Atlas Rising a LitRPG gaming adventure by Blake Severson (top 10 books of all time .txt) 📗

a pathetic excuse for a druid. Out here meditating when you should be fighting and getting stronger. No wonder you take so long to kill stuff.”

The voice sounded both odd and familiar at the same time. He felt like he knew the person who spoke but couldn’t remember from where. When his eyes cracked open and glimpsed the figure, they immediately burst open the rest of the way. He stared at a mirror image of himself, yet it was his body from the actual world and not the one in the game.

“How?”

“I can’t be this dense. Video game remember?”

Atlas felt foolish for a moment before his focus returned to his copycat and he stood from the ground, “Why are you here then?”

“Your test, of course. This is about facing yourself, in this case, quite literally.”

A dagger appeared in his reflection’s hand as a sadistic grin adorned his face.

“Time to see what you can really do,” the copy said as he dove toward Atlas.

No combat image appeared to show him his movements. The blade continued directly for his chest and, at the last minute, he twisted to the side, causing the blade to skid off a rib and pain to flare through his chest.

Hopping backward, he clutched at the spot on his chest. Red blood seeped through his fingers and into his leather armor. He dragged his hand back and examined the wound. A gash bled in a slow, continuous trickle. The bright red fluid covered his hands and the rivulets of blood flowed down his hand and slid down his wrist as he watched.

This isn’t right. The wounds don’t normally bleed this much. I also didn’t see any of the combat motions.

Before his mind could process that any farther, a glimmer of light reflected from his copy’s blade and flashed across his eye. Out of sheer instinct, he dove to his right. He rolled back to his feet and turned to see a blade stabbed into the space he just vacated. Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet and held his staff out in front of him.

“Fine, if I have to do this without the combat images, then so be it.”

The copycat dove for him again, but Atlas noticed he’d done the exact same motion as the first time. Believing he’d seen a key to the fight, he stepped to the side and swung hard with the lower end of the staff. The wood rose and thumped against the meaty section of the duplicate’s arm. It yelped in pain and dropped the dagger. Atlas stepped in and swung the staff in the other direction to catch him in the temple. The impact knocked the opponent down in a crumpled mess.

“That won’t work again,” Atlas said, confidence returning.

This is a video game, after all. He must have a specific set of abilities he can use.

The simulacrum of himself looked at him with that eerie smile again before returning to his feet.

“Fine, druid,” he said with a sneer, “try this!”

Almost too fast to see, the figure’s hand reached behind his back and flung a small knife at Atlas. The speed of the flight startled him, but he turned at the last minute and a shallow cut along his bicep was the only damage.

“That all you got?” Atlas started before his eyes blurred and he swayed on his feet. He blinked in rapid succession before he steadied himself again and his vision returned to normal. An inspection of the wound caused Atlas’ brow to furrow in concern. The cut just happened, but the skin was bright red and swollen already. Poison!

“Tick tock,” the image of himself said as he pointed at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “now what will you do?”

“I’m grow tired of this nonsense,” Atlas yelled, “time for you to die once and for all.”

Atlas leaped forward and brought the staff around in a two-handed swing. His copy ducked below the weapon and rolled to the side. He tried to stop the motion of the staff and bring it back toward his target, but the wave of dizziness hit him again and he stumbled to the side. His grip on the staff involuntarily loosened, and he struggled to keep from dropping it.

Damn. If I can’t keep my balance, I won’t be able to win. My strength is fading faster than I hoped.

Leaning on his staff, he squinted through blurry eyes at his copy and saw nothing but a foot heading for him. The kick hit him directly in his chest and he stumbled backward. I need to recover health or I’m done for. He tried to pull up his stats to see his HP and Mana, but nothing showed and the damage notifications weren’t working. Surely my magic works, right?

With a thought, he triggered Nurture. As with before, the images didn’t show up, but he felt the power course through his body. He’d only cast this spell a few times since learning it, but he’d gotten the general pattern down. Instead of relying on the images, he mimicked the motions himself. The power built along his arms as he completed the gestures and the spell finished with his hands sliding across each other from side to side. The ball of green energy formed by the spell leaped into the air and then showered him in a cascade of green sparks. Strength returned to his muscles and his balance steadied. The blur faded from his vision and he looked toward the copy of himself.

“Round two,” Atlas said with a wry grin of his own, “Fight!”

Atlas ran forward as the copy scrambled around the ground, trying to grab a hold of the knife Atlas knocked free earlier. His hand finally found purchase as Atlas closed in and the copy’s blade swept in a wide arc toward him. He merely grinned and planted the butt of his staff into the ground in front of the copy and vaulted over his head. Since the fake him was still low to the ground, he