《Julius Caesar. Magic Warlord.》 Ch 1 - Those about to die… Mark looked at the gun aimed at his head. It was so close that he could see a scratch on the barrel. Then his eyes moved back to the monitor, where the Counter-Strike match was still happening, where his avatar stood motionless. Useless. He hated himself for even looking at the computer at a moment like this. He hated that he was still sweaty and tense from the focus, the adrenaline of the tournament. He forced himself to look back at the man with the gun. The only light in the room came from the computer monitor, and in that darkness, he could barely see the face of the man threatening his life. Was there some sadness in his eyes? Maybe their friendship wasn¡¯t completely over? Mark thought that he could beg. He could cry and whimper and beg for his miserable life. And it would probably work. But all he said was: ¡°Fuck you.¡± And those were his last words before the man pulled the trigger, and Mark fell from his chair to the floor, feeling as if he had received a powerful punch to the chest. The shot had seemed very loud in the small room. And in the following silence, the only sounds he could hear were his chair rolling away until it hit the wall, and the loud sound of his computer working at full power. And the damn match. Still happening. A new round had just started. He could hear the distant shooting from the speakerphones. Mark looked at his hands, now covered in blood, with a pang of regret he realized he was still holding the mouse. He let it go over the growing pool of his own blood. He didn¡¯t feel any pain, but when he tried to take a breath, he started to choke. His heart was beating wildly. The man crouched and approached the gun until it rested on Mark¡¯s forehead. Mark could feel the warmth of the barrel on his skin. From the computer he heard shouts from his teammates asking him where the hell he was. Telling him that they were being slaughtered. He saw the finger on the trigger slowly pulling back¡­ He could start to feel the agonizing pain in his chest. ¡°Fuck y¡ª¡± he started to say.
Then he found himself surrounded by strangers, with the open sky above them. There hadn¡¯t been any movement. Any apparent break in continuity. One moment he was in the darkness of his room, waiting to be murdered, and now he was in a beautiful field of grass, feeling the warm sunlight on his skin. If he focused, he could still feel the small pressure of the barrel of the gun resting on his forehead. But there was no longer a gun, and the feeling was slowly fading away. There were hundreds of strangers around him. And they seemed as confused as he was. A man of similar age¡ªearly twenties¡ªlooked at him with wild eyes, and asked: ¡°What¡¯s happening? Where¡¯s my family? Did the volcano stop?¡± Mark didn¡¯t care. ¡°Fuck off, dude,¡± he answered, jerking the hand of the stranger away from his arm. ¡°You¡¯re dead, I¡¯m dead. Let¡¯s not make it each other¡¯s problem.¡± And he took a few steps away from the crowd, looking at the glorious sun, at the massive white clouds slowly moving through the blue sky, at the beautiful green field extending for miles, until it reached a magnificent forest full of massive trees. He felt as if he was awakening after the longest slumber. Did the past few years really happen? The crimes, the violence, the last months of reclusion and emptiness¡­ did they happen? Or was it all just a strange dream he would soon forget? It felt as if everything was slipping farther and farther away. He was awake now, and life was a colorful wonder. He took a cautious breath, fearing the pain in his chest. But nothing hurt, and then he took a deeper breath, and it was glorious to fill his lungs with air so pure. It was unlike anything he had ever known¡ªcrisp, untainted. Real. More real than the stale odor of a room he hadn¡¯t left for the last two weeks. Exhilarating. A gift. The most glorious gift. His eyes filled with tears, and he started to walk towards a small hill near the crowd. What better place to fall to his knees, and thank God for his generosity? Because this had to be Heaven. Somehow, God had considered him worthy of salvation. He wasn¡¯t religious, not really. But lately, he had been having the same nightmare over and over; he kept imagining that he died and faced the final judgement, and God towered over him carrying a massive bag, and started throwing over him all the gifts he had received, telling him with thunderous voice: ¡°look, look, at all the things I gifted you: a loving family, good friends, a healthy body, a keen intelligence, opportunities, so many opportunities! So much potential! So much that you could do, and what did you do with it all? How dare you come to me knowing you wasted everything I ever gave you? I despise you. You are no child of mine¡±, and after passing judgement, he would condemn him to an eternity in Hell. A continuation of the hell he had built for himself in life. ¡°Thank you, God, thank you,¡± Mark murmured while he continued to walk up the hill, looking at the beauty that surrounded him, ashamed because he knew it was a gift he didn¡¯t deserve, ¡°thank you, thank you¡­¡± He reached the summit and fell to his knees, tears already falling down his face. He lowered his face against the ground. ¡°Thank you, thank you, thank y¡ª¡± And then he looked up. And he saw that on the other side of the hill there were thousands of men¡­ no, millions of men, divided into small crowds, with about a couple of hundred yards of distance between each group of men. There should have been a massive amount of noise. But all those million of men were standing there in absolute silence. The silence was so complete that he could listen to the soft flapping of some birds flying overhead. An army of angels?, he thought for a second with the beginning of a smile on his lips. Then he focused on the closer group. They were near enough for Mark to see their faces. Their expressions of terror. The strange clothes they were wearing. Their swords and shields and maces and axes shining under the sunlight. Those are no angels, he thought. They were tall, blond, with powerful bodies. They seemed like¡­ Vikings? He was close enough to see a man at the edge of the group, raising a massive axe and hitting something lying at his feet, over and over. His face contorted with fury while he bellowed something Mark couldn¡¯t hear. A red mist of blood covered him while he hit again and again the mangled body of the man he had murdered. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Soon, the whole group of Vikings revolted and started attacking each other in a bloody, brutal melee. It was surreal. He heard somebody shouting at him from behind. ¡°You, asshole! Will you come back? You¡¯re totally giving away our position!¡± Mark tried to force himself to stop looking at the silent, brutal carnage happening in front of his eyes. But it was too fascinating. Those men were attacking each other with reckless abandon. One man continued to swing his mace even after losing an arm; another ripped someone¡¯s throat with his teeth; another thrust his sword through the eye of a man who had raised his arms as if to beg for mercy, and then proceeded to start cutting apart the head. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me, dude?¡±, a man asked from behind Mark, after having gone up the hill to reach him, ¡°you cannot¡­ you cannot be¡­¡±, he was gasping a little from the small effort of running up the hill, then he saw the brutal carnage happening at the other side of the hill, ¡°Holy fuck¡­ I knew it was going to be¡­ But still¡­¡± ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± said Mark, now looking at other groups of men from farther away. There were thousands of groups the same size as the crazy Vikings. He had never seen so many people in a single place. And some names were starting to appear over the crowds. It was a floating sign that he was somehow seeing, even though he knew it wasn¡¯t real. Right above each formation; it included a standard on the left, and a name on the right¡­ ¡°Those names¡­¡± Mark whispered, ¡°those names¡­¡± ¡°They are the names of legends,¡± answered the other man, having caught his breath. ¡°All of them are legends. Or at least, they are supposed to be.¡± Mark recognized many of them. Napoleon. Nobunaga. Genghis Khan. Sun Tzu. Leonidas. Xerxes. Washington. Julius Caesar. Alexander the Great. From the height Mark enjoyed, he could see that some groups were starting to organize themselves in military formations. No group of soldiers had yet engaged in combat with another group of soldiers. Any violence that had occurred until now had been limited to fights within groups. But Mark knew it was a matter of time until the violence extended. He could already see the soldiers of some formations eyeing with distrust the soldiers of other formations. For the first time, Mark focused on the man standing next to him. He was tall. Blond. A little overweight. He had an accent from some nordic country, maybe Sweden. He could have been a direct descendant of the violent Vikings down the hill, who were still hacking at each other with gleeful abandon. Only instead of spending his life engaged in pillaging and murdering, he had spent his life in front of a computer, eating donuts and listening to Human Resource ladies talking about whatever Swedish Human Resource ladies talked about. Some bullshit, probably. ¡°What the fuck is happening?¡± Mark asked. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m going to explain right now,¡± answered the Viking-that-never-was, ¡°but first I¡¯ll get the attention of everybody else; we don¡¯t have time to explain this twice.¡± They both looked at the group of strangers they had appeared with. It was obvious that it was different from the other groups. It was smaller than the others. If the average formation seemed to have about two thousand men, this group probably had less than a thousand. Most groups were exclusively formed by men. In this one, there were some women¡ªthough they were a minority, making up roughly one in twenty. Sometimes in life you saw a man, and something in his face, in his expression, made you know that he did something dangerous for a living. Maybe he was a cop, or a soldier, or a criminal used to getting his way by killing the competition, but you just knew he was dangerous. That he was used to violence. Almost all the men Mark could see on the other side of the hill fit that description. And barely none of the men in the group he had appeared with fit even remotely with that description. They all seemed¡­ normal. Normal people. They were wearing simple clothes that had a certain medieval feel, with coarse fabric, and simple dark colors, but it felt more like people doing cosplay than somebody truly used to wearing those clothes. All the men on the other side of the hill had weapons. Some of them, like Genghis Khan¡¯s Mongols, were riding horses. Very few of the people in Mark¡¯s group had any weapon. Even their reaction to the situation was different from the one in the other groups. Most of the groups on the other side of the hill seemed to be divided between those who had started hacking at each other with passion and those who had achieved some sort of discipline and were already organizing into formations. In Mark¡¯s group, the reaction had been different. There wasn¡¯t any semblance of discipline, but nobody had truly hurt anybody. A few nervous breakdowns had happened; some people were still crying. And a few fights had started and been swiftly stopped by the people around. One of the fights had been between two young men, both carrying swords at their hips. They had exchanged some awkward punches, probably the first ones they had thrown in their entire lives, and neither had seemed to even consider drawing their swords. The man standing next to him looked at the crowd, and he seemed to have frozen. The domesticated-Viking, as Mark had decided to call him, was pale, his eyes a little wide with fear. Mark could understand. He had never liked speaking in front of a crowd. He remembered freezing up while giving a presentation in college, barely managing to repeat in a monotone and broken voice the talk he had memorized. That was before he had dropped out to pursue a short-lived criminal career. But he seemed to have received a new opportunity. A new chance to amend his mistakes. He wasn¡¯t going to start it with cowardice. Also, he wanted answers. ¡°Everybody!¡± Mark shouted at the top of his lungs. ¡°Shut the fuck up! This man right here has all the answers you want!¡± He pointed to the man standing next to him. The crowd started to shush each other until there was silence. They looked up at them from the foot of the hill. Some seemed skeptical. Others seemed ready to get those answers with violence. The man standing next to Mark looked a little taken aback. Maybe he had expected a couple of extra seconds to collect his thoughts? ¡°What?¡± murmured Mark. ¡°You do have the answers, right?¡± ¡°I mean¡­¡±, the man covered his mouth with a hand, ¡°Not all the answers¡±. ¡°Oh¡­¡± Mark looked at all those people now paying them all their attention. How fast could a group like this turn into an angry mob? ¡°No. It¡¯s okay. I have been preparing for this moment for the last few months,¡± whispered the man. Then he advanced a couple of steps and extended his arms in a welcome manner, ¡°Hello! Welcome to Terastes, the Forsaken World!¡± The crowd stayed silent, and Mark could understand. From their perspective, they were in a beautiful heaven, all the chaos hidden behind a hill and completely silent. It didn¡¯t help that a pretty bird with red feathers started chirping gleefully. The shame-of-all-past-Vikings continued: ¡°If you are here it means you have been chosen. You have been given a new opportunity.¡± Mark could see some hopeful smiles starting to appear. Somebody fell to his knees, probably to thank God. Mark remembered the man hacking another one to pieces with a massive axe. Enjoy that while it lasts, sucker, he thought. Mark had already realized that this new opportunity would come with some costs. It didn¡¯t surprise him. He had realized a very long time ago that nothing in life was free. And the deconstructed-Viking continued: ¡°The gods of this world have given you an opportunity to serve in my army. I will be your general. You will be my soldiers. And under my command, we will defeat the greatest generals in history to conquer this world!¡± He kept his arms extended. A hopeful smile on his face. Is he expecting an ovation?, thought Mark, because this is not going to go the way he expects. The crowd¡¯s disbelief and confusion were quickly turning into anger. One of the clumsy fighters, his eye already swelling with a bruise, had realized that being armed was actually a pretty useful thing, and he had drawn his sword. The metallic whisper of the sword leaving its sheath sounded very, very loud in the peaceful field. And Mark realized that if he didn¡¯t do something fast, he could be facing the choice between running to the other side of the hill and joining the Viking axeman for some fun, or trying to convince the mob that he was totally with them and joining in the lynching of the poor bastard standing next to him. ¡°Everybody!¡± Mark exclaimed, ¡°He could be saying some truth! On the other side of the hill there are some armies and maybe some famous generals!¡±, then he thought for a second, and amended his already very heavily noncommittal statement. ¡°Not that I¡¯m with him or anything, of course! I don¡¯t trust him either!¡± he added, hoping to keep open the possibility of joining the lynching to escape. Immediately, people started to walk up the hill, curious to see what was on the other side. The not-much-of-a-general, not-much-of-a-Viking standing next to Mark was having none of that. He started shouting with his heavy Swedish accent: ¡°No! No! You¡¯ll reveal our position! They will kill us all! Trust me! Don¡¯t peek! Don¡¯t peek!¡±. Ch 2 - The Meme That Defined an Army ¡°You are putting us in danger!¡± insisted their would-be general, trying to convince the crowd to stop walking up the hill to watch the armies on the other side. ¡°Don¡¯t peek! Don¡¯t peek!¡± The crowd ignored him. Obviously. And talked among themselves while walking up the hill. The talking stopped very fast when they reached the top. Somebody fainted and had to be caught before he rolled down the hill. Mark wondered if the axeman was still going on with his shenanigans. He pushed past a few people and looked down¡­ and yes. The axeman was still hacking at the body. Or whatever remained of it at this point. It¡¯s kind of sad to be resurrected into another world just to be used as a fucking chopping log by some crazy dude two minutes into it, Mark thought. ¡°That¡¯s Julius Caesar,¡± somebody said, pointing at a formation a couple of miles away. ¡°What?¡± somebody else asked. ¡°How do you know?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you see the name-tag over him?¡± Apparently, some people didn¡¯t have the ability to see those names, although it seemed to be slowly reaching everybody. Suddenly, the words of the bootleg-Viking had a little more weight. And people obeyed when he begged them to walk down the hill, so the soldiers on the other side wouldn¡¯t continue seeing them. Soon the questions began, and they managed to get a more complete picture from the off-brand-Viking: ¡°Yes, the gods of this world brought back the greatest generals from Earth, and their chosen warriors, to compete trying to conquer the world.¡± ¡°Are you a general, then?¡± ¡°No. I don¡¯t have a military background.¡± ¡°So why would you be chosen along with the likes of Napoleon and fucking Genghis Khan?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a reason. But we don¡¯t have time to discuss it.¡± ¡°What did you do, back on Earth?¡± ¡°I was a web developer.¡± ¡°What languages? Were you full-stack?¡± ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t see the relevance.¡± ¡°Why were we chosen as your warriors? We¡¯re not your warriors. I¡¯m not your warrior.¡± ¡°Well, you were part of my Counter-Strike clan. Or had been part of my clan at some point. Each general got to choose two thousand of their greatest soldiers. Counting current and past members, our clan had a total of seven hundred and sixty-five players. So I picked every single one of you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not great.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a disadvantage, yes.¡± ¡°So there were no choosing criteria, apart from joining a fucking gaming clan?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°How can the leader of an online clan be considered on the same level as somebody like Alexander the Great?¡± ¡°I already said I don¡¯t want to get into it. Not now. As some of you know, I reached international¡­ repercussion, for a very brief period of time.¡± That comment got some suppressed laughter. There seemed to be a story behind the so-called international repercussion. The would-be-general got a little defensive and added, ¡°The god who chose me as his general considered my fame as enough to qualify.¡± The questions continued. A young man with a face marked by acne scars raised his hand. ¡°I don¡¯t remember joining your clan. Could this be a mistake?¡± ¡°We once held a raffle for new members. We were gifting a new, customized computer that looked like the Batmobile.¡± ¡°Okay, sorry. I did join your clan. Actually, I¡¯m kind of curious¡­¡± The young man looked around him. ¡°Did somebody actually win that computer? Raise your hand if you did.¡± Nobody raised their hand. Mark grimaced a little. That particular scheme had been his idea. He looked at the man with the Swedish accent standing at his side, and felt like the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place. ¡°I fucking knew it was a scam,¡± said the young man with acne scars. ¡°Yeah¡­ sorry. We needed new members to join an online tournament. Any other questions?¡± A woman raised her hand politely. ¡°Yes?¡± asked their would-be general. ¡°What¡¯s your actual name?¡± asked the woman. ¡°Because that name-tag is making me crazy.¡± ¡°Oh? I didn¡¯t say? My name is Johan. And the name-tag, most of you know where it comes from.¡± Mark focused on Johan, the not-really-a-Viking, and realized that he, like the other generals, also had a name-tag that could be seen above his head if you focused. The name-tag said that his name was ¡°ILoveFurries007¡±. And the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. Mark shouted: ¡°I knew it! I knew I recognized your voice! Johan, dude! It¡¯s me! I¡¯m Mark!¡± Even while the questions were being answered, there had been some talking among the people in the crowd. Now, everybody stopped talking and looked at Mark, who kept speaking, oblivious to the silence. ¡°So we totally lost that match, right? That¡¯s why you got that name-tag, right? I remember that stupid bet you made. You would win that tournament or¡­¡± ¡°Fuck you, Mark!¡± somebody shouted from the crowd. That got some laughs. ¡°What was that?¡± Mark asked. ¡°Fuck you, Mark!¡± someone else repeated. ¡°Fuck you, Mark!¡± yet another person shouted, getting even more laughs. ¡°Show yourself, assholes!¡± answered Mark, trying to find the culprits among the crowd of people extending in front of him. Johan put a hand on Mark¡¯s shoulder. He looked at him with actual curiosity¡ªand a little worry. ¡°You didn¡¯t know we lost, Mark? What¡­ what happened? Why did you disappear in the middle of the match?¡± ¡°Yeah. Tell them what happened, Mark¡­¡± Mark looked at a tall man in his late twenties advancing a couple of steps away from the crowd. Mark recognized him instantly. Dark hair, good looks. An easy, arrogant smile. For Mark, it had only been ten minutes ago. It felt like he had just seen him. But he hadn¡¯t been smiling then. He had been close to tears while he aimed a gun at Mark¡¯s head. His best friend, Arthur. His murderer, Arthur. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Mark was paralyzed for a couple of seconds, looking at his friend. He seemed a little older. And he was looking at him with a melancholic smile¡ªthe way you would look at the picture of an old friend after years without seeing him. For a moment, Mark wondered why Arthur was here when he had never been a gamer¡ªthen he remembered that he had forced Arthur to join the clan when they needed more members to join the tournament. There was no longer the tension and rage of the last few months of Mark¡¯s life, when their criminal enterprise had started to fall apart, and everything had ended with a gun aimed at Mark¡¯s head, with him refusing to do anything more than let himself die. Maybe this was a new opportunity for them to start over? The crowd was waiting for Mark''s answer, so he made something up. ¡°I was killed in the middle of the match,¡± answered Mark, ¡°by some fucking junkie trying to steal my computer to get another meth hit. Probably couldn¡¯t find enough clients in the park to sell his ass to.¡± His friend Arthur looked at him with surprise, and then he laughed, and for a few seconds, he couldn¡¯t stop laughing. Mark smiled, a little worried. There seemed to be some hopelessness being exorcised with those laughs. Then he looked at Johan. ¡°How could you not know?¡± Mark asked. ¡°The police must have investigated. Somebody must have connected the dots! Oh¡­ you¡¯re telling me that fucker managed to hide my body?¡± ¡°Maybe nobody was looking for you?¡± asked Arthur, controlling his laughter for a moment and faking concern. ¡°Did you have anybody in your life who gave a damn if you lived or died?¡± Mark chuckled, very happy. He remembered that banter; he had missed it so much. So he repeated the last words he had said to Arthur just before he had pulled the trigger and murdered him: ¡°Fuck you.¡± ¡°No. Fuck you, Mark!¡± somebody else shouted, breaking the moment he had been having with his best friend, and getting, again, too many laughs for Mark¡¯s taste. It was starting to get under his skin. ¡°What the fuck is that? Who is saying this?¡± he shouted to the crowd. Their would-be general, Johan, smiled with some fondness. ¡°After you disappeared and made us lose the tournament, we started a little tradition. We said fuck you, Mark, over and over, as a sort of inside joke. You know, somebody would complain that it was raining in his city, and finish by saying, and fuck you, Mark. Or we would congratulate each other at Christmas and add, and fuck you, Mark. Or end a gaming session by saying, good night to everybody¡­ and fuck you, Mark.¡± ¡°Okay¡­¡± Mark answered. It was pretty brutal to learn that was how he had been remembered by his online friends. ¡°How long did you keep doing this?¡± Johan smiled. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t know¡­ We made that joke until the literal end of the world.¡± Mark blinked, and Johan continued. ¡°A year after your death, a supervolcano in the Pacific Ocean erupted. It didn¡¯t kill humanity¡­ at least not immediately. But the earthquakes. The tsunamis. The slow poisoning of the atmosphere¡­ It eventually wiped us out.¡± Johan continued: ¡°I still remember our last group chat, with everyone saying: Fuck you, Mark, before logging off.¡± ¡°It was beautiful,¡± he added, with an honest, wistful smile. ¡°Hating you really brought us together¡­¡± he said, putting his hand on Mark¡¯s shoulder. Then he seemed to remember what they were doing. He shouted again at the crowd. ¡°Wait! We don¡¯t have time for this! In a few minutes, the battle will begin. Any last questions?¡± ¡°How come we¡¯re on the other side of the hill, hidden from the others?¡± somebody asked. ¡°We generals resurrected a few months before you did, and I managed to convince the gods so they would offer us a little extra help, considering the circumstances.¡± Mark tried to imagine the Johan he knew, with his strange mix of shyness and arrogance, and his funny Swedish accent, making a compelling argument to some literal gods. ¡°How did you do it?¡± Mark asked. ¡°You know¡­ people skills,¡± Johan seemed a little offended. ¡°I¡¯m not useless.¡± ¡°So you convinced actual, real gods with your people skills?¡± ¡°Ok. I begged, I kneeled, I groveled, and I cried. I might have peed myself a little. But I won¡¯t confirm it, so you don¡¯t lose all respect for your daring leader. Anyway, I did anything I could so they wouldn¡¯t kill us as soon as we arrived. It really didn¡¯t help much with my reputation among the other generals, by the way. Bunch of assholes. All of them.¡± ¡°Why would you do that?¡± asked a man from the crowd. ¡°Now everybody will think we are easy pickings!¡± They looked at the man who had said that. Short. Fat. Pale and with acne, in his early twenties. His head had a weird shape. Maybe from spending too much time with headphones pressing the top of his skull. And his eyes expressed an insecure and sensitive soul that seemed veryeasy to hurt. ¡°No offense, dude,¡± answered Arthur, still smiling but having controlled his laughter. Mark could see his friend was already calculating, positioning himself within the group. He had walked a couple of steps up the hill to be better seen by everybody. ¡°And I swear I have never been a bully. But even I feel like giving you a wedgie. We were easy pickings, in any case. And you, Mark? Being killed in a home robbery and letting your buddies down is just cuck behavior. Shame on you.¡± Some people laughed at that. They were all very nervous. And this familiar banter seemed to be helping them keep some modicum of control. To Mark, being called a cuck for having been killed in a home robbery by the actual man who had killed him felt more reasonable than whatever the hell was happening at the moment. Somebody else repeated the ¡°Fuck you, Mark!¡±, and it got a few laughs again. Arthur ignored it and continued talking. ¡°I actually have another question, Furry Lover.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t call me¡­ Bah. What do you want?¡± Arthur unlatched a frying pan from his hip. ¡°How come this dude,¡± he pointed with his frying pan to the short guy worried about being considered easy pickings, ¡°has a sword and I don¡¯t? I¡¯m literally armed with a frying pan.¡± He raised it to further prove that he was indeed armed with a frying pan. Johan approached him rapidly, his face decomposed with fear. ¡°DON¡¯T WAVE THE FRYING PAN AROUND! IT COULD DESTROY US ALL!¡± Arthur threw it to the ground as if it were a snake. And looked at Johan. ¡°Really?¡± Johan looked at him, now with a deadpan face. ¡°No. And you should listen to me because I know what the fuck is happening, and you don¡¯t know shit. And time is running out.¡± Silence. A chuckle. Another. A few nervous laughs. Even Arthur laughed eventually, although Mark could see his eyes had gone cold. ¡°Sure,¡± Arthur said. ¡°Could you answer my question?¡± Johan looked at him quietly, and some instinct seemed to tell him not to push Arthur any more. Hey, maybe he does have some people skills¡­, thought Mark. ¡°Which question?¡± Johan asked. ¡°Why don¡¯t we all have weapons?¡± ¡°Oh, yeah. They gave me some choices on equipment, and I decided to get as few weapons as possible.¡± ¡°Ok? I mean¡­ Is there a reason for that? Or did you decide to beat the game in hardcore mode?¡± ¡°Of course there¡¯s a reason. But there¡¯s no time to explain.¡± ¡°And what criteria did you use to divide the weapons?¡± Arthur looked again at the short man, whose face was completely red from all the attention. ¡°Because it doesn¡¯t seem very reasonable.¡± ¡°I used no criteria whatsoever. I don¡¯t know you guys in real life! How can I know who will be better armed with a sword or a bow? Or, you know, a frying pan?¡± ¡°Not completely reasonable. But okay, I guess.¡± Mark heard many people complaining about not having a weapon, about the absurdity of it all. Johan continued, raising his voice above the murmuring of the people. ¡°Okay, okay. For all of you not fully committed to this, I wasn¡¯t going to say it, but if you¡¯re not happy with this resurrection, you can let those soldiers kill you, and you¡¯ll get to yet another world where you¡¯ll be surrounded by hundreds of beautiful women. All for you. So please walk in that direction.¡± He pointed to the hill and the many armies getting ready to kill each other. ¡°If possible, make us gain some minutes so we can get into the forest.¡± He pointed to the forest that surrounded the field they were in, a couple of miles away. ¡°Actually, the more minutes you gain for us, the more women you¡¯ll receive.¡± One of the women in the group shouted: ¡°What happens to the women of the clan? Don¡¯t we get to go to paradise?¡± ¡°This is your paradise!¡± shouted back some guy. ¡°Don¡¯t you see you¡¯re surrounded by beautiful men?¡± ¡°The men are on the other side of the hill, loser. Here I only see some gamer boys dressed in cosplay.¡± ¡°Is the paradise thing for real?¡± asked some other guy, who looked at the other side of the hill as if he was actually considering charging the other armies. ¡°What do you think, dude?¡± somebody else asked. ¡°What? Don¡¯t act as if you know the rules better than anybody else! It could be real!¡± Johan raised his hands to get everybody¡¯s attention. ¡°Wait, I don¡¯t want to have your deaths on my conscience. It was a joke. There¡¯s no other life; at least that I know of. If you die now, you go back to being dead. For all eternity.¡± ¡°How do you know? We resurrected once. Maybe we can do it again!¡± ¡°I actually asked the gods. We got one life. This one. If somebody dies, he¡¯s not coming back. The god I asked actually called me a useless, ungrateful brat for even asking.¡± ¡°Maybe he lied?¡± ¡°Of course he lied. I¡¯m not useless.¡± ¡°You know what I meant.¡± ¡°Yes. And I¡¯m not entertaining this,¡± answered Johan. ¡°Even if he lied, I want everybody to make a very simple thought experiment. Think about all the great people in history, the ones who changed the world with their deeds, the ones who accomplished things that ended in history books, the ones who truly managed to stand out among all the billions of people who ever lived. And ask yourself this: Will I be chosen among them¡­ Twice?¡± That made people sober up a little. Johan finished up. ¡°Okay, okay, let¡¯s say one last fuck you, Mark, for the good old times, and then we focus on surviving this fucking thing.¡± ¡°One, two, three¡­¡± And every single one of them voiced it together: ¡°Fuck you, Mark!¡± Mark rolled his eyes and raised his middle fingers toward them. He would have to do something about that, or it would get very old, very fast. He was about to respond when he felt some words deep in his mind, in his very soul. [Kilser the Traitor Unlocked ¨C Horsemen of the Apocalypse] [Level 1 Unlocked] [You are hated by everybody. Even your allies. There isn¡¯t a single being in the world who doesn¡¯t curse your name. You embody one of the twelve horsemen of the apocalypse, Kilser the Traitor. Hated even by his peers for his cruelty and lies.] [Traitor¡¯s Premonition unlocked] [Phantom Presence unlocked] ¡°Wait¡­ what?¡± Mark asked. And a metallic gong sounded from the heavens, so powerful that it resonated in the bones of every person in the field. A few seconds later, a powerful wave of wind reached them from the sky, terrifying the horses in the field, throwing some birds to the ground. And just like that, the greatest battle in history began. ¡°I didn¡¯t understand what the plan is!¡± somebody shouted. ¡°Oh, fuck!¡± answered Johan. ¡°I forgot to explain?¡± Ch 3 - I’m tired of running… The greatest battle in history had just begun. As soon as the metallic gong had exploded from the sky, the veil of silence had been lifted; whatever had kept the armies from each other had disappeared, and now they could hear the actual sounds of battle, of millions of men moving around, shouting orders, screaming in pain, and the clash of weapons being used to kill other human beings. The greatest battle in history had started¡­ and they were running away from it. Fast. As fast as possible. That had been the great plan of their would-be General, Johan ILoveFurries007. ¡°We¡¯ll run away as fast as possible from all the fighting and killing and dying. Then we¡¯ll come up with another plan when we¡¯re safe¡±. It had been a simple plan. A little underwhelming. But Mark had to concede that it was properly compelling and well-received. Johan had run down the hill, through the still-paralyzed crowd, and towards the distant forest, a couple of miles away. For a few seconds, everybody had watched him getting away in a clumsy half-running/half-walking fashion. Then almost everybody had hurried to follow him. Very few people were stupid enough to stay and watch a battle raging a few hundred yards away from them. Mark was among those chosen few. Arthur, his best friend and murderer, was also among them. Mar was lying on the ground near the top of the hill, peeking into the battlefield below. A few yards behind him, on the side of the hill hidden from the battlefield, he could hear Arthur trying to convince some guy to exchange his sword for Arthur¡¯s frying pan. Concretely, he was trying to convince the guy he had threatened to give a wedgie to. Unsurprisingly, he wasn¡¯t having much success. ¡°I¡¯m not giving you my sword!¡± said the guy with the sensitive eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t want it for myself.¡± ¡°I¡¯m. Not. Giving you. My sword,¡± repeated the man, clutching the sword¡¯s hilt. ¡°Ok¡­ What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Why¡­¡± ¡°Just tell me your name.¡± ¡°Tobias,¡± answered the short man, suspiciously. ¡°Hello, Tobias, my name is Arthur. I was cruel when we were all talking. I was nervous, but that is no excuse. I apologize for my comments¡±, he looked at him seriously, ¡°I mean it. I apologize. But you do know what having a weapon means, right?¡± The short man looked at him, confused. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Having a weapon means you have a duty to protect the people who are unarmed. Having a weapon means you¡¯ll have to wait behind while others make a run for it. Having a weapon means you could be risking your life in bloody fucking battle two minutes from now. Are you up to that, Tobias? Are you honestly up to that?¡± The man took a few seconds considering it and eventually unsheathed his sword and gave it to Arthur, who said: ¡°Thank you. Courage takes many forms. There¡¯s no shame in what you just did¡±. Then they crawled up the hill and joined Mark and about a dozen more at the top of the hill, peeking into the battlefield. The axeman, who Mark could now see was very aptly named Erik Bloodaxe, was trying to resist with the few men he had against the charge of a better-organized army led by a general named Jugurtha. Mark realized that if he focused on the names, he could find out more information about them. He didn¡¯t have to read it. It was as if he could feel it emerging from deep within his soul, as if the information had always been there. [Erik Bloodaxe - Viking King] [10th-century Norse king, known for his ferocity and ambitious conquests. He killed several of his brothers to gain access to the throne. Erik ruled as king of Norway briefly before being deposed and later became king of Northumbria in England. He was eventually betrayed and killed in the Battle of Stainmore]. [Jugurtha - Numidian King] [Born into Numidian royalty, he managed to take the throne through cunning and assassinations. A master of realpolitik, his strategic use of bribes kept Rome at bay, exploiting its political corruption to maintain power]. Mark kept looking around. It was incredible to see so many armies maneuvering, fighting with each other, making temporary alliances to destroy another army, and then succumbing to attacks on their rearguards when their new allies betrayed them. Generals were being killed almost every minute, and each time one of them was defeated, a powerful metallic gong sounded from the sky, announcing their defeat. Some armies were completely dominating their enemies. Mark saw how some general called Gaius Marius fell, trampled under the hooves of a Genghis Khan¡¯s Mongol charge. Genghis Khan lowered himself in his saddle and cut the head of the defeated general, parading it to his cheering men. The most famous generals, though, seemed to be surviving this first battle. Julius Caesar¡¯s square formation was maneuvering with discipline between battles, avoiding any direct conflict, apparently trying to get away from the chaos. [Julius Caesar - Roman General]. [Born into a patrician family, Julius Caesar rose to power through military genius and political maneuvering. He expanded the Roman Empire through the conquest of Gaul, and his defiance of the Senate and crossing of the Rubicon led to civil war and his rise as dictator. He was betrayed and assassinated. When he died, the Roman Republic died with him]. Genghis Khan¡¯s Mongols were now riding away from the trampled soldiers of Gaius Marius, towards the battle between Erik Bloodaxe and Jugurtha. Those two generals, seeing the charge coming, tried to maneuver away, but there was nowhere to hide. Some of their men actually went flying when hit by the powerful charge of the horses. Most were simply trampled over. Erik Bloodaxe killed a horse and the Mongol riding it with a single brutal swing of his massive axe, and tried to resist the slaughter with a few loyal men. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "So what do you think?" asked Arthur, giving his back to the battle and looking for a moment at the slow crowd of gamers getting away from them. "Should we join the others, or try to make it out on our own?" Mark turned his head to look at the marching crowd of gamers. They hadn¡¯t gotten very far. Many of them were in poor shape, and everybody had to wait for the slower members of the group. It would take them only a few minutes of running to catch up with them. ¡°You were never interested in gaming or the clan, so you never talked to Johan,¡± answered Mark, looking at his old online friend. ¡°But he is intelligent. Kind of weird. And obsessed with true-crime shows. But he can have moments of true brilliance¡­ I think the first challenge of all the generals was getting their soldiers ready to act in only a few minutes, after being awakened in a new world, when just an instant before they were dying back on Earth. It could have gone as badly as it did with Erik Bloodaxe down there, but Johan at least managed to get everybody moving¡±. He looked towards his old online friend. Johan was leading the way towards the forest, shouting encouragement, trying to start everybody singing a marching song, and being rejected with jokes and derision. He noticed Mark was looking at him from the distance and made a gesture asking him to come. ¡°So Johan made a pretty good job,¡± Mark continued, ignoring the gesture of his friend. ¡°We were one of the first armies to move. They will get to safety¡±. ¡°Except we are not an army. And we didn¡¯t get ready to fight, just ready to run away. And he was lucky everybody decided to gang up on you with jokes of fuck you, Mark. He was losing them¡±. They both turned around to continue watching the battle. Erik Bloodaxe parried with his massive axe the saber of a mounted Mongol and managed to cut down one of the rear legs of the horse, making the Mongol fall to the ground. The Mongol scrambled to get away, but the Viking king killed him with a single swing of the axe. Erik Bloodaxe howled his triumph, raising his bloody weapon towards the sky, as if he were defying the gods themselves. And then he was hit on the back by another Mongol rider, the horse trampling over him. Mark felt strangely disconnected from everything that was happening a couple of hundred yards away. "Still, it¡¯s not bad," he said, "Johan saw the opportunity and took it. And in any case," he added, "I¡¯m unarmed, and you only have that sword. So I doubt we would get very far alone. And from my perspective, you murdered me like fifteen minutes ago, so I don¡¯t feel very comfortable just walking into the sunset with you." Arthur rolled his eyes and raised his arms with mock exasperation. "Sure. Be like that. All vengeful and petty," he said, and then smiled and patted him on the shoulder, "it''s good to see you again, Mark. I missed you. Life was a little bit more boring when you were gone." ¡°How did the whole business with Tito end?¡± Arthur shrugged. ¡°When the volcano started, the end of the world began; and I decided to go out with a bang. I declared war to that fucker. And eventually, I destroyed him.¡± He smiled at Mark, and it was the smile you would see on a wolf before hunting down its prey. ¡°I actually fulfilled one of my dreams: I burned my phone. My ID. Everything that tied me down. And after I became nothing more than a shadow¡­ I went on a fucking rampage. Not against Tito: against his entire organization.¡± ¡°You killed them all?¡± asked Mark, incredulous, trying to remember how many people were in Tito¡¯s organization. ¡°The government trained me for this kind of urban warfare, and the circumstances were right: the police had better things to do than stopping criminals from killing each other. So I had time to pick them up one by one. Some I killed up close. Others I just killed with a rifle from a distance, or approached them with a gun and shot them in the back of the head while they were walking in the park¡­ So much blood¡­ So much needless suffering¡­¡± He seemed sad, melancholic. But Mark looked at him and knew the truth without any doubt. ¡°You loved every second of it, didn¡¯t you?¡± Arthur looked at him very serious, almost hurt. And then broke the charade and smiled. ¡°It might have been the greatest time of my life. You wouldn¡¯t believe the excitement of hunting down some dude through a forest.¡± ¡°And Tito?¡± ¡°At the end, I had him bleeding out of a bullet wound on the leg, tied to a chair. I had fantasized about making it slow and painful, but I guess I didn¡¯t have it in me. I was exhausted¡­¡± ¡°You let him go? That dude, after what he did to us?¡± ¡°What? No. Of course not! I just shot him in the stomach and let him bleed out. Painful. But fast enough. Then I spent my last months at a cabin in the woods, waiting for the end.¡± ¡°How did you end up dying?¡± ¡°You know me. When the air got poisonous enough, I just put a gun to my mouth and finished it myself¡±. ¡°Did you suffer?¡± ¡°Before the bullet? Immensely. My lungs were slowly filling with blood, at the end.¡± ¡°That¡¯s nice¡­ It does comfort me a little¡±. Arthur chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m glad it does. Now being real¡­ You know you forced me to do it, right? I begged you to work with me. And you left me no other option.¡± Mark ignored for a moment the battle raging in front of him, and he focused on the open sky above them. He took a really good look at this beautiful new world he had gotten into. And he remembered the last months of his life, disillusioned with everything. His life of crime hadn¡¯t been the adventure he expected. No excitement to be had, just an ugly sin that had forced him to surround himself with traitors, cowards, and small, greedy bastards. He remembered the gray depression, the kill order given by Tito. He remembered hiding in a rented apartment and waiting for the end. And something pulsed within him. And for a second, he was transported to another place, to another moment. And in front of him was an army of dead, millions of them, trying to destroy a city carved of white marble. Then he felt another pulse rushing through him, and he witnessed a massive dragon roaring and spitting a jet of flame that destroyed the mounted knights trying to kill it. Then he was back in the present. Back in that beautiful field. ¡°My friend¡­¡± he said, his heart still beating fast, still feeling the adventure of the images he had witnessed, ¡°You¡¯re right. We¡¯re in a new world. Together. Fuck the past. Let¡¯s enjoy this.¡± ¡°Now you¡¯re talking. I think some of those Mongols are coming for us,¡± a couple of mongols had disengaged from their fight with Erik Bloodaxe¡¯s Vikings, and after spotting the gamers at the top of the hill, they were starting to ride towards them, ¡°I¡¯ll let you choose. Should we fight? Or run away?¡± Mark thought about it for a second. They could probably avoid being hunted down by the Mongols; there were a dozen other gamers who would be slower, easier pickings than they were¡­ But he didn¡¯t turn around to run. Instead, he unsheathed a dagger from the hip of a young man who had started to retreat, running away with the rest of the gamers who had been witnessing the battle. The man protested, but Mark ignored him and took a step forward, towards the coming Mongols. He liked the feel of the weapon in his hand. Its weight. And something deep within him demanded the thrill of the battle. ¡°So what, Mark¡±, Arthur insisted, a smile on his lips. ¡°We¡¯re not running?¡± Mark took another step forward. He remembered hiding in that apartment, covering all the windows with tape, and waiting in that darkness. Playing video games for days on end while he waited for death to come. Hoping it wouldn¡¯t take long. Then he smiled. ¡°Nah. I¡¯m tired of running¡±. Arthur laughed and walked next to him. He moved the sword around, getting a feel for its weight, its maneuverability. ¡°God, I have missed you¡­¡± Mark took another step forward. Whatever was inside him was pulsing with more strength. He felt as if his whole body was burning. He took another step. And he saw a mad king laughing uncontrollably while his empire burned. Another step. And he saw a furious god destroying a city with its own bare hands. Another world. A glorious opportunity. The speed of the two Mongol riders was barely reduced by going up the hill. Their faces were contorted with fury. They shouted a war cry. Their curved swords were raised above their heads, ready to cut them down. Mark could feel the pounding of the hooves over the soft ground of the hill. More metallic gongs kept sounding from the sky, as more generals were murdered. And it seemed as if the gods of this world had gone crazy with the blood spilled. It was a crescendo of sound that demanded more. More blood, more violence, more death. Mark thought about the voice he had heard. His supposed special class¡­ [Kilser the Traitor - Horsemen of the Apocalypse]. And the two Skills he had received. [Traitor¡¯s Premonition], [Phantom Presence]. Somehow, he knew whatever was pulsing within him, giving him those strange, amazing images, was the [Traitor¡¯s Premonition]. It was strange, but he could feel the Skills within him. Like breathing. Like raising a hand. Or moving a foot. He knew they were there, and he knew he would be able to use them without thought. And he really, really wanted to use them. The Mongols were only a couple of yards away... Mark remembered his first instinct when he had arrived in this world. And he realized it had been the right one. He smiled, and his smile was pure, joyous. And he said one last time. ¡°Thank you, God.¡± And prepared to fight. Ch 4 — First battle against two Mongol riders Mark moved to the left to avoid the Mongols charging. Arthur moved to the right. The Mongol that decided to focus on Mark made a quick slash towards him with his saber, and Mark had to jump away, slipping a little on the grass of the hill. The Mongol¡¯s reach was longer than he had expected, and he only avoided being grazed with the saber thanks to the small padding of his clothes. For almost a minute, Mark moved around the riding Mongol, his dagger ready, trying to find the weak spot of his enemy. But he couldn''t find any. His dagger was too short. The Mongol made sure to position the horse so he would always have the reach on Mark, and he never allowed him to move to the back or the front of the horse. Even his slashes were calculated not to give Mark any opportunity to attack back. After one very open swing of the saber, Mark tried to jump in and close the gap, and only a certain look in the Mongol¡¯s eyes warned him of the backswing that followed, which Mark only narrowly avoided by jumping back and falling on his ass. The Mongol tried to trample over him, shouting and spurring the horse with his legs. Only the fact that the horse slipped a little on the inclined terrain of the hill protected Mark from certain death. Then Mark found himself just running around, changing directions constantly, keeping his distance from the Mongol that was pursuing him. Safe as long as he maintained the distance, ready to jump away, and didn¡¯t lose his footing in the inclined terrain of the hill. But unable to attack in any meaningful way. He looked at Arthur, about twenty feet away, also trying to maintain some distance from his enemy. He too had to run around, but he was a bit more aggressive, parrying with his sword some of the Mongol¡¯s slashes, feinting to thrust towards the Mongol leg or the horse, but not yet daring to commit to an attack, also fearing getting too near the range of his enemy. And the Mongols knew what they were doing. They had stopped shouting when they realized they weren¡¯t intimidating their enemies. And now they were serious, focused on their grim purpose. The Mongol made a few maneuvers trying to corral Mark towards the foot of the hill, where the horse would have an easier footing and Mark would be easier to hunt down. Mark avoided that by ducking under one of the Mongol¡¯s horizontal slashes and running backward up the hill. The Mongol pursued, and Mark, having the high ground, saw the opportunity to kick the horse in the muzzle and at least scare it a bit. But the Mongol spurred his horse and pushed towards Mark, who made some quick steps back, almost losing his balance and slipping on the ground¡­ ¡°Mark!¡± he heard Arthur yelling, now behind him. But something had already awakened within Mark. A warning. An instinct. Even divided, the Mongols had been working together, and the Mongol that had been focusing on Arthur was now behind Mark, ready to finish the trap his comrade had set up. The Mongol slashed his saber towards him with a victorious yell, and something within Mark told him, without looking back, that the slash was vertical; he felt it like a shadow tearing through his body from above, so he jumped to the side and narrowly avoided the attack. He could feel that the Skill [Traitor¡¯s Premonition], after pulsing within him like an intense fire, was now burning down quickly until it was barely a memory. [Traitor¡¯s Premonition] was apparently a passive Skill. And it was now discharged. He wouldn¡¯t get another warning. Both Mongols spurred their horses towards Mark, trying to finish the job. And Mark surprised them¡ªand himself¡ªby throwing his dagger towards the head of one of the horses, barely nicking it, but hurting it enough to spook it and make it rear up, its front legs kicking. Mark took advantage of the distraction by running towards the out-of-control horse, escaping from the other Mongol rider, ducking to avoid the swing of his saber. In a fit of overachievement that left for lying bastards everybody who had ever called him a loser without ambition, he even tried to dismount the Mongol riding the uncontrolled horse, and was rewarded with a nicely placed knee to the face. ¡°Sorry!¡± shouted Arthur. ¡°The motherfucker got away from me.¡± Mark got up from the ground, having fallen to his ass after the kick. He looked at his friend. Arthur was getting up after picking something from the ground. Their ambush failed, the other Mongol rider went back to harassing Arthur. Mark managed to get his dagger back, after running towards it while the Mongol finished calming his horse, which was bleeding a little from the muzzle, and snorting forcefully. And the cat-and-mouse game started again. They were in a terrible position. The only reason Mark and Arthur still hadn¡¯t been killed was that this wasn¡¯t their first time in a life-threatening situation, so they were capable of doing the basics: keeping their distance, not freezing up with fear, and avoiding slipping down in the increasingly muddy terrain, after all the trampling of the horses. Those were enough to keep them in the game. Alive. But not enough to win. Not enough to make a difference. It¡¯s only a matter of time until we die, thought Mark, feeling a little bitter. So many things to explore, a whole new world to discover, and he was about to die right at the beginning? He had been postponing it as much as possible, because it was a crazy gambit. Maybe the craziest thing he had ever done. And he would only have one opportunity to do it. But [Traitor¡¯s Premonition] had actually been useful¡­ So why not trust his other Skill? The Mongol rider was coming for him, again raising his saber. Only this time Mark didn¡¯t move away. He actually took a step forward. He hit his chest with a fist, his blood burning. ¡°Come fucking get me!¡± he shouted. ¡°Let¡¯s fucking do it!¡± How much of it was an act? Not even he knew. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The Mongol smiled, thinking his prey had finally given up. He spurred his horse, raising his saber. The horse approached, only a few feet away... The Mongol lowered his saber, delivering the finishing strike¡­ Mark waited as the diagonal slash came towards him. And then he reached within himself, in a hidden part of his soul he had never before known existed, and activated his Skill: [Phantom Presence]. And the saber cut through him, brutally tearing through his body. But there was nothing there. And the Mongol lost his smile and his balance when his saber cut through empty air. And Mark deactivated his Skill as he grabbed the Mongol by the shirt to lower him enough from the horse so he could thrust the dagger into his throat. And he was dragged a few feet by the still-moving horse, while being covered in the pumping blood of the man he had just murdered. When he let go, he looked towards the other Mongol rider, who had lost focus by watching his comrade being taken down¡ªand now was hit in the head with the rock Arthur had picked up from the ground. The Mongol tried to hold on to the horse, having lost one of the stirrups, his head bloody, but Arthur got to him almost immediately, ready to cut him with his sword, and the Mongol let himself fall from the horse, where he was defenseless, and still on the ground he slashed the air with his saber to try to keep Arthur away. But his movements were no longer precise. He had been stunned by the rock, and then by falling from his horse. And Arthur didn¡¯t hesitate. He jumped in after the Mongol¡¯s slash, and he thrust his sword towards the Mongol¡¯s belly. The Mongol managed to sneak away from the thrust, and Arthur let go of his sword, and after blocking the Mongol¡¯s arm holding the saber, he started beating the face of the Mongol with his fist. Over and over. He was bigger. Stronger. And the Mongol lay still on the ground after the first few punches. Arthur kicked the saber from the hand of the Mongol, and then focused on beating him with both fists, again and again, without mercy. His eyes barely flinching while he destroyed the other man¡¯s skull. He only stopped when Mark arrived walking towards him. Arthur¡¯s fists and forearms were covered in blood, and he was breathing hard. When he realized his friend was waiting, and the Mongol was unconscious with his body convulsing weakly, Arthur reached towards his sword, and with a fluid gesture put the tip of the sword on the chest of the convulsing Mongol, and tired after all the effort, he let the tip of the sword fall down towards the heart, helped with the weight of his own body. Mark watched how the body of the Mongol spasmed for a few seconds before lying still. ¡°Fuck, that was exhausting¡­¡± murmured Arthur, putting his feet on the Mongol''s chest so he could pull his sword from the body. It took him some effort. He was breathing very hard. ¡°Well¡­ get ready for more,¡± Mark answered, also breathing hard, and looking up towards the top of the hill. The fight had taken them to the bottom of the hill, on the same side where they had appeared when they had resurrected. But they were no longer alone. The end of their fight had been witnessed by about twenty Mongols standing on their horses on the top of the hill, their horses snorting and tossing their heads, nervous from all the noise. The Mongol soldiers did not seem happy after having seen their comrades being murdered. Apart from the Mongols, their fight had been witnessed by some Roman legionaries that had just circled the hill, and were keeping their perfect formation while they looked at Mark and Arthur. Mark focused on them for a moment and saw that they were from Julius Caesar¡¯s army. One of the Mongols at the top of the hill nocked an arrow and pulled back the bowstring of his composite bow in an elegant, fluid motion. We¡¯re dead, Mark thought. Nowhere to hide from twenty Mongol riders with sabers and bows. But the Mongol slightly raised his composite bow and shot towards a much more distant target. Mark followed the arrow, having to turn around to look at where it landed. The gamers that had stayed to witness a few minutes of the battle had tried to run away when the two Mongol riders had charged towards them. But the Mongol archers didn¡¯t allow them to escape. The path towards the distant forest was littered with their bodies. About ten of them were lying still, dead. And only two gamers seemed to still be alive. One of them was on the ground, moaning and crying, with an arrow in his stomach. The other was still running, about three hundred yards away. And after flying for a few seconds, this last arrow took him down, hitting him in the back. The only gamer remaining was Tobias, with the frying pan. He hadn¡¯t run and was now standing a few steps away from Mark and Arthur. He answered their silent question: ¡°I realized they were picking us apart from the distance. And I didn¡¯t want to die while running away,¡± he said with a shaky voice, leaning down to pick up the saber of the Mongol Mark had killed, ¡°so I stayed¡±. The Mongols and the Romans seemed to be at a standstill. The Mongols were looking at the Roman army, which outnumbered them. The Romans had started moving a small detachment towards Mark and the others. But they were approaching hesitantly, worried about a possible Mongol charge. Mark wondered why the Romans didn¡¯t just ignore them and kept moving to disappear into the forest, which seemed to be their objective. What was the point of risking their lives to kill them? ¡°I think I prefer to die fighting,¡± Tobias continued talking, looking at the two armies and walking to stand next to Mark and Arthur, the saber trembling, ¡°With a weapon in my hand.¡± Arthur looked at him for a couple of seconds. Then he said: ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Tobias seemed suspicious. He probably hadn¡¯t forgotten the wedgie comment. ¡°I already told you my name.¡± ¡°And I didn¡¯t care then. I care now,¡± Arthur answered, passing the sword to his left hand for a moment to extend his right towards Tobias, offering a handshake. The man extended his hand and took Arthur¡¯s handshake with hesitation. ¡°My name¡¯s Tobias.¡± Arthur spent a couple of seconds in silence, still holding the handshake, looking deeply into Tobias, as if memorizing his face. And eventually said: ¡°It¡¯s an honor to die next to you, Tobias.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ Thank you, same to you, Arthur. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s also an honor.¡± Mark, who had been looking at the two armies getting ready to destroy them, rolled his eyes, too used to Arthur¡¯s bullshit. His best friend liked to hold a firm handshake while looking deeply into your eyes as if he were suddenly seeing you for the first time. And then he loved to say something ¡°honest¡±, a ¡°tell-it-how-it-is¡± statement about how special you were, about the incredible worth he saw in you. It worked great with women, who loved to be told how special they were by the beautiful, dangerous man. It also worked painfully well with insecure men. Mark hated to remember a time when they were both children, and he had fallen for Arthur¡¯s bullshit and absurd sense of self-importance. Who gives a fuck about what you consider an honor, asshole? Mark thought. He glanced towards Tobias, and yes, he was fucking shining from the compliment. His whole body shook, probably completely unaccustomed to the adrenaline pumping through his veins. But his eyes were decided. He would prefer to die than to betray the magnificent, brave image of himself Arthur had made him glance at. Ten minutes ago, Arthur was threatening to give him a wedgie. Now he is a true believer in the Arthurian Church of Bullshit. Then they waited. They waited for the charge that would kill them all, not knowing if the Romans or the Mongols would get the privilege of taking their lives. ¡°The thing about the beautiful women waiting on the other side¡­ Did we reach some conclusion on how likely it was?¡± Mark looked at Tobias, surprised and a little disgusted that he would focus on something like that at this moment. And then he realized that Tobias was pale and terrified, but still trying to put on a smile. The guy was facing certain death. A gruesome death. And he had tried to make a joke! Mark laughed. Maybe there was something to this Tobias after all. And he answered: ¡°It was inconclusive. But probably true. That¡¯s what I heard anyway¡±. ¡°If I get less than a hundred women for this bullshit,¡± answered Tobias, his voice shaking, and gesturing at the Mongols getting ready to start their charge, ¡°I¡¯ll totally file a complaint.¡± Then the Mongols started to charge down the hill. The Romans'' detachment had started running across the hill towards the gamers¡­ It was like a competition to see who would get the privilege of killing them. Thirty seconds for the battle to begin¡­ ¡°Arthur?¡± ¡°Yes, Mark?¡± ¡°When you murdered me¡­ You know I totally could have taken your gun, right? And then make you my bitch. I just didn¡¯t want to see you die of embarrassment.¡± Arthur chuckled. ¡°Sure. Tell yourself that,¡± he answered, looking at the powerful mounted charge coming towards them. And they got ready to die. Ch 5 — History is written by the victors The twenty Mongol riders charged down the hill at full speed, their sabers ready to take down the three Gamers waiting at the bottom of the hill. The charging formation was organized like a spear, with five riders leading the attack from the front. Mark felt the power of the charge on his bones, the ground beneath trembling under his feet. It was overwhelming. Terrifying. He felt as if a train was moving at full speed toward him, and it would flatten him, no matter where he tried to run. We are dead, he thought. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to escape. His two Skills were exhausted. The charging Mongols were unstoppable. His luck was over. ¡°Ready¡­ Hurl!¡± The hoarse shout came from the Roman detachment, now about eighty feet away. And a rain of javelins flew towards the charging Mongols. The air was suddenly filled with the piercing shrieks of the injured horses, the screams of pain of the Mongols that had been hit, and the shouts of anger and fear of the Mongols that managed to stay on their mounts. The Mongol charge was broken, especially the left and the center of it, where the javelins had been targeted. And it passed, leaving the gamers uninjured, except for Tobias, who didn¡¯t manage to completely avoid one of the now riderless horses, and was thrown to the ground and almost trampled over. The Mongols at the right of the charge, that had been spared from most of the legionnaires¡¯ attack, kept the inertia of their charge and moved past the Gamers at full speed, advancing farther into the flat ground on the other side of the hill, getting away from both the Gamers and the Romans. The Roman detachment kept moving towards the Gamers. Arthur rushed to help a stunned Tobias up from the ground. And the three young men moved a little to the side, so their laughable defensive line was now facing the approaching legionnaire formation. ¡°What the fuck is happening?¡± Arthur asked, still holding his sword. The Roman who had ordered the javelin attack was approaching them. He was in his mid thirties, with a face sharp and angular, marked by discipline and war. His eyes were determined, and his mouth was compressed with the tension of battle. With a few gestures, he ordered his legionnaires to take position at the back of the Gamers, and Mark realized they were trying to protect them from a possible arrow attack from the Mongols, who were now organizing themselves in the distance, getting ready for a new charge. The commander of the Roman detachment looked at the three Gamers, probably trying to decide who was the leader, and for some reason, decided to focus on Mark: ¡°Are you one of the soldiers of the general ILoveFurries, Seventh of his name?¡± It took Mark a few seconds to process that statement. The centurion had said the stupid gamer-tag of Johan like something he had just memorized, but with absolute respect, as if truly speaking about one of the greatest generals in history. ¡°Yes?¡± Mark eventually answered. ¡°I bear a message from Gaius Julius Caesar, conqueror of Gaul, savior of Rome. Will you listen to it?¡± Mark looked at Arthur, who seemed to be as astonished as him. Tobias was staring at the Roman soldiers with his mouth agape in sheer disbelief. The Roman commander waited politely for Mark¡¯s answer. So Mark repeated: ¡°Yes?¡± The Roman commander nodded and adopted a more informal tone, lowering his voice. ¡°Julius wants to speak in private with your leader. He wanted me to tell you that we don¡¯t have to be enemies. To please reconsider.¡± Mark realized that the Roman, behind his mask of stoic discipline, was as dumbfounded as they were. And Mark couldn¡¯t stop himself, and he answered: ¡°You also don¡¯t know what the fuck is happening, right?¡± The Roman raised his eyebrows with surprise, his mask of discipline broken. Then he laughed. Many of the Roman soldiers, sweaty after all the marching and starting to take position near the Gamers, also smiled. ¡°The world has gone completely crazy, hasn¡¯t it?¡± the Roman commander answered. ¡°One moment I was being murdered after failing to protect Julius in the Senate chamber¡­ And then the old bastard was standing in front of me, younger than he had been in years, with his arrogant smile and a speech about strange gods, and plans to conquer a world that isn¡¯t our own.¡± The commander snorted his amusement and started moving towards the rest of his formation, who were waiting for the now incoming Mongol charge, but he stopped for a moment to add: ¡°By the way, I saw how you took down those riders. Good job.¡± ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m Mark.¡± ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Mark. I¡¯m Hadrian, centurion of Julius Caesar¡¯s legions. Deliver the message. And hopefully, we¡¯ll be allies soon.¡± Mark saw him running towards the front of the formation, shouting orders to his soldiers, who raised their large rectangular shields and waited for the Mongol charge. Moments before the fight, the legionnaires shouted ¡°Roma Aeterna!¡± Then the two small armies clashed with ferocity, the air filled with the clang of steel and the cries of men and beasts. ¡°Time to go,¡± Arthur said, starting to move suddenly. ¡°I¡¯ll try to get the horses,¡± he added, referring to the horses of the Mongols they had killed, that were wandering some distance away, scared from all the noise and chaos. ¡°You get ready to leave.¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. He stopped for a moment and looked at the bloodied dagger Mark was still holding in his hand. ¡°And don¡¯t you dare clean the blood off your weapon,¡± Arthur added. ¡°I know. I wasn¡¯t born yesterday,¡± Mark answered, passing his other hand over his face, where the blood of the Mongol he had killed was starting to dry under the sun. He winced when he touched his right eye, which was already swelling after the kick he had received from the Mongol. ¡°Oh, great. You wouldn¡¯t believe the kind of idiots I had to work with after you were gone,¡± Arthur answered, and then he made a small gesture towards Tobias, telling Mark to take care of the scared Gamer. Mark looked at Tobias, who was paralyzed, still holding the saber he had taken from the dead Mongol. Mark approached him and took the saber from Tobias¡¯ shaking hands. Then he looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention. But Arthur was walking towards one of the horses while he murmured reassuring words. And the Roman and Mongol soldiers were too busy killing each other¡ªthe Mongols had lost their advantage now that they had stopped moving, and they were formed in a small circle, trying to resist the Roman legionnaires who had surrounded them. And the Gamers in the forest couldn¡¯t see them, with the Mongol-Roman battle happening in front of Mark and the others. Mark took a deep breath and thrust the saber deep into the chest of one of the already dead Mongols. Then he returned the bloodied weapon to an even more confused Tobias. ¡°What?¡± Tobias said. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°People will listen to us more if we arrive as fucking heroes with bloodied weapons,¡± he looked to make sure Arthur was far enough so he wouldn¡¯t listen. Arthur had managed to mount one of the horses, and was trying to make it obey his orders to approach the other horse. Then Mark focused again on Tobias. ¡°There¡¯s something you need to understand about Arthur¡­¡± Mark reflected for a second. How much should he share about his best friend? He eventually decided to reveal only a small part of the truth: ¡°Arthur will never accept to become a pawn in somebody else¡¯s game.¡± That¡¯s enough for now, he thought. He¡¯ll find out the rest if he sticks around¡­ Of course, bloodying the saber was a stupid lie. They already had bloodied weapons. The Gamers in the forest had almost surely seen the fight, even if they were too far away to know the details. For god¡¯s sake, they were going to arrive literally riding the horses of their defeated foes. So why do it, then? Why make this useless lie? Mark looked at Tobias, who walked with him with his bloodied saber, having become an unwilling accomplice in a useless lie. Already a pawn in somebody else¡¯s game. Arthur approached them, riding one horse and pulling the reins of the other, and told them to hurry towards the forest. They moved around the Mongol-Roman battle, keeping a healthy distance, and then moved directly to the forest. Mark looked, and he thought he could see somebody waving at them with both hands, telling them to hurry. Then he focused and saw a small name-tag over the person waving, and he realized he could find Johan even from this distance. They moved towards the forest as fast as possible. Arthur riding one horse, Tobias the other, and Mark running next to him, holding the reins so Tobias¡¯ horse wouldn¡¯t stray away. They only stopped a couple of times. Once so Mark could take the scabbard of the young man he had stolen the dagger from. Just a few minutes before, the young man had been full of life, excited to watch the massive battlefield happening in front of him. Now he was dead, killed by an arrow in his back that he hadn¡¯t even seen coming. His empty eyes stared at the blue sky of the world he had just arrived to, unable to explore the mysteries it held. The other time they stopped was to try to help the last Gamer who had been hit by an arrow. Just a couple of minutes ago, he had been screaming in pain. But when they arrived, he was already dead. A deep pool of blood lay beneath him, extending over the green grass of the field. Mark took the small bag the man was carrying on his hip and realized with amazement that it was a holding bag, an actual magical holding bag. It was a little bigger than his fist, but when he looked inside, it had the size of a carry-on bag, with some dried food, a camping tent, and some clothes. ¡°How are we playing it?¡± Mark asked, approaching Arthur. He lowered his voice so Tobias couldn¡¯t listen to them. Arthur had been luxuriating in the warm sunlight caressing his face, and took a couple of seconds before answering. ¡°We play the part of heroes, of course. We fought trying to protect the others,¡± then he looked back to make sure Tobias wasn¡¯t listening. Tobias, now trying to steer by himself the unruly horse, didn¡¯t have time to eavesdrop. And Arthur whispered, ¡°And we¡¯ll find a moment to have a private conversation with the Furry Lover, so we can leverage the meeting with Julius Caesar into more information, and access to decision-making.¡± Mark nodded. Create a reputation to protect yourself, and use information as a weapon to gain control over others. Nothing new. Having a background as criminals did provide a pretty versatile skill set. He approached Tobias to make sure he wouldn¡¯t mess up their plans. Tobias, apart from begging his horse with gentle nudges so it would go to the forest, was also looking back from time to time at the battle between the Romans and the Mongols. The noise of the battle was getting muffled with the distance. Fewer and fewer Mongols were still riding their horses. And it seemed a matter of time until the small Mongol detachment was exterminated. The rest of the Roman army, the part that hadn¡¯t engaged in combat with the Mongols, had already started to move towards the forest, but they were going to enter it a couple of miles away from the Gamers. Mark snapped his fingers to get Tobias¡¯s attention, breaking the trance he had been in while looking at the battle. ¡°What? Is something else happening?¡± Tobias asked, still a little in shock, looking everywhere as if expecting another charge of Mongols to appear from nowhere to kill them. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anybody about Julius Caesar wanting to talk with Johan. We¡¯ll speak with him about it in private,¡± Mark wondered where Tobias had been when they had been fighting the two Mongols, and if he had seen how Mark had used his [Phantom Presence] Skill. ¡°Also, don¡¯t tell anybody anything about our fight with the Mongols.¡° Then he remembered that moments before the Mongol charge, he had said that Arthur had been the one who murdered him: ¡°Actually, say absolutely nothing at all. We fought trying to protect the others. We¡¯re fucking heroes. You¡¯re a fucking hero. Focus on that: You¡¯re a hero.¡± And that was the point of bloodying Tobias¡¯s sable. It was the same thing as protecting the reputation of a guy who froze up in a shootout, telling everybody that he had been brave and taken down a couple of guys. You did that, and suddenly his reputation depended on you. On your goodwill towards him. And he would never forget that. If he saw it as a favor given by a friend, or a chain tying him to you¡­ that was mostly just a matter of perspective. And time. They were reaching the forest. He looked at Arthur, already approaching the waiting crowd of Gamers looking from the tree line. He was still riding his horse, and he greeted everybody with a big smile, waving his bloody sword around so everybody could see it. Mark knew Arthur could be subtle; he could live immersed in shadows and lies. He thrived in them. But if he could choose, he had always preferred the flashy option. Probably not the best for somebody on a criminal career¡­ But it did help when he was throwing parties. Or pumping people up. Some people in the crowd started cheering, and somebody actually shouted: ¡°Fuck yeah! Let¡¯s go back and kill them all!¡± ¡°Also¡­¡± Mark added, looking at the sword Arthur was waving around, and remembering how he had gotten it from Tobias, ¡°never again let somebody take your fucking weapon. Are you crazy? We could have been monsters, waiting for the moment to kill you.¡± Ch 6 – We came. We saw. We conquered. The Gamer army moved deeper into the forest as fast as possible, following the orders of their brave general Johan IloveFurries007. The guy who had shouted ¡°Fuck yeah! Let¡¯s go back and kill them all!¡± after the heroic arrival of Arthur and the others was named Eric. And he walked with a small group of like-minded zealots, all of them young men, shouting about their future exploits, adrenaline pumping in their veins. That didn¡¯t stop them from walking as fast as everybody else, not looking back toward the battlefield once, while still talking about their future glory and how much they would ¡°fuck those dudes up.¡± Arthur had taken one of the prettier women and helped her over his horse, sitting her in front of him. She smiled happily, a little blushed with the attention. Her name was Emily, and she was very chatty and excited by everything she had seen since being resurrected. As planned, Tobias also got some of the fame. For a moment, he tried to deflect the merit, but the bloody saber spoke for him. And he again surprised Mark because he seemed to be enjoying the attention. He flirted poorly with a couple of girls, and was now surrounded by the group of zealots, who were trying to get him to tell all the details of his exploits. True to his word, Tobias didn¡¯t provide any real details about what had happened. But he did brag. A lot. Mark stopped listening when he heard Tobias, still riding the horse, proclaiming: ¡°You know how it is¡­ We came. We saw. We mother-fucking conquered!¡± Mark walked a few yards away from the now cheering zealots, discouraging everybody¡¯s approach with an angry scowl. He didn¡¯t want to talk with anybody. Not now. He wanted time. To think, to plan his next move. Now that everybody had seen his bloody dagger, he cleaned it with the help of a young man¡¯s canteen and sheathed it. At some point, they stopped near a river, and he managed to clean up most of the blood covering his face. He tried to remember as much as possible of the premonitions he had seen on the battlefield: the dragon, the army of undead, the laughing king witnessing his kingdom being burned to ashes, and the god destroying a city with its own hands. Hours passed. Everybody seemed to be slowly forgetting about the battle they had just witnessed, and the feel of the ¡°Gamer Battalion,¡± as they were calling themselves, was more of a group of friends walking through a peaceful forest than people running for their lives. People laughed and greeted each other as they put a face to the usernames they had been playing with, in many cases, for years. Even Mark eventually started mingling with people. Eventually, Arthur¡¯s horse seemed to tire. It refused to keep moving, stomping a hoof firmly on the ground, whinnying softly. And a bitter-looking guy with a bruised eye commented that two people on the horse were too much and could injure it¡ªhe was one of the guys who had gotten into a fistfight when they had arrived into this new world. Arthur decided both of them would walk, so the horse could take a rest. After a few minutes walking and flirting with the girl, he left her the reins of the horse, and he made a gesture to Mark. They both approached Johan, who led the crowd while answering questions and getting to know people. Tobias followed them, and Arthur seemed okay with it, so Mark didn¡¯t say anything. They had spent the last eight hours walking away from the battlefield, always moving deeper into the forest. They had taken time to rest a few times. Tobias had lent his horse to a guy who had sprained his ankle. Mark could feel his Skills slowly replenishing within him. If he tried, he probably could use his [Phantom Presence] for an instant. ¡°So nobody has a book in their bag?¡± they heard Johan asking a man who shook his head negatively. ¡°Keep asking, keep asking, it¡¯s very important.¡± Then Johan realized Arthur and the others were approaching him, and he smiled widely, extending his arms: ¡°My champions! My glorious soldiers! My beautiful warriors! How are you doing? I wanted to speak with you! But first, let¡¯s stop in this place, it¡¯s as good as any to camp for the night. Then we¡¯ll confer.¡± It had been getting dark for the past few hours, and soon the darkness would be absolute. They thought they were stopping near a ridge of tall rocks, but as they got closer to it, they realized it was a massive fallen statue made of rock. It was so tall that when it was still standing, it must have towered over the forest. It took them almost ten minutes to go around it and make camp on the other side, protected from the wind and also from being seen by anybody coming from the battlefield. A few people had holding bags that held some camping equipment. It took effort, but they managed to organize a camp with different streets, latrines, and a night watch schedule. One of Eric¡¯s zealots even managed to climb the fallen statue to keep watch from above and be sure nobody came from the direction of the battlefield. ¡°Somebody carved something into the stone!¡± the self-appointed lookout shouted. ¡°It looks super old¡ªlike hundreds of years old! It says: ALL HOPE IS LOST!¡± A little unnerved by that optimistic message, the Gamers started setting up the camp. And for the first time, Johan showed some actual leadership skills. He seemed to be everywhere. Organizing things. Trying to cheer people up. Cajoling them into their newly given duties. And all the while, he kept insisting and asking everybody if they had a book among their equipment. He hadn¡¯t had any luck yet. Mark was sitting near one of the cooking pits, where he and a few others had been trying to start a fire so they could prepare dinner. Their attempts had been very unsuccessful, but pretty fun. For some reason, people enjoyed telling Mark about the supervolcano and how they had died, and he listened to their stories. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°How many of you took the bitch way out and ate the government pill?¡± one of the guys asked. ¡°The euthanasia pill?¡± a young woman answered, raising her eyebrows. ¡°I mean, why wouldn¡¯t you take it when the time came? It was great. You fell asleep peacefully and without pain. My whole family took it when it was time.¡± She seemed to get a little melancholic thinking about her family, her eyes getting a little misty, and she made an effort to focus on the conversation. ¡°You seriously didn¡¯t take it?¡± ¡°Of course not. I died like a fucking man. In immense pain, slowly choking to death. Fuck you, deep state, I win!¡±, he raised his middle fingers towards the sky. Tobias was nearby, arguing with a few others about the best dish to prepare with the very few ingredients they had. He defended making a good, healthy soup. He had almost drawn his saber when some guy argued for slaughtering one of the horses and eating the meat. But the horses already had names, and were beloved members of the Gamer Battalion; so a consensus was quickly reached that they preferred to roast and eat the dude with the horrible idea than even imagine eating the peaceful Destiny, or the affectionate Serenity. So they were having fun. They were not at all closer to actually having something to eat. But they were having fun. And then nearby, some guy told Johan that he didn¡¯t have the book. And Johan snapped and shouted with his heavy Swedish accent: ¡°You¡¯re lying! Let me see that bag!¡± And tried to take the bag of holding from the man, who resisted, trying to keep the bag away. Johan had managed to get the loyalty of Eric and his small group of zealots, and they ran to his help, taking the bag from the man and emptying it on the ground. There was food, clothes, and an alchemist kit with some ingredients. But no book. ¡°Nothing here, boss!¡± Eric exclaimed, his eyes shining a little with the excitement. He pushed with his feet some of the clothes, as if making sure that the book wasn¡¯t hidden within them. Johan, pale and staring at the things lying at his feet, raised his eyes and realized a small crowd of curious people had formed around him. He shouted: ¡°Where¡¯s the book? Who has it? Without that book we¡¯re all dead! We¡¯ll die gruesome deaths! Tortured and maimed! We¡¯ll be tortured and maimed!¡± That got people¡¯s attention. And a new improvised meeting started soon, with everybody approaching Johan. Mark saw Arthur getting out of one of the tents, a very flushed and smiling woman behind him, retouching her clothes. It was a different woman than the one he had been riding with. Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, fixing it a little, and meanwhile, he pushed through the crowd to stand next to Johan, who looked at him, but said nothing. ¡°We need to find that fucking book!¡± Johan shouted. ¡°If nobody gives it to me, we¡¯ll have to search every single person until we find it! It¡¯s thatimportant!¡± ¡°Why is it so important?¡± Mark asked. ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± started Johan, and then looked around a little uncomfortably. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ well, it¡¯s a magic book.¡± Somebody snorted in disbelief. ¡°It¡¯s true!¡± Johan insisted. ¡°Before you arrived, all the generals were offered different options to equip their armies. And one of the options was a book with magic spells. Very basic ones. Why do you think we barely have any weapons? Just that single book was worth enough to get more than a thousand swords and shields!¡± The same guy with the bruised eye who had told Arthur to get off the horse intervened now: ¡°You seriously made us appear unarmed in the middle of a battle just to get a magic book?¡± Johan looked around, seemingly afraid people might start to turn against him. ¡°Of course I did! Wake up, people! Those guys back there,¡± he pointed in the direction they had come from, towards the battlefield, ¡°they were chosen by the greatest generals in history. Chosen among the tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of soldiers those generals ever had. We are talking about the elite of the elite! We cannot fight them in normal combat!¡± Johan looked at Arthur, still standing next to him, now with a satisfied half-smile on his face. And then continued talking: ¡°Well, we can; somehow we managed to take down a couple of them. But that will not be the norm. How many of you ever held a sword in your entire lives? See? We cannot compete with them, not with normal means! But I guarantee you one thing: of all those millions of men, none of them know how to throw a fireball, or cure an injury with magic, or do any magic stuff. That will be our edge! As long as we find the goddamn book!¡± A woman in the crowd gasped. ¡°I think I know where the book is!¡± she said. ¡°I remember now! When we first appeared, a guy looked into his bag and took out a weird-looking book. You remember, Emily? He was the tall, red-headed one¡­¡± she added, looking at a woman next to her, who seemed scared of speaking in front of so many people. Johan ran to the first woman and took her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. ¡°Who? Who has it?¡± Eric and the zealots started staring at the crowd and taking positions, maybe expecting the culprit to start running away. The woman stayed silent. She seemed afraid. Afraid of what she was going to say. ¡°Who has it?¡± Johan insisted. His eyes had a touch of madness. After a couple seconds of silence, she whispered: ¡°He stayed watching the battle¡­¡± Johan understood immediately. ¡°No¡­¡± ¡°He¡­ he was killed by the Mongol arrows. We all saw him die.¡± ¡°No!¡± shouted Johan, letting the woman go and walking away. ¡°Fuck! Fuck!¡± He kicked one of the empty pots where Mark and the others had planned to make the soup. And hurt himself, the dull metallic thud getting more than one hiss of sympathy from the crowd. ¡°Fuck! Fuck!¡± Johan shouted again, now for a very different reason, while hopping on one leg. That uplifting display by their brave and courageous leader lasted for a couple of minutes. A very long couple of minutes. Until the pain eased, and he relaxed a little and said: ¡°Okay¡­ This is still salvageable¡­ My god¡­! I hope the blood of that idiot didn¡¯t spoil the book!¡± Johan realized some people were giving him bad looks. ¡°What? Don¡¯t act as if you give a fuck! We barely knew him!¡± He looked around and shouted, ¡°Mark! Mark! Where is Mark?¡± And when he found Mark in the crowd, he added, ¡°Great! You, Arthur, and Tobias come with me! I¡¯ll need my champions for this mission!¡± Mark looked at Arthur, who shrugged, and they walked towards the command tent. Before entering, Arthur made Eric the Zealot approach and told him to get everybody back to their duties. Then he disappeared into the tent, followed by Tobias and Mark. From the outside, the command tent was a little bigger than the others, a little higher than the others. Just before closing the flaps of the tent, Mark looked back towards the pots they had readied to make dinner. No soup for me¡­ he thought sadly. Then he turned around and realized he was in a space way bigger than it should have been. From the outside, the tent looked like it could fit about four people, a little cramped. But once inside, the tent was spacious, enough for about ten people to relax without worries. There were couches, a few small beds. And in the middle of the space, there was a small pit that you had to walk down two steps to reach. There, behind a big, rectangular wooden table, Johan waited for them, standing with his hands resting on the table, looking at them solemnly. ¡°My soldiers¡­ My warriors¡­ My glorious champions¡­ I hate to say this, but I need you to go back to the battlefield, avoiding all the armies of the forest, and get my magic book back.¡± Mark stared at Johan, a little perplexed. Is he serious? He looks serious¡­ Johan seemed to be seriously asking them to walk back to the battlefield they had just escaped from. He seemed to be waiting for their answer. ¡°Fuck you,¡± Mark answered. Ch 7 - Give me a reason not to kill you ¡°I know it¡¯s absurdly dangerous, but I need you to go back to the battlefield, avoiding all the armies of the forest, and get my fucking book back. Without it, we have no edge. No way to survive this thing¡­¡± They were in the command tent. Johan¡¯s tent. From the outside, the tent looked like it could fit about four people, a little cramped. But once inside, the tent was big enough for about ten people to relax without worries. There were couches and a few small beds. And in the middle of the space, there was a small pit that you had to walk down two steps to reach. The voices outside were greatly muffled. It was so silent that Mark could have heard somebody whisper a few feet away. It was incredible. That tent was a miracle. It was magic. It was overwhelming. It hadn¡¯t stopped Arthur for more than two seconds. That¡¯s how much it took him to look at the interior of the tent, and then, without hesitation, walk the two steps down to the pit, towards Johan. ¡°So will you do it?¡±, asked Johan, still standing behind the big, rectangular wooden table at the middle of the pit. ¡°Will you go back to the battlefield and recover the book?¡± Mark was about to tell him to ¡°fuck off¡± again when Arthur answered. ¡°Sure. We¡¯ll do it.¡± Johan was surprised. He seemed to have been ready to give a long, convincing speech. When he realized Arthur wasn¡¯t kidding, he let out a sigh and let himself fall down in the chair behind the table. The two candles on the table illuminated the interior of the tent, accentuating the dark bags under his eyes. He seemed exhausted. ¡°Really, just like that?¡± ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Arthur said, standing in front of Johan. ¡°We¡¯re all dead without it. So getting the book back is something that has to be done. And we¡¯re the best people to do it¡­¡± Arthur shrugged. ¡°So let¡¯s do it.¡± ¡°My God¡­ I¡¯m starting to really like you guys¡­¡± ¡°But I want answers. Right now.¡± Johan stood a little straighter after that. He eyed them for a couple of seconds, trying to gauge them. ¡°Oh¡­ of course. It¡¯s only fair. What questions do you have?¡± ¡°We received a message directly from one of Julius Caesar¡¯s centurions. Apparently, he wants to speak with you. He said that we don¡¯t have to be enemies.¡± Johan smiled slightly. ¡°He said that, didn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°Why does Julius Caesar want to speak with you?¡± ¡°He suspects I fucked him. Which I totally did. I fucked Julius Caesar. So you should avoid him at all costs¡ªsame with Genghis Khan, by the way. Although I probably don¡¯t need to tell you that.¡± ¡°Why? What did you do? What happened before everybody arrived at that battlefield?¡± Johan seemed to doubt telling them about that. And Arthur started talking before he could say anything. ¡°Look, I understand your position here,¡± he made a gesture encompassing the tent and the camp full of Gamers, ¡°You were never the general of all these people. They don¡¯t owe you shit. So the only reason they¡¯re following you is because they assume you know more about what¡¯s going on than them. And you think you have to keep information to yourself until you have cemented your position as a leader.¡± Johan started to open his mouth, and Arthur made a gesture indicating that he didn¡¯t have to bother. ¡°Don¡¯t try to deny it. I see you starting to create a power structure. I saw how you gave that¡­¡±, he snapped his fingers a couple times and looked back at Mark. ¡°What¡¯s the name of that kid, Mark?¡± ¡°Eric,¡± Mark answered. He had been caught off guard by Arthur¡¯s tirade, but he had already caught on. I guess we¡¯re doing it right now¡­ ¡°Yes, that one,¡± Arthur looked back at Johan. ¡°Eric and those other idiots? What you did there was smart. Most of them didn¡¯t have any swords, and now they do, so I assume you kept a little stash of weapons in your bag of holding to give to people you considered loyal? Smart. Very smart. You¡¯re making great decisions, Furry Lover! It must have taken some time to think it all through!¡± Johan looked at Arthur, his mouth slightly agape. Arthur sat down in a chair in front of Johan¡¯s table, and he took down the sword from his hip, keeping it in the sheath, and let it rest against the table. The gesture was done in a relaxed manner, as if he just wanted to sit more comfortably, without meaning anything by it. In the silence of the tent, the sword made an ominous sound when it clicked against the wooden table. Johan stared at the weapon, probably remembering that not that long ago it had been covered in the blood of their enemies. Then Arthur continued talking: ¡°By the way, you made a good choice. Eric seems like a nice enough guy, a little overexcited, but not the ambitious sort, so he won¡¯t be having any thoughts of taking your power. He¡¯ll follow you. The others will follow you. And if you have enough guys with weapons, nobody will dare to try to take your position. You¡¯re on your way to stabilizing your power. And that¡¯s good! That¡¯s great! But you need to trust somebody¡­¡± Johan blinked a few times, taking him a little to realize Arthur had finished talking. ¡°And I should trust you? You seem to have thought more about taking my fucking position than I have!¡± Arthur raised his hands innocently, smiling. ¡°You can trust me. And I¡¯ll give you a great reason for it¡­¡± Johan looked at Mark as if looking for reassurance. Mark, standing on a side of the tent, shrugged. Johan gestured to Arthur, asking him to continue: Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Please enlighten me. Why the fuck can I trust you?¡± Arthur smiled in that way Mark had always hated. As if he was holding every card. He even reclined back on the chair, relaxing in the superiority of his position. ¡°Can a general take a position in another general¡¯s army? Is there some way for you to step down from your position? Or is this a Battle Royale in the strictest sense, where there can only be one?¡± Johan didn¡¯t answer, but he did turn pale. ¡°Just what we thought,¡± Arthur said. ¡°This might be a fight to the death. Just like you said. But it is not our deaths,¡± he pointed to himself, Mark and Tobias. Then he pointed to Johan, ¡°This is a fight to your death. Your soldiers don¡¯t matter, right? As soon as you¡¯re dead, no other general will give a fuck about us. Maybe they¡¯ll try to recruit us, but kill us? Where is the benefit of that?¡± Arthur leaned forward, staring. ¡°So, Furry Lover, please tell me why¡­ even if it was possible to take your position, why would I fucking want to take it? You have a target on your head, and millions of highly trained soldiers aiming for it. I can just walk away into the sunset, and explore this beautiful world we are in. Or I could go out there right now and tell everybody that we¡¯ll be safe as soon as we kill you.¡± ¡°You think they will doubt for a moment? They don¡¯t care about you. They will not care about your begging and crying and peeing yourself. The gods seemed to have been merciful. Those scared boys and girls out there? They will not be. Maybe they¡¯ll not have the stomach to kill you personally, maybe they¡¯ll just exile you out of this camp and let you wander around the forest, hoping whoever finds you will give you a fast death, and not decide to make it a long one. You¡¯re alone, Furry Lover. And nobody gives a shit if you live or die¡­¡± Arthur loved luxuriating in his power. Another one of his enchanting traits. Johan was getting more and more pale. And he seemed to be deflating in front of their eyes, as if he could collapse on the table. And Arthur, of course, continued: ¡°I¡¯m not much of a history buff, but I¡¯m pretty sure some of the assholes out there come from times when people were extremely imaginative with the way they killed their enemies. The Romans crucified, right? I don¡¯t quite remember what the Mongols did¡­ But I¡¯m sure it was delightful¡­ What do you think?¡± he said, as if asking Johan. ¡°Was it burning their enemies alive? Dismemberment? Exposure to the elements?¡± He looked up, a hand on his chin, as if reflecting about it. ¡°Maybe they let insects eat you alive slowly? Or am I thinking about Indiana Jones, there?¡± Johan¡¯s hands were starting to shake. He was about to break into tears. Mark remembered the good times he had enjoyed with Johan. The personal stuff they had shared while playing video games. The laughs. Especially the laughs. There have been many days when playing video games with him was the best part of Mark¡¯s day. And then he remembered awakening in this strange world, and regretting the decisions he had made in the past. The path he had taken. And he said: ¡°Cut this shit out, Arthur. Focus on what we want.¡± Mark wasn¡¯t surprised by anything Arthur had said to this point. They had brainstormed it all while walking. It was fundamental to understand their position, the rules of the strange game they had been thrust into. They had other plans in case their assumptions about the nature of the game had been wrong. They were willing to lie about the offer Julius Caesar had made; to take power in the ¡°Gamer Battalion¡±, they were even willing to make a coup d¡¯¨¦tat, arguing that Johan wasn¡¯t good enough to lead them¡­ To be honest, they were willing to do anything to make sure they knew what was going on. Arthur raised his hands a little, innocently. ¡°Sorry, I got carried away. My friend here...¡± he made a vague gesture towards Mark. ¡°He seems to really like you. He said you¡¯re great, Furry Lover. A tactical genius. And I wasn¡¯t lying when I said that I like what you have done until now. So please, prove to us you have something. Tell us your plans: Prove to us we¡¯ll fucking survive if we follow you. And we will follow.¡± Johan looked at them in silence for almost a minute, deciding what to do. And eventually, he said: ¡°What do you want to know?¡± Mark started with an easy one: ¡°How the fuck are we all standing here?¡± Johan smiled a little, looking at the unnaturally big tent. ¡°I have so say, I expected to put you all a little bit more out of foot with this. This place is my command tent. I paid a decent chunk for it. But I hope it will be useful in the future. From what I understand, it works the same as the holding bags. It¡¯s magical, and it can hold a bigger space than it should.¡± Mark made another easy question. That had been the plan. First, Arthur would terrify him, and then Mark, his old friend, would make some easy questions to make him feel more relaxed. To make sure he wasn¡¯t lying. ¡°Why are you here?¡± Mark asked. ¡°For real, how does it make any sense that you¡¯re in the same group, or in the same sentence, with somebody like Alexander the Great?¡± Johan smiled, and answered as if repeating something that had been told to him. ¡°The generals were experts on warfare who had gained much fame and recognition during their lifetimes. Preferably worldwide acclaim. But national fame was enough.¡± ¡°You were the leader of a fucking online clan,¡± Mark answered. And in the eyes of Johan, he felt the beginning of a joke, as if the Swedish man was starting to set up a punchline. ¡°A small one, too. How could you qualify? What kind of fucking fame could you have gained?¡± Johan smiled and pointed at Mark. ¡°It was your fault, Mark.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°We¡¯re all here because of you.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Mark looked at Arthur, who seemed as confused as he was. Tobias, on the other hand, seemed to have understood. Johan continued talking: ¡°Well, I guess we also owe this opportunity to the guy who killed you,¡± he said. ¡°You know, your disappearance made us lose the finals. And I didn¡¯t take it very well¡­ I made a Discord call with the rest of the clan. For some fucking reason I decided to turn my camera on, and went on a long, rambling tirade. In my deranged speech I said fuck you, Mark many, many times. Johan smiled bitterly at the memory. ¡°Do you guys remember the video of the angry German boy? It¡¯s from the first years of the Internet.¡± Mark started to connect some of the pieces. ¡°You became a meme?¡± ¡°I became a meme,¡± Johan confirmed, solemnly. ¡°First a small one. Limited to the Counter Strike community. I couldn¡¯t play anywhere without people shouting fuck you, Mark every two seconds. But at least it was contained to my gaming; it didn¡¯t affect my real life. Then the fucking supervolcano erupted. And guess the fucking first name of the expert the government chose to tell us that we were all dead?¡° Johan smiled sadly and nodded. ¡°Yes. His fucking name was Mark. And my video took off like wildfire. Somebody made a montage where our videos appeared side by side, and Mark the expert announced the end of the world, explaining every detail, and I got angrier and angrier, shouting fuck you, Mark, fuck you, Mark over and over while I punched the table and ripped my shirt away, and eventually started crying from the frustration¡­ Mark made a real effort to block any image from forming on his mind. ¡°International repercussion¡­ You said generals needed international repercussion to qualify...¡± Mark said, and he would have loved to have a chair to sit on. ¡°You are here¡­We are here¡­ because you became a fucking meme.¡± ¡°A massive one. Worldwide meme. Maybe the biggest one in history. You could find it anywhere. Hopefully, I¡¯ll discover the fucker who leaked the video; it made my life a nightmare. Especially while I stayed in Stockholm. I couldn¡¯t leave my apartment without people mocking me. Eventually, I went to my parents¡¯ country house to spend my last months with them and I forgot about all that bullshit. I¡¯ll tell you something, though¡­ If I find out who leaked the video, I¡¯ll fucking behead him. You can take my word on that.¡± ¡°No, you won¡¯t,¡± Mark said. Johan smiled. ¡°No, I won¡¯t.¡± Arthur looked back at Mark, asking him if it was the time. Mark, a little shaken by the answers already received, nodded. So Arthur turned around to look at Johan and made the next question. And it was the first one that truly mattered: ¡°What happened before we all resurrected? You have talked about a meeting of the generals¡­ We want to know what actually happened.¡± Johan had relaxed a little. He passed his hand through his hair. He still looked tired, but he seemed more in control. He straightened up and looked at the men in front of him. ¡°So we arrive at the interesting stuff¡­ Months before you resurrected, each general appeared in the temple of his god. And we were told about the Apocalypse. Specifically, we were told that we are the Apocalypse.¡± Ch 8 - When the generals were resurrected ¡°What happened before we all resurrected?¡± Arthur insisted. Johan passed his hand through his hair. He had shown so much energy while walking through the woods. Encouraging everybody. Getting to know them. But now the exhaustion seemed to have finally reached him. ¡°Each general appeared in the temple of his god.¡± ¡°What?¡± Arthur insisted. ¡°Whose temple?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t really understand the specifics. They were never explained. But each general has been chosen by a god of this world. And we appeared in the temple of the god who chose us.¡± ¡°But why?¡± Johan raised his arms, getting up from his chair. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe it¡¯s just a wager among them. They didn¡¯t give us any explanation.¡± He walked from one side of the tent to the other and started explaining. ¡°So we each appeared in our god¡¯s temple. When I first opened my eyes, I found myself sitting on a wooden bench, my head slightly tilted, my chin resting on my closed hands, as if I had been praying, or thinking deeply. And in front of me, there was a massive statue of some sort of military leader, raising his sword towards the ceiling.¡± ¡°There were two other generals sitting next to me¡ªat that point I didn¡¯t know who they were, but later I learned they were Julius Caesar and Genghis Khan. We were sitting on the first bench of a beautiful cathedral, made of pure marble, with golden statues depicting heroes and painted murals with epic scenes of battle.¡± ¡°It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. And as you¡¯ll have guessed, I was scared shitless.¡± ¡°And suddenly a soft, raspy voice started talking behind us. And I looked back, and there, sitting on the bench behind ours, there was a man, a very old man, older than time, older than anything I had ever seen, dressed in a worn-out black tunic that covered his whole body.¡± ¡°His eyes never left the statue with the raised sword, standing in the middle of the cathedral, where the altar should have been. And he started talking, and his tone was the one you would use in confession, when whispering your sins to God, begging for His forgiveness.¡± ¡°And he told us that we were the punishment; we were the consequence; that we had been chosen to inflict a new apocalypse on the infidel people of Terastes¡­¡± ¡°For their heresy they shall be punished, for their pride they shall be humbled, for their daring to dream of freedom they shall suffer¡­ he said.¡± ¡°And then he added: For reminding the gods of their own sins, they shall see their children burn¡­ And his voice almost broke when he said it. And he never stopped looking at the massive statue of the man with the raised sword.¡± ¡°And I honestly was hyperventilating. Shaking to the point that the bench we were sitting on was trembling. That¡¯s when I lost Genghis Khan¡¯s respect, by the way. You should have seen his look of contempt. Julius Caesar was a little kinder, and he put a hand on my shoulder to try to comfort me. And we kept listening to the strange speech of the old man¡­¡± Johan paused, shaking his head at the memory. His voice had gone low and hoarse. Mark interrupted for a question: ¡°So, the generals you appeared with were Genghis Khan and Julius Caesar? You actually know them?¡± ¡°Yes, I appeared with Julius Caesar and Genghis Khan¡ªand yes, I do know them. We were all chosen by the same god. I didn¡¯t know back then, but it was unique for a god to only have three chosen generals. From what I saw afterward, the average was more like twenty generals per god.¡± ¡°So the old man continued talking, and in a tone a little bit less formal, he said that we should spend a few days getting used to everything, to understand the Laws written on the stone; and he got up and walked out of the cathedral, his steps echoing in the tall ceilings. And he was gone; and then, and only then, we could move. Suddenly we could get up from the bench, explore the cathedral.¡± ¡°After spending a couple of minutes exploring the cathedral and realizing it was empty, we left. To be more accurate, I felt as if I couldn¡¯t breathe anymore. I started running away as fast as possible. I slammed my shoulder into the cathedral¡¯s massive doors¡ªand found myself in a giant, echoing catacomb.¡± ¡°And I mean absolutely giant¡ªit was so filled with temples that they got lost in the distance. The god that had chosen me had the newest temple, and it was standing at the highest point. It was as if each temple was constructed next to the last. And the farther you moved down, the more consumed by time they were. Some of the temples, especially at the end of the line¡­ They weren¡¯t buildings anymore¡ªthey were fossils, half-swallowed by the stone and time itself.¡± ¡°Some temples had already collapsed. And nobody resurrected in the collapsed temples. I found that interesting, but¡­¡± ¡°Focus on the Laws, maybe?¡±, Mark said, already invested in the story. ¡°Oh, yeah. Sure,¡± Johan seemed to be enjoying having an interested audience. ¡°Well, the Laws were at the depths of the catacomb. We were the farthest ones away from them. And the people who walked out of the older temples were the closest ones. The Laws were massive. They dwarfed everything¡ªthe temples included. And they were¡­ changing. Slowly. Always changing.¡± ¡°What were the Laws?¡± insisted Mark. ¡°They weren¡¯t written with words. It was something deeper. Half math, half music? I cannot explain it, not really. I shouldn¡¯t have been capable of even understanding them¡­¡± Johan seemed to have an idea. ¡°Actually, you¡¯re the only ones who have spoken with somebody from another army, so I¡¯m sure you must have noticed that we¡¯re all speaking the same language, right? Like, that¡¯s fucking crazy. We are thinking in the same language as Roman people. I was speaking normally with generals who were born four thousand years before me. That¡¯s fascinating. Language shapes our minds and our thinking, so only God knows the consequences of this change.¡± ¡°Well, for some fucking reason, I could read those Laws; all the generals could. At least the most basic Laws. The most complex ones made my nose bleed. I¡¯m sure a genius could spend all his life studying those forms and only scrape the surface. But even if I could read the basic stuff, I couldn¡¯t understand it. Like, all the things I was reading made no sense. They were absurd.¡± Stolen story; please report. ¡°No sense at all. It talked about Levels and Classes and Skills, and how each person couldn¡¯t hold more than a hundred Levels, and it talked about death not being possible to cage, and shit like that. It made no sense. And yet, I spent so many hours staring at it. More than anybody. The changing nature of the puzzle was hypnotic¡­. Brutal. There was something cruel in those Laws¡­¡± ¡°During those few days, I met many generals. And I realized what I was facing against¡ªthey were the greatest generals in the history of our world. I was the only one who had never fought a war, never killed a man. So why was I chosen?¡± ¡°And then a few days later, the old man came back, and it was time to choose the men in my army. Each of us would be able to choose two thousand men among the people who had served with us. Many generals took days deciding. I just picked everybody I was offered and walked out, feeling disgusted with myself for condemning you all to slaughter.¡± ¡°Well, some hours later I went to sleep in a cot in the cathedral of my god, and just before I fell asleep, I felt a voice deep within my soul: [Level 1 - General of the Apocalypse Unlocked] [Basic Morale Unlocked]¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t the only one. When I left my temple, I saw many other generals discussing the voices. Some were scared. Others curious. And everybody was trying to understand what the voices meant. Of course, I understood it at once; I have played enough RPGs. So I ignored them all, and ran all the way to the depths of the catacombs, to look again at the Laws.¡± Johan looked at them, as if trying to make them realize the importance of what he had seen. ¡°Understand that at that point I had been terrified. I was sure that I was going to be killed as soon as I resurrected.¡± ¡°And I arrived at the depths of the cave, and I looked up, and I fell to my knees, because I saw our salvation.¡± ¡°There was a hard limit of a hundred Levels¡­ No creature can have more than a hundred levels. Until this point, I hadn¡¯t understood what it meant. Now I knew there had to be Classes and Skills in the world I was going to¡­ And more important¡­ Before, I had seen a symbol I understood, although not having the context, I couldn¡¯t understand its significance.¡± ¡°What symbol?¡± asked Arthur, frowning. ¡°The most beautiful one. The dream of every businessman. The hook that destroys every victim of a Ponzi scheme¡­ Exponential growth. The beautiful hockey stick starting at zero and growing exponentially towards the impossible dream¡­ towards glorious infinity.¡± Mark and Arthur looked at each other with some confusion. Tobias interjected himself for the first time. He had been listening from a side of the tent. ¡°Imagine something that¡¯s constantly being multiplied by two. Starting on one, it would be one, two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four, one hundred twenty-eight, and in no time at all you would reach millions, then billions, then trillions.¡± ¡°Yes! Exactly! And I understood what it meant¡­¡± ¡°What? What did it mean?¡± Mark asked. ¡°It meant victory! It meant our fucking victory!¡± ¡°What? Why?¡± ¡°Levels must provide exponential growth! Like, the difference in power between a level 10 and a 20 will be much smaller than the difference in power of a level 40 and a level 50. The higher you reach, the more power you¡¯ll get with every level you acquire. This is our edge!¡± ¡°When the other generals think about a level 90 [Archer], they think of a very precise archer, who can throw an arrow half a mile in the distance. You know, the best archer in history. When I think about a level 90 [Archer], I think about somebody who might throw arrows ten miles away, arrows that explode and take down fighter jets. You understand? They lack the proper perspective on this.¡± ¡°How do you know what the other generals think?¡± ¡°I made fucking sure that they thought like that! War can be fought in many ways. And disinformation is one of them. It¡¯s funny, but among all those legendary generals, I was the first one to start throwing some swings¡ªeven if they were not physical.¡± Johan realized the confusion of his audience. ¡°I manipulated their expectations. I anchored them to a certain viewpoint. I told stories about video games in the future, in our future, and how somebody with a level 100 would be the best archer in the world. Not a superhuman one, mind you, I made sure they just thought about a very talented archer. You know, I talked about games like FIFA and shit like that, where the best player might have a level 94. And I worked really, really, fucking hard to make sure everybody kept their thinking linear. Small.¡± ¡°At that point, I was becoming a little bit of the pet of many generals. Everybody knew I didn¡¯t fit with them. But some of them liked to have me around. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it made them feel good to dwarf somebody, when they felt small compared to some of the legends they were constantly facing.¡± ¡°I told them stories of how their empires ended, what happened with their children¡ªsome of this I made up, I always enjoyed history, but not to that level. I also listened to their war stories. You wouldn¡¯t believe some of them. Honestly, I had the protagonists themselves in front of me, telling me the stories with all manner of details; and I still didn¡¯t believe some of them. Like, some of those dudes might be legends, but they¡¯re also full of shit. They love to brag.¡± ¡°And I took advantage of their trust to manipulate their thinking and expectations.¡± ¡°I acted like a bumbling fool. As if I didn¡¯t know the value of secrets, the value of information. I acted all excited and told them all these little secrets about the world. At some point, there was a negotiation with the old man, to decide the equipment of our armies. And I asked him about Levels, and he told me that somebody with zero experience as a swordsman, if he gained five or ten levels on the Class¡ªhe would get some basic proficiency in it. I immediately shared it with everybody, almost jumping around with excitement.¡± ¡°That got many generals interested. Who wouldn¡¯t be tempted to have your soldier train for a few weeks and gain five levels in archery? Or maybe ten. Just enough to gain a basic proficiency that on Earth might have taken six months of basic training to achieve?¡± ¡°So?¡± Arthur asked. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it? Eventually, they will realize that Pericles, the Athenian soldier can become a powerful [Mage]. But by that point he might already be a level twenty [Warrior]. And level eight [Archer]. A level three fucking [Cook]. And a level seven [Gambler]. ¡°And then his growth as a [Mage] will be slower, and his maximum potential stunted.¡± ¡°And maybe they¡¯ll say, well, we¡¯ll forget about the [Mage] class, we¡¯ll keep him specialized as a great [Warrior], but even that class will be stunned, because a big chunk of all his levels have been wasted making him a half decent archer, a mediocre cook, a degenerate gambler, and a mage aficionado.¡± Johan seemed to realize their disbelief. He insisted: ¡°It¡¯s our edge! This is why the fuck I had been chosen for this¡­ I have actual knowledge on this shit! None of this will matter today. Or in a week. But I¡¯m thinking about months from now. Or even years from now. It could mean everything when the endgame arrives.¡± ¡°The endgame?¡± ¡°Yeah. Shit will get much crazier than now.¡± Silence. Doubt. Johan made a last plea to try to convince them. One last attempt to protect his position as a leader: ¡°I fell into despair. I succumbed to hopelessness. But not anymore. I refuse to become a fucking pawn to be discarded. I died too young on Earth, way before I achieved my true potential. I absolutely intend to achieve fucking greatness in this world. I¡¯m not cannon fodder. We are not cannon fodder. This is a plan. This will work. We will thrive. We will win this fucking war. We will conquer this world. I promise you, guys. I didn¡¯t bring you to be lambs to be slaughtered. Follow me, trust me, and I will give you glory.¡± There was silence in the tent. Mark remembered for a moment a voice in his headphones, the voice of a Swedish man who always had doubts about everything. About women. About work. About fucking video games¡­ And now he was asking them without hesitation, without breaking eye contact, to follow him into a war against the most powerful generals in history¡­ Arthur broke the silence. His sword was still leaning on the table. His previous threats hanging in the air. ¡°It¡¯s not enough, man,¡± he said. ¡°What you have explained is... It¡¯s not enough.¡± Because even now, with a sword aimed at your throat, you¡¯re still lying to us, my beautiful Swedish friend, Mark thought. You motherfucker. Ch 9 - The prize of the game Johan had been telling them his story¡ªhis plans to conquer the world. And Arthur had just told him that it wasn¡¯t enough. Johan looked at the sword Arthur had propped against the table in the middle of the spacious commander''s tent. ¡°I¡¯m not saying we¡¯ll kill you,¡± said Arthur, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. ¡°That was a stupid bluff to get the information. But all this stuff you have told us is not enough. It¡¯s all speculation. I¡¯m sorry, but we¡¯ll be safer without you. I¡¯ll have to tell everybody the situation and¡­¡± ¡°No, you cannot¡­¡± said Johan. ¡°I¡¯m sorry," Arthur said, and he really appeared pained by what he was about to do. But he got up from the chair and started to walk away. ¡°Please¡­¡± Johan said, extending his hand toward him. Mark didn¡¯t move. He kept standing in the same place while he exchanged a meaningful look with Arthur. Then he looked at the broken Johan and talked: ¡°Maybe you should start saying the fucking truth?¡± Johan looked at him and blinked several times. ¡°You¡¯re hiding something,¡± added Mark, walking towards him and sitting on the same chair Arthur had left. ¡°I never met you in person, but we have known each other for years. You¡¯re fucking lying to us.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re¡­¡± muttered Johan. And he seemed more terrified than he had looked before. Mark interrupted him, tired of the lies. ¡°I was part of the clan. I helped get new members; that bullshit of the gaming computer that looked like the Batmobile? I organized it. I know how many fucking people we had.¡± He leaned closer to Johan. ¡°We were about to reach ten thousand members. And you could only resurrect less than seven hundred? What the fuck did you do?¡± Johan stared at Mark for almost a minute. He was pale, sweating, and eventually, he broke. He smiled sadly and said: ¡°I¡­ sold them.¡± ¡°What?¡± asked Arthur, who had been standing in the place Mark had been before. ¡°I sold them,¡± repeated Johan. ¡°After choosing the soldiers, we entered into negotiations with the strange old man for our equipment. They were individual negotiations. In a private room. We were all offered the same amount of coin, and we negotiated with the old man to decide how to equip our army. You know, I¡¯ll pay for swords of this quality, I¡¯ll pay for shields, for food, for clothes¡­ That kind of thing.¡± ¡°And I asked him for information. I offered to pay him anything to get more information on the system. I wanted to confirm my theories on Levels, and Classes, and Skills¡­¡± ¡°But the old man got extremely serious and said that those matters involved the Laws, and the Laws were not something that could be bartered with. That the Laws were to be obeyed. He looked at me very seriously and said: Everybody is slave to the Laws.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no price?¡± I asked. I told him I would offer anything. And he seemed uncomfortable¡ªhe kind of liked me¡ªand told me that I should mind my words, because anything could be more than any honorable man should be willing to pay.¡± ¡°I insisted. I needed to know. I needed an edge. I wanted to survive. I insisted for him to tell me the price, that I would pay anything¡­¡± ¡°What was the price?¡± Mark asked in a whisper. Johan looked at him. The candles cast shifting shadows on his face. He looked like a sinner, confessing his crimes. ¡°The price was in souls... The souls of the innocent¡­ And I paid it.¡± The tent was very silent after those words. Johan couldn¡¯t look at them in the eye. He focused on his own hands, resting on the table, and eventually continued speaking: ¡°I paid two hundred and fifty souls for each question about the Laws. One to confirm the power of higher Levels, the exponentiality I suspected existed. Another to learn about lower Levels, so I could bullshit the other generals. Way easier to lie if you use half-truths. And a third to know about possible Classes, to be able to understand a little of the world we were being thrown into. This is how I learned magic existed in this world.¡± ¡°Three questions. At the cost of seven hundred fifty souls.¡± ¡°The starting position at the edge of the battlefield, hidden behind a hill, cost five hundred souls.¡± ¡°A total of one thousand, two hundred and fifty souls. ¡°When I was over, the old man seemed disgusted¡ªeven I was disgusted with myself. And he muttered something about the ugliness of hopelessness, and not everybody being born to be a hero.¡± ¡°Who was he?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I said that I wanted information about him¡ªand asked what was the price for that. And the old man looked at me, extremely serious, and he said that I should go out there, into the world, and conquer it, and build an empire to last ten thousand years, and in the process grow in courage, grow in wisdom, until I became the greatest man of all, and I should father ten children, and see them father a hundred grandchildren; and then, and only then, after I sold him my empire, and my soul, and the souls of my children, and the souls of my grandchildren; then he would allow me a glimpse into who he was.¡± ¡°And the rest of the people who didn¡¯t appear with us?¡± asked Mark. He didn¡¯t want to talk about selling souls. He didn¡¯t want to understand what that entailed. There was something ugly about this world, in the gods that ruled it. Mark could feel it in his bones. He felt a chill through his body. ¡°Those I exchanged later. First, I continued negotiating with coin; now that I knew magic existed, I bought the book with magic spells using almost all the coin we had available. The rest I spend on a few swords, some clothes, the tents, water bottles and a little food. It was easier to equip our army, because we were very few people. Then he started to leave, fast, disgusted with me. But I didn¡¯t want him to leave; I didn¡¯t have enough information, I needed more.¡± ¡°So I started asking more questions. And the Law required a payment for each. The soul of ten innocents for each question. ¡°I asked him if in the future I would find a way to save the souls I had sold.¡± ¡°That seemed to soften him a little. He seemed to pity me.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll soon realize Terastes is a complex world, Filled with wonders, and deep darkness lurking beneath. With many powers competing for supremacy. But if you win the competition, if you conquer the world, you might be able to save those damned souls.¡± ¡°Tell me more about this world we resurrected in, I asked then.¡± ¡°And he got up. And he told me:¡° ¡°Terastes is a crime scene. A mass murder where the murderer is taking his time before killing the victims¡­ savoring their suffering.¡± ¡°He started to walk away, into the darkness behind.¡± ¡°I asked him what else to do when we arrived. He thought about it for a second. Then he laughed. And said that it was interesting how I had earned a position in the battle. You became famous for cursing one of your friends¡­ And I see he will be resurrecting with you¡­¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Do it again. All together. Fuck you, Mark. As soon as you arrive.¡± ¡°Then he laughed again.¡± ¡°Maybe the crazy bastard really knew what he was doing when he chose you¡­ he said, and then he added: Good luck, young man.¡± ¡°And then he left.¡± ¡°It was very abrupt. But now I see he wanted to stop me from continuing to spend soldiers from my army.¡± Mark felt a chill. So him getting the Class [Kilser the Traitor] hadn¡¯t been a coincidence? Johan had done it on purpose? Mark asked: ¡°How can you be sure none of the other generals know about the power of higher Levels?¡± ¡°I doubt any other general took the same deal I took. They weren¡¯t as desperate as I was. And in the end¡­ It¡¯s horrible for me to say, but I was betraying people I didn¡¯t really know. Those generals would have needed to be able to betray their most loyal soldiers.¡± ¡°In any case, if somebody paid the price and learned about higher Levels, obviously they didn¡¯t tell the other generals. So most generals don¡¯t know. I¡¯m sure of that.¡± Arthur interrupted the conversation. ¡°This is all fucking absurd. We¡¯re talking about Classes, and Skills, and Levels. What the hell?¡± ¡°It¡¯s true!¡± insisted Johan, ¡°I have a Class and a Skill.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­ You told us. You¡¯re a [General of the Apocalypse] and have the Skill [Basic Morale]¡­¡± By the way Arthur said it, he clearly didn¡¯t believe anything he had heard. ¡°What? You think [Basic Morale] isn¡¯t useful? Why do you think all the people out there,¡± Johan made a gesture towards the entry of the tent, towards the gamers outside, ¡°aren¡¯t shitting their pants? Why do you think they are functioning normally?¡± ¡°Because they¡¯re seeing all of this like a fantasy. They don¡¯t really believe in what¡¯s going on.¡± Johan stood up, looking at Arthur. ¡°The dead have been pretty real. Their screams of pain were extremely real. People heard them, and didn¡¯t lose their minds. I can feel the Skill within me. It¡¯s impossible to explain if you haven¡¯t felt it yourself. But I know the Skill is there. And I used it when people seemed to be about to lose their minds. I protected them from falling apart. You talk about taking my army from me? Prepare to see them falling apart from fear, from despair.¡± The comment about Skills made Mark insist: ¡°He might be onto something¡­,¡± he repeated, interrupting the discussion. ¡°I¡­ I also achieved a Class. I received some Skills¡­ He is onto something.¡± Johan and Arthur looked at him. And Mark explained in a few words that when they had shouted the fuck you, Mark, he had achieved the class of [Kilser the Traitor - Horsemen of the Apocalypse], and the Skills [Traitor¡¯s Premonition] and [Phantom Presence]. ¡°So the old man actually helped us there?¡± Johan asked, a little surprised. ¡°What?¡± Mark asked, seeing Arthur¡¯s face of disbelief. ¡°You thought I killed an elite Mongol soldier just with some positive thinking?¡± Arthur answered: ¡°I did kill mine by myself, no tricks necessary,¡± he realized the look Mark was giving him. ¡°What? Okay, maybe you did distract him a little¡­¡± Johan was frowning. ¡°But this should be impossible. Leveling only happens when you go to sleep.¡± ¡°Well, it happened to me when I was awake,¡± Mark answered. ¡°And it has only happened to you once, so maybe you¡¯re¡­¡° The same instinct that had pulsed within him when facing the Mongols fired again, and he felt a burning shadow hitting him in the side of the head. Mark evaded the shadow leaning back, almost falling from the chair, and one of the candles flew in front of his eyes, barely missing him. He stared to the side, toward his friend Arthur, who looked with curiosity, not at all guilty for almost burning his face. ¡°Fuck you,¡± said Mark. ¡°I was just testing it.¡± ¡°Fuck you!¡± Mark repeated. ¡°You could have hit me!¡± ¡°I had to try!¡± ¡°What? Do you want to try the [Phantom Presence] by stabbing me in the stomach?¡± Arthur smiled a little. ¡°Of course not. I would never forgive myself if I murdered you.¡± Mark had to chuckle. ¡°Fuck you¡­¡± he repeated. Tobias, who had been listening in silence, ran to extinguish the candle and make sure it didn¡¯t start a fire. Arthur looked to Johan again. ¡°Okay¡­ so it might not be complete bullshit¡­ There are Classes, and there are Skills¡­ Whatever the fuck this all means. So what¡¯s the plan, the actual plan?¡± ¡°Focus on specialization. And not on basic stuff like [Archers] and [Soldiers], but on things the other armies will not have: at least in a long time. Like [Mages]. We will have [Mages], [Druids], [Rogues], [Healers], fucking [Beast Tamers]; we will have an army of elites. Specializedelites. Nothing about being mediocre in three different things. We¡¯ll aim for greatness from the very beginning.¡± Johan continued: ¡°This is our edge. Our path to victory. Our path to glory.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t we need infantry?¡± Mark asked. ¡°Don¡¯t all armies need infantry?¡± Johan shrugged. ¡°Maybe? I have never actually organized an army. In any case, we can recruit from the people of this world.¡± Arthur and Mark looked at each other. Then at Johan. ¡°There¡¯s other people here?¡± ¡°Of course! Didn¡¯t you hear? We are the apocalypse. We are the punishment. What kind of punishment would we be if nobody was living here? And not just humans, from what I understood, there are many other strange races. This is a big, massive world, with its own history that goes back hundreds of thousands of years. We are barely a small stain on it¡­ Of course, it will not be easy to just mingle with the people of this world.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Mark asked. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me? We are the fucking apocalypse! How would you react if some stranger came to your home and said: I¡¯m the apocalypse!¡± For a few minutes, there was silence in the tent, while they processed everything they had heard. ¡°I don¡¯t know what hour it is,¡± Johan eventually said. ¡°But it¡¯s time for you to decide. Will you defect from my army, taking everybody with you? If not, it¡¯s time for you to leave and find the magic book. Without it, we¡¯ll never survive these first weeks of chaos. So¡­ are we allies? Do you accept me as your general?¡± Arthur and Mark looked at each other. Mark nodded. Arthur shrugged. And that was it. Arthur said that he would organize the book retrieval and left the tent. Tobias followed him. And Mark found himself alone with his old online friend. ¡°I notice there was enough in the budget for a big, impressive commander tent¡­¡± he said. Johan shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a symbol of my authority. Increases my gravitas. And we¡¯ll need a place to organize the army.¡± Mark was still sitting on the chair, a little uncomfortable. ¡°Sorry about all of this. The threats, the interrogation¡­¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t stop him. Was this some sort of good cop, bad cop play?¡± he seemed to notice they were still talking. ¡°Is this a good cop, bad cop play?¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°Johan, I like you. I have always liked you. But you¡¯re holding the lives of every person out there hostage to protect your own. You sold the soul of more than a thousand people. This is about power, this is about self-preservation. This is about ambition. Don¡¯t fucking dare talk to me about morality.¡± That gave Johan pause. He spent a few seconds deep in thought, probably remembering everything he had done. ¡°Yes¡­ You¡¯re right¡­ I¡­ I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m so fucking tired already¡­¡± Then he seemed to have an idea. ¡°I also bought a couple bottles of wine. Want a glass?¡± Mark nodded. And looked while Johan poured. ¡°You didn¡¯t buy it by selling a soul, right?¡± Johan stopped pouring for a moment. He had a pained expression. ¡°Nah. Just a couple of swords. I figured that if everything went poorly, it would be nice to have the option of getting drunk before being killed.¡± Johan drank first. And he finished his glass fast. Maybe hoping to drown his guilt. Mark understood the feelings of his friend. He had been in the same position several times in his life. He took a sip of the wine¡­ And it was delicious. Absolutely spectacular¡ªthe best he had ever tasted. It made him tear up a little. Johan finished pouring another glass. He toasted toward the skies. ¡°Bought from the gods. Heavenly wine.¡± And finished half of the second glass in a single motion. He was a little more animated, his cheeks getting flushed. He leaned towards Mark. ¡°Do you want to know something fucked up?¡± ¡°More fucked up than what you have already told me?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± ¡°Sure, why not?¡± ¡°Do you know the prize for winning the competition? The prize for the general who conquers the world?¡± ¡°You tell me.¡± ¡°This is not the first time this competition has happened, you know? The gods punish this world with regularity. The massive statue we¡¯re hiding behind? It¡¯s the second time I have seen it. The first time was in the temple, when I resurrected. And back then, it was the statue of the god who chose me. You understand? He was a general, back in the time, and then he became a god, more than two thousand years ago¡±. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean that the general who conquers the world will become a god. And his soldiers will rule with him from the skies for all eternity. That¡¯sthe prize of this competition.¡± Mark took almost a minute to process that statement. Then he decided to finish the glass of wine. They heard shouts of amazement and fear from outside the tent. They exchanged a look and got up. It was already full night. The only light in the camp came from the few fires they had started, and everybody was looking up, towards the starry sky. There was a background of normal stars, evenly distributed through the sky, but the most intense stars had reconfigured to show some figures towering over the world. After some seconds of confusion, Mark realized that it was a ranking of generals. Only the top ten generals appeared in that list. Their names and faces shining up there, in the sky. The first general was Genghis Khan. His face expressed a serious scowl while he stared down towards the whole world. The second one was Alexander the Great. The third was Napoleon. Most of the next names didn¡¯t mean anything to Mark: Yi Sun-sin, Gustavus Adolphus, Belisarius, Bajirao I, Anne-Hilarion de Tourville and Epaminondas. Except the last one, the number ten of the ranking. Tenth among thousands upon thousands of the greatest generals in history. He was the only one on the ranking who was smiling. The only one who didn¡¯t look like a soldier. The only one in the list who looked like a goddamn fool¡­ ILoveFurries007, their great general. Smiling widely, raising two fingers in the sign of victory. Johan, who had done nothing more than run away from battle, was ranking as the tenth most powerful general of the apocalypse. The tenth in line to become a literal god, Mark thought with incredulity. He looked at Johan, and the general looked as dumbfounded as everybody else. ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± he heard him mutter. Ch 10 - A name shining in the sky Everybody in the Gamer Battalion was looking up at the starry night. Astonished. A ranking of generals had appeared in the sky, formed by constellations of stars. And among the top generals of the Apocalypse, Johan ILoveFurries007 stood proudly at number ten. It was unbelievable. And Johan himself was looking at the sky with an open mouth. Until he realized people were staring at him. Then he closed his mouth and shouted, raising his arms: ¡°What? You thought I didn¡¯t have a plan? The plan is already working! Let¡¯s conquer this fucking world!¡± Eric, the eighteen-year-old leader of the zealot part of the battalion, started cheering: ¡°Let¡¯s fucking do it!¡± Then his small group of zealots joined the cheering. Mark and Arthur looked at each other, overcame their surprise, and started cheering too, trying to get more people to support Johan. Then almost everybody joined in the celebration. Even while shouting, Mark paid attention to the few people who didn¡¯t join the celebration. The one with the bruised eye was among them. He was looking towards the sky as if the stars themselves had betrayed him. ¡°Yeah!¡± said Johan, ¡°Let¡¯s keep building and following the plan! I¡¯ll give you responsibilities. We¡¯ll have people cooking, we¡¯ll organize guard duties, we¡¯ll organize a data-gathering unit! We¡¯ll push together to keep our advantage. And we¡¯ll win! Go, go, go!¡± ¡°Trust the plan, everybody!¡± shouted Eric, who looked at his general with the pride of a doting mother. ¡°Trust the mother-fucking plan!¡± People cheered again, without as much intensity¡ªexcept Eric¡¯s zealots, who reached a climax of euphoria. Then the few people already with assignments moved to do them, making some jokes. And Johan made a gesture towards Mark and Arthur, asking them to follow him. They met with him near the horses. One of the horses had just relieved itself, and the smell was keeping people away. The cleaning duty had already been assigned to various people, without much success. ¡°Is this really part of your plan?¡± muttered Mark, making sure nobody was nearby. ¡°No,¡± Johan answered, also muttering. He stroked the horse''s mane. ¡°Of course not. How could it be? I think it has to be your Class. What did you call it? [Kilser the Traitor - Horseman of the Apocalypse]? It must be something special.¡± ¡°You think?¡± ¡°Has to be. It¡¯s literally the only thing we have accomplished since we arrived here. Like, literally the only thing we have accomplished.¡± Johan looked at Arthur. He was a little disconnected from the conversation and kept looking up into the sky. ¡°Are you wishing you could become a general?¡± Johan asked, smiling a little. Mark laughed. ¡°Impossible. My friend here is not arrogant enough to believe his name should shine in the sky with the likes of Genghis Khan, Napoleon, and Alexander the Great. Arthur stopped looking at the sky, laughed a little, and gave them the middle finger. Then he said that he would get everything ready to go back to the battlefield and walked away. ¡°He didn¡¯t get angry, right?¡± Johan asked. ¡°Nah,¡± Mark answered. ¡°He does have a sense of humor. If he didn¡¯t, he would be a fucking nightmare.¡± Johan looked at Arthur getting away from them. ¡°Your friend terrifies me a little,¡± he muttered. Mark thought about some of the things Arthur had done. ¡°He probably should,¡± he eventually answered. ¡°And now let¡¯s get ready to walk back, in the middle of the night, the last ten fucking hours.¡± But Johan didn¡¯t seem ready to stop talking. He looked thoughtfully at the sky. ¡°It is interesting, isn¡¯t it? You accomplished a certain criteria, and got a Class. But I feel that at most you accomplished the letter of the Law, not the spirit of it. You know; we didn¡¯t really hate you when we told you fuck you, Mark. It was mostly a joke.¡± ¡°Mostly?¡± Mark asked, smiling a little. Johan chuckled and patted him on the back before starting to walk away, thinking aloud: ¡°This could be big¡­ very big¡­ Potentially. Keep your Class a secret for now, will you? I think it could be valuable to keep it confidential for the moment.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you make sure nobody starts leveling in useless stuff?¡± Johan stopped walking and looked at him, daunted. ¡°This will be a difficult conversation to have without sounding like a crazy person¡­¡± And it probably wouldn¡¯t help that he had just drunk three big glasses of wine, not having eaten basically anything in the whole day. ¡°Yeah,¡± Mark said, returning him the pat on the back and walking away. ¡°Good luck.¡± Mark noticed Tobias was waiting for him. The overweight man had run out of the commander tent as soon as the conversation with Johan had been over. And he had gotten ready to leave, as if afraid they would decide to leave him behind. ¡°We¡¯ll leave in ten minutes. Arthur just told me. I¡¯ll go too,¡± Tobias said very fast. ¡°Sure. Cool,¡± answered Mark. He meant it; he was starting to like the guy. Mark started to walk away, wanting to take a leak before leaving for the battlefield, when Tobias added: ¡°Do you think Johan will hold a grudge after what happened?¡± Mark looked at him, a little confused: ¡°What? What happened?¡± ¡°Well, you threatened him. Because you guys were threatening him. That¡¯s how you got that information.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Oh, that?¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°He was treated like an adult. He will need people like us. He¡¯ll see it soon enough.¡± Tobias got thoughtful and stared for a few seconds at Johan, who was trying to explain the whole business of Classes and Skills to a very skeptical audience. And trying to answer as many questions as possible, without giving any details about his theories on exponential growth, just explaining that growth opportunities were limited, and they shouldn¡¯t waste them in useless Classes. He finished by asking everybody to cancel any possible level-up they received¡ªit was something you could do, he said. Johan¡¯s explanations were given in a decided tone. With authority. He was growing fast into his position as a leader. It probably helped that he was a little buzzed. Mark looked at the silent Tobias. He seemed a little sad, even guilty. It was probably too much: the selling of souls, plans of world-conquer, gods enjoying the suffering of the living¡­ so many secrets¡­ And now walking through a forest filled with enemies to recover a magic book. ¡°You don¡¯t have to stay with us, you know¡­¡± Mark said. ¡°You can leave us and focus on cooking or something like that. Maybe help with logistics. We will not force you to come with us. As long as you keep quiet about the things you have heard.¡± Tobias raised his eyebrows. ¡°What? No! I don¡¯t want to leave! I want to go with you! ¡°Are you sure?¡± Tobias got more serious. He looked around to make sure nobody was listening, and he said: ¡°I lived my whole life being a good person, or at least not a bad one. And I died knowing my life had been worthless. And I hated knowing that I had been a coward. I will do anything to make this opportunity count. I¡¯m in. All the respect I got for the bloodied sable? Give me a chance and I swear I¡¯ll earn it.¡± ¡°Sorry, you just seemed a little worried¡­¡± ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to leave.¡± ¡°Okay, sure. Cool. I¡¯ll go take a leak, see you on the side of the camp in a few minutes.¡± Mark started to walk away, towards the latrines they had excavated, trying to get a little intimacy¡­ And Tobias walked at his side and started talking: ¡°It¡¯s not about that. I¡¯m not worried about taking risks with you guys¡­ It¡¯s just¡­ Did Arthur really kill you? Like, was he your actual murderer?¡± Mark remembered having said so just before the Mongol charge. And now he looked around to make sure nobody had listened. Thankfully, nobody seemed to be eavesdropping. ¡°Lower your voice,¡± he muttered. ¡°And yeah. He killed me. But there were attenuating circumstances. Like, I clearly don¡¯t hold a grudge, do I?¡± In this case the attenuating circumstance was a giant mobster named Tito. ¡°No. I guess not,¡± Tobias got a little thoughtful. ¡°I have done some pretty fucked-up things too, you know? Back on Earth.¡± Mark had once killed Tito¡¯s lieutenant with an iron pipe, crushing his skull until not even his family could have recognized him. So he was very curious about what Tobias, a guy whose deep eyes exposed a vulnerable and sensitive soul, considered ¡°pretty fucked-up things¡±. ¡°Did you? Can you give me an example?¡± Tobias took a couple of deep breaths. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m the one who made the fuck you meme video that made Johan famous. I didn¡¯t leak it at the beginning¡ªwhen it went viral in the Counter-Strike community¡ªbut once the supervolcano exploded, I made the video and put it on YouTube. The one with the government Mark side by side with Tobias screaming fuck you, Mark like a madman. And it blew up. I never considered the effect it had on Johan¡­ I feel like shit, now knowing how much it made him suffer¡­ So I understand how Arthur must have felt about¡­ well, what he did to you.¡± So murdering me in cold blood and making a meme are now on the same level?Mark thought, vaguely offended at the notion. ¡°And my feelings are even more complex because¡­¡± continued Tobias. Mark realized with dismay he would have to relieve himself while listening to Tobias¡¯s regrets about creating some goddamn meme Mark had never even seen¡­ A meme that consisted of saying fuck you, Mark over and over. ¡°You know what?¡± Mark said, changing directions and going to the other side of the camp, where Arthur would be waiting. ¡°I don¡¯t need to pee right now. I can do it in the forest later. Let¡¯s go find Arthur and start the mission.¡± ¡°Really? Sure,¡± said Tobias, following him. Then he continued talking about the meme. ¡°And yes, the video must have gotten like ten billion views or something crazy like that... But it¡¯s not like I made any money with it, you know? They took down my YouTube channel, so I didn¡¯t get any money from Adsense or anything. Like, that has to count for something, right? Johan cannot get angry for something that was basically an artistic expression, made completely altruistically.¡± Altruistic?, Mark thought. You just said you tried to monetize it, didn¡¯t you? And how many ¡°fuck you, Mark¡¯s¡± are in ten billion views? ¡°And it made a lot of people happy,¡±Tobias continued. ¡°In the end, even if you consider the possible suffering of Johan¡ªwhich I think is horrible, of course¡ª, in the end, I did generate more happiness than sadness. So that has to count for something too, right?¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± The young man who had climbed up the folds on the statue¡¯s cloak, so he could keep watch over the forest, was now begging for help to get down. A few people had been shouting him useless ideas from below. Then a couple of guys started making jokes¡ªsome of them pretty funny¡ªand the situation threatened to become a roast of the poor lookout. Eric, who had been cleaning the horse¡¯s excrements to prove that even the ¡°second-in-command¡± was willing to do anything to help the Battalion, was now shouting for his zealots to find a rope to help their fellow idiot. When Mark passed by his side, Eric took a moment to smile at him and say: ¡°Fuck you, Mark.¡± ¡°Fuck you, Eric,¡± Mark answered, rolling his eyes but smiling a little. In the last few hours, they might have repeated this ritual like thirty times. Eric didn¡¯t seem to be able to get enough of it, and Mark found it slightly amusing. Tobias continued talking, completely self-absorbed in his weird internal struggle: ¡°And it¡¯s true that I tried to recapture a little bit of the fame, by making a few dozen different versions of the meme. You know, putting the fuck you, Mark video of Johan on other montages. But it didn¡¯t work. It was like trying to capture lightning in a bottle¡­ Oh! What¡¯s going on there?¡± They had arrived at the limit of the camp. And found Arthur arguing with a group of young men. There were about twenty of them, and their leader was the guy with the bruised eye. Arthur was smiling at him. And it was a very dangerous smile. ¡°You¡¯re going to the battlefield, right?¡± was saying the guy with the bruised eye. ¡°We want to go with you.¡± Somebody had already gone to warn Johan, who arrived almost running, having stopped his improvised questions and answers forum. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°You¡¯re sending them to the battlefield, right?¡± repeated the guy with the bruised eye. ¡°To recover the book. We want to go there too.¡± Arthur smiled, still staring at the guy with the bruised eye. ¡°And I just told them that this fucking mission will only be successful if we can do it with a small team. Fast and silent. I¡¯m not babysitting twenty dudes. Most of them unarmed.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not asking you to babysit. We¡¯ll be able to handle ourselves.¡± Mark looked at the group. They seemed angry. Extremely distrustful of Johan and everybody who worked with him. It didn¡¯t surprise him that most of them were people who hadn¡¯t cheered Johan a few minutes ago. ¡°Why would you want to go back to the battlefield?¡± asked Johan. ¡°What was your name? Gustav?¡± ¡°Yes¡±, answered the guy. ¡°And there will be weapons on the battlefield. All these people want to be armed.¡± ¡°Yes, or do you want only your little friends to be armed?¡± said another guy. He was the one who had been searched by Eric and the Zealots, all his belongings thrown onto the ground for everybody to see. So they have noticed the weapon distribution¡­ Mark thought. The man who had had all his belongings trampled over in front of everybody looked with contempt at Eric, who had formed his zealots behind Johan. Mark realized with dismay that some of those idiots were holding the hilts of their weapons, as if ready to draw their swords. Gustav and a few of his men ¡ªthe ones armed¡ªalso started to hold their weapons, ready to fight. Mark looked at Arthur. Neither of them liked this situation. They didn¡¯t want a fight; they had enough enemies already with all the armies of the forest. But they didn¡¯t want to go back to the forest with twenty guys who disliked them. If they turned against them, they wouldn¡¯t stand a chance. It could be better to finish this now, when they were not outnumbered. When they had Eric¡¯s and the zealots¡¯ support. When most of their enemies were still unarmed. Fucking hell¡­ I¡¯m not doing very well in my attempts to change my ways¡­ Mark felt within, and although [Traitor¡¯s Premonition] was again depleted after his heroic avoidance of a candle¡­Thanks for that, Arthur, [Phantom Presence] was again at least half-recovered. And that would be enough. He decided on a plan. Quick and easy. He was going to taunt Gustav, let him try a swing at him with the sword, avoid it with [Phantom Presence], and murder him in front of everybody, cementing once and for all Johan¡¯s position as the leader. Mark took a step towards Gustav, approaching his hand to his dagger, getting ready to fight. Arthur seemed to follow his train of thought. And he too approached his hand to the hilt of his sword¡­ Ch 11 - Back to the Battlefield Mark was ready to provoke Gustav, and then murder him in front of everybody to cement Johan¡¯s authority in the group. Arthur would back his play. Gustav saw Mark walking towards him and got a little pale, approaching his hand to his own sword¡ªsuddenly, he didn¡¯t seem so confident¡­ Some of his men also got ready to fight, with grim expressions on their faces. Others seemed to consider just now what they had been signing up for¡­ But then a young woman walked in the middle of it all. She was about twenty years old, pretty, with her long, blond hair pulled back with a piece of cloth. The ill-fitted medieval clothes she was wearing were too big for her, and it seemed as if she had dressed up in her big brother¡¯s clothes. ¡°I also want to go back to the battlefield,¡± she said. And when she noticed the looks of surprise on the men around her, she added, ¡°What? If the whole business of the Classes and Skills is true, I want to be strong.¡± She pointed to the forest. ¡°Most of the soldiers out there are murderers, and I¡¯m not stupid enough to believe they will have very educated views on women. So I refuse to be weak.¡± She looked at Johan and continued talking: ¡°In our old world I had tools to defend myself. My daddy taught me to shoot. Aim at the head, he always said. If somebody comes at you with bad intentions, he is less than a cockroach, so always aim at the head. And don¡¯t hesitate.It happened once, you know? And I did not hesitate.¡± She looked at Mark and Gustav, who still kept an eye on each other. ¡°So if you boys have stopped seeing who has the biggest¡­ sword. Maybe we can come back and get some weapons for everybody. If we grab all the holding bags, we¡¯ll probably have enough space for a couple hundred swords.¡± Arthur smiled and approached her. ¡°Emily, I think it¡¯s great that you want to defend yourself. And I¡¯ll gladly teach you some moves when we¡¯re back...¡± Emily? Mark thought, then he remembered she was the girl who had been riding with Arthur during most of the day. But not the girl who had gone out of the tent with him¡­ So something had happened there. I¡¯m sure you would love to show her some moves¡­ Mark thought with a smirk, always happy to see his friend failing in love affairs. It helped to keep his massive ego anchored in reality. Arthur continued: ¡°And yes. I¡¯m fucking awesome and could probably protect you all with my big, powerful sword...¡± Somewhat anchored in reality¡­ mentally added Mark. ¡°But this is¡­¡± Arthur kept talking. ¡°And everybody should really fucking make an effort to process it¡­¡± he looked around, ¡°THIS IS A FUCKING STEALTH MISSION!¡± Some birds started flying away from the trees surrounding them. ¡°We cannot have twenty people walking around in the forest and hope nobody will notice us!¡± Arthur continued: ¡°We are going to recover one specific item. A fucking magic book, as stupid as it sounds, that will help us open new ways to protect ourselves. We cannot, and I want to stress, we cannot hope to pass unnoticed if twenty people are walking around in the forest.¡± Johan approached him and whispered something in his ear. Arthur listened for a few seconds, scowling. Then whispered something back. Johan whispered again in his ear, with some urgency. Then Arthur rolled his eyes and sounded angry when he said: ¡°Everybody who wants to come can come,¡± he pointed with a finger at Gustav. ¡°But you better be able to carry your own weight. I¡¯m not babysitting anybody. We¡¯ll be leaving in ten minutes.¡± And he walked away, entering one of the tents. And suddenly, for some reason Mark didn¡¯t quite understand, they were going to walk through a forest filled with armies, surrounded by people who didn¡¯t quite like them. People they were about to attack just a few minutes ago. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Better start mingling...¡± Mark muttered. ¡°What?¡± Tobias asked. To his credit, he had seemed willing to back their play. Now he let go the hilt of his saber with obvious relief. ¡°Start mingling,¡± repeated Mark. ¡°Make friends. Loyalties are not yet formed, not really. These people are following this Gustav because they are afraid. They need somebody to protect them. To guide them. So let¡¯s start making some friends.¡± It will be less likely they will stab us in the back if they know our name, Mark thought, but didn¡¯t say out loud to avoid worrying Tobias. Mark eyed the group, and approached the three guys who seemed the least hostile. ¡°So¡­ have you seen the idiot from the statue?¡± he asked them, pointing back, where an even bigger group than before was looking up and trying to find a way to bring the lookout down. A few minutes later, and after Mark had started a friendly wager with six of the guys, betting some stuff on whether or not the guy over the statue would manage to get down without breaking some bones, Mark entered the tent and told Arthur that they were ready. Arthur came back and established his leadership by ordering some of the men to scout and make sure nobody ambushed the group. He chose the men by pointing his fingers at them. ¡°You to the back, you to the left, you to the right. And you¡­ to the front.¡± The one who would scout in front of the group for the first two hours was Gustav. He opened his mouth, probably to ask who had put Arthur in charge, but a glare from Arthur made him shut up fast. Unsurprisingly to Mark¡ªbecause he had told him to do it¡ªArthur had chosen for scouting the most hostile men of the group. A couple of hours of isolation would hopefully allow them to get a decent relationship with everybody else. Some people from the Gamer Battalion wished them luck. And without any further preparation, they walked away from the camp, from the warmth of the fires they had just started. Deep into the night. They had just managed to walk around the massive fallen statue when they heard a shout of fear, the sound of something hitting the ground, and then some screams of pain. The guy above the statue seemed to have found the fast way down. Mark cringed a little; he had gambled that the guy would manage to get down without breaking anything¡ªand he was pretty sure he had lost that bet. And one of his daggers. ¡°Fuck you,¡± he told two of the guys who approached to collect. ¡°Nothing¡¯s for sure until we come back and check the idiot for damages.¡± And then, guided by the victory fingers of Johan shining in the sky¡ªwhich were in the approximate direction of the battlefield¡ªthey started their return towards the place they had resurrected in. Hours passed. It was easy avoiding the camps of the different armies they found. They had fires and were making a lot of noise, talking, shouting, and in some cases, celebrating. It was good they had decided to go back to the battlefield on the first night. Mark was sure that in the future everybody would get more focused and alert. They changed scouts a couple of times. Discipline relaxed. Hostility melted away. Easy come, easy gone, Mark thought. He felt a little guilty about his first instinct of trying to murder Gustav. Being fair, this group of men¡ªand one woman¡ªhad some real courage if they were willing to risk their lives like they were doing. I have to remember that these are normal people, not the usual scum I used to surround myself with. As they walked, Mark, Tobias, and Arthur moved through the group, one conversation at a time. Finding common ground. Trying to get everybody to be more comfortable with them. Tobias approached the guy who had been searched by Eric and the zealots and told him: ¡°What they did to you was wrong. When we are back, we¡¯ll speak with Johan and agree on some common ground for how people in the gamer battalion should be treated.¡± The young man looked at him with distrust. ¡°I mean it,¡± Tobias insisted. ¡°I hated seeing what they did. It felt violating.¡± The man softened a little. His hands were shaking. ¡°I felt so much¡­ impotence. They came with swords, and suddenly I could do nothing. I couldn¡¯t move. My entire body froze up. They could do whatever they wanted with me. They stopped at searching my belongings. But what stopped them from beating me into a pulp? Or worse? I will never feel like that again. And that¡¯s one of the two reasons I want a sword¡­¡± ¡°One of the reasons?¡± ¡°Yes. The other reason is the way Eric looked while he did it¡­ The excited smile on that little shit¡¯s face¡­ I will remember that. I will fucking remember that.¡± Gustav approached them and interrupted by saying: ¡°Tobias, I keep thinking, and for my life, I cannot see how you killed, or even injured, one of the Mongols. Like, I saw most of the thing. I know Mark and Arthur killed a Mongol each. We all saw it, even if from the forest I couldn¡¯t see the details. But the blood spurting from the throat of the Mongol Mark killed was hard to miss, even from a distance. But I don¡¯t understand how you hit an enemy, when I remember seeing you in the bottom of the hill, just watching without doing anything. Like a coward.¡± Gustav had spoken raising his voice, so everybody in the group could listen to him. Conversations died down, and everybody focused on Tobias, waiting for his answer. And suddenly Mark felt some of his cheerful feelings of comradery slipping away. Sometimes your first instincts really are the right ones, he thought with a little regret, thinking that they wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation if he had just stabbed Gustav. Tobias didn''t know how to respond. He looked like a deer in headlights, and only managed to look around and mutter something unintelligible. ¡°Well, I¡­ You know, I¡­¡± Ch 12 — Tobias’s bloody sword Gustav had demanded explanations from Tobias about his bloodied saber¡ªthe one Mark had bloodied hitting an already dead Mongol. And Tobias was looking around like a deer in headlights, not really knowing what to answer. Arthur came to his rescue. He had been talking in private with Emily, and now he walked over and answered: ¡°Tobias saved my life. One of the Mongols survived the Romans throwing their javelins. He fell from his horse, but he wasn¡¯t too badly injured. Everything was pure fucking chaos. I was already on the ground, after being hit by a terrified horse, and the Mongol tried to finish me. I was about to be killed when Tobias arrived running and hit that motherfucker on the back, and stabbed him again when he was on the ground. He was scared. Who wouldn¡¯t be? But he did what had to be done. Without him, I would be dead already. He saved my life.¡± Arthur improvised all those lies without blinking an eye. And he seemed truly furious when he approached Gustav and told him: ¡°This is no longer the past. This is no longer a world where you can hide behind some fucking username and insult other people¡¯s honor, knowing they have no way of defending themselves.¡± He shoved Gustav, forcing him to retreat a few steps, hitting the trunk of a tree with his back. ¡°If I ever see you again attacking the honor and good name of one of my friends¡­¡± continued Arthur. ¡°I will fucking kill you.¡± Arthur looked at the people surrounding him. ¡°Let¡¯s bring back duels. Let¡¯s bring back honor. Let¡¯s go back to the good old times when assholes had to really mind their tongues, or risk having them cut when the good people decided to defend themselves.¡± Then he focused again on Gustav. He approached a hand to his sword and looked at the one on Gustav¡¯s side. ¡°Maybe you want to go at it right now?¡± Gustav looked pale. ¡°No. I¡­¡± he looked at Tobias. ¡°I apologize, man. My words were out of line.¡± Mark looked at the barely hidden anger in Gustav¡¯s eyes, and knew that this wasn¡¯t over. Then he approached Arthur, and they walked together for a while, keeping a little distance from everybody else. Mark looked at Gustav, walking with some of the men, murmuring, also keeping their distance. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have called him out like that,¡± he told Arthur. In any case, Mark wasn¡¯t surprised. Arthur had always been deeply protective of his people. It surprised him more that he considered Tobias one of his people. ¡°I know,¡± Arthur answered. ¡°But I fucking hate people like that.¡± ¡°It could be a problem.¡± ¡°Not right now. I doubt he has the balls to try to kill us in cold blood. And I see how you earned some of these people¡¯s trust. So I doubt he has much of a hand to play anyway.¡± ¡°What did Johan tell you to convince you to take everybody with us? Back at the camp.¡± Arthur had been adamant about not bringing too many people on the mission to recover the magic book. But after Johan had whispered something to him, he allowed everybody who wanted to come to follow them. ¡°He told me he didn¡¯t trust all these guys,¡± he gestured to everybody who surrounded them, ¡°not to try something while we were not there to protect him¡­¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°And you decided they would be much better with us? They just outnumber us ten to one. Very smart.¡± Arthur shrugged. ¡°We decided to back his play, didn¡¯t we? So we¡¯re backing his play. Hopefully, he¡¯ll cement his position while we¡¯re gone. Also¡­¡± he looked around to make sure nobody was looking. ¡°He kind of begged me to. And I felt bad saying no.¡± Mark thought about their brave leader, his face still shining in the sky. Currently the tenth most powerful general in Earth¡¯s history. He remembered that he had also begged the old man from the temple to get a better start position. ¡°That dude is getting too used to begging...¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ Not very inspiring, is he? General Johan, the Beggar, the Furry Lover.¡± ¡°Johan, Beggar in Chief.¡± ¡°I imagine him all angry, threatening another general, and whispering with fury in his voice: Don¡¯t make me get on my knees and beg you to stop¡­¡± Mark laughed. ¡°No wonder the dude ended up becoming a famous meme. He is a walking meme.¡± They had been making those jokes a little too loudly, laughing too loud, and people heard and approached them. They, too, had jokes to make. And soon the conversation devolved into a brutal roast of their beloved general. Mark felt kind of bad, because the objective had been to improve Johan¡¯s position and increase people¡¯s respect for him. And he was pretty sure some of the nicknames would be muttered behind Johan for a really long time¡­ Because I¡¯ll be the one muttering them¡­ he thought, taking mental note of some particularly imaginative ones. Anyway, it¡¯s better to be mocked than hated¡­ nobody is stabbed in the back for being a well-intentioned fool¡­ he added, knowing the excuse for the disloyalty was extremely hollow. Then Tobias proved helpful again. ¡°And half the idiots in this forest must be terrified of him, thinking he has to be a brutal motherfucker.¡± People laughed at the absurdity of it all. And they seemed a little proud to be in on the joke. Part of the Gamer Battalion. The tenth most powerful army in the history of Earth. Mark saw an opening. He tried to gain some goodwill with Gustav. He looked at him and said: ¡°You have to recognize his plan is not bad, Gustav. He was dealt a shitty hand, and the idea of specializing in magic and things the others will not understand is good. He saw an opportunity when others would have fallen to despair.¡± ¡°Sure¡­¡± conceded Gustav, who didn¡¯t seem very moved by Mark¡¯s little attempt at diplomacy. ¡°As long as it works. Right now, we are without weapons, without the magic book, and without any real chance of surviving this shit. But hey, his fucking face is in the sky.¡± ¡°He looks like a fool¡­¡± Gustav added, scowling at the sky. Mark looked at the constellation shining dimly in the dark sky. The stars seemed to be moving as the night moved on. And that made the image of Johan move with them. He seemed to be smiling more deeply, and winking an eye while he raised even more the V-sign of victory he made with his fingers. ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s something we can agree on,¡± Mark answered. Gustav looked back, toward the place where they had been camping. ¡°At least it will be easy to come back to the camp,¡± he said. They had been worried about finding the Gamer Battalion again. But their ability to find the direction Johan was in didn¡¯t seem to have any limit. If they focused, they could see his gamer-tag even from this distance. Another hour passed. Tobias, who was now the scout on the right flank, ran back towards them. ¡°Something weird is happening a mile away. Like, super weird.¡± Everybody followed Tobias¡ªexcept a couple of guys who walked away, to call back the rest of the scouts to make sure they didn¡¯t get lost. The relaxed conversations of just a moment ago had been replaced by tense silence. And in that silence, they started to hear the shouts, the orders, the screams of pain coming from the distance. They kept approaching, trying their hardest not to make any noise. And about a hundred yards away, they reached a small ridge, and on the other side, half a mile away, they saw two armies apparently getting ready to fight. One of them was seriously outnumbered, with only twenty soldiers. The other one, with a little more than fifty, was maneuvering to cut off any escape route. Mark focused on the smaller army, and a name-tag appeared above one of its soldiers¡ªover a man currently threatening his enemies with his massive axe. [Erik Bloodaxe - Viking King] ¡°No way¡­¡± Mark muttered. The last time he had seen Erik, he had been trampled over by a horse. ¡°He survived the Mongol charge?¡± There was a cloud of shimmering smoke floating above the battlefield, illuminating the soldiers below. That cloud of smoke started to coalesce until it showed the giant moving form of Erik Bloodaxe silently shouting something in defiance. The moving cloud was taller than the trees from the forest around. And above, some strange letters shimmered. ¡°The Hunt of Erik Bloodaxe will begin in¡­¡± And a countdown started. The shimmering smoke above changing shapes to form numbers: 10. 9. 8¡­