Mark of the crijik a lit.., p.1
Mark of the Crijik: A LitRPG Adventure, page 1
MARK OF THE CRIJIK
©2022 THINKTWICE
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the authors.
Aethon Books supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact editor@aethonbooks.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Aethon Books
www.aethonbooks.com
Print and eBook formatting by Steve Beaulieu. Art by Francell Garrote.
Published by Aethon Books LLC.
Aethon Books is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.
All rights reserved.
ALSO IN SERIES
Mark of the Crijik Book 1
Mark of the Crijik Book 2
CONTENTS
1. I used to have a handle on life, but then it broke.
2. I want to be a god.
3. I am above dirt in the food chain. Fear me.
4. The secret to talent is money.
5. I am a dragon. Hear me roar!
6. The Golden Rule: Those with all the gold make the rules.
7. No more jokes. It’s time to become overpowered.
8. A system? I don't even know them.
9. My dad is pretty awesome.
10. Cities are like onions. Layered and smelly.
11. Earth magicians are as happy as a pig in mud.
12. I would love to stand here and talk to you, but I'm not going to.
13. I’m not afraid to die, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.
14. The secret to becoming one with the universe is in the palm of my hand.
15. I’m here to kick ass and learn symbols. And I’m all out of—
16. If you’re so rich, why can’t you afford a roof?
17. Babies are life’s big mystery. You never know when you’re going to get crapped on.
18. I’m a trump card that flips the table and shoots the other players.
19. I took the path less traveled. Help. I’m lost.
20. Women who carry a little extra weight live longer than the men who mention it.
21. Magic is the greatest invention since sliced bread.
22. Delaying death is one of my favorite hobbies.
23. Reports of my death were not greatly exaggerated.
24. A bird in the hand is worth two in th— Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!
25. If I don’t push the limits, who will? The people behind me?
26. I know myself. Now, I need to know my enemy.
27. I’m an ordinary adult. I put my diaper on one leg at a time.
28. My body is a temple. Crumbling and filled with bugs.
29. Alone. The most awful word in the English language.
30. The unending void, consumer of all. Some call it magic. Others call it my stomach.
31. In the beginning, the toddler was invented. This has been widely regarded as a bad move.
32. Chapter 32: With great power comes great responsibility…and money. So much money.
33. Today I stopped and asked, "What if I don't want to be a shoe?"
34. They say he carved that sword himself…from a bigger sword.
35. I got stabbed. After ten days of agony, the sword died.
36. You can’t give up on your family, no matter how tempting they make it.
37. Why doesn’t anyone want to stab me in the back?
38. Finally, a good reason to punch a toddler in the face.
39. When I was a kid my parents moved a lot, but I always found them.
40. The best way to win is to make your opponent question reality.
41. If I’d known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.
42. People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day.
43. 2.
44. I’m an introvert. Isolation is like second nature to me.
45. Sorry I’m late. I was busy talking about my feelings and killing people.
46. I wish I was full of tacos instead of emotions.
47. Your eyes show me what your heart desires. Food. It’s always food.
48. I’m on fire and yet somehow at peace.
Thank you for reading Mark of the Crijik
Groups
LitRPG
1 I USED TO HAVE A HANDLE ON LIFE, BUT THEN IT BROKE.
The last rays of sunlight splashed against a concrete city, my eyes soaking in their radiance as I looked down on the buildings. The view, so timeless in its beauty, beckoned to me. So close to the edge of death. My neighbors hated coming up here. They were scared of falling.
I used the railing to dry my clothes.
The grand sight was spectacularly ruined by the addition of my underwear and anime shirts. It didn’t matter to me. I was the only one who got to see this view. That made it special.
“Andross Silver?”
“That’s me,” I chirped as I hung the remainder of my laundry.
“Don’t hate me for this.”
A hand pushed my back. “Wha—”
I tried to resist, I really did. The strength of a full-grown man, and still it was too much for me to fight against. It had been too sudden.
The railing shrieked in protest as my body was flung against it. For a second, I thought the metal would hold me in its embrace. Then, with a pop, it released its grip on me. Air rushed against my body, and flakes of rust tore through my skin.
Pain flashed in my side. Something felt out of place. My ribs weren’t where they were supposed to be. I took one final look at the person above me. The one who had taken my life.
She was beautiful.
The entire world faded away as I stared into her golden eyes.
Then everything went black.
Warmth. Loving, comforting warmth. It pressed against my legs, trickled across my belly, and finally at my head. I opened my eyes. The world was blurry around me. Then I saw it. A giant head. Its lips opened and closed as it spoke to me, and its words flowed through my ears and caressed my heart.
It was a woman.
Then I remembered. The golden eyes, the pain. I hadn’t gone quietly, or quickly. My eyes closed, but the rush of memories pushed through. The pain was too much for me. I cried. I never stopped crying…
I might have exaggerated a little.
I didn’t know when I fell asleep, but the warm body at my side and the gentle cooing of the woman’s voice let me know I was safe. The building spun softly as she rocked me gently. She laid me down into a bed. No. A cot. Its sides were barred unnecessarily.
I’m a fighter. I grabbed at the sky and kicked with my legs. Empty air was all I met. With all my willpower, I forced myself to rise, my body straining with effort, but I couldn’t move. I had to face the reality of my situation.
My head was stuck.
Really, truly stuck. It was too big for my body. The smooth wrapping of my pillow cuddled the back of my head, and it shifted aside as I tried to move to see my surroundings. I didn’t succeed.
The days flew by. There wasn’t much for me to do when I was trapped by the weight of my own head.
What had happened? I didn’t know. I couldn’t know.
I was a baby. Again. The panic subsided as my body fought against it, sleeping and eating taking priority in my mind. Sometimes, it would be too much, and I’d break out crying. My mother would come into the room and hold me, and my panic would subside.
The ceiling was my best friend. My only friend. My parents were the only other people in this house. The green walls, aged with scratches and peeling paint, had seen better days. Once there was a painting here. I could see its outline. Now, there was nothing for me except for the peeling paint and splinters. Every minute was filled with the shenanigans all newborn humans went through.
Eat.
Sleep.
Ponder death and reincarnation in an unfeeling world that moves past me day by day, night by night.
You know, the classic baby stuff.
It didn’t take long for my crying to subside. Or maybe it did. My concept of time was slowly fading. The only indicator of time passing were the rays of sunlight filtering through the poorly constructed walls. I made a game out of reaching for them. If I touched one with my fingers, then I won. There was no prize, but I still felt a rush of happiness every time I did it.
My parents came in every day to talk to me, and to hold me. Once I felt something fall on my cheek, a single dropl
Why was she crying? Was I sick?
I didn’t feel sick. I felt magnificent. So much energy, so much time. So little responsibility. The sound of a giggle resounded through the air. I couldn’t hold it back. My baby brain shot happy chemicals into me after a single good thought.
My mother turned back to me with a smile, and everything returned to normal.
Why do they keep me inside this room? The thought tickled at my mind.
I was a baby. I should be going outside in my mother’s arms. I should be marveling at the sights of the world and the sky, the stars winking down on me with their gentle rhythm.
Instead, I was stuck staring above.
Do I have a name?
Do my parents have names? If they did, then I hadn’t heard them.
The wood formed patterns, and I weaved them into stories. The eyes of the warped north section gazed into the east’s bunny. A strange and terrifying splotch of mold was the wolf of the west. Its blue and white fur dug into a hearty plank of wood. It grew at an alarming rate.
Then, finally, there were the stars. Dozens of them flying through the air at random speeds. Twinkling lights that radiated gold. I saw a new one crawl through the cracks in the planks, its glittering body no bigger than a mosquito.
Hold on.
What stars? Those hadn’t been there before.
My eyes widened. Drops of golden light flitted into the air above me, tantalizingly close. They teased me by drifting out of my reach. I admired their beauty.
What were they?
The baby in me was excited. Anything new sent a rush of amazement into my brain. Anything moving was a new thing to touch.
The logical part of me was going through a woodchipper.
Their very existence shrieked against my instincts. A cacophony of thoughts wiped the smile off my face as the lights approached. The drops floated lazily, like boats in an invisible river. They had no set destination. One wriggled above me playfully. Its golden radiance touched the walls, and the decrepit painting grew brighter. Everywhere they touched came alive.
The splinters grew sharper, deadlier. The paint dazzled my senses, bright green and fiery red, and the light of the sun brightened, warming my skin.
I let out a happy shriek that shot throughout the house.
The sound of footsteps echoed across my cot. The lights wiggled in the vibrations of my father’s footsteps. I could hear clopping and knew he wore those brown boots he used when going out of the house. Maybe the lights had interrupted him.
A figure in white followed. My mother. They spoke in low tones, but I was close enough to feel their body warmth. Father spoke quicker than usual. His hand shook the cot, and I saw him shivering.
My mother responded with two words.
It was hard to learn a language only going off verbal cues. At least at first. I didn’t know if they were speaking English when I first arrived. Maybe they were, and my ears hadn’t developed yet, but now I could understand them almost perfectly. Though I only heard two words repeated each day.
“First night.”
This time, I heard the word ‘halfway.’
I reached out to my mother, her lips turned downwards and her hair drooping. It wasn’t the lights that upset her but something else. Something I couldn’t understand yet.
It was frustrating. I already had so much I didn’t understand, and now something new curled its talons into my heart.
A shadow passed over my eyes, and I giggled as my mother reached down to pat my stomach. My emotions went against my thoughts, the blessing of having a child’s body. My parents didn’t leave me alone that day. The light danced through their hair and weaved into the walls around me. Beautiful wisps as bright as the stars I used to stare at.
Then the walls shook.
I felt it in my body, the house trembling. My parents froze, and my father took a deep breath. Something touched my ears, an unfamiliar sound, culminating in a loud bang.
My mother was the first to react. The ceiling lurched as she grabbed on to me, my vision darkening as strands of her hair fell onto my eyes. I held on to her clothes tightly, trusting her to bring me to safety. My breathing matched hers as she rushed through the house. The breeze brushed against my skin, its calming caress offset by its frigid temperature.
I was outside of the house for the first time in my life.
The strange sound entered my ears once again. I could hear it better this time, a cry in the air. It grew louder. My heart bounced like a jackhammer. We were headed toward it. What was my mother doing?
Something pounded against my skull, the beating of my mother’s heart. It was like a jackhammer. It drowned out my thoughts, and I struggled to get away from it. Maybe she felt my struggles, maybe I had more strength than I realized, but I broke my head free and caught my first glimpse of the outside world.
There was a bird on the ground. Black feathers tainted with purple flapped against dirt and dust, failing to gather the energy needed to brush them off. Its body was as round as mine, and its stomach crushed the blades of grass underneath it as it moved. It limped toward my mother without a care in the world, dragging its body forward. Each foot had seven claws. One of its legs was twisted in an unnatural angle.
The bird was injured.
I looked into its eyes, and I saw pain.
Save it. I tried to say.
I wasn’t going to let something die. Not after what I’d been through. Nobody deserved to go through that pain.
“A puffer?” My mother’s heartbeat slowed.
She deflated, and her hold on me relaxed.
Then she turned away. The bird was in pain, but she had more urgent things to do. The sun was already going down, and her arms were busy holding me.
Then the puffer let out a cry. It was so soft the world around it didn’t react. The trees weren’t swayed, and the dirt still gathered around its body, but my heart wouldn’t stay still.
Save it. My gurgles annoyed me more than ever.
If only she could understand me. I needed to get a single word out. Then this creature’s pain could be stopped.
“Sa—” I struggled violently to get the word out of my mouth.
“What was that?” My mother turned her head toward me. “Sa?”
My throat gave up. My mother’s attention was on the wrong thing. I held a hand limply toward the animal. It was suffering, and I wanted her to help it.
The breeze blew past me as she bent down toward the animal.
“You’re right.” My mother held the struggling bird upside down from its legs. “This can be our dinner. What a smart boy you are.”
I cried mutely.
It was a dumb animal. It didn’t even know where it was or sense the danger approaching. Evolution said it deserved to die.
I couldn’t accept that. It hadn’t asked to be in this situation, its life dictated by creatures beyond its understanding.
I couldn’t get her attention with words, so I tried something different. I reached out with my hand and felt the silky smooth strands of her auburn hair, coiling them playfully in my fingers. Then I pulled. Hard.
I’m sorry, Mother.
“Hmm?”
She looked at me, and then at the bird. She raised the bird in her hand, and then I pulled her hair again. She lowered the bird, and then I let go of her hair.
Mother released the creature. Dust plumed into the air at the impact. “You don’t want us to eat it, do you?”
