The Beginning (Dark Paladin Book #1) LitRPG Series Page 2
I was rammed in the chest and thrown a few meters back; both my arms were torn off. The last thing I saw before fainting was a bloody fountain gushing from where the enemy’s head had been. The torn-off arms still pushing on the trigger did it: the enemy was destroyed. The rest was not my concern…
All the way!
New user initialization in progress
Choose a name
Darkness retreated instantly, as if someone had thrown a switch. A moment, and I became aware that I was lying on my back staring at a snow-white ceiling. I felt no headache, no sleepiness, no nausea – the standard symptoms of vodka overindulgence. The only thing breaking the pattern of my usual world were strange messages obscuring the ceiling. Perhaps they were the reason for me finding myself in the hospital: someone had figured out that I had a bout of DTs. I could also feel that something was not right with me: the battle I had dreamt about was so bright and vivid that it seemed real. Ha! Why would warrior mages show up in our reality? They would only appear to someone who was seriously intoxicated.
Choose a name
The apparition refused to disappear, thus confirming its unnatural origin. It was amazingly similar to a standard game message used by all computer games, and it kept floating in front of my eyes. Even when I closed them to rest from the whiteness of the hospital room. I would have to report this to a doc, that I'm having residual hallucinations. Perhaps they'd give me some pills? I opened my eyes and finally looked around. White walls, white ceiling and the white floor on which I was lounging so comfortably. Everything was white. Even my clothes were white. I noticed with significant relief that my arms were still attached to the right places. The nightmare I had just gone through was so realistic that I was in doubt for a few seconds. But no, my arms were in order and working properly, so there had not been any mage. Besides, how would something like that appear in real life? This is no game after all.
Choose a name
Blasted thing! Oh well, that would not do! Something needs to be done with my head or else they will stick me in a loony bin for sure. Could this be a test? The guys had been saying that close to our base there was some kind of a top secret facility; could it be that I'd been shipped off to there? The brainiacs there figured out that I have a gaming problem and so they fitted me with undetectable lenses similar to G*-Glass and were now sending their messages to me? Perhaps they were now watching me and placing bets on how soon I would start bashing my head against the wall.
“Sergey Lemeshev!” I stated my name clearly, wanting to proceed to the second part of the test.
You cannot choose the name used by you during life
Choose a name
During life?!
“This is not funny!” — I screamed, trying to fend off the panic “what kind of a stupid joke is that?”
Name chosen “This is not funny”
Save changes?
When to huge buttons backlit in white "OK” and “Cancel” were added to the messages I could not take it any longer and tried to pull the lenses out of my eyes. May they all rot in hell! I never agreed to that, and did not want to keep taking part in this absurdist theatre. Pretend I am dead, my ass. For jokes like that people end up in court in a flash!
Waiting time expired, changes will be reset
Choose a name
The buttons disappeared. But they took my self-control with them: there were no lenses. I clawed at my eyes mercilessly, but the messages would not even budge, as if they appeared directly in my head. As if they were outside of this world. Just like me!
“NOOOOOO!” I screamed bitterly, refusing to believe the obvious: the battle had been real. I happened to die at the hands of a warrior mage, and the place where I came to was purgatory.
On this note my consciousness could not take it anymore and faded, sending me into a faint. The mind refused to accept my own death.
Choose a name
I did not know for how long I stayed unconscious. But at some point in time I came to, and realized that it was not a dream. Not a figment of my sick and feverish imagination. Not someone’s mean joke. I really did die, and now for some reason it was proposed that I take a new name. I wanted to howl and scream, close my eyes and leave this nightmare forever, but the persistent message would not leave. Quite the opposite – it became brighter and shone more intensely as if it worried that I might have missed it. Besides, it grew larger, by now filling most of my field of view. I looked at the silver letters with open hatred, and growled the first name that popped into my head:
“Yari! Yaropolk!”
Over the last seven years this name had become so much a part of me that many called me that even in real life. Few remembered that the skinny guy was named Sergey, but many knew me as Yari or Yaropolk. The Paladin of Light, damn it! I registered with that name in all the computer games, which were the reason, by the way, why I ended up in the army after college rather than getting a fine job. To be more precise – because of which I decided to serve a term in an army that would definitely not offer any online games, so I could get rid of my game addiction. I used to spend ten hours a day playing those games, forgetting about the real world, so the idea to do a term in the army where no online games would be available for sure seemed ideal to me. Since the games were the reason why I ended up dead, let them atone for this at least by that name.
Name chosen: “Yaropolk”, short name “Yari”
Accept changes?
Two buttons appeared and I realized that unless I pressed “OK” immediately, the changes would reset again and I would have to stare at that loathsome message some more. Unable to figure out a better way, I stared at the button, mentally commanding it to push itself. I recalled a situation from my life: there was a time when I had sat in front of my cat for the longest time and tried to hypnotize him in a similar way. I wanted the stupid animal to succumb to my superior mind and start talking, but all I got was a cat who lost interest and turned away from me, and a broken cup that I shattered in my rage. As an ESP I was not much.
Once I replayed in my head the situation with the cat and compared it to my current situation, I started laughing so hard I bent over. I had never laughed like that before. All the comedians in the world stood in no comparison to my yawning cat and my rage. Laughter swelled within me, trying to bubble over and show its overwhelming emotional power to the entire world.
Name accepted
Character race determined
Character is being generated
At some point the wild uncontrollable laughter was replaced by tears; I completely shut off the "manly” side, which was supposed to be strong as granite and not feel any excessive emotions, but which was drowning in tears. I died. I will never see my relatives and friends. Some bastard in the magic coat destroyed me like a fly, tearing my limbs off before killing me. And now I am in a purgatory for gamers, where they are made into computer game characters; this process does not resemble anything else. Such a simple hell for hardcore gamers – to stay an NPC for the rest of eternity.
Character generation complete
I wanted to tell everyone to get lost, but suddenly someone turned off the light, and my consciousness along with it. Something blinked and I heard some voices nearby:
“…the patient is steadily declining. We are struggling, but there is no improvement so far.”
“Is there any hope?”
“No. He was treated too late. We can keep him going for a couple more days but then he will slip away.”
“That’s a pity. This soldier saved fifteen people and destroyed the enemy. Another hero to be rewarded posthumously. I’ve seen so many of them already…”
Something blinked again and the voices changed:
“…final journey. He will live forever in our memory!”
“My son, my darling...”— the familiar voice of my mother, full of tears, sounded right next to my ear, followed by a burning touch of lips to my forehead. Hey, mom, I'm alive!
Something clu
nked dully, then I was jolted and found myself again in the room with white walls.
Choose character class
Bastards!
A colorful window popped up in front of me, showing a lengthy list: mage, hunter, priest, druid, warrior, fighter… hundreds if not thousands of lines appeared before me; once I focused my gaze on one of them an image instantly appeared. A mage casting lightning bolts; a shaman calling on the spirits; a warrior crushing all around him; a druid working with plants. I stared at the dance of the images, but basically couldn’t see anything. After I heard my mother’s voice I felt so low that I mumbled without even listening to my own words:
“Paladin.”
Leaving for the army I did not give much thought to what my mother’s life would become if she stayed alone with my twelve-year-old sister. But now it felt like a band tightened around my chest: mom was slaving at two jobs to make sure there was food on the table and clothes for us; she did everything she could to make sure her babies knew no hardship. She forgave me constant gaming and mediocre grades. She rejoiced when I entered college and shook her head in bewilderment as I decided to join the army, but never said a word against it. According to her, I would need to choose my own path… So look where all that choosing landed me…
Current class: Paladin
Initial settings complete
Character level: 1
A status bar, standard for games, appeared at the bottom of my field of view once again, informing me that I had gone into the game. Emotions faded as tears dried up, so I decided to take another couple of minutes to assess the abilities of my character. If I was destined to continue as a computer unit, I should know what it could do.
Drawing on the experience I already had pushing buttons, I stared at the icons in the status bar and issued a mental order: “Open”. Immediately a semi-transparent window appeared, covering practically my entire field of view.
Yari, Paladin, human. Level 1 player. Points needed to progress to next level: 1000. There was also something called “Specialty”, but it wasn’t clear what it covered or what advantages it conferred. There was Energy. What was that for? Another unknown. I could not help noticing the absence of the familiar indicators: Strength, Intelligence, Agility, Endurance and Life reserve. All games had these five core indicators in some way or another. Sometimes it was even considered that games without these words were perceived to be deficient, but the game in which I happened to end up could not care less about that. Energy was a be-all and end-all here…
By the way: where was I?
Judging strictly by how I felt, I was still alive. I could hear‒ I made a noise to verify that, just in case. I could see: the white walls served as confirmation. I could feel and breathe – I could do anything! I could even think! The conclusion was obvious: I had no idea what was going on.
If I were a gamer, then where was my character? If I were a character then where was my gamer, and why did I have a certain degree of freedom? If I was both gamer and character at the same time, how could that be possible? And finally – even though it was a rhetorical question anyway, but still – what would happen if I were killed?
The questions went unanswered. No window appeared with a detailed description of the game, nor did I see a specially trained character who would bring all the newbies up to speed. There was nothing besides the semitransparent window and the white room. I bit my lip in annoyance; the pain I felt was quite real. I kept studying the tabs.
Spell Book. A book appeared in front of me, floating in the air and iridescent. Now it was blank, but a strange feeling of recognition overwhelmed me. Right! This was the Spell Book from the game “Heroes of Might and Magic III!” Exactly like it! The same massive book with the pages yellowed from age, sporting several currently inactive bookmarks and funny icons. Someone’s into plagiarism! Either the HoMM3 developers or the game itself!
Generally I was very glad to see that magic could be used in the game. I would bring forth the truth by my sword as well as by my word. I liked Paladins because they were universal: in each game I’ve played this class was capable of performing all sorts of functions: tank, healer, fighter. Role selection depended exclusively on how many of your fingers were thumbs. If you had just the right number of them, you could become a healer or a tank. If you had a few too many, shaky and crooked and liable to keep your character in some puddle of fire — only the fighters for you, only hardcore. Mostly, the hardcore task would be for the healers trying to cure the twit with the last drops of mana and screaming into the mike to get that moron to come out of the fire. Besides, afterwards the healers would be the ones having to put up with “The healers suck! They can’t do nothing! Ham-handed noobs! I'm leaving!”
Location map. While it had several available scales, in all the modes my map was covered in fog. There was not a single hint as to where I was or where I needed to go. Very informative indeed.
Personal inventory. A small shimmering shelf invited me to put something on it. It was so tiny that it would house three or four books, not more. Five centimeters long and ten wide; my personal inventory storage space reminded me more than anything of the line I read at the initial screen: “Newbie”.
Initial character familiarization is complete. Are you ready to start the game?
I looked at the buttons angrily and smiled without humor. To hell with you! If my fate is to become a game character, there is no sense in delaying it. Sooner or later it will happen anyway.
Accept!
An electric shock jolted me, making me faint. Once I felt my body once again, I realized that I was lying on my back. In complete darkness. And I could not move a single body part. I was not even breathing!
If I could have drawn some air, I would have screamed with all my might. Not because I was afraid of darkness – because I was afraid to stay like that for the entire rest of eternity. What if my role was that of a paladin locked in a tomb, never to be found? Hundreds, thousands, millions years of solitude! While you could go mad here in a week!
“Shit, that’s new,” – suddenly my solitude was broken by a hoarse voice – “looks f…ing fresh.”
“Squint, what if there’s no shit there? Why should we bust our ass for nothing?”
“Shut the f… up! I saw the old hag at the funeral – she was crazy as f…! Could have easily thrown something in with that bastard. Look, what if there’s a medal there? That’s no shit! Petrovich’ll give us a couple of bottles of vodka for it, and maybe some money too!”
Body control will be available after return to world. Wait.
I was found! Guys, friends, pull me out – quick! I am here! I am alive!
The wild fear that had washed over me a few moments back was replaced by complete happiness. I didn't even bother with the thought that I was in a coffin; the joy from knowing that the darkness would soon recede filled my whole being. Somewhere at the periphery a thought flashed that since I was lying in a coffin the diggers must be grave robbers, who would not want to have extra witnesses. They could hit me over the head with a shovel or hoe sending me back to the grave. This time for good. But all of that flashed somewhere at the back of my mind and vanished right away: the anticipation of returning to the world pushed everything else aside.
“Squint, I’m f..ing tired of digging! Why in hell did they have to dump him so deep in?”
“F..ed if I know! Come on, there’s just a dick’s width left! Suck it up and dig harder! Here it is!”
There was a sound of metal hitting metal.
“I got the box! Whack it here, it’ll bump the lid.”
Full body control reached. Game world: Earth. Local time: year 2015
Have a great game!
Absolute darkness dissipated replaced by the twilight of a summer night and the dim light of a lamp. In addition, there were two dirty bearded mugs staring at me with interest from above.
“That was an ugly one for sure,” one of the diggers drawled, and I was immediately overwhelmed by a wave of
sensation. I felt the cold, something sharp pricking my back, clumps of earth sliding down, but the most important thing I felt was that I really needed air.
“Aaaargh!” I sighed noisily, stretching my back. Like a young inexperienced diver coming to the surface after holding on underwater without breathing for two minutes. Colored sparks jumped in my vision, my head was swimming, so I sat up purely on reflex, pushing with my hands on the edge of the coffin. With my hands! I had hands! And arms! Two normal working moving arms! This fact cleared my head, the sparks faded and I was finally able to see my saviors, frozen at the far edge of the grave.
“Hi,” — that’s all I was able to say before bending over in a fit of coughing. My chest felt tight, breathing was almost impossible and it felt as I was coughing out what was left of my lungs. Each breath came in with a wheeze, the sparks happily regained their places in front of me, and instead of dizziness there was a huge message that obscured my entire field of view:
Negative effect sustained: “Tomb dust”. Consequences: uncontrollable coughing fit. Duration: unlimited; resets for 30 seconds every 5 minutes. To neutralize the effect drink any liquid.
“Water,”— I croaked, having read the message on something like the fifth attempt. Judging from how I felt, I had already coughed out my lungs and now it was my stomach’s turn. — “Gimme water!”
The coughing would not stop. All thoughts vanished from my head, space contracted to a point and sucked in the entire world around me like a black hole. All I had left was the word “water” that I mumbled like a mantra.