Battleforged: Book 1 - THE BILLION CREDIT HEIST - An Earth Apocalypse LitRPG Adventure

Eric shuddered, a part of him terrified of losing all memory of the miraculous wonders he had experienced, no matter the striking transformations and advancements displayed in his character sheet. It was then that he noted the complimentary pencils and stationary upon one of the many perfectly placed and ergonomically designed hardwood tables in the study adjoining his luxurious bedroom in what he now realized was one of the five million credit floor-sized suites among the top floors of the Blue Palace he had been savvy enough to invest in, what now felt like a lifetime ago.

He swallowed his suddenly dry throat, his naked feet hugged by the incredibly soft and plush lamb’s wool rugs complete with self cleaning enchantments as he took in the 3-D Hologram mini-theater display that had all his favorite animes. He was surprised to find himself blinking back nostalgic tears when a gentle press of a button pulled up episode one, season one, of Blue Punch man, a favorite of Rica and him both. Then, happy to leave it on, he found his eyes wandering to the highly coveted electromana computer and monitor that ostensibly allowed one to study and develop ideal delving strategies for any of the nearby delves, and he was fiercely pleased to see that it now included, to a very limited extent, the closest delve from Ashland as well.

Yet the truth that Eric was damn well aware of, with its multiple options for hypothetical character generation and alternate dungeon and questline generations, is that computer could also serve as the ultimate gaming console that might, with a bit of high mana-tech modding, give even the legendary SkyDragon game he had so loved as a child a run for its money.

“State of the line entertainment center with 3-D anime and all the songs of a world long gone, and a gaming counsel that would make my old party mates green with envy.” Eric chuckled softly. “And one day… this will be available for everyone. And if my sense of this wonderful glorious city is right, hundreds if not thousands of elites here in Freetown are even now enjoying evenings with creature comforts very much like these. Aligning with Blue Corp was definitely the way to go.”

Though he noted the warning exclamation points on the blinking monitor, declaring Ashland a Province in Opposition at present.

Eric winced, momentarily struck with the crushing weight of all that he had lost, far too many enemies striking with far too much force and fury for him to do anything more than survive and, by some miracle, pull a single territory from the ashes of absolute ruin, even as he lost everything else. And, as far as a certain Silver tier artifact was concerned, save for minute handful of anomalies that only Gold could overcome, had effectively never had any claim to any of it whatsoever.

“I did what I could,” he whispered to himself. “And the fight’s not over. Not by a long shot.” The look he gave his mirror image was now the farthest thing from that of a self-conscious youth. His eyes blazed with determination. There was a hell of a lot that needed doing, and he’d handle it, one step, one territory, at a time. He could only hope that Ashland and Hope territory weren’t now absolutely flooded with Elite Bronze-tier mercenaries or he was pretty much screwed, especially since, from this moment onward, he dare not manifest his flashier powers embracing Higher Order concepts, like Phoenix Strike, lest he want countless factions presently forced to come for Earth with kid gloves to use that as a pretext to take off those gloves and attack full force.

Of course it wasn’t fair, but when the hell had anything about this ascension been fair? It was the situation he had to deal with. Without a Bronze or Silver talisman in play, he’d be a fool to use them anywhere outside a dungeon. And there too, he had to be careful, lest he rupture those pocket dimensions that were there for a reason, so he was loath to risk their collapse without careful consideration, a focus on control over power, and a cleared and secured route back the way he had come with the exit in sight that he could sprint to. Whether at the very beginning of a delve or when fighting the final boss… those were the only to spots he would dare, if he dared to use transcendent attacks at all. Though a part of him actually had hopes for the most subtle of his higher order powers, and those that mimicked a certain opponent that had come so close to killing them all... that was an issue for another day.

His face lit up with a brilliant smile as he opened the curtains of his floor to ceiling Alutopaz windows that were every bit as clear as glass, gazing down with wonder at the bright lights of the magnificent city below. For a just second, he felt almost as if he were looking down at the heart of Paris or Amsterdam. And he was quite pleased to see that even with the city’s glorious ascension, certain promises had been upheld. No nearby building blocked his view of the lake nearby, or the forest in the distance, even if the lake was now surrounded by what looked to be a fishing village, which Eric intuitively felt to be an extension of Freetown proper. And the gardens and parks below were just as lush and vibrant as ever, though his smile filled with heartwarming joy when he noted that the nice, wide spacious boulevard below, a shopping district Caliban had once dreamed would be full of happy customers and thriving workers, was now just that.

Truly, it was a far cry from the near ghost town that the Blue Quarter had been, just days ago… A lifetime ago. He shivered with wonder. Or perhaps… had never been at all. Perhaps this reality, the one he now walked and fully embraced, was one where Freetown had always blossomed. Fully the property of Blue Corp.

And that was when the crystal phone on the wall began a panicked beep and Eric felt a jolt surprise that quickly turned to dread, suddenly recalling what the tiny timer he had set in the corner of his interface was about. What it had to be about. Because of course, when he picked up the phone, the voice he heard was Caliban’s own.

“Eric. Eric! Thank goodness. You’re finally awake!”

Eric forced a smile, no matter the surge of sudden anxiety that was now souring the wondrous joy he had felt at waking up to a high tech wonderland, the tragedy of a ruined crater of a city and visions so many thousands dead (His fault. He triggered a doomsday device! How the fuck could he have known? So many of Malice’s cards used specifically to destroy him!) was no more than an awful dream he had finally slipped free of.

“Eric!”

He winced at the urgency he heard in his friend’s voice… his business partner’s voice. What exactly he was to the hidden prince of an entire faction, a descendant of Aurelia and so blood of his blood, blood of an angel? Just like him. Even if many generations removed. A man he had rescued form torture and death. Whose family he had saved. And all that, no more than a dream to everyone who wasn’t a galactic Contender with talismen of their own.

“Yes, Caliban. I’m here.”

His business partner took a deep breath, though Eric could sense the sudden spike of tension. Yet his voice, when he spoke, was measured. Precise. Controlled. “Are you aware of our bank charter?”

Eric winced, wondering if now, after the fact, bonds of brotherhood forgotten, his partner would chafe and revile just how overboard Eric’s demands might have seen.

“Yes.”

“All of Freetown is now tied to our bank, Eric. You understand this. Right?”

Eric swallowed. “Yes.”

“A charter which will control every last asset Blue Corporation might claim or seize upon Terra. All our assets and profits, save for direct tithes paid by farmers, traders, and independent business owners, are to be channeled through that bank, of which you are a 50% shareholder.”

Eric felt his cheeks flush, heart now pounding. Forcing himself to say the word. To deny nothing. “Yes.”

A painfully long pause. “A contract signed in both our blood. Radiating Silver-tier magics and System bindings. A contract I have no recollection of ever signing.”

Eric closed his eyes. Knowing they should be having this conversation in person, not over the bloody phone. And Caliban, an elite Bronze himself, was no fool. So there had to be a reason. A damn good reason. “Yes.”

“A contract that recognizes us both has independent sovereigns… independent powers.”

Eric said nothing.

“Do you know who I am, Eric Silver?”

Eric swallowed. “Yes I do.”

This earned a pained sigh. “I find myself captaining a ship with such potential it humbles me. With my wife asleep beside me. My beloved children happily studying in their adjoining rooms.”

Eric swallowed, having no idea what to say to that.

“Should I tell you the nightmare I woke up from?”

Eric sighed, rubbing his temples. “I can imagine.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Say it!” Caliban’s voice was unexpectedly rough and harsh.

Eric took a deep breath. “Your family and twenty thousand other innocent souls, cordoned off in the former arena that I sense no longer exists... screaming as they fought against corrupt goblins and ruthless Bronze tier mercenaries, and you helpless to save them as they were about to be burned alive, their souls in eternal torment as everyone was being forced through a portal and into a cage leading to a goblin soul-forge… the only one to survive our purge. Mother and I were damned thorough on that account, especially with the final moon. Now no moon at all. In the dream, I mean.

“Or perhaps… you dreamed of a massive meteor descending from the heavens. Just seconds from wiping Freetown off the map… the ruins of a city in far worse shape than this one that’s no more real now than a bad dream… only that meteor was pulled into an adjoining red territory. Freetown Saved. Only it wasn’t. A bitter enemy’s retributive strike obliterated everything and everyone who hadn’t already been enslaved or perished. An old enemy’s spite and hate so profound that they would do anything, absolutely anything, to see every last elf damned even as he alone ascended. A demon in every sense of the word.” Eric caught himself. “Or maybe you didn’t dream that. Maybe it was only me.”

For long seconds the phone was dead silent.

“I accept the charter as valid.”

Eric blinked at the odd tone in his business partner’s voice. Sensing arts and magics far beyond his specialty or ken. Yet he wasn’t troubled by it, it did nothing to him, save make his heart skip a beat, bones shivering underneath his skin.

“Good. Now please tell me why we are having this conversation over the phone instead of in very secure quarters, perhaps in the inner sanctum of a mutual friend.”

Caliban sighed. “Are you aware of the fact that this priceless bank charter which holds all of Blue Corp’s fortunes… perhaps both our fortunes… is effectively the collateral of a goblin loan to the tune of nearly two billion credits?”

Eric winced. “Yes. I’m damn well aware of Arlen Ort’s bullshitery.”

“No names!” Caliban hissed.

“Sorry.”

“The debt collectors are here, Eric.”

Eric’s jaw clenched. His heart began to pound, as words slipped free of his lips before he could process them, hold them back, or deny his killing intent. “Just point me to them, brother, and they will be a fucking past-tense.”

For long, painful seconds, Caliban said nothing at all. “Are you truly that strong?”

“Are they Silver?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I will make that happen.”

“And just what level are you, my enthusiastic and somewhat unexpectedly full business partner?”

Eric winced. “Forty nine. Still basic or White tier. But don’t let the number fool you. I pack quite a punch.”

Caliban sighed. “It doesn’t matter either way. These are experience barristers, and this is Bronze-tier lawfare. Our competitors are pulling out all the stops. On the plus side, we are both recognized as sovereigns, no matter how infuriating our enemies find it that they can find absolutely no records of our assets, feats, or accomplishments anywhere. The contract signed and sealed in blood, recognizes our status as sovereign states.”

Eric felt a certain measure of relief with those words. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Eric.”

“Yes, Caliban?”

“You have exactly 72 hours from this moment to somehow find and secure two billion credits worth of gold in bullion, coin, or artifact. If you can do that, we are saved. If you can’t… the goblinoid faction, insignificant as some foolishly believe it to be, would then have rights to both our bank charter and the goblinoid Terran bank charter that has somehow become subsidiary to our own charter, and absolutely everything that the bank owns which technically is every building and property within Freetown. Do you understand what I’m saying, Eric?”

Eric swallowed, his throat suddenly painfully dry. “Either I pull a golden miracle, or we’re completely fucked.”

“Pretty much, yes. Exactly that. I don’t suppose you have access to any such miracle?”

Eric’s thoughts raced, eyes widening when he realized that maybe there was more than one way to save the day here. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

He flashed a fierce smile, pulling his eyes away from the windows facing westward, showing both a beautiful nighttime cityscape below, a peaceful stretch of forest just beyond, and far off in the distance, the dark clouds and howling storm of a hellish inferno trapped only by honorable spirits and the wildly different mana pressure of a rapidly ascending deep red tier territory.

He shuddered, pretty sure he knew from experience with his Hope territory delve just how bad a hellhole it would be.

But there was another path he could take, after he and his sister had pulled a glorious hustle, selling her own unwanted training core for a five billion credit prize and a free ticket to the best treatment facility in the local sector.

He was just a second from reaching out to his sister, desperate to know how she was, but before he put it all on the line… best he know now where things stood.

“What if I told you I had access to a galactic credit account that could indeed cover that expense?”

The line went dead for long moments, Eric’s tension ratcheting. Caliban’s voice radiated barely controlled rage. “The Terran Council has put a temporary hold on all credit transfers to and from Blue Corp, in and out of System, sighting ‘accounting irregularities.”

Eric’s gut clenched. “That’s utter and absolute bullshit! On the very day those barrister assholes come? That’s absolute bullshit!”

“It’s been three days, Eric,” Caliban said with a bitter chuckle. “Three glorious, bittersweet days, waking up to a beautiful city that always was… and I know damn it’s a miracle that my family and I are even alive, even if I remember nothing from the nightmares my entire family lurches awake from with panicked shouts, every night. Tears in our eyes. Grateful just to be alive!”

Eric’s cheeks flushed, touched by his friend’s confession. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. By my right as a sovereign state, I was able to fend them off for three days. Our foes took advantage of the delay tactic to twist the Terran Council’s arms by means I’m uncertain of, considering how small the goblin faction is rumored to be, despite all their bluffs and lackeys and the absurd amount of political leverage that they somehow have…”

“Now is,” Eric quietly said, sensing Caliban’s shudder at the other end.

“Eric…”

“Not saying anything… mum’s the word.”

“And by your right as a sovereign state, you may also fend them off for three additional days. But from everything I’ve been able to piece together, you’re no barrister. You have no legal or administrative Profession whastsoever. Honestly, Eric, from what little I was able to glean from your public persona, you’ve managed to be very… discreet in your advancement.”

Eric’s cheeks flushed at what he sensed was the tiniest bit of judgment, or perhaps it was simple concern. And what the hell did his friend mean discreet? Did he see Eric as a powerless frightened no one who never cleared a single territory or gained a single kickass title while doing so? Just one of the sheep desperate to stay out of trouble and survive as a standard classer as best he could?”

Then he winced, cursing under his breath. Because with all his territories claimed, and the former talisman that his poor ancient sister had been forced to endure… it truly was as if he had never claimed a single one of those territories. As if he had never done a single thing of significance whatsoever with his life.

He shivered at the thought, suddenly feeling like he had been knocked free of the glorious heights to which he had ascended… before his lips stretched in a wide, feral grin. Suddenly realizing just how awesome an advantage that might be in the right circumstances…and just how much of an edge that might give him in the battles to come.

He was no longer a feared, reviled Contender.

As far as Earth’s factions were concerned, he was just a loser of a spoiled prince taking his ease in the one high tech city now absolutely filled with creature comforts while his sister was a heartbeat away from being wiped off the map.

To his enemies, he was now no one at all.

He spent a long wondrous moment gazing at the phoenix ring he had successfully claimed, as well as a handful of talismans now linked to his soul that he’d be a fool to ever put into play before the local sector had a chance to heal from the last Silver talisman that had yanked so many things in this reality off kilter.

It was a ring capable of hiding so many truths. A ring he had used to such glorious effect in that endless night. And it was a ring he suspected he could use again, to its fullest, even when no talisman was in play at all… so long as he was willing to pay the price.

He took a slow breath, thoughts racing.

“Are Necromancy and blood magics still considered reviled arts with the Terran Council?”

“Any art that raises the dead? Yes. That is considered grounds for immediate censure, shattering all alliances and serves as pretext for war.” His friend paused. “Everywhere except in territory held in Blue Corp. Yet now, with competing factions having access to Bronze tier mercenaries…”

Eric’s eyes widened with sudden alarm. “They are?”

“Of course. Lower level Bronze mercenaries have always been permitted. So long as various restrictions are met and penalties paid should they be stretched or broken… yes. It’s always been that way.”

“No it hasn’t.”

“Eric…”

Eric bit his lip, cursing softly under his breath. Knowing that if he had actually managed to clear out certain territories in time… but he hadn’t.

He had done the best he could, and it hadn’t been enough. Not be a long shot.

“Sorry, please continue.”

“As I was saying… Necromancers are free of all persecution in Blue Corp territory. This has established precedent. Furthermore, Very very few Bronze tier mercenary corps are willing to challenge our own elites. They know damn well the fiscal repercussions, and few companies would risk alienating a key source of both resources and financial liquidity in the galactic cluster at large over disputes in a newly ascended backwater. No offense.”

Eric smirked. “None taken. That’s good to hear that at least idiots won’t be attacking Blue Corp out of hand, even if it’s for the sake of self-interest, not fear of martial superiority at your end.”

“Of course not. Yet unfortunately the Counsel has pushed to expand the role that Bronze tier mercenaries who are not native-born may execute. In addition to defense, guard duty, and accepting contract that can include holding conquered territory and assisting Contenders in clearing Delves or Wild territories… they are now permitted to take capture and kill contracts on anyone accused of necromancy. Of course they are forbidden to be used in any military offensive or to persecute or interfere with native-born adventurers and Contenders… but only a fool would deliberately choose to be on the bad side of any faction or city employing Bronze tier companies.”

“Shit,” Eric cursed softly under his breath.

“Agreed. Earth’s Global Counsel’s decision is considered highly controversial, but that does no good when a newly forged necromancer’s first revenant results in a fifteen-year-old’s head being blown off by plasma fire after trying to clear our local forest of wild boar. Needless to say, the mercenary company responsible was severely censured for disregarding our sanctuary policy and endangering the lives of the girl’s adventuring companions. They will be paying a steep bloodprice to the family if they ever wish to bank or invest with us, or purchase the limited selection of high-tech gear carried anywhere on Earth that we alone specialize in. Now please get to the point, Eric. Because you have three days to prevent seizure of our entire city… lest we’d risk all out war. And that’s something my superiors will not allow because it threatens our ever more strained stance of neutrality and fair dealings throughout the sector.”

Eric’s jaw clenched. “Give me the name of that goddamned company.”

“Eric! Focus on the problem at hand. You getting killed does neither of us any good, especially if we end up losing the city to assholes who would dearly love to slaughter anyone and everyone with any trace of heritage arts whatsoever.”

Eric sighed, rubbing his temples. “Sorry, you’re right. And I’m surprised you even remember that much. Okay. Here’s the thing. I might just be my sister’s hack of a brother who’s not known for much more than chilling in his Blue Palace condo… speaking of which, all the properties I purchased? They’re still mine, right? This timeline we’re now on didn’t erase them or anything?”

“I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you about that, Eric, before our enemies came knocking. We have a number of prospective renters who would love to lease nearly all the floors you managed to purchase at absurdly generous rates… and some are offering to pay over triple what you did for your condominiums.”

Eric’s eyes widened, a rueful smile gracing his features as what he had hoped would happen over a couple years effectively happened overnight. “That’s awesome to hear! But I guess that’s something you and I can talk about another time. Point is, in the very near future, you might get a System message from one Ernest Slaughter. A bad boy teenage necromancer who doesn’t give a fig for finger wagging holier than though administrators and would happily give the finger to the whole damned world and all its factions if they think they can take him and his armies on.” Eric paused, his thoughts racing as he measured Caliban’s responsiveness, but there was only silence.

“Anyway, Should anyone with that particular moniker send you a System message looking to toss his territories to Blue Corp… would that be any sort of problem?”

Caliban sighed. “And I assume this individual will need Sanctuary status, inured to all warrants or challenges while he resides within Blue Corp territory?”

“Pretty much… yeah.”

“Then yes. We can absolutely accommodate him for a generous 10% share of territory profits generated from all sources, and immunity from persecution, in addition to assuring safe sanctuary quarters in multiple locations. We would hope, however, that he would be able to discretely maintain his armies… preferably out of areas we plan on developing.”

“Ten percent? Caliban that seems…”

“You’re already a fifty percent shareholder of the bank. And you now know exactly what that means.”

Eric flushed, forcing himself to dial it back. Realizing that he would, in effect, be double dipping, claiming 50% of the banks profits and 10% of both the territories tariffs, taxes and levies and 10% of the banks profits which would effectively include a piece of Caliban’s half as well. Meaning that in some cases, he might just be pulling in more than his friend on what were technically Blue Corp assets, at least in regards to sufficiently developed territories.

“And were I not haunted by dreams… nightmares… where the only mercy to be found was… never mind, Eric. I think you know what I’m saying.”

Eric winced, bowing his head. “You know what? That’s more than fair. Somehow, I’m certain he will accept.”

“Good.” Caliban gave a dry chuckle. “Then please encourage your friend to grab as much territory as he possibly can. After you… and your friend, secure us the gold we desperately need. Because I find myself with 60,000 highly trained professionals and their families, with access to multiple state-of-the-art processing, manufacturing, shipping and administrative facilities, a top tier shopping and retail hub… and no access to any farming hubs, and no wheat, rice, or barley contracts or food futures of any sort, and no more than a single week’s worth of food reserves. And how such a potential disaster even came about is utterly beyond me. Suffice to say that over a thousand families are making preparations to shift their focus to farming, those who have Professions that allow for even the slightest adjacent bonuses. Our fishing town will do us modest good, but as you might expect… goblin interests have already purchased every last grain future in any farming territory we have access to, and somehow managed the feat just three nights past.”

Eric sighed, feeling the pressure ratchet up once more, even as he gazed down upon the beautiful futuristic city below, complete with a mana-rail, the elevated train track looping peacefully through the entire city, with stations going right through a number of grand, futuristic buildings. Such a high tech wonder, built on a foundation that was so damned fragile, and for all that he had gloriously high hopes, he knew he was gambling a hell of a lot on what he could only hope to pull off in the days to come.

And he still hadn’t reached out to his sister, even if he had been awake for barely half an hour.

“Understood. We need hard currency and we need food. Or even better, direct agreements with as many farming villages and fishing communes as we can find. I’m guessing all our hunters are making best use of their classes?”

“As much as they safely can, yes. Ashland is rumored to have incredible resources at its disposal, yet for some reason it is now utterly shut off to us. The very few I tried to have investigate perished in the attempt.”

Eric’s jaw hardened. “I’ll take care of that when I can.”

Caliban sighed. “Just keep yourself safe, Eric. I sense you have stories to tell that I would love to hear, one day. But for right now you have to leave the city and do it without interacting with a single barrister or Wordsmith. Because you have no defense against them and a single curse, spell or edict could reduce your three day sovereign advantage to debtor’s damnation. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Eric’s jaw clenched. “They try that, I end them.”

“You do that, and you force my faction into war.”

“Shit.” Eric’s heart started to race. He immediately opened his interface map, both relieved to find it working just as he needed, and dismayed to sense reds closing in on his condominium even now.

His eyes widened in alarm.

“Cali, I’m hot. Our friends are coming for me right the fuck now!”

“Can you make it to the roof? An associate I trust has set up a pair of body suits, rapelling lines, and of course, there is the mana rail station on the tenth floor.”

“No good. Reds are above and below! They’re closing in now, Caliban.”

Caliban hissed with displeasure.

“Alright, I see several latches on the Alutopaz window. I assume I can pop it?”

“Yes of course! But there are safety measures in place to assure that no children or guests…” His voice was drowned out by a wrench and crack.

Strength check: Critical success! You have Effortlessly removed this window pane! (And placed it in storage, before it could fly free and decapitate multiple shoppers below!)

“Alright, Calibro! I’m out! I’ll contact you when I get the gold. And if any goblin-faction asshole tries to fuck with me once my pockets are full… I’ll consider myself well within my rights to pound their skulls in!”

“Eric, what are you… yes! Once you have the gold, you have every right to be escorted without harassment to any legally recognized conference room or neutral territory! AT that point it’s well within your right to…”

Eric paid no more heed to his friend’s words, the door to his condo suddenly shaking under the hammering force of a Bronze tier monster, as a silken voice behind the roars sought to penetrate Eric’s defenses.

“Eric Silver! By the pride and power of the Bloodtear Syndicate I serve you this sum—”

His words were cut off when Eric plugged his ears with blood, and jumped out the window.