Hard Mode: A LitRPG and GameLit Fantasy Series (Chronicles of Ethan Book 2) by John L. Monk

Author:John L. Monk [Monk, John L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mountaindale Press
Published: 2019-11-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

Rita stopped outside a store called “Legendaria.” Before going in, she cautioned me about the sales staff.

“They’re real jerks,” she said.

“Then why are we going in?”

“You’ll see.”

Upon entering, I had to tamp down a sudden feeling of exposure as we appeared to step outside. Legendaria had a sky and not a ceiling. Columns of scintillating light soared infinitely upward, merging in an explosion of gold, blue, and white. There were no walls, and the floor was a fuzzy sort of brightness we could walk on. This caused me to stumble at first, until I … well, got my feet under me. So to speak.

“You can breathe, now,” Rita said.

“My feet are fuzzy.”

“It’s more than you deserve,” she said. “Come on. Let’s go look at all the cool crap they have.”

I followed her to the nearest column of light. Floating inside, eye level, was a glowing suit of chainmail armor. As we stepped to within a few feet of it, the scene shifted to an image of me wearing the armor while fighting off salamanders in Under Town.

Out of nowhere, I found myself smiling like an idiot. I looked awesome, as my grandfather would say.

While chainmail-Ethan beat back the attack, the item’s attributes scrolled upwards on a loop. One of them caught my interest: anyone wearing the armor would be immune to fire.

If I’d had this in Under Town…

“That’s it,” I said, “I’m switching to warrior right now.”

Rita snorted. “All this can be yours for the low price of 900,000 gold pieces.” She pointed below the scene, where a shimmering price tag rotated over a glimmering pile of Everlife coins.

“Wonder if they take credit,” I said.

“Not likely. Let’s keep looking.”

The columns of light spread out around us in all directions, still with no walls in sight. I worried we’d get lost, but when I looked back, the exit to the mall was still visible.

“Oh, look at these,” Rita said. She was ogling a pair of crimson bracers studded with sparkling jewels.

I was about to tease her over the ridiculous price—500,000 gold—when a man I hadn’t seen stepped into view. He was tall and thin, with thinning black hair, and thin lips. He also had one of those thin mustaches that curl at the ends, like something out of an Industrial Age shaving cream advertisement.

In a voice every bit as thin as the rest of him, the man said, “What are you ridiculous vagabonds doing within ten miles of this place? My god, look at you … Did you find that cloak you’re wearing? Is this a joke of some kind? Are my many rich and fabulous friends putting me on?” He looked around in mock hope as if one would burst onto the scene at any moment. “Oh, I see … One of my competitors sent you here to scare off real customers. Out, out! You’re going to upset my delicate equilibrium, and I still haven’t had tea.”

Beside me, Rita growled. “We’re paying customers with money and we’re staying. Got it?”

“I could have the guards drag you out,” the man said thoughtfully, scratching his chin.

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