Light Bringer: New World[LitRPG, Fantasy, a very crazy idea]

The Miller bedroom stayed locked for forty-eight consecutive hours.

Kayla enforced the punishment to the letter. She unlocked the door twice a day to shove in a deep bowl of cold rice, watery beans, and tough chunks of hot dog, collected the dish from the previous meal without a word beyond a reproving click of her tongue, and slammed the wood shut with the key turning in the lock. Maicon spent all Sunday in the living room watching reruns of soccer matches on television, getting up only to grab bottles of beer from the kitchen.

For Dante, the isolation was the best thing that could have happened.

He spent Saturday and Sunday flat on his back on the narrow cot, arms extended at his sides, breathing through his nose to avoid straining the bandages. Every six hours, the system clock chimed with a dull beep inside his head.

[Health Points regenerated: +1 HP.]

At eleven o’clock on Monday morning, once Kayla left for her monthly appointment at the local health clinic and Maicon was already at the parts warehouse, Dante sat on the edge of the mattress and peeled back the edges of the adhesive tape.

The old towel came away easily. The three trenches where the Ash Crawler’s claws had shredded his flesh were now closed. In place of the open lacerations remained three thick marks of glistening dark red, pulling slightly whenever he twisted his torso from side to side. His rib no longer popped.

[Name: Dante Miller]

[Level: 1 (0/100 EXP)]

[Health Points: 12/12]

[Mana Points: 45/45]

[Status: Normal. Infernal Laceration Scars consolidated.]

He slipped on a clean black t-shirt, put on an old denim jacket that had belonged to a distant cousin, and pulled a battered school backpack from the bottom of the wardrobe. Inside the pack, he shoved a water bottle filled to the brim, two dry boxes of matches, a length of nylon clothesline rope, and in the front pocket, two boxes of apple juice he bought at the bakery with the change left over from the birthday cake mix.

He descended the building stairs with steady footsteps. His legs still had their usual sluggishness imposed by his measly four Strength points, but the sharp pain in his flank had vanished entirely.

Midday beat down heavily over the reservoir grounds.

The tall brush was dry, crackling beneath the soles of Dante’s sneakers as he followed the footpath through the grass. When he neared the pump house, he saw that the iron door stood open a handspan wider than usual.

Maria was already inside.

She was sitting on the edge of the concrete platform, dangling her legs in the air. This time she wore denim shorts frayed at the cuffs, a baggy gray tank top, and the same worn-out sneakers. A blue school backpack lay tossed beside her on the cardboard.

Catching sight of Dante’s silhouette slipping through the door gap, she stopped swinging her feet and held out an open right palm.

”Where is it?”

Dante shrugged off his backpack, unzipped the front pouch, and tossed the two apple juice boxes into her lap.

Maria snatched both cartons out of the air with a swift snap of her wrist. She punched the plastic straw into the first one without wasting a beat, took a long pull that drained a third of the juice in one go, and peered at his waistline beneath the black shirt.

”You walked briskly,” she noted, pointing the straw at him. ”Did your health bar fill up all the way?”

Dante climbed onto the concrete platform carefully, sitting down two paces from her.

”Twelve out of twelve.” He lightly patted his ribs with his palm. ”Three ugly marks stayed, but the flesh healed up inside. The system accelerates tissue repair while resting.”

”Good.” Maria pinned the juice box between her knees and crossed her arms over her chest. The look on her face shifted, losing that air of a kid having a snack at recess. ”That guy in the white jacket showed up in my room Saturday afternoon.”

Dante froze, hand on his backpack strap. His eyes locked onto hers.

”He went to your house?”

”Showed up out of nowhere, sitting on the step stool by my wardrobe while my mom was snoring in the next room,” she recounted each word calmly. ”He unlocked my class. Said I’m a Level 1 Rearguard Sentinel now. I have twenty-six hit points.”

Dante slowly let out a breath. He had known her absurd numbers since Saturday morning, but hearing official confirmation of her class consolidation brought fresh weight to the conversation.

”And what else did he say?”

”Said your soul has an old debt to collect on the other side.” She leaned forward, propping her elbows on her thighs. ”Said you have a weak body, can barely handle your own breathing, and if you step into that pit alone again you’ll end up carrion before clearing the first fence. He called me your bumper.”

Dante ground his teeth. The urge to lash out against the unknown stranger’s words churned in his stomach, but he swallowed his anger. The man wasn’t wrong. The scarred tissue along his waist was living proof that a level-three beast had nearly ripped him in half.

”Did he tell you who he was?”

”No.” Maria took another sip of juice. ”He talks like one of those lazy punks from down the street, but his eyes shine like gold and the ground doesn’t even leave dirt on his sneakers. He runs that silver screen more than we do.”

She set the empty juice box on the concrete and stood up. She towered over Dante on the platform, looking down at him.

”I am not stepping into that pit with you just to be a shield for someone I don’t know.” Her voice rang steady, without a tremor. ”That guy said I have to hold the line with my fists while you throw stones from a distance. So get up off that concrete right now and show me everything you know how to do. Every trick, every spell, and every button on that screen of yours.”

Dante looked at the girl for three seconds. There was raw grit in her eyes, the same stubbornness that drove her to push a wheelbarrow through the dark to save a stranger’s life.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

He had no choice. A combat group required total transparency about each member’s capabilities, or the very first beast they stumbled upon would devour them both.

”All right.”

Dante rose from the platform. He walked to the center of the pump house, where a ten-foot cleared space stretched between the platform and the rear wall. The wall was made of solid brick covered in a thick layer of coarse gray plaster.

”First things first: resources.” Dante raised his left hand, splaying his fingers. ”You have twenty-six hit points and ten Mana. I have twelve hit points and forty-five Mana. My physical strength is garbage. If I punch you in the face, I’m the one breaking my hand.”

Maria let out a sharp chuckle through her nose. ”I knew that much already.”

”My strength comes from aether conversion.” He ignored her mockery and pointed his right index finger at the plastered wall six feet away. ”The first spell is fast. It’s called Aether Dart.”

He drew energy from his soul core. The sensation felt like siphoning ice-cold fluid from the center of his chest and channeling it through the tendons of his arm to the tips of his fingers.

[Casting: Aether Dart.]

[Mana Cost: 5 points.]

[Current Reserve: 40/45.]

A pinpoint of brilliant blue light flared at the tip of his index finger, buzzing with a shrill electric hum.

Dante released the energy.

The projectile shot out in a dead-straight line, trailing a thin streak of ozone-scented vapor through the air of the pump house. The bolt slammed into the masonry wall with a dry crack, like a stone fired from a heavy slingshot. Flakes of gray plaster sprayed outward, and a crater the size of a coin gouged into the brick, puffing a wispy wisp of black smoke.

Maria’s eyes widened slightly. She took two steps over to the wall, touched the tip of her finger to the fresh hole, and felt the lingering warmth of the crumbled stone.

”That punches through brick?”

”It does,” Dante replied, dropping his hand. ”And it shreds the meat of small beasts. That was what bought me half a second to escape the Crawler on Saturday. But the damage is concentrated. If it’s a large creature or has thick hide, it’s only good for drawing attention or blinding an eye.”

”How much of that energy does it take to shoot one?”

”Five points out of forty-five. I can loose nine darts in a row before running my reserves dry.”

Maria nodded, committing the numbers to memory. ”And the other thing?”

Dante’s expression darkened. ”That’s the main issue with my current class.”

He stepped back, positioning himself in the center of the open floor.

”Lesser Creation Bond.” He spoke the command mentally, throwing open the floodgates of his arcane core.

The drain was brutal. Forty Mana points vanished in a single pull, setting his temples throbbing with a dull ache and making his knees tremble slightly from the sudden loss of vital energy.

[Casting: Lesser Creation Bond.]

[Mana Cost: 40 points.]

[Current Reserve: 0/45.]

The air between Dante and Maria shuddered. Fine filaments of bluish light sprouted from the dirt floor, weaving through the air like spun glass until coalescing into the solid silhouette of a four-legged creature.

The construct was the size of a medium hound, but bore no fur, eyes, or ears. Its form was sculpted entirely from a semitransparent mass of pure energy that rippled gently, preserving its rigid shape through constant internal tension. Its paws ended in blunt claws of ether, and its flattened skull featured only a horizontal slit functioning as a jaw.

The creature stood motionless on the ground, without breathing, awaiting its creator’s mental intent.

Maria circled the construct, inspecting every inch with raw curiosity. She reached out and touched the creature’s flank.

The surface felt cold and dense, like compressed heavy rubber.

”Feels heavy,” Maria remarked.

”It carries the density of my mind merged with ether,” Dante panted, hand braced on his hip, feeling the shakiness in his knees. ”It lasts until destroyed or until I dismiss the form. But take a look at my Mana bar.”

He allowed the system to project the values for her to see.

[Mana Points: 0/45.]

”I’m completely dry,” Dante explained, gesturing to the blue creature. ”If this thing gets shredded in battle, I don’t have the juice to conjure another one right away. My Mana takes about an hour to recover ten points without potions or proper rest. Which means if we get into a fight, I get one shot at dropping a shield on the field.”

Maria stepped squarely in front of the construct, sank into a squat, and planted both palms against the light-forged creature’s chest.

”Let me try something.”

She drew a deep breath, dug her heels into the dirt, and shoved.

The muscles in her arms bunched beneath the thin fabric of her tank top. A faint, almost imperceptible silver glimmer flashed along the soles of her old sneakers as the passive skill [Unshakable Stance] triggered under the strain.

Dante’s construct dug all four paws into the ground, its blue energy flaring brighter to resist the shove.

A second of dead heat hung between them. The joints in Maria’s fingers cracked under the force. Then, with a dry scrape of displaced air, Maria heaved her shoulders forward in a sharp thrust.

The forty-Mana construct skidded backward, all four limbs furrowing the dirt until its hindquarters thudded against the corner of the concrete platform.

Dante’s eyes went wide.

The creature had not shattered, but she had physically shoved a compact mass of pure arcane force using nothing more than the raw leverage of her twelve Strength points.

Maria blew air out through her mouth, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

”It can take a hit,” she gave her verdict, glancing at the construct as it settled back into stillness. ”But if something heavier than me comes along, it’s getting thrown.”

”That Crawler had twice your strength,” Dante reminded her, straightening his posture so as not to look rattled by her display. ”It tore open this construct’s flank in three seconds.”

”Because the thing was fighting alone.” Maria walked up to him, stopping inches away and staring dead into his eyes. ”Now you’ve got me.”

She pointed at the construct, then over to the wall where the Aether Dart had blasted a hole through the plaster.

”The plan is simple, smoke boy. Next time we step into that hell, you aren’t running like a headless chicken. You put this blue dog on the ground to pull the monster’s attention. When the beast jumps the dog, I come in from the side and break its leg with an iron rod. And if it tries turning on you, you poke its eye out with that blue dart.”

Dante stared at the girl for long seconds.

The logic was blunt, stripped of fancy jargon and complex mana-per-second equations. But it worked. It was the most elementary application of a basic party formation: tank, crowd control, and backline DPS.

A thin, sharp smirk began curling Dante’s lips.

”You talk as if killing an infernal abomination is easy.”

”Easier than dragging that wheelbarrow full of scrap up a hill,” she shot back instantly, snatching up the second juice box resting on the concrete. ”Now dismiss that glowing dog, you look like a walking corpse you’re so pale.”

Dante closed his eyes and severed the upkeep stream. The blue creature disintegrated into dozens of fine motes that dissolved in the pump house air before reaching the ground.

The midday silence settled once more between the gray concrete walls.

”When are we going?” Maria asked, punching the plastic straw into the second juice box.

Dante glanced toward the crack in the iron door, where bright sunlight washed over the parched dirt.

”Tonight. Midnight sharp. Bring an iron pipe or anything that can crush bone.”