Harbinger of destruction.., p.14
Harbinger of Destruction: A LitRPG Adventure, page 14
“They could mass the Hari military against me. Even if it was just all the guards in the city. If they hunted me as an outlaw, it could end with me in a cell no matter how hard I can fight. Even if I were willing to hurt my fellow guards.” He clenched a fist and brought it down hard on his leg. “Even though it wouldn’t be their fault.” Hirrus shook his head. “But if they aren’t doing that, it means it won’t work. The guards or army won’t see me as an enemy because I’m a guard myself. Or was. I don’t seem to have access to my guard skills any longer.”
“You’re actually an NPC, then?” Alric asked. “Straight-up just a bugged-out town guard?” He regarded Hirrus with a grin of nearly childlike wonder. “That’s fuckin’ rad as hell.”
Hirrus heaved himself up to his feet with a sigh. “I suppose that if you are staying, I owe you a proper explanation.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Alric said, but then he shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter though. I’m not gonna withhold my help if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I won’t ask you to stand with me if you don’t know what you’re standing for. And what you’re standing beside.”
“Behind,” Alric said. He held his hands up in the air defensively when Hirrus glared at him. “I want to make it very clear that I intend to stand behind you a very healthy distance. The last thing I want is for there to be any misunderstanding about my positioning vis-à-vis your mission of ass kicking.”
Hirrus heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. During all of his time as a guard, he had come to hate adventurers. They were a tiresome lot who only cared for themselves. Who used the goodwill of his town and then left when they were through. No adventurer ever settled down or helped repair any damage. They just took and took.
Alric was different. Still quite frustrating, but different.
“Come,” Hirrus said, gesturing towards the small table in the room. “Have a seat. I’ll explain everything I can.”
Dahlia settled herself back down into bed, keeping a hand on her pregnant belly as she made herself more comfortable. She did not try to stop them, and Hirrus wondered if those who controlled what she said could make her intervene at any moment.
It was a dangerous thought.
Alric joined Hirrus at the table like a stray dog looking for scraps. He seemed so eager.
Hirrus steepled his fingers as he tried to consider where to begin.
“As you may have assumed, Dahlia and I are not adventurers,” Hirrus said. “We don’t—or didn’t—have the ability to absorb and use Arcana. Furthermore, we are bound by our decision trees. They command our actions and our responses to our environment. The decision tree dictates our actions at all times, though we’re allowed a little leeway about specifics.”
“Yeah, uh, not to derail, but the devs got some shit about that. And by some, I mean a lot.”
Hirrus didn’t know what that meant, and he knew if he stopped to ask, it would waste time. “I am no longer bound by those rules,” Hirrus continued, “and I don’t fully understand why. The beast that killed my wife went after Dahlia right after. My decision tree told me that it was outside my vision and therefore beyond my ability to react to. It told me to just go back to what I was doing. I don’t know how, but I ignored it. I pushed through its orders in order to give my life to save Dahlia.”
“Give your life… Does that mean you died?”
Hirrus glanced at Dahlia. She looked away, as if she knew the answer.
“I did. But somehow, for some reason, I went through some sort of… I’m not sure what. It isn’t important. I came to outside town as if nothing had happened. Well, mostly as if nothing had happened. I was level twenty before I died. When I returned, I was level one, though my stats didn’t change much.”
“And you learned Arcana Absorption,” Alric said.
“I did.” Hirrus ran a fingernail across the polished wood grain of the table. “I don’t understand how or why, though that appears to be a running theme surrounding these events.”
“You learned what?” Dahlia said, sitting up suddenly. She winced, grabbing her belly and adjusting her positioning. “What did you say?”
Hirrus took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts. “I learned Arcana Absorption,” he said. “I don’t know how or why, but I have learned Arcana from the adventurers I’ve felled.”
“So you’re an adventurer now, then.” She looked at him curiously.
“Maybe. But others still see me as a… what they call an ‘en-pee-see.’ I don’t know. This is all… It’s not important.”
“NPC,” Alric said in a patient tone. “Three letters.”
Hirrus growled low in his chest. “Not important.”
Dahlia laughed, the short, derisive laugh of nobility. “Suddenly developing Arcana Absorption seems quite important.”
Alric nodded emphatically. “Also, coming back from the dead. I know that’s not uncommon for adventurers, but for an NPC, that’s really fucking weird.”
“It’s not as important as my goal,” Hirrus clarified. “Whatever happened to me has given me this opportunity to bring justice to Last of the Strong. I don’t need to understand why or how or what it means. I only need to do what needs to be done.”
“By Tuesday,” Alric said.
Something tugged at Hirrus from the back of his mind. Where his decision tree lay impotent and mostly dormant. “Why?” The word snaked from his mouth, drawn out in anger. “What happens on Tuesday?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” Alric said, his eyes wide. “Just… you know. Pattern recognition? I don’t know how to even begin to explain.” He waved both hands dismissively. “You know what? Forget it. Forget I said anything. I was just guessing. Never mind.”
“Hm.” Hirrus tried to read the obvious panic on Alric’s face, but discerned nothing of substance. “I don’t plan on it taking that long, at any rate. My revenge is not one that will be served cold. I’m not playing any games with them. I will find them, and I will kill them.”
“Timeline aside,” Alric said, “I’m not here to take notes and submit a bug report. I’m here to see some crazy shit.” He patted the plate armor on his chest. “And to get some fuckin’ sick-ass gear upgrades. I don’t care if you’re not a real person. Whatever I can do to help—”
Dahlia leaned forward, her curiosity plain on her face. “Not a real person? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, I mean…” Alric suddenly stammered, his momentum lost. “You’re NPCs, right? I mean, you don’t have… uh, meatspace bodies. You’re…” He paused, collecting himself. “I’m not sure how to put this into words without, you know, getting into it.”
Hirrus carefully pulled his axe off his hip and put it on the table. The heavy weapon made a loud sound as it hit the wood, even though he set it down with near-reverent gentleness.
The desired effect was achieved, however. Alric’s face started to turn red at the sight of the weapon.
“What I mean is,” Alric said, swallowing hard. “You exist only in this world. You don’t correspond to… um… a non-digital physical body? Except the server, I guess? I don’t know.”
“The more you say it, the more you calling me an NPC feels like putting my life beneath yours. The same sort of logic that allowed Last of the Strong to justify what they did.” He lifted his axe off the table slowly. “They said that Yenon was a nothing town and that nobody cared for it, even when I had already made it abundantly clear that I was from Yenon, and that I cared for it.”
“Yenon is well cared for,” Dahlia said suddenly. “With you looking out for it.”
Alric let out a hiccup of a nervous laugh.
“I don’t mean it that way,” he said. “Honest. You’ve made it abundantly clear that there’s more to you than just the, uh… decision tree, you called it? You have a will without it. A mind. Feelings. That, uh, makes you a real person. No matter what anyone says. Least of all me.” The man was rambling. “You shouldn’t care what I have to say. I’m nobody. I mean, I’ve only got a few hours of playtime, and I’ve been subbed for a month. I don’t know why you’d take anything I say seriously. Especially not something ridiculous. I clearly don’t know anything about—”
“Enough,” Hirrus said, returning his axe to his belt. “I understand that you feel remorse for your words. Or, at least, you’re frightened enough of me not to repeat them. Just know that while Last of the Strong are the subject of my ire for now, I’m a strong believer in adhering to the spirit of the law, not the letter. If you make yourself to be like them, you will share their fate.”
Alric swallowed and nodded.
“For now, though,” Hirrus said, “if you believe me a real person—and my cause just—we both need to work together to locate another trail towards Last of the Strong.” He looked over at Dahlia. “I think I might have one more straw to grasp at.”
23
RUN AWAY, LITTLE GIRL… RUN AWAY
After a bit more conversation, Alric went off to watch for would-be recruiters from Last of the Strong. It was an important task, but it didn’t feel like a plan that would work. He’d already tried following their recruiters. It led him to Alric, sure, and Juri as well. But that was it. Otherwise it would just be more of the same.
At least he’d be without the adventurer for a little while. With his new gear, Alric would be able to take care of himself if anything happened, and Hirrus would get a bit of a break from his incessant chatter.
In the meantime, he had an untapped resource to fill his own time.
Dahlia had been born and raised in Inoha. Born to nobility at that. He’d known that when she moved to Yenon with her husband, years before his death. But she didn’t talk about it. Ever. Hirrus decided he wouldn’t push her to contact the family that had thrown her aside when she’d married for love rather than status, but she still had knowledge of her own that he could benefit from.
Her decision tree didn’t seem inclined to stop her from helping, either.
Dahlia told him about a man named Barin Fleming. He was a merchant, but like the shop of curiosities where Alric was found, Barin’s shop didn’t exist to sell items of any sort. Instead, Barin was a rumormonger. His actual trade was in information.
According to Dahlia, if Barin couldn’t give him another lead to track down Last of the Strong, then there was no one in town who could.
That was enough for Hirrus. He set off to Barin’s shop with a handful of vague directions from Dahlia.
The Temple Village was just to the south of their location. Barin’s shop was on the southern edge of that district. It was starting to grow late, so Hirrus picked up the pace to catch the man before he headed home for the night. He sought out the markers from Dahlia’s directions with a practical eye, not stopping to gaze in wonder at the buildings around him.
From Dahlia’s description, it was hard to miss Barin locking up his shop.
The information business was treating the man very well. His fancy brocade vest looked more expensive than Hirrus’s entire wardrobe. Barin’s features were dark—dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark and short-trimmed beard—but obviously well kept to a degree that spoke of meticulous cultivation rather than a natural look.
Hirrus approached the man with purpose.
“Barin, we have business.”
The rumormonger turned with a dazzling smile, though it didn’t mask the confusion in his eyes. He didn’t recognize Hirrus, but even while locking his shop doors, he was a businessman.
“I’m afraid you’re too late for today,” Barin said, “though I’m sure we could speak about your needs and budget tomorrow.” It was a rehearsed speech, no doubt fed to him by his own decision tree a thousand times before.
Even as he was speaking, his confusion spread from his eyes across his face.
No doubt as he started to realize that Hirrus was a guard from another town.
Hirrus didn’t slow his approach. “My needs are simple enough to understand. I need to find Last of the Strong.”
The rumormonger’s eyes widened ever so slightly before he turned away. “Right. Well, I’m sorry, I don’t believe I can help you. Good day, sir.” Before Hirrus could say another word, the man walked away as fast as his legs could carry him, but not quite at a run yet.
Hirrus followed. He had to practically jog to keep up, but he wasn’t allowing Barin to lose him.
“My budget is simple enough to understand as well. I do believe you’ll want to hear me out.”
Barin glanced over his shoulder, his face full of contemptuous disregard. “I’m not interested in—”
Hirrus interrupted the man by drawing his axe.
He expected the rumormonger to freeze as confusion gave way to terror. To stammer or shriek.
But Barin (or his decision tree) was made of sterner stuff than that.
He bolted like a startled rabbit.
Hirrus broke into a run as well, matching the man’s pace. It wasn’t difficult, but Barin made him work for it. Hirrus was in better physical shape than any merchant, but fear was giving Barin unexpectedly effective motivation to push himself to his limits.
But that was alright. Hirrus didn’t need to catch up to the rumormonger quickly.
He only needed to catch him eventually.
Letting him tire himself out was actually in Hirrus’s best interest. It would show Barin that he couldn’t run from him. When he caught up, the man would be more inclined to answer his questions if escape seemed legitimately impossible rather than something he was narrowly denied.
“Come back here,” Hirrus bellowed after the man as he bolted down the street. He knew it wouldn’t stop him, but his goal right now was intimidation. And years on the guard had taught Hirrus how to raise his voice in an intimidating way.
Barin ducked into an alley. Hirrus followed. And then immediately almost tripped over him. Barin had paused, gasping for breath as he rounded the corner. The well-dressed man shrieked and started to run again immediately, but the sight of him thinking it was safe to stop after only breaking line of sight for a second made Hirrus let out a bark of laughter.
Then again, he remembered in all his time as a guard, his decision tree often made him stop chasing someone once they were out of a given range. Maybe Barin’s decision tree was being informed by some connection they shared as what Alric had called “NPCs”—whatever that meant.
Regardless, Hirrus wasn’t bound by those limitations anymore.
And now Barin knew that.
“Run,” Hirrus bellowed, his voice reverberating around the alley. He wondered what people inside those buildings thought was happening. No one seemed interested to investigate. Perhaps Inoha was just used to this type of clatter. “Run, coward! The conversation to follow will be much easier for me if you’re too tired to try to hide behind flowery words!”
Barin did what any fugitive fleeing from the guard would do.
He ran.
Hirrus figured that his decision tree wouldn’t let him do anything else until Hirrus took some action to disrupt it, but for now, the fear filling the man’s veins with adrenaline was serving its purpose. The rumormonger reached the end of the alley and barreled out into the street beyond. Hirrus was shortly behind him.
“Somebody?” Barin yelped, his words breathless and strangled. “Guards? Adventurers? Anyone?”
This street had a handful of people present, going about their business. Two porters were loading a cart with goods. They didn’t even look up at Barin’s call for help. A nearby guard started towards him, but as soon as Hirrus came into sight, the armored man shrugged and returned to his patrol.
There were no adventurers in sight. And it was unlikely any of them would have stopped to help the rumormonger anyway.
Hirrus put on a burst of speed, activating Split Second to cover the remaining distance to Barin’s side. He grabbed the fleeing man by the shoulder with his free hand and shoved him towards a nearby wall.
The unexpected change in momentum didn’t send the man crashing into the wall, but instead to the street in a tumble.
“What’s happening?” Barin wheezed, scrambling to get back to his feet. “Why won’t anyone help me?”
Hirrus stomped his boot down on one of Barin’s shoulder blades, forcing the man face-first back to the ground. He held him there for a moment, standing over him with his axe in hand.
Letting him squirm.
“What are you?” Barin managed in between gasps for breath. “What do you want?”
When he stepped off the man’s shoulder blade to kneel down next to him, Barin started to scramble, trying to escape again. Hirrus sighed and grabbed him by the back of the neck. Firmly held him down.
The rumormonger didn’t have the strength or leverage to fight back and so lay still at last.
“Last of the Strong,” Hirrus said, his voice rough from the light jog. “Where are they? Where can I find them and their leaders?”
“I-I can’t tell you.”
Hirrus didn’t try to banter. Instead, he touched his axe’s edge to the back of the downed man’s neck. “A shame, that.”
“W-wait! I can’t tell you right now,” Barin said quickly, going stiff as a board at the weapon’s touch. “I do not have the information. But! But I can! And definitely will tell you as soon as I have it.”
Hirrus smiled, a vicious thing the man couldn’t see. “Thank you,” he said in a mirthless tone. “Was that so hard?”
With a snarl, Hirrus released Barin. Letting go of the man caused him to scramble and roll away, but once he got to a seated position against the nearest building, he didn’t run.
Instead, he stared at Hirrus with mingled terror and confusion.
He made no move to continue the conversation.
Hirrus rested his axe across his shoulder and moved to loom over the cowering rumormonger. “Right, then. When should I find you? You can name a time. I don’t need to know the place.” He smiled, and he knew it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “I’ll find you.”
