Into the Pit: A LitRPG Adventure (Brad the Impaler Book 2), page 1
INTO THE PIT
©2024 PAUL SATING
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the authors.
Aethon Books supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact editor@aethonbooks.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Aethon Books
www.aethonbooks.com
Print and eBook formatting by Josh Hayes. Artwork provided by J Caleb Design.
Published by Aethon Books LLC.
Aethon Books is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Contents
Also in Series
Free Fantasy from Paul Sating!
1. 1 - Thank You Fur Being a Friend
2. 2 - Hell Bent for Leather
3. 3 - Destroy Me
4. 4 - The Symphony of Destruction
5. 5 - Between the Buried and Me
6. 6 - Walk This Way
7. 7 - A Friend Like You
8. 8 - Home on the Range
9. 9 - Union of the Snake
10. 10 - Snakes in Your Face
11. 11 - It’s All a Struggle
12. 12 - All Kinds of Roses
13. 13 - These Shoes Were Made for…?
14. 14 - Wanna Dance with Somebody
15. 15 - Leader of the Pack
16. 16 - Cry Me a River
17. 17 - Everybody Get Nuts
18. 18 - Boom!
19. 19 - National Furry Anthem
20. 20 - Lullaby
21. 21 - Trail of Snake Tears
22. 22 - A Little More Mr. Nice Guy
23. 23 - Wishing Well
24. 24 - Uncle Tom’s Camp
25. 25 - Fortune is a Friend of Mine
26. 26 - Hound Dogs
27. 27 - Battle Hymns
28. 28 - I Am the Champion
29. 29 - Save a Cowboy
30. 30 - Message Without a Bottle
31. 31 - On the Road Again
32. 32 - Hidden Reflections
33. 33 - You Can’t Make Old Friends
34. 34 - The Magic Dragon, Part 1
35. 35 - The Magic Dragon, Part 2
36. 36 - The Magic Dragon, Part 3
37. 37 - The Magic Dragon, Part 4
38. 38 - Talk This Way
39. 39 - Down in a Hole
40. 40 - Hit Me with Your Best Shot
41. 41 - Bad Apple
42. 42 - Stop in the Name of (No) Love
43. 43 - A Place at the Table
44. 44 - Writing Sins not Tragedies
45. 45 - I (Don’t) Drink Alone
46. 46 - The Confession
47. 47 - My Name is Human
48. 48 - Deal with the Devil
49. 49 - On with the Show
50. 50 - You Know I’m no Good
51. 51 - Gold Rush
52. 52 - Enemies
53. 53 - You Can’t Bring Me Down
54. 54 - Trail of Tears
55. 55 - Dirty Little Secret
56. 56 - Into the Pit
57. 57 - Trip at the Brain
58. 58 - Sold Out
59. 59 - Stupify
60. 60 - Rock You like a Hurricane
61. 61 - Fight the Power
Thank you for reading Into the Pit
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Groups
LitRPG
Also in Series
Book 1 – Brad the Impaler
Book 2 – Into the Pit
Check out the entire series here! (Tap or scan)
Free Fantasy from Paul Sating!
To Matt Dinniman, for sharing all that great advice & for dropping those dope bass riffs!
1
1 - Thank You Fur Being a Friend
“Are you sure we’re not lost?”
My seven-pound Chihuahua stopped, looking over his shoulder. The corners of the two tan dots above his eyes tipped inward. I should have known not to question his map-reading skills. After all, they were far superior to mine. Just as his detailed map was. “Would you rather take the lead?” Slash asked, his voice sounding like a pre-pubescent boy’s. I couldn’t wait for the day when it started to crack. I’d give him so much shit.
I raised my hands. “Absolutely not.”
“Then how about you let me lead?”
We were on a narrow forest trail. Too narrow for two adults to walk side by side. No way a cart could push through the underbrush. “Sorry, wee man. I don’t want to get lost. It’s late. I’m hungry. Don’t forget, I have a ton of things I have to get done before the sun sets.”
Slash made a rumbling sound.
“What’s that?” I asked.
At eighteen months old, he’d often acted like a juvenile. That tendency had been exacerbated when I opened a medieval chest in the middle of a city park, sucking us into this game. Since that unfortunate mistake, his adolescent attitude only solidified. From time to time, it was helpful to call him out when he pouted. After all, I didn’t want him to think he was too high and mighty to not tumble down a few ladder rungs.
Without starting forward again he said, “Yes, like all the things you’ve put in front of finishing our house.”
“It’s coming along. Hell, I framed it out as soon as we got back from Crimson City.”
He threw his head toward the sky. “That was forrrrrrreeeeeeever ago.”
“Stop pouting. It’s unbecoming.”
He hopped around, squaring off on me. “I’m a level seven, Brad. You might call yourself ‘The Impaler’ now—” I didn’t. The game designers or its AI assigned the moniker when I defeated the Vampire King and completed its first level “—but I’m still a level higher than you. If anyone is the boss around here, it should be me.”
“Is that right?” I said with a chuckle.
His almost imperceptible shoulders slumped. “This isn’t funny. No one ever respects dogs.” Slash moved to a leafy plant hanging close to the trail. He lifted his leg, covered in a thin layer of black, tan, and white fur, and released three spurts of urine. When he caught me looking, he huffed. “To mark our trail.”
“You just pissed ten feet ago.”
“Which is why we’re not lost.”
“Which brings me back to my concern.” I swept my hand from left to right. “In case you haven’t been practicing your situational awareness, the undergrowth in this part of the forest is thick.”
He headed up the trail. “You worry too much.”
“You don’t worry enough.”
“The thing is,” Slash said as if he didn’t hear me, “the military really screwed with your head. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know you weren’t in the real military. No one in their right mind thinks the Air Force is really a military force. ‘Chair Force’ is more like it. Get it, Brad? ‘Chair Force?’”
“I get it.”
“See, ‘chair’ rhymes with ‘air,’ and everyone in the real military—”
“I know, Slash.”
“—thinks that people in the Air Force don’t do anything but sit around and play games on your computers all day.”
“I know they do.”
“I heard it’s almost as bad as the Coast Guard.”
“Focus,” I said. The trail narrowed, forcing me to push through the foliage. “We’re supposed to be finding the ‘X’ shapes you saw on your map. We don’t know if they’re people or animals. We’re not going to know if we don’t get going.”
“They better be animals,” he said with even more spunk than during his critiques of my military service. “We need the leather.”
“I know.”
I’d been promising him I’d use the Sewing Needle of Valana I’d received from a quest weeks ago. In that time, I had sewn a few essentials, mostly blankets for the little fur ball, but hadn’t found the time to craft much more. That kept my sewing at level one. By extension, the range of what I could craft was limited. Slash was happy with the blankets. In fact, they crowded our lean-to now. Still, he demanded more. As misguided as his priorities were, Slash wasn’t completely wrong. The skill could provide a lot more around the camp if I worked on it. I didn’t know what came at level two, and wouldn’t know until I reached it.
Thing is, there were only so many waterskins, blankets, and trousers I could make. Plus, to craft any of the items, I needed materials that weren’t exactly lying around camp. Namely, animal hides. When Slash swore he saw a “shitload” of red Xs on his map nearby, we’d set out to see if we could pick up easy supplies, since the letter denoted something dead. Possibly a bunch of loot without the threat of a fight. Sounded too good to be true.
Turns out, Slash’s understanding of the definition of ‘nearby’ varied greatly from mine.
We’d left the camp hours ago for what he promised would be a quick snatch-and-grab if leather or furs were available. But there was nothing quick about this. We’d yet to reach the “X” spots on his map, and we still had the trip home.
I didn’t want to think about that. There was plenty still to get done, but that wasn’t anything new. Darkworld was a survivalist game. The designers had stripped new players, which they called entrants, of every comfort of life. Literally. We were thrown into the game with nothing more than furs to cover our private parts. Anything else we needed to survive: food, clothing, shelter, water, or more, had to be obtained. In that context, there’d always be something to get done. I’d grown accustomed to that. But that didn’t change the fact it had to be done. The longer we spent away from the camp, the slower my progress in checking things off my to-do list.
“You should waterproof a doggie bedspread,” Slash said like he’d just had an epiphany. “That way, when I find a bunch of bitches to invite over, I can hump all night and not have to worry about the mess.”
“First off, that’s gross,” I said, popping up a finger. Then I raised a second. “Also, we haven’t seen another dog in all the time we’ve been in this stupid game.”
“True,” he said, his body wiggling as he swept along the trail, limp ears bouncing with his stride. “But Fortune said there were tons of them. Thousands of players, many with their pets.”
“Mascots.”
He spun and growled.
I chuckled and shrugged. “What?”
“You know I don’t like that term, Brad. Respect me enough to not use it.”
“That’s what the game calls you. Not me. Blame them.”
“I will when I see them.” He perked up, his ears lifted straight, forming tiny triangles for a second before one of them flopped over in half. “Until I find out who they are. Then I’m going to creep into their house in the middle of the night and poop in their mouths when they’re snoring.”
“Gross. But effective.”
“Right?” He raised his front paws in the air like he wanted a double high five, then got back to the trail. “We’re more than mascots. I swear, if I do anything in this game, I’m going to make those dickheads understand that. Though, if I’m honest, I don’t expect much. You know? Since humans are responsible for this.”
“I get it, buddy. For the record, I think of you as way more than anything any human calls you. Back in the real world or in Darkworld.”
Slash stopped in the middle of the trail, and I almost tripped over him. He turned, pressed his front paws on me, and pushed against my legs. “I know. I saw it on your face when you visited me for the first time. Before you adopted me. I knew then you had a good heart.”
I pulled back. “You did?”
“Of course,” Slash said as if I’d just asked him if water was wet. “Dogs have far superior senses to you dumb hairless apes. That’s probably why these game designers made us mascots instead of full players. They know what’d happen if we had full privileges like humans. We’d probably finish the game in hours. We definitely wouldn’t take as long as you are to complete it. But yes, I could tell then.” He nuzzled against my leg. “You respect other animals on a level way beyond other stupid humans. That’s why I let you adopt me. And why I promise to not poop in your mouth when you’re sleeping.” His eyes narrowed. “For now. But I might change my mind if you don’t finish building my house soon. I cannot invite bitches back to the lean-to. I just can’t. Hey, are we going to do that sock on the doorknob thing you males do when you’re humping and want privacy?”
I stepped over him. “You’re ridiculous. Come on. Let’s find these markers and grab any loot lying around. I want to get home and get to work.”
Slash burst through the narrow space between my leg and the edge of the trail. “It’s just up here. Move. Me first.”
My wee man darted up the narrow dirt trail. The day was pleasant. Warm, but not hot. The forest’s diverse tree coverage blocked the harshest rays of the golden sun. The air was thick but fresh. Another good day in Darkworld.
Watching Slash bounce to the crest of the trail, I couldn’t help but wonder when everything had changed. Sure, I was living out the best years of my life inside a survivalist video game in a medieval world instead of the real world. Real, where running water, the internet, live sports from around the world, and streaming services were a thing. But in that world, I had a shitty job, working for a shittier human who couldn’t care less about me or any of my coworkers. A world where my best friends lived an hour away in Seattle. For as much time as they made for me, I might as well live a world away. Like where my parents lived across the country and the best damn woman I’d ever met realized she and I weren’t compatible because we were at different points in our life.
It was strange to see Darkworld in a positive light when compared to the actual world. But this place gave me things I didn’t have back there. Things I appreciated and valued. Peace and quiet. A life where I wasn’t required to sit in a cubicle nine hours a day doing shit that didn’t matter. No unaffordable rent. No bills. Darkworld gave me precious dedicated time with my best friend.
In moments like this, I truly enjoyed being here. The problem? Moments like this never lasted.
2
2 - Hell Bent for Leather
“Don’t go closer,” Slash said with a whimper. I was thankful he’d kept his voice down.
On our stomachs, we hid on a ridge, looking down at the carnage. Man and best friend. Hiding under the protection of strands of green forest from the red splatter pattern below.
“Those are people,” I said, still stunned.
“And animals,” Slash said, reminding me not to forget the breadth of the absolute horror of the scene that’d played out before our arrival.
We’d tripped across a slaughter.
“Yeah.” The inadequacies of the comment were immediate as I scanned the butchery fifty feet below.
We’d left the slim trail when Slash convinced me he’d found the Xs just west of our location. I’d followed him. Trusting his map-reading abilities had served us well, even though our guide, Fortune, warned us that my pup wouldn’t always interpret his map correctly. Truth lies in ambiguity.
The Xs were legitimate. Their location? Accurate. Our expectations, way off-course. I’d thought we’d come across poor, but ultimately non-sentient, animals killed by one of Darkworld’s natural predators. What we looked down on now was a partial truth.
“What did that?” Slash asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, my analysis going from the carnage to the area around it. “I wish we could have been here to help.”
“We couldn’t have stopped whatever did that.”
“Maybe.”
Slash crawled forward, never pulling his belly more than a few inches from the weeds.
I reached out, my hand easily wrapping around his hips, just below his spiked leather jacket. “What are you doing?”
Patiently, he said, “Come here.”
I scooted forward.
“Are you ready to admit that my sleuthing skills are superior to yours?”
“Of course.”
“Then look.” When I didn’t move, he sighed and slunk forward another foot. “Come on. No one is here anymore.” He sniffed at the air, his tiny black nostrils wiggling, and grimaced. “All I smell is death.”
With an Insight skill score of twenty and Perception of seventeen, Slash could pick out far more than I could, even discounting the natural advantage of his species. If he said the coast was clear, then it was. If any creature or sneaking rogue could get by his sniffer, they’d already know we were here.
When we were side by side, he nudged his jaw toward a spot below. A corpse. His legs and arms were bent at wrong angles.
