Auction of Souls: Fantasy GameLit RPG Series (Pixel Dust Book 3)

by David Petrie

  Larkin brought his shears up to block, feeling the impact of the blow all the way down his arm as she shoved him back. The tattered banner of House Winter Moon hung from her shoulder.

  “Nice to meet you, Kashka.” Larkin’s arm shook under the weight of the woman’s sword. He had been keeping up to date on the who’s who of Noctem’s elites, so how could he miss the First Knight of the Winter Moon? Like really, how could he miss her? She was huge, not to mention probably the second highest level Rage class after him.

  “I think we have some mutual friends over in Lockheart.” Larkin’s voce wavered under the strain of holding her back.

  Kashka blew a hot breath out her nose. “You can’t talk your way out of fights like they can, little man.”

  “Nonsense, I was just being polite.”

  A lock of Larkin’s light blue hair fell into his face. Apparently, the ribbon he’d tied it back with had come loose and fallen off. It was always doing that in combat. Sure, the red ribbon looked fantastic against the color of his hair, but it wasn’t always the most practical.

  I hope I can find it later when the dust settles.

  Several gunshots barked from somewhere behind him, tearing his attention away from his lost ribbon and back to the fact that he was fighting for his life.

  “You know, we may want to focus on the Boars who are attacking the auction rather than fighting each other.” Larkin blew the lock of hair out of his face. “Just a suggestion.”

  “You are the highest level Rage I’ve met.” Kashka gave him a savage smile. “I prefer this.”

  “Ah, so the Winter Moons are a chaotic neutral sort of house, then?” Larkin tilted his head to one side.

  She answered by pressing down harder on the pair of crafting shears holding back her claymore. Larkin’s leg threatened to buckle as he struggled to keep her from crushing him, even with his level being higher. The faunus must have been huge in the real world to have such physical strength.

  It was actually quite impressive.

  “Have you ever considered trading in that awful set of leathers for equipment more fitting of a First Knight?” Larkin gestured at the armor she wore, implying that the distressed leather didn’t present the best impression. “I could help with that if you wanted. You’re an interesting canvas and I could really design something to bring out the qualities of your character that make you stand out.”

  “You think I have finer qualities.” Kashka laughed, letting up the crushing pressure a little.

  “Absolutely, you could really shine with the right gear.” Larkin pushed his glasses up on his nose with his free hand. “Tell you what, you let me go back to defending this auction, and I’ll get to work on something special for you afterward.”

  Kasha’s face softened. Clearly she wasn’t someone that had been told she could shine before.

  Shame, Larkin thought. He wasn’t one to lie, and he certainly wasn’t one to offer his services to anyone that he found boring. He really could do a lot for someone so unique.

  “What about this duel? I would like to finish it.” She pressed down again.

  “That’s a good question.” Larkin was actually a little curious about who would win as well. “I’d be happy to meet you for some friendly PVP at a later date.”

  “I’d like that.” Kashka suddenly pulled her sword away and rested it on her shoulder as she held out her hand. “Give me your contact info.”

  “Ah, sure.” Larkin gripped her hand and shook it, allowing her access to his profile data. “I’ll get to work on some designs for you–”

  “Goodbye!” Kashka blurted out as if in a hurry, just before running in the opposite direction.

  “Well, okay then.” Larkin winced sympathetically as she plowed into one of Tusker’s Boars. “There’s something to be said for understanding your priorities.” The huge faunus proceeded to drop her claymore to the floor and pick up another player by their foot, transferring her damage bonus to her captive. Larkin smiled as she beat a pair of Boars to death with their comrade.

  “I suppose I should get my priorities in order as well.” Larkin turned to Tusker and began stalking toward him. “Can’t let anyone get in the way tonight.”

  As if sensing his intent, a Blade class rushed to meet him along with a Venom mage and a handful of Leafs. They all wore the banner of the Boar. The mage threw up his hand, activating a spell while the archers reached for their quivers. Larkin smirked as a thick plume of green smoke swirled around him.

  “Really, poison? You’ll have to do better than that.” The buttons on his vest carried a heavy resistance to most status effects.

  The Venom’s eyes widened, he must have put a lot into the spell. Throwing out his other hand, he snapped open a second caster and began throwing spell after spell into his quick-cast queue.

  Had to taunt him, didn’t you? Larkin regretted his words as the mage hit him with several layers of debuffs, wearing his resistance down. The Leaf class players surrounding him let loose, sending a dozen arrows into his body. Spikes of virtual pain spread across his skin before being dulled back down. Damn! His cape could dampen their attacks, but only for so long.

  “Heads up!” shouted a voice from behind, followed by a loud pop.

  Larkin dropped to one knee just as a grappling line flew through the space where he’d been. It struck the mage in the arm, and yanked him forward just as someone planted a foot on Larkin’s back.

  Ginger soared over him, using his body as a spring board and slamming her heel into the mage. The surprised Venom fell to the floor with his mouth wide open. She took the opportunity to shove a small bomb into his gaping jaw, its wick sparking.

  The Lady of House Lockheart rolled off of the unfortunate player, a burst of crimson light exploding from his face. She sat back up as the group of Leafs took aim at her.

  “Try not to lose your head!” Max shouted from across the room.

  “That’s what I should have said.” Ginger slapped a hand to her forehead just before scampering out of the way of a few arrows.

  “Thank you for the assistance.” Larkin gave her a casual salute.

  “We did ask you to back us up. Can’t have you getting killed.” She fired a grappling line into the ceiling and shot up to one of the chandeliers above. “You might want to make use of whatever you have hiding under your cape.”

  Just then, a player behind Larkin fell to a group of Blades nearby. It was one of House Saint’s higher ups, Archmage from the look of his robes. The Blades swarmed, stabbing the helpless player mercilessly.

  “I suppose it’s time I tested some of my experiments. Besides, if these Boars are going to behave like monsters, then so should I.” Larkin reached his hand into his item bag just as the Leaf class players surrounding him let off another volley.

  Arrows streaked through the air only to be caught up in the fabric of Larkin’s cape as he ripped it from his shoulders with a flourish. A lantern covered in a shroud of black fabric hung at his side.

  He let the cape drift to the floor before lifting his crafting shears over his head and opening them as if ready to cut the heavens. Twisting the handles in a practiced motion, he released the pin at the tool’s center. The shears split apart with a metallic snap, becoming a pair of twin daggers. Larkin threw his arms out wide as if inviting the Boars to attack.

  An arrow struck him in the thigh, cleaving another fifteen percent off his health and bringing him down to less than half. He smirked and reached into his item bag for his latest experiment, a red and black mask bearing two rows of bone white teeth. Positioning the item over his face, Larkin covered his nose and mouth with a demon’s grinning visage. Then, pulling a second item from his pouch, he slid a metal cylinder filled with pixie dust between the mask’s jaws and pressed a button on the side.

  A puff of shimmering dust escaped as he took a deep breath to inhale the restorative particles he’d collected from Kira’s echo. Power flooded his lungs, tingling as if every cell in his chest had begun
to vibrate. The sensation faded as he checked his health.

  Back to full.

  Four breaths left, Larkin reminded himself of how much dust remained in the cylinder. He’d had a theory that inhaling the stuff increased its potency, making each use the equivalent of one high-level heal spell. The mask served as Larkin’s personal Breath mage, as long as he didn’t run out of dust cylinders.

  He rushed forward, spinning his twin daggers around his fingers for added flair before crossing them in front of his face in defense. Arrows stabbed into his wrists and legs. Larkin ignored them and lunged for the first of the Leafs. His shears bit and sliced into the players as he tore through them like a tornado of razors. At close range, the archers were as good as dead.

  The Boars’ First Knight pushed toward him to protect his comrades, shoving Larkin back with his shield barrier. The Boars’ Archmage, a Cauldron, joined the fray and dropped a velvet pouch full of ingredients into the glowing circle above his caster.

  That could be a problem.

  Larkin drew in another deep breath of Echo’s dust, getting a rather horrified look from Ginger who was swinging from one chandelier to another above him. For a moment, he questioned if he had taken his experiment too far.

  Another of the auction’s guards fell from the balcony, followed by a pair of Coins, dropping into the fight behind him. The Boars’ Archmage smiled. Whatever spell he was brewing was bad.

  Larkin sighed.

  Well, if I’ve gone too far already, why stop now?

  He slapped his shears back together and reached for the shrouded lantern at his side. Thrusting the object out toward the Boars’ Archmage, Larkin tore off the fabric that kept its contents hidden.

  “You may want to start running.” Larkin narrowed his eyes as his mask twisted his words into a menacing threat.

  The Boars, however, did not run. Instead, puzzled looks surrounded him, all staring at the small doll sitting peacefully inside the lantern. Its silver hair and white dress gave it an air of innocence.

  Larkin groaned as he tapped on the glass with the tip of his shears.

  The doll, a miniature version of Kira, snapped to life, its sparkling eyes locking on the Boars’ Archmage. Its face instantly contorted into a mad snarl.

  “I really do suggest running.” Larkin twirled his shears casually as a rumbling came from the back of the theater. It was a deep and forbidding sound, like a stampede in the distance.

  The color slowly drained from each of the Boars’ faces as they turned toward the noise, toward the trunks that Larkin had brought with him. He’d said they were full of items to trade, he just didn’t mention that he’d intended on trading in lives.

  The trunks rattled and shook as Larkin began to laugh.

  They really should have run.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What have I unleashed?” Max stood with his pistols hanging limp at his sides as all of Larkin’s trunks burst open. A familiar torrent of nightmare fuel erupted into the theater, hundreds of dolls pouring into one porcelain beast.

  Max gawked as the crafting-obsessed Rage laughed maniacally while vapors of pixie dust leaked from the jaws of his demonic mask. The Boars’ Knight and Archmage turned to run as the conglomerate of dolls simply consumed a few of their lower level housemates. A chorus of tiny voices sang the word ‘fashion,’ sounding like the strings of a thousand violins being plucked out of order as the writhing beast crashed through the theater’s furniture. An unlucky Fury screamed, the dolls latching onto their foot. They tried to claw their way free, only to be swallowed whole, their hand the last thing to disappear into the terrifying mass.

  Max shuddered, wondering if hiring Larkin as backup was a good idea after all.

  “If I ever have kids, I am so not buying them dolls.” Farn let out an awkward laugh just before ripping the life from a random Blade class that got too close to her Death Grip.

  “Where’s Echo?” Max shouted over the sound of screams and laughter emanating from Larkin’s rampage.

  “I lost track of her.” Farn spun to meet one of Tusker’s men, a sword coming down at her. She caught his weapon with her clawed gauntlet. “I sent her over to the buffet table back during the auction, haven’t seen her since.”

  Max put three rounds into the man she fought with. “Well, Echo can’t be hurt so I guess we’ll just have to find her later and hope she doesn’t get into trouble.”

  The bark of a familiar three-round burst drew his attention to the other end of the theater where Nix took out a pair of players with her M9. He suppressed the urge to shoot her. Instead he fired on a Leaf taking aim at her from one of the box seats above. He couldn’t let her die, not when he had finally found the evil woman. Keeping her breathing was the only option, so as much as it hurt him, he raised his house ring and gave an order.

  “Everyone, listen up. Whatever happens here with Tusker and his Boars, we can’t let Nix die. Protect her. Even if it cost your lives.” He glanced to Farn as if asking if he was making the right choice.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.” A pained expression covered the Shield’s face as she turned toward Nix and drew her sword, clearly ready to protect their enemy at all costs.

  A pang of guilt ate away at Max’s chest for allowing Farn to take on such a burden. Fortunately, he didn’t get much time to think about it as a saber trailing purple mist streaked past his head. Max ducked just in time, using his pistols to block another three attacks as Amelia, the Lady of House Winter Moon, tried to end him.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Enjoying the situation.” The ferocious reynard woman winked at him while simultaneously attempting to skin him alive.

  Her saber tore through the air as he ducked again, getting a whiff of the mist that wafted from her weapon. It smelled like rotting fruit, reminding him that it would only take a scratch to kill him.

  “Damn it, Amelia. We’re allies, remember? We stole all that hard together back in Reliqua.”

  “How could I forget? I got rich.”

  “Then why are you attacking me?” He caught her sword with the trigger guards of his guns.

  “Mostly for fun.” She shrugged as if it should have been obvious. “And we were only allies back during the pyramid job, so that partnership is null and void now.”

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are!” She sliced a lock of hair off Max’s head as he dodged. “But I kill most of my friends a couple times a week. I killed Kashka yesterday.”

  Max grimaced; there was no negotiating with her. He’d learned that much about Amelia back when they’d fought in Tartarus six months ago. She had destroyed half a city before listening to reason, and besides, she didn’t know what they were really up against. How could he expect her to get serious when she thought that Noctem was nothing but a game? Other than Larkin, he hadn’t told anyone about Kira’s fate or his war with Nix. No, he couldn’t expect Amelia to listen.

  “Fine!” Max tightened his grip on his guns. “I didn’t want to have to kill you, but you leave me no–”

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, Larkin’s porcelain beast plowed into the woman with a battle cry of, “Fashion!”

  Max fell back on his rear in surprise.

  “Need some help?” The fashionable Rage sheathed his shears and offered a hand to Max.

  “Ah, thanks.” He tried not to look at the doll wearing Kira’s face trapped in the lantern hanging from Larkin’s other hand.

  Amelia pushed off the stage and cut a swath through the porcelain beast, killing a dozen dolls.

  “Looks like my little fiends bit off more than they could chew.” Larkin winced as Amelia severed another ten dolls from his pet monstrosity. “We’ll catch up later.” He flipped his shears out of their sheath and charged into the mess he’d created.

  “This is fine, everything’s fine,” Max whispered to himself just as a voice came from behind him.

  “Hey, Max!”

  He immediately spun and p
istol whipped the source on reflex.

  “Wha fa phak?” shrieked a woman dressed in the same uniform as the auction’s support staff. It took Max a moment to recognize her as Luka, also known as Agent Delgado, one of the Feds that took part in the pyramid job.

  “Oh shit! Sorry!” He dropped his guns to his sides as if he hadn’t just cracked her in the nose.

  “God damn, Max, look before you maim.” The F.B.I. agent in disguise pulled her hands away from her face, leaving a crimson glow to fade from the bridge of her nose.

  “Well maybe don’t sneak up on people during an all-out brawl.” Max fired a few rounds into one of Tusker’s men. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “We thought Nix might show up, so I infiltrated the auction staff in case we were right. If there’s even a chance that Nix still has access to whatever’s left of Kira, then she’s far too dangerous to let run free.”

  “Go capture her then.” Max gestured toward Nix with the muzzle of one of his pistols. “I’ll wait here.”

  Luka rolled her eyes. “If we knew how to do that, we would have done so already. It’s somehow more frustrating to find her here when we can’t out there in the real.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Is Alastair having any luck on his end?” She snapped open a caster and tossed a heal spell Max’s way, reminding him that she was a Breath mage. “I get the feeling that he would tell you before saying anything to us.”

  “He’s working on it. Last I heard, he was sure she was in the U.S. That was the best he could come up with so far.” Max held out his pistols in an exaggerated shrug.

  “Where is…” Luka spun around, clearly searching for the head of Checkpoint Systems. “There he is. Cover me so I can get to him.” She pointed toward the back of the theater where Alastair seemed to be arguing with J3ff.

  “Ah, okay.” Max took up a position next to her, not sure why he was following her orders. Then he paused as Dartmouth ran past them, flailing his arms in the air, leaving his Archmage and Knight to be murdered by Tusker.