by Edwin McRae
“Please, we’ll give you what you want,” offered Mark as he walked slowly towards them. “Just let her go.”
“I want you to stay where you are, asshole. And I want you to keep that fucking fire-breathing face of yours well and truly shut.”
He stopped in his tracks and raised his hands, his mind racing all the while. He silently cursed “Terrifying Manifestation” for being too fucking long to say, and not for the first time wondered if he could rewrite it. The reiver woman was out of range of Ignited Exhalation, her grip on the dagger would be too strong for Mind over Matter, and neither Arcane Edge nor Avalar’s Leech would do him much good either. Perhaps one of his new spells? All he needed was a little time.
“I promise you, no flames, no fancy stuff. Just leave Dayna and the helmet and you can-”
The reiver woman didn’t look away, didn’t even blink as as she drove her dagger up under Dayna’s chin, digging through skin and sinew, the long blade puncturing through the roof of the ranger’s mouth and skewering the grey matter beyond. The lustre in Dayna’s eyes was gone before she hit the ground, and behind her, the reiver mounted the dead ranger’s horse in one smooth motion, flicked the reins, and was off in a spray of leaf litter and dirt.
Vari and Braemar rushed towards Dayna’s limp form. Mark did the only think he could think of, the only thing that might salvage some small hope from this disaster.
“Mind over Matter!” he shouted, his eyes fixed upon the helmet that flapped against the rump of Dayna’s fast-escaping horse. Answering his summons, the helm unhooked itself from the saddle and tumbled into the leaf litter on the forest floor.
The sergeant looked over her shoulder, first at the falling helmet, and then at Mark. Her glare of pure, burning hatred was the last thing he saw of her before she disappeared into the trees. As the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, he turned to where Dayna had fallen, and found Vari looking at him, her eyes glistening, her cheeks streaked with tears.
38
Braemar closed the earth over Dayna’s still form as Calder finished the last verse of his Garland funeral chant. He stumbled over some of the words, but it didn’t matter, not to Mark, not to Vari, and not to the villagers who had gathered to honor this noble ranger who had given her life to protect theirs.
Tears trickled down his cheeks as Mark drove Dayna’s sword into the ground at the head of her grave. She had earned that sword and the inscription, now serving as an epitaph instead of a signature of defiance. He traced his fingers across her name and then looked with reddened eyes over the mounds of earth. Dayna, Denniston, the rangers; none had more than a single life to give and yet they’d offered it up to defend Citadel.
The rational part of his brain reminded him that these were just NPCs. AIs programmed by game designers to populate this virtual world, this glorified playground. And though he could hear that voice loud and clear, could understand its reasoning, it offered him not an iota of comfort. Whether made of cells, code or biblical clay, they had been people, as real and alive as any he’d ever met. And now they were dead.
“I think I know that look,” said Vari softly. She took his hand in hers. “And I know what Dayna would have said.”
“Stop being an idiot? It’s not my fault?”
“No.”
“No?”
“She would’ve called you a fucking sap and told you to wipe those tears off your face before she slaps them off.”
“Yes, she would’ve.” He sniffed and wiped his cheeks dry with the back of his hand. “And she would’ve hated that I’m going to miss her.”
“Like an arrow in the neck?”
“Yup.”
“She’d like that.”
It was long after Braemar had raised his last toast to the fallen, long after Calder and the other villagers had settled in for the night, long after he’d kissed Vari goodnight and promised to come to bed soon, that he found himself standing before the forge, the misshapen helm dangling from his fingertips.
He could feel the power of the thing, tingling up through his fingers, itching within his palm.
The Helm of Supremacy.
This ancient artefact enables the wearer to control sentient beings, facilitating complete power over thought and behavior. The base number of minions is limited at any one time to the...
He waved the notification away. He didn’t want to know. Serik had used this corrupted relic to slaughter and enslave, to murder and destroy. Yes, he could have Citadel fix it up. Yes, he could raise up an army of minions from the Barrens, perhaps the reiver lands too, and use that army to defend Garland. But then he’d be no better than Serik, using people like units in some real-time strategy game.
People. NPCs. Before meeting Vari, before watching Dayna die, Mark thought he could tell the difference. Players and AI. Right now, he didn’t give a shit about the definitions. There were embers of fury in his belly, burning as hot as those within the forge before him. Dayna was dead and she wasn’t coming back. Code or corpse, program or person, he didn’t care. He missed the stubborn, caustic ranger just as surely as he knew he was falling in love with Vari.
A revenant of sound echoed through his mind. A bleep, bleep, bleep of a heart monitor. Out there, in the “real world”, he was plugged into a life support system, a human pincushion pumped full of saline, liquified nutrients and pharmaceuticals. He didn’t know how he got there, and in this moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was alive out there, and that meant he was alive in here. In fact, he was more alive in here than he could remember being in a very long time.
He hefted the Helm of Supremacy and tossed it into the forge’s melting pot.
“Would you like to hear some good news, Mark?”
“Yes, Sid, I could use some good news right now.”
“I believe I can extract the helm’s magical essence. It is, after all, quite a powerful item.”
“I won’t use it to control anyone.”
“You wouldn’t be the man I know if you did.”
“Sorry, Sid, but I had to bury a friend today, so I’m not really in the mood for riddles.”
“No, Mark, it is I who should be sorry. It’s been a long time since-”
“It’s okay, Sid. Just tell me about the essence.”
“If melted down with the right incantations, ones that I happen to know, the helm’s metals and magics can be reforged.”
“Into what?”
“A certain sword we’ve been attempting to make.”
Despite his exhaustion, both emotional and physical, Mark felt a faint surge of excitement.
“The Volcanic Bastard Sword?”
“That’s the one. Thanks to Calder’s mine, we managed to gather all of the appropriate ingredients, bar one.”
“Mage-forged metal?”
“Precisely.”
“Well, there are a few people I’d like to avenge.”
“Not to mention a peace-loving nation you’re duty-bound to protect.”
“There’s the Mountains of Corruption quest to consider too.”
“Oh? I can’t say I’m aware of that one.”
“Rifts opening. Freakish monsters pouring out. The source is in the Barrens somewhere.”
“And here I thought we had our hands full with the reivers.”
“Never a dull moment around this place.”
“Would you have it any other way?”
Mark looked back over his ‘real’ life. It didn’t take very long. Forklifts, forms, debts, divorce, flatmates, and fast food. Once the doctors fixed him up, once he snapped out of whatever coma or catatonia he was in, those were the seven dwarves that would meet him at the door to his old fairytale existence.
“No, Sid. I can’t say that I would.”
End of Book One
Congratulations! You have completed the "Weighty Tome" quest.
With your keen brain you have slain the Legendary Boss that is Book One.
Feel fully entitled to call yourself an avi
d reiver...reader, I mean.
Your XP Reward = 500 XP
Congratulations! You have reached Level 6 in the Lorekeeper class.
You have gained +6 to Mind and +6 to Spirit.
If you enjoyed Warlock: Reign of Blood, perhaps you’d like to take on the “Signed in Blood” quest. Simply tap on the link below and you will be teleported to my mailing list signup.
This quest comes with a loot drop as its reward.
Were you wondering about Dayna’s mysterious trip into the Barrens in search of Marton Wayfarer? Having completed the “Signed in Blood” quest, you will receive Bloody Minded, a FREE short story about Dayna’s experiences during that nightmarish expedition and why she was the only ranger to return with Wayfarer’s diary.
Get My Story
Also, reviews are the Notifications that keep us LitRPG writers questing and leveling up. If you could please consider leaving a review on your preferred platform (Goodreads, Amazon, Kobo… you name it!) that would be truly awesome.
Thank you again, Lorekeeper! If you want to check out my other stories, learn a bit more about about me, or hear my thoughts about LitRPG, RPG video games and VR, you’re most welcome to stop by www.edmcrae.com.
Cheers!
Edwin McRae
Character Sheet: Mark
Class: Warlock - Level 7
Progress to Level 8 = 1152/1700
Body: 18
Mind: 12
Spirit: 14
HP: 126
EP: 98
Skills
Swordplay (Tier 3)
Horse Riding (Tier 2)
Spells
Terrifying Manifestation (Tier 3)
Second Skin (Tier 2)
Arcane Edge (Tier 2)
Ethereal Flesh (Tier 3)
Avalar’s Leech (Tier 2)
Mind of Matter (Tier 1)
Ivara’s Ignited Exhalation (Tier 1)
Doppelganger (Tier 1)
Gear
Garridar’s Ironhide
35% reduction to damage caused by hits to the torso.
20% reduction to damage to arms.
25% chance to prevent total damage.
10% Fire Resistance.
10% Cold Resistance.
“One must grow a thick skin to survive this harsh world.” - Garridar Stoneye
Garridar’s Punishment
20% bonus to base sword damage.
10% chance of inducing internal hemorrhaging in an organic enemy.
“Without punishment, the wrong will never care to be right.” - Garridar Stoneye
Character Sheet: Vari of Karajan
Class: Figurist - Level 6
Progress to Level 7 = 774/1000
Body: 11
Mind: 15
Spirit: 18
HP: 66
EP: 108
Skills
Alchemy (Tier 2)
Physik Perception (Tier 3)
Horse Riding (Tier 2)
Spells
Mend Flesh (Tier 4)
Rend Flesh (Tier 4)
Puppeteer (Tier 2)
Sculpt Bone (Tier 2)
Gear
Kyra’s Potion of Healing
One 300ml dose restores up to 100 HP
“May the tears of mercy quench those callous flames.” - Kyra the Kind.
Kyra’s Potion of Recuperation
One 300ml dose restores up to 100 EP
“Your heart is as the harvest moon.” - Kyra the Kind.
About the Author
Edwin has been a screenwriter and narrative designer for over 12 years now. After four years of writing for television, he started with Grinding Gear Games in 2010. He became lead writer on the creative team that took their online ARPG, Path of Exile, from 80,000 players to 20 million players and a 100 million dollar buyout from Tencent. During the last eight years he's worked with numerous Indie game developers, helping them turn their ideas into stories that players can experience and enjoy.
Edwin has recently fallen in love with LitRPG, a genre that beautifully incorporates his twin passions of video games and science-fiction.
Copyright © 2018 Edwin McRae. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is fictionalized or coincidental.
For any inquiries about this book, please email: [email protected]
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editor: Rachel Rees
Cover art by Rusharil Hutangkabodee
Titling by sugarcube studios