Spear of Destiny: Chapter 1

Finally! The final-final Chapters 1, 2 & 3! A chapter every 2 days to follow. Thanks for being patient with all the revisions, etc. Chapter One is the absolute bedrock of this story in a lot of ways, with details and dialogue that had to be refined many times to make the book work.
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Chapter One

The self-styled Emperor of Archemi was a lot bigger than I remembered.

Baldr Hyland was nearly seven feet tall, dressed in silvered armor that reflected the desert sun. His face was shielded by a great helm that resembled an eagle’s beak, complete with piercing jeweled eyes. He looked like a paladin out of legend, a hero to inspire awe and terror. Like most other things about him, it was a steaming pile of horse shit.

[Warning. The Void draws near.]

[You are immune to Corruptionn nn nn nn-]

“Jeez…” I let go of my dragon's wrist, and dropped back down to our arena: the enormous expanse of Withering Rose’s back. The great machine kneeled on hands and knees in the desert sands, steam still pouring through the cracks of her armor. “Look, Baldr or Oral Gel or whatever you’re calling yourself now: if you’re about to do some crazy villain speech, could we find some shade before you get into it? I don’t know about you, but I’m boiling my ass off in this armor.”

“Steven Park’s kid brother,” Baldr’s deep Appalachian drawl was gone, replaced by a cool neutral tenor that sounded like it had come from somewhere in the far north of the UNAC. Canada, maybe, or Minnesota. Ororgael’s voice. “He always said you were witty, with a sharp sense of humor. I see he was wrong about that too.”

“In his defense, Steve didn’t know me real well.” My skin crawled as I turned to face him. Intellectually, I knew that somethinghad possessed Baldr back in Cham Garai all those months ago, but actually seeing it was creepy as hell. The way he spoke, the way Ororgael used Baldr’s face, the way he stood… it was all wrong. Like something out of The Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

I opened a telepathic link to my stunned, frightened dragon. “Karalti. Get out of here.”

“No!” Karalti sucked in a deep throatful of air, neck swelling. “I won’t leave you!”

“He's going to kill me, and neither of us are jacked enough to stop him. Go back to Myszno and hide somewhere. Not the castle – somewhere else.”

“I see my Queen is in good health, all limbs intact.” Ororgael pushed the visor of his helmet up so I could see his face. Hard cut, handsome… pitiless. The Trial of Marantha, the mutations that had turned us both into dragonriders, had sucked the melanin out of Baldr’s skin. The admin’s borrowed avatar was as pale and heartless as a Roman sculpture, a lock of white, feathery hair flickering in the gusts of searing desert wind.

“Hey! Asshole! I have a name!” Karati’s crest of horns flared out in a fan around her skull. She pulled her lips back over her teeth, a low, menacing growl rumbling up from her chest.

“Cute.” Ororgael snorted. “She’s small, though. My silver bull, Hyperion, is not. That’ll be a problem come egg-laying time.”

A fierce spike of rage surged up through my body. “Whatever he’ll do to you is worse than what he’ll do to me. Go! NOW!”

Karalti flinched visibly at my command. Ororgael chuckled, thinking he'd riled her, then froze with a small frown as the dragon abruptly warped into a dark nimbus before vanishing.

“She can teleport?” He cocked his head in a way Baldr never would have. “That’s useful. Usta can’t do that.”

“, it’s gotta be real crowded in there with two people sharing half a brain,” I remarked, ignoring his question. “Do you go by Baldr or Ororgael now? Orbal? Baldo?”

“Ororgael is fine. ‘Your Majesty’ is better. Capital M – I can tell the difference.” He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Baldr is gone, Park. I use his name for the sake of convenience, and because Hyland is a decent name for a warrior-emperor. I didn’t see the need for a surname when I was playtesting.”

“I… what?” My skin crawled as I shifted into a defensive stance. “Baldr’s dead?”

“Oh, he’s not dead. Though, I suppose he’s not really alive, either. I held onto his data in case I needed to mine it,” Ororgael said absently. “He was a fairly talented FPS gamer. The military training is useful, too. I’ve taken some bits out of him, left others.”

“Dude… what? He’s trapped? Inside his own body?” I wasn’t sure why it was important to me, but it was. “You’re keeping him like… what? Like a slave or something?”

“No. More like a toy that I pull apart and put back together. Every human is just a big wet database, after all.” He shrugged. “You’re upset by this? After what he did to you?”

It was my turn to sneer. “Baldr was a back-stabbing asshole, but he didn’t deserve that.”

Ororgael’s lips played in a small, confused smile. “There are so many bigger things to worry about, Park. Besides, the player’s not exactly anything to write home about. Real name, Brandon Marshey. Poor white trash from a fly-over town in Kentucky. He was starting to make money as a streamer before he got addicted to pills and blew it all away. The only reason he joined the army is because the courts ordered him to. There, he spent the rest of his short, miserable life as a mechanized grunt. No awards, no accolades, no heroic battlefield achievements. The only time he ever felt like he mattered was when he was gaming. We don’t need that kind of pathetic data cluttering up the AI’s learning cycles, Hector. Trust me. He’s better off this way.”

The rage that had ignited when Ororgael had creeped on Karalti was now at a constant rolling boil. “The fuck is wrong with you? That’s a person you’re talking about! A human being! What kind of fucking headcase are you?!”

“I’m the only one who really knows what is happening to Archemi. But as I thought, you have no knowledge and no interest in knowing, so you’re stalling for time.” The big man cocked his right hand near the pommel of the broadsword sheathed on his hip. “You know why I’m here.”

“Sure I do,” I said. “Prices are as follows: handjob only, fifty bucks. If you want me to slap you in the face and call you a bitch while I do it, that’s an extra twenty.”

The curious light drained from Ororgael’s eyes, leaving them flat and hard.

“Sorry about the surcharge. I have sensitive hands,” I continued. “Either way, you gotta provide the lotion and take me to dinner at least once. No McDonalds shit, either. I mean Whataburger or something.”

“You really think you’re funny.” He grimaced to one side. “I know where she is, you know. The Queen. The Admin Panel shows her co-ordinates and everything else about her.”

He's lying. An inner voice - hard, dark, quiet - whispered from deep inside me. He doesn’t know her name. He didn’t know she could teleport.

“Yeah, uh-huh. It’s not like there was a global system message announcing that I was the new Voivode of Myszno or anything.” I was still partly thinking about burgers, which weirdly helped with the fear churning deep in my chest. “Not to mention, I've got it on good authority you don’t have access to the Admin Panel.”

Ororgael’s eyes darted from side to side, as if looking at something. “Mmm… let’s see here. Dragozin Hector, Level 25 ‘Dark Dragoon’, whatever that is... 4231 EXP to next level, only 69 Strength?”

An icy chill seized my guts like a cold hand.

“The hell is this S.C? TypeNew…?” The big man’s brow furrowed. “Your Seed Code makes no sense. But I guess that answers some questions I had.”

Somehow, this motherfucker could see my character stats. He could see my fucking sheet. I swallowed down the fear – for Karalti’s sake. I wasn’t sure where she was, but I knew she was smart enough to go somewhere she wouldn’t be found. “Wow, super. I guess you know everything. Maybe you should ask your magic eight-ball how I kicked your ass in Cham Garai, then Taltos, then Myszno.”

“Easy.” Ororgael drew his sword. The weapon he pulled from the sheath was not a steel blade: it was made of glass, and as soon as it was free, the blade burst into incandescent white flames with a shock of power that nearly forced me back a step. “The Drachan are my biggest priority. You progressed because I let you.”

The energy from the sword felt like it was singing my eyebrows from ten feet away. I shifted into a low, wide stance, the Spear of Nine Spheres held at a low angle. “That’s one of the Top Ten Things a Loser with No Admin Panel would say.”

He let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Park, it’s over. You found the Warsinger, I found you, and now progress against the Drachan can be made. I can either take what I want from this machine, or you can hand it over. But don’t think you can fight me and win.”

“That’s your first mistake: assuming I think.” I crooked a couple of fingers at him. “Bring it.”

“Have it your way.” Baldr lunged at me almost faster than I could follow.

I desperately parried the blazing flurry of blows, startled to find that I could actually keep up. Every blow was powerful enough that, block or no block, I took about ten damage with each hit. Breathlessly, I dove out of the way of his next slash and ducked as he teleported above me and flew down. I saw the hit coming, and blew apart into a cloud of shadows just as the blade struck the spot I'd been standing. The glass sword missed me, but cleaved a new blazing scar into Withering Rose's armor. When I whirled back around to face him, Baldr looked as surprised as I felt. Neither of us had expected me to last long enough to trade blows.

I laughed, a harsh whiskey bark. “Okay, Baldo. Tell me one thing: if you've got access to the Admin Panel, why don't you just fucking delete me and these Drachan mobs be done with it?”

“To my great regret, you can't delete people from inside the sandbox anymore,” he rumbled, lips twitching back in a sneer. “The system doesn't allow it.”

I threw my arms open. “Then spawn one of those player-killer swords! Oh wait - you can't.”

“Those won’t kill you, because you’re not a player.” Ororgael’s voice seemed to blur for a moment, as if two people were speaking at the same time. “You’re a virus.”

“I’m a virus?” I fell back into stance. “My dude, you’ve got a serious case of projection going on here.”

Baldr closed in again, stone-faced. I was faster, driving the blade of the spear at his exposed face, then switching to thrust it toward his armpit. The weapon clashed off the flaming crystal blade with an impact that made my fingers vibrate. I spun the spear around, bringing the heavy butt up like a mace. The blow crashed into his jaw, nearly knocking the fancy eagle helmet off his head. He staggered back a step, eyes wide with disbelief.

I gave chase. The spear whirled in my hands, a blur of bluesteel and black fire as I activated Blood Sprint and rushed him with a series of blows too fast for the eye to follow. He blocked the first four strikes flawlessly, but slipped up on the fifth. The point broke through his guard, screeched along his breastplate, then pierced the chain protecting his underarms. I followed through, ripping the links and the flesh beneath. Blood spattered, and he gasped in pain: just before his face turned red and he made a sharp gesture with his other hand.

Something invisible struck me from the side, sending me tumbling and skidding over the Warsinger’s back. I tucked my head and shoulder in and rolled out of it, barely leaping away from the swipes of Ororgael’s sword. I teleported behind him, but he was ready for me, bringing his weapon around in a slash that forced me off balance. I carried the wobble into a controlled jump, but as I soared through the air, his eyes and mouth flew open and a boiling bolt of raw force exploded from his face in a roaring inferno of light. My eyes widened, but even with the time dilation I gained from Leap of Faith, there was no escaping the blast. It blew my helmet off, peeling me with heat so intense I felt like my body was melting. I threw my hands up, watching in horror as the leather stripped away and my own bones flashed into view through my palms.

[You take 1100…]

[…]

[…You are immune...]

[HP: 578/1678]

I crashed onto Withering Rose’s back like a falling star, crying out as my bare skin sizzled on the searing hot metal surface. The blast had destroyed my armor, instantly rusting the metal and turning the leather into a sticky, tarry goo that reeked like week-old corpse. I felt like I was burning up from the inside and the outside at the same time. Worse, I was blind: there was nothing but dazzling light in all directions. I spammed three health-restoring potions and called the Spear to my hand anyway, prepared to fight to the end.

Ororgael didn’t crow his victory. There was only the heavy thump of his boots on metal as he strode toward me. I felt something cut through the air above my head, and reflexively threw up the haft in a two-handed block. The bluesteel shuddered and bowed under the pressure.

“Yes. You are a virus. You’re a mistake, ‘Park’. I know this game better than anyone, and your Character Seed should not exist in this system. That means you were created. But by whom?” Ororgael’s voice had a hollow ring to it now, like it was coming from far away. “Well, I know that too. You’re another face of the sickness that plagues the AI of this system like a cancer. In fact, you ARE that sickness. A personification of it.”

“What… uhhn… the fuck… are you ranting about?” My vision cleared enough that I could see him, leaning his blazing sword into the spitting, crackling haft of the Spear of Nine Spheres.

“First the Drachan fell to squalor, now you. And do you know what that means? It means your filth is corrupting my A.I.” There was a mad, feral energy written into the lines of his face. “Archemi is the only world we have left, and I will notlet you infect it.”

“Dude, you’re so nuts that I could use your shit to bait squirrels.” The Mark of Matir was throbbing with cold fire on the back of my right hand – and as I noticed it, I felt a sudden surge of intuition. I rolled away just as Baldr plunged his sword down. He whiffed, thrusting the super-hot blade into the metal surface of Withering Rose. The aurum turned the weapon in a shower of sparks, and the very edge of it brushed against the bare skin of my arm with hardly enough force to cut paper - but the limb exploded with blood and pain.

[Glancing blow. You take 998 reduced damage.]

[HP: 30/1678.]

The Spear flew from my ruined hand, clattering and spinning over the surface of the Warsinger. Ororgael grinned mirthlessly overhead, and time seemed to slow as he bought the sword back around. In desperation, I stabbed my functional hand toward him, the nails of my fingers distending into long needle points, and jammed them deep into the gash I’d left in his armor. They pierced padding and then flesh, and as blood was drawn up from Ororgael’s heart, I activated Shadow Lance.

Despite its name, Shadow Lance worked with any weapon – including the crazy extending fingernails I’d gained from my failed transformation into a vampire. Ice coiled through my flesh and thrust into Baldr’s body like a three-foot spike of darkness. It burst out through the other side of his abdomen, sending splinters of flash-frozen steel flying through the air.

[You deal a mortal blow. x2 damage.]

[You deal 7527 Darkness damage.]

Ororgael’s mouth opened in a soundless cry before he sagged onto my fist. His eyes lost focus as he slumped, pinning me to the burning metal. I snarled in pain as my back burned, writhing, trying to escape from underneath the huge man’s bulk. But as I struggled, a weird, skin-prickling power flashed over my skin. He reached down and squeezed my wrist in a crushing grip, trapping it inside the grisly wound I’d made.

“It’s time for the cure, Park.” A shimmering, metallic black liquid oozed out of his pores, beading on his skin. It flowed up, over his hand, then up his arm. Wherever it touched, the flesh and skin turned numb. “Don’t worry about your friends, or the queen. Once I rid the world of squalor and bring order back into the system, every one of those idiots will thank me for it.”

Cures? Squalor? What the fuck was he talking about? Panic flashed through me as I realized that I was paralyzed: the liquid had reached my neck and was sliding up under my jaw, heading for my mouth and eyes. I frantically scanned my Inventory for some way to escape - and found one.

I switched the five vials of Bluecrystal Mana vials I’d looted from Jacob Ratzinger into my Quickbar and spammed the lot.

[Warning: Catastrophic mana poisoning.]

[You take 99999 9 9-]

An awful, bitter chemical taste flooded my mouth and nose. Then the world detonated like a nuclear blast, an explosion I heard only for an instant as blinding light swallowed me and Ororgael and blew us both to Hell.

GO TO CH. 2 >