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

widened, but even with the time dilation I gained from Leap of Faith, there was no escaping the blast. It blew my helmet off, peeling me with heat so intense I felt like my body was melting. I threw my hands up, watching in horror as the leather stripped away and my own bones flashed into view through my palms.

[You take 1100...]

[...]

[... You are immune...]

[HP: 578/1678]

I crashed onto Withering Rose’s back like a falling star, crying out as my bare skin sizzled on the searing hot metal surface. The blast had destroyed my armor, instantly rusting the metal and turning the leather into a sticky, tarry goo that reeked like a week-old corpse. I felt like I was burning up from the inside and the outside at the same time. Worse, I was blind: there was nothing but dazzling light in all directions. I spammed three health-restoring potions and called the Spear to my hand anyway, prepared to fight to the end.

Ororgael didn’t crow his victory. There was only the heavy thump of his boots on metal as he strode toward me. I felt something cut through the air above my head and reflexively threw up the haft in a two-handed block. The bluesteel shuddered and bowed under the pressure of the blazing pillar of molten glass, roaring inches from my face.

“You are a virus. A mistake, ‘Park’. I know this game better than anyone, and your Character Seed should not exist in this system. That means you were created. But by whom?” Ororgael’s voice had a hollow ring to it now, like it was coming from far away. “Well, I know that too. You’re another face of the sickness plaguing OUROS like a cancer. In fact, you ARE that sickness. A personification of it.”

“What... uhhn... the fuck... are you ranting about?” My vision cleared enough that I could see him as he leaned his blazing sword into the spitting, crackling haft of the Spear of Nine Spheres.

“I’m telling you that your filth is corrupting my AI.” There was a mad, feral energy written into the lines of his face. “This sword can’t kill you, yet. But soon, it will. And I can assure you, Park, that as soon as I can kill you, I will. Archemi is the only world we have left, and I will not let you infect it.”

“Dude, you’re so nuts that I could use your shit to bait squirrels.” The Mark of Matir throbbed with cold fire on the back of my right hand—and as I noticed it, I felt a sudden surge of intuition. I rolled away just as Baldr plunged his sword down. He whiffed, thrusting the super-hot blade into the metal surface of Withering Rose. The aurum turned the weapon in a shower of sparks, and the very edge of it brushed against the bare skin of my arm with hardly enough force to cut paper—but the limb exploded with blood and pain. The Spear flew from my ruined hand, clattering and spinning over the surface of the Warsinger.

[Glancing blow. You take 998 reduced damage.]

[HP: 30/1678.]

“Just let it go, Park. By the time you respawn in your broken shell of a castle, I’ll have everything I need out of Withering Rose to enact the next stage of our evolution. Our defense against squalor.” Ororgael grinned mirthlessly overhead, and time seemed to slow as he brought the sword back around. “You’ve been running a treadmill while I’m headed to the finish line. Just relax. There’s nothing you can do to stop what’s coming.”

“The fuck there isn’t.” I jammed my one working hand deep into the gash I’d left in his armor. My fingernails ejected into long needles, piercing padding and then flesh. And then I activated Shadow Lance.

Despite its name, Shadow Lance worked with any weapon. Ice coiled through my flesh and thrust into Baldr’s body like a three-foot spike of darkness. It burst out through the other side of his abdomen, sending splinters of flash-frozen steel flying.

[You deal a mortal blow. x2 damage.]

[You deal 7527 Darkness damage.]

Ororgael’s mouth opened in a soundless cry before he sagged onto my fist. His eyes lost focus as he slumped, pinning me to the burning metal. I snarled in pain as my back burned, writhing, trying to escape from underneath the huge man’s bulk. But as I struggled, a weird, skin-prickling power flashed over my skin. He reached down and squeezed my wrist in a crushing grip, trapping it inside the grisly wound I’d made.

“You know, maybe there’s a way to cure you, now that I think about it.” A shimmering, metallic black liquid oozed out of his pores, beading on his skin. It flowed up over his hand, then down along his arm. Wherever it touched, the flesh and skin turned numb. “Do you see this? It’s the visual manifestation of an anti-viral program, one designed to cure anomalies like you. I can give you a fresh start, Park. So don’t worry about your friends, or the queen. Once I rid the world of squalor and bring order back into the system, they’ll be grateful.”

Cures? Squalor? What the fuck was he talking about? Panic flashed through me as I realized I was paralyzed: the liquid had reached my neck and was sliding up under my jaw, heading for my mouth and eyes. I frantically scanned my Inventory for some way to escape—and found one.

I switched the five vials of Bluecrystal Mana vials I’d looted from Jacob Ratzinger into my Quickbar and spammed the lot.

[Warning: Catastrophic mana poisoning.]

[You take 99999 9  9-]

An awful, bitter chemical taste flooded my mouth and nose. Then the world detonated like a nuclear blast, an explosion I heard only for an instant as blinding light swallowed me and Ororgael and blew us both to Hell.

Chapter 2

[SEED#: NUMBERFETCH 00-001A-TypeNew[HeraldOfMT]_PARAGON: Hector Park.]

[... ]

[Hector Park]: Thank