Limitless, John Gold [best novels of all time .TXT] 📗

Nobody has seen or heard of them. It’s been thirty hours since I logged into the game, and I’ve been through a good hundred streets populated solely by humans, but I still can’t find the people I care about.

Finally, I get to Angry Milkmaid Street. Just like all the others, it features benches with old ladies sitting on them.

“Excuse me, have you seen a couple here called Arman and Camelia? They’ll have had a one-year-old girl named Rosie with them.”

The old ladies look at each other and whisper before finally telling me something I’ve heard lots of times before.

“We don’t know anybody here by those names. Go head over to the end of the street—they may know something there.”

And so, I do just that. But as I’m going along, glad to find even that little piece of information, somebody yells from behind me. I feel my sleeve being tugged, and I turn around to see a ten-year-old boy pulling at my left arm.

“Grandma asked me to tell you that Arman and Camelia aren’t here anymore. They left a long time ago! I remember them, too. Arman was always walking around asking something, and Camelia would watch Rosie play with the other kids.”

“Where did they go? Did they move to another street?”

“No, Mr. Arman took them to the next trial. I remember better than grandma—she’s old and she always forgets things.”

“Wait a minute, let me make something for you.”

Kid, you have no idea how much what you just said means to me. They’re alive and well, and my little sister was lucky enough to get through with them. My father hasn’t lost his will to live, either, and he’s taking them through the trials. Is there anything more one can ask for? Just hearing that makes the year I lost to work and struggle in the House of Rage worth it.

“Here, my friend. That’s baked ham in a sweet-and-sour sauce with an ambu-root side. Eat it, you’ll get another 50 strength to help you get through the trials.”

I lost 20 levels, but I don’t regret it in the least. If my parents kept going, my job is to follow them.

Where the city ends, the next trial begins. There are hundreds of people standing by the shroud. Still yearning to live, they’re diving into the shroud one after another, while there’s an empty spot that looks almost like a line that people are too afraid to cross. A minute later, I realize why they’re leaving it alone—it’s the point where people come back to after dying in the trial. That rule doesn’t apply to me, and all my efforts to set a respawn point are fruitless.

I do, however, come across an old friend and his teacher. The archmage is helping an unprepossessing old man get up. It’s impossible to forget the powerful, terrible, and revolting aura, and it’s coming from where they just appeared on the respawn strip fifty meters from me.

“Hi there, Tiberius.” I’m already safe behind a magic shield capable of withstanding any attack. Ten streams of consciousness replenish it every second. “Or should I call you the archmage?”

My opponent hasn’t lost his strength, though the old man seems awfully weak for a god. He doesn’t give me that tingling feeling in my body, either.

Human, Veresal, Level 3491

 

He quickly realizes who I am, and he pulls up a shield as he hides behind the archmage. I’m surprised he doesn’t have anything to indicate his divine status, although technically, he isn’t a god anymore.

“What do you need, murderer? And how did you even get here? Wanderers aren’t permitted in the land of the dead.”

“One of the divine brotherhood killed my whole family near Airis Castle. I came to look for them.”

The archmage hurriedly buffs himself, and I pull out my shield. The blade of my bone sword slides easily out of my palm.

“And what do you want from us?”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill Veresal. I have enough rage in my soul for ten gods, and I’m going to work on killing them all until I get back what I lost.”

The archmage smiles, and the patron god relaxes.

“Well, that’s pointless. We can’t die here.”

Hm, that’s true.

“You probably haven’t heard the latest from the outside world. I can send the souls of my enemies to Hell when I want to now—Bernard gave me quite a bit of interesting information about the ritual.”

I’m bluffing, and I can’t send their souls to Hell, but they don’t know that. After pushing the archmage and the old man behind him for a few minutes, I get something worth more than life itself. Sagie, I’m not going to write what they gave me. Let me just tell you that I let them go in peace. Who knows who else might be reading this?

We part ways, none of us letting the others out of our sight until the familiar gray haze separates us. I step into the shroud with a quiver of anticipation.

Current location: House of Disgust.

 

The semidarkness around me is dimly illuminated by smoky torches on the walls. The floor is made out of…flesh! Thousands of arms and legs went into it, while the walls are hung with the heads of corpses. I remember almost all of them. There are lots that I killed during rituals, the bodies from the Stygian swamps, the pirates who attacked our ship, and thousands of monsters who have found their way onto my altars. The location is well-named.

After six hours spent wandering the labyrinth made out of living flesh, I’m able to sense a gleam of disgust. I don’t come across many opponents, though they’re awfully hard to make out in the darkened maze. Black robes blend into the shadows, their ability to move with absolute silence making it even harder to spot them, and all I can think about is how much killing I’ve done over the years. Thousands, hundreds of thousands have been sacrificed to build my strength.

On the second day, I find my way out