Endless Online: Oblivion's Price: A LitRPG Adventure - Book 3
Page 3
Those final moments also burned into Val's eyes.
And Solena had been the one forced to cut them down.
And even after those childhood horrors, she had found the strength to go on, delighting at last in the conquest she had hoped to make of him. A wondrous perfect life with a man strong and deadly enough to protect her.
So that little girl inside her heart could at last be free. A wife and mother safe and protected from the nightmare she had no choice but to embrace, until her dark knight had come at last, finding her worthy of rescue.
In Val she had found her champion.
And he had killed her without a second thought.
And when Val gathered up the memory of Solena, kissing her sobbing brow as she faded away, he found his heart pierced more savagely than it had been with Tytus's final killing blow.
Then Val alone stood before a sea of shimmering darkness, sensing death just heartbeats away.
Wake up, Val! You have no time!
Elise's voice, her fist slamming down upon his desk. Jolting him out of his afternoon doze.
A panicked Val blinked, gazing at a young frizzy-haired Gregor who sneered and shook his head even as Sten sighed and tilted back his chair. "We're all dead anyway, Val, no matter what you do."
Val's eyes widened at that, even as a palm cracked against his desk.
Elise's panicked eyes boring into his own.
"You need to learn this Val, and learn it now! No time to pick another path. If you would live, if any of us would live, you need to do this now!"
Val gasped, confused, so much he wanted to ask, but he could somehow sense Sten's ship, engines damaged, crashing into Jordia, horrified at the thought that perhaps his friends were naught but ghosts even now.
"Val!"
His eyes snapped to the board, beholding a complex matrix of interconnected principles and meanings both inconceivably complex and exquisitely self-contained. "The Personal Resonance Mastery chart. Do you finally understand it?"
And feeling a curious rush of awe and wonder, he found that he did.
Level 6 Personal Resonance Mastery Achieved!
The desperate look in Elise's eyes turned to a relieved smile, and in a breathtaking display of speed and coordination, Elise drew a chart even more complex than the last. Her gaze implored Val to study it as if his life depended upon it.
Maybe it did.
The interconnected meshwork of symbols, variables, proofs, and constants roared through his mind. Far too much to take in at once, yet somehow, as if hundreds of hours of study could be compressed into mere seconds as the insights and understandings of countless people poured into his own, the hideously complex chart revealed itself to be nothing more than the most exquisite of keys to a puzzle of meaning Val at last understood. Sensing the ebb and flow of his own internal magics, and how best to channel them more precisely than he ever had before in his life.
Level 7 Personal Resonance Mastery Achieved!
Never had he felt as sharp and hyper-aware as he did at that moment.
Yet this remarkable achievement earned Val nothing more than a desperate nod as Elise presented yet another chart, dazzlingly complex, the chart before the equivalent of a single variable in the heart of a tremendous whole. And when at last he understood that indescribably elegant framework of reference and understanding, the rush of awe he felt was indescribable.
Level 8 Personal Resonance Mastery Achieved!
And when panicked eyes showed the tiniest glimmer of hope, that was all he needed to accept the herculean task now before him, the entire back of the classroom now displaying a chart of such complexity Val wanted to sob as he faced the most herculean of mazes, and he just a tiny speck expected to map it out in its entirety.
And in endless moments that might have been months that Val was lying comatose in a critical care unit, it all clicked together on the eve of his appointed death.
Level 9 Personal Resonance Mastery Achieved!
In exhausted euphoria Val roared his triumph, not giving a damn what challenges still awaited, knowing his feat had been profound beyond words to describe. He could all but taste it with each breath, feeling his potential to affect change, both Psion and Arcane, expanding just as did his understanding of the very secrets of nature itself, magic but one part of a great, glorious whole. A profound understanding that left him feeling on the cusp of something truly mystical. A power, a potency he could almost taste, almost grasp, affecting and infusing every cell of his being.
He then looked inward, awed anew at how the odd forces and fields flowing between realities somehow allowed for the quantization of all one could do or be. And how reminiscent it was of the games he had loved so well before his life had taken such dark turns, or perhaps it was simply that those beloved games hinted at deeper truths still. Either way, he felt a momentary flash of amazement at how far he had come, for all that it had been at terrible cost.
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Valor Hunter - Level 14
Primary Attributes
Strength 13
Vitality 13
Finesse 13
Quickness 17
Perception 18
Scholarship 13
Willpower 17
Charisma 13
Luck ?? +2
Health 10xVit+Str+IC= 148
Survival (Health+(10xLevel)+Luck) = 288+?
Stamina 10xVit+Str+IC= 153
Mana 343 (337Accessible: 251 kg Elementium Stored)
Psion 343 (337 Accessible: 200.9 L Silbion Stored)
Insight 17
Base Appearance 10. +1 (13 charisma) +1 (athletic) = +2 to reaction rolls. (+5 when you let your potency show.)
Dark Points 3 (+3 to reaction rolls and influence when you let your intensity shine. -1 if you try to hide the darkness in your soul. +30% potency increase when you embrace your wrath!)
Reputation
Champion of the Dwarves: +6 reaction from all surviving dwarves in Jordia’s northern hemisphere.
Skills of Significance
Shadowmind Rank 5 (Adept) / Psi-Sense (Shadowmind Dependent) Rank 4 / Psionic Perception Rank 3 / Arcane Perception Rank 3 (can sense hostile aftertaste of malicious poisoning) / Arcane Artificer Rank 2 / Psion Artificer Rank 2 / Cypher Rank 2 / Meditation Rank 3 / Rift Mastery Rank 2 / Psionic Oathbinding Rank 1 / Stealth Rank 4 / Magesight Rank 1 / Mageward Rank 1 / Basic Literacy Achieved! (Limited to texts of Arcane or Psionic nature) / Deception Rank 2 / Inquisition Rank 2 / Intimidation Rank 3
Small Arms Rank 3 / Demolitions Rank 2 / Laser Carbine Rank 3 + Feat: Adept Use crouched, w/shield, odd positions no added penalty) / Grappling Rank 3/ Sword and Shield Rank 4 / Longsword Rank 4 / Psiblade Rank 4
Intense Conditioning - must spend 1 hour exercising every 4 days or 1 hour sparring every 3 days to maintain exercise gains: +1 STR / +10 stamina / +5 Health.
Greater Skills Learned
Greater Alchemy Rank 3 (Specialization: Elemental Infusions)
Meta-Magic Feats: Stabilization Rank 2 / Spellboost Rank 1 (150% for triple cost) / Psiboost Rank 1 (125% for double cost)
Personal Resonance Mastery Rank 9
Greater Oathbinding Rank 1
True Artificer Rank 2
Potion Formulas Learned
Basic Restoration (Jordia)
Jordian Magical Arts Learned
Creation - Rank 2
Destruction - Rank 1
Manipulation - Rank 2
Transformation - Rank 1
Fire - Rank 2
Water - Rank 1
Earth - Rank 2
Herbam - Rank 1
Jordian Spells Learned
Firestream Level 20 C/F - Cost 5 Mana
Explosive Retribution Level 30 C/F Must save against Oblivion when casting. - Cost 35 mana.
Condensation Collection. Level 5 M/W - Cost 0 mana.
Stoneflow. Level 1 M/E - Cost 0 mana.
Dwarven Ca
talyzation Level 20 C+M+T/E - Cost 20 mana.
Automative Folly Level 20 D+M+T/E - Cost 20 mana.
Plentiful Bounty (Greater Ritual) Level 40 C+M+T / E+H - Cost 150 mana. (20%+ Critical failure risk: This spell is far beyond your abilities!)
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Val coughed, focusing on the classroom once more.
And then Elise, exhausted, dehydrated, looking on the verge of collapse, drew with trembling hands a chart so hideously complex it was on par with the 3-D matrices the dwarves used to store their own bodies of knowledge.
An order of complexity that felt a magnitude beyond what Val had forced himself to endure up til now.
Val turned around, somehow hoping Halvar could help, tell Elise to back down with her training, as he had offered to do once or twice as a fellow brother in arms what now seemed a lifetime ago.
But Halvar was no longer there.
The classroom was empty.
And that's when he felt the horrible pressure around his neck.
Val! Wake up! You have to wake up now!
2
A hideous cacophony of beeping drilled into his ears, fire alarms blaring in the background.
But it was nothing compared to the awful throbbing roar in his temples as he got his first good look at the flinty gray eyes of a killer, strangling Val even as he wavered between awareness and final blackness.
Fight, soldier! Fight now!
Val roared at himself as weak, wobbly legs fought for leverage, twisting for all he was worth.
A hard-lined face widened into a rictus of a grin showing yellowed teeth smelling of coffee, nicotine, and worse, his thick fingers squeezing ever harder, strands of oily hair falling free of a comb-over as he redoubled his efforts to murder Val.
"Shoulda stayed under a little bit longer, kid. Potassium Sorbate was already in your blood, but you just had to twist and tear out the line, you little shit."
Val hissed and wheezed as the man abruptly let go with one hand, smashing Val's nose as hard as he could.
The shock of pain tore through the hideous fog enveloping Val.
"You think you can fight me? You think you're going to win this, you little fucking shit? Hell no. I'm winning. I'm winning!"
Val fought desperately against his enemy's leather-gloved grip, tucking his chin in to make it that much harder to strangle him. But his position was horrid and if he didn't do something soon, he was dead.
The killer chuckled as Val's right hand fell away. "That's right, kid. Time to go to sleep, and me to get paid."
Grey eyes widened as the man gasped in shock, nose slammed by a palm strike too weak to break it.
Val saw the killer's snarl, knew the man was going to beat him like a savage, it being projected with hot furious eyes and suddenly raised fists.
Eyes bulging out, the thug stumbled back and wheezed as Val lashed out with a desperate spear hand to the man's throat the instant before he lowered his head once more.
Left hand throbbing, a panicked and disoriented Val paid it no mind as he still felt the killer's grip, feeling at last the cord of leather strangling him even now. His vision began tunneling, a curious roaring in his ears as he began to collapse.
Fight, damn you, fight!
Sheer panic kept him awake as trembling fingers struggled to unknot the corded leather, forcing himself to icy calm as death came for him at last, his desperate fingers finally loosening the twist. Unwind. Unwind. Off.
An indescribably sweet breath of sweet, sweet air and Val wanted to sob with relief even as the ugly man who had come so close to killing him lurched up himself with a snarl, the room awash in flashing red light.
"You little shit!" his would-be killer cursed, barely audible as the alarms blared on, Val desperately rolling out of the wheeled bed and onto the floor, feeling a painful jerk as tubing was ripped out of his arm.
"I'm going to kill you for that!"
And as the thug reached into his sports jacket pocket, time seemed to slow into final furious seconds, Val shifting his balance and launching himself forward, ramming his bed ahead of him like a linebacker would a blocking dummy, slamming it into his foe so hard the man wheezed and cried out, crumpling to the ground.
Cold fury met confused disbelief, the dreams of a boy vanishing instantly into the raging storm of a killer allowed no rest, no quarter, attacked when he was most vulnerable, who could answer with nothing less than sheer primal rage.
The sounds of their struggle were drowned out by the still blaring alarm. The room was lit only by the flashing red lights from the hallway, but Val could see his curled foe well enough, snarling as he kicked and pounded and stomped and felt the darkest of thrills as ribs collapsed under his furious assault, gazing into the eyes of a foe who knew he was mastered before slamming his heel down and breaking the would-be assassin's neck with a final furious crack.
Deep, shuddering breaths as Val strove for control, his wild frenzy quickly turning into the hyper-alertness of someone being stalked. His disorientation aside, he knew he was in someone's crosshairs.
Why he was in a hospital, he neither knew nor cared. He had to get out, and fast. There was a dead body in his room and self-defense or no, he had struck back with a madman's fury. Civilians who had never known the desperate terror of fighting for their lives would never understand the rage that had compelled him, would only think that his very savagery somehow made him guilty, no matter that this monster had clearly entered his room with a killer's tools in hand, doing all he could to assassinate Val.
Val frowned as he caught sight of the discarded syringe, mostly full. He still had no idea what had caused him to jerk and pull away, forcing his would-be killer to resort to more brutal methods. Val gazed down at his throbbing arm, looking at the blood trickling from his mangled port, hissing only once as he carefully took out the bloody tube still in his forearm, eyes spotting tape and gauze readily enough, sparing only a handful of seconds to bandage the thankfully minor wound. He noted no other injuries save throbbing fingers and heel, and was relieved to find himself able to walk and flex his fingers without hindrance.
But the last thing he could afford was to stand around in a daze with a body two feet from him. It didn't look good no matter how one spun it, and if he stuck around he'd end up in a holding cell or back in a hospital bed, only now cuffed in place. A perfect sucker for his enemy to target a second time while a corrupt judicial system might or might not give him a fair day in court.
Val was on someone's kill list, and he needed to find out who before he wound up as dead as the battered corpse by his feet.
A deep, focusing breath. Within seconds Val had stripped his would-be assassin of items, eyes widening at the stack of hundreds the man had been carrying, his burner phone unsecured and showing three unlisted numbers. The man's wallet had a well-forged license made out to a Kent Smith with matching discount cards and one charge card.
He had been a professional, and clever enough to set off the fire alarms before turning off all the monitoring equipment, only then trying to inject his victim with a compound that Val suspected could be used as an almost untraceable means of killing, resorting to strangulation only when all else failed. The man had been no martial artist, but even an improvised garrote could be damn effective. If he had been facing anyone else besides Val...
He took a deep breath, suppressing post-combat shakes he knew wanted to come, but there was no time. He had to focus and act. Fortunately, high-end burner phones could take a half decent pic as well as download simpler apps, and Val made sure to snap the license, face, hands, leather strap, and other incriminating evidence before checking for internet coverage and uploading the pics to one of the numerous dummy accounts he had in cyberspace for just such situations as what someone in his former line of work could expect.
Val then forced himself to do what he had been avoiding, changing into his would-be killer's clothes. Fortunately, the man
had been true to stereotype, his attire a uniform charcoal hue. Not so dark as to make a statement, but dark and bland enough to just fade into the background. A few seconds of cleaning and the sports jacket looked serviceable enough. One could hardly see the flecks of blood he hadn't quite been able to get out, and Val knew what to look for. Most would not. Black socks hid at first glance that the pants were too short, the jacket covering how much he had to cinch the belt. The shoes were the worst, but a couple slits from the knife Val found in a pants pocket allowed for surprising comfort, and hardly a tell. If nothing else, dressing completely in black was working to Val's advantage.
And it was only when he was slipping on the slacks that Val realized he had felt not a lick of pain in his legs the whole time.
Of the hideous burns that had melted skin and muscle like plastic, there was no trace.
And the face gazing back from the mirror as Val took a quick glance, making sure he could fit his role, chilled him to the quick.
It was him, but not him.
Flawless, free of all blemishes, and utterly symmetrical. Dark blue eyes gazed back at him, hair rich and full as he remembered. There was no trace of the ugly scar he had received as a parting gift from the engagement that had almost killed him. And the face looking back at him looked far too young, and as cold and hard as the most ruthless commander. Val swallowed and looked away, oddly disturbed by features both far more innocent, and deadly, than those he remembered.
"Bloody hell," he whispered, refusing to spend a moment longer on the puzzle. Did someone give him plastic surgery? Was he trying to escape something? He swallowed, wondering if memory loss had been an unwanted side effect of whatever had happened to him.
"Regeneration therapy? Is there even such a thing?" He turned away from the mirror, knowing he couldn't afford to waste any more time.
The would-be killer gazed back at him with eyes already lost to death's rapture. His hands were calloused, but his wiry arms were covered in track marks and sores. Val grimaced, a dozen possible scenarios playing out in his head, knowing exactly what he had to do. Anything else, and he would be a wanted man.