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

  Dale: Ërin?

  Ërin: Yes dear?

  Should I have asked for three to one?

  I’d have suggested five to two.

  Is anything not haggled and wagered on?

  It’s even money right now on Yingtai killing you before the next full moon.

  Shit.

  You don’t want to know about the wagers involving Amy, they’re so—

  Stop!

  Sorry.

  Go away.

  Yes, dear. Good luck and duck!

  He dropped to the ground in time to avoid some sort of flying object that had been aimed at his head. Instead, it nailed Sanjay Patel’s head, who then glared at Dale.

  The locals were restless. Dale grinned.

  “Ow! Shit! Thank you very much,” he said. Sanjay had a curious Indian accent that gave the impression that he was attempting to cover up several different personality traits that embarrassed him.

  “Did someone ask about the tanks?” Smith shouted above the noise.

  “No!” Dale and Sanjay screamed together.

  From the main podium, a horn sounded, announcing the start of round two. The noise in the stadium dropped to a low hum. A monstrous, dragon-slaying demonic beast named Venant stood and outstretched his massive arms. He gave a short speech about his greatness and power, then sat and shouted, “Begin the battle!”

  Dale had once witnessed a dim-witted dwarf complain during one of Venant’s pre-fight speeches. Venant (who some suspected was an attorney from Nebraska) had stopped the action, roasted the dwarf, and then eaten him with butter and salt. It was considered sound advice to patiently tolerate his self-glorification.

  “Just pretend you’re at church or a political rally,” Tom Kapralov had whispered once during an especially windy speech. His girlfriend, Kim Ayanna, had shushed him, afraid that she’d be forced to watch her man get put on a spit and roasted alive.

  “Don’t worry,” Tom had assured her, “nobody’s getting close to this body but you.”

  As the battle began, Dale tagged an enemy with his personal identifier, the double-eyed symbol of a king cobra’s hood. The rest of the platoon also chose enemies to concentrate on as well. Tagging them all ensured that none would slip by unhindered.

  Smith, the best tank in the platoon, took two. He placed his tag, a war hammer, on two adjoining Shalatian Warriors. Sanjay, placed two tags as well, a black jaguar’s paw. His warrior avatar was the race Isca, a jaguar-man that stacked stat points into Dark Mana and Vigor.

  Rounding out the trio, Rikuto Setsu also took double enemies. He placed his symbol, a Japanese hiragana that looked like a drunk number three, above two of the creatures.

  The remaining members of the platoon placed identifying tags. Galina Rasulova used a Russian bear cub. Tom used a bat symbol from an old American comic book he loved as child, Lieutenant Brinkmann used a half-moon, and Sergeant Dyfrig placed a T-Rex skull.

  Kim used a golf ball, a seemingly odd choice until she explained that she had a four handicap in the real world, and a one-under in Rhith Corp’s Pro Golf Series VR-Sports.

  The group had fought together enough in dungeon instances and arena battles that the first few minutes usually passed in a predictable manner. Galina usually died first as she had the tendency overestimate her abilities. Tom, who was overprotective of Kim would usually die next. If not him, Kim would fall looking out for him, then he’d follow.

  Either Dyfrig or Brinkmann would be next.

  Once the platoon dwindled down to the most capable players, Dale, Smith, Sanjay, and Rikuto, it was a toss-up of who would be the last man standing. Neither Amy, Emi, nor Yingtai had been replaced after their quest to assist Princess Talargo had concluded with Yingtai’s betrayal. The two assassins, Amy and Emi, had left the platoon to pursue their passion for politically motivated murder.

  Kim shouted at Dale, “We really need—”

  “What?” Dale ducked as a spear flew over his head and stuck into the wall.

  He looked to Kim, but she couldn’t answer him. A second spear, expertly placed centimeters above her breastplate, was draining her health. She dropped to her knees, muttered something unintelligible while choking on blood, and then died. They were now outnumbered, overpowered, and lacked healers.

  Communication with internal AI happened instantaneously, but Dale often became distracted in these dialogues and questions.

  Dale: We’re short healers, we need to replace—

  Ërin: Stop thinking and fight!

  Dale lifted his shield and stopped an incoming spear.

  Ërin: You’re scheduled to meet three new recruits tomorrow.

  Dale: About time…

  Ërin shouted a message into Dale’s mind: Get your fucking head in the game!

  Dale ducked.

  You’re cursing now?

  My vocabulary is expanding. Now pay attention, stud. If you’re good today I’ll replay your last time with—

  Stop!

  The last thing Dale wanted replayed in his head were scenes with Amy. He had enough trouble not dreaming about her as it was. During his last respawn he had to suffer through the pain and humiliation of his breakup about a dozen times. Each remembrance reminded him that in-game death, while not a permanent state, was still a torturous experience.

  He advanced on the Shalatian Warrior opposing him.

  It threw a spear which Dale deflected with his shield.

  He closed the distance between them.

  The beast switched to a short sword and shield but remained mounted. It circled Dale, taking advantage of its height and speed.

  Dale gambled.

  He tossed his shield at the feet of the Vahansingh mount. The gambit worked: the shield unwound itself into its cobra form and struck the mount with its fangs. The creature reared, threw its rider to the ground, and attacked the cobra. Dale and the Shalatian squared off on foot. Dale retrieved one of his back-up shields from his inventory, a process accomplished with a few thought commands. He brought the defensive equipment, a shield made of dark red dragonling-hide, up to chest level.

  The enemy warrior rushed him in an attempted to strike before he regained a solid defensive stance.

  Dale spun to his left, swung his sword low, and aiming for the beast’s left leg. The bastard sword struck bone.

  The Shalatian screamed, cursed him in a foreign tongue, and then made a desperate lunge. It swung at Dale’s head but the sword went wild. The unbalanced swing allowed Dale to use his shield to push the attacker’s sword further in the same direction it. The momentum caused the beast to spin too far and lose its balance.

  Over the cheers and taunts of the crowd, Dale heard the nauseating snap of leg bone, followed by a sickening scream. Without losing a beat, Dale brought Bryndis down in a swift, smooth arc. In spite of its armored helmet, the blow was sufficient.

  Shalatian Warrior killed.

  +1400XP

  Dropped: One Carat Yellow Sapphire, Good Quality

  Congratulations! You’ve reached level 16!

  Unlocked: The following items have—

  Ërin, get that pop-up out of my face!

  Sorry, boss.

  The dead Shalatian’s mount, with Dale’s cobra shield hanging from its mouth, jumped with its claws extended. While in mid-air, the creature shook its head, flinging Dale’s favorite defense equipment to the ground. It exposed a mouth full of teeth, with incisors nearly as long as Dale’s forearm. Images of his bloody shredded body flashed through his mind. He brought his left arm up, and hoped his secondary shield would stop the incoming set of teeth.

  The force of impact drove Dale backward, forcing him onto his back. Lying in the sand, with several claws now puncturing his shield, he looked directly into the face of the lion-like mount. Snapping fangs appeared mere centimeters from his face and it became apparent that the creature’s strength coupled with its massive weight would be too much for him to resist.

  It took both of his arms to hold the shield, the o
nly barrier between him and the razor-sharp teeth that were attempting to bite his face off. His right hand still held his sword, but he was unable to swing it. His only option meant letting it go for the moment and using his forearm to support the attacker’s bulk.

  Quickly, while using most of his strength against the creature, he used his free hand and sent a healing Water Magic enchantment towards his cobra shield, hoping for the best.

  Water Magic Skills Increased: Clueless Level Achieved

  As you grow in this skill you might actually be able to heal a friend. Even the master was once a novice.

  Hint: Water Magic Books are usually dropped by creatures, mobs, and bosses who live in or near water. But you guessed that, already, didn’t you?

  The enchantment worked. The cobra revived and slithered towards the enemy battle mount.

  Dale concentrated on the revived battle pet, not an easy feat when a thick string of drool hung from the mouth of a beast that was determined to eat him. But, he managed to will the cobra into striking at the mount’s rear, under its tail, hoping the snake would find the anatomically correct creature’s weak spot.

  It did. The beast roared in pain.

  Dirty Fighting Skills Increased: Inept Level Achieved

  As you grow in this skill you’ll probably make more enemies than friends.

  Hint: All’s fair in love and war. Don’t hold back, Tiger!

  The Vahansingh Battle Mount turned its head away from Dale.

  He retrieved his assassin’s rapier and drove the blade into the creature’s throat and, by leveraging his body against the sand and pushing, the sharp needle-like weapon went up through the brain and broke through its skull cap. It crumpled and died.

  +1200XP

  Vahansingh killed.

  Dropped: Lion’s Mane Coat, Masterful Quality, +10 Stat Points to Strength

  Dale stood and brushed sticky red sand from his armor. He retrieved his cobra, which formed back into its shield form, and kept it in his left hand. He stored his rapier and picked his bastard sword up off the ground.

  Surveying the arena, Dale noted that Brinkmann, Rikuto, and Galina had all perished. Sergeant Dyfrig, the lizard-hermaphrodite warrior, was dangerously low on health and ferociously defending itself against a dismounted Shalatian. The enemy used a long spear and shield combination to attack the sergeant with a jab-retreat-jab-retreat attack. Dale ran towards the fight, approaching from the rear. As the enemy stepped backward, away from the lizard’s attack, Dale decapitated it. Blood flew from its severed neck, painting Dale’s face with a sticky mess. At the same moment, as the dying, headless enemy spun wildly, it blindly flung its spear.

  “Look out!” Dale shouted towards Sanjay, who couldn’t hear him over the bloodlust of the crowd. The spear, flying in a high arc, struck Sanjay in the back.

  Dale stored his sword and warmed up a healing enchantment.

  “You fucker!” Sanjay shouted. “That’s twice today.”

  “I’m going to heal you!” Dale yelled. “Give me a moment, it’s not my best skill.”

  Most in-game avatar races allowed versatility, and that was certainly the case with Dale’s chosen race, the Zuharah. Having a wizard avatar allowed for many options, but like in all endeavors, it was difficult to be proficient in everything. He released a Water Magic Enchantment that, at the very least, gave Sanjay a little more time to fight.

  “Awwww, shit,” Dale said as he turned back towards Dyfrig. He’d successfully helped Sanjay, but at the cost of ignoring Dyfrig, who perished next.

  I really do need to work on growing some better healing skills…

  Strategize later, stud. Duck!

  A battle-axe, rotating end-over-end, flew above Dale’s head. He ducked and the weapon implanted into the coliseum wall behind him. This was followed by a flurry of mugs, razordillo bones, and the corpse of a small elf, all descending from the spectator stands aimed at him. The crowd was sending a clear message that it would not tolerate a defensive strategy.

  The crowd booed.

  “Stop healing and fight like wizard!”

  “This isn’t a dungeon quest!”

  “What are you going to do next? Hide in the corner and throw zombie bombs?”

  “Wrong MMO, asshole,” Dale snapped while ducking a second axe which hit the wall behind him with a loud crack.

  “Quit ducking like a coward!” a fat noble shouted while shaking his fists. His jeering and protestations ended abruptly when a couple of drunk Sigs (the in-game dwarf servants) pushed him over the edge and he landed in the sand on his back. The surprised nobleman attempted to stand but a spear struck him in the gut.

  The drunken Sigs, joined by the crowd, shouted and jeered.

  “Quit bleeding like a coward!”

  “Get up and fight like a dwarf!”

  “Or at least an elf!”

  “You fat fucking hypocrite, fight!”

  The whole crowd joined in and the mocking insults continued as the fat man struggled to his feet. As the jeers became louder and more vile, the battle between the platoon and the Shalatian Warriors came to a momentary lull.

  “Bloody cunt!”

  “Sister raper!”

  “Sandwich stealer!”

  “Damn,” Galina said into Dale’s ear in an attempt to speak over the noise of the crowd, “is today bring a twelve-year-old-for-half-price day?”

  “Apparently...,” he answered. “I’m always curious if the biggest idiots are really trolls, I mean like troll-trolls, or if they’re actually NPCs.”

  “What’s a troll-troll?” she asked.

  “I mean, like an internet troll -oh Jesus! Duck!”

  A half-filled mug of something disgusting flew over their heads.

  The nobleman, meanwhile, tried in vain to pull the spear out of his body.

  Dale almost forgot he was in the middle of a battle. The man finally stood, but tripped, fell on the spear, and died. The weapon pierced his back, forced through his body by his fall, and the man took on the appearance of an hors d'oeuvre with a toothpick stuck in it.

  “We’d better—” Dale’s words were cut off by an attack from behind.

  They fought back together, but unfortunately, Galina took a spear to the side and an axe to the head. She became the next death in the platoon, but she had the presence of mind to fire an imbued arrow at her opponent as she fell over, wounding it so badly that it only took one downward slice from Dale’s sword to finish the creature.

  +1500XP

  Shalatian killed.

  Dropped: Iron Ring +5 Serendipity when worn

  Dale surveyed the battleground while sliding on the Iron Ring. Of all the members of his platoon, he still had the lowest Serendipity, but five Stat Points were still five Stat Points. He felt grateful that it wasn’t yet another shitty diamond or ruby.

  Besides himself, Smith, and Sanjay, there were three remaining combatants in the arena.

  None of the Shalatians had a mount left, so the remainder of the battle would be fought three on three, all of them on foot. Of course, this assumption was predicated on the hope that the Master of Ceremonies didn’t decide to alter the battle rules for his own amusement....or increased profits, which was just as likely.

  A horn blew.

  “Halt!” Venant shouted. “Most excellent! The stench of death fills my nostrils with memories of glorious and victorious exploits over my vanquished foes! The odds, I suspect, have changed. This pathetic scrawny wizard is more clever than he looks, although I’m still placing my gold on his eminent demise. The bloodletting begins again in five minutes, place your bets, you devils!”

  “We should feast,” Dale said.

  “I concur,” Smith said while bringing out a table from his inventory.

  “Hey, that’s a nice table, Smith,” Sanjay said. “Ikea?”

  “Huh?”

  “Is that table from Ikea?”

  “Are you fucking serious?” Smith’s jaw hung open. He changed from his Sagittalian avatar
into his humant avatar. Tall, muscular, and fit, Smith was an opposing figure in the real world, and like all in-game humant avatars, his personal look was very similar to how he looked on the street back home in Richmond.

  “What?” Sanjay asked after changing into his humant avatar. “I was just asking a simple question.” He smiled awkwardly and looked to Dale for help.

  “He just means that asking things like that makes you seem...sort of...not exactly...I mean, why would you ask...” Dale struggled to finish his sentence, then bit his lip.

  “Nobody gives a shit about a table, Sanjay,” Smith said. “Now get out some food to share. And no fucking curry. I hate that shit.”

  “You’re such a racist,” Dale said.

  “Yeah, white boy,” Smith said in a low tone, “stuff it or I’ll make you eat some country scrapple.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I’m just fucking with you, Sanjay,” Smith said as he brought out a rack of Razordillo ribs and placed them on the table. “You can talk about Ikea and furniture shopping all you want. It’s all good, brother.”

  They tore into the ribs, barbecue sauce dripping down their chins, and then ate freshly baked Almaach bread with sweet butter (said by some to be the greatest thing Rhith Corp ever programmed).

  Well, some said it was the second greatest thing.

  “You still reading erotica novels?” Dale asked his best friend while shoving juicy blackberries into his mouth, the sticky sugary substance slipping seductively, slowly, and silently southward.

  “You still into alliteration?”

  “Touché.”

  A Sihir appeared in front of the trio as they feasted. The blue bookie boisterously bragged of brilliant bets best bought before battling with your bestie.

  “Wagers, my friends?” he asked.