Rewind: A Grimdark LitRPG Series (Pyresouls Apocalypse, Book 1) James Callum (best large ereader .TXT) 📖

more armor-clad knights inching in from the alleys between the leaning buildings. There were already three moving out into the street behind the guy in front of him.

And he knew without turning around that they had cut off his escape so he didn’t bother showing his concern.

In truth, he didn’t have much of an option but to fight. He doubted there was any way he could talk himself out of this.

His attention back on the lone knight seemed to bolster the man’s confidence. “Joining the Vile Covenant was the best thing I ever did. Yes, you made quite the enemy when you betrayed them. They offered me power, more power with each follower I brought to their glorious cause.”

The man placed his palm over his armored breast and when he moved it away, a familiar - and hated - symbol appeared. A red hooked tentacle circumscribed by a black circle.

The symbol of the Vile Kingdom.

One by one, the men and women around him did the same. Each showing their allegiance.

“So you see,” the leader continued, every word dripped oily smugness. “Through the Vile Covenant’s magic, I was able to track you down. And not just track you down, but bring along those who have pledged their lives and souls to the Great Old One!”

He would defend himself and take down as many as he could. There was no way he would give them the satisfaction of surrendering. Jacob had heard of more than a few reports of particularly sadistic players extorting others.

Though this was something else. Something personal. He recognized the man, though he couldn’t bring his name to mind. The fact that he was part of the Vile Covenant made things harder on Jacob.

He didn’t realize the depths the Covenant might go to in order to exact their vengeance. He wasn’t sorry for what he did, never that. But he was beginning to see why the Fire Oppa hadn’t thought it was a good idea.

No good deed goes unpunished, Jacob thought with a wry grin hidden behind his visor.

If they were intent on extracting maximum suffering, they would do as many of the other extortionists in Pyresouls did. They would surround him, order him to take all of his equipment and items out, effectively robbing him of all his possessions or they would torture him to death.

The pain in Pyresouls was real, just like everything else was. And so, people were naturally afraid of it. On most people, it worked quite well.

Jacob spotted the white-hemmed robes of a Cleric doing his best to stay out of sight in an alley peeking out around a pile of boxes off to Jacob’s right.

As one of the rarest types, they were one of the few capable of inscribing a healing spell to a [Spell Gem]. Though the uses were limited, with somebody that could heal, a person could be brought to near-death several times.

He’d met enough of these bullies in his life, where the stakes were much higher. He knew how to deal with them. They preyed on weakness and expected it in everybody.

With so many obvious players arrayed against him, any normal player would be deeply nervous if not downright frightened. They couldn’t steal anything from him. No items would drop from his corpse except a fraction of his held Souls - which wasn’t much at that point.

It was a silver lining that he had already spent his Souls and did what he came to the Crossing to do. Not much of one, considering the odds were exceedingly high he was about to die very painfully.

At least they would get less than 100 Souls for the effort. He would lose time being sent back to his Pyre, but there was no getting around that. Once he returned, he would have to waste even more time to avoid the Crossing and head south into the Smog Rifts.

At least he would be free of these idiots who didn’t realize that by detaining him they were jeopardizing billions of lives. Worse, they were allying themselves with one of the most heinous enemies of humanity.

With a beleaguered sigh, he pointed the tip of his sword to the cobbles and rested it there gently, point-first. He set his palm atop the pommel and looked around himself, counting the number arrayed against him.

Thirteen players, really? That’s a little ridiculous.

“What do you want?” Jacob asked.

“I want you to pay for what you did to me!” he roared. The fact that Jacob didn’t understand what this was all about seemed to set him off. “Don’t pretend you don’t recognize me! You may have lowered your visor but you still wear the same equipment Jacob! Yes, I know your name.”

Of course he did. The game told you the name of the player who killed you unless the player was using a few specific items to hide their identity. Even though Jacob didn’t directly kill the man before him, the system clearly identified him as the instigator.

His name would have shown up alongside the skeletal abomination that did the actual deed just as if Jacob had set off a trap that killed him.

If the guy thought using Jacob’s name was going to elicit some sort of horrified or shocked reaction, he was sorely mistaken.

The whole thing was just so silly. Jacob’s shoulders shook with honest laughter and once he got going it only intensified. The man sputtered and raged as Jacob bent over double, laughing all the harder.

The damn irony of it all! I’m going to be killed by a whiny player who feels personally wronged while I’m trying to literally save his life and nearly ten billion more. It was too much for him to get mad at.

He was far enough ahead of Alec that he could still get through the Smog Rifts and Journey’s End before his friend did. But all the backtracking was going to cost him time he should spend farming Souls.

With a deep breath to steady the last chuckles that bubbled up from his belly, Jacob