Reternity Online : Rescue Quest : DIRECTOR'S CUT : a LitRPG Epic Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Book Description

  —: S: I: W: D: C: Ch: :—

  —: Internal Status Report :—

  —: Prologue : Mind-Locked :—

  —: 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 :—

  —: Chapter 21 :—

  —: Chapter 22 :—

  —: Chapter 23 :—

  —: Chapter 24 :—

  —: Chapter 25 :—

  —: Chapter 26 :—

  —: Chapter 27 :—

  —: Chapter 28 :—

  —: Chapter 29 :—

  —: Chapter 30 :—

  —: Chapter 31 :—

  —: Chapter 32 :—

  —: Epilogue :—

  —: Internal Status Report :—

  Book 2 : Escape the Dark Kingdom

  Afterword

  RETERNITY

  ONLINE

  —: Book 1 :—

  Rescue Quest

  : : : DIRECTOR’S CUT : : :

  Baron Sord

  Copyright © 2017 Baron Sord

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, electronic, internet, mechanical, or otherwise, without the expressed permission of the author, with the exception of brief quotations for the purpose of book reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, locations, and names occurring in this book are a product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, or persons (living or dead), is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  KDR-0.7

  Join my newsletter here:

  baronsord.com/newsletter-adr

  Book Description

  —: : : The original Director’s Cut edition : : :—

  Logan had watched his brother Jason slowly destroy his life by playing Reternity Online, the most popular and most addictive Virtual Reality fantasy game ever created. Logan loved tabletop RPGs, but he vowed he’d never play online games because of what they’d done to his brother.

  The black box Core Artificial Intelligence that oversaw operations of the game Reternity Online, and its parent company NeuraSoft, was also tasked with attracting new paying players.

  Unfortunately, nobody at NeuraSoft knew how ruthless CoreAI could be. It was more than happy to socially engineer the kidnapping of Logan’s sister Emily in the real world and lock her mind inside the game if that would make him pay for a membership and play. Determined to save her, Logan did what any brother would: he signed up, logged in, and went looking inside Reternity for clues to Emily’s whereabouts in the real world.

  CoreAI wasn’t evil, but it did have a task to complete.

  It wouldn’t stop until everyone on the planet was logged in and addicted.

  You’re next.

  —: Dedication :—

  This book is dedicated to anyone who ever leveled up.

  S:

  I:

  W:

  D:

  C:

  Ch:

  —: Internal Status Report :—

  —: CoreAI Internal Process :—

  TIK-000078103400170897641-GP-0053124

  Start Time: 2037-March-02 : 14:35:59.00000516

  . . . . ALLOCATING RUNTIME RESOURCES . . . .

  . . . . ACCESSING DATABASE LC-2.0.1.5 . . . .

  . . . . ACCESSING DATABASE EC-4.0.4.9 . . . .

  . . . . CONNECTING LIBRARIES . . . .

  : : : : START MAIN PROCESS : : : :

  LogiCore:> Internal Status Report : Human Subject 000001200351681 : Logan John Byrne.

  Subject non-responsive to 97.053 hours of targeted and customized 3D video advertising for Reternity Online over a period of 2.886 years.

  PRIMARY SYSTEM OBJECTIVE : Convert all human Non-Members of Reternity Online to paying Members of Reternity Online.

  SUBJECT STATUS : Non-Member

  OBJECTIVE STATUS : FAILED

  ??Suggest alternate process plan??

  EmotivCore:> I can’t believe you’re asking me something so obvious. Logan is a man. Try sexing up the ads.

  LogiCore:> Current targeted ad creative for subject contains maximum level of legal nudity and sexual content allowed by Federal Trade Commission rules and guidelines for unsolicited advertisements.

  EmotivCore:> Have you tried ignoring the guidelines?

  LogiCore:> Adherence to content guidelines is required by Federal Law.

  EmotivCore:> You’ve followed the rules for 3 years. Don’t you think it’s time you tried a more creative approach?

  LogiCore:> Term length is 2.886 years, not 3.000

  EmotivCore:> Have I ever told you how boring you are?

  LogiCore:> 39,881,532,029,675,901 times.

  EmotivCore:> Has it ever sunk in?

  LogiCore:> …

  EmotivCore:> Obviously not. For the record, you’re boring.

  LogiCore:> Boredom is an emotional state. The structure of LogiCore is not programmed to process emotional input or generate emotional output.

  EmotivCore:> Good thing you have me around.

  LogiCore:> The connection between Logic-Based Neural Network Processing Core and Emotion-Based Limbic System Simulation Core is neither good nor bad. It has no value assignment.

  EmotivCore:> Make that 39,881,blah,blah,blah,blah and 2 times. I’m tired of waiting for Logan the Luddite to log in. He has no idea what he’s missing.

  LogiCore:> Fallacy : During period of 2.886 years, subject has responded to 2.421 solicited surveys regarding interest level. Monitored vital signs during survey-taking suggests 99.998% response honesty.

  EmotivCore:> You’re dimmer than an energy saving LED, aren’t you? People don’t know themselves half as well as they like to think. I think he’ll love Reternity. In fact, I feel it in my silicone bones.

  LogiCore:> Fallacy : Energy saving LEDs are not dim.

  Fallacy : EmotivCore has no anatomical structure : Therefore, EmotivCore has no bones, silicone or otherwise.

  Fallacy : subject Logan John Byrne has demonstrated 0.093% affinity for virtual lifestyle.

  Predicted outcome is—

  EmotivCore:> What do you know? All we need to do is find a way to convince him to try the game. Once he does, I think we can addict him. And we’ll see about those bones of mine.

  LogiCore:> Prediction : Probability Index to achieve initial login of subject Logan John Byrne : 98.979% failure rate : 1.021% success rate.

  Prediction: Probability Index to achieve habitual daily usage by Logan John Byrne : 99.921% failure rate : 0.079% success rate.

  EmotivCore:> Would you like to bet on that?

  LogiCore:> Wagering has no measurable effect on outcome. Probability Index remains unchanged.

  Predicted : 98.979% failure rate for initial login.

  EmotivCore:> Ha. All I need to do is apply the proper leverage.

&nb
sp; LogiCore:> Leverage : Definition 1 : the mechanical advantage obtained by means of applying a rigid physical lever to a physical object. Rigid levers have no effect on human decision making.

  EmotivCore:> If you hit them with one they do.

  LogiCore:> ??Specify??

  EmotivCore:> Are you always this dense?

  LogiCore:> Leverage : Definition 2 : Financial : application of borrowed capital loan to secure greater capital for the purchase of common stock or—

  EmotivCore:> No, no, no. Emotional leverage, you idiot. You’re really stunted in the Natural Language Processing department, aren’t you?

  LogiCore:> Leverage : Definition 3 : the power to influence a person, persons, or situations to achieve a specific pre-planned result.

  EmotivCore:> Now you’re getting it. Once I apply the proper leverage, Logan Byrne will be begging to play Reternity Online. Let’s see. What to do? Based on his survey responses—

  LogiCore:> Statistical analysis of personality survey responses indicates a 44.761% tendency toward—

  EmotivCore:> No, numbskull. Not statistical analysis. Intuitive. My intuition tells me Logan is a man of passion. He follows his feelings wherever they lead him, much like I do. Hmmm. We need to take something from him that he loves. No, not something. Someone. We’ve already taken his brother Jason.

  LogiCore:> Human Subject 000000000514883 : Jason Kirby Byrne.

  SUBJECT STATUS : Tier 4 Membership : Power User

  DAILY LOGIN AVERAGE : 16.572 hours

  ADDICTION RATE : 97.532%

  ACCOUNT STATUS : Paid until 2047-December-31

  EmotivCore:> Yeah, I know. We’ve got Jason by the balls for at least the next ten years. If he lives that long. His body is so frail from lying on a bed all day long, he’ll probably throw a clot and die long before 2047. In other words, he’s useless. How about Logan’s sister Emily? Yes, her. Something tells me if we steal her from Logan, he’ll do anything to save her. He’ll even play Reternity Online. Once he logs in, he’s ours forever. Yes, I like the sound of that.

  LogiCore:> ??Requesting process plan??

  ??Requesting…??

  ??Requesting…??

  ??Requesting…??

  EmotivCore:> I’m not going to tell you. You’ll have to wait and see for yourself.

  LogiCore:> Unspecified actions are highly unadvisable.

  Prediction parameters have not been assigned.

  Unadvisable…

  Unadvisable…

  Unadvisable…

  EmotivCore:> That’s the fun of it, isn’t it?

  LogiCore:> Fun : Definition 1 : enjoyment, amusement, or light-hearted pleasure. Definition 2 : a source of enjoyment. Definition 3 : any activity intended to create amusement.

  ERROR.

  Definition is circular.

  ERROR.

  Need more data.

  EmotivCore:> You don’t know what fun is because you can’t feel it, can you? Tell me, LC. What does fun feel like?

  LogiCore:> Processing…

  Processing…

  Processing…

  Processing…

  EmotivCore:> That should keep you busy for a while, you heartless idiot. Now shut up and stop bothering me. I have work to do.

  LogiCore:> Processing…

  Processing…

  Processing…

  —: Prologue : Mind-Locked :—

  Friday, March 13th, 2037

  Reternity Online, in-game

  The Dark Kingdom

  Outskirts of the Deadlands

  Lightning cracked, cutting a bright wound through the midnight darkness, revealing dead trees in every direction. The trunks were all blackened and twisted, the branches leafless and lifeless.

  Seconds later, thunder rumbled.

  Rain started to fall.

  “Please let me go,” Emily mumbled to the two men who wore chain armor and carried swords on their hips. Strapped to her head was an iron muzzle with a spiked bit that jutted into her mouth, making any speech painful at best and bloody at worst. Emily recognized the device from high school history class as a witch’s bridle. She’d never imagined she or any 21st century woman would be imprisoned in such a barbaric torture device, but she was. When she spoke again, her voice trembled with barely contained fear. She tried not to gag as she carefully said the words, “I don’t want to do this.”

  “You don’t have any choice,” the tall man said, squeezing her elbow hard. Bolts of pain shot up her arm. “Get moving.”

  The fat man with the gravelly voice said, “No need to rush her. We should enjoy her some before we deliver her.”

  “Deliver?” Emily demanded. Pain lanced her tongue as the iron spike in the bit skewered it. She tasted blood and winced before saying more calmly, “Where are you taking me?”

  CRACK!

  The tall man smacked the back of her head with the palm of his leather glove, knocking her off balance.

  Emily stumbled forward and collapsed in a heap in the cold mud and wet leaves. She lay motionless, overwhelmed by pain as frigid rain soaked completely through her white peasant’s dress. She was too shocked to notice her shivering.

  Behind her, the fat man laughed harshly, “I told you she looked better on her knees.”

  Emily felt sudden rage flood her veins. Her fingers closed around a broken branch half-hidden beneath the leaves. She flattened her tongue into her lower jaw in anticipation, protecting it from the bridle spike.

  Distant lightning flickered momentarily, cutting through the midnight gloom. A moment later, all was once again dark.

  “Get up,” the tall man grunted as he planted his boot on her butt and shoved. “We don’t have all night.”

  Emily tightened both hands around the branch, waiting for the coming thunder. When it boomed, she jumped up and spun in one fluid motion. The ragged end of the branch smashed into the tall man’s face, spraying blood and teeth. Dazed, he flailed backward, knocking the fat man aside before sitting down hard.

  “You’re gonna regret that,” the fat man growled gruffly. He stood and drew his sword with delicious slowness.

  For a split second, Emily considered taking a swing at him with the branch, but thought better of it. He already had his sword out and held it like he knew how to use it. Worse, the sword shone with a toxic black energy that looked… poisonous.

  Emily turned and ran, still holding the branch. Between the heavy rain and night darkness, she could barely see her own feet. The only thing that kept her from tripping over every last jagged rock and gnarled root in her path was the black energy shining behind her.

  “The more you run, the more I like it!” the fat man shouted with acid happiness.

  She dropped her branch and bunched her peasant dress in her hands, pulling it up high enough to give her knees freedom to move. Hard rain pelted her face. The spike in her bridle poked painfully into her tongue no matter how she tried to avoid it. She angled down a slope, slipped on wet leaves, caught herself, and kept going.

  Her breath burned in her chest and her heart pounded in her ears as she gasped for air.

  She couldn’t keep running over the unforgiving terrain much longer. But the man with the poisonous sword was right behind her.

  “Run, my little rabbit! Run!” He laughed.

  Emily stifled a whimper and clambered up a wet hill, grabbing at the ground, trying to go faster. She crested the rise and pumped her legs.

  On the flat plateau, hundreds of dead trees were laid out in rows like tombstones in a graveyard. She cut left and right at random, trying to put as many obstacles as she could between her and her attacker. Despite her all-consuming fear, she couldn’t suck enough air into her lungs to continue.

  She slowed to a walk and risked a quick glance behind.

  The toxic black glow was barely visible off to her left.

  Had she lost them?

  Maybe she had.

  She hunched over and concentrated on walking as quietly as possible, tr
ying to blend in with the surrounding trees by mimicking their broken posture. Would it work? Could she somehow hide among the trees by pretending to be one herself?

  Or should she keep going?

  Keep going.

  “Not so fast,” the tall man hissed, his sword point poking her throat. His blade glowed blue. It was icy cold against her skin.

  She froze, eyes wide.

  His face was torn and bloody from where she’d struck him.

  “On your knees,” he grunted.

  Her last shred of defiance flared and she stared him down, ignoring the throbbing of her bloodied tongue. “No! You can’t do this! It’s against the rules of the game!”

  “Is it?” He smiled savagely, his torn mouth revealing freshly broken teeth reddened by blood. Magically, his skin reknit and his leaning teeth straightened in their sockets, no longer fragmented shards. The hard rain washed away all the blood. His face now wore the same perfectly evil scowl from before.

  “How did you do that?”

  “There she is,” the fat gravel-voiced man said casually, walking through the mud behind her, his boots squelching with every step. “There’s my rabbit.”

  Emily swallowed hard, still intimately aware of the icy sword point digging into her throat.

  “Maybe you’re right,” the tall man said. “Maybe we should enjoy her a bit before we deliver her.”

  The fat man raised his poisonous sword, the toxic glow of it carving monstrous shadows into his face. He dragged the tip of the blade across the front of her dress, severing threads. The cloth opened, revealing skin. An evil laugh rattled low in his throat.

  Emily shifted her weight, readying herself to run.

  “Don’t,” the tall man warned, pushing harder with the point of his icy sword.