The Keepers of Limbo (The Range Book #1): LitRPG Series, page 1
The Keepers of Limbo
a novel
by Yuri Ulengov
The Range
Book#1
Magic Dome Books
The Range
Book #1: The Keepers of Limbo
Copyright © Yuri Ulengov 2020
English translation copyright © Ksenia Akulova 2020
Cover Art © Ivan Khivrenko 2020
Art Designer Vladimir Manyukhin
Published by Magic Dome Books, 2020
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 978-80-7619-213-3
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.
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Table of Contents:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 1
Earth Federation, Orion System
Rhapsody, Sector 3 of the Gray Zone—designated safe zone of the Range.
Drop-off zone
THE RESCUE POD hit the ground so hard that for a moment I lost consciousness and my guts nearly jumped out of my throat. Hey, at least I wasn’t blown to pieces. I could have been. If the engine turned off ten seconds earlier, I would be dead meat by now.
Technically, the reverse thrusters should be running until the landing is completed. Technically, the pod should have been scrapped long ago. And it was—with me in it. The mechanics responsible for the drop-off don’t give a shit about the passenger’s wellbeing, and wasting fuel to ensure a soft landing for someone like me…? As one of my cynical friends would say, “Forget about it!”
After hitting the ground, the pod jumped up and bounced from rock to rock like a frog. The safety system, of course, had been shut off. Dangling from the belts (thank God they hadn’t been removed!), I clenched my teeth, trying not to bite off my tongue, and prayed for only one thing: that the next hit wouldn’t be fatal. Whether my prayers were heard or whether I just got lucky—I’m not sure but I survived. The pod, deformed and twisted into a smashed can, finally stopped. Wasting no time, I began to untangle myself from the belts. In theory, there was nothing in the pod that could explode but there were other dangers beyond just fire.
An AR greeting flashed before my eyes:
Welcome to the Range!
Yeah, whatever. I kept fighting with the belt buckles, jammed at the worst moment as if by Murphy’s Law.
Attention! You are in the Gray—designated safe—Zone. Aggressive fauna and mechanisms are absent. Remember: weapons of threat level 6 and up are banned in the Gray Zone. The use of such weapons has serious consequences. Please see Help for details.
NewVision Corporation strongly recommends that you insure your life and health. In the event of your death, compensation will be paid to the persons you specified.
Error. The player has been identified as prisoner No. 33286AN, sent to the Range under the sentence substitution program. Insurance: not available. Introductory briefing: not available. Help: not available until progress level 5 and initiation.
Be careful and pay attention. Don’t forget to pick up your starter kit.
Thanks, guys!
I unbuckled the last belt and tried to open the hatch. Yeah, right! It’s pretty amazing that this bucket of bolts didn’t fall apart upon entering the atmosphere. Hopefully the emergency unlock system still works. I didn’t really want to be buried alive in this can.
I found a big mushroom-shaped button and kicked it. The squibs popped, the pod swayed—and the blown-off hatch flew off into the darkness. I felt a wave of cold wind. Damn it, that’s a sure way to get pneumonia! Of course, the climate control in the pod wasn’t working either. I nearly boiled alive during the short descent from orbit and now I was all drenched in sweat. Well, at least I was still breathing. I slipped the starter kit into my chest pocket and stretched. I needed to get out of here as soon as possible.
I was sure they were already waiting for me outside. Mutts, vultures, scavengers—they had different names here. The small fry, level 3 max, unable to act independently and save up for an upgrade. Bastards, only capable of trapping zeroes—dispirited, frightened, not yet adapted to the surroundings and without time to even look around—at the start. Vultures never go deep, where they are likely to fall prey to the higher-level inhabitants of the Range. No, they live here, in the Sandbox. They die here, too, when they come across a more prepared zero like me.
As I rushed out of the pod, I saw a shadow moving dangerously close to me and jumped to the side. Good timing!
An unidentified object whistled through the air right where my head was a second ago. I grabbed a piece of brick from the ground and threw it with full force into the darkness, towards the sound. I heard a thump and a squelching noise. The implant displayed another system notification. No time for it now. I blinked, swiping the message aside. I’ll read it later.
I heard a clink—the vulture dropped the rod—and darted to it. My fingers scraped the stone and closed around the “handle” with twine wound around it. Again, good timing. I heard the sound of a pebble flying off a shoe behind me and turned around as fast as I could, swinging my improvised weapon. The metal clinked and my arm was nearly paralyzed. With my rod, I intercepted the blow of another rod that the vulture, barely visible in the darkness, had swung at me with all his might. Having no idea how to fence using construction materials, I kicked the dark figure that appeared in front of me in the shin. The figure hissed in pain, and I followed up by hitting it in the head with my left fist. The attacker swayed, losing his balance and giving me a few precious seconds to grab the rod with both hands and bring it down on the vulture’s head. There was another squelching noise; the figure sunk to the ground and I heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the distance. Realizing that no easy prey was in the picture, the rest chose to leave the battlefield. All the better for me. Actually, I should be getting out of here, too. What if there were other freeloaders around here?
I picked up the rod and quickly searched both scavengers. One had a flask of water, the other had a pack of universal ration and a carefully filed-down strip of metal that had been turned into a handmade knife. Well, that’s a good start. A bag would be nice, too, so that I wouldn’t have to carry everything in my pockets but oh well. It can wait. Okay, there was something else I needed to do.
Trying not to puke, I began to pull off the clothes from the bigger scavenger. He didn’t need them anymore but I did; flaunting my orange prisoner’s jumpsuit around here wasn’t a good idea. Granted, almost ninety percent of us here were prisoners, but the jumpsuit gives one away as a newcomer, unable to get more suitable clothes. Besides, it drew attention, not allowing you to blend in.
After changing my clothes, I chose the direction opposite to where the vultures had fled to and began to make my way through the night.
Cold. Dark. Deadly. Those were the first three words that came to mind if I were asked to describe this place. The dank March wind threw a handful of icy drizzle in my face, as if saying hi.
Walking was difficult. I encountered a few large boulders and parts of the path were blocked by rubble. This part of the city was hit the hardest. Several blocks lay in ruins and it was hard to maneuver among the piles of rubbish and debris of synthetic concrete. Still, I couldn’t slow down. Anyone within a few miles’ radius could have seen the pod landing, and I was a hundred percent sure that many would have liked to try their luck and get at least a flask of water and a pack of universal ration included in the starter kit.
Gradually, I approached the surviving city blocks. The rubble became smaller and less frequent, and soon the first buildings—your usual nine-story apartment buildings, very typical for all remote colonies—appeared in the distance. Fast, cheap, livable. What else do you need? The colonists—for the most part, miners, mining minerals, or factory workers, processing these minerals—were not picky at all. In the five years that a standard contract lasted they made so much money that they were willing to suffer through it. Back in the metropol
I myself once fell for the amount listed in the contract and joined the army. Who knew that the war of the colonies would break out in a year, and in a few months a Xenos fleet would fall into our space out of nowhere and you would have to fight for your life instead of just hanging out at remote outposts? Admittedly, at least my chances of survival were higher: intensive training, a small-arms system and the assault armor are good assets to have when dealing with rebels and aliens. Miners and other sloggers weren’t as lucky. Still, we were the ones saving the workers from the assault of the Xenos. While they just had to survive one attack when waiting to be evacuated, the planetary assault forces risked their lives every day.
Yeah, it’s hard to believe. Only two months ago I was the commander of an assault company. Now, I am prisoner No. 33286AN who chose the Range as an alternative to the electric chair. Life can be fickle.
The rubble was completely gone by now, and I was making my way through a badly damaged but still standing residential area. I had to be three times as cautious here; you never knew who could be hiding in the darkness. They could have made me a long time ago and could be following me now, waiting for a chance to attack. It may be paranoia but at the Range paranoia is not a mental disorder but a quality required for survival.
I sat down, hiding behind the hull of a mobile, forever frozen by the side of the road, listening and peering into the darkness as hard as I could. Having lost their prey, scavengers would have started to scurry and eventually given themselves away. Most likely, no one was around. That’s good.
A pit—dug out as a foundation for a new building and abandoned afterwards—showed black in the distance. Next to it, I saw a temporary construction module and decided to make it my first rest stop. I needed to sit down, catch my breath and think about what to do next. Getting warm wouldn’t hurt either. The dank wind blew through the frayed leather jacket and torn-up sweater that I had taken off the dead scavenger. At least the walls of the construction module would shield me from the cold.
After waiting for a bit, I began to move towards the module, trying to keep in the shadows.
The module door creaked treacherously and I froze. Silence. Had I been followed, they would have attacked me by now. At least here I could catch my breath.
I sat down on a sunken chair and launched the notification bar.
Player No. 7892 eliminated. You earn 500 XP.
“First Blood” achievement received.
Player No. 7895 eliminated. You earn 500 XP.
Congratulations! You unlocked a new level.
Current level: 1.
Points to the new level: 2,000.
Attention! You received a donation from user Firestone. 300 credits have been credited to your account. User comment: “Great start!”
We would like to remind you that credits received from users can be spent on upgrades and additional resources. Continue to please viewers to get more donations.
Attention! Initialization available. Complete initialization to learn how to use the game interface.
I blinked the menu to the side and cursed through my teeth. “Great start!”, my ass! It couldn’t have gone any worse. I’ve spent less than an hour at the Range and already have two bodies to my name. Although I shouldn’t be feeling too bad about it—the bastards deserved it. Based on their serial numbers, they landed on the planet together, possibly as part of a group. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened to the others. Most likely, the third one, who escaped, was from the same group. I know exactly how these scumbags unlocked their first levels. I don’t really care about them. But it’s going to get worse. Not everyone at the Range is scum that deserves to die. Many find themselves here because of different circumstances. Take me, for example. But if I want to survive here, I’ll have to forget about that. To me, they are just nameless players, each with the singular goal of killing me to earn extra points and currency. The main thing is to convince myself of this, and then, maybe, I will succeed.
I called the interface again, activated the link and looked at the menu that expanded in front of me.
Subject No. 33286AN. Codename: none.
Status: prisoner. Sent to the Range under the sentence substitution program. Edict of the Government of the Earth Federation No. 43897, amendment No. 4 dated 2/31/2385.
Sentence: life imprisonment. Decision of the Supreme Court of the Earth Federation No. 876456 dated 3/12/2387.
Insurance: not available.
Race: Terran.
Level: 1.
Subject’s abilities:
Strength: 8. Above average.
Endurance: 10. Above average.
Agility: 10. Above average.
Perception: insufficient data.
Accuracy: insufficient data.
Combat efficiency: insufficient data.
Armor: 1 (low-quality outerwear).
The values are calculated based on the analysis of the subject’s physical condition parameters and their comparison with the average parameters of other players in the Gray Zone. The values may change with the installation of implants and augmentations, the use of armor and equipment, and the move to other zones of the Range.
Specialization: none.
Initialization completed. To gain access to other interface functions, the store and specialized applications, reach level 5 and complete initialization of the basic implant.
Hmm, “above average.” Well, that’s better than nothing. The main thing now is to use these “above average” parameters correctly. It’s also important not to sit in one place. Life here means constant movement. If you have to hide, at least do it better than I just did. I have to keep moving. Just need to search the module first. What if there’s something useful here?
I minimized the menu, took a sip of water out of the flask, placed the rod so that it was easy to reach, and began to look around.
Chapter 2
Earth Federation, Orion System
Rhapsody, Sector 3 of the Gray Zone—designated safe zone of the Range
Drop-off zone
THE CONSTRUCTION MODULE was completely empty. I couldn’t find a single tool or object in there. No wonder. This sector is used as a drop-off zone. Everything was cleaned out long ago, either by the inhabitants themselves or by my former colleagues before them. Even prisoners weren’t dropped into the red or orange danger level sector. Everything here has been ransacked and looted. It feels like even the dust has been plundered. I suspect the inhabitants of the ruins only survive on what the so-called humanitarians—drones carrying containers with water and food—drop for them. Mind you, they do this not out of charity, as one might think, but only to make the show more spectacular.
NewVision Corporation, which sells broadcasts from Rhapsody, knows a lot about the shows, and the government of the Federation, exhausted by the war and barely starting to recover, is doing everything to please it. It is thanks to the Corporation alone that the planet, which would have taken billions of credits to clean up and rebuild, not only doesn’t bring a loss but also generates some kind of profit. In addition to the lease paid by NewVision to the treasury, the Federation doesn’t have to worry about taking care of tens of thousands of prisoners who, on their own accord and for peanuts, clean up sectors with red and orange danger levels, ruins and wastelands, still full of hostile Xenos mechanisms and psychotic Terran autonomous military equipment that can’t be deactivated remotely. Fifty years from now, when the lease expires, the Federation will get a safe planet where minerals can be mined again. The fact that at that time it will have to deal with tens of thousands of prisoners, accustomed to the absence of the law, living brutally and by the “might is right” principle, doesn’t bother the Earth Government now. They have a lot on their plate. In some way, I understand them.
