Player Reached the Top. LitRPG Series. Book V Page 11

  The whisper was breaking against his mental resistance like a wave against a rock. But with every step he took, his gut feeling screamed that something was wrong. So he decided to get out of here for now.

  After shaking the confusing effect off, he looked up and used his favorite skill combo: Double Jump, Leap, and Wings. The castle was about a hundred and twenty feet tall, but that posed no problem for him. However, once he was in the air over the dark walls, a strange force pulled him down.

  It felt like tentacles wrapping themselves around his feet. However hard he struggled to break free, he still got pulled down until he hit the ground face-first.

  -200 HP

  “What the fuck?!” He jumped up, recovering from the impact, and looked around. The whisper returned with even greater power and, finally breaking his mental resistance, subdued him.

  Attention! You have been affected by Mental Vermin.

  Your body is being controlled by ???.

  Effect duration: 5 hours

  Side effects:

  Sight: -50%

  Hearing: -70%

  Speed: -70%

  Dodge chance: 0%

  Magic resistance reduced.

  Physical resistance reduced.

  His vision was blurry. His ears were buzzing. His mind was a mess. His feet, no longer obeying him, were trudging toward the door that creaked open for the sudden visitor.

  ***

  As the possessed Will was making his way into the bowels of the castle, the description of Round Four was posted on the Ascension forum.

  Round Four: The Maze

  Participants:

  1. White Raven

  2. Alien Body

  3. Perdition

  4. Crimson Berserker

  …

  20. Mystical Darkness

  Rules:

  Each of the twenty contestants will get a name token. If they are killed, the token will automatically be collected by the killer. The goal is to collect five (5) tokens, including yours.

  Only four players will make it to the finale.

  More rules will be published 10 minutes before the beginning of The Maze.

  See you there! Good luck!

  Chapter 261. A Dead Man’s Unquenchable Thirst

  T he feeling of being under control was new and strange. As he had very high mental resistance, Raven had never found himself in a situation like this one.

  It wasn’t until now that he understood the cause of the continuous whispers, and the odd feeling they awoke in him. As he made his way through the castle, walking as though wading through a swamp, he realized that this was probably a passive skill of whoever lived in this place.

  His slow steps echoed loudly through the pitch darkness that fell once the door slowly closed behind him, keeping the daylight out. Or was he seeing the inside as completely dark because of his impeded sight? He couldn’t tell for sure. Not that he really cared, anyway.

  Not only had he lost control over his body that now walked toward the unknown, obeying someone else’s will, but all his skills had been blocked as well. He couldn’t even summon Hade or his other pets. Nothing but his brain seemed to work and obey him.

  Shit...! Five hours wasted. And I haven’t saved!

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had saved before coming here. No pro gamer ever forgot such things. Then again, he technically wasn’t a pro.

  Once he thought about the respawn point, a sudden idea came to him. If his body weren’t possessed, he would’ve stopped and hurriedly checked one small item he had — Prince Arrey’s Locket. The respawn point provided to him by this item was…

  On Floor 3! Fucking hell! This fact was so disturbing that he even forgot about his current situation for a while. Does that… Does that mean that I won’t be able to come back to my Floor?

  His anxiety skyrocketed as he thought about it. The possibility of losing access to his Floor and wasting years of progress was frightening. He felt like his fate now depended on Lady Fortuna’s whimsical nature. The lady that no one had met, but that everyone knew could work miracles by just smiling at someone.

  He felt helpless and frustrated, like a fly stuck in a spider web, trying desperately to break free, while the spider chuckled at his misfortune and rubbed its tiny hands.

  He had no idea where he was or how much time had passed since he had entered the castle. His body continued on, walking mindlessly like a zombie through complete darkness, until he sensed a sudden change in the air.

  He couldn’t take a deeper breath but the stench that tickled his nostrils was different than before. From what he could discern in the darkness in front of him, he was in a big, empty hall; similar to that of his castle where he’d often sit alone as he considered his future plans.

  For a minute or two, he stood motionless.

  At last, a sigh came from the silent darkness. A deep, raspy breath. Will struggled to pick the right word to describe this sound. It was something in between the rattle of windows during a storm and the snapping of twigs in a fireplace.

  “Mmmm... A living soul.” The stranger sniffed and continued in a slow whisper that seemed to fill every crevice of the hall. “Strong. Unusual. Like no other that came before. Where are you from?” Another sigh. “Tell me.”

  Will heard a muffled thud like that of a wooden staff knocking on the floor, and felt that he could finally speak.

  Taken aback by this change, he choked on the air and coughed.

  “I’m Raven. White Raven. A messenger. The new king of Adamarona. And who are you?”

  He made his voice sound as calm and confident as possible. He knew that words had a power that could either stop or start terrible disasters and wars.

  Another thud brought his body back to its puppet state. It was in that moment that he realized what the witches felt when he used the Crystal to control them.

  It feels awful... He tried to sigh, but couldn’t.

  “A king? A king? A king?” The mysterious speaker stirred in the dark, repeating this word as though tasting it. An acid-green glow dispersed the darkness, revealing a mossy stone throne and its seven-foot-tall occupant.

  Their clothes had once been fine, but now they looked like torn and tattered rags coated with dried blood. Through the holes, he could see the whiteness of bone. The person looked like they had been dead for hundreds of years. No doubt that they actually were dead… or rather, undead.

  There was no trace of hair or a crown on the white skull. Skeleton hands and feet held (or rather rested on) an amazingly crafted staff like none that Will had seen before. It was covered with intricate glowing patterns and topped with a green ball of light that emitted a ghastly glow.

  “I remember. A king. Yes. I was once a king, too. And a warrior. And a husband. And a father. Until I was betrayed.”

  Raven was itching to use Identification but, realizing how stupid of a move that would be, continued to listen instead. The skeleton continued its monotonous, emotionless speech.

  “I was… poisoned.” Its voice was growing louder until it turned into a sudden growl that shattered the silence. “By worthless idiots! Reduced to… To a puny ghost!” it spat. “Undead... I must know… I must know why… The lightning…” Its voice was dying down and becoming less discernable until it was reduced to the initial whisper. All the power it had had seconds before was now gone.

  This must be Varkul. Varkul… Er… Will struggled to remember the full name of the ruler who had commissioned the Bracelets.

  “You. Another seeker. Your choice is simple. Die… Or go to the valley and discover the secret.”

  As the staff touched the floor, Will could speak again.

  “Sure, I’ll go and discover it,” he said in his usual manner, without showing how much he desired such an outcome. “What secret are you interested in, Varkul?”

  “You know… my name?” The skull with green light pouring out of its empty sockets came down to Will’s face to peer into his eyes. “How?”

 
“How? Why, it’s been passed down through centuries, filling many generations with awe. It wasn’t difficult to recognize you, Your Majesty, from the stories that I’ve heard about you. The story of your death has been written down in history books as a perfect illustration of the word ‘betrayal’. I hope you punished those who have wronged you when you rose from the dead.” Will wasn’t sure if he should’ve spun this flattering story, but he hoped that it’d please the dead king.

  He was aware of how thin the ice he was stepping on was. Undead, unlike the living, couldn’t use facial expressions or gestures to express themselves, so interpreting what they meant and wanted was a bit tricky. All Will could do was rely on his intuition.

  “I’d like to help you. Tell me: what exactly do you need me to do?”

  Varkul’s skull was still inches away from his face. Then the dead king heaved a sigh and returned to his throne.

  “I have no power over your soul. Over your mind. Over the secrets you’re hiding. I can’t see them. But experience has taught me to trust no one. I’ve learned this… lesson.”

  The staff flew up, and a humming sound came from Varkul’s mouth. It took Will a few seconds to realize that the dead king was speaking in a language unknown to him.

  This... can’t be good.

  Will wasn’t as dumb as to scream: What are you doing? He knew fully well that this question wouldn’t be answered.

  Space was tearing itself apart, with emerald sparks blazing around the staff and weird symbols appearing in the air in front of Will to form the shape of a snake’s head.

  “That side… keeps many terrible secrets… boy. And this is one… Those I got. Your loyalty will be guaranteed… by your arm. If you want it back… you’ll have to come back to me!”

  As Varkul screamed that, his staff moved and the snake’s head darted for Will’s left arm, opening its jaws. The whole thing happened so quickly that all Will could do was watch his limb about to get ripped off. However, what happened next surprised even him.

  Uncursed activated. The Unwilling Friend curse has been deflected.

  You get:

  +Lich Arm

  And…

  +The Otherworldly Staff of Maniarta

  “Well, this is awkward,” Will muttered as he saw Varkul crumble to dust.

  Chapter 262. A Threat of Destruction

  H ive, the capital city of the Swarm

  In his search for answers, Kirsssan failed to get an audience with the queen. Her Majesty’s personal bodyguards – the best seven soldiers in the whole empire – wouldn’t let him pass, citing the queen’s order. These seven were the only Latians (except the three kings and the queen herself) who could speak on her behalf.

  But when three hours remained before the scheduled event, one of queen’s maids knocked on Kirsssan’s door.

  He instantly recognized the girl. Shy and inconspicuous, she was known to every frequent visitor of the palace as the only cripple allowed to serve the queen. Her arms were mutilated since birth and couldn’t transform into jagged blades. But still, she had been accepted into the queen’s service, reminding everyone just how kind and caring the Mother of Latians once used to be.

  Lisssinda, that’s her name...

  The young girl looked scared. Like a mouse peeking into a cat’s den, she cast intimidated looks around, wrapping her gray travel cloak tighter around herself, apparently itching to come inside.

  Kirsssan, whose mood was ruined by the upcoming event and his role in it, was about to tell the maid to go away when she whispered the words that changed his mind: “I carry the queen’s order, sire.”

  “Come in.” After closing the door, he sat down at the table and clenched his jaw, preparing to hear the girl out. Telisssa had never sent to him a maid before. It had always been either her trusted messengers who carried information or orders, or her soldiers who’d come to escort him to the palace or (more often in these recent days) to prison. No one else. Something extraordinary must have happened if she had sent a maid to speak on her behalf.

  Kirsssan had no doubt that what the maid was telling was the truth. Lying or playing a trick on him by using the queen’s name like that was worse than covering yourself with the sticky substance and then rushing to meet a herd of wild toponots.

  The consequences would be worse than death.

  “You m-must d-delay the s-sacrifice.”

  Feeling safer and a bit braver, Lisssinda cut straight to the chase. Her faint, trembling voice and her downcast gaze (she’d never dare rise it at a member of royalty) were a stark contrast to her words.

  “What are you saying, my child?” Kirsssan frowned. Her words were beyond ridiculous. He got his orders regarding the sacrifice from Telisssa herself – and now this nobody was telling him to do the opposite thing. “Does the queen want me to delay the completion of her own order?”

  “Yes, m-my lord. She d-does.” The girl was standing across him, petrified with fear.

  His mind was boggling at his attempts to make sense of her words. She can’t be lying to me. Can she?

  Kirsssan stood up from his seat and came up to the window to take a peek out into the street, opening the heavy curtains. His house was next to the ancient altar; he could see people gathering there. People who were about to sacrifice their lives for…

  For what exactly?

  He had no habit of doubting the queen and her words, but her initial order… and this maid carrying to him an even weirder one…

  Why wouldn’t she tell me directly?

  Letting the curtain fall, he turned around to look at Lisssinda.

  “Any more orders from my queen?”

  “Yes, m-my lord. You-u… er… The queen said you must h-help me reach A… Ada… Adamarona.” Having stumbled over this complicated word, the shivering maid gripped the ends of her cloak, realizing how impudent she must’ve sounded, even though these words weren’t her own.

  “What?!” Kirsssan’s brows flew up and then collided at his nose bridge. His voice came out as menacing. “Should I accompany you? I? The third king?!”

  “N-n-n-n-no, Your M-majesty.” Seeing his rage, the girl dropped to her knees, muttering: “The q-queen just w-wanted you to g-give me an… an att…” She struggled over another complicated word. As she realized the king was waiting for her to finish speaking, she became even more nervous, stuttering badly until Kirsssan ended her suffering.

  “Calm down,” he said in a friendlier voice, waved his hand, and sat back down. She might faint if she gets even more scared. “I understand what you mean. You need an attendant, don’t you?”

  “Y-Yes, my lo-lord.”

  He rested his head on his folded arms, trying to complete this puzzle once again, but one important piece was still missing.

  “What’s your purpose in Adamarona?”

  “I’m p-prohibited to s-speak about it, Your M-majesty.”

  “I see. Please, sit down. I’ll find you an attendant.”

  Lisssinda perched herself obediently on the edge of the chair and waited for the king to come back. She had no idea why the queen had entrusted her with such a dangerous and confusing mission, but she had no other choice than to obey.

  After the maid left, accompanied by one of Kirsssan’s elder daughters, born before his ascension to the throne, he set on completing the order sent to him with the girl, but things went awry from the very start.

  The stones of the ancient altar, soaking in blood from times immemorial, were red and gleaming in the sun. For a moment, this sight awoke in Kirsssan the memory of the day he had become the third king. Telisssa had been in her right mind back then. As he stood by the altar, he felt that the reality-denying part of his mind was finally succumbing to the inevitable.

  From the small podium, he could see the Latians gathering around the ritual square. As he looked for a way to delay the sacrifice, his body suddenly became disobedient, his mind lapsing into some sort of a trance. The turbulent current of his thoughts was reduced to a trickle as
an alien will broke into his mind, threatening to destroy it completely and turn him into an obedient puppet.

  Take a rest, you nobody. A deep female voice filled with tremendous power swept over his mind like a giant wave, washing his self-consciousness away and sending him into oblivion.

  He had no idea how long he had been roaming in the dark before waking to a loudly swearing female voice. It wasn’t the same as the one he had heard before. This one sounded much younger.

  He was prostrated on the cold stones, his face submerged into some liquid, his whole body aching, and his head buzzing as if he had been poisoned or had a terrible hangover. As his eyes produced the washing liquid, his sight soon cleared enough to see lots of dried bodies. He was sprawled in a pool of blood that flooded the entire altar.

  Kirsssan jumped up instantly to a surge of adrenaline, and soon realized the scale of the tragedy. Hundreds of Latian corpses were scattered around the ancient structure like broken toys, their eyes full of terror.

  The king backed away and barely escaped falling from the edge. He moved his gaze off the pile of dead bodies but found no other place to rest it on. Everyone who had come to the call was now dead. Seniors. Women. Children. His brothers, sisters, and offspring.

  Finally, his attention was drawn by the screams coming from the center of the altar, the sound like that of a captured female gripocruff.

  As his shock began to subside, he was soon able to make out the words cried out by the female prisoner hanging in the air on thick energy ropes. When he realized who the prisoner was, something clicked in his brain and he collapsed to his knees, refusing to believe his eyes.

  Hundreds of Latians had died for the mysterious ancient magic to find and capture the girl who had been wanted by all spies and bounty hunters for two years already.