Legends of Tarthirious: The Complete Collection

  Legends of Tarthirious

  The Complete Collection

  A LitRPG

  by

  Zachariah Dracoulis

  Legends of Tarthirious

  Book One of Kylia’s Story

  A LitRPG

  by

  Zachariah Dracoulis

  For Gaige,

  Your journey has just begun.

  Prologue

  “Time of death, 8:41 PM.”

  Those words echoed in my ears for the next two weeks while I arranged funerals and signed on the responsibility for my parent’s debt and accounts.

  My younger brother made the decision that he was going to help me, his ‘strong and capable’ big sister, in any way he could. To him, this meant going to join the British Armed Forces as an engineer so he could help me to settle their debt, allowing us to return to whittling down our own.

  He died in basic less than a month later, wiring malfunction in an air-conditioning unit. Apparently it was his fault and there was no proof that it wasn’t, the military isn’t known for taking responsibility anymore, so they covered the cost of his funeral and that was it. Once again, I was made to sign on the responsibility for more debt and another account. They didn’t even give him a real headstone.

  By the time I turned twenty I was left on my own with nothing but an empty house, a £390,000 debt that I had just over two years to pay, and three unmanageable accounts to remember my family by.

  If it weren’t for the game, Legends of Tarthirious, I’m sure I’d have lost my mind, and I definitely would have starved.

  For most of the first month of 2033 I sat in my room and stared at the three USB account keys as they dangled from the corner of my rig by their chains. I felt that if I were to plug them in I would be trapping their spirits, and that they would not be able to rest while their avatars continued to roam the world of Tarthirious.

  It wasn’t until the first set of bills came that I realised I couldn’t live in that house anymore.

  By no means was it easy, but I eventually sold the house for £250,000 and used the money to buy a flat in London, along with four beastly rigs and cooling systems that would allow them to run Tarthirious continuously for a week at a time.

  It was a few days after I moved in before I finally stepped foot into the ‘Rig Room’, as I like to call it, and then it was another hour before I booted up the game and activated my families’ accounts.

  Initially I tried doing simultaneous questing on all four of the accounts, as we always had, but that proved impossible. Sure, PvP combat was easy enough what with the turn-based system, but anything other than that required too much movement.

  Then I had the idea to use the other three as miners, a boring task that essentially required you to click on the vein and wait, and myself as the questing and demonic fighter in the Arena.

  That’s when things really started to work out for me.

  All of a sudden I had three characters that were basically just animations which were levelling up and getting more resources quicker. At the end of the week, or if there were a particular demand at any point, I could convert them into saleable resources, or sell them as their base item, that I could then turn into honest to God money.

  That’s why we played the game.

  In the year 2024, a 23-year-old man from Wales named Frankie Lithfield created Legends of Tarthirious after being subject to one of the most successful crowd-funding projects ever. Six months passed by and he was the sole developer on the best-selling MMORPG of all time.

  At the same time as all that was happening, Great Britain was suffering a massive financial crisis and was on the verge of collapse. Some blamed the States, some blamed Brexit, some blamed illegal immigrants, some simply blamed the entirety of Islam, but one thing everyone agreed on was that something had to give.

  I was 11 when Frankie Lithfield came to Britain to propose a plan, and a year later it was put into action. It was New Year’s Eve 2025 when Lithfield funded a coup and, with the help of the British Armed Forces and a few high-ranking officials, was able to become the head of a new government. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but what I did know was that my mother and father were terrified.

  We’d all lost our citizenship and there was nothing we could do about it. In order to help repair the national debt and restore Britain’s place as one of the heads of the modern world it had integrated Legends of Tarthirious’ currency into the real world because, as sad as it was, it was stronger than the pound.

  There were no riots.

  There was no uproar.

  People simply stayed in their homes and waited for more news.

  On New Year’s Day the world changed. The pound had risen tremendously in value overnight with the backing of the game’s virtual currency, and we were given the news we were waiting for: we could stay in Britain.

  The new scheme stipulated that all of those living in Britain would have their citizenship reinstated on the day that they and their family had paid their fair share of the national debt. Like reverse Communism. This seemed fair enough, until they told us the other part.

  We had ten years.

  That meant we had to pay ‘our share’ of the national debt on top of mortgages, loans, education fees, and all the rest of day-to-day expenses, or we would be deported.

  At first we expected the military to turn on them, the soldiers had families after all, but when they were told they and their families’ were immune from deportation as long as they served the countries best interests the people knew there was no point in fighting back.

  “While the rest of the world pays for subscription time, we will be able to earn money in the game,” the newly appointed Prime Minister announced, “every person over the age of 10 will be given a USB on a chain. These will be your characters that you will be able to use to collect resources and complete quests that will gain you in game currency to which you can convert into real pounds. This will be a trying time for our great nation, but we will come out stronger than ever before.”

  Did I mention that he continued to be the Prime Minister? He was granted automatic citizenship alongside the Royal Family, including a royal corgi, Frankie Lithfield, the director for Renewable Energy, and the Prime Minister of Canada.

  Who lives in Canada.

  And never comes to Britain.

  His citizenship is a very contentious issue amongst the British people.

  So far there has only been one person to become debt free, and all that we were allowed to know was that he was male, which brought about talk of sexism. That was swiftly shot down though as it became clear that most men weren’t becoming citizens any sooner than anyone else.

  The system hasn’t been all bad though. Pollution went down as solar panels, hydroelectric plants, and wind farms went up. People stopped driving their cars, either using the new national subway system or simply walking or biking to and from work, and the healthcare system got even better.

  But there was one thing that a lot of people got excited about, and that was that every single bachelors program became a six-month high-intensity course, followed by a six months’ mandatory workplace training or paid internship in their field.

  I was able to get my Bachelor of Advertising and Design this way, and then immediately get placed in a career where I sat at a desk all day and occasionally wrote something down or created an advertisement for Legends of Tarthirious. Most placements ended up helping Tarthirious further expand in the new Britain, and no one saw that as a downside.

  As a result of the massive education overhaul unemployment went down exponentially, but there were
still those in unfortunate circumstances. Like families in impoverished areas, and there were some who simply ended up having to work several jobs to keep food on the table and didn’t have time to log hours into the game.

  Those families tended to sell off most of their characters, which was completely legal, and turned over a quick profit, but before long the funds would run dry and people would get stuck with the one character.

  To put that in perspective, with me running four characters I was still sitting just below middle class. They were getting by in the new world though, mostly because the community tended to watch out for them.

  People would hear about such-and-such’s neighbours losing their jobs on the Tarthirious’ forums and would funnel gold into their accounts overnight. It was little things like that that made us forget that we were technically not citizens in our own country.

  In fact, it wasn’t until halfway through 2035 that people started to really panic, myself included, but it wasn’t in a ‘let’s attack parliament’ way, no, it was more of a ‘time to get our heads down and really start grinding’ way. You know, the British way.

  I’d crunched the numbers and found that even with all three of my level 100 miners collecting diamond I wasn’t going to be able to pay off my debt. I could have literally worked my job every day of the week and played my character in the hardest quests possible simultaneously and I still would’ve fallen short.

  I was about ready to give up, just take the ropeway express or easier still, pick a fight with a soldier, but then my boss announced the end of financial year bonus. It was something better than money, or a house, or just about anything else at the time. It was a new character and a level 100 boost token valued at roughly £25,000 or, in my case, a real chance at hitting the mark well before the New Year.

  Five advertisements would be chosen from the entire team, the five designers who made them would then compete in an in-game scavenger hunt to determine the final two.

  Those two would fight to the death.

  I was one of those two.

  My name is Kylia Redmond, player of Daemion the Dread, the scourge of Tarthirious, burner of the Sacred Plains of Tythial, and number six champion of the Arena.

  This is my story.

  Kylia: Chapter 1

  I yanked off my headphones and shot up, “Oi! Quit spamming Oak-Flesh!” I barked over the two desks my colleagues had pushed together for the battle. It was hard to see him in the dark, but the blue glow from his monitor cast his shadow on the crowd behind him.

  Gerald leant over in his chair and looked at me with angered disbelief wrapping around his well-kept goatee, “It’s your bloody fault that I have to, innit? You’re the one who keeps using Laithar’s Rage! Everyone knows it’s OP as fuck.”

  “It was,” I countered, “but then they nerfed it to shit. It’s not like I’m pulling damage buffs outta nowhere, it feeds off my health.”

  “She’s right,” a voice from the crowd behind me said, “she’s gone full-blown glass cannon.”

  “See!? He’s not even playing and he knows you’re being an idiot.”

  Gerald went to say something, but someone from his own crowd had started getting restless, “Would you both shut up and just play the game! Sit down and have your bloody turn!”

  I wanted to defend my honour, but I got where the guy was coming from, the match was fast nearing its fifth hour and it was still anyone’s game. So, with a huff, I swallowed my ego, sat down, pulled on my headphones and got stuck back into it.

  Daemion: Chapter 1

  I never felt more alive than I did in the Arena, looking around at the crowds from far and wide cheering my name over and over. “Dae-mi-on! Dae-mi-on!” they chanted while I stared at my foe, flames engulfing my eight-foot tall daemonic form as Laithar’s Rage did its work, but little did they know, I was terrified.

  I flexed my fingers around the hilt of my daemonic great sword as I checked my HP, which read 150/25000. If Grand Gerry the Good would just start hitting me I’d be gone in less than three turns.

  I looked over at his HP which hovered between his head and his title, and was shocked to see that he only had 85/20000. It wasn’t that that had me concerned though, the +5000 Oak Flesh buff that came before the HP was the problem.

  As I stared at the mage covered in conjured hardwood I felt like I’d lost the match, all he had to do was get his buff up another 3000 and I’d be done for. A few quick fireballs or even a single charged attack would destroy me.

  That’s when it hit me, the cocky prick was probably going to keep relying on his dumb spell regardless of what I did.

  In what was considered a bold move by the audience, I dropped to my knee, driving my sword into the ground in the process, and began channelling a spell. I was completely defenceless, and that’s how I ended my turn.

  Daemion the Dread has entered Channelling State for unknown spell.

  Turn ended.

  “Hah! Like I’m going to fall that!” the tree-like battlemage laughed from across the Arena. “I charge you, you counter, I take the damage. Nice try though.” he said before absorbing more green energy from the ground, clapping his hands across his chest, and then spreading his arms out wide. A second later he became wrapped in even more wood that made him feel safe.

  Grand Gerry the Good cast Oak Flesh.

  +1000 Conjured Protection.

  Turn ended.

  I ignored the taunts and continued to bide my time, hoping that my stoicism would appear as a bluff.

  Daemion the Dread remains in Channelling State for unknown spell.

  Turn ended.

  “I’m serious, I’m not biting.” Gerry said in an obviously concerned voice, before recasting his spell.

  Grand Gerry the Good cast Oak Flesh.

  +1000 Conjured Protection.

  Turn ended.

  I had him, and I knew it. There was nothing he could do against what was coming.

  Daemion the Dread has completed Channelling State for unknown spell.

  Turn ended.

  That’s when Gerry made a sound like he knew exactly what was going on, “I know what you’re doing. Here. We. Go.” The mage went into a parry stance, standing sideways with one of his wood clad palms above his head, and the other in front of him pointed at me.

  Grand Gerry the Good has entered an Unarmed Combative Parry stance.

  Turn ended.

  “You bellend.” I said with a smile, before pulling my sword out of the ground and running at him, my sword dragging in the dirt and sand behind me.

  I waited until I got within a few metres of the tree-man and leapt into the air. I lifted my sword over my head, brought it down, and, as expected, watched as Gerry caught the blade. I like to imagine that I heard a faint “Meep” when Gerry realised that the blade was never going to slice him down the middle.

  Instead, with the power of Hel coursing through me and my blade, a brilliant beam of mystical fire and harrowing screams ripped out from the end of my sword, tearing a hole clean through the mage’s chest.

  He stood there for a long while holding the blade, his suit of oak hiding the blood that was undoubtedly pouring out of his mouth, and then he fell unceremoniously to the ground.

  Daemion the Dread cast Hellish Smite.

  2250 points of damage inflicted.

  Grand Gerry the Good has fallen.

  Congratulations Daemion the Dread, you have won COMMUNITY EVENT: EOFY CHALLENGE KYLIA VERSUS GERALD.

  Max Level Reached.

  No Experience Points awarded.

  Match over.

  Kylia: Chapter 2

  “What the Hell!? I had Oak Flesh!” Gerald yelled over the cheers from my side of the office as the long fluorescent bulbs flickered to life.

  I stood up with a big stupid grin on my face, everyone around me clapping me on the back and shaking me with excitement, “Hellish Smite ignores conjured armours, shields, and, of course, Oak Flesh.”

  “That’s bullshit! I call bull
shit! Phil!? Phillip! There you are!” he shouted as our boss pushed past the crowd to get to me, “She can’t do that, right? We need a rematch.”

  Phillip shook his head, “Nope, rules were set before the match Gerald.” he said in the firm but fair, if slightly annoyed, voice that had become his standard when talking to Gerald.

  Phillip was a cool guy, and a great boss. His hair was often tied back in a really nice ponytail, his beard always braided in a new way, and he wore a different combination of canvas shoes, button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders, and chinos nearly every day. Today he’d gone for a very earthy brown look all over which gave off this sort of calming effect.

  That may have been because he looked like a cup of coffee and I had a problem, but so what? Everyone has their vice.

  To be perfectly honest, if I weren’t on the girl side of my swing I’d have asked him out. Not just because he had that retro hipster look that I really liked either, he was also really nice, but not to the point that he couldn’t do his job. If you messed up, he’d tell you how to fix it, and not just go with the flow or threaten to report you to the MP’s for workplace non-compliance.

  “Congrats Kylia,” he said, pulling the USB chain out of his pocket and dropping it into my waiting hand, “you earned this.”

  I didn’t know what to say, mostly because I’m, the kind of person to wish people a happy birthday when they say it to me, so I just stood there and smiled.

  “Oh! And this,” he said as he grabbed out a token that was roughly the size of a two pound coin, “what are you going to do with it?”

  I caught it after he flipped it at me and started looking it over. It weighed a little more than the coin that it resembled, and was jet-black with the number 100 printed on it in white so that no one mistakenly gave one out. I let out an almost silent breath of relief when I discover the seal that made the top of the token was unblemished and had never been opened.