Sleeping Player (Project Chrysalis Book 3) John Gold (simple e reader TXT) 📖

the mental damage from the palirin disappeared, the monsters flooded back into the abandoned city, so the old master and his brother had to fight their way back.

The first trials were set for the next day, when everyone involved in the experiment had gotten a good night’s sleep. But that night, Isaac found out something new: he could just go to sleep until any moment or date he set.

Isaac needed to be put on like any other suit of armor. But the process for that was a bit different, as the owner just needed his permission to be enclosed in him.

A week later, they noticed that the armor expanded or shrank depending on who was wearing it. The higher the mastery of the wearer, the more complex the details became and the more comfortable it was. When he switched to a new wearer, Isaac change to fit that person. He slowly morphed into his original form when he went for a while without anyone wearing him.

Only people who could be trusted not to divulge Habald’s secret were permitted to take part in the trials. His closest friends and family were asked to try their hand at using the world’s best armor, though they were all poor warriors. The problem wasn’t their level or how advanced their skills were; the armor only responded to warrior mastery.

A month later, Isaac fell into apathy again, spending days sleeping in the blacksmith’s basement. Habald couldn’t wear him, afraid of his own creation, and he couldn’t tell anyone else. Isaac finally decided he didn’t really care what the old master thought, figuring there were no two ways around it.

I’m looking for a master warrior, I want a master fighter, I pray for a master warrior, I want my own master. Isaac started to realize that he was looking for a worthy master, someone who could unlock his full potential. He traveled the city, watching battles, duels, and training, in his search.

His legs carried him to the warriors’ training center on their own, and he sat there for two days in a quiet corner on a roof of the stable. From that vantage point, he could see the whole base. Then, the crazy girl showed up to sit next to him, almost as though she’d been there all along.

“I heard there is a weapon here who is looking for a worthy owner.”

Isaac couldn’t say anything.

“Battle mastery.”

The armor turned its helmet and looked the girl over from head to toe. She had strange red hair, a longsword on her back, and was wearing the same plain clothing everyone else in the city wore. The only thing that stood out about her was her sword. It was incredible, the work of a true master. But the girl didn’t look like a warrior, a barbarian, or a paladin. Her musculature was developed evenly, she moved lightly, and she looked to be high-level.

Isaac pointed at the training grounds, and the girl understood exactly what he was trying to tell her.

By the end of the day, not a single unbeaten warrior remained. The lonely, non-level armor had found itself a worthy owner, and it didn’t even return to say goodbye to the old master at the smithy.

Femida was a wizard with a sword, capable of beating anyone even without a class. Day after day, she honed her skill without relying on Isaac. Tens, hundreds, thousands of hours of training went by. Isaac loved the process even more than Femida did.

Get faster, stronger, tougher, better, my dear. Isaac started to notice that he was enjoying discoveries he only participated in tangentially more and more. His normal senses were much weaker, so he lived vicariously through Femida as she pushed toward her goal.

All Isaac cared about was that it be fun. And Femida turned out to be the most interesting person he’d ever met—she was incredibly intelligent, her experience in battle was unparalleled, her life was lived at a maniacal pace, and she had fantastic analytical abilities to boot.

Femida got settled in prison, hiding behind Isaac’s name. She was considered an accomplice in some crime and hunted around the world, though that was just the icing on the cake for Isaac. He was watching the world’s most interesting movie. The whole thing tickled him pink—he may have been crazy, but he was reveling in it.

For five long years, Femida worked guarding the idiotic doll who ran the meetings. How Isaac wore on the nerves of his mistress as he told her exactly what he thought of the bait. Sometimes, it would get so bad that she’d turn off the chat and ban him for days at a time. But  Isaac never argued with her, figuring he wouldn’t be able to find anyone better.

He saw thousands of players over the years who would never dream of touching Femida’s mastery. For the first couple of years, he thwarted eighty attempts on the bait doll’s life. He saw Femida building her fighting style and mastery still further, saw his own body change as he picked up new details and became more complex. He could see how patiently she was awaiting the end of her sentence. But she was waiting for something else, too, and that something happened right in the middle of one of the meetings.

The nondescript young man walked into the room, though just a glance at him was enough to fill Isaac with worry. If his body had been living, his hair would’ve stood on end, his teeth would have chattered, and his legs would’ve shaken.

He’s like me!

That thought was like a bucket of cold water being dumped on his head.

Isaac looked at the kid almost like he was seeing his own reflection for the first time, while the kid looked at…Femida. Isaac could see his glance flitting back and forth between the fake Femida and the suit of armor. Surprise,