Darling of Fate 3: A LitRPG Apocalypse Adventure, page 9
The Champion with the boar snout must have sensed them because he twirled around and pulled a giant shield from his inventory. It must have been six feet wide and ten feet tall, and he anchored it in the ground, protecting his companions even as my buzzing disks crashed into the metal with echoing clangs.
I fired three more disks, aiming them straight toward Turok and his allies. They flew in low and fast, timed perfectly with Frank’s wave of frost. Their feet were frozen to the cobblestones mere moments before my disks were on target. But before they could hit, a blinding sphere of light exploded from Turok, sending my disks flying off and burning away Lacy’s illusions. A moment later, one of Amos’s pigeons nosedived for Turok’s face, but Boar Snout managed to get his shield repositioned, and the tiny bird bounced off the metal and hit the cobblestone.
“Lala!” Amos shouted. As he started to race toward the fallen pigeon, Jerome grabbed him by the back of his collar and threw him to the ground. “Get yer fecking hands off me, mate!”
I desperately rushed to fill my diskslinger, pushing all the energy into the main slot to accelerate the reload. With the illusions dispelled, Turok and his companions turned towards the real versions of my party down on the street below. I felt Fate guiding me in that moment and I leaped off the roof, using Red to help me glide towards the three Champions. Lighttouch’s attention snapped from Jerome and Amos to me as I flew through the air toward them. He raised a finger, preparing his beam of light ability, even as I pressed the trigger and fired off a disk straight for his head.
There were no words between Red and me, the magical cape just knew exactly what I needed, exactly what my Fate energy was telling me to do. At the last possible second, the cape relaxed, and my glide turned into a heavy fall. A beam of cutting light whizzed right over my head as I clattered to the cobblestone below. Through my Friction core, I felt the disk connect with the alien and begin sawing through flesh and bone before losing its momentum. I could tell it had done damage, but the job wasn’t quite finished.
I was back on my feet in a moment, my diskslinger reloading subconsciously, even as I pulled the katana from my inventory. When I looked at Turok Lighttouch, his face was a rictus of pain, and I could see my disk had nearly separated his right arm at the shoulder. The tentacle-faced alien began to chant something in a language the System didn’t translate. The sky turned orange, and when I glanced up, in the distance, I could see flaming balls of light falling from the clouds onto our position. At that moment, a sound split the air, beautiful, majestic, and ear-splittingly annoying.
“HONK!”
The tentacle-faced alien only had a split-second’s warning before Lex raked his beak across its face. The flaming meteors in the sky went off course in the alien’s distraction, crashing into random spots across the Hold. Boar-Snout pulled his massive shield in tight, made a growling sound deep in his chest that I felt through the cobblestone, and then charged me shield first.
I had a single disk loaded up, and I fired it up to angle around the shield, but it was moving too slowly. The wall of metal approached me at a dead sprint and normally would have been an intimidating prospect, but I had never stopped cycling the Fate energy, and I could see all the possible decisions I could make, the repercussions, the rippling effects, and I was able to act in an instant.
I leaped into the air, just barely clearing the ten-foot height of the shield. At the same time, Red gripped onto the top of the shield as the boar-faced alien continued charging past where I had been a moment earlier. The whipshot effect of Red holding onto the shield threw me onto the alien’s back. He snorted, reaching up with his free hand to try to pull me free, even as I angled the katana to saw through his neck. He had no leverage, and with the bulky shield on his left arm, I knew there was no way he could dislodge me before the steel did its job.
I finally dropped the Fate energy, needing my Friction energy to enhance the sawing motion of my katana into the side of his neck. The blade sliced through the top layer of his fur and skin effortlessly, and the alien squealed pitifully. Dark blue blood splashed against my chest, even as I continued sawing back and forth. The boar-alien dropped to a knee, and just as I was about to slice through his esophagus, a shout rose up from behind me.
“Stop!” Turok yelled. “Enough, we yield.”
I stayed my hand but kept the katana wedged between the boar-alien’s clavicle and neck. In my left hand, another disk formed in the diskslinger, and I turned to aim it at Turok. “You think this is a game?” I yelled back. “You think you get to just call mercy and that’s the end of it?”
Both of his hands were pointed at me; light formed at the tip of his fingers, but did not get any brighter. “You may kill us,” he called back, “but you would surely die as well.”
I hesitated, trying to force my heartbeat back into a steady rhythm, bringing my thoughts down from the high of that life-or-death fight. I let the Friction energy go and began cycling back up the Fate energy. I wouldn’t put it past Turok to try to catch me off guard, and the Fate energy would let me know ahead of time.
If he tried anything, his boar friend was getting the luau treatment.
The afterimages of Fate were playing across my vision even as I stared at Turok. They moved at regular speed and I couldn’t accelerate their pace. If I wanted to watch how the fight would play out, I’d have to sit here for however long to see all the possible outcomes.
Somehow, I doubted Turok would sit by and let me Dr. Strange the whole thing.
Still, I pressed my luck, watching the possibilities play out as Turok stared hard at me. Boar-shout died in the first few seconds and I managed to dodge Turok’s retaliatory light beam. I pulled up the giant shield, forced to switch to my Mass core to bump up my Strength. Using the pilfered shield, I was able to block all the incoming light beams and go on the offensive.
Which was when I saw it.
Turok switched tactics, aiming toward Lacy and Frank, who were exposed. The tentacle-faced alien stomped Lala to death incidentally, even as I rushed to intercept another light beam with my new shield—sorry Amos!
Lacy and Frank managed to dodge, thanks to another illusion, and I wondered if maybe a fight was for our benefit after all. Though it would shatter Amos, losing a pigeon in exchange for splitting the experience of the three Champions across the party was an acceptable trade.
Though I was on the verge of following through, decapitating Boar-snout and kicking off round two, I continued to watch the fight play out. I needed to be sure.
“Well?” Turok demanded. “Will you parlay?”
Just another minute, dammit! But I felt the eddies of the afterimages begin to shift the longer I waited. By glimpsing the possibilities, I felt myself being corralled into fewer and fewer options. It was becoming clear that if I stalled too long, the choice would be taken out of my hands.
In the last moments of the vision, I saw a beam of light clip Lex’s wing, and I knew my decision was made.
I let go of the boar alien’s fur and hopped off its back. It clamped a furry hand to its neck to stem the bleeding, though I knew at its level and Stage that it wasn’t a mortal wound. I turned to regard Lighttouch, letting my diskslinger aim low, though I didn’t store it away. The glow coming from his fingers dimmed and then dissipated.
Boar-snout went to rejoin his leader, but I barred his path with my katana.
“Not so fast, pig boy. I want to hear what your boss has to say for himself first.”
The alien glared at me with his beady little boar eyes, but he looked weak from the blood loss, and the memory of me sawing through his neck a minute earlier was obviously still fresh in his mind.
“At ease, Kundar,” Turok commanded. He turned to me, arrogance and respect mingling in his eyes. “I see I underestimated you and your kind. Can I assume that was your hand involved in the vermin taking over Astrid’s stronghold?”
I nodded and half-lifted the diskslinger. Kundar, the boar-faced alien, flinched and I gave it a wry smile. “She underestimated me, too,” I said casually. “So I gave her the D.” I deposited my katana and gave the Soulbound weapon a loving pat.
Behind me, Byron snorted humorously. We all turned to look at him and his face reddened. He took a step back and literally put his hand over his mouth as if to contain himself. I winked to let him know he was fine, then turned back to Turok with a straight face.
“Let’s talk terms of surrender,” I said simply.
Turok’s eyes narrowed. “I was thinking more along the lines of an alliance.”
That wasn’t the answer I had wanted, so I lifted the diskslinger and pointed it at porky. “You and I have very different understandings of the words, ‘we yield.’”
Light began to form on his fingertips again, and I tilted my head and gave him a disapproving tsk. “You sure about that?” The triple disks buzzed ominously in their slots, mere inches from his friend’s face.
Sudden movement behind me nearly made me flinch-pull the trigger. It was Amos stumbling past me toward Turok and the tentacle-faced alien.
“Amos! The fuck?” I shouted.
“She’s hurt,” he called back, his words slurring. “Lala, daddy’s coming—”
Turok moved without hesitation, sweeping Amos off his feet and repositioning him as a body shield. His finger was pressed to the drunk man’s temple, the telltale glow of a building beam of light shining at the end of his pointer.
“Don’t you fucking do it!” I shouted, pressing the diskslinger right against Kundar’s neck.
Amos was bucking against the alien’s grip, but he didn’t even have the Body Boon to give him some oomph. He was just an out-of-shape middle-aged man with a drinking problem. Beside him, Tentacle-face bent down and scooped up Lala, sending him into an apoplectic fit.
“Get yer feckin’ hands off ’er.” Spittle flew indiscriminately as his face turned an alarming shade of crimson.
“Amos, Amos!” I shouted. “Chill the fuck out and shut up!” His eyes whirled on me, clouded and completely void of any rationality. “You want your fucking pigeon, then shut up and let me handle it!” The unbridled rage shifted and a semblance of clarity returned. He glanced toward his pigeon one more time, his face slipping from rage to concern in an instant.
“What are you proposing?” I asked Turok. Lacy, Byron, and Frank approached me from behind, breaking from their cover now that it seemed the fight was over. I gave them a distracted nod but turned my attention to Turok and the Fate vision. I had lost focus for a single moment and Amos had nearly ruined everything.
I couldn’t let that happen again.
“An alliance,” Turok replied. “I will sign a Soul Contract if you desire.”
My thoughts turned over and over. An alliance with the only remaining hostile faction of the Hold was good—ideal, even. But how far could we take it? Would the Champions continue to force-conscript others? Would a Soul Contract hold up if it came down to us or them? And then there was the question of his Quest. Was he a prop in this twisted play like Astrid and Yuri? He had to be, right?
“We would consider an alliance,” I started. His shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, his grip on Amos loosening a smidge. But what I said next had his eyes wide and his composure shattered.
“Before that, though, I want to see the conditions of your Quest…and you’re gonna tell us a little story. The story of why you signed up to join the Tower.”
Chapter 11
Not Another Soul Contract…
“What? How could you possibly know about that?” Realization dawned on Turok’s face. “Did Astrid tell you?”
I shook my head. “Not Astrid. Hiko and Yuri. They filled me in on the conditions that you lot get when you decide to sign up for the Tower.”
I debated with myself on how much to tell him. Unlike with Hiko, who was someone that I could almost trust, I knew I couldn’t trust Turok at all. To be honest, I trusted Yuri more ever since he lost his memory of our battles. But I noticed a look across Turok’s face. Was that longing, maybe even desperation? Rather than offer up information, I waited to see if I was reading his reaction right. Sure enough, his next words were filled with unmasked desire.
“Please, tell me what they said.”
Even though my guess had been correct, I was still surprised at the sheer longing in his voice. I hesitated, trying to determine how much I should tell him, how vague I should be. But when he saw my uncertainty, he shoved Amos away.
“Here, take him,” he said desperately. “Please. I must know. I’ll do anything you ask.”
At my side, Kundar gasped in shock. “Turok, what are you doing?” he demanded. “They’ll kill me.”
Unfortunately for Kundar, it seemed like Turok didn’t give a shit. His eyes bored into mine with an uncomfortable intensity, and I began to realize why he was so desperate.
“You don’t remember anything,” I said. “Before the Tower, I mean.”
His face twitched—all the answer I needed. I pursed my lips and nodded.
“Okay, Turok, I think we can come to an agreement.” Using the flat of my katana, I prodded Kundar to join his friends. The boar-faced alien looked at me in confusion for a moment before picking up his shield, placing it in his inventory, and walking back over to Turok and the other champion.
Kundar had a defeated posture as he approached, and I saw Turok’s face soften. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he said gently, “but you know how long I’ve been here, how long I’ve waited with no answers. I must know.”
Kundar’s shoulders slumped, and the creature nodded once. “I understand, old friend. I don’t blame you.”
Turok placed a hand on his shoulder, met his eyes, and nodded once. “Thank you, Kundar.” He turned back to me with a steely-eyed determination. “Please, I’ll tell you whatever I know. Come to any arrangement you require. I just need to know what you heard.”
“Before I tell you anything,” I said, “we need to sign a Soul Contract right here, right now. You and the rest of the Champions will no longer be allowed to conscript any more Climbers.”
His face dropped immediately. “We must meet our quota.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why do you have to meet a quota?”
“If we don’t, we’ll not go to the next floor. We’ll be out of this Tower, forced to wait many years, possibly centuries, until our rotation comes up again. They’re not so cruel as to keep us awake for the entirety of our purgatory, but we do have to stand by for the duration of the Climb. In my experience, it’s five to ten years of nothing, twiddling our thumbs to the side.”
“I see. And what is your quota, exactly?” I asked.
“The bare minimum—” he started, but cut off as the tentacle-faced alien stepped to his side.
“Turok,” he hissed. “The restriction.”
Turok’s eyes shifted up for the briefest moment, then turned to his friend. “Damn the Restriction. This is the best chance we’ve had in 300 years, Aladar. What’s a little pain in the face of that hope?”
The alien named Aladar sighed, stepping back. Turok looked at us, Frank, Byron, Lacy, Jerome, and Amos at my side, then stepped forward. The others tensed, but I saw what he intended to do through Fate’s power.
Dropping to one knee, he bowed his head.
“I cannot promise not to recruit. Not meeting the quota would banish us to a fate worse than death. But I promise not to recruit any of your race in exchange for some answers.”
A notification appeared in my vision.
Turok Lighttouch has offered a Soul Contract:
Condition 1: He pledges not to recruit or forcibly conscript any Climber of the human race for the duration of this Tower Climb.
Condition 2: He pledges not to engage in hostilities against you or those designated as part of your party.
Counter-Party Condition 1: In exchange, the Counter-Party swears to answer his questions pertaining to the Cultivator known as Astrid Black-Eye, the Cultivator known as Watcher Yuri, and the Cultivator known as Mother Hiko for the duration of this Tower Climb.
I studied the contract, reading through it a few times. I knew better than most that there were untold loopholes in a Soul Contract, no matter how ironclad you thought it was. But while this Soul Contract was interesting, it wasn’t quite what I was hoping for.
“First of all,” I said to Turok, “you can stand. I know we were just fighting, but I’m not interested in having anyone kneel before me.” Surprise registered on his face for a split second, and then he gave a respectful nod as he rose to his feet.
“Second,” I continued, “I didn’t say you couldn’t recruit anyone. I said I didn’t want you to conscript anyone. As long as you’re honest about the Boons you offer and the ramifications of joining your faction, I won’t bar you from speaking to anyone. Now, I would prefer if you signed on the Jree, as I had hoped to recruit most of the humans and the Co’xatl to my own faction, but I’m beginning to understand the fuckery of this Tower and the contracts its inhabitants are forced into, and believe it or not, I am sympathetic.”
Behind Turok, Aladar and Kundar exchanged a look that I couldn’t quite read. I continued anyway.
“Now, I don’t know what role the factions will play on the Second Floor or even higher. I’m hoping we won’t be pitted against each other. In all honesty, I’d rather us form an alliance than try and cut you out at the knees. The more of us Climbers and the native Tower inhabitants working together, the better.”
“I’m grateful to hear you say that,” Turok said. “But unfortunately, the one truth of the Tower, the one concept that runs through the arteries of this place, is also the name of its creator.”
