The Azure Dragon

  Vladimir Vasilenko

  The Azure Dragon

  Translated by Olga Cotey

  Welcome

  Hi! We’re LitHunters, a digital publishing house that specializes in diamond-in-the-rough book series. We publish books that are already popular with the most important people: you, the readers!

  At LitHunters, we focus on the highest quality and most entertaining stories for our readers. That’s what you can expect from all of our books! Thanks for checking out our book, and if you like it, we have a few recommendations at the end with some of our other series.

  Hope you enjoy, and happy reading!

  Join LitHunters Club on Facebook!

  The Azure Dragon

  He woke up at a strange unfamiliar place. Bound.

  The Steel Hounds is a clan, filled with the most unique people in the fantasy world of Artar. And Mongoose’s squad is not the only one in it. A real-life mercenary is a leader of it’s most resultative and savage brunch, and now Mongoose’s life is in his hands.

  He has to resolve a feud between two old and powerful irreconcilable enemies in his clan with a looming internecine war of NPC's on the background.

  Being caught between Scylla and Charybdis, his personal goals are not set aside and he is still mastering his skills as a battle monk. Circumstances have developed fortunately and exactly in the location with their current mission there is the Azure Dragon, the great altar of the elements of the Tree.

  ***

  The Azure Dragon is the third book in the fantasy LitRPG series The Artar Chronicles by Vladimir Vasilenko.

  A fantasy adventure of Stan continues today! Join the exciting quest in the virtual world of Artar, filled with magic, battles, martial arts and deadly creatures. This gamelit story is getting edgy and making a new twist. His real life is in danger now, as powerful and cruel people, led by hate and thirst for power, need his skills. Of this quest might change the destiny of everyone in the Steel Hounds, including both his friends and enemies.

  The Steel Hounds

  Contents:

  Chapter 1. Change of Rules

  Chapter 2. A Stranger Among His Own

  Chapter 3. The White Shore

  Chapter 4. Uobo

  Chapter 5. The Old Camp

  Chapter 6. Following the Trail

  Chapter 7. The Other Side of the Medal

  Chapter 8. At the Split Rock

  Chapter 9. The Legend of the Azure Dragon

  Chapter 10. Back to Basics

  Chapter 11. The Eternal Banyan Tree

  Chapter 12. Adrift

  Chapter 13. Sneaking Mongoose, Hiding Vanara

  Chapter 14. Negotiations

  Chapter 15. Point of No Return

  Chapter 16. Back to the Jungle

  Chapter 17. Kongamato Nest

  Chapter 18. Pinpricks

  Chapter 19. The Whispering Oak

  Chapter 20. Fish in Muddy Waters

  Chapter 21. Under the Shadow of Death

  Chapter 22. Debriefing

  Chapter 23. The Height of Heaven and the Depth of the Earth

  Chapter 24. One-on-One

  Chapter 25. The Path Thread

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  Book recommendations

  About Vladimir Vasilenko

  Chapter 1. Change of Rules

  The pain in my temples pulsated to the beat of my heart, and as soon as I turned my head a little, a bright light hit my eyes.

  Damn, I'd better stop exceeding the recommended duration of game sessions! There is a good reason for medical restrictions when it comes to it.

  The light hurt my eyes even through closed eyelids. Did I forget to close the blinds last night? And that sound. There was no mistaking that—some neighbor was boring the wall with a power drill. It sounded somewhere really close, right above my head.

  Rot in hell, you tool!

  I turned with a groan, covering my face with my palm. Something tugged at my hand, digging painfully in the wrist. Being half-awake, I didn't immediately realize what was happening. I jerked again, trying to get out of bed, but I hit my head on something so hard that I saw stars. Blinking and squinting from the unbearably bright sunlight pouring out of the window, I looked around.

  Dilapidated walls with bubbling and cracked paint. An ancient light bulb on a black wire hanging down from the ceiling. As far as furniture, there was a bedside table in the far corner next to a dirty sink with dripping faucet. An iron lattice bed screwed tight to the floor. The only thing that stood out from this picture was the fresh linens on the bed. Their white color seemed to be especially blinding against the background of the rest of the mess.

  The handcuff was painfully digging into my skin on the wrist. It must have been fastened too tight because even my fingers began to go numb. Or did I tighten it when I started twitching? The second handcuff was snapped to the headboard. As if not believing in the reality of the situation, I pulled the chain. The handcuff made a nasty screeching sound, sliding on the thick iron rail.

  My knees buckled treacherously, and I sank into the bed that creaked beneath me.

  What the hell? Where am I?!

  I sent a mental request for geo-location—NCI made this habitual for people, it was as simple as looking at your watch. But the interface did not respond. I instinctively raised my hand to my head…

  Damn it! The spot on the skin where the plates of the external NCI were supposed to be had a rough patch on it. Touching it hurt. Someone messed with it!

  If I found myself in an ice bath with a scar across my belly, I'd have probably panicked less than I did at this moment. Losing your NCI was equivalent to being blind in one eye.

  I frantically started going through the functions. Voice communication—dead. Text messages—same there. Calling emergency services—no luck either! The entire communication hub was completely blocked, just as all the interfaces tied to the network. Only offline services such as photo and video shooting, offline media viewing, and other small things remained available. Very little was stored in local memory nowadays as everything was in the cloud.

  Oddly enough, the module of connection to Eidos worked, but I didn’t really need it at that point. I didn’t see an Eidos modem in the filthy cell. No, it didn’t look like a cell. It was more like a ward in an abandoned hospital or a medical center. The doors were simple—made out of wood. The window was also quite simple—yellowish plastic frame, double pane window that couldn’t be opened, because there was a hole with a triangular pin sticking out instead of a handle.

  I couldn't look out the window because the bed that I was chained to was too far from it. In addition to my immobility, the bed itself was screwed to the floor with huge screws. But, judging by the tree branches touching the glass, I was on a low floor, second or third.

  The throbbing pain in my temples didn't let me focus. I stared at the miserly room, looking for clues. I tried to get rid of the handcuffs but didn’t succeed. I couldn't even loosen the bars on the headboard so I could remove one cuff—everything I was tied to was very sturdy.

  Should I try calling for help, trying to out-shout the non-stop drilling? I don't really feel like it. It seems to me that people who kidnap someone and handcuff them to a heater are not very pleasant to talk to. If they ever show up, that is.

  A soon as I thought that, the door to the room swung open.

  My worst suspicions were confirmed the moment I looked at the intruder. His face would easily frighten children. Not just children—I unwittingly shrank myself.

  He was short, but strong, with long, monkey-like arms. He was as hairy as a monkey, too. He had black thick hair even on the back of his hands and on the phalanges of his fingers. The bristles on his cheeks were
up to his eyes. His head was bald, and there were scars on his tanned brown skull. They looked like they were old burns.

  He looked Asian, fifty years old, maybe older. Black-eyed, thin-lipped, with hard, rough features, and bushy black eyebrows. He had calm and serious eyes, the gaze of which could make anyone uncomfortable. He was dressed in an expensive suit and strikingly white shirt. This outfit looked ridiculous on him and not just because of the place we were in—military camouflage and heavy boots would be more befitting for this thug. It'd be even better if he had bloody armor on. Or maybe I just spent too much time in Artar.

  The stranger came close, stood in front of me, and looked at me with a scrutinizing gaze. He kept silent. I didn't feel like striking a conversation either. Even my inner mischievous little imp that usually incites me to be sarcastic, also vigilantly fell silent.

  "Sleeping too long," finally, the black-eyed croaked. "How's your head?

  His voice was hoarse and low. It seemed like he was about to break out in a cough.

  "I have a headache!" I snapped. "Where am I? Who are you? What the hell is going on?"

  "No double vision? Do you feel like barfing? Maybe seeing colored circles in your eyes?" He went on, ignoring my questions.

  Does he think he's a doctor or something?

  "The only thing that makes me wanna barf is your face. And your dingy closet room. Did you kidnap me? Do you understand that they will look for me? And that…"

  For a moment, everything went black from a powerful slap. My head lurched, and when I tried to sit down straight, something cold and sharp touched my throat. I involuntarily pulled away and froze in an awkward position, leaning on the bed with my hands.

  Leaning one foot on the edge of the bed, the stranger hovered over me, pressing the blade of a knife to my neck. His eyes were as calm and cold as before. So was his voice.

  "I know you're scared. That's why you're sassing off. But don't talk to me like that. You'll regret it. Got it?"

  "Yeah.”

  He took the knife away, and I involuntarily followed it with my eyes. It was similar to a bird's claw, kerambit with a blued blade and shiny as a mirror shank. He held it with a reverse grip—the steel ring at the end of the handle was thrown over his index finger. A massive gold signet with a ruby shined on his middle finger.

  The stranger still hung over me, silently looking into my eyes.

  "What do you want from me?"

  "You have no idea, huh?"

  I suppressed the urge to be sarcastic or rude. Though he took the knife away from my neck, he didn't put it away. The sight of the predatory curved blade in his hairy paw was, frankly, unnerving.

  "No."

  "Nobody likes rats, boy. Or did you think you could get away with it?"

  "What are you talking about? And who the fuck are you?"

  "We are wasting time."

  "That's right! Tell me exactly what you want from me. Or do you think you're gonna scare me with a cutter to start confessing to all my sins, starting from kindergarten?"

  The stranger smiled, but it would have been better if he didn't—his smile was that of a scary clown from horror movies. I actually got goose bumps.

  "Too bad. It'd be nice."

  He straightened up and looked around, looking for a chair. Not finding a place to sit down, he remained standing. With an imperceptible movement of a magician, he hid the knife behind his belt and folded his arms on the chest.

  "I'm Genghis. I'm the commander of the Steel Hounds."

  "There's gotta be a mistake. What about Terekhov?"

  "Terekhov was suspended. More precisely, he was demoted. He and the rest of his group were placed under my command. I've been asking for reinforcements for a while now. Although, I don't know how to feel about it in your case."

  "Why is that?"

  "There is a suspicion that there's an infiltrator among you. Someone is leaking information about the operations of the Steel Hounds to interested parties. So far, the damage is not very big, but the stakes have grown higher."

  "Do you think we're idiots? Why would any of us do that?"

  Genghis shrugged his shoulders, pretending to be indifferent.

  "There are many options, considering what motley crew Terekhov has gathered. I still have to figure it out. But that's none of your concern right now. I want to talk about the Eye of Dahamesh."

  Damn it... They got wind of it somehow, bastards! Well, now I have only one option: put on a quizzical face and try to be a good actor.

  "Is something wrong with it? That's my trophy! Clam made it clear that the eye should not be accrued by the Legion. But there were no instructions about giving it to the Hounds. It could have been destroyed in the explosion."

  "But it wasn't. Where is it?"

  I looked at him askance, holding back the rage boiling inside. What was the sense in putting on a show when I was unarmed and handcuffed? It looks cool only in the old Bond movies. I didn't really want to replicate that.

  "In my deposit box in Harbor," I finally replied.

  If they know about the eye, they must have found out about Maverick and our deal. There is no sense to lie. It's probably a test, which I apparently passed.

  Genghis nodded and mellowed out.

  "Alright. Leave it there. We may need it in a couple of days. Or it could be sooner. Forget about that dude from Garax. The eye is merely a toy for him—another trophy for his collection. In our hands, it can play a key role."

  "This dude, by the way, has offered me ten thousand eurocredits," I retorted, exaggerating for greater effect. "What do I get by giving you the loot?"

  "You're taking on a lot of credit for that task. You didn't get the eye alone. This is a squad achievement. Of course, you had a key role in the operation, but it’s no reason to appropriate the trophy. I don't really care, though. If I didn't need that thing, I'd let you have it. But I do need it, so you'll just give it to me. Without further discussions."

  "What if I won't? Are you gonna kill me over some virtual bullshit?"

  "Why? I'm not keeping you here."

  As if to illustrate his words, he took out the key to the handcuffs and unfastened me from the bed. Wincing from pain, I rubbed my scratched wrist.

  "The rules are changing, Mongoose. You can forget about your contract with the boss. Nobody owes anything to anyone. You're free to go home if you want. After you give me the eye, of course. We already took the modem from your apartment."

  "What do you mean? We won't be working together at all anymore? Or will the terms be different?"

  "Let's just say that Terekhov did not quite live up to the expectations. It'd be more accurate to say that his strategy with personnel didn't work. And you are the prime example. He claimed he could control you, but in the end, you barely gained some strength and tried to take advantage of your team in favor of your own interests."

  "I just need money," I grunted.

  "Who doesn't need it?" Genghis asked with reason.

  I scoffed.

  "Does the rest of the team already know?"

  "Terekhov does. I have no idea about the others. That's your personal issue you have to deal with."

  "So you must have your own squad? We have long suspected that Clam has more people to run errands for him."

  "Yes, there are several units, and they were created in the first days after the launch of Artar. They work autonomously from each other, in different regions. Their work methods vary too. At the same time, we can find out who will be more... effective."

  "What's wrong with our team? We haven't failed a single mission! Even though the mission with Dahamesh was just unreal."

  "That's why you're still here and not thrown out on the street."

  "Yes, sitting in the penalty box instead."

  "Turn in the snitch and your situation will change. For now, you're all expendables for my backup. We have an important mission. It'll take seven to ten days. After that, I'll report to the chief. We'll decide what to do. Even if you
don't consider the leaks, I have a lot of questions for your unit. For example, why the hell do you need that half-assed necromancer instead of a normal healer? The sorceress, in my opinion, is of little use, too. Overall, we need to clean up the personnel.”

  He was walking around the room with his hands behind the back as he was saying this. The heels of his expensive leather shoes clicked on the floor.

  "What about me?"

  "Not sure yet. I need to see what you are. In the game and in real life. Especially in the game. I know what an intelligent, trained, and well-equipped close combat warrior is capable of. An archer. An assassin. I pay attention to the help. But I've not yet dealt with monks, so we'll see. Especially since you're a celebrity—First Master of Water. All gaming forums are going nuts today."

  Judging by his tone, he wasn't particularly impressed by my achievement.

  Whatever. I wish I could meet you in Artar when both of us are armed! We would see who's who.

  "Okay. That sounds like Clam. Just one of his tests. You keep an eye on me, which means I have to bend over backwards to impress you. What's in it for me?"

  Genghis shook his head, grinning mysteriously.

  "I see you've gotten smarter in the last few weeks. After all, Terekhov lured you into the game at no cost."

  "The circumstances are different. You said it yourself that the rules are changing."

  "Alright. Here's the thing. My ordinary soldiers receive one hundred and fifty euros per session. Your team will automatically receive the same amount. This is for the next week while we're dealing with the current task. Then we'll see what you’re worth. We will adjust the salary if necessary. There are rewards for special merits."

  "That easy? Terekhov said that Clam doesn't trust ordinary mercenaries. Money is a weak motivator. There will always be those who offer more."

  "I proved to him that my approach is more effective."

  "What kind of approach is that?"

  Instead of answering, Genghis walked up to the window and stopped, watching something in the yard. I reluctantly got up and approached him.