Chapter One

*

“Verrick Warren, please take the stand.” A monotone governmental type, one who has submitted to the totalitarian ways of the Genevan government, called out as he read Verick’s name off of the roster for the day. Verrick stood, the chains binding his wrists and ankles clattering against the marble floors. They were incredibly heavy, even for his six foot two inch frame. “Note that all statements made in this Court of Justice will be noted and kept in record.”

Verrick took the lone stand and looked at the triumvirate that headed his execution. He wasn’t a naive fool and he could see the foul looks in the eyes of all that viewed him. His clothes were baggy and he hadn’t been able to perform basic hygiene on himself in the seventeen days they had kept him imprisoned. Since he’d been locked up, he hadn’t seen the light of day and was barely given enough “food” to survive.

He took the stand and before the same governmental type could speak again, Verrick spoke out. “Oh, your Holinesses. Oh, Great Ones of Judgement. I ask one favor of you all today. Just one.” He held up his index finger towards the triumvirate that would “hear” his case. “I respectfully ask all of you…” He waited a moment before he flipped them all the bird. The shock was plastered on their faces. “To go fuck yourselves.”

His grin as they shouted in outrage was self-deprecating. The outcome of this trial was set in stone. Being brought to the triumvirate only meant one thing.

They thought he killed his fiance.

They would send him to Argon.

The middleman of the triumvirate stood and held up his hand to calm the court, in which only those of “respectable backgrounds” would attend. “Please, peace in the court. Verrick Warren, what have you to say for yourself and the murder of your fiance, Anna Price?” There was scorn written in every feature of the man’s features, but his voice maintained a semblance of professionalism.

“Fuck all of you. Do you dare accuse me of murdering Anna? You governmental types only want to silence me. I would never, but you won’t listen to that. This is a death sentence, not a trial. Get on with your bullshit before I plant my foot up your ass.” All humor had left the face of Verrick. He knew his actions would warrant him no sympathy from the audience. The potential “sponsors” for his campaign in Argon.

Sponsors were those who found an individual interesting or that their crimes weren’t severe enough to warrant the level of action the government instilled. They were sympathizers who profited from the actions of the “players” inside of Argon. They used the death sentences as a form of entertainment. They let their frustrations out when they watched throats get slashed open, heads crushed, or players devoured by any manner of beasts.

The top thousand players automatically broadcasted their journeys through Argon, in either first or third person. The time dilation was nearly two times that of the outside world. They never ran out of laughs, intense dramas, or action-packed adventures to indulge their piece-of-shit selves.

Verrick knew the statistics since Argon had been released. The crime was down nearly eighty percent. The economy was up by three hundred percent. Blah, blah, blah. Argon was wrong. He advocated for the removal of Phase One, and he had been gaining support. That was the real reason Anna was dead. He was the reason for the death of his fiance, but he had not committed the murder himself. Although, he might as well have after all is said and done.

“You will spend the remainder of your natural born life redeeming yourself in the world of Argon. There is overwhelming evidence against you in the case of Anna Price’s murder and thus, we find you guilty. You will be briefed on the perks and aspects of a Player in Argon before your induction.” The middle judge slammed down his mallet and waved towards the man who’d initially introduced Verrick. He then waved towards the guards to have Verrick taken away.

“I know the truth! I was set up! You won’t keep the secrets from coming out. You will all fail and I will laugh as I watch everything you’ve built burn to the ground! I will piss on your fucking ashes!” Verrick had once been a sane man. He had been well spoken, well educated, and highly ambitious. It had been his downfall. He was broken, a savage. His raucous laughter echoed throughout the courtroom.

The security detail that had been sent to escort him to the induction ceremony couldn’t stop his struggling. One of the extra guards nearby stuck him with a needle and he quickly became unconscious.

*

In the Judge’s chambers, the triumvirate sat and mused about their daily quota of Players for Argon. “The Warren boy knows too much. See to it that he meets… Less than reasonable circumstances inside of Argon.” The middleman, John Toyer, spoke calmly with a calculating look in his eye. “If it ever gets out that thirty percent of Players were truly framed for their crimes to increase the Player base, we would be ruined.”

Jordan Salvo and Darren Andrews both nodded towards John. “Our rivals had to be eliminated for Phase Two and Three to be functional. In five years time, our goals will fall into alignment and the people will never have to want again. The world will be a peaceful place where we will no longer be needed. On that day…” He held up three vials, “We will finally rid the last bit of cruelty from the world.” He looked each one in the eye.

“For the Greater Good.” He spoke with fanaticism and righteousness.

“For the Greater Good,” they both responded intensely.

*

Verrick awoke with a start and found himself in a “Player Pod”, as the Genevan government kindly called it. His body was completely submerged in a light blue, but mostly clear, substance and his face was covered with an oxygen mask. Several needles ran into his body to provide nutrients for sustainment and to prevent decay of his body while he was inside Argon. There was a speaker on both sides of the top of his pod. He could see only to his left and right out of his peripherals. His whole body was frozen in place by whatever the strange goo was. It was very solid, yet cold and liquid like.

A female voice came in over the intercom. “Verrick Warren, this is your induction into Argon. You will wake in a new world that is system oriented, much like a video game. You will have twenty distributable stats for your character sheet to disburse as you see fit. You must speak commands to the system to interact. The developers decided that walls of text would distract from the surroundings.

“All your base stats will be ten. There is no leveling system, so your initial stats will be the only ones you can allocate personally. Equipment can provide stats and hidden traits, such as damage output and armor capabilities. Skills are a unique factor of Argon which will determine how strong you can be. You’re allotted a total of fifteen skills, which I would advise you to carefully think about before taking on other skills. Two passive skills with the same bonus will not be additive.

“You will have three Talent points as well when you start which will grant you anything from extra stats to increased capabilities. They are determined from which you can select before you even enter the game. You will have ten options. Skills can be obtained by doing just about anything. Magical abilities fall into a different category. You have a limit of five abilities. Skills will either be passive or active and take up stamina while abilities will be exclusively active and take up Magic Points. Your Health Points determine how much damage you can take.

“Keep in mind that your natural health regeneration in-game is equivalent to here, so a fatal wound, even with three thousand health, will still be fatal over time. There are healing potions, though they are rare, there are healing Magics, which are even rarer, and then there is Alchemy. Alchemy utilizes herbs to create several effects, such as temporary or permanent stat enhancing, creating your own potions or poisons, and many other things.”

The mystery woman was an encyclopedia of information so he listened intently. This would be hard.

She was silent for about a minute. “Despite what you may think, you still have supporters. Survive, my friend, and make sure to give them Hell.” He heard the click of a button and his vision went dark.

*

Verrick woke with a throbbing headache and looked around. He seemed to be in a small village of some sort. He looked at his hands and still saw the scars of his childhood. His body felt comfortable and there had been no character creation, so he felt it was safe to assume that he was in his own body.

“Alright, let’s get this shit show on the road. System, how many Talents do I have available.” He spoke to the air. He thought he was going crazy talking to himself, but only a couple seconds passed before he heard a male’s perky voice respond to him.

“Player Verrick Warren, you have three Available Talents to choose from. Should I list your Available Talent options now?” The system sounded like it was a professional therapist with how well his voice soothed, and how well the words flowed. It was like he was talking to a real person instead of a machine.

It didn’t take him long to answer, though he appreciated that the mystery girl who’d briefed him had given him the information she had. He could only appreciate her until he realized she was only doing her job and was still apart of the Geneva government, despite what she’d said before he’d been sent here.

The system began rattling off names of Talents, “Strength of an Ogre, Blood of a Troll, Fleetfoot, Berserker's Wrath, Warlord’s Handling, Shroud of Darkness, Magical, The Hunter, Iron Skin, and Juggernaut.” It was no help with explaining what any of the Talents did for him.

“System, please give me a detailed description of each Talent.” He looked around at the small village and began feeling nervous. Argon was a world of the corrupt after all.

“Strength of an Ogre doubles your Strength. Blood of a Troll doubles your Vitality. Fleetfoot doubles your Agility. Berserker's Wrath increases your damage output by two percent for every one percent of your missing health. Warlord’s Handling grants you the Two-Handed Weapon proficiency and doubles your proficiency with said weapons. Shroud of Darkness grants you the Stealth ability and doubles your effectiveness with said skill. Magical increases the abilities you can learn from five to eight and increases your Magic Points by fifty percent. The Hunter grants you the skill trapping and proficiency with bows. Proficiency with bows and traps is increased by fifty percent. Iron Skin reduces the effectiveness of physical damage dealt to you by forty percent. Juggernaut reduces the effectiveness of all damage dealt to you by twenty percent and doubles your health.”

It took Verrick a moment to comprehend what the system had said, but now he had a choice to make. He realized that The Hunter, Shroud of Darkness, and Fleetfoot would make him the perfect assassin type character, but he wasn’t ready to compromise his morals and become a murder like the rest of the people in Argon. He looked at Juggernaut, Iron Skin, and Blood of a Troll, but that would leave him with no offense. He questioned whether or not Blood of a Troll would be better than Strength of an Ogre before he finally spoke to the system.

“System, I choose Juggernaut, Fleetfoot, and Strength of an Ogre.” He felt his body change internally. He felt more powerful, more stocky, and much more balanced. He would need to find weapons and armor, but he figured that would come in due time. He had to figure out where exactly he was before he could run off and start trying to kill things. As they always say, information is power. After all, that’s why he’s in such a shitty situation.

He began to look around and he realized how run down the entire village looked. The only weapons he saw were pretty poor quality. Most were rusted from how long they’d been sitting out, exposed to the air without proper maintenance. Verrick headed to the center of the village. He’d seen a small smithy, a butcher shop, and what looked like a mess hall. There couldn’t be more than fifty people in such a small village, yet he’d hardly seen anybody.

At this point he realized that he had made a mistake. He still hadn’t allocated his twenty free stat points. After breaking off of the main road and hiding somewhere dark, he began talking to the system once again.

“System, please tell me my stats.” He waited the short time it took for the system to respond. He was wondering how this would work without a status table. It surprised him when he saw a mental picture form as the system began speaking to him.

“Player Verrick Warren character sheet: Health Points: two hundred out of two hundred. Health Point Regeneration, three Health Points an hour. Magic Points: one hundred and fifty out of one hundred and fifty. Magic Points Regeneration, five Magic Points an hour. Stamina: ninety-eight out of one hundred. Attack: fifteen. Defense: fifteen. Strength, twenty, doubled from ten to twenty by Juggernaut. Dexterity, ten. Agility, twenty, doubled from ten to twenty by Fleetfoot. Vitality, ten. Constitution, ten. Intelligence, ten. Wisdom, ten. You have twenty undistributed stat points.” This was the first time that the system actually sounded like a machine. It conveyed the stats precisely and the mental image created was detailed. He could see which stats tied into one another.

“System, allocate five points into Strength, ten points into Agility, five points into Vitality, and five points into Constitution.” After that, Verrick felt surer of himself. His body flooded with increased strength, speed, and he felt even more stocky once again. “I could get used to this.” A frown covered his face as he remembered what the mystery woman had said before he’d left. He’d have no more chances to add more stat points to his build. What he had done was completely final. Only titles and achievements would help him now.

“Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing slacking off?” Verrick was still lying in the shade as he hadn’t moved from when he’d allocated his stat points. The man walking towards him carried a short sword and wore leather armor compared to the rags of the regular village people. “Get the fuck up, you disgraceful piece of filth! You dare lounge when the rest of the village works to their death bed? I should gut you here and now to right the wrong you’ve done them.” The guard reached forward to grab his arm, however Verrick had other ideas.

“That’s a nice sword you have there.” Verrick felt light on his feet and he’d quickly got up and away from the guard as he’d reached out. “Anyway, I can convince you to give it to me peacefully?” Verrick’s voice held a sharp edge, while his eyes screamed murder. He was ready to jump any second.

“Paton. Grune. Get over here, now!” The guard in front of him shouted. Two more leather-clad individuals came from around the corner from where Verrick had taken his time to allocate his points. One was short and lanky but had a strung bow with a nocked arrow at the ready. The other was built like a bull toting a large claymore that rested against his stocky shoulders. Verrick didn’t like his odds. He put up his hands in a defensive position, palms out towards the trio to show that he meant no harm.

“I’m sorry to have offended you, but I just arrived in the village. As you see, I have nothing to my name but the clothes I currently wear.” The guards’ eyes filled with suspicion. Verrick wanted the short sword in front of him, but he wasn’t willing to die for it. He doubted that he could take the trio out by his lonesome. Especially considering that he’d never really been in a fight before and he was completely defenseless.

“Grune, run him down.” Verrick didn’t know what that meant and became tense as the giant claymore-wielding monster of a man began walking towards him with a grin. Verrick had to force himself to stay still for fear of having Paton shoot him. Grune, as the initial guard had stated, lifted his claymore into the sky and let it descend toward Verrick.

Verrick hardly flinched as the claymore found its way into the soft dirt next to him. “Listen newby. This village here is named after our benefactor, the Great One, Sir Magnus. Every individual has a purpose, and those that aren’t adept at the finer arts are sent to the fields or the forest. If you wish to stay here, you will need to work for your food. If you do not meet the minimum required work in a day, you don’t eat.” Grune began doing a full body check on Verrick to ensure that he was weaponless.

Very few people gave Verrick pause as he was a lean, muscular, six foot two inches mammoth to most, but Grune towered over him. Verrick really hoped he never got in a spat with the fellow, but he did seem nice enough.

“I wish to learn the way of the sword. Is there anybody in the village that could help me do so?” He asked the leader of the band, the first guy that had come towards him.

“We don’t have a trainer here and we don’t give out weapons to newbies.” The man looked to be in his late twenties, if not early thirties. His eyes spoke volumes of the horrors he’d witnessed. Possibly even committed himself.

“Can you not help? I know next to nothing about using a weapon, so even the basics would be a good place to start for me. I can be useful. I’ve never been able to perform any of the finer, more delicate arts, but I have been able to hold myself in a spat against bigger, faster foes than myself.” Verrick stepped back when Grune gave a challenging grunt, his chest flexing his rock hard pecs.

“No, I won’t help you.” He turned and began to walk away, but Verrick wouldn’t let him go.

“Coward. I don’t think you could take me, even with that sword. You’re just a coward masquerading around as a valiant knight. Sod off with your horse shit. I’ll just find a different way.” Verrick’s eyes were defiant as the man fumed.

“Hear me, runt. I am the son of the Magnus and you will give respect where respect is due. I’ve spared you once, but maybe I should spare this village from you.” Verrick realized that made the man in front of him the leading figure in the village. The man turned away once more, “I will not fall to the likes of you and your pathetic banter. Grune, show him the stables. Paton, let’s go.”

Grune’s eyes sported a very predator-like gaze as if challenging Verrick to try anything else. “Let’s go to the stables, my man. Maybe I can prove to him that he should be training me instead.” They didn’t walk very far, but the stench hit him like a brick wall. He stopped and gagged, trying his best not to puke. He realized his stomach was empty and he hadn’t had a thing to eat or drink since he’d been here, though he hadn’t been here any longer than an hour. Or maybe more? He wasn’t too sure. “Gotta find out how to keep track of time in this shit hole.” Verrick grumbled to himself.

Grune opened the door to the stables, pointed towards an empty bucket and a very poor imitation of a mop. When he looked back to ask Grune where to fill up the bucket, the goliath of a man was gone. “Well, horseshit.” He looked around and snickered to himself. “What a terrible joke.”

It was an arduous task. He was uncomfortable and the people looked at him strange. Finding the well - or whatever it was they used to consolidate water - was not working out very well. He’d already been looking for two hours. Anybody he began walking towards avoided him like he had the Black Plague.

“They’re all making this so much harder than it has to be. When can I just kill things and get stronger? When can I begin to farm precious equipments and begin the trek through the Tower of Ascension? Why the Hell did I get stuck cleaning horseshit out of some rinky vilage’s stable?” With a long drawn out sigh, he kept looking. He was looking at the sky and the sparse coverage provided by the clouds high up in the sky when he felt his bare feet become damp.

“Fucking finally!” Verrick shouted into the air. He’d walked in a straight line until he’d left the village and trekked a few feet into the forest. There was a small river in the forest with a worn path leading up to its banks. “I should have seen that.” he sighed again. It had already been a long day and he hadn’t even killed anything. That made him think of the winning conditions.

“System, state quests.” He had a good feeling.

“Current quests, four out of ten. Three lifetime quests. Villainous Cannibalism, slay one hundred other players. Progres: Zero players slain. Rewards: Freedom. Ascendant, pass the Tower of Ascension. Progress: Zero floors passed. Rewards: Freedom. Powerful, maintain rank one for three consecutive months. Progress: Rank four hundred thousand five hundred and sixty-seven. Power: One hundred and twenty-one points. Rewards: Freedom. One quest for relations, Horseshit. Clean the stables. Rewards: Small familiarity increase. Half of daily work requirement.”

He had been right in thinking that the task given to him by the Magnus guy was a real quest. It was surprising that it counted for a full half day’s work. “System, what are my current relational alignments.”

“Relations. Currently only one available. The Magnus’ Village finds you: Unpleasant. It will take two more quests with a small familiarity increase to change their view to Contempt.” The system responded with some amusement in its voice.

As Verrick began to fill the bucket full of water, the noise of a branch breaking alerted him to possible danger. He looked around and couldn’t find anything, but his guard had been raised. His body was tense and he waited to spring. “Anybody out there?”

*

Ezekiel muttered to himself, “That stupid whore. She bled all over my new robes. She should’ve known how expensive these were and bled away from me. How dare she?” He held a dagger in which the crimson lifeblood of his most recent victim was being washed away with a filthy cloth. “Hey Bitch, Villainous Cannibal status.”

A deep female voice, gruff like she’d been smoking her whole life, responding with a scowl. “Is it really hard for you to add one to six? How’d I get a stupid shit like you as a host? You have seven out of a hundred, now quit bothering me with trivial shit and get your ass moving.”

Ezekiel just shrugged, there was nothing but time for him. Despite being only sixteen years old, he didn’t mind Argon. It fascinated him. He had total freedom do do as he pleased. He had stayed at this rinky dink village of Magnus for nearly two weeks, praying on the local inhabitants of the world. They were easy. They were weak. He was strong, so he would take what he pleased and nobody would stop him else they meet the edge of his dagger.

He made his way through the forest next to the pathway, he was paranoid and always thought others were watching him, until he saw a sight that made him giddy. Defenseless prey. A large, ragged teen, probably three or four years his senior, was attempting to fill a bucket in the shallows of the riverbed. “Idiot.” He murmured to himself.

Ezekiel had to think about how he wanted to play this. He always liked to see the fear and horror in the eyes of his victims. The man in front of him would be easy pray, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun. He intentionally stepped on a twig, disabling Stealth, and placed his dagger in its sheath. He watched the reaction of the guy. He called out and Ezekiel decided to make his appearance.

“Hello friend, good day to you.” Ezekiel put on his friendliest smile and waved at the guy. He watched, noticing the tightening of the guy’s muscles. Ezekiel follows the guy’s eye sight and remembers the blood on his robe. His friendly demeanor dissipates and his wolfish grin appears once again, his still bloody knife quickly finding its way back into his hand. The grip revitalized Ezekiel, the knife shimmering with the light that passed through the leafy canopy above.

“Hey Bitch, what’s his power?” He asked his system. He was excited, but he wasn’t going to be careless. It was foolish of him to have stepped out in the first place without first getting his system’s rating on this guy, but a defenseless back was too tasty to pass up. Especially if he could have gotten close enough, his Backstab ability would have allowed him to do massive damage before the boy could have reacted.

“Are you so dense? His power is only at one hundred and twenty-one points, but you’ll find a way to fuck it all up. You’re useless like that.” Ezekiel’s power was nearly reaching one hundred and seventy-five points with the use of his Stealth skill, Dagger Proficiency skill, and his Backstab ability.

“Friend, why don’t you do me a solid and…” Ezekiel began creeping forward. “Die for me!” He began moving forward quickly, slashing out with his dagger.

*

A blood covered boy walked out from the depths of the forest. His appearance put his age around sixteen or seventeen, but that meant nothing to Verrick. Everyone here had committed some crime. The grin on the boy’s face seemed to forced as he waved his hand and began talking to Verrick. Didn’t the boy realize that he was completely covered in blood?

“System, what information can you provide me?” Verrick quickly asked as the fake smile was wiped off the boy’s face. In its stead was a crazed, bloodthirsty grin that was borderline bestial. Verrick should’ve played along with the boy to buy more time.

“This individual’s power rating is one hundred and seventy two points. With your lack of skills and abilities, you will be hard pressed to win a direct confrontation. I would suggest using your durability to escape while you can. Recommendation: In the future, obtain armor, skills, and weapons to prevent such situations from occurring. As you currently are, you are simply fodder for the quest, Villainous Cannibal.” The male voice seemed awfully concerned for Verrick, going as far as giving him advice for the future.

“That doesn’t help me now.” He grit his teeth as the boy in front of him tensed up, the lean muscles coiling to strike. Verrick got low, arms out in front of him to protect his vital organs. His Health Points may be high, but the dagger in front of him concerned him. He would have to see how much damage it did in the first few attacks.

Verrick was weary, but ready for when the boy rushed forward with the dagger. It was rather short, but looked as if the blade had been sharpened recently. The dagger drew awfully close to his arms, but Verrick stepped back just barely out of reach. The boy quickly stabbed out again and Verrick dodged to the side, but the feeling of water and sharp rocks scratching at his feet distracted him. The boy’s follow-up slash sliced into Verrick’s forearm, blood spraying in an arc.

“Gah!” Verrick’s vision become red as he felt the pain that the boy had caused him. There was the feeling of bile in the back of his throat as the pain made him want to vomit, but he stomached it and focused on not dying. The boy smiled wickedly, laughing out raucously, and then licked the bloody dagger before once more advancing towards Verrick.

Verrick hadn’t ignored the system, but the warning it had given him had fallen on deaf ears. Verrick was never one to back down from a confrontation before, and he was confident that fifty points in the power level couldn’t be that hard to bridge with a little bit of wit. Verrick was taller than the boy, but the boy was far more agile. Verrick continued to take measured steps backwards, further into the river, until the water reached his waist. It was nearly to the boy’s belly button.

Verrick knew a levelheaded opponent would have never put themselves at such a disadvantage. With the boy’s shorter stature, the water affected his agility far more than it affected Verrick’s. The boy still hacked and slashed with the dagger, and most scraped against Verrick in some form or fashion, but there was little strength behind the strike and the boy was growing tired. He took far less damage in the last ten strikes than the first that had hit him. The grunts still came and went as he felt the blows, but he could at least bare this level of pain.

Verrick saw the look of hesitation in the boy’s eyes as the water had reached his chest, but Verrick had a challenging gaze and spoke four simple words. “Don’t be a pussy.” The boy’s reaction was more than satisfying as he leapt forward with all his might and plunged the dagger down towards Verrick’s heart. Verrick leaned forward, lodging the dagger into his left shoulder. His right hand reached out and grabbed the boy’s neck, his eye’s filling with fear as he felt Verrick’s strength grip him. Verrick grunted as he moved his other hand up to the boy’s neck. Verrick pressed down on the boy with all his weight until the boy’s head was underwater.

He could feel the thrashing, the struggling of the boy as he tried to save his life. The dagger, the only weapon the boy had, was still lodged in Verrick’s shoulder. He was helpless. The water began to enter his mouth, until it was a torrent. Suffocation, drowning him. The boy’s body tensed one final time before it was suddenly still. Verrick received an announcement from his system only seconds later.

“Update, Villainous Cannibal status: One out of one hundred.” The voice sounded excited, like Verrick had just done the impossible. “Current course of action recommendation: Recoup your injuries and finish the quest set for you by the townsmen.”