Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG - Chapter 278

I retreated the equivalent of several rooms down the exit hatch. My previous experience with a shrine of elevation taught me to be wary of them—the last and only time I’d used one, I’d met the Allfather in person. That he happened to be my patron was a lucky break, tipped in my favor by the Adaptive dungeon.

Feelings of disquiet washed over me, as I imagined what may or may not be happening at base camp.

How long has it been?

An hour total. Fifteen minutes of that since I left Julian alone with the shrine.

“Jules? You dead?”

Nearly a full minute until he answered. “Uh. No.”

“You done?”

“Yep.” He sounded strange. Troubled. “But I think the Eldritch gods might not like me too much.”

I returned to the boss room, footsteps echoing on stone, half-expecting to see some corrupt abomination waiting, parroting Julian’s voice.

Beyond the pale face he looked more or less the same. He was holding a slate-gray gunmetal karambit in both hands away from him and observing it with a mix of wonder and dread. It had no discernible aura. When he shifted it back and forth, however, the knife blurred, the way it would look if it was moving at high speeds, even though the movement itself was slight.

“Interesting.” I hedged. “It completely changed form.”

“Watch.” He shifted it back and forth. “Faster it moves, the harder it is to see. Almost like camo, or an active cloak or something. Not that useful for my purposes, but useful.”

“Huh.”

I waited, and when he didn’t seem keen on offering a further explanation, prompted him. “You said something about the Eldritch Gods?”

“Yeah.” Julian stirred, his brows furrowed. “They really don’t like what I did to their vessel. I think.”

“You think?”

“On some level I was hoping to pick up negotiations where we left off, but it wasn’t much of a conversation. They weren’t speaking their own language half the time, a lot of what I did understand was threats, insults, and more talk of conquering and consumption.”

“Well, you trash-canned yet another incursion attempt, so kind of makes sense they’d be sore about it.”

“I think you might have been right, about leaving it alone.”

I glanced at the knife warily. “Is it dangerous?”

“Not the sort of threat you’re thinking. No properties that imply it might start sprouting tentacles.” His eyes widened. “Actually, this might be perfect. You’re nice enough to downplay it but the way I killed the boss shook you up.” Before I could deny it, he shook his head. “I get it, I’ve seen that reaction before. I know the requirements and myself well enough to believe I don’t pose a danger to everyone around me, but with the limitations of what I can explain, you’d be forced to take my word on it.”

“Not sure I’m following.”

“You’re a knife expert, right?”

“I’m okay.”

“Uh huh.” Julian smiled knowingly. “Someone who’s casually slicing tentacles moving at mach speed out of the air isn’t just okay.” He held the blade by the safe side and extended the handle towards me. I took it, curiosity winning over caution.

Description: A weapon stolen from the expansive armory of a fertility deity and reforged in the fires of malice. It loathes armor nearly as much as its original creator, and while capable of changing form, will never lose its edge. According to legend, once coated in blood, it will sing a song of insurrection, deafening and disorienting any who oppose its wielder.

Item Class: Artifact

Item Value: S???

Christ.

“A lot going on there.” I observed.

The author’s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“I’ll say.”

“Even if they were pissed, at least they didn’t give you trash. Although the description making it sound semi-intelligent is a little concerning. If you let it go, you’ll need to test it and make sure there’s no discoverable ‘quirks…’ but assuming there’s not? You could sell this for a lot of selve.”

I might even buy it.

Julian was already shaking his head when I looked up. “Not sure that’s a great idea, unfortunately. Uh. Among the more general insults and inter-dimensional trash talk… I received a very specific warning from the tentacle-monsters-upstairs.”

“Which was?”

“This knife will eventually kill me.”

“The User, or you specifically?”

“Me.” He paused. “Unless it meant ‘feckless orphan’ in a general sense, which is an odd demographic to intentionally target.”

I blinked several times. “Yeah. Maybe don’t sell it.”

He sighed. “Keeping it on my person seems like a bad idea. And as much as I like most of the other members of the court, none of them are really rogue-types.”

And you don’t fully trust them. You can’t. Not without knowing how things are going to shake out. You’re a central foundation of a power structure that has no clue how its hierarchy or succession works.

“Which is why I want you to take it.” He finished.

I did a double-take. “Excuse me?”

Julian shrugged. “You’re good with a knife. I have a good feeling about you in general—which sounds stupid, but trust me when I say good feelings about people are getting harder and harder to come by. You’re smart, cautious, and capable of making hard decisions. It holds intrinsic value to you, which means you’re less likely to sell it. And given the level of power I just demonstrated which also can’t be explained, I figure you’ll be a lot more comfortable with a kill switch.”

You barely know me.

Regardless, his estimation was half-right. But taking it was a bad idea if it was going to make him more paranoid around me.

“And if I said fuck the court, might as well start with Julian?” I tested.

The brittle smile returned. “It would have been easier to just tell me I was infected.”

There it was. I nodded and took the blade. There was just one last thing I needed to quash a distant possibility. Bracing myself, I pulled up my title screen and swapped into As we were out of direct danger, it did what it always did.

Oh no. Wow. Get a load of this guy. Talk about a fish out of water. He doesn’t belong in this era. Doesn’t belong in any era, really. He’s trembling, uncertain, afraid. But not of death. He’s upset because he couldn’t find common ground with the eldritch hive mind freak dead set on the Borg imperative. How offensively stupid can one person be—

I forced myself to filter it out and refocused on the present. “They straight-up told you this knife would eventually kill you?”

“They did.” Julian confirmed.

True. No hesitation or micro-expressions. The strange part is that he believed them. Doesn’t track. Should have seemed like an idle threat, or poor sportsmanship on the part of the deity intended to deny an invaluable reward, but he bought it entirely. The only lie he’s telling is one of omission. There was more to their conversation, either personal or class related. Something he intends to take to his grave.

“And you really trust me to hold on to it?”

“I do.” He grinned. “Sure, maybe we haven’t known each other for very long, and maybe you were just playing for the cheap seats to get a look at the boss, but what you said really struck a chord.”

He doesn’t. But he hopes he can. He knows trust goes both ways, and he’s willing to earn it. It’s only partially political. He likes the way you challenge decisions and take him to task for them. For some unknowable reason he also seems to like your cantankerous attitude. Have to wonder if he’ll ever realize how big of a mistake he’s making giving it to—

Thank you, cruel lens. As much as I disliked the way it said things, it was telling me everything I needed to know. Julian was a bit of a fool, but even ignoring the one-shot, he brought something to the table we desperately needed. A non-merchant ability tailored around negotiation would have been invaluable during the first transposition, and likely would be just as useful in the second if it came to that.

“Okay.” I inventoried the knife for later study and looked up to find Julian swaying on his feet. “Uh…”

“Feeling a little… woozy… all of a sudden.” He squinted at me, eyes losing focus. Then fainted. Somehow I caught his head before it hit the ground.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

/////

“Why do I have to carry him?” Talia grumbled, padding down the long exit hall.

“Can’t carry him while he’s wearing plate. Azure is generally around as strong as me physically, so he can’t carry him. Audrey could, but I don’t think either party would enjoy that process. This was clearly a job for a magnificent, mighty she-wolf.”

She preened at the flattery until she caught me looking. “The chamber was sealed and secure. Could have just left him.”

“Almost did.” I inclined my head, glancing over the prince’s slack form draped over my summon. “But I want a healer to take a look at him sooner rather than later.”

Occam’s razor said it was a combination of blood loss and exhaustion. As a general rule, healing potions and spells could repair most physical damage, given enough time. They amplified regeneration of blood but didn’t replace it immediately, meaning the body still had to do its part. The proximity of the fainting spell to his encounter with the shrine god, however, set my teeth on edge. was still showing normal, human vitals, but it was possible something more subtle had been done to him, and I wasn’t willing to roll the dice on that.

Talia’s ears perked up and she stopped, straining to listen. Seconds later an angry voice carried down the hallway. “Trouble at camp.”

Now that I was listening, I heard more voices, many more, all forming a low indecipherable din of anger and fear. I started running.

And as the hidden exit unsealed, I found myself in the center of an absolute shit-show.