God Mode: A LitRPG Adventure (Mythrune Online Book 1) Read online

  Level: 1

  Total Attribute Points: 9

  Attribute Points to next level: 1

  Health: 2 (40/40 Hit Points)

  Attack: 1

  Defense: 3

  Speed: 1

  Agility: 1

  Intelligence: 1

  Luck: 0

  These were some pretty low figures compared to most other RPGs. It was something that caught a lot of seasoned gamers off guard, especially since stats and levels weren’t so easily raised in MythRune. At the end of the day, though, you just had to be smart about where you focused your growth.

  After giving all the details another look-over, I confirmed the character model. Instantly, the figure in front of me disappeared and I felt my extremities shift to match my new Urok form. Fortunately the unnerving rippling sensation under my skin ended quickly.

  “Greetings, adventurer!” the narrator’s voice boomed from all around. “You have selected Urok as your starting race, and you will therefore be spawned in an Urok-native territory. Would you like to adjust your gameplay settings now?”

  I grinned like the Grinch about to ruin Christmas. “Yes,” I said in a loud, clear voice.

  I spent a minute fiddling with things just how I wanted them, then got to the important part: one of the key glitches to enable God Mode.

  “Set Pain Setting to one hundred percent,” I said. The default was ten percent and the game didn’t let you go past fifty. An error in the code screwed up the parameters, though. Rather than increasing your pain threshold to one hundred percent, your health couldn’t drop below one hit point. Bingo.

  “Warning,” the narrator said. “The Pain Setting cannot be set to exceed fifty percent for player safety. Your Pain Setting will be reduced to ten percent. Please consult your doctor to understand how virtual reality simulation will affect your body.”

  I watched the number drop from one hundred to ten, accompanied by a text box with some more health legalese about pregnant women and those prone to seizures. And just like that, I was immortal.

  “Tell me, adventurer,” the narrator continued when I closed the settings with a verbal prompt. “Do you intend to participate in the upcoming Tournament of Champions?”

  A translucent prompt popped up with the options, No and Yes, please tell me more. I selected the second one, unsure who would select No even if they weren’t a pro gamer making a serious run at all that cash.

  “Wonderful!” the narrator said. “We’re always in search of brave new warriors in MythRune, and you can rest assured, if you prove your mettle, your name will go down in the annals of history and you will be rewarded beyond your wildest imagination. The Tournament Lord, Lord MythRune, is most generous and has put forth a ten-million-dollar prize to the warrior who comes out on top. The tournament will begin in twenty in-game days.”

  A coin popped up in front of me and spun around in midair. On one side were the letters LMR, and on the other was the head of a stereotypical knight with a horned helmet. Was that supposed to be the great Lord MythRune?

  “In order to participate in the tournament, you must acquire a tournament token such as this. These tokens can be found almost anywhere throughout the world — in dungeons, as boss drops, in hard-to-reach alcoves, or as special quest rewards! Once you obtain a tournament token, you will be allowed admission into the tournament. There will be more updates to come, but for now, enjoy your adventure!”

  The menu disappeared and then I began to fall again. The wind blew against my face as my body flipped around in the darkness and then…

  Thud!

  My feet slammed into the ground and I involuntarily settled into a squatting stance. I exhaled, not because of any pain, but because of its complete absence. The land felt as lifelike as anything in the real world and, at the same time, completely unreal. There was no weakness or aching throb in my left knee. Not even a twinge. No indication that I’d blown it to smithereens in some low-stakes high school game tackling that behemoth tight end from Lowell High.

  No, in MythRune, I was one hell of a physical specimen.

  I looked around for the first time, taking in my surroundings. On all sides, I was surrounded by tall, dark pines, and directly above me was a clear blue sky. The air itself was crisp and pleasant, with just enough bite to it to rival the greatest autumn morning IRL. Had it always been this great? I honestly couldn’t tell if the step up was due to my VR rig or the changes since beta, but either way, it was a job well done on the part of Germaine Studios.

  “Command: Map,” I said aloud. In MythRune, you had the option to bring up menus via verbal commands. It was a bit archaic, but in times of need, it beat having to swipe around in the midst of battles.

  My eyes widened as the map popped up in front of me. Or at least that was what I hoped would have popped up. Instead, I was met with an aggravating text box.

  Map unavailable: You just got here! You think you’d have any idea where anything is yet without any help? Fool!

  Whoever wrote that prompt was a condescending…I shook my head. It didn’t matter. But one thing was clear: they’d taken it easy on us in beta. From the first step of the game, we’d had access to an entire world map.

  Luckily, I already had a pretty good grasp of most areas. I knew the rough location of every spawn point, as well as where to find easy Attribute Orbs and gear drops.

  Then it hit me.

  I swiped away the useless prompt with an irritated wave of a callused gray-blue hand and looked at the trees and green grass that surrounded me. This didn’t make any sense. The Uroks never spawned in the midst of lush vegetation. The Charred Hunting Grounds were just that — black, rocky expanses. This seemed more like the Pacific Northwest. Where in the world was I?

  The First Quest

  Day 1 — Nineteen Days to Tournament Start

  Pine needles crunched under my feet as I frantically ran from my spawn point through the surrounding trees. My chest heaved heavily with every breath. Not in fatigue, but in pure, unmitigated panic. I’d spent hundreds of hours scouring every nook and cranny of MythRune, and while I didn’t expect to recognize my spawn point initially, I had hoped a few minutes running around would give me what I needed to gain my bearings.

  It had been a solid ten minutes and I still had no idea where I was. Or where to go. Or where to find directions. Finally, I picked a direction: west. On the plus side, no other living things meant nothing attacked me. That was good, because I had nothing but a loincloth to my name. Forcing myself to get a grip, I held my course until the seemingly endless pines started to thin, replaced by open sagebrush plains.

  That was when I saw the village.

  Well, village was a flattering description. In reality, it was a collection of hide tents stretched over the bones of great beasts, the likes of which I hoped I never encountered while they were still living. Smoke rose from several campfires, and the brawny figures emerging into the morning sunlight confirmed my guess. I’d stumbled across an Urok hunting camp.

  This was not one of the starting locations for the Urok race, as far as I knew. Even worse, I still had no clue where in MythRune I was. But there was only one way to find out. Painfully aware of the loincloth that just covered my too-realistic-for-my-taste Urok manhood, I headed down the hill toward the camp.

  Fortunately, this Urok tribe seemed to function under the same mechanics as all beginning areas. Several tribe members eyed me curiously as I walked through the tents — some even waved or grunted out a greeting. I assumed they didn’t find me threatening, but whether that was because I was an Urok too, or if it was because I was weaponless and basically naked, I had no idea.

  Given the fact I was — or assumed I was — an outsider, I didn’t dive into the first tent I passed. No need to upset the locals. Instead, I made my way through the camp, looking for any signs or symbols that denoted a shop or anything else of significance, such as the chief’s tent. Although I’d never played as an Urok, I’d made sure to study everything I
could find on the MythRune Wiki about the orc-like race.

  The Urok people were divided into innumerable tribes that ranged in size from half a dozen members to thousands. On occasion, a great war chief would unite them under a single banner, but as far as I knew, that wasn’t going on right now. At least, I didn’t think so. But what I knew about this version of MythRune wouldn’t even cover as much as my pitiful loincloth did. I didn’t even know what continent I was on.

  That meant there was no way any of those quests, items, or potential token-landing spots would be around. I’d be starting from scratch just like everyone else. Fighting my rising panic, I focused my attention on one objective: finding a map.

  Rather than randomly asking every NPC in the camp if they had one, I searched for a merchant or trader of some kind. Although I didn’t have a single RuneCoin to my name, most starting locations would supply a greenhorn adventurer with basic gear. That was how it worked in most games, but MythRune had already thrown me for quite a loop.

  When I came across a tent with a crudely painted stack of coins on the door flap, I knew I was in business. No matter how far video games or VR technology evolved over the decades, there are some things that are universal.

  The inside of the trader’s tent was a dimly lit, eerie little mess of a place. The shop owner had made a show of caring by throwing a tattered, balding bearskin rug on the dirt floor, but aside from that, the overall presentation was severely lacking. There was a shelf to my right with several items on it, and even some laid out on the ground, but I could tell right away I’d need to find a bigger settlement to get anything of real quality.

  There wasn’t much to write home about: your standard low-level medicinal herbs (which I had no need for), what looked like a bison skull (maybe I could use it as a club?), and a small stack of what even my untrained eye could identify as poor-quality leather pieces for crafting.

  “Can I help yeh?” a voice came from my left. Standing behind a wooden plank propped on two barrels to serve as a counter was a yellow-skinned Urok. His horns were small for a male specimen and twisted and curved with no symmetry whatsoever. This dude definitely wasn’t the pride of the camp, but I decided I’d better be polite anyway.

  “Excuse me, do you know where I can find a map?”

  The Urok frowned like I’d just told him a bad momma joke. When he spoke, it was in a thin, nasally voice. “Why should I help you? I don’t know you.”

  “You wouldn’t. I’m new here.”

  “We don’t take much to outsiders.”

  “I’m just passing through.” I decided to try the role-playing angle. I knew NPCs didn’t like it when you tried to break immersion on them. “I, uh…seem to have lost my gear, though and could really —”

  “Sounds like something an outsider would say. And we don’t take much to outsiders.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said with a nervous chuckle. This was definitely not the welcoming party I’d expected. “You don’t like outsiders. That’s fine. Maybe you can help me find what I need so I can be on my way. I’m looking for a map —”

  “Well, I don’t do business wif anyone I don’t trust!” the oddly insistent Urok slammed his fist on the makeshift counter. “And nobody else in camp will, either, I can tell you that.”

  I resisted a smirk. It was clear where this was headed. This guy played the part of the hardheaded local, and those folks usually need something done for them. Queue the beginner’s quest!

  “Well, what can I do to change your mind?” I asked.

  “Well, let’s see here.” The Urok rubbed his chin hairs with yellow, dirty fingers then grinned. Bingo. “If you gain the trust of Durfa, I’d say you’d be good as grunge to me.”

  Luckily for me, “grunge” was a good thing to the Uroks. I think it meant something like family. Hopefully.

  “Who’s Durfa?” I said.

  “You’ll know her when you find her,” he said. “And she’ll have plenty for you to do. All you need to do is say ‘Command: Show icons,’ and you’ll see icons above all our heads, indicating what we have to offer. Blue icons are merchants, and yellow belong to those folks with quests to offer. Everyone else won’t have an icon, but that don’t mean you won’t get something from talking to them. Anyway, Durfa’ll be the only one offering you a new quest in camp for now. Earn her trust and then I’ll sell you what you need.”

  Well, that UI was new. I was glad he was helpful enough to explain that handy little feature. In beta, everything had taken place in the quest log.

  “But you don’t even have what I need,” I protested, waving a burly hand at his scant wares. Couldn’t someone just give me a damn map?

  “Well, whaddya need? Maybe I can find it.”

  I sighed. “A map of MythRune.”

  Now it was the trader’s turn to look confused. “You want a map of the whole world?”

  Well, he had me there. “Okay, dumb question,” I confessed. “Where, uh, is here?”

  “We’re on the continent of Tournia — you thick in the head or something?”

  Tournia. While it didn’t take much imagination to realize they’d named the land mass after the word tournament, the revelation left me with more questions than answers. There was no Tournia in beta.

  Had they created an entire continent just for launch and the Tournament of Champions? Things just kept getting better and better.

  The Urok stood a little taller. “Just because we’re out in the middle of nowhere don’t make us any savages. We got maps. Now get out of here before I change my mind!”

  The trader had no idea how his information had left me reeling, but I vacated into the sunlight without another word. The last thing I wanted to do was offend the dude again or look like an even bigger idiot. Outside, I scanned the camp, which was now bustling with morning activity. There looked to be more than twenty Uroks — more than I’d thought when I first spotted the tents. My mind raced with the compounding implications of an entirely new area, and I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. All that mattered right now was that I found Durfa as fast as possible. Every minute I stood around like a confused idiot was a minute the hundreds of thousands of players competing against me widened the gap between us.

  “Command: Show icons.”

  In an instant, different-colored icons appeared over the heads of all the NPCs populating the camp. This was another new feature not in the beta. I remembered some of the players complained about being overwhelmed by the sheer number of options, so having some sort of way to cut through the noise would be helpful.

  As I scanned the camp, I saw a yellow icon at the other end of the tents. I made my way down the dirt path, past the curious Urok NPCs. I might have been the same race as these guys, but it was clear to them that I was different. I’d have to do some serious relationship building to fit in with the locals.

  The yellow icon hovered above a homely-looking Urok woman. She wore an oversized wolfskin — no, wait, several wolfskins — haphazardly sewn together with holes on each side for her arms. It went all the way down past her knees, covering the entirety of her large body. Her dark-green skin was sprinkled with sores and cracks — evidence of a hard life in the fictional world she populated.

  As I approached, she looked up from the washboard she labored over, though I couldn’t tell from her face if she was suspicious or eager.

  “What can I help you with, young traveler?” she said, her voice decidedly more maternal and intelligent than I’d expected from her countenance.

  “I was told that…you could use my help?” I said, unsure of the best way to prompt a quest from her.

  “Oh, really?” Durfa stood up and placed her hands to her lower back, stretching and cracking her back in the process. “And I’m sure there’s nothing in it for you, hmm?”

  “I don’t know where I am,” I confessed. “I need a map, and the shop owner told me he wouldn’t sell it to me until I earn your trust.”

  “Oh, that’s Hurka,” Durfa said
, shaking her head. “He’s an exploitative little lizard, but he’s got a good heart. Said you’re lost, hmm? Well, you’re not the only one.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Instead, Durfa replied with a question of her own. “What do you think of camp so far, hmm?”

  I tensed up. A trick question? Branching conversations were always the toughest in MythRune. You could either be honest and hopefully get rewarded, or be chastised for your forward nature. Just like real life, if I answered wrong, I could negatively impact my budding relations with the washerwoman. My mind went back to the status of the canvas tents. Dirty. Worn. These people looked less like a proud Urok tribe and more like a den of goblin scavengers.

  “It’s a bit run-down, I’d say.”

  Durfa nodded vehemently. “Our chief promised us a better life, so we followed him from our ancestral lands on the Bloodbone Plains to this place. He told us we were fools to spend our lives and the lives of our offspring fighting over scraps. And so here we came, not to conquer but to build commerce. Huh, we don’t even have a proper place to start a village, let alone build it into a trading post. But there’s a place nearby that could work…if there was some brave young Urok willing to get a little bloody.”

  A notification menu filled my screen.

  Quest: A Lesser Problem

  Durfa, a washerwoman from the Horuk tribe, believes you may be able to gain Esteem from the tribe chieftain by eradicating a number of cave ghouls shacking up in a cave system two miles directly to the west. It is there the Horuks hope to build a permanent settlement. Shouldn’t be too hard for a big bad Urok like you, should it?

  Main Objective: Slay twenty lesser cave ghouls.

  “Thanks, Durfa,” I said with a smile and a nod. “Consider those ghouls as good as dead.”

  “Well, if you’re going to all that trouble, I guess it’d be rude of me not to at least give you some provisions.” Durfa pulled out a couple of small bottles from behind her. “Take these.”