DLC: A LitRPG Adventure (Beta Tester Book 4) Read online

  Then, though, he remembered Timothy C. on Marley Way, and the family room that had been littered with toys. He remembered all the gifts Arath had burned. And his heart sank a little. Timothy C: Tim Cratchit. Tiny Tim.

  For a long, uncomfortable moment, Jack had the feeling things had progressed well beyond a lark. He had the idea that he might be one of the bad guys.

  Then, though, he brushed it aside with a shake of his head. This was just a videogame after all. The kid wasn’t real. His presents weren’t real. Consequently, none of this counted.

  Krampus went on praising him, and he went on telling himself all was indeed well. Then the Christmas demon beamed again. “Because of your extraordinary work, I have decided to gift you something equally as extraordinary, as a show of my appreciation.” He clapped his hands again, this time as a summons; and a little demon who had been keeping a respectful distance away went running off.

  A minute later, he reappeared, leading a horrid black serpent. It looked like one of the wretched creatures who flew Krampus’s sleighs, but miniaturized.

  “Here he is,” Krampus said. “Dearest Beelzebub, the youngest member of my stables. He’s the child of Lilith, who flew with you last night, and Belial, who flies my day sleigh. He will grow to be a fierce and terrible sky serpent. And for your mighty feats, I give him to you, Jack.”

  Jack wasn’t thrilled about that. He was about to protest that Krampus was far too kind, but he couldn’t possibly accept, when the game alerted him,

  Pet added to your party: Beelzebub

  Well shit, he thought. Aloud, though, he said, “Oh, uh, thank you. Are you sure – well, I don’t think I could accept –”

  But Krampus interrupted to assure him that Jack had done what no other in all these long years but he himself had done. “You brought true terror and despair to the Vale, Jack. And for that, you have earned a truly magnificent reward.

  “Now tell me, are you ready to do me another service, or would you prefer to rest?”

  Two options presented themselves to him.

  I can’t sleep. Not with the taste of victory sweet on my lips.

  And,

  Indeed, wicked work is hard work. I should catch some shuteye.

  Jack opted for the first choice. He was tired, but he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. So the sooner he finished Krampus’s chore chart, the sooner he’d get the hell off the island.

  Krampus cackled. “You’re insatiable. I love it. You should get a real thrill out of this one, then.

  “I need you, my dear Jack, to go hunting.”

  Jack stared at him. “Hunting?” He wasn’t opposed to it, of course. It just seemed too…well, easy.

  Krampus cracked a wicked grin. “Indeed. Hunting reindeer. The magical vermin that flew Winter’s sleigh, in point of fact. Find them, kill them, and bring me their heads.”

  The demons all around them broke into cheers at that, and a few of them belted out a rather morbid chorus.

  Deck the halls with limbs of reindeer,

  Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

  ‘Tis the season to despair,

  Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

  Cut a little here, slice some over there

  Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

  Make a feast, cook them rare

  Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

  Krampus shook his head with benevolent, almost paternal affection. “So brutish, aren’t they? But who can blame them? We’ve been waiting on this day for a long time, Jack. And now, thanks to you, it will finally happen.

  “First Winter, dead. Now, his sky rats will follow. We will feast on their flesh, and drink mead from their skulls.”

  Such a wonderful treat awaits us

  Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

  Strike the neck and sever the spine.

  Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

  Jack got back onto the sleigh, feeling a little worse than he had earlier. Partly, that was due to being saddled with Migli. Arath had declared that however Jack felt about braving the wilds of the Vale, he needed mead and company.

  As for Jack’s other companions, none of them would go with him. On the contrary, the game informed him that he’d lost good will with all of them – even Karag.

  Jack felt a little out of sorts about that. It was one thing for a goody two-shoes like Ceinwen or Er’c to get mad at him for killing magical reindeer. But an actual assassin? That was too much.

  But, think what he liked about the other man’s hypocrisy, Migli was his only option; so Migli it had to be. That was one point of discomfort.

  Another unsettling aspect of his situation was the little demon snake, Beelzebub. It looked darker than night itself. Jack felt like he was staring into a great, endless nothingness when he peered at the tiny demon. Even worse, it would slither up his leg, or around his legs, like a cat might rub up against you. And when he ignored it, it hissed in displeasure.

  Jack told himself that was the extent of his annoyance. But that was a lie. As much as he wanted to ignore it, a tiny voice in the back of his head told him he was a bastard for killing Santa’s reindeer, and picking on disabled kids, and torturing the crazy old mayor. He was a bastard for rewarding miserable, black hearted knaves like Old Eben. He was a bastard for siding with Krampus.

  But he determined not to listen to that part of his brain, and he focused on the task at hand instead.

  Krampus had told him the reindeer were last spotted by the Vale. “You should go and talk to the locals. They should be able to tell you where to find the vermin.”

  He’d also warned him against setting down in the middle of town. “In the midst of day, not even that sleigh will be invisible. And if the locals see you arrive in my sky chariot…” He belted out a laugh. “Well, they won’t take kindly to that.”

  So Jack flew over the town, past all the houses all lit up with strings of Christmas lights; past the chimneys, puffing out smoke; and past the neat, orderly little cobblestone streets. The serpents set down not far from the sign welcoming travelers to Pleasant Vale.

  Except, now it didn’t. Someone had scribbled – in a red that looked suspiciously like blood – an “un” before the greeting. Now, the sign welcomed visitors to Unpleasant Vale.

  “I see Krampus has been busy,” Migli said.

  Jack nodded, grimacing a little. “I guess.”

  They walked on, past the sign and down the main road. Migli started to sing.

  T’was the day of winter feast, and all through the town

  Everyone was despairing, even the mice

  The stockings that had been hung so nice

  Now lay scattered and thrown all around.

  While the townsfolk had slept, cozy in their beds

  A demon danced wickedly through their heads

  And his minion, so clever and wicked, crept about

  Smashing and burning and wrecking like a lout.

  Jack’s frown deepened. “Wait a minute…is that a song about…me?”

  “Is it?” the dwarf asked with an air of innocence. “I’m sure it’s not. ‘Any resemblance to persons or places living or dead,’ and all that.”

  He might have made a further remark, had not a short, stout man come barreling out of a shop, very nearly plowing into them in the process. “Oh, I do beg your pardon,” he said, bobbing a little frantically. “But I’m late. Our Christmas goose has got away, and this shop is sold out. I mustn’t dally, or Christmas will be ruined.”

  He ran off, bobbing again. “Your handiwork, I presume?” Migli asked.

  “Maybe,” Jack admitted.

  Migli laughed, weaving the frantic little man’s plight into his song. As the dwarf sang about a waistcoat put on backwards and a hat upside down – taking only small liberties with the truth – Jack glanced around the town.

  There was chaos everywhere. That was clear. People ran here and there like their hair had caught fire, and angry shouting and plaintive cries fill
ed the air. Gone was the holiday music. Even the oppressive smell of peppermint and chocolate had diminished to some extent.

  He caught the eye of a man sweeping up candy glass from what had once been his front windows. “Excuse me. What’s going on?”

  “Didn’t you hear, lad? Krampus, the demon – he’s been visiting terrible dreams on people. And someone – we reckon it was him, though we don’t know how he got through our enchantments. But someone froze up the mayor’s place. The whole house, they turned it into a block of ice.”

  Jack remembered Krampus alluding to that. He still had no idea how he’d possibly done any such thing, so he asked, “Really? How’d they do that?”

  “The mayor has a larder for his meats. He stores Winter’s own ice there.”

  Jack stared blankly at the other man, who in turn regarded him as if the connection was obvious. “Winter’s own ice?” he asked after a long moment.

  “You know, magical ice: it never melts, and must be contained in a chest or a closed room, because it will freeze anything it can reach otherwise. The demon opened the pantry, and by morning the whole place was a block of ice.

  “Poor Klaus barely got out, and Cristobal.”

  Jack gulped. “Oh. Well, that’s, uh, not very good. No one was hurt – or killed – I hope?”

  “No. But they all had the fright of their lives.”

  Jack nodded, relieved. You could survive the fright of your life. Freezing to death was a little trickier. “That’s good, at least.”

  “And then all the homes were broken into, vandalized or robbed. Everyone is cleaning up messes. The whole thing – it’s a disaster. The holiday has been ruined.”

  “Oh. Well…that’s rough.”

  The other man nodded grimly, and decided he needed to get back to work. “It was good talking to you, stranger. May you have a merrier Christmas than we.”

  Jack walked on, with Migli singing about his wicked exploits. He knew he should be inquiring about the missing reindeer. But some part of him hesitated.

  And then, all at once, he felt something cold and slimy slither up his leg. He yelped and jumped several feet in the air, over Migli’s head – thanks to the videogame physics of his world.

  Glancing down, he saw the source of his discomfort: Beelzebub. The little monster apparently felt neglected – and, not without reason, as Jack had made a concerted effort to ignore its existence. So it had slithered up his ankle, hissing plaintively.

  That was too much for him. He could live with working for Krampus. He could live with destroying Pleasant Vale, and even killing Dasher or Comet or whoever he was coming here to murder.

  But he couldn’t live with a pet demon snake. So he said, “Speak to supervisor.”

  A moment later, the game froze. Then Migli spun around, a broad smile on his face. “Jack, there you are. Richard told me…”

  Jordan – because that’s who it was – trailed off. “Wait. What’s going on? Is that…Beelzebub?”

  Jack nodded, impressed by how quickly she’d grasped his problem. “Yes. And I need to figure out a way to get rid of him.”

  “Well crap. That must be a bug. You shouldn’t have him.”

  He nodded, relieved by the news. He didn’t want to be saddled with the creepy little thing. “Can you get rid of it?”

  “Uh…probably. But how did you find him? What’s going on?” She – the Migli avatar – frowned. “And what’s going on in Pleasant Vale?”

  He laughed, a little sheepishly glancing at the busted windows and toppled trees, the scolding mothers and glowering fathers. “Oh, that? Probably because of the Krampus quest.”

  Jordan blinked, then stared at him. “Wait…you didn’t…join Krampus?”

  He laughed at her astonishment. “Well sure. I figured that’d be fun.”

  “Jack…you’re working with Krampus?”

  Something about her tone made him feel a little defensive about his choices. “I mean, it’s just a videogame, Jordan. It’s not like Krampus is real…”

  He tried to sound smug, like she was being absurd. He couldn’t tell based on her expression if he’d succeeded or not. “Then…it’s not a bug. You didn’t find Beelzebub? Krampus gave him to you?”

  “Well…yeah. But I want to get rid of him. He’s creepy.”

  “You can’t. He’s the reward for following Krampus’s path. And not just following it – excelling at it. You get different snakes, more common ones, depending on how good you are at the mission. You have to not only get a perfect score, but find extra ways to harm the residents, to get Beelzebub. You…you have to go above and beyond.”

  Jack shrugged faux modestly. “It was easy, really.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment, Jack. Look at this place. It looks like a war zone with all the broken glass and stuff. Look, the toy shop’s on fire.” She turned in a full circle again, examining the town slowly, critically. “And look at the mayor’s house: you froze it solid.”

  He did look and saw with astonishment that the entire building had been covered in a thick layer of blue ice. He laughed. “Well, sugar my plums. So I did.” Her lip curled disgustedly, and he flushed. “I did not mean to say that, Jordan. That was the game. Not me. I was trying to say s-h-i-t.”

  Her expression relaxed, but only a little. “Wow. Jack…I’m surprised.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you can play how you want, of course. I’m just…well, I’m surprised you’d want to hurt people.”

  He laughed. “Jordan, they’re not people. It’s a videogame.”

  She turned reproachful eyes his way but said nothing for a long moment. Then, she shook her head. “You came to an absolute paradise, and your first thought was to empower the devil? That’s…that’s kind of dark, Jack.”

  He snorted at her, feeling both defensive, and annoyed for being put on the defensive. “I didn’t build the blessed videogame, Jordan. You people did. You gave me the option to join ‘the devil.’”

  “The option,” she repeated. “We didn’t make you. That’s all on you.”

  “It’s just a game,” he said, stubbornly.

  She nodded slowly, still eying him with disappointment. “Right. Well, like I say, you’re the player. You can play any way you want.

  “But you called me. What do you need?”

  He harrumphed and rearranged his thoughts. “I need you to get rid of that snake, for starters.”

  “Beelzebub?”

  “Yeah. And then – well, I wanted to ask if I had to go kill the reindeer, or if there was some way around that?”

  She stared at him, an eyebrow arched. “I can’t get rid of Beelzebub. You earned him as a reward for your quest.”

  “But you could still, I don’t know – delete him? Right?”

  “I could. But I’m not going to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re playing the game, and it’s working as expected. I can interfere when there’s bugs, but not just because you don’t like the way something turned out. You did something evil, and you earned an evil companion. Actions, consequences.” She shrugged in an infuriatingly disinterested way.

  “Jordan, you’re being absurd…you’re really going to punish me for playing the fun way?”

  “I’m not punishing you, Jack. You chose a play style, and that brings certain rewards. Beelzebub is one of them.”

  “He’s definitely a punishment. I want him gone.”

  She shrugged again. “Well, you could load and not play like a monster.”

  He pounced on that, snorting and declaring, “See? You are punishing me.”

  “I’m not. You’re looking for ways to get rid of Beelzebub. That’s the only way.”

  “You could delete it.”

  “But I’m not going to.”

  He scowled at her, and she stared right back. “Fine,” he decided. “I’ll just ask Richard.”

  She laughed, and not without reason. Richard, as a mere intern, was terrified of doing
the wrong thing, and consequently losing his job. He refused to interfere with the game in almost any circumstance. He hadn’t done it even when Jack’s life was on the line. It seemed highly unlikely he’d do it now, just because Jack didn’t like the outcome of his own actions.

  Still, he’d gone with this play. So he doubled down. “Laugh if you want, Jordan. I’ll do it.”

  She shrugged, for the third, infuriating time. “Do it. I guarantee you he won’t help you.”

  Jack stared daggers at her. “You’re seriously going to refuse to help me? You’re going to be a big baby because I had some fun with the game?”

  “I will help you whenever you need help, Jack. But I’m not going to break the game because you don’t like how a quest plays out. I could get fired.”

  He snorted. “You’ve done all kinds of things that could get you fired.”

  “Yes, to save you from bugs. I’m not going to get fired because you don’t like your pet.

  “Anyway, it would be irresponsible to just delete something in-game – even if I could, and I’m not sure I can – on a whim. Who knows what the ripple effect of that would be? You might end up in worse straits than you’re already in.”

  “You’d help me if you weren’t being such a baby,” he insisted.

  “Is there anything else, Jack?”

  “Yes. I want that snake gone.”

  “Then reload and play a different way; earn a different pet.”

  He scowled. It was clear she wouldn’t budge. So he moved on – for now – to his second point. Maybe, if he wore her down, he could swing back around to Beelzebub. “Okay. What about the reindeer? I don’t want to have to kill them. That should make you happy, right? I’m being a goody two-shoes.”

  “Are you really asking if I’m proud of you for not wanting to murder things? What, do you want a cookie for being a decent human being?”

  “They’re reindeer. You can’t murder them. And anyway, they’re not even real reindeer.”

  “They’re Santa’s reindeer.”

  “Which is why I don’t want to kill them. Are you going to help me, or not?”