My first thought wasn’t, What the hell is going on? nor was it, Where am I? not even, Why is this woman still chained up to me? it was-OW! Christ that hurt, that hurt...I...I can feel pain?
Sprawled out on my back as my eyes were fixated towards the sky, the smell of flowers overpowered my nose and grass brushed against me on all sides as the wind blew.
This...this didn’t make any sense. Virtual Reality Dive games didn’t feel...this convincing. Disclaimers had to be prompted in large and bold text if anything but your sense of sight was altered with. War Scroll was only a vision and auditory dive game, but...I can taste the summer dew from the grass.
My eyes stared into the sky with bitter resentment, this situation was unclear. It didn’t faze me until I noticed a trademark of this reality.
Is that Leviathan?
The faint image of a large snake was stretched to both parts of the sky from as far as my eyes could see. It was like a mountain in the distance, faint details but clear shape. If you listened carefully enough you could hear the goliath groan carry through the wind.
I tried to move but my body was in clear pain, all I could manage at the moment was to turn my head to the side and what I saw sent a shiver from my head to my toes. My nameless servant in what looked to be her twenties was staring into my eyes, she was filled with pain and grief. Her lip trembled as she coughed up small portions of blood. Her hair was brown as dirt and her nose dotted with freckles was slightly bruised. I gazed down her body, seeing a tattered shirt and her leg, oh god her leg. It was bent in a different direction with a pool of blood. She shook violently from that very pain as she moved her plump lips without sound. “Help me.”
I shook myself from this illusion. NPCs in the game didn’t have any recorded dialogue aside from the main quest. The game couldn’t contain that much information with this new age technology without lagging. This had to be a misconception, she’s not real...she’s not real.
Was she?
I whisper to her, gently, “Say something, speak.”
“Help.”
She spoke, I think I heard her, I had to...or did I? Was it a figment of my imagination or possibly an auditory hallucination.
I ordered her to clear my suspicions, “Speak if you want to live!”
“Help. ME.” blood spat more viciously as the woman demanded her voice to work.
“Oh, God,” I mumbled to myself, she was real, she was real and dying.
The chain between us rattled as I attempted to kneel up, but my body was disoriented. I only managed to keep my knees on the ground as my torso rose, but it would go no further. The pain I felt was nothing compared to hers, it was like comparing a common cold to cancer. I had no excuse to submit to my physical pains, no bones are broken in my body as far as I can tell.
Okay, is this a game or reality?! Which one is it? Leviathan is sky-high, so this has to be a game, but if this was a game, how did an NPC have a voice? And more importantly, I can feel pain.
I tried opening up the command console to conjure spells but nothing would arise. All I could see was that my level has drastically changed, from 100 down to 1 from the upper right corner of my peripheral vision.
“A game…game-game-game,” my mouth was stuck on the word but my mind wanted to contradict the facts.
Fine, if I can’t open the console then I’ll use my spells to heal her through an oral command, the game can do that.
Healing Curse:
Witch’s Breath
…
Nothing happened...Oh right, level 1. Which spells did I have for healing then?... Come on...think-think-think. That’s right, Evil Cleric can only try to appease their god at such a low level through a...sacrifice.
Sacrifices can vary from animals to humans but neither were available at the moment. Additional abilities weren’t available until an Evil Cleric would contact a malevolent deity to form a pact, only by leveling up afterward would a variety of abilities come into play.
I attempted to stand up but was only brought down by the chain that connected up together, I looked closer and remembered where it connected to. It wasn’t loose in my hand, it was connected to a metal shackle on my wrist to prevent players from taking my sacrificial slaves away.
She was dead weight, there was no way she could move on her own, let alone a way for me to carry her. I tried to undo the shackle but it was cursed to prevent warriors from breaking the chain or mages from undoing the shackle through magic.
What else can an Evil Cleric do? There was one more method wasn’t there? But I never used any other than human sacrifices…Oh no. There was one way to save her, but it wasn’t pretty. There were emergency sacrifices that held more value to evil deities in the game than even human sacrifices. It even overruled cool-down times from healing curses to a bestial summon.
Can I bring myself to do it?... What the hell am I talking about when a life is on the line here!
I took a few deep breaths before my shaky hand grabbed a metal object from underneath my suit, unsheathed it felt as if a devilishly cold chill consume my entire body. The ceremonial dagger was serrated from the hilt up till the midsection.
I bit the silk glove on my left hand and slid it off. Placing the jagged edge against the base of my pinky finger, breathing with a slow and rhythmic pace. Body disfigurement appeased evil gods when done on oneself as a devout follower, but I’ve never tried it before because it leaves permanent debuffs on a character. I’m unsure whether this will work or not, I’ve only read this from backstory pop-up windows gained from leveling up. Usually, an arm or a leg could summon a high tier monster or heal an entire army but...Evil Clerics don’t heal others without some sort of sacrifice, their role was to make monsters, not save them. My breathing became more and more difficult and the world began to swirl around my pinky finger.
One more second, I just need one more second to steel myself
“Come on, you can do this,” I repeated to myself over and over again.
Stop being a chicken-shit, you can’t let an innocent person die in front of your eyes.
Glancing back to the girl, she held eyes of disbelief on what I might do. Never did she think an evil man like me might ever consider going to such lengths to help such a pitiful human like herself. I killed the other servant without a second thought to gain an advantage in battle, she had to see me as a merciless monster.
Those eyes, those damn puppy dog eyes. Alright, on the count of three. Beads of sweat went down my forehead as I braced myself. One. Gripping the handle of the blade so hard that my hand began to violently shake. Two. I squinted my eyes till it hurt. Three. My eyes shot open from the pain, as I quickly pulled the saw-like teeth to chew my skin. Then thrust forward to chip through the bone, finally pulling it to cut the remaining flesh off. The virgin blades of grass were splattered with crimson, as a hunk of meat dropped to the soil that consumed my fluids.
“AAAAAAHHHHHHH! FUCK!” I was hyperventilating as the blade dropped from my hand, quickly I applied as much pressure as possible on my stubbed finger.
MY FINGER, MY FINGER, OH GOD, MY FINGER. CHRIST, WHY DOES THIS HURT SO MUCH, WHY?-The spell!!! Right, the spell, what was it?! Umm, think, damn it, think!
Healing Curse:
Witch’s Breath
Nothing happened.
“Are you serious?” it was a pinky finger for god’s sake! How is that not worth enough for a measly curse!
Healing Curse:
Vultures of Tartarus
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
This time, motes of black suspended in the air formed into two vultures. The heads had golden gleams acting as their eyes as they swarmed around her leg, violently peckings her leg back into place. She winced in pain, biting her cherry lip as the broken leg moved against her will, but slowly her face regained its composure as the leg healed albeit a few spots of purple bruising remained. After the job was done, the vultures flew away into the woods without disappearing.
Healing curses were a double-edged sword as they offered low costs for high-level healing and buffs, but there was usually a consequence that varied from spontaneous death, bad luck, permanent debuffs, the list goes on.
What made me worry was my memory, I’ve only used this spell once since it had such a serious consequence, the big problem was that I couldn't remember what it was.
“Th-thank you,” she stared at me with a long silence, until she remembered something important.
She immediately tried to move her leg underneath herself as she genuflected with her bad leg as the support.
Then, she rephrased her initial gratitude, “Your humble dis-disciple gives her eternal gratitude, no words can describe your kindness other than a blessing, if there is anything needed of me, I am at your di...sposal.”
Her jitters only intensified when she saw the loose pinky finger on the ground. Her long brown hair covered whatever expression she had.
Karma:
Saving a Stranger
+1
Neutral +1
A sudden illness phased through my body like a phantom, unlike the pain from the amputation, this made my entire body weak. It must be the shock from blood loss, I need to-huh?
I couldn’t take my eyes away from my stub finger, a black substance covered the injury preventing any more blood loss. Taking a closer examination at the finger on the ground, it too had the same substance on the wound. I picked it up and attempted to reattach the finger in good hopes that it would just glue back on, but alas, a volatile reaction occurred. An intense shock from touching the two surfaces together made me drop the finger. I grabbed the finger once more for further examination. I deduced that no matter what I do the pinky is no longer mine. I doubt any magic would be able to mend it back onto my hand, it belongs to my goddess now.
The girl was wincing in pain, waiting for permission to be at ease. Sighing in annoyance, I got down on her level and put her arm over my shoulder, raising her to a full stand.
“Sir?” her face was awestruck by the act as if God has personally sent me as her guardian angel.
“Here,” I held my pinky in front of her, “You caused my injury because of your critical condition, keep this and aid me and I will consider us even.”
“But! Th-that's impossible! As a disciple to Your Excellency, mere acts of what's expected of a disciple can’t atone for your disfigurement.” She was oddly more focused on the fact of repayment then holding on to a dismembered finger.
Waving my wounded hand in protest as I corrected her, “I don’t seem to recall accepting you as my disciple, no need to act with such etiquette.”
She blushed slightly before objecting, “How could you say such a thing, I’ve been under your gracious wings since you became a cleric, it is only natural I show you the utmost respect, especially since you’ve mutilated your precious hand for my safety.”
An evangelical follower huh, although how did she come under my service when I became a cleric? I remember overthrowing villages and using the NPCs as cattle for my sacrifices so to speak, wasn’t she just an ordinary villager that spawned, or was she a customized NPC made by a friend of mine?
“Under my wing?” I mirrored her in the form of a question, in hopes she would reveal more to this mystery.
She hopped on one leg at my pace as we wandered into the lush forest filled with papaya and weeping willow trees. Flowers bloomed in all the colors of the rainbow in the thickets. The dense tropical floor was covered in moss, which hid multiple critters such as leaping frogs, slithering anacondas, tree climbing centipedes and scarlet macaws resided on tree branches as their squawks echoed us.
“Under my wing-Squawk-Under, my wing-Squawk-How could you say such a thing-Squawk”
“Yes, it all started when you took care of the marauders who held a tyrannical rule over us,” she gave a soft smile that slowly transitioned into a frown when unpleasant memories long-buried resurfaced. “You...you saved us.”
That’s right, I forgot about that issue. They’re low leveled enemies that spawned around a particularly small village until cleared by a player, they would then respawn after a couple of days. The village itself was lacking any incentive for a player to even be bothered to visit it, all it had was people with common dialogue and there were no special items nor any treasure. The reason why it was valuable to me was that the spawn rate of villages was nearly unmatched by any other township, albeit the citizens lacked anything worthwhile to loot. It became a human farm for me to gather sacrifices for raids or dangerous dungeons expeditions. So I would regularly clear out the marauders to keep the population and spawn rate at its prime.
“Saved us?” please don’t tell me that her memories spanned back to villagers I’ve kidnapped and killed.
“Yes, you spread the word of Her Supremacy, and taught us the glories of Nihtism and chose followers to ascend into Her Supremacy’s divine embrace by guiding them on a pilgrimage,” her eyes twinkled like stars as she got excited
Did...Did I make a cult?
“So,” pausing for a moment to use her name until it came to me, I didn’t care enough before the final battle to even glance at my servants' names. She talks about my character's persona and teachings as if it were the only important thing about life. I can’t bluntly ask for her name, she would be devastated. There has to be a way to beat around the bush.
Hmm. I got it!
“Tell me about your family?” at the very least I could learn her surname.
She giggled a little bit before responding. “Oh, don’t be silly, mommy and daddy went on a pilgrimage with you, you know everything about my family.”
“Don’t be silly-Squawk-Mommy and Daddy went on a Pilgrimage-Squawk.”
Damn birds, there incessant echoing is playing on my conscious. How many people did I kill? If I remember properly, the village was of a population of thirty people, I never needed to take more than two people at a time. They would also respawn back to the max of thirty. How many generations have I nipped in the bud? I need a new approach.
“What do you know about the pilgrimage?” I was honestly curious how NPCs viewed me abducting their family and friends, as much as it pains me to think about it.
The thicket was so overgrown that it covered what little of a trail we had to follow, I began to cut through vines and bushes with the ceremonial knife to keep proceeding to the nearest township we could find. Although a bit weird that the trial clearly showed tread marks of people walking through here a lot, yet unkempt bushes blocked the path.
“We’re on it right now, are we not, Father?” she tilted her head slightly and cupped her chin with her free hand.
“F-father?” I stuttered slightly at the abrupt title, did I get an NPC pregnant somehow? Impossible, although, now that she mentioned it, she does look like a spitting image of my real daughter.
“Isn’t that what people should call their local cleric?” she innocently replied.
Oh thank god, I’m not a father in this world, just a priest for a village.
“Yes, my child,” I tailored my words around this new perspective, this may be the opportunity I’ve been looking for. “But, your journey has yet to truly begin.”
“Why not? I was beside you in the highest heaven men have dreamed of, as you protected us.”
Heaven? Protected Us?! Does she remember her fellow villager’s sacrifice? Yet she still claims I’m protecting them, this is some strong and misplaced devotion.
“You must speak to the goddess and ask that she bequeath her blessing upon you,” that was the best I could come up with on the spot, but I need to slide something in here to gain some information, anything, “Although, your full name is essential to allow you in her goddess’ grace.”
I hacked off vines and pieces of a bush with my bad hand, a burning sensation didn’t relent as each swing made the pain more unbearable.
“Squawk-Speak to the goddess-Speak to the goddess-Squawk.”
I swear, if they keep it up, we’re going to have bird meat roasting over a fire.
“My name?” her eyes moist and fixated on my frame, she then slowly said in a crackling voice, “Why my name?”
My hand was filled with vines, on the mossy ground was two thick pieces of wood. A light bulb appeared over my head, metaphorically speaking. I beckoned her over and motioned for her to sit on the ground. I put the two pieces of wood on both sides of her now fractured lower leg, and wrapped it up with the vines I collected, tying it all together in a constrictor knot. I made a splint for her injury to prevent all my hard work to go to waste, hopefully, we can find a more permanent solution.
“What is that?” she changed her question to my makeshift first-aid.
“A splint, it’s used for fractured or broken bones by keeping them straight, supported and protected,” reciting what little I knew, because my dusty college degree was in negotiation and conflict management, not medical science, “it’s a temporary measure till it either heals naturally or we find a more immediate solution.”
“Why not use healing magic?” she kept a soft voice while being conflicted about something, it's hard to say but her body language was odd since we started to move, she would: rub her neck, cross her arms, and strangely twist the bronze ring on her finger.
I gently raised my head from staring at her leg to her face, my face twitched slightly from her question but I tried to subdue it, “If I could heal with magic, I wouldn’t chop off my finger.”
Her face turned pale as she averted her eyes, mumbling, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Don’t worry about it, what’s done is done,” I waved her off with my mutilated hand, “more importantly, our top priority is your health at the moment for the both of us.”
She just opened her mouth wordlessly before shutting it, then just kept her eyes on my hands as I finished the last knots to the splint.
“All done,” standing up, I offered my hand to her.
She silently did nothing, leaving my offer to hang in the air. Her eyes were almost glaring through me as her face turned to beat red. “Beatrice Sunteon Redimere.”
“I’ll call you Beat for short if that’s alright with you,” she grasped my hand as she rose awkwardly, adapting to the splint.
“Red will be preferable, Father,” she refused to look me in the eyes after stating her name, oddly enough.
Was she onto me? Did she see through my smoke and mirrors, and get her heart crushed into smithereens?
“Beatrice Sunteon Redimere-Squawk-Beatrice-Squawk-Redimere-Squawk!” the colorful parrots beat their wings as they flew away beyond view.
“Damn birds,” we jinxed each other, I glanced at Red and chuckled. Maybe we were on the same mind link.
----------------------------------------
A man-sized black chimpanzee sat on a wooden throne, rolling his fingers on his armrest. A golden laurel wreath sat on his head in a crown-like status and he was dressed in a toga with a square pattern trimming.
Two gorillas stood guard by the entrance armed with bronze tridents, they were adorned in bronze armor and helmets with plumes of red hair and feathers. The throne room itself was built into a single giant oak tree amid a city with similar architecture.
The day was changing from a golden twilight to crimson glow that lit up the room, the days have been calm and peaceful as of late. Fluttering could be heard in the distance, the ape guards took a few steps away from the entrance, as a company of parrots flew past them.
The monkey king held up a hooked finger, and a single parrot perched itself. The feathers on its head flared up like a mohawk, promoting the king to gently pet the scarlet bird.
“What news do you bring? Simurgh,” his voice was guttural and as rough as gravel.
“Lord Konzi, my underlings found a demon and a human lurking around the isles,” she chirped as she butted her head into his hand. The primate loved his darling pet more than most simians under his rule.
“Humans?! In my kingdom!” Konzi clenched his perching hand while keeping a calm stroking motion with his other. “I thought most of those pathetic lumps of meat were eradicated from the war.”
“A few must’ve survived the Rapture,” the bird didn’t squawk, it's speaking and thinking capabilities were on the level of a genius among birds, “The human is called Beatrice Sunteon Redimere.”
“Is any creature foolish enough to speak their true name aloud?” The king then pondered in silence for a few moments before issuing an order, “Guards, inform everyone of our guests and tell them to treat them as our own, I want everyone to watch them with an eagle’s eye.”
Both apes gave a single strong pound to their chest before sheathing the tridents, and jumping off into the trees, swinging branch by branch.
“Simurgh, have your darling companions keep a bird's eye view on these strangers,” the order caused the parrot to flutter its wings in a hover, in front of the king.
“What do you plan, Lord Konzi?” Simurgh queried.
“My plan is to understand why their is a living human,” the king theorized, “If we pretend that we are ignorant towards their arrival, then they shall be put under a false sense of security, they will tell us their motives naturally or else we will have to force it out of them.”
“Or better yet, sacrifice them to Hlasien,” the parrot suggested.
The monkey king let loose a sinister chuckle, “Has it been that long since the last sacrifice on Mount Hlasien?”
The room got darker as the sun completely dipped under the ocean, most of the birds flocked back to their homes.
“Let the blood of humanity baptize our righteous faith, as the fiery lord cleanse Sheorth of their sins in open flames,” Konzi muttered scripture from the Book of Volcanus, as darkness consumed the room entirely.