Condemned Book 5: A Progression Fantasy LitRPG Series (Lord Valevsky: Last of the Line)

By Vasily Mahanenko

A tournament to name the best mage in the empire. What could go wrong when everything is carefully planned down to the last detail, and only the best of the best are invited to participate? The answer is obvious: everything!

Once again, Maximilian Valevsky will have to save everyone to preserve the integrity of the empire. This time, however, forces far more powerful than anything he has encountered before have taken an interest in his affairs.

What will Maximilian do? Will he back down, or will he remember the main maxim of the doomed soldiers? Do or die! Die, but save!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Magic Dome Books
• Release date: Mar 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9788076934214

Book preview

Vasily Mahanenko

Condemned

Book 5

Lord Valevsky: Last of the Line

A Progression Fantasy Series

Published by Magic Dome Books

Condemned Book 5: A Progression Fantasy Series

(Lord Valevsky: Last of the Line)

Copyright © V. Mahanenko 2024

Cover Art © Lunar 2024

Cover Design V. Manyukhin

English translation copyright © Taylor Elise Margvelashvili 2024

Published by Magic Dome Books, 2024

All Rights Reserved

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 return to Shop and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental..

New and upcoming releases from

Magic Dome Books:

If you like our books and want to keep reading, download our FREE Publisher's Catalog, a must-read for any LitRPG fan which lists some of the finest works in the genre:

Tales of Wonder and Adventure: The Best of LitRPG, Fantasy and Sci-Fi (Publisher's Catalog)

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

About the Author

Chapter 1

No anchor point detected.

Current location pinpointed.

Nearest transport hub identified.

Redirection in progress.

THE NOTIFICATIONS CAME one after the other, forcing me to push down the pain radiating through my body and concentrate on the text. Despite the fact that I had never received messages like this before, I intuitively gleaned the meaning. The dark transport network didn’t want to send me to some distant location, deciding to limit me to the nearest node. This is exactly what Gorbunov Sr. spoke of when boasting about his master’s mandate. The dark ones do what they please in the land of the light, and no one can stop them. Why? Because no one wants to! Because it’s to everyone’s benefit to simply turn a blind eye and take their cut of the profit. Empires, churches and academies alike.

Finally, the surrounding mist began to thicken, transforming into the all-too-familiar portal archway. The Wave that rampaged through the rift under the academy was summoned through one like this. The pain intensified and a bloody haze began to obscure my vision. My ears rang, but I was able to make out the worried cries:

Incoming! We need an inspector! There’s a wounded man!

Something touched my leg and I nearly lost consciousness, but soon a pleasant warmth flowed throughout my body. I felt the sensation, but barely registered as my mouth was pried open and a recovery elixir was poured in. Not just one, judging by the effect it produced, but several at once. The sharp pain subsided, becoming a dull, but quite tolerable ache. The bloody veil fell from my eyes, and I was able to see three men. One was pointing a crossbow at me, the second was stretching out both hands, ready to cast a spell, and the third was holding his temples and standing with his eyes closed. There was a fourth man who was actively helping me recover, but I couldn’t see him. The body of the elder Gorbunov was lying next to me, as was the altar. The stone statue had flown off to one side and toppled over, but showed no sign of damage.

Dark, said the man, removing his hands from his temples. He’s definitely dark. There’s no mistake about that.

Thank Skron, muttered the man with the crossbow. Can you hear us, son? Can you talk?

Yes and yes, I said, deactivating my katars. The blades withdrew from Gorbunov Sr.’s chest and retracted into their grooves. They recognize me as dark…Should I risk disappointing them when I was in such a deplorable state? No, I needed to milk the situation for all it was worth. If so, I needed to pretend that I was a pretty big deal. My conversations with Adeline of the Bartolomeo Clan were not wasted—I now knew quite a lot about the dark ones. Struggling, I tried to sit up. I couldn’t do it on my own, but the healer helped. He looked like a simple, unremarkable bald man in a white coat, but I just barely managed to resist activating the katars and trying to kill the bastard. His eyes were as black as darkness itself, and such a dense, dark fog swirled around his body that it looked like a second skin. He was a true dark one. Adeline had had the same black eyes before she’d received the development crystal. I looked bitterly at my mana bar—only twelve units left. Not enough to cast Analyze. It just wasn’t enough. I reached for my belt, but my hand was immediately intercepted.

What do you think you’re doing?

My mana’s at zero. I need to restore it.

Not so fast, boy. First explain the little scene you’ve made here. Who are you, and what in Light’s name caused you to appear before us in such a state, and with such cargo to boot? Why is this corpse wearing armor? And why do you have wounds from guards' spears?

Should I answer them in order or can I pick and choose? I asked. The map had already flashed before my eyes, clearly showing that I was in the south of the central region, in the village of Borderside. In the very center of the village, in a huge house not far from the central square. The map doesn’t lie. The central region again!

Ah, he can crack wise, means he must be alive, the healer said. Why don’t you go in order?

Alright. The little scene I’ve made here is the result of a battle with the Emperor’s guards. My name is Max Moises, Gourfan Clan. I’m in such a state because they betrayed us and wanted to destroy us to seize the cargo. Actually, that’s the cargo you see here. A development altar. Along with one particularly rowdy sentry, but he was not meant to be included with the original cargo. By decree of the highest hierarchs of Skron, I was entrusted with the honor of delivering the altar of development to this point in the transport network in order to develop it to a new level. The corpse is in steel armor because he was a guardsman who specialized in fighting mages. One of my assistants, whose puppet opened the portal, decided to play his own game. He sent his lackeys towards me and called in whole hordes of guards. I had to fight them all at once. Actually, that’s why I’m so beat up—the guards are still monstrously strong creatures. But it’s no big deal, I just need to restore mana and contact the curator. The Gourfan Clan does not forgive betrayal.

How will you contact them? We have no free converts.

Why would I need a convert? I have my own lines of communication. I tore off the sleeve that had been damaged by the guard’s spear, displaying the communication symbol inflicted upon me by Magister Meram. This seemed to convince them. Unsubstantiated prattle was one thing, but demonstration of a unique sigil was another. As Adeline said, not every clan could afford to use the services of a gray master.

Are you planning to turn our village into a transshipment base? The surprise in the healer’s voice was sincere.

The territory has been determined, the Rift Master will be brought over soon, I confirmed. Is that it? Did I pass the test? If so, I need full healing, food, a warm bath and clothes. Mine are a little worse for wear, as you can see. Don’t touch the guard—I brought him with me to process him. This light one had some tricks that were too good to pass up. He managed to pique my interest. I’ll also need a place to set up the development altar. I assume the whole village has already gathered here to touch the stone. Is there a place to block its influence? The Gourfan Clan is not going to give away its power for free to the first chums it meets. I think whoever proves his worth may count themselves among the petitioners for our clan. As for representatives of other clans, we may consider the possibility of transferring to ours without going through the humiliating petition process.

The last I directed at the healer. A dark one like him had to belong to a clan, I was sure of it. Judging by the way the lightning flashed in his black eyes, he’d already begun scheming about how to make it into the top clan.

We can put the altar in the treasury, he suggested, and a look of surprise shot across the faces of the other three.

In the treasury? Are we permitted to open it without an inspector?

Magister Max of the Gourfan Clan is correct. You feel the altar’s influence yourself. If it draws you in so well, what will it do to the villagers? No, we can’t take any risks. No one can find out that a thing of such value has fallen into our hands. Once we become a transshipment base, then we can permit ourselves to display the altar in the open. But not before!

Yes, Magister Fahreng, nodded the security outfit, at the same time demonstrating who was really in charge in this village. My body was filled with warmth, and I watched in amazement as the terrible wound on my thigh began to heal. A similar metamorphosis occurred on my shoulder. Ten quick seconds and there was suddenly no trace of the terrible wounds inflicted by the minotaurs’ spears. The dark healer had to down three whole bottles of mana in the process, but he didn’t become a rag doll like Magister Smalog had at the academy. The dark healer handled the procedure easily, limited only by the amount of mana available to him.

An ability stone? No doubt about it!

Finally, I reached for my elixir and, having restored my full mana bar, immediately spent it on the healer.

Dark Magister Fahreng

As I had suspected, the healer didn’t have too many points in his development model. A few went towards physical development, some towards mana. Judging by the fact that he’d spent some on Increase Ability Damage, the dark healer was moving through the cells, searching for the Restore Mana parameter. But, as I could see, he hadn’t found it yet. Evidently he was digging in the wrong direction. However, his magic field offered several surprises. The foundation was a tenth-level Heal stone ability with three facets. Not bad for a doctor in a run-down, podunk village! But it wasn’t even the ability itself that interested me, but rather the Reflection Blocker support stone. The same thing that allowed the doctor not to waste his own life force on treatment. The treatment also had an Amplify, which had allowed the dark one to cope with my wounds so quickly. Among the attack stones there was the classic Fireball, which was not particularly interesting, but the reason why the healer had to gulp down mana potions suddenly became clear. Half of his reserve was eaten away by the Dark Blessing aura, which significantly enhanced the parameters of all dark creatures within a decent radius. Despite his position as a healer, Magister Fareng was evidently a force to be reckoned with. And clearly not the bottom of the totem pole at this particular transport hub.

Should I start getting aggressive? No, it was still too early. Rather than calling in the heavy cavalry in the form of Alia and her clerics, I should do a deep dive into this place the dark one had called the treasury.

Rising to my feet, I did a few circular motions, testing out my body. Amazingly, the healer had managed to restore me to perfect condition—not even a scar remained! Although I was starving. No—positively famished! It felt like my stomach was digesting itself.

Follow me, Magister. Fahreng heard the gurgling and interpreted it correctly. Recovering always drains your strength, and we were actually just about to have supper. May I suggest you break bread with us, Magister Max?

With great pleasure! I made no pretenses and spent the next ten minutes filling my belly. My body absorbed and digested food with amazing speed. Judging by the warmth spreading through my muscles, the healing process had also treated my habitual scrawniness. Magister Fahreng had managed to correct this issue as well.

What news from Karukse? He asked cautiously as soon as the food ran out. I hadn’t had my fill, but it simply ran out! First time in my life!

First let’s deal with the altar, then we’ll talk. For now, I can only tell you about the former transshipment base. Did you hear what happened to the estate in the northwestern region? The light ones destroyed a Rift Master, and the Fog of Pharapho appeared in the ruins not far from the estate. Several teams of scholars had to pass through this transport node.

The Fog of Pharapho, within the Walls? Fahreng was surprised. I was wondering why so many teams of scholars came through here. Didn’t the Gourfans send someone there too?

Yes, as far as I know, young Svirella and her puppets were going to take part in this event, but I don’t know whether Gerard let her go or not. Unfortunately, I don’t have this information.

Ms. Svirella did use our transport hub, Fareng confirmed. I’m sorry, Magister Max, that I must constantly test you. Your sudden appearance was too unusual. This has never happened before in living memory.

I’ve also never in living memory been betrayed by those close to me, I grinned back. But, like a great man once said, there’s a first time for everything. Give me a couple of minutes—I want to remove the stones from the sentry. Then you can do whatever you want with his body.

I’ll arrange for a bath and clothes, Fareng nodded. I'll be with you in five minutes.

I returned to the square where the portal stood and examined the deactivated archway. So this was how the dark ones were traveling through the lands of the light! Very convenient! Their own little village, where there was always a horse and cart ready if needed. The dark ones worked, paid taxes, participated in various activities, and no one in the whole world had any idea what was happening under their very noses. A transport network! This was not a single point, but a whole set of interconnected places, the functionality of which was maintained by the minotaur guards. Already I knew enough to make a splash in the Fortress, but it still wasn’t enough to satisfy my own convictions. If I was going to take down the network, I needed to cover the whole thing. Or at least a few nodes. This would greatly undermine the capabilities of the dark ones in the Zarak Empire.

So for now, I wouldn’t rock the boat and would pretend that I was a bigwig from the top dark clan in the land. And past that, whatever would be would be.

Dash, Insidious Strike and Daze, the baron’s elite stones, I immediately tucked into a special pocket where I kept all my most precious stones. The remaining trifles, although valuable, were useless to me due to the limitations of my magic field. So into the backpack they went, to join the large collection of stones that were already in there. Just in case, I checked the old man's eyes—they were as normal as any person's. It was impossible to visually identify the darkness in him, so my story wouldn’t be ruined.

Soon they came for me, and I grabbed the altar, as Adeline had, and followed my escort. I wouldn’t give such a precious thing up to anyone now. This eighth-level development altar wasn’t going to lie around in some bush. I was taken to a neighboring house, where a large basin of water had already been prepared. The clothes they brought me were not much like the ones I was used to, but I had no choice—the huge holes in the previous ones were beyond mending. One nice feature was the inner pockets for valuables, into which I loaded my belongings.

Follow me, Magister. You're right—the altar must be hidden. There has already been unrest in the village. The puppets began to completely lose their minds. If it's no secret, what level is the altar?

I do not have the right to disclose that information, I replied. But no one will prohibit me from saying it’s well above a three. I presume you understand.

Well above, Fahreng sighed heavily. "A development altar well above level three. The Gurfanov clan once again proves its greatness. Wait here, I need to deactivate the defenses. The entrance to the treasury is guarded.

We approached an inconspicuous barn. Outwardly, it was no different from similar ones scattered throughout the village, but as soon as the dark one opened the door, two spears blocked his path. The guards inside were ready for any surprise. Judging by how precisely they carried out their duties, they were converts. They were the only ones who executed Skron's orders without question or hesitation.

We went down the stairs, where we stopped at a massive metal door with a strange wheel lock mechanism. Fahreng pressed various bricks to the right and left of the doors and several clicks sounded out. Taking a huge key from his pocket, the doctor inserted it into the keyhole, then turned the lever clockwise. There was another click, after which he turned the key to the right and the lever to the left. There were several more such manipulations, and at some point I lost track of the sequence. Finally, there was one last click and the door opened slightly. With effort, Fahreng pushed the door aside to reveal a small, dark room.

I’ll light the lamp now, he said, but I beat him to it, pulling out a light crystal from my backpack. Judging by the way his breath quickened, I had once again passed some kind of internal test.

A Gourfan crystal, he said with something other than reverence. I’ve heard about them many times, but I’ve never seen them up close. It really is like a little sun! Amazing! Wait a moment, let me deactivate the booby traps.

Fahreng entered first, following a route known only to him. After several clicks on the opposite wall, and finally he said:

You can stick the development altar here. There just happens to be a free shelf!

I entered the room and looked around. The walls, floor and ceiling of the small room were made of durable steel. Each wall had shelves, the lower of which were occupied by chests of imperial gold. On others lay some books, boxes, a scattered array of crystals, and a separate shelf holding various vials. The room was very similar to what I had seen in the basement of the destroyed dark mansion, except larger. It was hard for me to determine the value of certain items, but I understood one thing—I couldn’t let the door close. I’d never be able to repeat the sequence to open it.

Where? I asked, moving closer. He pointed to the shelf again and stepped out of my way, and as soon as I placed the altar in the indicated spot, the reality Fahreng had known ceased to exist. I desperately wanted to interrogate him. To find out what and how was going on in this Light-forsaken place, but I knew perfectly well that I would be given no such opportunity. This dark one would die before betraying his ideals. And if that was the case…

Fahreng’s body collapsed to the floor and began to convulse. Despite his tough-guy exterior, this particular subject failed to hold his own against a ninth-level rift beast. I acted without any unnecessary emotion or hesitation—a single blow to the temple cut short the life of this dark nobleman, sending his soul to where it so longed to be—to Skron. Tearing his chest open, I removed the valuable stones and, unable to discern which was responsible for what, tossed them all in my secret pocket. I’d deal with these strange little octahedrons later. I grabbed the altar, dragged it to the door and propped it open, just in case. According to the elder Gorbunov, this hunk of rock was quite difficult to break, so it would work perfectly as a wedge.

I then returned to the shelves and began a systematic study. I didn’t touch the gold—it would be a pain to drag all the chests along with me. I paid most attention to books and a stack of papers that lay in their own separate folder. After reading several pages, my breath grew heavy. Evidently, I now had some good dirt on Kimal Sarento. Some of the shipping bills bore his signature. The trade flow with the darkness passed through this hub. It was one thing to know about it and another to have documented evidence.

Hey, Alia! I said, holding my hand up to the sigil. For a while I smiled like a fool in anticipation of her response, but none came! Alia, are you okay? Are you sleeping? Alia?

After about a minute I began to worry—my personal attendant still hadn’t replied. No matter how many times I called, nothing. I was about ready to drop everything and go to Turb as quickly as possible to deal with whatever was going on when my gaze fell on the massive steel door. Big fat moron! I was surrounded by steel! Why did I think that magical communication was any different from other magic? I had taken our constant connection for granted, but now I relaxed. And this was better, after all—I had learned of another limitation that needed to be taken into account. Stepping out of the treasury, I once again put my hand on my shoulder, and this time the answer came almost instantly:

Hey! Any news? Did you find the bloodhound?

We did, I replied. And I’ve got loads of news. I don’t even know where to start.

Think on it for now, I’ve got news too. And not the best kind. Turns out Count Nikitin was deprived of the title of Duke of Turb, after which he, his family, as well as a dozen people loyal to him, including Viscount Kurpatsky, were sentenced to death. Tomorrow they’ll give the official announcement.

Officially? Do you have your own mole close to the emperor? How are you privy to official information before it’s released?

The decision to execute was made collectively. By Emperor Zurgan the First, the High Priest and the chancellor of the magic academy. It was a unanimous decision—all three voted to take the count’s life. There was a discussion about whether it was worth sending him to the doomed legion, but it was agreed that in this case, they need not follow the letter of the law to a T. The announcement that Count Nikitin is a traitor and defector will be made tomorrow morning. The High Priest knows you are fond of this man, and that you’re on friendly terms with the Viscount Kurpatsky, so he conveyed this information to me. So that I can prepare you.

I see…where are you now, Alia?

I just left Father Urg’s office, I’m going to the estate.

"Turn around. I have an offer that the triumvirate can’t refuse. I am going to ransom the life of Count Nikitin and all his people. There are too few truly light ones in our empire to throw them away willy-nilly.

Max, it’s impossible. Even if you can convince the High Priest, you will never convince the Emperor!

Alia, when did you start doubting my abilities? Turn around and go see Father Urg. Start with him.

And what exactly is your proposal? She clearly doubted my intelligence, but she didn’t contradict me. I'm here. The High Priest is staring at me as if he doesn’t understand why I’m distracting him from his evening meal.

It’s simple. Just tell him three words: dark transport network. I know where one of the transport hubs of this network is located, and I am ready to hand it over to the Fortress in exchange for the life of Count Nikitin and his people.

Max...You can't bargain with such information! Alia was indignant.

"I can and will! I will not allow a person I know to be destroyed just because he honored his oaths to the last. If the Fortress wants to fulfill its purpose, if it really wants to fight the dark ones, and not those