Hive Knight: A Dark Fantasy LitRPG (Trinity of the Hive Book 1) by Grayson Sinclair (black authors fiction txt) 📕

A high-pitched growl came from the kitchen, and a second ghoul stalked around the corner, its ice-blue eyes dripping with hunger.

Micah cried out with fear, and that broke the spell on us. Mom turned to us and nearly tackled us out of the doorway. We fell back off the porch and hit the gravel driveway hard. I stumbled up faster than Micah, while Mom stood in the doorway frantically attempting to reload.

The ghoul savored the hunt, inching forward a step at a time. Just as mom grabbed a handful of bullets from her pocket, it howled. The suddenness caused her to flinch, sending half a dozen rounds clattering to the floor like drops of rain.

Mom tossed the empty handgun at the thing in desperation, it went wide, bouncing off the wall. She hurriedly shut the door as the ghoul lunged, smashing into the door with a crack. The wood tore like cardboard, but it held. She threw her shoulder against it and screamed at us to run. I yanked Micah’s hand, and we took off into the night.

With a howl of rage, the ghoul shredded the remains of our door, and I looked back to see my mother lying on the porch amid broken planks of wood as the ghoul opened its mouth wide, thousands of needles glistened as it bit into my mother, her blood spraying in the air to coat what remained of our doorway. I swallowed my bile and pulled Micah along even faster.

We didn’t get very far.

Voices too loud next to me brought me out of the memory. “Shit, get him a potion quick!” someone shouted.

The voice was low and deep. Must be Gil. My body wasn’t responding anymore; I was cold, and my fingers wouldn’t work properly. Someone turned me over into the sun’s blinding light. I closed my eyes to shield myself and couldn’t find the strength to open them again.

Chapter 9 - Unexpected Guest

I awoke with a headache. If you could call the blinding pain that was currently using my head for sword practice as such. From the warm light streaming through the open window, I could tell it was late afternoon, at least. Though I couldn’t know if I’d been unconscious for a few hours or a few days.

The events of the day raced through my mind. I sat up swiftly, which did nothing but add to my misery. Nausea, cold chills, and the most mind-numbing headache possible formed the basis for my current state of being. I tried to get out of bed, but the thin bedsheet got tangled around my legs, and I fell onto the floor with a dull thud.

After five agonizing minutes of my face kissing stone, I tried to sit up again, this time much slower. I was in the infirmary. However, none of our medical staff were present, which was unusual. It must be dinner time.

With none of our admittedly cute nurses to scold me for what I was about to do, I went over to the medicine cabinet, opened it, and took out a cloth bag of cure powder. With a large pinch, double or triple the recommended dose, I went over to the large granite sink on the far wall, past the small row of pristine white cots.

Searching through the alchemy bench led me to my prize, and I grabbed a large glass beaker and poured it full of whiskey. I downed the cure powder with a grimace, followed with a hefty swig of liquor.

The sharp bite of the alcohol did little to mask the chalky and bitter powder. I gulped down the rest of my drink and poured another, it would help keep the headache at bay. While not remotely curing me of the potion sickness, my homemade remedy would help me manage the pain enough to bear moving.

I opened the wooden door that led to the hallway and stepped outside, nearly running into one of the maids.

“Pardon me, sir.”

I smiled at her. “Its fine, Ruby.”

She curtsied and walked around me, immediately focusing on her cleaning duties.

My interface told me it was just past five-thirty in the evening, so everyone would be dining. I walked out toward the main hall. Bright red rugs and golden tapestries accented the cool tones of the dark stone walls and ceiling with torch sconces placed between the fabric. The bright colors gave the castle a warm and comfortable atmosphere.

I hadn’t the heart to change the color scheme from the previous owners. The Gloom Knights’ guild colors were black and purple, but one glance at the gray stone, and I’d known that those colors wouldn’t work.

I’d planned to head up to my room immediately, but a deep rumbling from my stomach brought food to the forefront of my thoughts. I stopped by the kitchen, not even trying to find a place to sit in the dining hall. I grabbed a plate full of chicken and pork, scarfing it down and finishing my beaker of whiskey.

With my belly no longer screaming in protest, I went to check the loot room.

There were a hundred other things I’d rather do than sort through the spoils of war, but Wilson would bitch at me in the morning if I didn’t do it tonight.

As I stepped into the basement, I was met with an ostentatious display. The entire lower level of the castle housed our loot room. A heavy metal door dominated the hallway. It was made of reinforced Aldrustian steel and looked like an old-world bank vault—and it could only be opened by a unique key. While the door itself was impressive and expensive, it was nothing compared to the floor guardians.

Whenever I visited, I couldn’t help but appreciate the two massive creations on either side of the vault. Next to the door were two giant figures. Crystalline golems. Both standing nearly ten feet tall,