Spear of Destiny by James Baldwin (room on the broom read aloud txt) 📗

the surcharge. I have sensitive hands,” I continued. “Either way, you gotta provide the lotion and take me to dinner at least once. No McDonalds shit, either. Whataburger, at least.”

“You really think you’re funny.” He grimaced to one side. “I know where she is, you know. The Queen. The Admin Panel shows her co-ordinates and everything else about her.”

He’s lying. An inner voice—hard, dark, quiet—whispered from deep inside me. He doesn’t know her name. He didn’t know she could teleport.

“Yeah, okay. It’s not like there was a global system message announcing that I was the new Voivode of Myszno or anything.” I was still partly thinking about burgers, which weirdly helped with the fear churning deep in my chest. “Not to mention, I’ve got it on good authority you don’t have access to the Admin Panel.”

Ororgael’s eyes darted from side to side, as if looking at something. “Mmm... let’s see here. Dragozin Hector, Level 25 ‘Dark Dragoon’, whatever that is... 4231 EXP to next level, only 69 Strength?”

An icy chill seized my guts like a cold hand.

“The hell is this identifier? TypeNew...?” The big man’s brow furrowed. “Your Seed Code is corrupted. I guess that answers some questions I had.”

Somehow, this motherfucker could see my character stats. He could see my fucking sheet. I swallowed down the fear—for Karalti’s sake. I wasn’t sure where she was, but I knew she was smart enough to go somewhere she wouldn’t be found. “Wow, super. I guess you know everything. Maybe you should ask your magic eight-ball how I kicked your ass in Cham Garai, then Taltos, then Myszno.”

“Easy.” Ororgael drew his sword. The weapon he pulled from the sheath was not a steel blade: it was made of glass, and as soon as it was free, the blade burst into incandescent white flames with a shock of power that nearly forced me back a step. “The Drachan are my biggest priority. You progressed because I let you.”

The energy from the sword felt like it was singeing my eyebrows from ten feet away. I shifted into a low, wide stance, the Spear of Nine Spheres held at a low angle. “That’s one of the Top Ten Things a Loser with No Admin Panel would say.”

He let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Park, it’s over. You found the Warsinger, I found you, and now we can make progress against the Drachan. I can either take what I want from this machine, or you can hand it over. But don’t think you can fight me and win.”

“That’s your first mistake: assuming I think.” I crooked a couple of fingers at him. “Bring it.”

“Have it your way.” Baldr lunged at me almost faster than I could follow.

I desperately parried the blazing flurry of blows, startled to find that I could actually keep up. Every blow was powerful enough that, block or no block, I took about ten damage with each hit. Breathlessly, I dove out of the way of his next slash and ducked as he teleported above me and flew down. I saw the hit coming, and blew apart into a cloud of shadows just as the blade struck the spot where I’d been standing. The glass sword missed me, but cleaved a new blazing scar into Withering Rose’s armor. When I whirled back around to face him, Baldr looked as surprised as I felt. Neither of us had expected me to last long enough to trade blows.

I laughed, a harsh whiskey bark. “Okay, Baldo. Tell me one thing: if you’ve got access to the Admin Panel, why don’t you just fucking delete me and these Drachan mobs and be done with it?”

“To my great regret, you can’t delete people from inside the sandbox anymore,” he rumbled, lips twitching back in a sneer. “Your brother ensured that.”

I threw my arms open. “Then spawn one of those player-killer swords and gack me!”

“Those won’t kill you, because you’re not a player.” Ororgael’s voice seemed to blur for a moment, as if two people were speaking at the same time. “You’re a virus, and the code in those swords is older than you are.”

“I’m a virus?” I fell back into stance. “My dude, you’ve got a serious case of projection going on.”

Baldr closed in again, stone-faced. I was faster, driving the blade of the spear at his exposed face, then switching to thrust it toward his armpit. The weapon clashed off the flaming crystal blade with an impact that made my fingers vibrate. I spun the spear around, bringing the heavy butt up like a mace. The blow crashed into his jaw, nearly knocking the fancy eagle helmet off his head. He staggered back a step, eyes wide with disbelief.

I gave chase. The spear whirled in my hands, a blur of bluesteel and black fire as I activated Blood Sprint and rushed him with a series of blows too fast for the eye to follow. He blocked the first four strikes flawlessly, but slipped up on the fifth. The point broke through his guard, screeched along his breastplate, then pierced the chain protecting his underarms. I followed through, ripping the links and the flesh beneath. Blood spattered, and he gasped in pain: just before his face turned red and he made a sharp gesture with his other hand.

Something invisible struck me from the side, sending me tumbling and skidding over the Warsinger’s back. I tucked my head and shoulder in and rolled out of it, barely leaping away from the swipes of Ororgael’s sword. I teleported behind him, but he was ready for me, bringing his weapon around in a slash that forced me off balance. I carried the wobble into a controlled jump, but as I soared through the air, his eyes and mouth flew open and a boiling bolt of raw force exploded from his face in a roaring inferno of light. My eyes