Kill or Die Book #4: A LitRPG Series, page 16
Or was it something else?
It was the feeling of power and the strength it gave me. The ability to avenge those who had harmed my loved ones and to uncover the truth.
By the time I entered the conference room, I already knew the answer.
Doc was the first to speak. They wanted to get rid of me fast, settle the rest in their cozy little circle.
“Andrew,” said Dr. Kotov, sounding wise and sententious, “you’ve done excellent work, and we’re grateful. But what do you intend to do now? The threat is gone… I see no further need for your role. Does anyone else?”
He looked around the room affably over the rims of his glasses.
“Then allow me to respond!” I spoke up.
“What?” Doc feigned polite surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected any remarks from me. The whole scene had been scripted and rehearsed—and I wasn’t part of it.
“You asked me about my plans. Allow me to respond. First of all, I plan to rescue Yumi from the game. You know, Zoia Menshova—your first comatose player.” I stressed the word “your” deliberately for the executives before me. “I believe that, that alone is a worthy goal, wouldn’t you say?”
Chapter 16
SILENCE FELL OVER THE ROOM. The kind so absolute you could hear every creak of the pedigree leather furniture as people shifted uncomfortably in it. Four pairs of eyes fixed on me. Doc’s were arrogant and confused. I didn’t have any lines in the script he’d written.
Dr. Skuratova looked angry but intrigued. Apparently, I’d managed to pique her interest. Benny’s eyes were filled with hope. Was he really the only one who wanted to save the trapped players? And yet, Zvyagin was the only one I knew for sure actually logged into the game, which meant he would be at risk of getting stuck in there as well.
The Master squinted at me with a cunning glint. He was the first to break the silence.
“And what does this have to do with fighting corruption?”
“It’s very simple, Eli,” I explained. “Anyone who tries to stop me or sabotages the testing process is obviously a corrupt official. Still planning to strip me of my authority?”
Doc’s face turned a nasty shade of red. Honestly, I thought for sure his stubbornness would overpower every other emotion. Turned out I’d misjudged him.
“You’re bluffing,” Doc said, pulling off his glasses and staring straight at me.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” I shrugged. Damn, I actually liked provoking him. “Why guess? You’ll see for yourself.”
“You have…” Dr. Kotov glanced at his astronomically expensive watch, “ten hours. I expect results by 5 p.m.”
“Then, if you’ll excuse me,” I said with a touch of ceremony, “I need to get to work.”
Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked out of the room.
I was shaking. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my veins, flushing out the last traces of alcohol and cranking my reflexes to the max. Psychologists call this a fight-or-flight response. But all I had were people to fight and nowhere to run.
A door slammed behind me and quick footsteps followed.
“What the hell are you doing?!” The Master grabbed my shoulder, spun me around and shoved me up against the wall. “What the hell was that circus?!”
“No worse than your damn circus, that’s what!” I tried to keep my voice calm but nearly shouted. “ ‘I guess she feared shame more than death…’ Give me a break! You could piss in their eyes and they’d call it holy water. They killed her, don’t you get it? Which means they cleaned the place before we got there. Tied up all the loose ends. And you… calling it ‘suicide…’ Do you think I’m an idiot?!”
“You are an idiot!” the Master spat in my face and then seemed to calm down a bit. Honestly, I started to worry he might actually punch me. “I was trying to get you out of the line of fire! What’s wrong with you? You liked the company car too much? Chick next door finally started sleeping with you?”
“Don’t blame me for liking the car. I never asked for it.”
“Then why the hell did you go off script?”
“I’m not some chess piece for you to move around as you please!” I finally blurted out what had been on my mind since last night. “You think I didn’t see what you’re doing? A gambit. Sacrifice a pawn to gain an advantage. So what changed now? Feeling sorry for the pawn?”
“I do feel sorry,” the Master admitted. “I saw that girl with a toe-tag and yeah, I felt sorry. I don’t want to have to explain to your parents why their son ended up dead. I’ve had enough of that.”
“And what are you telling to the parents of everyone who’s stuck in VR?”
“That’s different…”
“No—it’s worse! You think that if they can still be brought back, it’s somehow not real. But every single one we managed to claw out was all thanks to me! With all due respect, Eli, you haven’t done a damn thing yet.”
The Master scowled. I knew I’d crossed a line. He might not forgive me for this conversation. But then again, I stood by every word. The time for diplomatic pleasantries was over. Being polite wasn’t going to help me now. All that would get me was a polite dismissal and a boot out the door.
“I’m the one who kept you from getting kicked off the project,” the Master said, surprisingly calm. “So, feel better now? Got it all out? You scuttled my whole ploy, you dumbass.”
“What ploy?!”
But the Master already realized that he’d said too much. Or maybe he was just toying with me, like he always did.
“We’ll talk tonight,” he said. “For now, focus on what you promised. Can you actually pull her out?”
“What difference does it make?” I said.
He looked at me in surprise. Then he got it.
“You want them to stop you,” he said, studying me like he was seeing me for the first time. “You’re deliberately walking into the line of fire.”
“I liked your gambit idea,” I said with a shrug.
The Master turned to look at the conference room door. We’d moved far enough away, but we’d been yelling. Doc had no doubt caught the loudest parts.
“So you’ve decided to follow Napoleon’s advice,” the Master chuckled. “In any battle, the key is to get involved first—then see what happens.”
He looked at the doors again, this time with amusement.
“Come on, Andrew. I’ll walk you out.”
* * *
I slept through the time that remained before the next round of the beta. Sprawled out on a couch, I covered myself with my jacket and slipped off into a sleep so deep I barely managed to claw my way out fifteen minutes before go time.
Still yawning, I stumbled to my VR pod.
The countdown. The spiral. Goooood morniiiing, AI!
I spawned in the central square, next to the Circle of Rebirth. Last time I died, I’d lost a few coins and my black leather armor. No matter, it was about time I replaced it anyway.
The mayor’s palace loomed to the right. A grand three-story building with columns and ornate molding. You’d never guess it used to be a modest little house, barely different from the rest only a few weeks ago.
I wondered where Yumi was now. Last I saw her was right here. Or more precisely—this was where I had killed her. But she respawned back then. I doubted we were on good terms now. She wouldn’t let me get close. Which meant force was the only option left.
Yeah, I really was planning to pull Yumi out of the game, though I still didn’t know how. I had a few ideas, but nothing solid. The only character I’d ever managed to disconnect permanently was Sibyl. The AI itself had confirmed her death. But what exactly had made that possible? Which factor? Would the same thing work on Yumi if I recreated the conditions?
The mayor’s palace was more like a fortress. Guards at the doors, first-floor windows barred, pikemen patrolling along the walls. All of them were Level 20+ now. No way I could storm it. Lance and his squad had almost pulled it off, but the city authorities had learned their lesson and doubled their fortifications.
Sneak in? I’d need stealth players for that. I wondered how the Whisperer Faction was doing after losing their temple and their high priest. I should probably pay them a visit, see if there were any candidates worth recruiting—before the spider cult beat me to it.
My brain was slowly shifting from the snowy outskirts of Moscow to the recent events in the game. But… why sneak? Why not just walk right in? They used to let me through just fine. I was hardly a stranger in this place…
Alas, now the guards silently crossed their halberds in front of me.
“I need to see the mayor,” I said confidently.
“His Excellency is not receiving guests!” the guard boomed.
It felt like his plate armor added extra resonance—his voice rang like a bell. A few players loitering in the square even turned to look.
“When will he be receiving citizens?”
“The city is in mourning for the death of the Holy Lady Sibyl,” he proclaimed. “There shall be no mayoral audience until the vile perpetrator is apprehended AND BROUGHT TO JUSTICE!”
He shouted the last part right in my face, causing a cold sweat to break out on my neck. It looked like I was locked out until they caught me. The AI was dead sure it was only a matter of time. I had seen the poster in the first alley I turned into:
A cruel killer who defied the law:
He serves Death, his solemn vow.
He hates all life with furious spite,
But Judgment comes—prepare to fight!
The poem sucked, but it got the message across. After reading it, players ogled intently at my clan badge. My Level 23 kept them from coming at me immediately, but that wouldn’t last. Sooner or later, some brave soul—or fool—would try. Then they’d realize it would be easier to mob me. The situation was snowballing and threatening not just me but my whole clan.
Alright. First, I had to find my people. But before that—I’d hit up the store for some new gear.
“We don’t serve dead men here,” the merchant said, turning away from me. “Your gold’s no good here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You murdered Saint Sibyl.” He pointed at the poster pinned to his shop’s wall. “We’ll get to you sooner or later. For now—get lost.”
I didn’t start a scene. Just turned around and walked out.
“The NPCs are freezing us out,” Lance confirmed. “Two new shops opened besides the main one and none of them will sell to us. Everyone on the street’s giving us side-eye. Even the solo players are getting bold. One of our rookies respawned away from the rest of us and got jumped—they tried to drag him off to city hall.”
“Where?”
“The mayor’s palace. It’s called the city hall now… Like in Europe.”
“Never been. Wouldn’t know.”
“You’re a real savage,” Lance laughed. “Anyway, screw their sanctions. The Groover girls can still buy whatever we need. But it is annoying.”
There were 23 people still stuck in the game after the recent crash. They were holed up in The Bedtime Story and the devil only knew what was happening in there. I’m sure MosTech’s omniscient cameras could peek inside, but I didn’t have access to those. That was total bullshit and I planned to change it someday—but right now, I had to work with what I had.
I wasn’t planning to go in. My first encounter with Tolyan and Vasyan—Modest’s bodyguards—had been enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if the temple, which already felt like a nightclub, had turned into some kind of dungeon fit for raiding.
That’s why I had mentioned Yumi when arguing with the executives about the people stuck in the game. At least she was alone. And I’d even managed to kill her once. Now, however, I was realizing I’d underestimated the task.
There were more straylings in the streets. Stripped of Modest’s security services, they were jumpy at first. The spider cult quickly culled the weaker ones. Lolf’s children were feasting today.
The smarter ones ran to us for protection, however. Thankfully Lance’s greed overrode his aggression and he began sending the strayling defectors en masse to the Eternal Groove Faction, which had by now become our logistical branch. Now we had crowds of weavers harvesting silk, picking herbs, farming low-level mobs, all under the watchful eyes of our grumpy Yamabushi.
After our coup in the city, we got two craftsmen: the blacksmith and the tailor. SaintMount proved cooperative. As for the tailor? It took him three respawns to become convinced that his “Whisperer bros” weren’t coming to save him.
The trading system in the game was still primitive. Players mostly bought gear from shops. But the crafters were leveling fast and starting to make decent-quality items.
“We need to scout the nearest mountains for ore,” Lance said, watching a line of Groovers head out with big baskets to farm cocoons. You could spot the rookies right away—no flashy silks, just coarse woolen robes.
“Planning to become a slave driver now?” I laughed. “Need your own mines, do you?”
“All human wars are fought over resources,” Lance said without flinching. “First you seize them, then you hold them.”
Lance was in for the long haul. And me? I wanted out of this game as soon as possible. Once we figured out how to pull people out, the beta test would be over. They’d shut the whole thing down and wipe this lunatic server. Or maybe just freeze it and keep watching as the NPCs level up on each other. For science. So I nodded along while Lance laid out his plans for resource domination, but my mind was elsewhere.
HOW CAN I GET YUMI OUT OF THE GAME?!
And, first things first, how do I even find her?
A head-on assault on the palace was out of the question, and for stealth, I needed experienced infiltrators. In my clan, only Shugga had any real skill and there were two other newbies who had some basic training. I’d had high hopes for the defectors from Shiloh’s crew, but they hadn’t panned out. After getting crushed, the sneaks managed to save their alchemist, make a tactical retreat and take over a block of buildings in the squalid part of town. They were holed up there now.
The first trio of spider priestesses who ran into them got ambushed. One got ganked immediately. The other two had the “stress” worked out of them slowly and thoroughly before they were strangled with the Whisperer’s signature cord—the preferred form of offering sacrifices to their deity.
Theophilia swore vengeance, saying she’d wipe out the thieves and feed the Whisperer Himself to Lolf. She surrounded the block of slums but didn’t attack. Instead, her spider girls began summoning endless waves of nasty creatures: spiders, crab-scorpions, even giant centipedes animated by Lolf’s magic. They threw themselves into battle for their summoner mistresses. It was a slow tactic—but effective. The respawn circles were packed with sneaks too scared to step outside the safety dome. Anyone who did ended up wrapped in a neat web cocoon.
Theophilia didn’t ask for help and I wasn’t in a rush to offer any. Grinding Whisperer hoods sounded tempting, but territory grabs needed strength too—especially when the spiders weren’t underfoot.
“Did you hand over the photos I took?” Theophilia asked in the chat.
We hadn’t spoken or seen each other since yesterday and she seemed concerned.
“Yes, why?”
“Shiloh’s here!”
I froze, trying to process this unexpected bit of news.
“Are you sure???”
“I’M FUCKING LOOKING AT HIM!”
What did this mean? Modest was back in the game…? Had the Master believed him? Had he forgiven him his “harmless pranks?” Was he going to blame everything on Dovner? The dead don’t argue. Or… I didn’t want to think about it, but the thought wouldn’t leave me alone: Why was I so sure I could trust the Master anyway?
“Lance, get everyone who’s free! We’re hitting the sneaks!”
Despite all his bravado, Lance had discipline. Once he accepted me as leader, he didn’t question orders. His underlings might grumble, but he ran our clan like a true war machine.
“Shugga, T-Rex!” he yelled. “Form up!”
He paused to issue commands in chat, but I was already sprinting ahead. We reached the sneaks’ block of slums in under five minutes.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” A little spider girl blocked our way. “Those are our kills!”
I silently flashed my katana. Her own crew hissed at her and pulled her aside.
The alley was a mess. The sneaks were holding their own against the monsters. Spiders were dying by the dozen under the AoE spells. The centipedes’ armor was getting shredded by stealth crits, stacked with backstab and surprise bonuses. The Whisperer’s kith moved like strobe lights—appearing, vanishing and reappearing again elsewhere.
Lance struck first—Charge! His body slammed into a wiry sneak fighter. The guy went flying, hit the ground and Lance finished him with a single crit.
Shugga vanished—then reappeared behind another sneak. Squish. A three-edged stiletto drove right into the base of the hood’s skull.
BRRRONG! BRRRONG! T-Rex pounded his shield, drawing aggro. Idiot. Every monster still standing turned and swarmed him. He was the dumbest in Lance’s squad by far.
I sprinted forward, avoiding combat for the time being and concentrating on the character names above the players’ heads: MuniVator… ÜberSlipper… Valet… IShatOnYourTube… Shiloh… Shiloh, fuck!
Among the identical cloaks, I almost missed him. Shiloh stood far back in the street, watching me. He saw me too. He lifted his hood and I saw his round, pudgy face. No mistake. That was fucking Modest Slonimsky—the guy who almost got tossed into a steel furnace just yesterday.
Modest smirked—and phased into stealth. Fuck that! Death Dust! One of the two new divine spells the game granted me yesterday.
A cloud of fine gray sparkles swept out in front of me. Perhaps I was the only one who could see them. In the haze, I saw Shiloh’s figure like an invisible man outlined in raindrops. Dash!
I struck instantly and his health dropped to yellow. But he didn’t stop or fight back. He darted away, zigzagging like a rabbit! When we reached a side alley, Shiloh finally turned around. He was smiling. Too pleased for a cornered rat.
