Yggdrasil Fallen, LitRPG Series
Book 1, Obsidian
Chapter 18: Architect
Andre stood shirtless examining himself in the double mirrored dressing closet of the unit he’d been assigned by one of Silderson’s staff. Upon his initial entry to the extravagant suite, he had stood agog; the living room alone was far larger than the entirety of his meager apartment. Further exploration left him overwhelmed:
“This place is more like an Aspen condo, not a freegin apartment! And that view is just incredible!” He’d been stunned by the floor to ceiling windows that had a high-up view overlooking a lush, greening valley. The attention to convenience details inside were mind boggling: from the adjustable high pressure shower head with an inset tile bench in the shower, to the pot fillers in the kitchen and more ethernet/USB charging ports than he could imagine using, a full day after being shown to it and Andre was still discovering handy quirks the design team had implemented in the building of this unit.
While he was certain the closet mirrors had been designed for a full 360 view of an individual’s attire, he was currently using it to examine the elaborate scar that ran from the nape of his neck, across his shoulders, down his spine and vanished beneath his boxer shorts. While it was all deeply cut scar tissue, there was an extremely detailed image of a vast tree with its thick trunk wrapped in budding vines, and its intricate root system starting at the small of his back, vanishing to his boxer line. Its 9 main branches divided in an incongruous evenly staggered spread across his upper back, with the two longest reaching from shoulder to shoulder:
“Its almost as though I’ve been stuck with some hyper intricate, oversized brand.” He thought to himself.
“Notice: there appears to be some correlation to this scarring and your convergence ability. I am currently analyzing exactly what that may be, but for now use convergence skills sparingly.” As ALIAS spoke Andre continued to examine the scar:
While the whole tree appeared to be draped in vines, the one that wrapped his shoulder/bicep to his right hand was slightly thicker, more substantiative. Andre realized two branches had odd formations near their tips, the vines bulged out looking almost like a budding leaf, only inside there were distinct symbols comprised of much smaller vines woven from the branches up to take its form. The second branch from his left shoulder he recognized as the symbol that had been etched into the Sigil of Laguz, but on the branch right next to/above it was a symbol he didn’t recognize. It had parallel lines almost like an “H” only the intersecting line was at a hard angle, from the middle of the top third of one line, the middle of the bottom third of the other. Despite the scars elaborate, deep cut appearance he didn’t feel it at all. He had expected his skin to be at the very least tight with a feeling of tension across the scarred skin, but there was nothing. It was as though it were tattooed onto him, rather than deeply carved.
Sighing, Andre pulled on a long-sleeved, cream-colored button up collared shirt he had found hanging in the closet, effectively covering all but the scar across his hand.
“Damn, I am looking good!” He thought, sliding the buttons into their respective holes before slipping his necklace underneath. Leaving the closet, he walked through the bedroom and into the main living area, where he flicked on the TV. Some inane drivel filled the screen, followed by the overloud antics of a cartoon he’d never seen. Flipping the channel to the local news station Andre found himself reflecting on what had transpired. He had spent his day free of interruption or interrogation: cleaning himself up, eating, drinking and sleeping. This was the first time he’d turned on the TV and as the dry anchorman’s voice filled the room Andre found the current segment grabbing his attention.
“The follow up investigations have shown no motivation for the series of explosions that rocked a small mountain community just one week ago.” Laughing, Andre flicked the TV back off before sliding open the balcony door and stepping out into the brisk morning air.
“Must be a dry Newsday if they’re rehashing shit from almost a week ago.” He continued to laugh, taking in the sharply contrasting green and valley flowers. He longed to be back on a trail: just him, the spring breeze, richly wooded floral air and the gentle padding of his own feet as he carefully plodded the terrain. He could almost feel the gravel beneath his shoes as he took another deep breath, transporting himself back to the last hike he took: his first of the season.
“Good gods man, how can I possibly even tell if any of this shits even real. Those dreams man… I can’t even judge reality by the sensations… sight, smell… touch. Hell, even pain is so real.” His mind once more drifted; taking him back to the vine root trap that had captured and crushed him. Squeezing the very air from his lungs and life from his body. In a way he could still feel the cold hard ground beneath his body, the meager warmth that emanated from that… lamp thing. Then the feeling of panic as he sprinted across the plains, ALIAS screaming in his mind and the other… voice? Hammering him forwards.
“What the hell am I even supposed to do about all this?” His mind shifted again, this time to the conversations with both Phione and Tione. The sheer gravity of everything they discussed churned his stomach, threatening to upend its contents. this He found himself so entranced at the memory he almost didn’t hear the sharp knock at the door. It wasn’t until the second round of knocking when he found himself shouting:
“Door’s open!” He hollered as he strode back inside, sliding the screen door closed to allow the crisp fresh air to flow in.
“Good day young Sir.” An ancient, emaciated, pale man had entered and greeted him with a surprisingly deep silky voice.
“And who do I have the pleasure of gracing my presence this fine day?”
The man’s cold, calculating eyes raked over Andres well dressed, slender form. His leathery, dry almost cracked face almost creaked as an aged tooth smile split his flaking lips. Andre found himself almost nauseated at the man’s appearance.
“I am the man they call the architect. I have been asked to meet with you to assess your level of skill and physical prowess in preparation for a dungeon dive the day after tomorrow. I wanted to take such an opportunity to introduce myself. Assessing you outside that hospital room, in a conscious state was just a means to that end.” Andre felt his skin crawl at the pure dichotomy of the man’s appearance to voice. He stilled his nerves before replying, his words guarded and cold themselves:
“I see, I can only assume Silderson has sent you then.”
“But of course, we need to be sure his “Investment” will be one that will bear fruit. You should be flattered, it has been quite some time since my interest in anyone or anything has been piqued.” Eyeing the machete laid across the coffee table, where Andre had left it after his thorough examination the night before he motioned to it:
“So that is one of the artefacts that had our investigations team so distraught. Would you mind if I examined it?” Cursing himself for having not stashed the weapon away sooner, Andre looked between where the weapon lay, and the Architect.
“That should be fine, just be careful, the blade is exceptionally sharp and its effects are… terrifying.”
The mans eyes shone with a gleeful light, belying the almost sinister smile that played across his lips.
“Never you worry, I have seen and handled things your very simple mind could not even begin to grasp, let alone fathom.” He strode across the room with surprising swiftness and grace, sweeping the weapon up off the table in a swift arc. The blade whistled through the air as its bone and gem clad sinew attachment swung about.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“It’s shockingly light, and…. Oooohhhhhh the power.” He moaned, disturbing Andre with the almost sexual purring pleasure.
“Stygian, now that is an odd prefix” he murmured, freezing Andre to the spot.
“What did you say…?”
“Oh, never you worry, it matters naught.” He replied, making several sweeping slashes with the weapon, narrowly missing the couch and hanging fixtures.
“This is quite the weapon you have here, you’d be well advised to protect it with all you have.” He continued, striding around the couch until he was almost nose to nose with Andre, the weapon hanging loosely in his grip, his sickly-sweet breath nauseating him. The Architect turned, placing the weapon on the counter and began fidgeting, his eyes tracking back and forth through the air in a manner Andre quickly recognized as someone looking through interface screens.
“Would you mind fetching me a glass of water?” he asked congenially, his eyes not halting their rapid, tracing path. Unrooting from the spot Andre half staggered, half printed to the kitchen and began filling a glass from the cupboard with ice and filtered water from the fridge. Returning to where the unnerving man stood, he saw that he had placed a few things on the counter next to his machete. A thick heavy black leather belt and a steel bound tome, chains draped over its surface.
“Thank you, young sir, I was finding myself quite… parched.” The man stated, licking his cracked drying lips thirstily.
“Now, Mr. Silderson told me you came across your healing rain ability in quite the stroke of accidental luck…” His words posed more of a leading question than an actual statement; before he gulped the water down greedily.
“I guess you could call it that, finding a “Magic” stone while hiking thanks to a rickety old bridge is quite lucky, I suppose.”
“Do you think you could demonstrate your ability for me?”
“I mean, yeah… but I’d rather not do it here.” Andre motioned around him:
“Things tend to get very wet when I do, and I’m sure Silderson would be quite upset with me for frying another one of his extravagant facilities.”
“Very well, I expect to see you in the training hall in 30 minutes, where I will fully assess you” the malevolence in his eyes almost glimmered with excitement at the prospect.
“Make sure you come well prepared and… equipped… as you see fit.” As he turned to leave the room, he patted the 2 new items adorning the counter.
“By the way, these are for you… gifts from my… personal collection.” He strode out of the room, a gurgling laugh in his wake.
Andre shook himself, clearing his senses; a thick heaviness seeming to have cleared the air. “Now, that is an experience I don’t soon want to repeat.” He thought to himself, the dread steeped realization congealing in his chest that he only had 30 minutes until he DID in fact have to repeat the experience. “Well fuck, that’s going to be REAL fun.”
The objects left behind, while they hadn’t left the periphery of his mind, became his absolute focus. “Now, what accursed items did he leave behind to fuck with me?” He thought, reaching out first to grab the thick, coiled leather strap.
*Item: “Jet Swordbelt of the Shadow Panther”: a Shadow panther leather belt, affixed with a Jet buckle. The sword loop adjusts to various blade and hilt sizes, and is impervious to damage from stored weaponry. When equipped provides +3 augmentation to “AGILITY” “DEXTERITY” and +5 to “DEFENCES” and “PIERCING” Statistics. Rarity: Epic, Quality: Moderate, Value: Moderate, Aspect: Shadow, Durability: 3000/3000”
“Wow, I’ll certainly be putting this to use!” Andre thought to himself, excited to have yet another piece of aspected gear to wear, much less something to hold his weapon.
“Now, about this book.”
*Item: “Movements of the Crimson Shadow”: A skill book designed to train Initiates to the brotherhood with the basic and intermediate skills required to take on moderate grade contracts. Consumable, using this item will impart the skills contained within, augmenting Hand to Hand and Bladed Weapon prowess. Rarity: Epic, Quality: Epic, Value: Extreme, Aspect: Blaze/Gale/Shadow, Uses 1/1. *
This was the first time Andre had encountered a skill book, the surreal feeling of its nature thrummed in his hands, its power threatening to overwhelm him.
“If there were words other than “Holy Shit” I’m not sure they’d be in English.” Andre marveled over the chain-clad book held in his hands.
“ALERT: Use of skill book at this time is not advised, recovery time from the use far exceeds the time remaining until your scheduled appointment.” ALIAS chimed, alerting Andre to the current time.
“SHIT! I need to get moving!” He dropped the book back to the counter, rushed to change into some basic fitness attire. He paused momentarily considering his stat augmenting jewelry. Best I leave these behind, if he doesn’t know about what they do, I don’t need to be revealing them. He dropped both the necklace and bracer on his dresser before sprinting out the door to meet the Architect at the training facility.
He burst through the doors into a moderately equipped gym, to find the emaciated looking man standing in a sweat stained white sleeveless shirt and sagging sweat pants.
“You’re late.”
“I’m sorry, I lost track of time getting ready, you know I had to look peak fab for this assessment!”
“Never mind, let’s just get this underway. Follow me.” He turned and walked through a door against a far wall, leading into a large room with the floor covered with thick mats.
“You may use your ability here; these mats are designed to rapidly absorb and siphon off moisture as well as being almost impervious to magical energies. A little rainstorm should pose little to no threat to them.”
Andre complied, activating his “Blissful Rain” ability, a cool misty rain surrounding him and encompassing the Architect; who’s expression upon contact changed to an almost goofy grin.
“Whoa, now that really is something special.” He tilted his face up, attempting to drink in the falling drops. Years seeming to melt off his face as he seemed to stand taller, shoulders squared and stance firm.
“You can consider this test, at least a pass. Now, demonstrate to me the abilities you’ve been attempting to hide from everyone else.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I can only summon this rain, though if I do it too often or in too quick a succession I get really dizzy.”
The joy in his eyes was quickly replaced by the familiar cold, calculating gaze raked over the dripping Andre.
“Very well, let’s get on with the rest of this assessment, starting with combat.”
The assessment was brutal, while Andre was in great physical condition thanks to his construction work, and long arduous weekend hikes; the Architect kicked his ass across the floor in every way possible. From the Hand-to-Hand combat, where Andre found all his martial arts experience, and power gained from the levels he’d picked up in the ritual chamber seriously stamped into the ground, to the strength and endurance tests he was put through. Andre paled in comparison to this scrawny, skeletal man. It had been 2 hours of raw brutality before he finally remitted the tests and spoke to him in a finalizing manner.
“You really aren’t that bad though with skills like yours; its an absolute wonder you managed to kill a single monster, much less an Alpha Beast. You should count your lucky stars kid. I’m going to clear you for tomorrows mission, only because that healing rain ability you have is a real game changer. Go rest up, and be ready for your flight briefing at 6 AM in the conference room; DON’T BE LATE!” The emphasis on the last three words barely reached a beaten and bedraggled Andre, as he all but crawled out of the gym, and back to his apartment.
Andre collapsed into the couch, a steaming ham and swiss sandwich accompanied by a small pile of BBQ chips and an ice-cold Coke in hand. He ate slowly, going over the tests he had just experienced, seriously regretting leaving behind his stat augmenting equipment. While he’d made the logical argument to the Architect as to why he chose not to wear them, that being he didn’t want the trinkets getting in his way, the look he had given him left him seriously questioning his decisions. He now understood the reason behind that inquisitive look. Andre quickly consumed his meal, standing from the couch and painfully walking to place the dishes in the sink the skill book caught his eye. It lay there lingering, almost calling to him. Not bothering to wash the dishes he hooked the heavy book in a sweeping motion as he passed by the counter, heading towards his bedroom. Snuggled under the silky down comforter, on the oddly cooling memory foam mattress Andre undid the chains binding the book closed and opened it to the first page:
“Movements of the Crimson Shadow, Editions 1-3, Author unknown.” He read the introductory page, the book seeming to vibrate in his hands.
“You have opened a skill book for which you meet the minimum requirements to use. Using this item will consume it in its entirety rendering its contents useless for future use. The effects of using such an item are extremely strenuous and require significant time for recovery, absorption and implementation. Assenting to use will begin the process. Do you wish to use “Movements of the Crimson Shadow, Editions 1-3”?” ALIAS had interrupted his reading. Checking that the morning alarms were properly set on his phone, and that it was charging, he responded.
“So, using this book will actually impart all its teachings without me having to practice or even read it?”
“That is correct.”
“Well, that’s absolutely incredible! Just like a fucking skill book from my favorite video game, only real! Well… maybe? Let’s just see. Ok ALIAS, Use “Skill book of Movements of the Crimson Shadow, Editions 1-3”
“Beginning integration.”
“Well, that’s ominous.” Andre barely eked out the thought before the book exploded in a thick crimson cloud swirling around the room in a windless tornado, Andre at the eye of it. The cloud converged on his head, forcing its way in through his eyes, ears, nose and mouth as mild electrical burn ripped through his body. The pain was terrible, but nowhere near as terrible as when he’d been branded. The crimson cloud abated, having fully vanished into him, his mind flooded with the sheer force of everything that had just been imparted upon, his mind buzzing with the electricity of the new neural pathways being forcefully forged. Overwhelmed he sank deep under the plush coverings, curled into the mattress. Darkness folded itself in around him and in that moment he slept peacefully, no dreams plaguing him that night.