Open beta a litrpg fanta.., p.10
Open Beta: a LitRPG fantasy adventure (Pixelate Book 3), page 10
Konroh’s current opponent didn’t seem keen on continuing his all-defensive strategy. He struck a quick blow that Konroh barely made any effort to avoid.
8
Because in return, Konroh swung two-handed, right for the juicy arteries in the neck.
29
3
+3
+14
Back to full health, and the Dragonoid’s head toppled to the floor.
250 XP
Two daggers caught the lungs of the one Dyz had teleported behind. It died instantly.
250 XP
Konroh put up a hand. He’d finally taken in their surroundings. A small, fold-out wooden table was spread with maps and notes. A chest of supplies with backpack straps lay open in one corner.
“Hold up!” Dyz froze, poised to strike. Konroh lowered his Ravager’s sword and raised an empty palm. “What are you doing down here?”
The Dragonoid, who’d just seen his four companions reduced to loot, slowly set his sword on the floor. “We are searchers.”
“Searching for what?” Dyz demanded.
“If I tell you, you’ll let me live?”
Konroh scoffed. “Sure. Whatever. Spill.”
“Ore,” the Dragonoid informed them. “The lost True Ore.”
Dyz was flipping through pages, one dagger still in hand. “Yeah. Says as much in their paperwork. He’s going to have to do better than that.”
“We are miners! Geolomancers! We pose no threat to you!”
“What’s the True Ore?” Konroh demanded. That sounded schlocky as hell, but it also sounded like Real Loot. Maybe a major side quest, maybe something intended to allow regular Joe players to compete with the likes of the Mountain Lord. No one was going to know for sure until he explored its secrets.
“Well… it’s the best ore. Left over from the creation of the world. It can be made into anything.”
“Like a weapon, maybe?” Dyz inquired. In a courtroom drama, she’d have been accused of leading the witness.
The Dragonoid scowled. “So small-minded. ANYTHING. It could make rivers, trees, birds, people. And yes, I suppose, weapons.”
“Why would the Mountain Lord want it?”
“Who said anything about the Mountain Lord?” the Dragonoid asked. “With enough True Ore, we wouldn’t NEED the Mountain Lord.”
“Aha!” Dyz declared. “OK, so it’s Rebellium, the MacGuffin of Freedom Fighters.”
“It’s Code,” Konroh reasoned. “That’s the only thing the creators made this place out of.”
The Dragonoid’s eyes widened. “That name. Yes! YES! I have heard it. You know of the True Ore, then? Your people have, perhaps, their own stories of the creation of the world.”
Konroh gulped. “Yeah. A bunch of really smart people gathered together by someone named Isaac. They toiled for years at machines that built this world from nothingness.”
“The Legend of Izik. My people tell a similar tale.”
Konroh couldn’t believe it. How much human brainpower was running amok in Spire of Fate that the inhabitants had started developing their own goddamn religions about the dev team?
“What do your people tell of Izik?” Dyz asked.
The Dragonoid was only too happy to oblige. “Izik is the creator and destroyer. The world has been created many times. Destroyed one fewer. We are all doomed. We, or our descendants, will witness the demise of yet another world. The blessed—or the cursed—will retain some memories. Whole lives will be lived over and over. A distorted echo. Only when Izik is satisfied that the world is perfect will he let us live our days in peace. This is, of course, impossible. Thus, we are doomed. With the True Ore, we can make our own world, free from Izik.”
Dyz looked directly at Konroh. “On a scale of 1 to Cthulhu, I’m at like a 9 for ‘creeped out.’”
“Super. You’re the level-headed one, then, because I’m pushing like a 12 right now.”
“Shooting the messenger never helps,” the Dragonoid suggested with a sharp-toothed grin.
Two daggers pierced the doom cultist’s heart from narrow angles.
250 XP
“Worth a try, at least,” Dyz declared.
RECEIVED: 125 Coins
RECEIVED: SHORT SWORD (5X)
“Why are you looting their shitty weapons?” Dyz asked him.
“Because someday they might come in handy, and there’s yet to be any reason not to carry everything. Remember Slapguy whipping out an entire buffet table?”
Dyz didn’t react. “Should I?” But she couldn’t maintain the ruse. She burst out laughing. “Sorry. Coping mechanism. That weirdo Dragonoid… I need brain bleach. These AIs are one step from fully realizing they’re computer programs and attempting to contact the outside world.”
“Do we… should we report this as a bug or something?”
“That sentient AI might be planning an escape? That they’re sending miners to look for lost code they can build a paradise out of? The first one sounds implausible. The second sounds just funny enough to let them try. What’s the point of reporting it?”
“Fine. Let’s see what they brought.”
The chest in the corner only appeared to be expedition supplies until they checked on it. Then, two treasure rewards popped up for them to choose from.
WINGED HELM OF JUMPING - 4 DEF - Greatly increases jumping distance.
FORGEMASTER SHIELD - 8 DEF - 50% reduced damage from Fire (100% with Shield Specialist)
OK, straightforward. Konroh wasn’t a shield guy. Spell Parry or nothing was his plan for fire spells.
RECEIVED: WINGED HELM OF JUMPING
“Ooh, sexy.”
“Really?” Konroh asked, unable to tell whether Dyz was being serious.
“Sure. I can’t tell whether you’re supposed to be an evil overlord in training or a delivery boy for a Viking-themed pizza place.”
“Nice.”
“What’d you take?”
Dyz performed a sleight-of-hand maneuver, twirling a dagger that hadn’t been in her hand a second ago. “Dagger upgrade. Didn’t need help picking THAT.”
“So. Shall we resume our shortcut?”
Dyz remained silent for a moment. “I… uh…”
“What?”
“I think maybe we just go back to following Tabub’s path. There’s shiz down here I’m happier not knowing.”
“Gotcha.”
The pair backtracked and picked up where they’d left off. It was a longer route but populated with far fewer existential crises.
CHAPTER 19
MAKING A SPLASH
Once upon a time, the Black Catacombs had been a joke as far as ambiance. Rigid, procedural, and sterile, it had all the foreboding of Castle Wolfenstein. Now, as Konroh and Dyz entered from the lowest depths, the dank, fetid air and the distant sound of prisoners moaning in agony, despair, and madness made the hair on Konroh’s neck stand up.
BLACK CATACOMBS
“Well, we’re in the right place, at least,” Dyz commented.
“I’d have been willing to be wrong.”
Chains rattled. Gears grumbled. The floor vibrated with the machinery of evil, unseen but heard, felt, and resonating down to the soul.
Their little passageway continued to match up with Tabub’s map. While most of the way, their path had been nonsense architecture, ruins for the sake of ruins, this section appeared to be a servants’ access way behind a prison complex. A wall of bars to one side overlooked a factory-like operation from mezzanine height, one whose gruesome work Konroh attempted to ignore.
Human and Kawaiian prisoners dangled by the wrists from chains. Their shackles hung from an overhead track, where Dragonoid workers slid them along with red-hot pokers as if it was the prisoners’ fault they weren’t moving.
The reek of seared flesh had Konroh covering his nose and mouth, wishing his gear was cloth this time around rather than plate. He even reached back and pulled his Cloak of Battering around in front of him, even if the primitive leather curing smelled almost as bad.
Dyz put up a hand and stopped him.
She aimed an accusing finger down at his Stompy Boots.
With a resigned sigh, Konroh shunted the noisy footwear into inventory. His Noble Knight’s Armor replaced them with plate boots that matched the rest of his base outfit.
Dyz shook her head. She pointed at his feet once more.
Konroh scowled. He removed his armor as well.
How he just wore his new helmet, cloak, gauntlets, and a loincloth. His chain belt still dangled the Book of Blood Magic, which he neither wanted to, nor was able to, get rid of.
However, he now made significantly less noise as he slunk along behind Dyz in the darkness. The wardens of this nightmarish prison failed to notice them.
An agonized scream got both of them to pause.
Dyz turned. Konroh didn’t follow her gaze until she grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him.
One of the prisoners was lowered into a cauldron. The bubbling liquid inside appeared red, yet so did everything these days. Weak and pathetic from abuse, little more than ribs and skin, the prisoner’s cry was the last of its mortal efforts to give. Thrashing spasmodically, it couldn’t keep itself above the roiling surface.
When the chain rose once again, a Razor Ghoul emerged. It jerked and struggled to be free. A Dragonoid with a crystal-tipped staff barked alien words, and the Razor Ghoul calmed. It obeyed. One of the worker Dragonoids unlocked its shackles, and it awaited orders.
Konroh’s mouth went dry.
The workers with their red-hot prods got the line of chained prisoners moving again. Metal scraped metal. Hope screamed out of raw lungs until nothing of it was left. Another life of misery ended with the promise of eternal servitude as an undead eating machine.
Dyz glared at him.
Konroh knew.
She wasn’t going to sneak past this. If Konroh wanted to keep going, he would be adventuring alone.
Instead, he nodded his assent.
The time for stealth winding to a close, he donned his Noble Knight’s Armor and Stompy Boots and held still. Dyz disappeared from view.
He knew what to do.
Allowing time for her to get into position, Konroh looked for the timing to make his move.
The operation below was Hell’s clockwork. Black iron cogs, oiled with blood. Unvarying. Unrelenting. Predictable as death.
Rather than attempt to sneak, Konroh fell into a role. He stood tall, back straight, eyes narrowed with intense purpose. He strode down the access corridor until he found a stairway leading down to the factory floor.
GHOUL FOUNDRY
What a cold, macabre name for the place. It ignored the lives being destroyed and focused solely on the industrial output of obedient, mindless soldiers.
He marched toward the Dragonoid with the staff, clearly the heart of the operation. “What is the meaning of this?” Konroh demanded, fighting back the urge to retch at the smell of the place.
“Who are you? What are you doing down here? Are you new?” The Dragonoid Necromancer looked Konroh up and down. “Ah. I see. Looking to inspect our operation.”
A crash of flesh meeting twin daggers interrupted the blossoming social interaction. The necromancer let out a gasp of pain but didn’t drop.
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+14
Konroh hacked at the guy. Still, the necromancer remained on his feet.
A beam of black energy struck Konroh in the face.
Nothing.
No damage. No weird effects. The guy might as well have been shining a flashlight at him. The only notable effect was Konroh actually seeing the black. He could also see the necromancer’s heart race faster and blood pool around the wounds he and Dyz had inflicted.
Lining up a more careful thrust, Konroh aimed straight for the foul heart.
>>58<< CRITICAL HIT
3
+3
+29
These guys needed some DEF. Decorative caster robes weren’t cutting it. He skewered the Dragonoid Necromancer with a fatal strike.
1,500 XP
A quest flashed on Konroh’s UI.
He checked.
SHUT DOWN THE GHOUL FOUNDRY: 0/1
It also listed three sub-quests.
SLAY NECROMANCER K’TYN: COMPLETE
SLAY FOUNDRY WORKERS: 0/10
FREE FOUNDRY PRISONERS
The latter didn’t have a counter, but Konroh held off reporting it as a bug in case it just worked differently than usual.
He and Dyz both looted the necromancer.
RECEIVED: 100 Coins
Konroh suspected that Dyz ended up with the staff this K’Tyn character had been wielding.
Of course, the suddenness of the combat hadn’t granted them immunity from the remaining foundry workers.
The newest Razor Ghoul and a bevy of prod-wielding workers rushed them.
Konroh hacked the Razor Ghoul to pieces with ease, even if it was harder to see for not having an active circulatory system.
200 XP
However, despite their less-than-threatening weapons, the Dragonoid Workers wielded those red-hot pokers with surprising strength behind their blows.
8
8
10
12
“Don’t get hit!” Konroh warned.
But Dyz was already nowhere to be seen.
HP: 67/105
Konroh backed against the cauldron of ghoul-making stew and Parried. His greater foe was keeping his stomach from heaving up devs-only-knew what. He hadn’t eaten, but he felt something about to force a violent exit.
However, with nothing able to approach him from behind, he held off four Dragonoid Workers at once. Others throughout the foundry shouted to one another in their own language as they fanned out, searching for Dyz.
14
3
+3
+7
HP: 77/105
14
3
+3
+7
HP: 87/105
14
3
+3
+7
HP: 97/105
One of the Dragonoid Workers went down.
400 XP
Oh, this place was promising to be some solid XP.
Another of the sadistic brutes piled in to occupy the space left by the guy who’d recently turned into a floating pile of Coins.
Out in the foundry, unseen, a Dragonoid screamed in pain.
Sloppy, Konroh kept to himself. If it screamed, she missed a vital organ.
He kept up his Parrying and Riposting. The Dragonoid Workers couldn’t get at him. Konroh continued to chip away at them.
400 XP
400 XP
The kills were starting to add up.
XP: 23,550/32,000
SLAY FOUNDRY WORKERS: 3/10
The number jumped to 4/10 as Konroh checked it. Somewhere out there, Dyz had finished off another.
400 XP
Konroh steadily wore down his foes.
400 XP
400 XP
“WATCH OUT BEHIND YOU!” Dyz bellowed.
For her to reveal her location so blatantly meant something awful had to be coming for him. Konroh Parried a pair of blows, then glanced over his shoulder.
The cauldron still had his back, and he couldn’t spot anyone approaching from either side.
SPLASH.
Something huge fell into the murky stew of the cauldron. The contents sloshed over the lip. All over Konroh.
The three Dragonoid Workers squaring off against him scattered rather than attempt to take advantage of Konroh’s plight. A bathtub spill of some mutagenic toxin flooded around his boots.
Konroh braced himself for a giant damage number. For pain. For some indeterminate weird effect, even turning into a Razor Ghoul on the spot.
All he felt was wet, sticky, and nauseated.
A roar from behind and above him warned Konroh that he wasn’t in the clear just yet.
He spared a hand to Examine the monstrosity he found there.
DRAGONOID GHOUL - Undead.
Well, wasn’t THAT peachy? The Dragonoid Ghoul hopped down, and Konroh had to Parry and dodge aside just to keep from being crushed. Claws slashed, and he Parried again. But the ever-so-brave Dragonoid Workers came at his blind side now.
8
12
HP: 85/105
400 XP
Dyz must have killed another somewhere.
Konroh counterattacked the Dragonoid Ghoul using Riposte.
14
Crap. Undead couldn’t be drained, and that was a decent chunk of his strategy. That hadn’t really mattered when he was merely disposing of regular Razor Ghouls, but this thing was bigger, meaner, and had friends.
Konroh Parried a pair of swiping slashes but couldn’t protect his back.
8
9
HP: 68/105
This was no good. Fine. There were only two back there behind him. Dyz might have gotten the third while he wasn’t looking.
He couldn’t keep this up. While Dyz’s contributions were a wild card, there were other Dragonoid Workers still lurking in the foundry. If she didn’t give them something to chase, they’d converge on Konroh as well.
Knowing he had to gamble, Konroh whirled. He struck one of the Dragonoid Workers, heedless of the damage he’d received in return.
>>58<< CRITICAL HIT
3
+3
+29
It was getting a lot easier to score crits now that he could aim at internal anatomy.
400 XP
XP: 25,550/32,000
SLAY FOUNDRY WORKERS: 6/10
HP: 100/105
The Dragonoid Worker and Dragonoid Ghoul were determined to prove to Konroh what a mistake he’d just made.
A blazing poker clobbered him.
8
The Dragonoid Ghoul swiped, and Konroh was able to avoid one of the strikes with his own swordsmanship. He caught a painful blow to the abdomen with the other, threatening to eject the contents of his stomach manually, rather than via disgust.
35
HP: 57/105
“This thing is a mini-boss. Can you get the last regular one off me?”
“On my way!” Dyz reported, but her voice was distant. She was on the far side of the foundry.
Konroh couldn’t risk waiting.
