Condemned Book 2: A Progression Fantasy LitRPG Series (Lord Valevsky: Last of the Line) E-Book

Vasily Mahanenko

• Herausgeber: Magic Dome Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Max, formerly Maximilian Valevsky, begins to understand what it means to exist in a dark world dominated by light. People hate him, exploit him, fear him, and try to kill him the first chance they get. But our hero is willing to endure all trials and tribulations in pursuit of his goal: killing Duke Odoevsky and avenging his family. And he’ll let nothing stand in his way.

Leseprobe

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

About the Author

Vasily Mahanenko

Condemned

Book 2

Lord Valevsky: Last of the Line

A Progression Fantasy Series

Published by Magic Dome Books

Condemned Book 2: A Progression Fantasy Series

(Lord Valevsky: Last of the Line)

Copyright © V. Mahanenko 2023

Cover Art © Lunar 2023

Cover Design V. Manyukhin

English translation copyright © Taylor Elise Margvelashvili 2023

Published by Magic Dome Books, 2023

Anschrift: Podkovářská 933/3, Vysočany, 190 00

Praha 9 Czech Republic IC: 28203127

All Rights Reserved

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to shop and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental..

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Chapter 1

“I SUPPOSE YOU SHOULD give them names,” said my mentor. Once long ago, presumably in a past life, he had been human, but those days were gone forever. Now the Evil Engineer was one of the four dark beasts officially acknowledged as “purified” by the Church of the Light. A convert who had managed to wrest himself free from the control of the dark god Skron. Nonetheless, much of the Evil Engineer’s former essence remained. Primarily his aura that manifested as a dark fog, eternally gloomy demeanor, lousy mood and indelible desire to dominate everything and everyone. I could also add sadistic inclinations to the list, of course, but these I think he was born with.

“Why? They’re just weapons,” I replied, rising from the ground. I wanted to really tear into someone, but managed to contain my emotions. Everyone who’d come running from all over the arena in anticipation of a free healing was significantly superior to me in strength. The Magical Academy of the Zarak Empire was attended by the chosen ones — children from the highest rungs of society, whose parents spared no expense for their precious progeny. Enhancements had boosted their physical stats immensely, turning the young men and women into real monsters. What could I say when my partner, Karina Fardi, could easily bench press a hundred and twenty kilograms? A twenty-year-old girl with a figure like a concubine from a romance novel!

“Healing’s over!” the Evil Engineer called out loudly without removing his heavy gaze from me. “Just weapons? You called your katars ‘just weapons?’ Get up, peasant! This obstacle course won’t run itself! Fardi, enough wallowing around! In plank position! One handed, dipstick! Other behind your back. Max, Skron mark me, if you fall off again you’ll be down there with your partner! You have to pass the pendulums! Move it, dead weight!”

This was how my training sessions passed, serenaded by my mentor’s encouraging and occasionally motivating diatribes. But I should probably say a few words about myself to explain how I became destined to such a complete shitshow of a life.

I’m a doomed soldier by the alias Max, once from the glorious Valevsky Barony. “Once,” past tense, because officially, the barony no longer exists. The Duke of Odoevsky framed my family — there’s not a doubt in my mind — and then had them all executed. No trial, no investigation, although on paper, I was told, everything had been above board. Even the emperor approved of this demonstrative flogging of some insignificant family, just so the whole empire understood: only a chosen few have rights in this world. I was lucky, if you can say that — instead of the gallows, I was delegated to a particular caste of “doomed soldiers.” The qualitative composition of this community was highly specific: murderers, rapists, embezzlers of public funds, those who the highest ranks simply found objectionable — but even here, among the dregs of society, people were further divided into two groups. Those who owned magic stones and everyone else. I fell into the first category and was assigned six months of study at the academy, so that I may at least survive my first encounter with a dark beast. For even among death row inmates, mages had their value. Once I arrived at the academy, I was appointed to a sadist named the Evil Engineer, who for some reason, stubbornly insisted that his bullying was training, as well as a partner who by chance turned out to be the daughter of the very same Duke of Odoevsky. I think that brief summary should catch you up to speed. Although there’s one more thing. Those katars…

The weapons had been gifted to me by a doomed soldier who went by the name Countess. It had once belonged to one of her warriors, but the rifts that spawned dark beasts were merciless. Savage, as the warrior had been known, was gone, but now I had these rather interesting swords. Or, more precisely, long knives. As soon as we got back to the academy however, the monitor assigned to me by the Fortress (the highest governing body/building of the Church of the Light) confiscated my weapons and I never saw them again. Fast forward a day, back at the academy, two shaggy looking schmucks paid me a visit, measured me up and down, so that another three days later, Father Nor, the Fortress’ official representative at the academy, could, in a very solemn manner (that is, in the presence of the chancellor and head of security), present me with the handiwork of the local artisans. Automated steel katars tailored to my body. The very same spring action mechanics, in fact, but executed with much more skill and grace. The length of the retractable blade had been increased to twenty-five centimeters, and it had also gained the ability to transform. From now on, I could summon forth either a thin spike capable of boring a hole in even the thickest set of armor, or a wide double-edged blade designed to shred flesh. But the strangest and most unusual thing was that I was allowed to carry this weapon freely within the academy! For from now on it was an integral part of the doomed soldier named Max. And, it’s worth noting, the fit was significantly better than the previous pair.

“We’re done with our warm ups for today!” said the Evil Engineer when I once again fell off the obstacle course. “Max is at the training grounds this afternoon, Fardi is free for today. Doomer, make sure your partner makes it to breakfast.”

“I want to go to the training grounds too!” croaked Fardi, holding herself horizontal with the last of her strength. It’s hard enough to hold a plank, let alone one-handed, and with two ten-kilogram plates on your back, it’s practically impossible. Impossible for an ordinary person, because Karina had been holding it for several minutes and counting.

“Do you need help, Fortress Sister?” I stopped a few paces from Fardi. A week had passed since our return from the rift, during which we, without saying a word, had developed a new style of communication. Deliberately amicable, with the clear knowledge that in six months, we would turn back into enemies. Someday I would kill Karina. Or she me. There was no other option, no matter what you read in romance novels. Just as the Valevsky family ceased to exist, so the Fardi family would cease to exist. No other choice was given.

“If it’s not too much trouble, Doomer Brother,” Karina replied just as courteously, allowing me to do something that, in polite society, would be grounds for a duel. I stood the girl on her feet and began patting the sticky sawdust, shavings, and lord knows what else from her jumpsuit. Karina’s bottom, on which she had fallen repeatedly, was particularly affected. However, Fardi calmly endured this treatment. It was much more important for her to leave the arena clean than not to be touched by a doomer. An entity that, officially, does not exist.

“Will you make it there yourself, or shall I escort you, Fortress Sister?”

“I would like to give up your company, Doomer Brother, but I have no such occasion.” Karina all but collapsed on me. She no longer had the strength to move of her own volition. On top of that, no one had lifted the rule set down in our first training session stating that we were forbidden from taking recovery elixirs until we made it to our own beds. The two servants of the Light assigned to Fardi and I as monitors watched closely to ensure compliance.

What other notable things happened this week? There were perhaps two events worth singling out. For starters, I received a clear daily schedule. Up at five thirty. Half an hour for personal hygiene and transportation to the arena. Two-hour warm up, after which I either dragged Karina back, or she me. We switched roles frequently. Shower. Breakfast. From ten to two in the afternoon was a series of classes, some of which I took with the first year groups. And the looks I got from the first years on day one! There was so much fear in their eyes, it was as if a krona had appeared before them. Worse — a doomer with a weapon! Save yourselves while you can! But I’m waxing poetic. At two o’clock I had a hearty lunch, after which the heat really came down — my main training with the Evil Engineer. From four o’clock until I could no longer breathe. Then another half hour. Dinner technically started at nine, but in all seven days, I still had never managed to crawl there on time. After a shower, I fell into bed and got something I had never even hoped for: personal time. Two hours of personal time! True, I had to spend it solely on reading textbooks, but my doomer neighbors used theirs to the fullest, playing some kind of game with dice made from chunks of bread. At exactly 11 p.m., the changing of the guards took place, books were taken away and lights were turned off. The clerics were careful to ensure that doomers got their rest before the next day. They basically only followed me — the other guys were just my companions in suffering.

That was the first notable item. The second was the daily one-hour meetings with Father Nor and one of the red robes. And the meeting times were constantly changing. Sometimes I was pulled out of exercises, from training, deprived of lunch — nothing seemed to faze the servants of the Light. They seated me at the table, sat down opposite and started asking me the same thing for the hundredth time. Everyone was interested in this piece of the map. The churchmen’s excitement when I told them what I had received from the Master was beyond words. I’ve never seen so many members of the Fortress security services in one place. It seemed as if they’d fill the whole academy. What didn’t they do to me in those first few days — studied, tested, took some sort of analyses…even took a peek in areas that should never see the sun. And to top it all off, they warned me right off the bat that any disobedience would lead them to beat me to death and snatch the piece of the map from my corpse. Apparently, the only thing stopping the clerics from taking this measure was the fear that they wouldn’t be able to obtain anything from a dark creature. I had to draw the map fragment, which was located in a special tab on my status bar, three times, each time explaining that it would be impossible to fill in the missing pieces. Because I only had one of five fragments. I did not inform the representatives of the Fortress about the fact that somewhere inside me was also one of the twelve shards of the Amplify stone. This was my ticket to freedom and I had no intention of giving it to anyone. There was a significant gap in my education in the subjects of both geography and heraldry, so I had no clue which part of our world was being depicted in the drawing. Although it became clear from the churchmen’s reactions that they understood perfectly well what region it was referencing. But, of course, no one was going to inform me. Not ‘til I’m older.

I set off along the familiar route. First, I dragged Karina back to my place, where I collapsed on the bed, held up the full vial of recovery elixir for our monitors to see, gulped it down, then got up and dragged my partner to her bed. The right to enter the academy dorms had been personally granted to me by Zurgan Shor. In Karina’s room, I had to once again demonstrate the vial was full, then poured the entirety of the contents into Fardi’s mouth and enjoyed a few minutes of peace. It was a rare moment away from the watchful eyes of our overseers. Both clerics had left the girl’s room and shut the door tightly behind them.

“Fuck, when will I die already?” Karina whispered as the wave of warmth passed through her body.

“Just say the word and I can arrange that for you in an instant,” I offered, sitting down near the bed. Despite the elixir’s effects, my body still ached. “As long as you let the churchmen know that you’re acting of your own free will. Without coercion.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I already wrote my father to tell him you’re still alive and seeking revenge. I’m sure you won’t last a week in the Fortress. The Duke of Odoevsky has great power, a broad circle of connections and very long arms.”

“I don’t give a damn about your daddy’s long arms.” I clenched my fist just right, causing the katars to spring out. With a characteristic click, a long spike appeared, but immediately vanished again. Don’t get provoked. Not in the presence of a Fardi. “I’ll be so close to him that his long arms will only get in the way.”

“I’ll kill you first,” Karina assured me, her eyes never leaving my weapon. “And I’ll take those katars for myself. You know, our mentor was right — masterpieces like that really do deserve their own names. May I suggest ‘Weak’ and ‘Helpless?’ Your natural states of being.”

“As long as they’re not ‘Smug Bitch’ or ‘Soulless Harpy.’ You back to normal yet? Can you make it to breakfast yourself or do I have to drag you there too?”

“Just what I need! They already look at me like a leper because I train with you. Go fail your lessons. I’ll see you tomorrow. I hope I’m lucky and you die at the training grounds.”

“You make sure you don’t accidentally get yourself killed before then. I want to finish you off myself.”

Karina and I had been exchanging such pleasantries all week. For some reason, the clerics were not afraid to leave us on our own. Leaving the room, I found myself in a thick stream of people — students in a hurry to have breakfast so they would be on time to their favorite classes. It was the fourth years, and some groups of third years, who had been stuck in the arena since morning. The first and second years contrived to sleep in as long as possible. Although, judging by some of their puffy faces, they hadn’t gotten to sleep that night. But the arrival of an “elite” tore us all away from the unexpected freedom.

“Princess!” A muffled whisper moved through the rows, causing everyone to press against the wall. Including me. The youngest daughter of the emperor lived in a hostel among us mere mortals. Of course, she enjoyed the liberties dictated by her status: personal bodyguards, who had nearly beaten me up once; her own separate floor, where, without invitation, no student, or even teacher of the academy would dare set foot; a personal chef and even a team of lackeys that was always ready to bear her well-fed majesty off to unknown distances. Miralda Lertan strode regally down the corridor, basking in the attention, when — and this made me rather unhappy — her gaze lingered on me. A terrible look. Anticipation. Stopping nearby, Miralda turned to one of the girls accompanying her:

“It’s only when you lose someone that you begin to realize how much they meant to you. Count Khamalsky, although he was not a traditionally handsome man, and his jokes sooner evoked boredom than a smile, he did everything whole-heartedly, never asking stupid questions. Those who are willing to die for their princess, for a fleeting chance to become one of her favorites, are too few and far between to leave their death unrequited. If you thought your churchmen could protect you, swine, then you were deeply mistaken. Count Khamalsky will be avenged!”

The sudden blow to the back of the head was so strong I thought it must have decapitated me, but instead, it only gave rise to a large sheaf of sparks. Along with the weapon, I had earned the right to keep the rest of my mana and, as a result, almost never switched off my protection. This greatly accelerated my progress through the arena, allowing me to block some of the extremely fast grappling dummies that I had been physically unable to dodge at my current stage of development. This infuriated the mentor, but he realized that he needed to get used to this new reality, since I had turned out to be so weak.

A heart-rending cry was heard and the students rushed out of the corridor in a panic, stampeding toward the doors. Miralda was tucked away behind the enormous shields carried by her two faithful bodyguards, but continued to survey the situation. Armed, I’m sure, with more protection amulets than could be found in the rift below our feet. I noticed all this in passing as I jumped back, pressing my back against the wall so that I’d have time to react to a new attack. Judging by the fact that my mana bar had dropped by half, the blow had been from a very close distance, and would have been fatal. But there was no one near me. Just three poor fellows lying face down on the floor, staining the floor with a huge pool of red. Even Magister Smalog couldn’t help them now. It’s difficult to heal a person who’s missing half his head.

I felt the movement rather than saw it — the space next to me suddenly gained density, transforming into a member of the Noctural Brotherhood. An all-black suit, with only a slit for the eyes to suggest that it was a human attacking, and not the darkness itself. Another close-range blow, this time to the stomach, and I couldn’t dodge or react, so I did something Father Nor and Magister Shor would certainly not give me a pat on the head for.

I activated Dark Spike at the same time as the sword slammed into my defenses, and then threw both hands forward, releasing the katars. My stomach cramped in wild pain — my shield burst and the assassin’s blade entered my body. The student uniform did little to protect me. However, I succeeded as well — the explosion behind my opponent was unexpected enough to throw him forward. Right onto the steel spikes of my katars. If the killer had any amulets, they succumbed to the academy’s gifts. A cloud of stone fragments covered us and I fell to the floor, thoroughly wounded. Zero mana, nothing to heal me, stomach burning as if on fire, threatening to engulf me whole, and my face had taken a good beating too...One thing made me glad: the katars had worked their magic. The freak that had attacked me was gone, once and for all.

“Finish him off!” the princess squealed as soon as the darkness had dissipated. “Kill the dark beast! Immediately!”

One of her guards set his shield aside and even took a step in my direction before a voice full of venom was heard:

“Does the princess wish to encroach on Fortress property?”

The voice belonged to Karina. Knowing full well that I risked losing consciousness from the slightest movement, I tilted my head. Fardi was standing at the doorway I had just recently stepped through. Wet, covered in soap suds, hastily wrapped in a towel that hid nothing from my eyes. But this didn’t bother my partner. She stared at the princess and held her hand out in front of her. The girl was preparing to attack.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Notes of panic rose in Miralda’s voice. The little spectacle she had rehearsed was starting to go off the rails. According to her plan, her chubby little legs should be kicking me in the side at that very moment.

“Watch me. Take another step and I’ll attack! Fardi’s word of honor! Fortress’ honor! This doomer belongs to the church, and it’s not for you to take him!”

Something in Karina’s voice said she wasn’t bluffing. The girl really would attack the princess or her body guards if they got any closer to me.

“He’s done for anyway,” the princess said with vitriol. “Magister Smalog is not at the academy! He won’t survive with a wound like that. Let’s go, I’ve seen all I wanted to.”

A dark haze began to swim before my eyes. The blow to my stomach had proved too serious a wound. I could no longer collect myself enough to stare after the princess. Any movement now would be my last. So all I could do was look up at Fardi, rejoicing that the last thing I saw in this life was not the bared muzzle of a beast biting into my throat, but a beautiful naked female form. Even if it belonged to someone that I would have gladly finished off at the first opportunity.

“Drink! Drink, you bastard!” Karina leaned over me and tried to pry open my mouth. I made an incredible effort and parted my lips and the life-giving moisture of the recovery potion flowed inside.

“Shit, the wound’s too deep. Hold on!” Karina disappeared into the room, only to return immediately with a few more vials. “Drink and turn on your aura! Turn it on, dark beast! And don’t you dare shut it off early!”

Another stream of liquid went down my gullet and my mana bar jumped sharply up. The Healing Aura pictogram was right there on my status bar, as close as it could be, but it took an incredible amount of effort to get to. Nevertheless, I succeeded, and for eighty seconds my condition improved. The wound, miraculously, was still not healed, but I at least had a hope for salvation. The dark haze cleared from my vision.

“More!” I croaked as soon as the aura ran out. Karina sat next to me the whole time, motionless. The girl understood that any movement was akin to death for me now.

“Not so fast, doomer. You owe me your life, got it? Confirm you understand. Nod, mumble, crap yourself, I don’t care, but I need you to know, dark beast, that you’re in my debt! Or you can die in my arms and I’ll be all in tears, telling the tale of the bad, bad princess who struck down the hero of the rift. You. Owe. Me. Your. Life! And I don’t give a damn that you’re a doomer!”

“Yes,” I croaked without even pausing to think. Without mana, I was dead. Without healing elixirs I was dead. Without outside help — dead. And it didn’t matter who I owed now. It wasn’t to Skron, so it was a way out.

“Drink!” The contents of yet another mana flask vanished down my throat, and Fardi poured another recovery potion on top. My partner was furious. Her movements were ragged, twitchy. She didn’t look like herself at all, and I couldn’t believe that it was due to the stress she was under. There’s no such thing as stress for a person who managed to maintain consciousness during their first foray into the rift. Something incomprehensible was happening to her, but she continued to pour potion after potion into me, trying to pull me back to this world.

When the red robes arrived, I didn’t look up. At some point, the corridor filled with people and there was a rumble of voices, but I couldn’t make anything out. My condition was so dire that I had to skip every other breath. Soon the heaviness in my chest lifted — they removed the bodies of the killers. The fire in my stomach, which had subsided, flared up again, but I managed to remain conscious. My mana was steadily approaching zero, and I needed a new dose of elixir.

I certainly wasn’t about to give up. Because today, I made a new enemy…

(Turb, capital of the Zarak Empire, present)

“Magister Elor, I have good news. We have found a way to fulfill your order.” The servant bowed, waiting for a reaction.

“Explain,” demanded Magister Elor. Preparations for the Wave had drained all the strength from the highest hierarch of the dark god Skron. The slightest error in the huge, six-meter tall pictogram would force them to start over from scratch. The summoning magic Skron had bestowed upon his nearest servants did not require magic stones, amplifiers, or other attributes familiar to mages. Just knowledge, accuracy and a strict sequence of actions and words. Master Elor’s best time to finish a pictogram was two and a half months. But that goal seemed unrealistic now — they’d had to start over from scratch three times already.

“Students are constantly ordering food from local eateries. The guards turn the other cheek — they’re used to the familiar faces that deliver meals. No one checks their bags. A week ago, one of our brothers got a job at a café and just made his first delivery to the academy today. He was checked — a new face. But after three or four weeks, once he becomes familiar, we can stick a well-packaged body into his bag and pass it along to our man within the academy. The deliveries are constant. If necessary, we can deliver ten bodies in a couple of days to initiate the Wave. All your inside man will need to do is perform the ritual correctly.

“This is good news,” Magister Elor nodded and looked up at the pictogram. The dark one preferred the version where the Wave came up through the rift, and not through the pictogram. The feedback was entirely different, and they wouldn’t need to draw anything in the rift.

“Four weeks?” The master looked back at his servant, who nodded confidently. “Okay, you have your chance. Prove that the capital’s coven can keep its word, and Skron will exalt you. I haven’t had pupils for quite some time…”

(Odoevsk, Office of the Duke of Odoevsky, present)

“Your radiance, we have the initial results!” Tari tried to save face and even stopped at the door to wait for permission to enter, but then the duke’s assistant couldn’t help himself, bursting in without consent and launching fervently into his story:

“The chrone was brought to your laboratory under the greatest secrecy. The courier who delivered the parcel certainly won’t be telling anyone. We set everything up, conducted tests, and got this. It works, sir! The equipment you received works! The magical academy is no longer the exclusive producer of magical elixirs!”

With trembling hands, Tari handed his master a small vial, awaiting his response with bated breath. Baleymore Fardi, Duke of Odoevsky, took the vial and drank the contents in one gulp. He had no doubts about the servant — people were people, but this one would not poison him. Not now, when the goal was so close at hand.

The familiar heaviness washed over his head. The duke closed his eyes, surrendering to the will of his senses, and presented his magic stones. One of them needed just one more elixir to boost it up a level. A bright light flashed in his head, causing him to breathe heavily. His auxiliary stone had been boosted one level. A whole level, practically for free!

“How many elixirs can we make?”

“Level boosters — up to fifty units a week. It just depends on the amount of chrone we can get, but our doomers are bringing it in regularly. There’s also a lot of nux, but we’re holding that, as you ordered.”

“We need more. Work round the clock, don’t sleep, I don’t care how you get it done, but the apparatus cannot stop, not even for a second. The sooner we produce a thousand elixirs, the sooner we get the next apparatus. Move!”

Tari left, and the duke leaned back in his chair, a mysterious grin running across his face. They were six months ahead of schedule. The master would be pleased with these results.

Chapter 2

“YOU ARE FREE. Class starts in five minutes.” Father Nor shut his notebook, demonstrating that the hearing was over.

“Class?” I asked, still palpitating my stomach. The nasty scar would remain with me until I could get to a healer. “Hasn’t the chancellor left on important business?”

“He has a substitute. I believe this will be a good lesson for you. We really need to reconsider your training regime in light of recent discoveries. I have already conveyed my thoughts on the matter to the High Priest and he has taken a pause for reflection. Go, dark one. Don’t tempt me to start listing your sins for what happened today…”

This phrase was enough to send me flying out of the office as fast as my legs would take me. I’d been patched up quite quickly — among the clerics was a healer. Not as strong as Magister Smalog, but it was enough to save me from my terrible stomach wound. From what I saw, some of my innards had ended up on the outside, so it couldn’t be repaired in the usual way. The treatment had caused the healer cleric to turn stark white and lose consciousness, completely drained of power, and I was left with this hideous scar across my stomach. The red robes took statements from me and Karina, Magister Zurgan Shor interviewed dozens of ordinary students in order to reconstruct a picture of what happened, and pretty quickly, everyone understood exactly what had gone down in the dorms. The princess, using her privileged position, had snuck a member of the forbidden nocturnal brotherhood into the academy. Any other student would be sitting in shackles in front of Zurgan Shor right now, fervently confessing to how they organized the hit and where they found the assassin’s contact, but not Miralda Lertan. Only the emperor had the right to interrogate the princess. The chancellor did do something, however. Something that made the hairs stand up on the back of a lot of necks — he placed Miralda Lertan in a punishment cell. No house arrest, no sending her back to daddy for re-education, no scolding. They had locked her in a cold, solitary confinement cell in the basement of the academy! There was no ceremony whatsoever when dealing with the princess’ bodyguards. Both young lads were dragged off to some unknown location by Zurgan Shor’s soldiers. Soon a brigade of builders appeared and began to patch up the damage in the corridor as if nothing had happened. Security guards were scurrying around everywhere, both in the academy and at the Fortress. Overall, the machine moved smoothly as the whole world worked together to fix one person’s screw-up.

Soon the chancellor left for the palace, demanding that no one release the offender from her cell prior to his return, even if all the armies of this world fell upon the academy at once. The student body was aboil for some time, digesting what had happened, but the teeth-chattering chime of the clock tower sent everyone off to their respective classrooms. War was war, but classes continued on schedule. They sent me off to my studies as well. All I could do was smirk. I’d grown accustomed to the churchmen’s soullessness long ago. Am I alive? Can I lift a finger? Can I think and move? Excellent — then off to class! Dark beasts won’t study themselves! But when I entered the classroom, I had the creeping feeling that we wouldn’t be studying dark beasts today. The entire hall had been cleared of furniture.

“Good morning, students. Today I will be leading this class. The chancellor had an urgent matter to attend to and had to temporarily leave the academy grounds. Line up in two semicircles. Boys on the right, girls on the left. Doomed soldier, you’re coming with me.”

The flabbergasted first-years complied. Judging by their faces, everyone knew the charming young woman who couldn’t be a day over thirty, but didn’t understand why she was the one who had shown up to teach a class on dark beasts. The strikingly pretty — one might even say unbelievably beautiful woman was short in stature and her thick, brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her standard-issue academy jumpsuit hugged her body so tightly that my mouth went dry. A nice round butt, a perky, voluminous chest, waspish waist, delicate arms — the jumpsuit hid nothing. And she carried herself with such confidence, such ease, it was as if she was draped in the most magnificent gown. I was face to face with the feminine ideal. Just the way she pointed her finger to indicate where to stand was enough to make me twitch. Each movement seemed so measured, incredibly smooth and enchanting.

“I haven’t crossed paths with the first years yet, so let me introduce myself. My name is Tarra Lloyd, and I teach dance at the academy. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t meet until next semester, but, in my view, the sooner the better. Alright, students, line up by height and we’ll pair you off. I know that there are fewer girls than boys, so I’m afraid some of you ladies will have to suffer through two partners. Or not suffer, it all depends on your partner’s experience level. Ah, it worked out magnificently — ten girls and twenty boys. Perfect! So this is how we’ll divide up…”

How grateful I was to Gustav and the twins! Words couldn’t even convey my gratitude! First he had taught me combat meditation, and second — how not to get shy in front of gorgeous women. Looking around at my group as they blushed, shied away and sweated at the merest touch from Magister Lloyd, I simply put up my mirror that allowed me to control my emotions in the rift. Whether it worked or not, it’s hard to say — one glance at how the woman moved and my insides were all aflutter. Nonetheless, I managed to maintain my composure where most of my provisional peers did not. Some joked, laughed loudly, pretty much everyone turned beet red, even the girls, but the professor seemed as if she didn’t notice, continuing to arrange the students like chess pieces around the hall. Hoping to somehow distract myself from overindulging in the delectable figure of Tarra Lloyd (I couldn’t even bring myself to call her Magister in my head), I tried to calculate how many students were in the school. Four courses overall with two groups in each. I had no idea how many students were in each group, but if I was to assume that they were around the same size as this one, there were sixty in each course, or two hundred and forty in the entire academy. A miniscule attendance, considering the size of the Zarak number, as well as the number of different families.

“Gentlemen, please enter,” Magister Lloyd said as she strode over to the door to let the musicians in. The troupe set up chairs, dragged in their instruments, and soon struck up a familiar melody.

“Young men standing to the right of their ladies, invite them to dance. Those on the left go stand by the wall. We’ll switch in ten minutes. Ladies, it’s all in your hands. Bask in it. Doomer, you’re working with me.”

“May I, Madam?” She didn’t have to ask me twice. Turning to the magister, I inclined my head slightly and held out my hand, initiating the “duel.” So many strangenesses had occurred since the moment I first became a doomer that I wasn’t even taken aback by the fact that instead of studying dark beasts, we were learning to dance.

Since they were teaching it, it must mean we needed to know it. I didn’t love dancing, but I knew how. A young baron’s education was chock full of a variety of subjects, including such things as dance.

Tarra Lloyd gallantly accepted my invitation with a curtsy, after which she pressed herself tightly against me and my mirror nearly cracked. My heart, in any case, began to beat furiously, threatening to jump clear out of my chest. Her perfume was the exact same one that Serlena Przhedetskaya, the love of my former life, used to wear. The memory flooded my mind and I surrendered to it completely. Two years ago, I had met Serlena for the first time and she had accepted my offer to dance. We only met that once, but the girl had worked her way so deeply into my heart that even the twins couldn’t shake her image from my mind. And now, two years later, in another life, I was dancing once more. In my arms was the enchanting Professor Tarra Lloyd, miles ahead of any other women out there. In my arms was Serlena Przhedetskaya, smiling and perspiring. A fleeting moment of joy remaining from my past life.

The music ended and I stopped, letting go of the magister. Serlena graced me with one last smile and her image evaporated. That part of my past was gone forever.

“That was…unexpected,” Tarra said, and I grinned. Now, having parted with Serlena, I saw only a beautiful woman standing before me. Maybe even a perfect woman, but a flesh-and-blood woman nonetheless. Not some distant, unattainable angel.

“Change partners!” Tarra ordered and the first-years regrouped. The music started up again and ten pairs started spinning around the room. She spent some time assessing the smoothness and quality of each pair’s movements, after which she turned back to me.

“She was someone special to you?”

I nodded, perturbed by the question. Could the magister have, in some unfathomable way, felt everything that I had just experienced?

“You’re the first doomer I’ve ever had in my class, so I’m not exactly sure how to behave around you. But since you’re here, it means you have the right to be here, and you’ll do the work like any other student. The way you expressed your emotions, allowing them to dissolve into movements, your breath, the surroundings ... It’s amazing. This is what I want to achieve from each of my students. You definitely need practice. Your movements are ragged and wrong, but your emotions, passion...perhaps this is due to your status. A doomer who could die at any moment. A doomer who sucks everything from life while he has the opportunity. I don’t know. One thing I can say for sure is that it will be an interesting experience for both of us. Now in position. It’s time to sort out your mistakes…”

These four hours were the happiest I’d spent in the academy. Tarra, with amazing patience for a teacher, explained both to me and the entire class what our mistakes had been, after which we started practicing. Next dance. Serlena didn’t visit me anymore, but I didn’t need her — I was able to immerse myself in my emotions without outside help. The tempo Tarra set turned out to be impossible for many. The first students began to fall off after the first two hours, collapsing against the wall with a groan. For me, it was a labor of love. The thousands of repetitions of the same movements, millions of steps forward, side, back, the endless turns of the head — compared to what the Evil Engineer bullied me with every day, Tarra was a blessing. The last thirty minutes of the lesson turned into a one-on-one session. Only the two of us remained on our feet. When the bell rang, I was surprised to notice that I was soaked through to the skin, while my teacher hadn’t even broken a sweat. I had no doubt that she was another consumer of enhancement elixirs.

“It was a pleasure working with you.” Magister Loyd smiled, taking two steps back. How did she move like that? No master of martial arts could achieve such fluidity! “Attention class! Thank you all for this lesson, I’ll see you next semester. Remember, dance is one of the mandatory exams you must pass, so don’t expect any concessions from my end. The elite of the Zarak Empire study at our academy! And you must prove your worth, not just on the Wall, but also at the ball, constantly being the center of attention. Because this is the true vocation of the elites — to always be at the forefront and to lead those behind them. Thank you, sirs, for your assistance.”

The last she addressed to the musicians. They all began to bow to one another and shake hands. I slowly edged toward the exit — at this celebration of life, I was simply a squeaky wheel. The first years shared their impressions of the lesson, the guys made unambiguous remarks about the teacher’s appearance, and someone even attempted to utter the word “doomer,” but was immediately stifled by his friends. Apparently, the whole academy already knew what had happened that morning.

They were waiting for me at the exit. Four red-robed clerics immediately stuffed me in a box and escorted me in this manner to the dining room. There, I was received by Zurgan Shor’s people, who brought me to the table and then surrounded it from all sides. They didn’t even permit me to stand in line — my food was brought by pallid chefs who had personally tasted each dish. Wow, really? So they were planning to poison me now?

“Until the contract holder cancels the order, the Nocturnal Guild will not back down. It always completes the task it sets out to do.” The fat old man sat down across from me. “And judging by the customer’s disposition, she won’t be canceling anytime soon. She’s relying on her status. Of course, I’m not particularly pleased to have these guys on the territory I’ve been entrusted to protect, but I must admit — in just one morning, you’ve already paid off all the resources invested in you.”

“The Cloak stone you pulled off the body?” I hazarded a guess.

“And not just that. There were a few other interesting abilities, and if the princess hadn’t demanded a demonstrative death, with blood, you certainly wouldn’t have made it out alive. Extremely rare, if not entirely unique stones, is what I’m trying to say. I even began to wonder: is your fate truly just a series of accidents, or has Skron placed a curse on you and you’re now doomed to suffer for the rest of your days? Which are clearly few in number, but no doubt exceedingly intense.”

“Am I expected to respond to that, or was it a rhetorical question?” I pushed my empty plate away. Even the awful old fat man’s company didn’t spoil my appetite.

“You are permitted to carry mana and recovery elixirs on your person.” Magister Shor placed six vials on the table, one by one. Three of each type. “Your partner may not always be nearby.”

“But you didn’t come here just to delight me with the news that you’re loosening my collar.” I held Magister Shor’s gaze. He habitually chewed his lips and agreed:

“Until the esteemed chancellor returns, you will need to travel around the academy in my presence. Finished eating? Then let’s go, I’ll hand you over to Father Nor’s care.”

I even began to wonder — why Zurgan Shor in particular? There were two options: either he hoped that his presence would neutralize any of the particularly violent ones, since there certainly would be hot heads who decided I was the reason their beloved princess had been imprisoned. Or he had some sort of ability that allowed him to identify assassins lurking in the shadows. And, being near to me, Magister Shor would be able to sniff out these killers and end their lives with one fell swoop. Maybe more than one, but you get the picture. Both options were plausible and had the right to exist, both separately and in tandem.

“Thank you for escorting him, Magister.” At the training grounds, I was met with a new brigade. “I’ll be keeping him until late this evening, so no need to rush back. Dark one, follow me. You have work to do.”

The cleric had managed to pique my interest, especially considering that we were so close to the first level of the training grounds. The dark beasts here didn’t scare me, even when out of their cages, so they clearly hadn’t dragged me here for training. For help?...What sort of assistance could a doomer have to offer? Just our one and only purpose: killing a dark beast. There really wasn’t anything else we were good for.

The first cave on the beginner level turned out to be full. There weren’t that many people, just six total, but I noticed the peculiarities right away: none of them were wearing an academy uniform. And the age of the group suggested that I had been brought to a parent gathering for graduates. And one more thing…I turned sharply in the direction of Father Nor, pointing to the cage with the dark one. It had always held a common beast before, but now there was an elite krona sitting inside. One I hadn’t encountered, a beast from the fourth level of the rift.

“The Fortress has carefully studied your development path and decided to reiterate it. Those you see before you are weapon masters. Sword masters, spear masters. Each of them spent more than a decade on the Wall, fighting side-by-side with doomed soldiers. Three had a chance to resist the Wave. They understand combat meditation firsthand.”

“But something’s wrong,” I guessed. “I can even predict exactly what it is, right off the bat: they can’t block the dark beast’s influence. No, I misspoke — they can’t activate their mirror. Why? The answer is clear, but I don’t understand what I’m doing here? You already know why.”

“Because they’ve spent ten years on the Wall,” Father Nor nodded. “The habit of putting up an inner wall to block off their emotions is too deeply embedded in their being to break it so easily. Your task is to explain to them what to do and how. Any methods are permitted, up to and including physical. Right here and now, you have full authority as their commander. We need mirrors, Dark Max. We need answers.”

“Have you considered the fact that the mirror might be an ability only bestowed by dark stones?”

“We consider every factor that might produce results. There are six people here. Three of them have received their abilities through the standard means, while three received stones through fire. Exactly the same as you did. You won’t know who is who until the end.”

“Cool…I can’t refuse, as I understand it?” I glanced up at the cleric, who shook his head. “So they’ve enlisted me as a mentor too…”

“We all have unusual duties we must perform,” Father Nor replied coolly. “I, for example, in lieu of burning this dark one at the stake in a final bid to save his soul, stand next to him and persuade him to work for the good of the Light. Such is life, no matter how we may all wish it were otherwise.”

“Alright guys, break’s over, everyone eyes on me!” I shouted to get everyone’s attention. Having a discussion with Father Nor was, of course, endlessly exciting, but for some reason it always boiled down to the same thing: follow orders or it’s the stake for you. After waiting for all six to stop their stupid murmuring, I took a couple of steps forward, sat down and pointed to the seats in front of me.

“Take a seat and we’ll begin. The sooner we figure out how to solve this problem, the sooner we can go to dinner.”

“Who’s he?” asked some bastard with a scar slashed across his face, turning to Father Nor.

“He’s the one who’s going to help you with your problem. For the moment, he is your commander.”

“This pipsqueak?” another chortled. The masters of the Wall were subordinate to the emperor, not to the High Priest, so there was no question of any subordination. The men knew their own worth and were trying to figure out why in Skron’s name I had been foisted on them.

“And with kid’s toys instead of weapons.” My katars didn’t escape another mercenary’s attention. “Are those toothpicks?”

“In other words, you don’t intend to listen to me or do what I tell you to, is that right?” I chuckled. If he thought he’d have the last word on that, he was sorely mistaken. The churchman had given me a direct task and was awaiting its completion. The fact that nature had deprived me of any natural charms or charisma was my own problem. That just meant I’d have to carry out my orders a different way. And I think I knew what it was. One where I had no possible chance of winning. Then they’d be forced to use it.

“Father Nor, we clearly need a small demonstration. You said these men were all real masters of the Wall? Will you give them weapons? They won’t listen until they test for themselves. I wouldn’t either.”

Father Nor had clearly been counting on something like this — after a few moments, their weapons had all been dragged from the second cave. Three swordsmen, three spearmen. Not bad. Judging by the different lengths and girths of the weapons, they weren’t standard poles from our armory. They were obviously personal weapons to which the masters have become accustomed in the ten years of their patrol.

“You should step aside and cover yourself,” I said to the churchman as I strode to the center of the cave. The weapons masters, without even saying a word, formed a circle around me, surrounding me from all sides. Judging by their malicious smirks, they didn’t consider me a threat at all. In fact, I completely agreed with them — one man with a sword, even the toughest one, couldn’t do anything against three spear masters covered by three sword masters. The idea I had decided to roll with was the peak of idiocy, but this was precisely why there was a chance to succeed. A small chance at victory, but a chance nonetheless.

“Before we begin, does everyone have protection amulets?”

No one bothered to answer me, but I wasn’t counting on it. At least I warned them that they might be needed. The rest was up to them. If someone accidentally got hurt…I’d had too tough a morning to worry about such trifles now.

“Alright, gentlemen, let’s start on the count of three. Your task is to survive. At least thirty seconds. Ready? One! Two! Three!”

Gustav always taught me to never underestimate your opponent. Even if you think he’s weak, act as if you’re fighting against the deadliest enemy in the world. But this was not my problem — I knew I had no chance against any one of them individually, let alone all six. Whatever anyone might say, they were masters, and Gustav, who had taught me, was never a master. But I had one hope for victory: the elite beast from level four of the rift. Along with my charm, of course — where would I be without it?

I went into my mirror state in a matter of moments. I had my improved golden shield raised, a full mana bar, Dark Spike loaded and ready to tear into the enemy, katars in combat mode, and as soon as I shouted “Three!” all spears moved toward me and I went dark. But I wasn’t just any beast — one equal in strength to the creature hiding in the cage. I became an elite krona from the fourth level of the rift.

I knew perfectly well what the consequences of this action would be. Losing consciousness was the easiest way out. However, astoundingly, I managed to stay on my feet, and even see some things through the hazy fog that clouded my vision. It was difficult. Extremely. But the pressure was nowhere close to what I had experienced near the Warden’s cave. Concentrating, I saw my opponents and could not help but grin. These were the Wall masters who had been fighting dark beasts for the past ten years? Were they doing it by written correspondence?

Five of the men fell straight back on their asses and confidently paddled with all four limbs, trying to get as far away from me as possible. Judging by the look of terror in his eyes he clearly had no intention of attacking. One stayed on his feet, but tottered like a willowy tree during a hurricane. If not for the spear, I’m sure this one would have collapsed to the floor too. My ears began to buzz — I was approaching my limit. That thing in the cage was far too strong, so I had to hurry. Biting my lip, I took a few steps forward, slashing a katar across my opponent’s skin to signify a fatal blow. One down. I slashed the cheek of another. Two. I turned around and, with monumental efforts, slashed two more. Then another, and I was left with only one. The same staggering spearman who wouldn’t fall.

Before I blacked out completely, I gave up. This wasn’t one of my training sessions. I just had to prove to the masters that I was worthy of teaching them. Five out of six should be good enough to get their attention. My mirror flew off into the distance and I fell to my knees with a loud sigh. Alright, enough heroism for today. Now for the lengthy discussions about how…What was that strange muttering?

The sixth master who I hadn’t managed to strike down was behaving rather strangely. Not only was he still staggering, even after the dark aura had dissipated, but he was also muttering inarticulately. It caused a wave of rage to well up inside of me and I wanted nothing more than to shut his mouth and stop the mumbling. I had never heard the language of the dark ones, but some sixth sense told me that’s what it was. The words the master was mumbling had meaning. Finally, he raised his hands high, as if ending his speech, and I heard the monstrously calm voice of Father Nor:

“Max, don’t let him finish that spell. That’s not a human. It’s a convert…”

Chapter 3

I ALWAYS THOUGHT the stories about converts were just fairytales spread by the church, solely so that the people would have a common enemy to fear more than they did the fanatics at the Fortress. If you don’t do your training, the converts will come and snatch you. If you don’t eat your porridge, the converts will get you. If you’re a bad boy…I think the general message is clear: fear the dark ones and do as you’re told. Otherwise bad things will happen.

But standing face-to-face with such a creature, I knew that the stories about the converts couldn’t convey even half the horror of the real thing. Father Nor ordered me to stop the spell? No questions asked — over the past week, I’d grown accustomed to carrying out the cleric’s orders with no hesitation. But approaching the creature proved an impossible task. The man, hands still uplifted in holy ecstasy, was surrounded by a magical force field, and my katars weren’t long enough to pierce through. Dark Spike was always a good response to this — not so much to do damage, but to simply change the enemy’s position. The explosion was tremendous. It wasn’t enough to puncture the shield, which was expected, but the dark one was thrown aside. He could barely stand on his feet, so he collapsed like a felled tree, not even thinking to put his hands out to soften the blow. His mumbling continued from the ground and only then did I realize that I was on my own. The masters who supposedly fought such enemies in their line of work were laying on the floor, unmoving. Only two of them made any effort to rise, while the other three were statues. Just like the other churchmen — everyone was wallowing on the floor except for Father Nor. But even he looked grim — his face was covered in large drops of sweat.

“Break the spell,” the cleric’s voice sounded calmly again, for which he paid the price. Blood was streaming from Father Nor’s nose. Grabbing a spear from the ground, I leapt toward the dark one and brought the weapon down with all my might. There was the crack of breaking wood and the shaft of the spear was torn from my hands. The steel tip of the spear passed through the shield without issue, but as soon as the wood hit, it got stuck. The impact was strong enough to break the spear, but not enough to propel the spear tip forward on its deadly path. It reached the dark one, but rather than piercing the body, it fell inertly on his face and rolled onto the rocks. The dark one gave no sign of ceasing his serenade.

Break the spell…

Don’t hesitate. Don’t die. Just stop it…