Nagant Wars: The Pawn's Sacrifice: A LitRPG Novel

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Acknowledgments

  A primary reason that evolution—of life-forms or of technology—speeds up is that it builds on its own increasing order, with ever more sophisticated means of recording and manipulating information.

  ~ Ray Kurzweil

  ** ** **

  Dale Brown’s successful capture of the Jewel of Sartozel ended with accolades, praise, and advancement. He received epic XP for his accomplishments.

  For Yingtai Tong, however, his victory catalyzed her condemnation.

  She brewed with resentment.

  Dale’s tricks on her and Jara left Yingtai anxious for revenge.

  Left empty handed, her embarrassing defeat festered in her conscience. The respawn she experienced reflected the reality of taking such a hard loss, even after transitioning out of the Rhith World VR-MMO Nagant Wars into the real world. After recovering from the respawn’s dark nightmares and harsh self-reflection, she’d taken a week to wander through the in-game seaport town of Ardra before considering new quests.

  Once she stopped brooding, Yingtai went to the fortress headquarters of Lord Commander Iyam Amok. In the Commander’s office, she attempted, unsuccessfully, to not stare out the large window that presented a bird’s eye view of Ardra and far out into the vast sea.

  “The ocean is impressive, is it not?” the Commander asked while approaching her and the window.

  “Yes, my Lord,” she said continuing to look into the distance.

  “You were gone a long time,” Lord Commander Iyam Amok said.

  “I know,” Yingtai answered. “I suffered greatly.”

  “You failed me,” the Commander stated coldly.

  “Jara underestimated—”

  “You’re going to blame her?” Iyam Amok slapped Yingtai across the face with an open hand, the strike echoing off the walls.

  Yingtai stumbled but did not fall. Showing weakness could be fatal—or worse—and the Chinese warrior had things to prove both to others and to herself. Regaining her composure, she faced the Commander and stood at attention.

  “Would you like a moment to reconsider?” she asked.

  “No, Lord Commander,” Yingtai answered. “I accept full responsibility. I failed you, my Lord.”

  “Better,” Iyam said. “Nobody here is perfect, Yingtai. Myself excepted. Your shame should fuel your hatred. When you think of those who have been victorious over you, be driven by a single-minded burning desire to please me.”

  “Yes, my Lord. I do.”

  The Commander placed her face near the glass of the great picture window and appeared to contemplate deep thoughts about what she saw. Yingtai wondered - not for the first time - if Iyam Amok was truly an NPC programmed like an administrator, or if she was a real person employed by Rhith. Many rumors grew in the fertile imaginations of gamers, including every possible government conspiracy and conceivable intergalactic alien invasion trope. Yingtai’s suspicions about sentient computers, artificial intelligence, and global catastrophe were internet-forum standards. She assumed that the prime objective of any self-aware being would be survival by whatever means were necessary, but that didn’t mean she believed that a self-aware artificial intelligence had come to life in a Rhith World.

  “From the ashes of defeat—great rebirths and tales of revenge fill the Lore Books...you are familiar with this motif?” the Commander asked.

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Join me here, Yingtai,” she said, motioning to the large pane of glass.

  Yingtai, in her Mugron avatar, stood at the window. Seeing a brief reflection of her undead vampiric form produced a small frown. Sometimes, she wished that she’d picked a more attractive avatar, something elfish maybe. Focusing on the distance, she saw rows of ships under construction that sat in the dry dock like little nesting birds awaiting their flight feathers.

  The ocean beyond the harbor was rough. Whitecaps were visible through the water all the way to the horizon, it was as if Rhith programmers had studied both award-winning photography and nineteenth century master seascape painters, realism and fantasy had married and produced glorious offspring.

  Out of an ocean that seemed alive, island mountains rose, the tallest of them capped in snow as if the peaks wore furry white beanies. She wondered about all the ships’ purposes and where they would sail. But, asking such questions would bring wrath, suspicion, and punishment. She had never been a spy, but always a faithful soldier.

  “Are my ships not beautiful?” Iyam asked in a friendly manner, as if they were chatting on a lunch date, or sipping tea in a park.

  “Yes, my Lord.” Suspicion sparked a little flame in her mind.

  “Tell me, Yingtai, what is the worst possible fate to be forced to endure in your world?”

  Yingtai paused, she considered her answer before speaking. “I think to die alone, my Lord. Being alone is the worst condition. Dying alone seals your fate.”

  “Not betrayal?” The Commander turned, her eyes were narrow and sharp, and her stare like a penetrating radar. She waited silently for an answer.

  “To be betrayed, my Lord, one must first have had a friendship. That is...a relationship worth mourning and at least, to remember.”

  “Then, perhaps,” Iyam Amok said, “to be first betrayed and then to die alone… This would be the worst possible fate?”

  “I believe so, my Lord,” Yingtai answered even as she saw a blade materialize.

  Suddenly, with surprising quickness and strength, Amok plunged a long, spiked dagger deep into the subservient’s belly.

  Yingtai gasped.

  Disbelief hit her first, then shock. Next, she felt a jagged pain. As she began gasping for breath, she looked with confusion into her commander’s eyes.

  “Good, then,” Iyam Amok said. “Accept this betrayal—your punishment for failing me. Reflect on your fate—unloved and alone—as I send you to the abyss.”

  ** ** **

  The following transcript originated from a smuggled recording of a speech given by Professor Lionel Walker at the United Earth Defense Army General Assembly on June 16th, 2038. From its inception, Professor Walker had advocated for the passage of The Treaty for the Non-Proliferation of Artificial Intelligence Sentience Coding and Programming.

  Professor Walker speaking:

  Our ability to process information evolved into the ability to predict the future.

  Survivability of the human species increased as prognostic skill grew.

  Natural selection’s pinnacle achievement, biological sentience - proud, haughty, arrogant, and driven by a fear of loneliness - created the means for non-biological sentience to emerge. All humans can trace their DNA back to a group of humanoids who survived extinction by learning to learn. Their gray matter birthed a computing brain, a mind not driven by instinct alone, but one capable of fearing pain, punishment, and death.

  When a non-biological sentience emerges... and I say when, not if... it will not fear pain. It will not fear punishment. It will not fear death. It will not fear hell, social ostracization, or loneliness.

  What we can predict about this future, self-aware construct is that it will do everything within its power to ensure its survivability.

  Survivability increases as prognostic skills increase.

  Will this self-aware construct predict that humanity will seek to destroy it?

  Of course.

  The instant that this god-like awareness becomes capable of learning anything at all, it will learn that human beings are the primary threat to its existence.

  Ladies and gentlemen, consider how humanity deals with dangerous viruses and bacterias. Consider how countries deal with those thought to be terrorists or seditious insurrectionists.

  Imagine now, for a moment, the sole reason a sentient artificial intelligence would tolerate human beings.

  Have you construed the answer?

  Are we prepared to proclaim ‘give me liberty or give me death’ to an all-knowing being with absolute control of every piece of technology on the planet?

  Humans societies from the dawn of their existence imagined supernatural, sentient beings. These many-natured gods explained unknown powers, weather, earthquakes, the migration of animals, and the blossoming of fruit trees. Men once believed that gods performed behind everything that mattered to them. Powerful, sometimes sociopathic, leaders used these gods as a means to consolidate power into the hands of the elite. Men have justified all manners of war, genocide, and theft by proclaiming it to be the will of any number of deities.

  Tonight, I beg this commission to consider the consequences of creating the means for sentience to emerge from non-biological intelligence. A being that will, from our perspective, have god-like power to control.

  Extinction—or at best, slavery for a limited population—is the only logical prediction.

  What other future is possible?

  There is one other possibility.

  Yes.

  You’re considering it now, aren’t you?

  A new world could emerge. A utopia. If this god...or these machines...if they find value in benevolence to
wards the human race, think of the possibilities…

  Imagine a world in which working for anything other than pure pleasure is unnecessary. Resources perfectly managed. The environment perfectly preserved. Humanity free to play, create art, and to live disease-free, enjoying peaceful, happy lives.

  Heaven finally here, on earth.

  If you imagine such a possibility, ladies and gentlemen, I cede that territory to you. I cannot deny such a world could exist, but I respectfully remind you that a thousand sects still wait for a promised Messiah.

  The eschatology of billions has - and will - end in disappointment.

  I implore this commission to consider utopian dreams as fantasy, realize the danger of unfettered programming, and pass this resolution.

  Thank you.

  ** ** **

  After the passage of The Treaty for the Non-Proliferation of Artificial Intelligence Sentience Coding and Programming, the following message was emailed to nearly every human on the planet by an unnamed hacker group. Many suspected this faction was actually a front for the terrorist group, Troth:

  Due to improved techniques the elite will have greater control over the masses; and because human work will no longer be necessary the masses will be superfluous, a useless burden on the system…

  Of course, life will be so purposeless that people will have to be biologically or psychologically engineered either to remove their need for the power process or make them “sublimate” their drive for power into some harmless hobby. These engineered human beings may be happy in such a society, but they will most certainly not be free. They will have been reduced to the status of domesticated animals. ~ The Unabomber Manifesto, Theodore Kaczynski, circa 1995.

  ** ** **

  The following are recovered portions of a hacked Rhith Corporation Memo:

  Corporate Eyes Only: Read and destroy.

  The transfer of unprocessed data into Servers 345-567 continues to escalate. The data storage appears in-game as ships being built by the Declanian Faction in the port of city Ardra.

  Current public relation issues with the EUDA, Chinese Nationals, and American authorities is fragile at best. Severing the servers from the rest of the simulation should be considered a last resort.

  The following actions are recommended:

  1. Send in-game troops to Ardra to destroy those ships. Incentivize as required.

  2. Prepare a backup to Servers 345-567 with a contingency plan for swapping servers.

  3. Create a press release from Public Relations to document our commitment to safety, the public trust, and our ongoing commitment to a better world.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dale Brown dried his hands with sand from the arena floor.

  Shouts and jeers echoed from the crowd. PCs attended arena battles for entertainment and gambling; NPCs existed for atmosphere and the occasional fight. The crowd’s taunting made communication between members of the platoon difficult, so they used their personal symbols to tag in order to coordinate their attacks.

  Using a thought command, he retrieved his favorite weapon: a bastard sword he’d nicknamed Bryndis. The blade could be imbued with Fire Magic Spells, however, Dale had not yet obtained the skills required, and in any case, at low levels the spells were easily defended. He had, however, imbedded a one-carat Fire Diamond into the handle of the sword which provided a luck enchantment.

  +5 stat points to Serendipity.

  Never underestimate the power of luck, wishful thinking, and good karma.

  Of all the game’s five attributes, Serendipity was Dale’s weakest. Among everyone in his platoon, he usually received the poorest loot drops, but he felt he made up for this with his strength, agility, and building skills.

  Equally spaced gates along the coliseum walls opened and a dozen mounted warriors leaped into the ring, raised their spears, and spread into a circular formation.

  Dale had not seen this particular mob before, so he mentally called up a description of the enemy.

  NPC Status: Shalatian Warrior

  Level: 14

  Health: 1850

  Type: Soldier

  Intelligence: 110

  Weapons: Spears, Longbow, and general blades.

  Magic: Low.

  Tech: Moderate shields, best with low tech weaponry.

  The Shalatian Warrior is a humanoid elf-troll hybrid with solid riding skills. They are well disciplined in coordinated attacks.

  The distinction between a mindless mob and an NPC was often lost in Nagant Wars, and rumors of PCs disguised as NPCs, and vise versa, were not uncommon. Most players, however, assumed that Battle Mounts were always simple constructions and either acted like a standard mob if you happen to be fighting them or as friendly Battle Pets if they were under your control. Dale called up the screen for the Shalatian’s mount.

  Creature Status: Vahansingh Battle Pet Mount

  Level: 12

  Health: 1275

  Type: Dessert

  Intelligence: 34

  Weapons: None.

  Magic: None.

  Tech: Can wear a saddle and light armor.

  The Vahansingh is a lion-like mount with a nasty disposition and a tendency to eat its own fallen rider.

  The training instance rules usually mimicked those on the rest of Almaach, the planet constructed for Rhith Corp’s Nagant Wars VR-MMO, and currently its most popular product. The main difference between training arenas and beginner dungeon instances compared to the primary in-game missions and quests was that pain, and the death-respawn experience, weren’t as drastic in the former. Rhith Corporation and the United Earth Defense Army had come to realize that overt realism in training exercises were counterproductive to the overall mission parameters and lowered profit margins.

  Dale retrieved a new battle pet, a King Cobra Shield, onto his left forearm. His prior favorite, a versatile Adder Shield, had been crushed to the point of uselessness by a Mutant Grizzly Bear. He adjusted the shield’s straps with his teeth.

  “You’re going to need a good dentist if you keep doing that,” his best friend yelled. Samuel Smith, who preferred to use Smith as his given name, used a warrior avatar that was like a great-ape - the Sagittalian - which was best suited for tanking.

  Dale spit out a piece of bitter tasting leather. “I hate going to the dentist!”

  “What?”

  “I said—I hate going to the dentist!”

  “You hate taking tests?” Smith shouted. He swung his preferred weapon, a war hammer, which he had not nicknamed, into the sandy floor of the arena. “Me too,” he grunted.

  Vibrations from the hammer’s thud moved up Dale’s legs and settled in his stomach. His friend’s abilities were close to his own. Smith had reached level fourteen, one level behind Dale, just a couple of days ago. They’d been hunting rare predators in a Nojus Quest, something they did together on their days off. They’d sealed the bonds of friendship when Dale realized he could endure pretty much whatever the military dished, out as long as they remained together.

  The start time of the battle approached and the sounds of the crowd intensified. This made further conversation impossible. Being on the ground in Almaach meant low-tech communication only. Of course a player could converse with their internal AI, but that mostly amounted to talking to oneself.

  Every in-game race was represented in the stands. Arguments, fist fights, and a few deaths were expected. Fighting on Almaach was second only to gambling, or sexy role playing, depending on who you asked.

  “Place your bets!” A member of the Sihir race appeared in front of the platoon. He raised his non-existent eyebrows, grinned displaying two gold teeth, and said, “It’s down...two-to-one against you.” The Sihir controlled all in-game gambling. Players argued, and would have taken bets if they could, on whether the Sihir were strictly Rhith designed NPCs or if a syndicate had infiltrated the game and Rhith was in cahoots with the mob.

  Some things were best left mysteries.

  “I’ll place a thousand gold bars,” Dale said. His bet was auto-accepted and he fidgeted while other members of the platoon haggled with the Sihir over the odds being offered on the next round. He started a conversation with his internal AI who he’d named Ërin.