Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG

Chapter 228

Chapter 228

Raw danger flagged in my mind. The lone figure had an ancient, primal feeling, not unlike the Crimson Nosferatu from the higher floors, though that encounter was so oppressive it made it almost impossible to think. Still. Now that I had a better look, the grim T shape that bisected the knights helmet was unnaturally dark, as if the sourceless light radiated from apparently nowhere. I let the unfinished summon slip from my mind and instinctively took a step back. The broken point of the knights sword stayed trained on me. When I didnt use any of my abilities or summon Talia again, there was a creak of metal, and the broken pointed shifted to Nick.

A voice resonated from within the helmet, metallic with a hint of mockery. Why are you here?

Still soaked to the bone, Nick glanced over at me, probably looking for guidance. For once, I didnt have any for him. Thisus being here, discovering this placeresulted from Nick, following his instincts. Unfortunately, that meant we were improvising.

And even as he stepped forward, sword untouched in its sheathe, shield unstrapped from his back and held loosely in his off-hand, I could see how scared he was. Scared and uncertain. From his perspective, hed been daisy-chaining from one failure to another since the opening act of this shitshow.

Come on, Nick.

A reasonable question, good knight, Nick said. There was a trace of the LARP-speak hed used before the trial to talk to Talia, but it was more downplayed, reserved. Almost Shakespearean. He smiled, mouth closed. I seem to have lost my way.

Skittering feet echoed off the marble behind us and I spun, looking for the source, finding nothing. I was careful to not do anything that could be misinterpreted as aggression, but I angled myself with my back to a fountain, so I could both watch behind us and help Nick if things degenerated.

The suit of armor creaked as the knight cocked his head. Perhaps it is best that you arrived here. At the simulacrum, rather than the whole.

And where is this? Nick asked. Or rather, what is it meant to be?

The armor exhaled a tinny rasp and spoke, equal parts reverent and bitter. A pale imitation, failed and discarded. Avalon.

Something about the name was unbearably familiar. But I couldnt place it.

As the knight threw back his head and cackled, the shadows around the edges of the room grew darker, pressed inward. The cruelty is immeasurable. We were found imperfect, and he threw us away. All his creations. Yet graced the likes of you with his boon?

Nicks eyes flicked around, searching the shadows. Only gods and crazed old men speak in riddles, friend. Declare your meaning plainly, so we may reach common ground.

The knights voice grew angrier the more he spoke, building to a crescendo. Are you truly so ignorant of the potential you squander? The favor you hold? You are unworthy of the legacy of Pendragon.

With that last word, it clicked. Arthur Pendragon. As in Arthur of the sword-in-the-stone variety. This knightand potentially the surrounding creatures, lurking in the shadowswere cribbed from Arthurian lore. But none of this seemed productive. The knight was clearly addled, a more refined version of the failed experiments we faced in the first ripple, but just as mad.

Or at least, that was what I thought.

Nicks face was stricken, pale. I never asked for any of this. For my title.

What the hell?

The knight laughed that bitter laugh once more. Your table is vacant, your queen reduced to a fragment that may never be whole again. And even here, in this godforsaken place, you cant say his name.

Nicks arms went slack, dangling limply at his side. Afallach chose the wrong person.

His anguish resonated deeply. Echoed similar thoughts Id had about my patron, time and time again. That the shoes he wanted me to fill were too inconceivably big, and giving me the Ordinator class was an irreconcilable blunder.

Slowly, the knight lowered his sword to a ninety-degree angle, pointing it to the ground at his feet. Then submit yourself to my judgment, so he may iterate once more. Capitalizing the finality of the statement, two more suits of armor stepped out from the shadows behind the knight, flanking him on either side. They felt less ancient than the first, but looked powerful. The shadows pressed in, tightening the circle into a stranglehold. I could almost make out the creatures withinglimpses of long limbs, and teeth, and claws.

Nick straightened his back, set his shoulders. If I do as you ask, will you let my friend go?

After brief consideration, the knight nodded.

What are you doing? I caught his shoulder.

He gave me a half-hearted sigh. Look at them all. You were right. This was a dumb idea.

I never said that.

Seeing as how I keep pulling you into my shit, the least I can do is get you out of it.

A god missed a box on his checklist and somehow you got the bag. Who gives a damn if youre the right person. I snapped. None of us asked for any of this. This clusterfuck of patrons, and powers and abilities and tragedy and mind games and knives in the fucking dark. Were survivors. Not the fucking devout and chosen. And you. I rounded on the knight. No wonder your god abandoned you.

The sword switched targets again, the knights movement incredibly fast. Do not speak of matters you cannot possibly understand

Just like the Crimson Nosferatu. The ones that think theyre older are more personality driven. Theyll cream you in a fight, but have exploitable quirks.

I snarled. Keep whinging, you recyclable motherfucker, but I have a damn excellent memory and nothing you say is going to change the facts. Honor itself is an ancient concept, but the Arthurian Knights of the round made it their own. Yet here you are, a coterie of half-baked failures attempting to pass judgment on the genuine article through ambush and trickery.

All three of the knights stepped forward, their body-language brimming with anger.

Uh. Matt. Nick tried to cut in.

Im not fucking done. I pointed at the center knight, still advancing with the broken sword. Because if this colossal dipstick had an atom of his creators essence, gave two dog-squatting shits about what his patron wanted, he would have found an honorable way to prove you unworthy.

Take the bait, dammit.

I stood there impassively, giving nothing away even as the knights advanced and my heart hammered in my throat.

Almost begrudgingly, the broken knight ground to a halt, the others pausing beside him. I felt something staring at me through the T of his visor, radiating hate. How mirthful, for one such as you to speak of honor.

I showed my teeth. None of this has anything to do with me. Its all his show. Im just along for the ride.

If that is what you believe, you have not been paying attention. With that cryptic statement, the knight returned his focus to Nick. He held his sword out to the retainer on his left, who held it point down while the knight held his arm up and unstrapped his gauntlet.

Nick leaned over and whispered in my ear. What the hell is happening?

That should be my line.

Matt.

I shook my head. Just listen. Hes strong. Dont know how big the gap is, safe to say its substantial. But you can do this. You dont have to win. Just stay on defense, drag it out long enough for me to find an angle. Ive got your back. Just buy me time.

Before Nick could ask what was probably one of many pointed questions, the knight removed his gauntlet and cast it on the ground, where it landed and bounced with a resounding clang. The same dark shadow that formed the creatures swirling behind us made up his arm and clawed hand. When he spoke, his voice echoed through the chamber, resonating power and authority. Usurper of Pendragon. I challenge you to a duel.