Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG

The gaps between the first few buildings were close enough that most Users even partially specced into Agility could have covered the gaps easily. This last one however, was significantly longer. I’d had Audrey—my flowerfang summon—fashion a makeshift harness for Iris, using her mostly thornless mobility vines. My sister had fallen silent since the Minotaur Chimera’s interception, and despite a reasonable fear of heights, hadn’t reacted to any of it.

I pinwheeled on the loose gravel of a rooftop, balance returning to me. Then turned, ready to catch Sae as she leapt across.

Sae cleared the gap easily. She’d put too much energy into the jump if anything, and I grunted as she clung onto my forearm to steady herself, feet sliding across the gravel roofing. Her eyebrows shot up, her mouth set as she saw something behind me. “Bird!”

I spun. The raven shot upward, attempting to hover out of reach. Its wings and oversized body weren’t built for that, so the result was an awkward climb. Still, that climb placed it out of the effective area for my hand-crossbow.

There was a chance I could still draw my bow and make the shot, but if Miles was right that they were communicating, any second now it would broadcast our location to the rest, and we’d be overrun.

No choice.

I didn’t have time to feel it out or test the waters for its reaction to my influence. And as much as I didn’t enjoy using the ability as an answer for everything, nothing else was fast enough.

As of now, I am your favorite human. Do everything you can to help me and mine.

A wave of exhaustion tugged at my eyelids as nearly half my mana drained away. But none of the mental pain from a failed attempt. It’d come down to a wager on whether all the necromancer’s creations had psychic protections, and I’d guessed correctly that the birds would be more simple than their human counterparts.

The bird swooped down and landed.

It hopped frantically on the gravel and cawed at us angrily, flapping its wings and kicking up dust. For a moment I thought it had shrugged off the effects of the spell, or that it had some sort of resistance that kicked in, before I realized it was pushing us towards the roof access structure.

“Matt? Is it about to peck our eyes out or do you have it?” Sae yelled.

“Got it. Get inside!” I shouted, twisting the push down handle and throwing my shoulder into the door. It swung open, and we both made it in, a second before a handful of massive shadows flitted over the rooftops.

The raven I’d subjugated was too big to enter, but it pressed itself against the open door, shielding us from view. After the danger passed, it stuck its considerable head through the door and stared at us with all five eyes. Then tapped its beak on the concrete with a considerable click.

When no one reacted, it tapped its beak again. Then spoke aloud, its voice hoarse and raspy. “Treat.”

What?

It tapped its beak again, and I could have sworn I detected a trace of sass. “Good bird. Treat.”

Interesting. It’d been trained with traditional positive reinforcement, either before or after it was super-sized and sprouted extra eyeballs. That added to the likelihood its necromancer master was User, rather than system created.

Technically, I didn’t have to give it anything. The Raven was caught in the thrall of subjugation, so it would listen and implement anything I said and take it as gospel. Even if I told the monster it no longer desired treats, or to forget how to fly. Under the effect of any creature or person would follow my commands to the letter for the next day, with all the capacity for potential misuse that implied.

Whether it was a monster or a human, I didn’t want to go that route.

Instead, I pulled one of the many filets I kept on hand in my inventory out, and tossed it to the creature. And another. Then one for Audrey, when she started whining about the “Stupid bird eating her meat.”

The raven snatched the steak from the ground and turned its head upward, gobbling it down and chortling with pleasure, clearly enjoying the meal.

Mindful of my younger sister strapped to my back, I reached out to the Raven with more to communicate than influence. It had a sharp mind for an animal, and as I’d suspected, it wasn’t enslaved. It was trained.

In exactly a day, the influence I hold over you will fade. You will regain your faculties and your will. And naturally, you’ll be angry. However, I want you to remember this moment. You attacked me first. Yet I saved you from the consequences of that. Rewarded you for your help, despite your transgressions. And if you enjoy the deliciousness of the reward as much as you appear to be, perhaps you should contrast your experience here with what would have happened if your master was in my place. And know, that if you choose to serve me, there are many rewards yet to come.

I’d used a version of this on a handful of human and monster test cases and received positive results. The additional prompting I was doing had to be more subtle on a human, but I found more direct language helped. would translate my words into an amalgam of thoughts and ideas the target was more likely to understand, but it couldn’t guarantee that understanding.

It stopped mid-chew of the second filet, swallowing. Its intelligent eyes seemed troubled. Then, the moment passed, and it tapped its beak again.

I tossed it a third slab of meat, then withdrew a fourth, much to Audrey’s dismay. I withheld the final slab, tearing raw pieces off as I went.

“How many are there?”

The raven leaned backward doing something unseen then placing a pile of gravel. It used large pieces as markers, counting to nine until it shoved a pile of gravel in from the roof.

A lot.

“Any chance you can speak your master’s name?”

The raven huffed.

That’s a no.

I ran through a few more questions with mixed results until I came to the final query.

“We have some ground to cover. This is a lot to ask, but now that we’ve bonded, any chance you can provide oversight? Help protect us from threats on the ground and steer the other flocks away before they see us.”

A hesitation.

“More… treats?” It turned its head to either side, listening carefully for an answer.

“Oh, yes.”

A confident squawk gave me my answer.