Blood of Fate (World 99 Book #1): LitRPG Wuxia Series Page 4

  A few heartbeats later, Luca also started gasping greedily for air. He thrilled in every breath of the stuffy, moist gloom of the dungeon.

  Opening his eyes, the boy wondered at how clearly and brightly he now saw things. He actually felt overwhelmed with strength, lots of strength. He wanted to run, jump, do something. And the sensation of hunger was gone. Completely gone.

  Terant lay a few feet away. His skin looked completely black as if absorbing light, but the gleams from the droplets of sweat covering it made the man visible. A similar image appeared in Luca’s head along with the word ‘ke-har’... His father had fought people like Terant in the Arena. Apparently this was a ke-har.

  “Terant?”

  “Yes, boy. Feeling better?”

  “I’ve never felt so good in my life! How did you do that?”

  “Oh... Let me catch my breath...” Terant sat up and wiped his brow. It seemed to Luca as if the man was thinner. “What do you know about the world, sonny?”

  “Um... I didn’t go to school, but I know that we live in the capital of the Empire. Emperor Ma Ju Ro the Fourth rules the land.”

  “Hmm... Alright, let’s say that. Do you know who rules the world? Who the racants, khhars and olaks are?

  “I don’t know those words...” Luca thought a moment. “Wait, khhar, that’s it! Are you a khhar? My father fought a khhar, and he was like you!”

  “And do you know what lies beyond the Empire’s borders?”

  “Nothing. Just water, and beyond that is the edge of the world and the great nothing, where the streams of the world ocean cascade down. That’s what nana taught me.”

  “Son, the world is far larger than that. Do you know what percentages are?”

  “Parts of a whole. One percent means one part of a whole split into a hundred parts.”

  “Within your Empire lives less than one percent of all the people of the world.”

  “Horseshit!” Luca burst out. “Everyone knows that the Great Empire spans the entire world!”

  “The Great Empire, son, is a reservation,” Terant pronounced a word Luca didn’t know, but still understood. “Listen.”

  The kkhar coughed, cleared his throat and raising his forefinger, began to speak.

  “The first family was the Ra’Ta’Cant family. I’ll explain genetics to you later, but for now, remember: the First Family had perfect genes. Flawless. The benchmark for the human race. One-hundred percent perfect!”

  “They’re ideal?”

  “Oh yes, son! They’re ideal. Those that do not quite reach perfection, but strive toward it at all costs — they are the racants. There are very few of them, but they own everything. The racant families rule the entire world, but each has their own part. Each family is responsible to the First Family for its territory. They also divide segments of the economy between them...”

  “The economy?” This time Luca understood the word, but had time to ask before the understanding came.

  “Remember all the words you don’t understand, I’ll explain them later. There’s more to hear. Most people are olaks. Those are ordinary citizens, specialists in their fields: scientists, lawyers, craftspeople, merchants, servants... They are all united by the imperfection of their genes. They are at least ten percent away from the benchmark.”

  “And who are you? A khhar?”

  “Yes. Our species was created artificially. The army, combat and security organizations, guards and warriors, athletes and bodyguards — that’s us.”

  “Our guards don’t look like you at all.”

  “Your guards aren’t khhars. They, you and all the people of the Empire are syahrs.”

  “Syahrs?”

  “Forgive me, boy. That which I am about to say... it is not my words. I am merely quoting what has been repeated thousands of times.” Terant coughed again and spoke harshly, enunciating every word. “In all the world, you are the genetic pollutants. Outcasts. Pariahs. The recants maintain that all human life is sacred, but they do not allow the syahrs rights to any of the planet’s natural resources or the achievements if modern civilization. To avoid polluting humanity’s gene pool, the only place available to the syahrs is the so-called Empire.”

  “Why doesn’t the Empire just attack these racants of yours? Its strength and power...”

  “Son, all your strength and power are sticks and stones made out of shit. You have nothing. And you live on an island two thousand miles from the nearest civilization, across a treacherous ocean. You are condemned.”

  Luca fell silent for a long time, breaking down the old foundation of his world view and erecting a new one. He believed Terant unconditionally, intuitively, and the intuition he had inherited from Esk was sublime. He had only one question left to ask.

  “So how did you get here, Terant?”

  “Oh, did I not say? Criminals have no place in the glorious and blessed land of the racants.”

  Chapter 8. Prizes of the Wheel

  THE MEASURED BREATH of sleep had been emanating from Terant’s cot for a while, but Luca couldn’t sleep. Esk’Onegut’s legacy — the traveler’s knowledge and experience — hid in the dark alleyways of his consciousness and came to the fore only when he needed them, and only in tiny doses. Like with those new words the boy had heard from the khhar.

  That was why what Terant had told him had stunned Luca, and he’d been trying for quite some time to imagine a world without hungry and sick people. Self-moving carts, the gleaming skin of the racants of whom the khhar had described in vivid detail. All this seemed far less incredible than the absence of hunger and disease.

  “You syahrs live in a cesspool of humanity,” Terant had said. “And all the good things that the powerful and noble people have — it’s all just contraband garbage smuggled in from our trash heaps.”

  What a long day! Luca thought. And so much happened! This morning I was a paralyzed cripple dreaming of bread crusts. Then I died, resurrected and started walking! And now I’m in a cage with an alien khhar and I’ve learned more about the world than I ever knew! And in the morning I’m going to be tried for breaking Karim’s collar bone! Amazing!

  He didn’t bother worrying about what would happen after the trial. Whatever happened to him from then on, it couldn’t be worse than what he’d been through already.

  He tried to fall asleep again, tossing and turning, enjoying every movement of his newly healthy body. He felt a joyous amazement just at the ability to scratch himself by merely stretching out a hand.

  The young blood and energy transferred from Terant bubbled within him. Luca stood up and started pacing back and forth in the cell. He’d missed something, but what?

  The Wheel!

  As soon as he remembered the Wheel, some text appeared before him again and he heard it read out in his own voice in his head.

  Luca’Onegut, life one.

  Reminiscent. Successor to Esk’Onegut.

  Influence level: 0.

  Tsoui points: 1.

  One-time Wheel spin privilege activated.

  Use?

  Luca froze, reading it again and again. Then he confidently pressed ‘Yes.’

  This time, the Wheel looked different: maybe because he was in a dark prison cell, or maybe because it was the first time he’d spun it as a traveler. The huge wheel with its thousands upon thousands of sectors stretching into the starry sky had disappeared, replaced by a small one about the size of a tray.

  It appeared to hover in the air a few feet from the boy, and each of its segments was lit from within. Most of the Wheel was lit in pure lily-white, but there were also narrow multicolored segments. Luca couldn’t see a purple one among them, nor any red or gold segments. It was pure white almost everywhere, with hints of blue melding with the dominant color.

  He gained some understanding from Esk’s trove of knowledge: the Wheel’s leveled up with every use, increasing its abilities to change the traveler. At first this saddened Luca, but then he calmed down. At least there were no red sectors! In
one of his lives, Esk had gotten an incurable disease. He’d become patient zero of a pandemic that had destroyed a civilization. The infected became extremely aggressive, and could only be killed by destroying their brains, which was quite difficult in a world without ranged weapons. Such as were in Esk’s penultimate life, for example.

  Luca looked over his shoulder. Terant continued to sleep, his breath still as sedate as before. In spite of the Wheel’s light, the cell remained dark. The light existed only in the boy’s head. When he realized that, he calmed down, took a deep breath, and set the spin in motion.

  The starting green sector was replaced by a series of white, then a flash of pale blue, then it got too fast to tell them apart. The Wheel built up speed.

  Not exactly convenient, he thought. I can’t make anything out. If only I could make it bigger...

  The Wheel reacted sensitively, and its size multiplied by ten. Now Luca could make out colors other than white in the blur of sectors. Was that a flash of gold?

  The boy grew bored as he watched the monotony of melding sectors and heard only the thrum of the Wheel, as if a bumblebee had gotten into the cell and was beating against the walls in search of freedom, but just as it seemed that both the bee and Luca himself would languish together forever in the dark of the cell, the spinning began to slow.

  Passing over a range of white sectors, one deep blue sector and a couple of blueish ones — all talents of various power — the indicator stopped.

  Luca stared at the thin sector gleaming in gold. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Text appeared in front of his eyes and made him believe, but it was far from what he was expecting.

  One-time Wheel spin token used.

  Spin result: gold sector.

  Reward:

  Luca’Onegut receives the superpower (applied to current body and world of existence): Metamorphosis.

  Metamorphosis? Luca Dezisimu had hoped that he’d get a talent for some rare profession, some skill that could help him pay his way in the Empire, but this?

  At the same time, Luca’Onegut rubbed his hands in glee. He remembered some kind of association from his earthly life — a piano? A music box? It didn’t matter.

  Esk had never managed to get this superpower, but he’d seen it in action. The ability to control all the processes in his body with the power of thought; just like beauty, this was a terrifying power! He’d known one clawed traveler that had covered his skeleton, all his bones, in a rare alloy...

  Metamorphosis

  Ability level one.

  This ability allows you to control your body on a basic level: temperature, energy expenditure, immune system, metabolic activity, rapid healing, tissue and organ regeneration, sharpened senses.

  Impulsively, Luca closed his hand into a fist and struck the stone cell wall. Inwardly recoiling in expectation of the coming pain, he willed his fist to become stronger than stone. Iron was stronger than stone!

  Transformation impossible. Not enough iron in body!

  The dull thud of the little fist on the stone turned into an agonizing wail, which woke up Terant.

  Chapter 9. The Justice of Judge Cannon

  HIS BROKEN and bleeding fist healed before the night was over. Luca didn’t know when exactly it happened. Terant, now awake, was just like the boy’s father; fierce in the Arena and gentle in the home. He stroked Luca’s head.

  “I can’t promise that everything will be fine, but I know one thing for certain: even after the darkest night, dawn always comes. Sleep, little one, and think not of what tomorrow will bring. Sleep.”

  The khhar knew nothing of the Wheel, of travelers or the reward that the boy was trying to test out. With his own interpretation of events, he just tried to console the boy.

  Luca lay down and fell to sleep at once. Then, when he woke up, he tried to pull together all the fragments and multitude recollections from the previous day.

  “How are you, little one? I’d wish you a good morning, but... I don’t think they do breakfast here,” Terant said. “And rightfully so, I guess. Why feed those that will belong to a new master before the day’s end?”

  Luca rubbed his eyes, yawned, stretched and shrugged his shoulders. He’d been happy to eat even just once a day. And nobody was obliged to feed him. But why not dream? Any moment now, he’d hear the footsteps of a guard approaching the cell door, and he’d throw some stale bread crusts through the bars! That would be a great start to the new day!

  “Two-horns!” Terant exclaimed. “Just look at that! I almost pulled it taught without noticing!”

  Only now did the boy see that one of the khhar’s legs was bound not to a chain, but to a very fine, thin thread, a colorless line. It was hard to see it, but once he saw it, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It flashed with reflected light in the most bewitching way. As if the line was catching beams of sunlight and absorbing them.

  “Do you know what this is?” the khhar asked.

  Luca shook his head.

  “It’s a tether. Tethers like this are one of the few things that the racants agree to share with your emperor. They are stronger than an iron chain and lighter than a washing line! They are a creation of Two-horns made flesh. They bind themselves to the prisoner’s nervous system. Anyone insane enough to try to pull it out loses their entire nervous system with it. Death comes before they can even scream.”

  They heard a guard’s footsteps and the clatter of keys. Luca perked up: maybe they were bringing food?

  “Luca Dezisimu, approach the cell door! Now!”

  The boy turned to Terant in confusion.

  “Be strong,” the khhar nodded farewell to him. “Remember what your father said.”

  As the guard spurred him on, Luca walked back along the same path he’d walked the previous night, when he’d been brought in, but when they came to the stairs, the guard took him down another corridor, not to the prison exit. All the cells they saw on the way were packed full of people. People lame, crooked of limb, monstrous, covered in wounds and scabs. The prisoners fit in perfectly with Terant’s story of the Empire’s genetic pollution. Luca looked at the guard’s face and noticed that even he had such defects; a low forehead, a cataract on one eye...

  “What’re you starin’ at?” the guard barked and clouted the boy around the head. “Come on, scum, move it!”

  His crooked blackened teeth, which had always seemed an ordinary and normal occurrence in Luca’s world, suddenly no longer looked normal. Esk’s legacy was making itself known again, from an unexpected direction.

  What a monster! the boy thought, but tried to start a conversation all the same.

  “What will happen to him?” he asked.

  “Who?”

  “The khhar I was with.”

  “The black boy? He’ll be punished or bought to fight in the Arena.”

  “Who will buy him?”

  “Enough chatter, boy! Forget your loverboy!”

  The guard gave him a swift kick and Luca increased his pace to stay upright, rubbing his fresh bruise. Some text appeared in front of him telling him he’d taken damage and that his soft tissue was regenerating. A heartbeat later, the pain disappeared.

  They finally reached the other wing and climbed some stairs to a street. The broad closed yard of the prison was full of spectators, gawpers and relatives of those awaiting judgment.

  Judge Cannon — a gnarled old man barely holding off the desire to fall asleep right at the table — mumbled something. The aide standing next to him made a loud declaration.

  “In the name of the emperor! The life of Rakhim Darishta is declared the property of the Empire from now until the end of his days. The slave Darishta has been sentenced to stone for his numerous sins against the people of the Empire in the Oltonius Mines!”

  The convict, with tethers at his arms and legs, cried out.

  “That judge is a sell-out rat! Suck my-”

  A dogpile instantly formed where Darishta had stood objecting to his sentence. The guards enthusiasti
cally beat the dissident until he stopped making any sounds at all. Then two of the largest guards grabbed the body by the legs and carried it out of the yard.

  The judge looked at his notes and either whispered something again or just yawned. Either way, the aide stood up straight and gave a signal. Luca’s escort kicked him in the back, shoving him into the center of the yard. Luca opened his mouth to say something in his defense, but nobody even bothered to ask him — Cannon had already decided the matter.

  “The boy Luca Dezisimu, who stands accused of causing bodily injury to one Karim Kovachar, is sentenced to pay a fine of fifteen gold pieces! Seven of them will go directly to Mister Kovachar, seven to the Empire, while the last gold piece will pay for legal fees!” the aide’s voice rang out. “Accused! Are you or any of your family capable of paying this fine here, now and in full?”