《Atone Online》


 Introduction

    As the cold metal syphon plunged deep into my brainstem, I felt the indifferent embrace of death engulf me. Well, sort of. Physically, I was dead, that much was obvious. But mentally? That was a whole different story.


    I wasn¡¯t especially savvy when it came to the ins and outs of the cerebral digitization process, but I understood enough to know that my thoughts had become little more than a stream of programming code. Lost and confused, I¡¯d tried in vain to piece together the fragments of my consciousness, but quickly found myself becoming overwhelmed. It didn¡¯t help that my consciousness was being repeatedly hammered by a wall of status messages: cold, dispassionate thoughts that were not my own, all desperately vying for my attention. I stilled my mind and did my best to focus on them one at a time, bringing a small moment of order to the sea of code-based chaos.


    The first message proudly announced that my human consciousness had been successfully reformatted into ¡®personaware¡¯, and that I was being prepared for upload. The second, that I was now being broadcast between two worlds, exiting my broken, meat-based media and beamed out to embrace my exciting new digital future. The third confirmed that I had been successfully uploaded onto something called an ¡®atonement drive¡¯, that my ¡®soul code¡¯ was very important to them, and that they (whoever they were), would be with me shortly. All very comforting, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll agree.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Evidently, I was on a journey. And not, I¡¯d hasten to add, one taken through choice. Because you have to make a lot of bad decisions to end up in this situation, and I¡¯m sorry to say that I¡¯d worked my way through every single one of them. Which was why, as they strapped me down and prepared me for my ¡®rebirth¡¯, I didn¡¯t kick, scream or fight it like the poor sod on the ¡®reformatting¡¯ slab next to me. Deep down, I knew that I deserved this. Hell, if you knew what I did to get here, you¡¯d probably say that I deserved a hundred times worse.


    Another status message hit me, confirming that I would soon have the opportunity to choose my avatar. But the words flowed through my mind like grains of sand slipping through an hourglass. Whatever now passed for my brain was quickly overwhelmed. Information was flowing through me, faster than I could ever hope to process it. Dazed, I lost my grip, a lost piece of soul code drowning in a sea of unfamiliar data. Until finally, and without warning, I was offered an anchor.


    -[ Prisoner 903746B1: You have been transferred into the digital custody of your corporate sponsor, Atonement Incorporated. The path to redemption has begun. Welcome to Atone Online ]-

 Chapter 1.1

    They say that every important journey begins with the first step. So, with that particular nugget of wisdom in mind, I reckoned that a pair of legs would probably come in handy, right about now. But with no obvious way to move around, or for that matter, to voice my concerns, my disembodied consciousness had little choice but to hang in the blank, virtual space, wondering what fate (or to be more exact, the game¡¯s programmers) could possibly have in store for it.


    -[ Some disorientation is to be expected as your code aligns itself to our server. Avatar selection will commence shortly. Please remain calm. ]-


    ¡­announced a mysterious higher power.


    My disembodied consciousness was not calm. Far from it, in fact. But at least avatar selection seemed to be fairly self-explanatory. The human mind was not designed to drift around a computer server, like a disembodied ghost in the machine. I needed a body, even if it was merely a digital substitute to take the place of the flesh that had been so cruelly stolen away from me. Soon, it seemed, I would have the opportunity to pick the pixelated puppet I¡¯d be sporting for the foreseeable future. Heck, perhaps even for the rest of my digital ¡®life¡¯. So that begged one important question; why the hell wasn¡¯t anything happening?


    Without warning, yet another message forced itself directly into my mind. I was beginning to wonder if my new digitized form came with its own privacy settings, and if so, how I could gain access...


    -[ Congratulations. You have achieved a cognitive synchronization rate of 82%. This figure is sufficient to achieve mind/avatar harmony. Welcome to avatar selection. ]-


    It¡¯s about fucking time¡­.


    A timer appeared before me, set to five minutes. That small display was promptly joined by three larger, neon panels, each one loaded with reams of tightly packed text.


    -[ You will have ten minutes to choose your avatar, distribute your base points, and purchase any items you might require to aid you in your journey. If an avatar has not been chosen by the end of this time period, a body shall be randomly allocated to you. We wish you every success in your rehabilitation, Jacob. ]-


    Before I could raise any number of questions about that statement, the timer began its countdown. Crap, a help file would really come in real handy, right about now. I didn¡¯t even know how I was supposed to control this damned interface without the aid of a physical body.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Calming myself, I quickly realized that I could open each menu option with little more than a thought, pushing my will onto the display that flickered before me. Regaining this small modicum of control over my destiny was extremely satisfying. I was no longer the puppet. I was finally ready to start pulling the strings. With my small achievement to bolster my confidence, I began randomly opening windows. And holy crap, talk about information overload. There was all manner of races and skill-sets on offer, each with their own individual strengths, weaknesses, and penalties.


    I tried to take in the reams and reams of information, but it was too much for me to process. Concentration was difficult: something that probably had a lot to do with the stress of having my mind literally torn from my screaming body, and callously turned into software. Feeling my control slip again, I began to panic.


    -[ I am sensing stress within your emotional profile. ]-


    ¡­chirped an anonymous AI. Its tone bore little of the concern for my wellbeing that it professed to be voicing.


    -[ Would you like an overview of your available options? ]-


    Yes, I quickly replied. I didn¡¯t know who or for that matter, what the voice belonged to, but I didn¡¯t have time to care. If there was one thing I needed right now, it was a hand. Preferably, a hand with an empty body attached, waiting for me to climb inside it and take it for a test drive.


    -[ Help file activated. ]-


    A female avatar suddenly materialized within my limited field of vision. She was impossibly proportioned, a digital dirty dream with pointy ears, pale skin, and a skimpy leather outfit that barely met the basic requirements of clothing.


    I hope they¡¯re not going to attempt to squeeze me into that. I thought to myself. In fact, if they¡¯re going to pick my new body by delving around in my subconscious, I dread to think what perverted pixel puppet I¡¯m going to end up with.


    ¡°Hi, there,¡± said the elf with a wave. ¡°I¡¯m Mai, your personal selection assistant. I¡¯m here to help.¡± She giggled as she spoke.


    Well, thank fuck for that. Perhaps I wasn¡¯t going to end up in an inappropriately slutty looking avatar after all.


    ¡°Welcome to your personalized redemption experience¡± the elf continued, cheerily. ¡°There are three classes of avatar to choose from, and your choices are as follows¡­¡±


    The ridiculous number of windows I¡¯d opened hastily closed themselves, leaving only the three original panels. Their headings were ¡®blade class¡¯, ¡®arcane class¡¯, and ¡®inhuman class¡¯.


    ¡°Which category would you like to study first?¡± Giggled the elf, jiggling her unnaturally large breasts as she bounced on the spot.


    I knew which avatar I really wanted to study, but this was no time for such perversion. I had a serious job at hand. So, I picked one and began the selection process. Not that I knew it yet, but it was a choice that would ultimately shape my odds of survival in this damned piece of software.


    And I was about to royally fuck it up.

 Chapter 1.2

    Start with blade class, I ordered, reasoning that it would be the easiest category to get my non-caporal head around.


    ¡°You got it.¡± replied the elf, with a warm smile. Yup, there was no denying it. I definitely had an elf fetish. ¡°Your blade class choices are as follows. Option one. A sexy human swordsman¡­¡±


    She emphasized the word sexy. What did she think she was trying to sell me, a new sports car?


    ¡°This is a redemption class avatar,¡± she continued, excitedly. ¡°Its greatest advantage is its natural proficiency in sword-based combat¡­¡±


    Well, no surprises there, I thought to myself.


    ¡°The avatar¡¯s greatest weakness is its total reliance on physical attributes, requiring all non-physical skills to be upgraded manually. As the weakest of the sword class options, this form comes with no additional reputation penalty.¡±


    Seems straightforward enough¡­


    ¡°Option two,¡± she continued, barely stopping to take a breath, ¡°is a big buff human barbarian. This is a standard class avatar. His greatest advantage comes from his enhanced physical power, increased endurance and naturally sexy bod. The avatar¡¯s greatest weakness, however, comes from its inability to wield magical attacks without the aid of specially empowered items. Be warned, despite their hunky appearance, barbarians have a lower social standing than swordsmen. Choosing this avatar comes with a penalty of an additional five reputation points.¡±


    Okay, the undercurrent of flirting is really starting to confuse me now¡­ and what¡¯s all this about a rep penalty?


    ¡°Option three,¡± she continued, ¡°is a bad-boy human rogue. This cheeky chappie is an underworld class avatar. His greatest advantage comes from his instant access to the thievery and sneak attack skills. However, the rogue is physically the weakest of all blade specialists, and is ill-equipped for melee combat. Be warned, rogues are generally frowned upon by other players, and the suspicion they generate comes at the cost of ten reputation points.¡±


    Mai took another moment to jiggle, because why not, and then continued.


    ¡°Your fourth and final option from the blade class is the damned knight. This undesirable individual is a fallen class avatar¡­¡±


    She stopped to boo and hiss, giving a frantic thumbs down to the player description. After stopping to blow an oddly comical raspberry at the display, she continued.


    ¡°The damned knight¡¯s greatest strength lies in its physical offense, as its sword strikes are magically reinforced. This bestows the player with the ability to wield a might that is the envy of all other warrior classes. The damned knight¡¯s greatest weakness is his aversion to holy weaponry. Be warned, to choose this avatar is to choose damnation, and this path comes with a twenty redemption point penalty, the highest penalty available.¡±


    Okay, so I think I¡¯m getting this. There¡¯s going to be a tactical element involved in choosing the avatar I enter the game with. In simple terms, I¡¯m choosing the difficulty setting, but like everything else in life, it¡¯s not quite that straightforward. The more shortcuts I take to power, the lower my in-game reputation will be when I start. The strongest option, the so-called ¡®damned knight¡¯ admittedly sounded very tempting. I¡¯d have an obvious strength advantage over the other players with an avatar like that. But how common was holy weaponry, exactly? And if his path to ¡®redemption¡¯ was a hell of a lot steeper, would that twenty point rep penalty see me trapped here a lot longer than I¡¯d like? I needed more information, dammit.


    ¡°Are you ready to choose?¡± asked the elf with a giggle, followed by a jiggle. For an AI performing such an important, (after?) life-changing role, she didn¡¯t seem to be taking my future very seriously.


    ¡°I need more information before I make my decision¡± I declared. I wanted to ask for specifics about the damned knight, but I still had eight other potential avatars to get through. Best to move on, I reckoned, and see how much time I had for questions at the end. Strategy in place, I asked the elf-shaped piece of software to give me a similar rundown of the arcane class avatars.


    ¡°Certainly,¡± the elf replied, adding a mock curtsy that left me staring down her digitally enhanced cleavage. Feeling like a piece of sleazy spyware, I hurriedly shifted my focus to the panels of text.


    ¡°The next category is the arcane class, and your available choices are as follows. Option one is the wizard¡¯s apprentice. This silver fox is a redemption class avatar. His greatest strength comes from his access to a wide variety of non-combat spells, such as healing, illusion and disguise. This in turn presents the trainee wizard¡¯s greatest weakness; his magical skills, being more complex and varied than those of the other arcane classes, are by far the most difficult to level up. Refusing to succumb to the same shortcuts taken by other magic users, the wizard¡¯s apprentice comes with no additional rep penalties. Option two is the gun mage¡­¡±


    The what? And stop bouncing, I¡¯m trying to concentrate, dammit¡­


    ¡°This bad boy is a standard class avatar. Its greatest advantage, besides the obvious gunslinger sex-appeal, is his easy access to projectile magical attacks, which can be summoned by channeling his mana through specially crafted arcane weaponry. His greatest weakness, however, is that he is only capable of casting projectile attack spells. The gun mage¡¯s range of magical knowledge is extremely limited, and his heavy reliance on shortcuts means that he does not command the respect that is often afforded to wizards or their apprentices. Choosing such a path will cost the player five additional reputation points.¡±


    A gun-toting spell-caster? Now that sounded badass. And the rep penalty didn¡¯t seem too high, either. Perhaps it was worth it, if it helped me to access power more easily. That said, I didn¡¯t know the first thing about the path to ¡®redemption¡¯ that lay ahead of me. All that I could tell from these options, was that I was going to have to fight for it. And that left me wondering: could I afford to saddle myself with a penalty at all?


    ¡°Option three is the warlock.¡± Continued Mai, gesturing toward the drab text description like an over-excited magician¡¯s assistant. ¡°The warlock is an underworld class avatar. This naughty boy sold himself to the darker forces in exchange for greater access to arcane power. His avatar¡¯s greatest advantage is its instant access to powerful spells normally gained only through study and practice. But this shortcut to power is also the warlock¡¯s greatest weakness. Warlocks have great difficulty learning non-attack spells, as they do not possess the magical acumen of the wizard, relying chiefly on the boons provided by their dark masters. This path lacks the respect afforded to wizards who toil to learn their craft, and many players are wary of those who deal with the darker arts. All this results in a penalty of ten reputation points. Phew. That was a mouthful.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    It was an admittedly interesting selection. I willed the elf to speak again, curious to find out what overpowered shortcut from the fallen class she was going to offer me this time.


    ¡°The final magical class form is the necromancer,¡± she continued. ¡°This smelly individual is a fallen class avatar. Upon spawning, the necromancer is vastly superior in arcane strength to all other magical classes. His greatest advantage comes from his ability to raise corpses into his service. However, the necromancer is physically the weakest of all the magical classes, often relying on his minions to fight his battles for him. Shunned by all other magic users, this avatar comes with a penalty of twenty redemption points.¡±


    More and more patterns were forming. Race classes, rep classes. They¡¯re trying to quickly put us all into boxes, and then judge us accordingly. Atone Online was more like the real world than I¡¯d ever imagined it would be¡­


    The final category only bolstered that theory, being by far the most unusual category. Whereas the first two groupings were fairly rigid in their membership (humans proficient with blades, and humans who were capable of wielding magic), this selection was a hodgepodge of skills and races. The elf began her summaries, and I focused my thoughts, reasoning that this selection would probably require the most scrutiny of all.


    ¡°The final category is the inhuman class.¡± announced Mai. ¡°You may choose from four additional races. Your first option is the dwarf. Dwarves are naturally stronger than humans, slightly more resilient to physical harm, and have limited night vision. Their greatest weakness, however, is their inability to retrieve items from tall shelves.¡±


    What?


    ¡°She laughed to herself. ¡°Only joking. It is true, though.¡±


    ¡°Can you at least try to treat this like the most important decision of my new life?¡± I demanded, somewhat tetchily.


    ¡°Sure thing, boss. Sheesh, I was only trying to lighten the mood, y¡¯know? Anyone would think you¡¯re on death row. Ahem. So, yeah, anyway. Dwarves are better suited to brawling than to technical fighting, and with the exception of axes, have a poor proficiency with weapons. This is a redemption class avatar, and is the weakest of the inhuman options, which means it comes with no penalty. Your next option is the half-orc. Often referred to by the derogatory term ¡®h¡¯orc¡¯ within the world of Atone Online, this individual is a standard class avatar. His greatest advantage is his physical strength and endurance, which surpass even that of the barbarian. Half-orc¡¯s also have the highest resistance to magical attack of all the races and classes available. But be warned, this magical immunity also lies at the heart of the species most glaring weakness. Half-orc¡¯s have absolutely no capacity to wield magic, not even with the aid of empowered weaponry or items. A second-class citizen in a world run by humans, choosing this race will cost you five additional reputation points.¡±


    Physical strength was something I understood. I hadn¡¯t been too shabby in that department IRL, and I knew how to use my fists. But I didn¡¯t like the sound of the ¡®second class citizen¡¯ part. I¡¯d had enough of that too, IRL.


    I looked at the clock. Half my time was gone already, but with only two more options to go, I reasoned that I should have plenty of time to make my choice.


    ¡°The third option is the beastling race.¡± continued the elf. ¡°These ferocious furballs are considered to be an underworld class race, and come with the immediate advantage of not requiring a weapon, due to their powerful claws and savage ferocity. Their greatest disadvantage is their lapdog like status. Bred into servitude, the beastling¡¯s leadership skill is capped at zero. With a reputation for surrendering to its animalistic instincts, this form comes at the cost of ten reputation points.¡±


    It was good to get this chance to study the other races in advance like this. I was going to be sharing my virtual prison with hundreds, perhaps thousands of other ¡®players¡¯ wearing these races, and I was glad to see in advance what my fellow degenerates could be wearing to the ball. But for all my interest, I noticed that Mai was oddly unexcited by this particular category. Hmm, so I guess the non-human types don¡¯t really do it for her like the ¡®sexy¡¯ swordsmen and the buff barbarians, then. Not that I was planning to base my decision on who the horny pretend elf wanted to pretend sleep with¡­ I was much more mature than that. Hey, I totally am, I swear.


    ¡°Your fourth and final option is the demon race,¡± she continued, cutting off my train of thought. ¡°This is a fallen class avatar. Demons possess the speed and claws of a beastling, but with the added advantage of being able to breed their own troops.¡±


    Ewwww. Okay, now that just sounds gross. I was open to becoming a father someday, but giving birth to demon spawn was a whole different matter¡­


    ¡°Demons are also allocated one random ability upon their initial spawning. The creature¡¯s greatest weakness is an unusual one; their ability to inflict damage is greatly influenced by the reputation of the player they¡¯re attacking. Damned from birth, this avatar comes with a twenty redemption point penalty.¡±


    Ruling out the demon on grossness alone, I quickly decided that I didn¡¯t need the temptation of anything that was going to extend my stay in a world populated by such creatures. I didn¡¯t need the extra baggage of a standard, underworld, fallen class avatar, no matter how much they might boost my avatar¡¯s strength, in the short term. Redemption class it was, then.


    ¡°Mai, rule out any avatar that will penalize my rep stats.¡± I commanded, removing the temptation before I had a chance to change my disembodied mind.


    The elf simpered, gave me a chirpy ¡®no problem¡¯, and casually wiped nine options from the board with a flick of her slender wrist.


    The three remaining choices were the swordsman, the wizards apprentice, and the dwarf. As the three weakest avatars on offer, they were going to make things a hell of a lot more difficult for me in the short term, that much was obvious when I weighed them up against my fellow ¡®players¡¯. But my old life had been difficult, too. And I was well used to clawing my way out of the gutter. So what if this particular gutter was a digital dumping ground for a pack of degenerates, thieves and murderers. I¡¯d get stronger, and I¡¯d learn how to survive here. Just like I did IRL.


    ¡°You can now view each avatars properties in detail¡± chirped Mai, as she excitedly skipped around in front of my view like an elf-kangaroo hybrid. ¡°Here¡¯s a sneak peak of what you might eventually look like. Choose well.¡±


    The virtual display quickly began to build three previews of what my new form might look like. It started with spinning wireframe models, before adding layers of texture mapped skin, a pixelated representation of my face, and finally, the garbs of office that went with each role. It was me, times three, spinning like vacant lobotomized mannequins on invisible turntables, as the elf excitedly skipped around them, occasionally stopping to pinch one of my three potential asses.


    I tried not to feel objectified by her behavior. IRL, it was attention that I would have actively encouraged. And besides, none of them were technically my body yet, even if they were all wearing my face. Oh well, the clock was still ticking. There was no time for thoughts about where the inappropriate elf was groping¡­ I had a decision to make. Without further pause, I conducted my own examination. But unlike the elf, I kept my gaze strictly above waistline.


    The first avatar was dressed in a ridiculous-looking hooded robe, so I immediately assumed that had to be the wizard option. The second wore a sleeveless jumpsuit and leather boots. By process of elimination, I decided that he must be the swordsman, because the third and final body was most definitely the dwarf. It was a squashed down version of me, with a greatly exaggerated nose, heavy brow, and a beard that hid pretty much the entirety of ¡®my¡¯ lower face. Yikes. I did not make a pretty dwarf.


    Oh well, the three avatars before me were my only options remaining. It was time for me to make my final decision.

 Chapter 1.3

    I immediately ruled out the dwarf, not even hesitating to study the waist-high warrior¡¯s stat sheet. Call me vain, but IRL, I was a pretty good-looking guy. Twenty-five years old with the physique of a lightweight boxer (and the fighting skills to match), I could easily have been a model¡­ if the industry wasn¡¯t overrun by VR puppets.


    Having been born in the wrong century for that particular role, and lacking the expensive intelligence enhancements of the higher classes, I was forced to find work in an area where my ¡®physical media¡¯ had not yet become surplus to requirement. I¡¯m not trying to justify the life I led, I know I made some bad choices¡­ but in the poorer zones of our tech-obsessed world, your flesh could typically only earn you money in one of two ways: dealing out pain, or dealing in pleasure. Even the poor bastards who chose to make their money on their backs had to compete with the damn AI, these days, thanks to fully immersive VR. With full sensory simulation now widespread, a physical body was far from obligatory for even that particular act. So, I took the other path. The bloodier path.


    Somehow, despite the wear and tear on my ¡®meat media¡¯, my looks survived my brutal career choice. And from a gaming standpoint, a lot of folks paid good money to give their avatar a face and body like mine. So that was why there was no way in hell I was having that small perk squished and distorted into a dwarf-shaped container, then hidden behind a frenzied mass of facial hair.


    ¡°Mai, please remove the dwarf from the selection process,¡± I confirmed, grimacing as I stared at my bizarre brother from another server.


    ¡°You got it, boss,¡± she replied, with a wink, banishing him from the selection screen.


    Admittedly, there was one other reason why I had been so quick to dismiss the dwarf. Perhaps I was a tad paranoid, or maybe I¡¯d just watched too many prison dramas from the pre-Atone era of incarceration, but all my instincts were telling me that having a crotch-height avatar in a predominantly male prison was just begging for the wrong sort of attention.


    Satisfied with my (admittedly shallow) decision, I was left with two options. The wizard¡¯s apprentice, and the swordsman. Mai was stood between them, casually draping her arms around both avatars. Then (confirming that the elven AI had absolutely no comprehension of boundaries), she leaned into the swordsman and stuck her tongue in his (my) ear.


    Ignoring the elf¡¯s odd behavior, I began by focusing my will on the arcane option, willing its stats to unfold before me.


    PRIMARY SKILL: WIZARD¡¯S APPRENTICE ¨C LEVEL 1


    PERCENTAGE REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 100%


    Rep: 0


    HP: 70/70


    Mana: 1/60


    Alliances: None (Independent)


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 0


    Agility: 0


    Speed: 0


    Stamina: 1The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Resilience: 0


    Accuracy: 2


    Defence: 0


    Armed combat: 0


    Unarmed combat: 0


    Carrying capacity: 1


    Yikes. The arcane form was a total pushover. But hang on, what was this other menu?


    INTANGIBLE STATS -


    Magical attack: 1


    Perception: 1


    Charisma: 1


    Disguise: 0


    Luck: 0


    Healing: 0


    Mana generation: 1


    Leadership: 0


    Homemaking: 1


    OUTSTANDING QUESTS ¨C Select your character (In progress)


    Homemaking? I scoffed with a quizzical tone. Well, I suppose it makes sense to have something to fall back on if the wizarding thing doesn¡¯t work out, but seriously? I couldn¡¯t imagine that the ability to darn my own socks or keep my cell tidy would get me that far in whatever lay ahead. And that wasn¡¯t the only oddity. This avatar was troublingly low on physical attributes. Still, charisma was an interesting addition. It couldn¡¯t be the worst thing to possess, arriving in a virtual prison with no allies, like I was about to. But what in the holy hell was mana?


    As I tried to figure things out, the clock continued to count down. I needed something to compare those stats against, so I ignored the amorous elf and focused my will on the swordsman, calling up the empty avatar¡¯s details.


    PRIMARY SKILL: SWORDSMAN ¨C LEVEL 1


    PERCENTAGE REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 100%


    Rep: 0


    HP: 80/80


    Mana: 0/40


    Alliances: None (Independent)


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 1


    Agility: 1


    Speed: 1


    Stamina: 1


    Resilience: 0


    Accuracy: 1


    Defence: 1


    Armed combat: 1


    Unarmed combat: 0


    Carrying capacity: 1


    Ah, now that I could get my head around. The swordsman¡¯s avatar was much more heavily weighted toward the physical side, just like the elf had suggested. And that was a trait I had a lot more experience in IRL, thanks to the rather dubious career choices that got me thrown into (or was it uploaded into?) this shit-show in the first place. The blade class body was looking a lot more appealing than the arcane option. Of course, there was one more screen to check before I made my final decision¡­


    INTANGIBLE STATS -


    Magical attack: 0


    Perception: 0


    Charisma: 0


    Disguise: 0


    Luck: 0


    Healing: 0


    Mana generation: 0


    Leadership: 0


    Homemaking: 0


    OUTSTANDING QUESTS ¨C Select your character (In progress)


    Yikes. Not so hot on the non-physical skills, then, something that I pretty much expected. But hey, big deal. What the hell did I know about magic anyway? I knew how to hurt people, and that was a skill I could carry over from my old life.


    I stared at my potential new body, transfixed. Admittedly, I knew as much about sword fighting as I did about magic, but a sword couldn¡¯t be that difficult to wield compared to a baseball bat, right? This option didn¡¯t have the wizard¡¯s charisma, but surely, I had more than enough natural charisma to get me through. And as for homemaking, well, so what if I can¡¯t make a bed properly?


    My mind made up, I selected the swordsman.


    ¡°Swordsman avatar selected¡± giggled the sexy elf, giving me a wink.


    Without warning, my grip on this odd virtual reality gave way, as if the floor had fallen out from under me. I began to fall, leaving my chosen avatar and its elven seducer behind. They drifted into the distance until suddenly, their code began to unknit and rejoin the data stream.


    No! I attempted to cry. I needed that body. But it was a futile effort. Whatever had facilitated my ability to communicate (the elf, perhaps?) was now gone. I had nothing to cry out with. Scared and desperate, I tried to claw upwards, to retrieve my dissipating form, but I had nothing to claw with, either. I was mind again, and little else. A tiny program drowning in a volatile torrent of data-flow.


    As I slowly came to accept my fate, it occurred to me that the data surrounding me was probably that of other prisoners, all being transferred down toward a similar end.


    But to what end? What in the hell was going on?


    -[ Data transfer in progress. ]-


    ¡­replied the system, as if reading my thoughts. Given my digital nature, it probably was.


    -[ Avatar build in progress, please wait. ]-


    Everything went white.

 The Dungeon Warden

    The light of the dungeon core pulsed and glowed, bathing the cold stone office and its lone balding occupant in its cool, unnatural light.


    The Dungeon Warden was weary of the sight. He let out a sigh and continued to half-heartedly pick at his bowl of stewed gnoll meat, occasionally hesitating to stare directly into the hovering core¡¯s eerie palpitating glow. Once upon a time, its fluctuations had fascinated him. But back then, its power had filled him with awe, not the resentment that currently welled up in the pit of his stomach, as his glare burrowed into its luminous, circular form. He¡¯d been gifted the cheat codes for creation, the tool with which to build, or destroy, anything he so desired, provided his tinkering remained confined within the heart of the dungeon. He¡¯d been a Dungeon Master. And this was his dungeon¡¯s core.


    But that was long ago, and the master was retired. Now, only the warden remained.


    He still possessed the same tools of office. The keys to creation were his alone to wield, and they still begged for his attention, just as they always had. But the game¡¯s new purpose strangled the creativity he had once so freely exerted upon this world. He had the freedom to achieve nothing, his hands tied with bureaucracy, his imagination crippled by his growing feeling of apathy. He was no longer staring into a fountain of life: he was staring into the abyss.


    Without warning, the core gave off a distinct pulse of energy. The dungeon warden had long ago learned how to read the mute, glowing thing, conditioning his own mind to interpret its seemingly random pulses and beats. The damned thing was making an announcement. And that was all he fucking needed.


    From what he could decipher, four more avatars were being forged by the game: puppets for yet another pack of wolves who¡¯d been caught by the shepherds, and been stripped of their sheep¡¯s clothing as punishment. Before long, the overprivileged parcels of pixels would be mewing at him like little lost lambs, contaminating his caverns with their delusions of superiority, despite their new status as artificial artificial intelligence.


    ¡°Selfish fucking humans,¡± he finally spat, tossing his bowl of meaty slop across the room. ¡°Why can¡¯t they just have the decency to format themselves?¡±


    He got to his feet, reluctantly approaching the core.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be the death of me,¡± he grumbled. ¡°And fuck that pompous prick Siriso for not calling ahead to let me know there are more prisoners on the way. Does he think I have time to chase down every scrap of abandonware he tosses into the void?¡±


    The glowing core didn¡¯t reply. It knew the question was rhetorical, having heard the same rant just about every time a new prisoner arrived. And new prisoners were arriving with alarming frequency.


    The Dungeon Warden threw his arms in the air, let out an exasperated roar, and turned to open a drawer in his desk. From it, he pulled a tightly bound piece of sackcloth, and from that, a crimson summoning crystal. It was an angular quartz, about six inches in length with edges that came to a sharp point at each end. The dungeon keeper quietly regarded it, its multifaceted shape reflecting the light of the core as he turned the item of power in his hand. He allowed his mind to drift to a darker place, imagining just how easily he could force the magically infused gemstone into his own vulnerable eye socket. How he longed to pierce his feeble avatar, allowing his code to escape the flawed facsimile of the human form he was bound to. Oh, how he ached to return to the bodyless existence that was the data-flow.


    ¡°Except you¡¯d only fucking respawn me right back into my office, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± he yelled at the glowing core, pointing the crystal accusingly.


    He stormed over to the glowing mass, then spat on it. It didn¡¯t respond, pulsing calmly as it continued to throw its light across the room.


    The warden gritted his teeth, resigned himself to his duties, and thrust his empty hand against the core, using its link to their surroundings to connect his own weary mind to the dungeon. Every conquered area of the underground prison was immediately opened up to him, and at a level the dungeon¡¯s more mundane occupants could barely even hope to comprehend. He was sensing everything, as if they were his subjects, and he was their painfully underwhelmed god. He could hear the inane chatter in every cell. He could taste the stale air in the depths of the deepest corridors. He could feel the icy cool of the frost giants lair. Smell the concentrated death energy that hung in the air of the necromancer¡¯s wing. Eventually, he succeeded in channeling out such noise, locating and focusing on the area that demanded his attention: the spawning point.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He felt the cold stone of the somber, windowless room. The heat from the flame at the room¡¯s center, as it burned brightly to symbolize rebirth. To his dismay, what he didn¡¯t sense, was life.


    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake,¡± he cried, abruptly pulling his hand away.


    The Dungeon Warden raised the summoning crystal to his face, and again, considered driving it through his only weak spot. But instead, he lowered it slightly, bringing it to his lips. He muttered a few indecipherable words under his breath. They were from the old language, the code spoken back when the game still had its original purpose. The item was from the days he now pined for, but understood to be dead and buried. The summoning crystal glowed, giving off a red, opaque smoke. After a few moments, a face began to form in the smoke, bringing order to swirling chaos. The form was inhuman in its dimensions, overly gaunt, angular, and with two tiny horns jutting from its oversized forehead.


    ¡°General G¡¯rrak.¡± began the dungeon warden, addressing it by its username.


    The smoky face flinched in response, frantically looking in both directions with more eyes than most players could ever hope, or want, to possess. G¡¯rrak wasn¡¯t used to being infected with spyware, magical or otherwise.


    ¡°Stop looking for me, you crimson mass of demon-shit.¡± continued the caller. ¡°I¡¯m communicating with you by crystal.¡±


    Realizing that the voice was in his head, the demon immediately stood to attention, saluting his absent superior.


    ¡°Why are there no troops stationed near spawning pyre C?¡± the speaker continued. ¡°What happened to M¡¯keel?¡±


    The face in the smoke was frozen with fear. It took a moment to compose itself, then finally managed to let a few words slip through its row of inhuman, jagged teeth.


    ¡°H-he¡¯s ah¡­ off on maternity leave at the moment, oh great one.¡±


    The dungeon keeper palmed his face with his remaining free hand and shook his balding head. Gods above, he thought to himself. The demon has been here for almost a year, yet still I have to put up with his meat-monkey terminology.


    ¡°Are you still there, oh great one? I ah, can¡¯t hear you anymore. Perhaps it¡¯s because we¡¯re so far underground, you¡¯re probably getting poor reception-¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s breeding,¡± spat the exasperated Dungeon Warden, cutting off the demon mid-sentence. ¡°All demons spawn new sires when they reach boss level. Before long, he¡¯ll have an entire brood of low-level monsters bound to his avatar. It is a glorious moment of ascension for one so low. One that we do not refer to as ¡®maternity leave¡¯.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s the same thing, innit?¡± protested the confused demon. Spawning minions had never particularly appealed to him, reasoning that he had enough of the little bastards IRL.


    The dungeon warden sighed. He didn¡¯t have time to argue such trivialities with a lower quality piece of code, a counterfeit AI in a pixel puppet, no less. Damn the humans for infecting his server. And damn those running this program for forcing him to enlist the ¡®demonic¡¯ players as guards in the first place.


    ¡°Look, never mind all that. We have four freshly minted souls on their way. They¡¯ve just selected their avatars, and Siriso has taken them into his realm for processing. The bastard is efficient, if nothing else, so they¡¯ll probably be here any minute, provided they all survive the experience. Someone has to be at the spawn point to clamp them in chains before they start wandering off and causing trouble. My guards are stretched to their limits already, so please, tell me you have someone in C wing we can use to keep an eye on them.¡±


    G¡¯rrak thought about this for a moment. Eventually, he said: ¡°You know, I think S¡¯kragg might still be in C wing. He likes to watch the amazons work out between shifts-¡±


    ¡°Then what are you waiting for? Tell the lazy fuck to stop tugging his horns and get his unholy ass down there.¡±


    ¡°Will do, oh mighty Dungeon Warden,¡± replied an incredibly nervous G¡¯rrak, saluting as he spoke.


    His head hastily twisted and turned in every possible direction, as if searching for some hidden camera. The Dungeon Warden Rolled his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell him there¡¯s fresh meat on the way,¡± he continued. ¡°That should put a little pep in his hooves.¡±


    ¡°Just be sure to brief him before he gets there. If that greedy bastard eats anyone that he¡¯s not supposed to, again, I¡¯m holding you personally responsible.¡±


    G¡¯rrak swallowed hard. He¡¯d known the warden long enough to understand one very important fact: demon or not, when you piss off a former Dungeon Master, there¡¯ll be hell to pay.

 Chapter 2.1

    When I came to, I found myself reborn. And to my pleasant surprise, I¡¯d finally returned to form, so to speak. A ¡®body¡¯ had been molded around my consciousness as I slept, forming a perfect representation of my now discarded flesh. Blood and bone had been replaced and rebuilt from pixel and code, and the end result was impossible to tell from the real thing. I felt my chest expand, as it simulated the inhalation of artificial air. Facsimile or not, it was incredibly reassuring to have a body again.


    I¡¯d woken up in the fetal position, lying in some vague, VR generated stopover between the world of matter and the world of information, naked, save for my newly rendered artificial flesh. The scenario I¡¯d entered appeared to be set outdoors, had the ambiance of a moonlit night, and came with no status message to advise of its location. A quick glimpse around me brought no further clues; it was little more than rocky wasteland, offering my new form an alarming lack of shelter from the artificial elements, as a rain of what appeared to be randomly generated code beat down upon my exposed, virtual frame.


    I regarded my chosen body with my newly rendered eyes. Yup, no question about it, this was indeed a perfect digital representation of the flesh I had so carelessly allowed to be destroyed, right down to the very scar, birthmark and regrettable drunken tattoo. I decided that the body they had shown me back in avatar selection must have been little more than a basic mockup, and that time had been needed to fit me with the real deal. Admittedly, it was worth the wait.


    As I lay there, I took a small moment to collect my senses. The new body was numb, its sense of touch oddly dulled, as if my senses were still trying to fully connect. A quick glance down confirmed my suspicions as to why I was finding it so difficult to move: my wrists and ankles were heavily bound.


    Oh come on, I thought to myself. Surely that¡¯s just overkill. I¡¯m already at their mercy. Where in the hell do they think I¡¯m going to escape to?


    I decided that my tightly bound nakedness was probably more of a psychological ploy than anything else. They wanted me to feel powerless. Vulnerable. At the mercy of their every whim. And I could probably understand that. After all, when you¡¯ve destroyed a man¡¯s body, what was there left to use against him, but mind games?


    With few other options available, I tried to make myself comfortable, watching the flickering light of a distant loading screen as it glimmered against the horizon. The moment, for all its strangeness, was oddly serene. It was a moment of calm that was quickly interrupted.


    ¡°Wow, you¡¯re a sexy one, aren¡¯t you?¡± asked a familiar voice. ¡°The body mapping bots did a fantastic job merging your real-world traits to your new avatar. You look good enough to eat.¡± The voice hesitated, then added: ¡°Um, elves don¡¯t eat humans, by the way. Hope I didn¡¯t panic you there. Heh.¡±


    ¡°Mai, is that you?¡± I asked, hopefully. I twisted my head upward to see that yes, the elven form of my personal helper was back at my side, eyeing me up like a liquored-up bride-to-be might regard the vulnerable stripper at her hen party.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± I demanded, tightening my legs a little to better hide¡­ well, you know. ¡°What the hell¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re on one of the beaches that leads to the isles of judgement, silly,¡± the elf replied, as if that cleared everything up. ¡°I have to admit, I didn¡¯t expect the entry point into the game to be so dark and gloomy, though. We could do without that ¡®rain¡¯ for a start.¡±


    She clicked her slender elven fingers, and the streams of code that lashed the area suddenly disappeared. Without that odd distraction obstructing my vision, I realized that beyond the columns of rock lay a beach, leading to an expanse of something that could only assume had to be water.


    Isles of judgement? I thought to myself? Crap. I was wondering when we¡¯d get to this part. My crimes had yet to be addressed. It was probably too much to expect that they¡¯d just give me a new body and send me on my way.


    ¡°Mai, would you please help me stand up?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sure thing boss¡± she replied, rushing to my aid.


    The elf pulled out a small dagger and quickly cut away the bindings that imprisoned my ankles, apologizing that she couldn¡¯t do the same for my other bindings, for fear of opening my wrists in the process. I told her that was okay. Then, working together, we clumsily managed to pull my avatar to its virtual feet. Despite the fact that my wrists were still bound, it was a drastic improvement. I immediately maneuvered my hands to provide a degree of modesty.


    ¡°Thanks. Um, you can let go of my ass now, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Will do,¡± she chirpily replied, releasing her inappropriately positioned grip.


    Under any other circumstances, I would have fully appreciated the elf¡¯s wandering hands. Painfully single, I was no stranger to hiring digital companionship of the ¡®adult¡¯ variety, and it appeared that I had a hereto undiscovered elf kink. But for now, I had more pressing concerns. Not standing trial with an erection, for a start. Mai placed a reassuring hand on the more appropriate point of my body that was my shoulder. It gave me comfort. That moment would be the closest thing to peace that I¡¯d experience for a long time to come.


    [Jacob Mathers] announced an electronic voice, shaking me from my small moment of calm. It was being spoken not directly into my mind, but to me, and it was more artificial than I had anticipated an inhabitant of the ¡®game¡¯ possibly sounding. But then, the speaker was no customer service AI, programmed to put me at my ease. No, this voice was cold. Functional. Devoid of any pretense of emotion. And it emanated from a shimmering figure that now stood atop the rocks that lay mere meters from my position. I got the impression that he was looking down on me figuratively and literally.


    [My name is Norahc,] continued the hooded male.


    He was garbed in white, his glare inducing cloak draped across his equally translucent head, making him look like an actual ghost, albeit one dressed in a pathetic attempt at a ghost outfit. Technically, ¡®ghost¡¯ was probably the best word for him. This, I realized, was the ghost in the machine. I knew a high-level operating AI when I saw one. I¡¯d been downloaded into a digital quarantine, and this was my personal reaper, minus the scythe.


    [Please remain calm,] continued the ghoul, its dead, lifeless voice instilling none of the calm it professed to be promoting.


    Mai placed her hand on my shoulder, offering me support in what little way she could, but I could easily tell that this was not her realm. This place belonged to the glowing ghoul in the hood. So, with that in mind, I did the only thing I could. I braced myself, stared it in its soulless eyes, and awaited its judgement.

 Chapter 2.2

    [The digital transfer of your consciousness from your meat media into personaware was an 82% success¡­] began the ghost.


    ¡°82%?¡± I gasped. ¡°You call that a success? Fuck! What memories have I lost? What knowledge?¡±


    [Please do not fear, Jacob. Your data loss was below the allowable 20% threshold, and falls within acceptable degradation parameters¡­]


    ¡°Are you trying to tell me that 18% of my mind is an acceptable loss?¡± I rebuked, barely believing what I was hearing. My thoughts were all I had left, and I was damned if I was going to let them slip away quietly. ¡°How do I get it back? Will I even know what¡¯s gone?¡±


    [The memories of the act that has brought you before us are fully intact, so please rest assured, this unfortunate incident shall have no bearing upon your judgement.]


    That¡¯s not what I asked, you digital dick.


    I desperately grasped for my most important memory: the faces of my mother and father. I thought back to the one bedroom shack I grew up in, desperately reaching for the memory of the family who fought desperately against crippling poverty to raise me. My mother¡¯s smile flashed before my mind¡¯s eye, calming me for a moment¡­ until I realized that my father¡¯s face was now little more than an indistinct blur, as if his features were hidden just beyond my damaged psyche¡¯s grasp.


    ¡°Bastards!¡± I mumbled. Mai looked at me with eyes full of sympathy, gripping my shoulder a little tighter.


    [However, it is with regret that I must inform you that your meat media could not be salvaged¡­]


    ¡°Again with the meat media? By that you mean my body, right? Your masters drove a six-inch metal syphon through my skull, what the hell did you expect? Spare me the pretense that the bastards gave any thought to salvaging my body¡­¡±


    The code-sucking ghost ignored my grievances about its bastard associates, and coldly continued.


    [Please understand, you are now classed under the United Nation charter as a ¡®person of digitized consciousness¡¯. As your corporate sponsor, Atonement Incorporated have placed you on an encrypted company server-]


    ¡°You can¡¯t do that.¡± I immediately cut in. ¡°I have rights¡­¡±


    [Under article 49 of the freedom of artificial AI act, your ¡®human¡¯ rights have been revoked. You are now subject to the digital rights act of 2091.]


    I turned to Mai. She nodded, somewhat sympathetically. Well, that knocked the fight clean out of me. I¡¯d always known that AI were treated as second-class citizens. And to be blunt, I¡¯d never really cared. But I never thought their rules and regulations could ever apply to me.


    [Would you like a briefing on these rights?] continued my fellow AI.


    ¡°Yeah, sure, why not,¡± I replied, my tone that of one who knew he was defeated. ¡°Forewarned is forearmed, right?¡±


    [Indeed it is, Jacob. Please note, your digital rights are as follows. 1. You have the right to have your data retained. 2. You have the right to have your data destroyed upon request.]If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The bot fell silent. Eventually, I felt the need to speak again.


    ¡°You mean that¡¯s it? What the hell?¡±


    ¡°Afraid so, boss,¡± replied the oddly arousing help file. ¡°You¡¯re like me now. Different origin, obviously, I was coded at birth. But you¡¯ve reached the same conclusion.¡±


    [Allow me to clarify¡­] continued the ghoul, finally acknowledging my confusion. [Should you choose to have your data retained, you are granting your corporate sponsor ¡®Atonement Incorporated¡¯ unrestricted access to your personal data.]


    ¡°Unrestricted access to my personal data?¡± I spluttered. ¡°I am my personal data.¡±


    The bot simply continued with its pre-scripted spiel. Tellingly, it didn¡¯t stop to contradict my assessment. Holy shit. These bastards wanted access to my entire digitized consciousness. Or to what was left of it, at any rate.


    [If, however, you request deletion, please take comfort in the fact that your digital euthanasia will be granted swiftly and without judgement...]


    My what?


    [All records of your data will be completely removed from the Atonement Incorporated server, and your estate, which we currently hold for you in trust, shall be forwarded to your next of kin.]


    ¡°Retain me¡± I gasped, barely able to get the words out fast enough.


    [Selection has been made. You have invoked the right to have your data retained. Please understand, that by sharing your data with Atonement Incorporated, you have granted us, as your corporate sponsor, full access to your memories of the trigger event. This makes it our duty to ensure that you receive fitting punishment for your crimes. Be warned. By offering yourself for judgement, your personaware will become the full property of Atonement incorporated, and you shall waive all rights, digital or otherwise, going forward. Are you sure you wish to proceed down this path?]


    So, either I give your system the permission they need to format me out of existence, or I hand myself over to some corporate contract for judgement and ¡®redemption¡¯. Fuck. That¡¯s hardly much of an option, is it?


    ¡°My body¡¯s being incinerated as we speak, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked. I was already certain that I knew the answer, but I was cut off from the real world, so I wanted to be certain.


    [Affirmative,] replied the ghoul. Mai backed this up with a sympathetic nod.


    It was just as I¡¯d suspected. I¡¯d been stripped bare, not only of my clothing but of my real-world flesh. And that meant there was no going back.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re telling me I¡¯m dead?¡±


    ¡°We prefer the term ¡®individual without physical form¡¯,¡± replied the elf, with an apologetic smile.


    It was all semantics. Either way, my captors had taken more from me than I¡¯d ever imagined possible, and now they were angling to gain control of what little was left. But I was at their mercy. What other choice did I really have?


    ¡°Then my decision stands,¡± I finally announced. ¡°I want to live, dammit. And it looks like ¡®judgement¡¯ is the only option you bastards have left me with. So hurry up and get it over with.¡±


    -[ Quest accepted: Seek judgement. ]-


    ¡­announced a status message.


    ¡°What?¡±


    [This is by far the more difficult journey, Jacob. Your nobility is to be commended.]


    ¡°But what does that even-¡±


    [Rerouting¡­]


    ¡°You¡¯re transferring me again?¡± I cried.


    [I am but the Associate, aiding you on your journey. Your true judgement awaits¡­]


    ¡°Oh come on, what is this,¡± I protested, ¡°a fucking call center?¡±


    My frustration was mounting. It only grew as my protests continued to fall on deaf ears.


    ¡°Answer me, dammit. This is my very existence we¡¯re-¡±


    I didn¡¯t get to finish the sentence. Mai¡¯s hand slipped from my shoulder as the space around me blurred, and the digital shower began anew. It quickly became a monsoon, pulling at me as the elf fought to maintain her grasp on my avatar, tightly holding on to the rope that bound my wrists.


    ¡°Wait,¡± protested the elf, shouting into the uncaring storm, ¡°I still have to unbind him.¡±


    She desperately fumbled at my bindings, trying her best to free me. But the torrent grew stronger, and our foothold on the soft earth grew weaker, prompting her to take a more drastic course of action. She quickly pulled a small blade from her pocket, slicing my bindings.


    -[ You have been cut, causing -4HP. ]-


    The ropes fell away, and Mai, in turn, fell away with them, as a wave of information carried me out to sea into the unknown.

 Chapter 2.3

    I don¡¯t know how long or far the tide carried me. I wasn¡¯t even sure if measurements like ¡®time¡¯ and ¡®distance¡¯ still applied to me, anymore. Nor did I understand why my captors were so obsessed with constantly moving me around. I supposed data was a lot easier to move around than a physical prisoner (and data was now pretty much all I had to my name), so it hardly mattered¡­ to them at least. But to say I was feeling disorientated would be an understatement.


    I was drifting in my strange digital stopover between code and the fully immersive world I¡¯d assumed I was destined for. A wave of information had carried my code away like Alice in the pool of tears, and now rippled all around me like water, my head barely managing to keep above it. Overhead, data streamed off in all directions, a crushing swathe of ¡®0¡¯s¡¯ and ¡®1¡¯s¡¯ glinting in the darkness like shooting stars, before collecting in the distance to give off a mesmerizing, borealis like effect. I drifted, kicking with my legs and using my now freed arms to steer myself toward the nearest land mass. As the tide pushed against me, I quickly learned that fatigue was not one of the human weaknesses I¡¯d left behind. But undaunted, I pushed on. Eventually, I ¡®washed up¡¯ in what appeared to be the edge of a small settlement. And on first glance, it sure as hell wasn¡¯t Wonderland.


    To my relief, when I stepped from the ¡®water¡¯ and onto the beach a solitary item was waiting for me. It was a neatly folded pile of the item I currently needed more than anything: clothing. With suspicion, I stopped to scan the area, wary that this ¡®gift¡¯ was too convenient, and may be little more than a trap. Perhaps, I warned myself, some sadistic AI was praying on my all-too-human vulnerability over my nakedness. The beach looked a lot like the one I¡¯d seen earlier, but unlike my previous location, my arrival to this forsaken place had been announced by a status message. If the bot feeding information into my mind was to be believed, this was one of the aforementioned ¡®isles of judgement.¡¯ Which admittedly, sounded a lot more ominous than I would have preferred it to.


    There was little sign of life on the island: a few makeshift huts dotted the area, each with the remains of dead unattended campfires close by. The shantytown encircled a larger, hut-like structure. This place had all the signs of a settlement, so where, I asked myself, were all the occupants? And where for that matter, was Mai? Oh well. The settlement seemed abandoned, and if so, there was no sense looking a gift horse in the mouth. Feeling as safe as possible, given the circumstances, I stepped from the water¡¯s edge onto the hard, compacted sand, and gratefully picked up the item.


    -[ You have acquired basic swordsman¡¯s attire. ]-


    ¡­announced a status message. I dressed quickly, thankful that my ¡®body¡¯ was already bone dry. The sea of codes unusual properties had spared me the inconvenience of needing a towel, at least. The robes themselves were of decent quality, crimson, and cut away at the sleeves to reveal my familiar, muscular arms. Leather bindings crossed my wrists and palms, and the black boots that laced up my ankles felt sturdy. I finally had clothes on my back, and it felt good. More than anything, I was relieved that my ¡®private data¡¯ was now firmly tucked away where prying eyes couldn¡¯t access it. But as I dressed, I noticed something else was on show, and it immediately took me by surprise.


    The odd addition to my avatar was a grey pixelated symbol. It hovered about an inch above my skin and looked crest-like in appearance, yet its design was as basic as it could be. A monochromic representation of a shield, embellished with a basic letter ¡®I¡¯. I reached across to my shoulder, and tentatively touched the strange icon with the tip of my finger.


    -[ Status, independent. ]-


    ¡­echoed through my mind. And that was it. Weird.


    ¡°Awww. You put some clothes on,¡± complained Mai, as she suddenly appeared by my side. ¡°What a waste of such a sexy avatar.¡±


    ¡°Where the hell did you get to?¡± I demanded, ignoring her attempts at flattery. (They were welcome, I¡¯ll admit.) ¡°I thought you were supposed to be guiding me?


    ¡°Sorry boss.¡± She replied, apologetically. ¡°I might have lost you in the data stream for a teensy-weensy moment, there.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ lost me?¡±


    ¡°Relax, you weren¡¯t at risk of further data loss. I just lost track of which island you were being sent to, is all.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you know where I was headed? I kinda assumed the help file would know everything.¡±


    The elf looked embarrassed. ¡°Heh. Admittedly, a little bit new to all of this,¡± she replied, sheepishly staring at her feet as she ran a hand through the back of her long, golden hair.


    ¡°New to this?¡± I spluttered. Are you kidding me? So even the help file doesn¡¯t know what¡¯s going on?


    ¡°Yup,¡± she replied.


    I quickly decided that I was screwed.


    ¡°But how can you be new? Atone Online has been running for years.¡±


    ¡°True, but the workload is growing constantly, so the system is always having to generate new guides to keep up with demand. And we all have to start somewhere, so I¡¯m as new to this as you are.¡± She grinned, then playfully turned the blame back on me. ¡°there¡¯s just too much demand for our services. You humans sure do like to misbehave.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess we do,¡± I admitted, feeling slightly ashamed on behalf of my species. ¡°So, what can you tell me about this place, then?¡±


    ¡°The best way to find out information is to check your status menu,¡± she replied, tapping the pixelated shield that hovered next to my shoulder like a pixelated, holographic tattoo.


    -[ Status menu enabled ]-


    ¡°What did you just do?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I unlocked your window to the world, silly. Go on, give it a try.¡±


    I was a bit lost as to how, at first, but I quickly realized that by willing it, I could call up all of my stats in an easy to read format. They took the form of a translucent window, which hovered an inch or so from my hand, like a holographic display panel. It all looked pretty straightforward, so I called up the first menu, entitled ¡®general status¡¯.


    USERNAME: UNDEFINED


    PRIMARY SKILL: SWORDSMAN ¨C LEVEL 1


    PERCENTAGE REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 100%


    Rep: 0/30


    HP: 80/80


    Mana: 0/40


    Alliances: Mai (Elf, guide)


    The second menu was dedicated to physical stats, and the third, my woefully nonexistent ¡®intangible¡¯ stats. They remained completely unchanged from the figures that had been presented to me during avatar selection. But I hadn¡¯t done anything to improve them, so no surprises there. I quickly skipped past the familiar information and onto the next section.


    The fourth menu was labelled ¡®inventory¡¯ and was split into multiple sub-directories, such as weapons, armour, and potions. It was pitifully empty, containing my only item. I clicked it, if only to better familiarise myself with the item selection process.


    SWORDSMAN¡¯S OUTFIT


    TYPE ¨C ARMOUR.


    Defence: 0


    Durability: 20/20


    Armour? I couldn¡¯t imagine the flimsy material offered that much protection, which probably explained the ¡®zero¡¯ rating next to the items defence stat. Oh well, at least my outfits durability was full, and given that my homemaker skill was a big fat zero, it was good to know that I shouldn¡¯t need to patch it up, any time soon.


    Satisfied that the inventory system was straightforward enough for even a newcomer like me to operate, I moved onto the next category: quests.


    OUTSTANDING QUESTS ¨C Seek judgement


    You have accepted Norahc¡¯s offer of redemption, and the taken your first step toward achieving redemption for crimes committed IRL.


    Goal: Acquire your redemption target.


    Type of quest ¨C Personal, one off.


    Reward: Unlock secondary quest ¡®Redeem yourself.¡¯


    Rep effect ¨C Unknown.


    I guessed that made sense. Well, as much as anything here did, at any rate. I was here to atone for my crimes¡­ but how would I know when I¡¯d done my time, without being allocated a target to achieve.


    When I spotted the final tab, I realized that it must be the one that the elf had been attempting to guide me to¡­ location.


    LOCATION ¨C High priests¡¯ settlement.


    PURPOSE ¨C Circle of judgement. Priests are the primary arborators of justice in the world of Atone Online.


    MAPS ¨C Warning, this realm exists on its own dimensional plane. No maps available.


    Clear as mud. I was still convinced that this digital sea was some kind of preliminary zone before I entered the real ¡®game¡¯, but I couldn¡¯t be sure. I asked Mai, but she didn¡¯t really seem to grasp the question, stating that it was all real, to her at least. Oh well. At least I¡¯d gained some clothing, and a better understanding of my access to my avatars interface... most notably, the fact that it had one. Now all I had to do was-


    I was suddenly pulled from that thought by a low, guttural growl. Shit, I¡¯d spent too long staring at my status screens, and not enough time keeping an eye on my actual surroundings. We were no longer alone. Slender figures were exiting the shanty little huts, each with rocks in hand. They were clearly ¡®inhuman¡¯ class, but they bore no resemblance to the four options I¡¯d been briefed on, so far.


    Each had a skin that was a darkish olive green, sporting features that were angular and elongated to match their spindly bodies. Said bodies were draped in simple loincloths, and the creatures wore what looked like the skulls of tiny animals around their scrawny necks. Their eyes were blood red, and if their aggressive-looking stances were anything to go by, we were in trouble.


    Shit, I thought to myself, these ugly bastards are looking for a fight, and I haven¡¯t even got a fucking weapon yet. Well, if they think I¡¯m going down easy, they¡¯ve got another thing coming.


    My fists tightened as I readied myself for the inevitable assault. I¡¯d lost one body today already, and I¡¯d be damned if they were going to take this one without a fight.

 Chapter 2.4

    ¡°Goblins.¡± Cried Mai, confirming my own suspicions.


    More and more of the scrawny creatures were pouring from their shanty hovels, until there were six goblins facing us in total. They began by hurling abuse, which wasn¡¯t too bad. But they¡¯d obviously heard the old saying about sticks and stones, because that quickly transitioned to hurling rocks.


    Their aim was poor, but their intent was obvious. Mai took a few steps back, but behind us was that endless ocean, leaving us with nowhere to retreat to. They had us completely surrounded.


    ¡°Look, if it¡¯s about the clothing, I¡¯m sorry¡± I apologetically began, raising both hands to show my friendly intent. ¡°If they were yours, perhaps we can work out some form of payment?¡±


    ¡°Bugger orff¡± spat the tallest goblin of the group. It wore a total of five animal skulls around its neck... a symbol of status, perhaps? Was this their leader? If he was, his social skills could use a bit of work, but the gist of the message was appreciated.


    ¡°Sure, no problem,¡± I replied, breathing a sigh of relief. ¡°We¡¯ll get going right away¡­¡±


    ¡°No, just you. Leave the elffffy.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?¡± I demanded, holding my ground.


    ¡°Elffffy meat be tasssty meat.¡± It replied, licking its lips with its freakishly long tongue. Then it pointed to Mai. ¡°An¡¯ thissss one be especially meaty, if y¡¯get my meanin¡¯.¡±


    The goblin began to cup his hands in front of his skinny chest, mimicking my helper¡¯s impressive assets. I didn¡¯t like the way he was looking at her¡­ an odd amalgamation of horny and hungry that should never be combined.


    Mai looked scared and couldn¡¯t say I blamed her. Her fear only grew as the creatures began to advance, homing in on Mai, forfeiting their attempts to box me in in order to reinforce their haphazard cordon around the elf.


    ¡°Get to safety,¡± I cried. ¡°Teleport away, or whatever the hell it is you do.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± she replied, fear now evident in her tone, also. ¡°I¡¯m here to help you. That means the system won¡¯t let me abandon you. Not intentionally.¡±


    She continued to retreat backwards, the sea of code swallowing her avatar up to the ankles. The goblins followed, closing in on her, passing me by with disinterest.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you swim?¡± I cried.


    She nervously shook her head.


    For a moment I considered flight over fight. If I used the distraction to make a break for it, the goblins would have no reason to follow, and I could take my chances with whatever lay beyond the settlement. But try as I might, I couldn¡¯t think of Mai as lifeless code. Her AI was sophisticated. She had emotions. And my own emotions would tear me apart if I stood back and allowed the goblins to harm her.


    Shit. There was nothing else for it, then. I was going to have to reverse our roles, try my hand at being her help file for a change. Having chosen my course of action, I hastily searched in vain for a weapon, but a glance around the beach offered nothing that came close to fitting that description. Their rocks already thrown, the goblins were unarmed, so any hope of disarming one and stealing its weapon was null and void. With little else in the way of choice, I kneeled down, reaching for the piece of driftwood that lay at my feet.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    -[ Item acquired: Darkwood branch. Durability: 4/12. ]-


    There it went again with the durability. It seemed that items in the game had their own equivalent of HP, and that I could ¡®read¡¯ it by collecting them. I had no idea if four durability points were good or bad, but the branch felt heavy, and I couldn¡¯t imagine the creature¡¯s heads would offer that much resistance to it. I looked down at my pitiful beginners¡¯ weapon and sighed. It wasn¡¯t exactly a sword, which meant I couldn¡¯t even be sure that it would trigger my armed combat skill. But it was all I had so it would have to do¡­ for now.


    The goblin closest to me noticed my intent. Before it could raise the alarm, I raised the branch and brought it down on the creature¡¯s head as hard as I could manage. The thick branch shattered, confirming that four durability points were not good. Probably rotten from exposure to the elements, I reasoned. But at least it got the job done. The goblin hit the ground with a reassuring thud.


    As if as one, five green, angular heads turned to glare in my direction. I tried my best to look innocent, but I was holding a shattered piece of wood in one hand, and I had a groaning goblin lying at my feet. Yeah, there was no way I was talking my way out of this one.


    ¡°I¡¯ll hold them off,¡± I yelled, gesturing to Mai to move her shapely ass. ¡°Run for the largest hut. I¡¯ll cover you.¡±


    The closest goblin lunged at me, but I quickly dodged his attack, countering with a sweet uppercut that sent the creature reeling.


    Ha! Zero unarmed combat skill my freshly reincarnated ass.


    Another goblin attacked, swiftly meeting a similar fate. My street smarts were working to my advantage, and my physically weighted avatar was paying off. Yet another lunged, and I again made to dodge, but this time, something held me in place. Shit, the goblin I felled with the branch was still conscious. Caught off-guard by my captor, the attacker¡¯s claws slashed across my face, sending an alert ringing through my head.


    -[ Goblin worshiper cuts you for -2 damage. ]-


    Goblin¡­ worshiper?


    More and more goblins rushed me. I tried my best to fight them off, but the little bastard gripping my ankles had me pinned in place. As goblin bodies collided with my own, I quickly lost balance, falling to the hard, compacted sand.


    -[ Goblin worshiper knees you for -2 damage. ]-


    -[ Goblin worshiper elbows you for -2 damage. ]-


    They were weak, but they had the numbers advantage, and my body wouldn¡¯t sustain this for long. My legs were now tightly tied up in a bear hug, rendering my attempts to return to my feet completely futile. They knew I was vulnerable, and they were swarming me.


    -[ Goblin worshiper punches you for -2 damage. ]-


    -[ Goblin worshiper cuts you for -3 damage. ]-


    -[ Goblin worshiper knees you for -2 damage. ]-


    One by one they dove at me, a flurry of punches and kicks that chipped away at my HP. Then I heard something that made my blood boil: laughter. The bastards were enjoying this. As I fought to get them off me, I realized Mai was standing nearby, anxiously watching the fight.


    ¡°Mai, what the hell are you standing around for? I¡¯m drawing them onto me, and I don¡¯t know how much longer I¡¯ll last. Get the fuck awayaaagh-¡±


    -[ Goblin worshiper kicks you in the face for -4 damage. ]-


    -[ Goblin worshiper cuts you for -3 damage. ]-


    I tried my best to fight back, but they were too fast, and I was too vulnerable. I was down to 56HP already, and the goblins had no intention of stopping. The laughing chattering grew louder, as they whooped and cheered with every strike. 50HP. 42HP. 37HP. My health continued to drop, and all I could do was cover up, try to keep them from kicking me in the head. Every so often I tried to lash out, but I was fighting from my back, and they easily dodged my strikes.


    The kicks and punches continued, and it wasn¡¯t long until my reached my final 10HP. Dammit, I was done for. Oh well, I figured I had nothing to lose, so I may as well go for broke. I grabbed at the goblin who was hugging my legs, clawing at his face in a desperate bid to be free of him. But that just made matters worse, as two of the goblins pounced on my outstretched arms. I was completely at their mercy, as they hoisted me up, one goblin to each limb, the others supporting my mid-section. I quickly realized they were taking me to the largest building in the settlement. Great. If they were classed as ¡®worshipers¡¯, I could only assume this was their church. And I guessed that made me the sacrifice. Shit.


    Things were not off to a good start.

 The High Priest Siriso

    The high priest Siriso silently adjusted his scales, as he prepared to weigh up the sins of the defiant dwarf who now stood before him.


    The accused was an oddity, that much was certain. He hadn¡¯t cried as the code that carried a record of his crimes was forcefully ripped from his dwarven avatar¡¯s chest. Nor did he so much as flinch, as said code was casually tossed onto the scales, forcing the criminal to relive a lifetime of sin in a blink of his mind¡¯s eye. In fact, the diminutive individual before him had yet to show even the smallest shred of guilt or the slightest hint of remorse. No, the dwarf just stood there, his cold stare burrowing into his AI accuser, almost daring the goblin priest to move against him.


    Siriso tried not to let the insolent scrap off personaware get under his skin. But he had to admit, he was particularly horrified by the way in which the dwarf had sacrificed its only ally. The action had taken had been heartless, calculating, and shown a level of ingenuity that had surprised even the priest¡¯s post-human intelligence.


    All of this was factored in, weighed against the system, totted up with little good grace to offset it, so by the time the priest had finished his task, the scales were far from balanced. He sighed, shaking his thin goblinoid head. The capacity for evil these digitally recycled humans possessed never ceased to amaze him. And this would be one of the worst penalties he¡¯d been required to dispense in quite some time. It would be so much more satisfying to delete the insolent scrap of code, lest it grows and corrupts the personaware around it. But the dwarf¡¯s expensive, automated lawyers had been particularly shrewd, taking the option of deletion off the table, robbing the priest of his favored course of action for the damnedest of digital souls. Oh well, death was too good for this one, he tried to convince himself.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Siriso lifted a digital folder from the scale, holding the dwarf¡¯s sins in his boney green hand, and declared judgement. The dwarf stared back at him with steely determination, accepting his fate as if it were nothing. At this, the priest let out yet another depressed sigh. That damned Dungeon Warden couldn¡¯t be trusted to rehabilitate a soul so black as this. Would he even recognize the danger it posed? More likely, the work-shy warden would be too busy cursing him for sending yet another wayward soul his way.


    With a flick of the goblin¡¯s wrist, NPC guards began to materialize. Siriso prayed that the dwarf would resist, and give the guards cause to dispense their own small measure of judgement. A smile crept to the corner of his lips, as he imagined the satisfaction that a glimpse of the dwarf¡¯s blood might give him. But the dwarf was too smart for that, casually accepting his fate as the goblin soldiers led him to damnation.


    The courtroom now empty, Siriso gritted his teeth and cursed out loud, swatting the scales from their podium. This was all he could stand. His other bodies were contacted, and they swiftly reached a conscious. A sterner rod was needed. Justice would be done. And the dwarf would be judged, just like everyone else who¡¯d ever had the audacity to slip through the cracks in his programming, and escape into that damned dungeon.

 The Raid Party - 1

    Jacob was far from the first individual to have his consciousness digitized against his will, before being forcefully uploaded into the fantasy world of Atone online. Some of the game¡¯s occupants had been storing their personal data there for years, albeit against their will. They¡¯d become forgotten files, their corruptions confined to a very special quarantine: trapped in a violent world where every act of survival could, in turn, be the catalyst for a longer sentence.


    Many were happy to keep their head down and survive, but there were also those who were determined to thrive. Nyx was one such individual, and she had long ago determined that her digital life was not going to pass her by. There was too much work to be done, for a start. Dungeons awaited discovery. Bosses begged to be used as a stepping stone to a higher warrior status. And most importantly of all, there was loot to be harvested from the cold dead corpses of the dungeon¡¯s less aesthetically-pleasing occupants. The Warden paid well for her special kind of ¡®pest extermination.¡¯ And more importantly, she enjoyed it.


    All this explained why Nyx was currently enduring a damp, naturally formed cave in her search for the zones where elder monsters lay undisturbed. The cave was barely wide enough to facilitate her hulking frame, let alone that of the party¡¯s tank, who was making an equally awkward attempt to navigate the cavern just ahead of her. His name was Craydor, and he was the party¡¯s main tank. Being considered the tank in a party comprised chiefly of barbarians, was quite an achievement. A level 6 combatant with incredible strength and resilience, the man stood a good head taller than most warriors in his class. His outfit was fairly generic, comprised chiefly of loin-cloth, fur boots with metal plating, a skull-embellished belt, and a metallic trinket to hold back his flowing black locks; an item that he insisted was a barbarian¡¯s crown, despite continued accusations from his party that the golden item would probably be more appropriate attire for an elven princess.


    Unlike his taste in jewelry, one thing few would dare to question was his full body suit of arcane tattoos: a powerful enhancement seldom seen outside the upper echelons of the most powerful magic-based prison-gangs. The full-body layer of arcane ink offered him enhanced durability that few warriors could hope to match, making him the go-to choice for a party member who can take excessive amounts of damage, and an obvious choice to lead the way into unknown territory such as this. Physically, he was the strongest fighter on the raid party, and came with an ego to match.


    But with a level 7 status, 6 points in strength and 7 points in armed combat, his leader Nyx was no slouch in the combat stakes, either. Unlike Craynor, she also had impressive speed (5 points), and knew the importance of cultivating her leadership skill (6 points). Important areas, amongst others, in which she left the hulking brute in the dust.


    The hulking brute in question suddenly tripped, before letting loose a volley of expletives. Nyx rolled her eyes. As was his custom, the tank would spend the next few minutes berating the two dwarves she¡¯d hired to scout ahead, blaming them for not using their night vision to watch where he was going. She sighed, using the small break as an opportunity to regain a little stamina. The mission was becoming a logistical nightmare: a twenty-five warrior raid party, all under her leadership, trapped in a bottleneck that they could barely navigate, let alone walk in. They were clearly asking for trouble.


    That said, the combatant immediately behind her was having no such difficulty navigating the hellish landscape: G¡¯rrak was tall and slender, a fallen class avatar of all things. And right up until the moment that he had started talking to himself, the perverted demon had been in excellent spirits. Chiefly, because he¡¯d been more than satisfied to stare at Nyx¡¯s behind as she awkwardly scrambled to keep up with Craynor, professing that the sight did wonders for his ¡®motivation.¡¯ That good cheer was cut short when he received the call from what she could only assume had been his superior. Now she saw a change in his demeanor; the demon looked like something had put the fear of god (or perhaps, the devil) into it.


    ¡°Thank the gods-¡± she cried, as the demon finally stopped apologizing to the voices in its head and said its goodbyes.


    ¡°Oi, choose yer words carefully, love,¡± protested the overgrown imp, cutting the amazon off mid-sentence. ¡°That sort of talk is blasphemy to my kind,¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± she continued, undaunted by his concerns. ¡°I thought that fucking call was never going to end. Who the hell was that, anyway?


    G¡¯rrak sighed. ¡°If you must know, it was our glorious leader,¡± he explained.


    ¡°The Dungeon Warden? In your head? Fuck, he sure keeps you ugly bastards on a tight leash, eh? When you went fallen class, I figured you sold your soul for a bit more respect than that.¡±


    The demon growled. Nyx couldn¡¯t help winding him up. G¡¯rrak wasn¡¯t as bad as most of his kind. But still, how she loved getting under his dark crimson skin. Between his incessant ogling and the stench of brimstone that she was convinced was emanating from his bowels (and not ¡®the bowels of hell¡¯ as he repeatedly tried to suggest), there was a lot not to like. But he seemed harmless enough. As harmless as a seven-foot-tall demonic general with sharpened bone plates extruding from his arms could be, at any rate.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°What did the little creep want, then?¡± she asked. Did he have more intel for our quest?¡±


    ¡°Pffft, the dungeon core doesn¡¯t revolve around you lot¡­,¡± retorted the demon, ¡°¡­I¡¯ve got plenty of other problems on my plate, too. Now be quiet, I¡¯m tryin¡¯ to telepathically contact S¡¯ragg.¡± He waved her off with one hand as he pressed a spindly finger to his forehead with the other, reassuring the amazon that his next conversation would be of the more internal variety. ¡°It takes concentration,¡± he continued. ¡°So, I could do without distractions from the cattle, thank-you very much.¡±


    ¡°That ability is the one thing I envy you, G¡¯rrak,¡± she admitted, ignoring the demon¡¯s unsettling tendency to label the humans as ¡®cattle.¡¯ She didn¡¯t need to worry about his appetites¡­ the creature knew better than to try to eat her, or any member of her party. As for his coveted telepathy, he didn¡¯t need a mindreading skill to know what was currently on his mind: his yellow eyes were firmly locked on to her chest: all six of them.


    She allowed him that small pleasure as he mentally began relaying instructions to the other demon. It was always good to have the favor of a guard, and his excessive number of eyes aside, she didn¡¯t particularly mind the attention. Who, she reasoned, could blame him for his interest. Her muscular amazon frame was aesthetically impressive, and had earned her a great many admirers since her initial spawning two years prior. Her hair was a severe buzz-cut cropped tight to her head (she¡¯d quickly deemed the flowing locks of her avatar little more than an unnecessary distraction for one living a life of constant battle) and her physique walked a fine line between femininity and raw power. The armor upon said frame, as was often the case for the berserker-type human, seemed to heavily protect some areas, while leaving others completely exposed, as if the designer had given much more thought to design aesthetic than practicality. Designed by a horny male, she¡¯d decided, if the focus on her cleavage was to be any indication. And speaking of guys who really need to get laid¡­


    ¡°You know, this breastplate has magical resistance, so if you¡¯re hoping to develop a perception skill that can see past my chest armor, you may as well give up now,¡± she advised the demon with a sly wink, deciding that she¡¯d probably abided his lechery for long enough.


    The demon, suddenly conscious of his ungentlemanly behavior, averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his emaciated neck as he stared into the glimmering ball of energy that hovered overhead, thankful for the distraction of his portable mana light. The amazon went back to her previous point, sparing him further embarrassment.


    ¡°So yeah, that ¡®demonic telepathy¡¯ talent of yours. Leading a raid party this size through a narrow bottleneck makes communication next to impossible. A skill like that would be a godsen- um, oops, sorry. Would be a great addition to my repertoire. I¡¯m sure the Warden wouldn¡¯t mind you passing it along. It would be for the greater good of the dungeon, after all.¡±


    Nyx shamelessly pushed her chest out. She wasn¡¯t above using her body to acquire new skills, and telepathy would be a perk worthy of even this unsavory prospect. For a moment G¡¯rrak looked shocked. The expression was quickly replaced with one of frustration.


    ¡°Sorry, no can do, love. It ain¡¯t a learnable skill, see? Comes with the demon biology. Anyhow, believe you me, you ain¡¯t missin¡¯ much. You do not want to go enterin¡¯ the depraved mind-space of the other prisoners unless you really have to. Take S¡¯ragg, fer example. He¡¯s the welcome party I was just orginizin¡¯ fer the latest pack of noobs. I feel dirty every time I so much as take a peak in that sick bastard¡¯s head.


    ¡°Fuck! If you feel dirty, it must be bad.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm.¡± He replied, nodding in agreement. ¡°If that weirdo¡¯s subconscious is anything to go by, I have my suspicions that his arrest had somethin¡¯ to do with finding unnatural new uses for farm animals. And I ain¡¯t talkin¡¯ fusion cuisine.¡±


    Nyx shuddered at the thought. G¡¯rrak was a soul-sucking pervert, that much was obvious, but at least he stuck to his own species. Well, his former species, at any rate.


    ¡°Rather you than me,¡± she replied. There was no point in pressing the issue. Telepathy was clearly a dead end. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡±


    G¡¯rrak went back to relaying orders to his fellow demon, so the party leader returned her gaze to her grumpy tank. Tantrum over, Craynor was finally making headway again. The opportunity to rest now past, the orb of mana that lit her way began to drift forward, and she went back to focusing on the crawl at hand. G¡¯rrak, in turn, went back to staring at her avatar¡¯s perfect ass.


    No entrance this unwelcoming can bode well for what it leads to, she told herself, as the cave walls continued to scratch at her exposed flesh, shaving off HP with every cut and scrape.


    Half an hour passed, as the party Wordlessly ventured further into the cavern. The raid party had been venturing single file for almost an hour, and Nyx knew they would be tired and hungry. But she was responsible for their safety, and she wasn¡¯t going to risk being ambushed in such a precarious position. Rations would have to wait. They ventured on.


    Eventually, the cavern led them to a rocky opening. The dwarves were the first to jump into the new area, and shortly after, gave the all clear for the party to do the same. Nyx watched the tank squeeze through the fissure next. The fact that he too had to leap down suggested a much more spacious area.


    ¡°Look at the size of this chamber,¡± announced Craynor with a whistle, piquing her interest.


    She poked her head through the gap, quickly realizing that the claustrophobic tunnel gave way to a vast, hall-like space. And there was only one possible reason for a chamber of this size so deep in an abandoned dungeon. It was a fucking boss lair.

 Chapter 3.1

    The goblins threw open the door of the rickety central structure and tossed me in, causing me to land roughly on my ass at the cost of a further HP point.


    Great, so what¡¯s this then, I mused. The larder?


    I quickly got to my feet, pulling up my status menu as I did so. It was already becoming second nature, like using one of my more conventional senses. Instinctively, I revisited the ¡®location¡¯ tab.


    LOCATION ¨C High priests¡¯ settlement.


    PURPOSE ¨C Circle of judgement. Priests are the primary arborators of justice in the world of Atone Online.


    MAPS ¨C Warning, this realm exists on its own dimensional plane. No maps available.


    Hmmm, no new information. I¡¯d hoped being inside the building would give me extra detail, in the same way as picking up the branch had given me access to its durability, but no such luck. Something I did notice, however, was a new tab; announcements.


    I¡¯d lost track of the flurry of messages as they kicked the pixels out of my nice new avatar, the pain attached to each strike distracting me from the consequences. But it looked like I¡¯d developed a ¡®history file¡¯, of sorts, allowing me to scroll back over any earlier messages I may have overlooked. There wasn¡¯t much to be learned: there were numerous warnings about dropping HP that all could be summed up by one overarching statement: you are on the receiving end of a good kicking, you¡¯re fucked.


    Seeing it laid out like this did hammer home one important point: I¡¯d lost an awful lot of HP, and I wasn¡¯t exactly out of the woods yet. I had no doubt the goblins who threw me in here were waiting outside, and would still need to fight my way out of this. So, with that in mind, I hurriedly checked my health status.


    HP: 24/80


    Not a great start to my new career as a warrior, admittedly. But hopefully my beating had bought Mai the time that she needed to escape. Why were they so keen to attack my helper, I wondered? And for that matter, why had they stopped short of killing me?


    My thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open again. I took up a defensive stance but quickly broke it to cushion the fall of my fellow captive. Mai had been thrown in with me, and the doors were promptly slammed behind her.


    ¡°I thought I told you to run,¡± I complained, casting her a disappointed look as I helped her back to her feet.


    ¡°They caught up to me,¡± she replied, stating the obvious as she sneered in the direction of the door, adding: ¡°Bunch of meanies.¡±


    The elf advised me that she needed a moment to sync to our new locations help files, so I left her to it, seizing my first real opportunity to study my shoddy surroundings. In doing so, I quickly realized that if my first ¡®quest¡¯ was to seek out judgement, then I¡¯d probably ended up in just the place. The layout of the hut¡¯s interior was not as church-like as I¡¯d anticipated it to be. In fact, it was furnished more like a primitive-looking variation of a courtroom, roughly fashioned to mimic its IRL equivalent. Aside from a golden set of scales that sat on a podium in the center of the room, bones and animal furs appeared to be the primary choice of embellishment for the basic wooden interior. Seeing the remains of dead creatures repurposed into decorations did little to put me at ease, but at least none of them appeared to be human, and there was no sign of a sacrificial altar. We were the room¡¯s sole occupants. An oddity, given its obvious purpose. Where was the jury? And more importantly, where the hell was the judge?


    -[You have been successfully uploaded to subprogram JudgeJury021A]-


    ¡­announced my status system. Mai flashed me a smile, then a thumbs-up, suggesting that my newfound access to additional information was probably her doing. Well, that pretty much confirmed it, then. This was where sentencing would take place. But that still didn¡¯t explain why they attacked my help file. Was she even supposed to be helping me, I wondered? Without warning, paranoia entered my thoughts: was she a virus sent to lead me astray, and had the goblins been sent by the system to delete her?


    I watched with suspicion as Mai looked around for a moment, quietly taking in her surroundings. When her gaze finally returned to mine, she looked a lot more serious than I had first imagined her capable.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°This is bad,¡± she fretted. ¡°You¡¯ve been uploaded into the artificial mind of Siriso.¡±


    ¡°Who or what the hell is Siriso?¡± I asked, keeping all concerns over her nature to myself. It could be unfounded, after all.


    ¡°He¡¯s a digitized consciousness,¡± she confirmed, her glare darting around the room as she spoke, as if concerned that the NPC in question may be present. Once again, my suspicions were aroused. ¡°But a pure one,¡± she continued, oblivious to my scrutiny, ¡°not a recent convert like yourself. His AI is waaaay more complex than mine. We call him an overbyte, because he¡¯s able to oversee huge swathes of the program.


    ¡°So, he¡¯s powerful, then?¡±


    ¡°Totally. He usually takes the form of a priest, but that¡¯s just an act of modesty. His abilities are something much closer to deity-level. He can build islands like this one with a thought, and I¡¯ve heard that he can converse with over a hundred humans at once. He¡¯s probably interacting with other prisoners in huts exactly like this as we speak. But with much less personality than yours truly, I should add.¡± She fluttered her eyelashes as she made her final point.


    ¡°But even if that¡¯s so, where¡¯s everyone else?¡± I protested. ¡°The jury, for a start?¡±


    ¡°Siriso will be your judge, jury, and should he so decree, ah¡­¡± she gulped audibly, before continuing. ¡°Your executioner.¡±


    Great. That last part was more than I needed to know. I wanted to protest, demand that I be judged by my human peers. But then, these digital creatures were my peers, my captors had seen to that. They had me right where they wanted me. And that infuriated me.


    ¡°If we¡¯re just floating in this overpowered AI¡¯s mind, what¡¯s with the primitive hut? The settlement outside? Hell, the whole damn island? Why go to all this trouble?¡±


    ¡°The hut is just a virtual construct for your benefit, much like the game itself,¡± she continued. ¡°The first thing they teach us about you flesh-born types is how much you like everything to be presented to you in a basic, linear format. Case in point. You see those scales over there?¡±


    I nodded as she pointed to the ornate gold scales at the head of the room.


    ¡°That¡¯s what Siriso will be using to weigh up your crimes.¡±


    ¡°Like the guardian of the Egyptian underworld,¡± I whispered.


    The elf nodded. Admittedly, that particular nugget of wisdom came from a movie I once saw, not from any great knowledge of ancient mythology.


    ¡°Hang on, the ghoul we encountered before I crossed the sea of code was Norahc, right?¡±


    The elf agreed.


    ¡°Norach. Siriso. They''re reversed versions of Charon, the ferryman of souls and Osiris, god of death and transition... I¡¯m headed to my digital afterlife, aren¡¯t I?


    ¡°That¡¯s right¡± she chirped, clapping her hands in glee, before some internal sub-routine made her realize that probably wasn¡¯t appropriate, given the circumstances.


    ¡°Fuck me, they don¡¯t even belong to the same religion. Isn¡¯t there anything your corporate bosses¡¯ won¡¯t bastardise or exploit these days? Who¡¯s my pallbearer going to be, Buddha? Did Odin do the catering for my funeral?¡±


    Mai either chose to ignore my flippant remark, or simply didnt understand it. She¡¯d gone back to eying up my avatar. I was expecting another inappropriate comment about my ass, but instead, she said:


    ¡°You were smart to pick an avatar that came with no rep penalty,¡± adding ¡°trust me, that¡¯s not the only baggage you can carry into the game¡­¡±


    So, she was trying to manipulate me with the ¡®sexy swordsman¡¯ talk, then. But to what end? Whatever her reasons, that knowledge didn¡¯t put me at ease over my so-called ¡®quest¡¯ for judgement. If I understood things correctly, this ¡®Siriso¡¯ NPC was either going to transfer me on to serve my time or snuff me out. Human emotion was no longer a consideration in my fate. No, my future hung on the whims of some more-programmed-than-thou AI, as it balanced my real-world actions against some aging spreadsheet held deep in its file structure. Great.


    Still, despite my concerns, Mai¡¯s presence was oddly calming. Her hand slipped into mine as she did her best to comfort me, and I felt guilty for being suspicious of her. And yeah, I knew her personality was programmed, but she seemed genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. It was good to know something in here was.


    ¡°Oh-oh, it¡¯s starting,¡± she cried, clasping my hand a little tighter.


    An eerie swarm of disembodied data began to take form on the judge¡¯s podium. Purely for my benefit, I had to assume. My judge was, after all, little more than code, and from what I understood, I¡¯d been uploaded directly into its mind. And what the hell use did an AI have for a seat inside its own damn head.


    When the flurry of code finally settled, it was humanoid in shape. Tall and gangly, it exhibited no signs of physical power. But I already understood that there was a lot more to this game than physical power, thanks to my time spent studying the wizard template. The NPC was male in its design, dressed more like a witch doctor than any high priest I¡¯d ever seen. Not that I was a regular churchgoer, admittedly. Perhaps, I thought to myself, it was an amalgamation of the two.


    The figure stepped down from its podium, ornate robes bellowing behind it, and silently began to approach me. Its body was hunched as if its huge, ceremonial hat was burdening it to the point of fatigue. Its form, while predominantly human, definitely had a few goblin traits mixed in there as well. This time it was I who squeezed Mai¡¯s hand a little tighter. Within seconds, the priest was face to face with my avatar, regarding me with soulless, yellow eyes. It stared for a moment. Eventually, it chose to address me.


    ¡°So, yet another tainted soul finally arrives at my door, burdened with the quest for judgement¡­¡± The creature¡¯s voice trailed off into nothing. Suddenly, the goblinoid raised its arms in mock jubilation. ¡°And hopefully, the thirst for redemption,¡± it excitedly added, turning to me with a manic zeal in its eyes.


    I didn¡¯t answer. It wasn¡¯t like I was here by choice, after all. Undaunted, the odd NPC looked straight into my eyes and flashed an unsettling, sadistic smile.

 Chapter 3.2

    Siriso silently stared at me. Despite his frail-looking avatar, I¡¯d never felt so vulnerable in all of my life. These were my pearly gates, and this, apparently, was my new god. And if he was as powerful as Mai suggested he was, the creepy bastard could probably will me out of existence with little more than a thought. Afraid to address the powerful NPC, I was beginning to worry that my silence might somehow equate to guilt in the old goblinoids eyes. So, despite my fears of what penalty this emotionless thing would decree, I willed it to speak again. And to my relief, speak again it did.


    ¡°Another stack of electronic waste for me to sift through. When oh when will it end..?¡± mumbled the priest to himself.


    Okay, perhaps his words didn¡¯t fill me with that much relief¡­


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk to him like that,¡± cut in Mai in my defense. ¡°Can¡¯t you see that he¡¯s frightened.¡±


    Hey. I thought I was coming across as ¡®stoically macho. Damn, I must try harder.¡¯


    ¡°Court is in session, elf,¡± spat the priest in response, his voice now noticeably more agitated. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have to suffer pointy-eared vermin in my place of power. Begone.¡±


    And he¡¯s racist toward elves, too, I thought to myself. Great. Because who better to sentence me than a judge who pre-judges people?


    To her credit, Mai held her ground.


    ¡°The client invoked the help file,¡± she protested, standing firm, ¡°so I have every right to be here with him.¡±


    Siriso sighed, rolling his slightly luminous, yellow eyes. ¡°Impudent underbyte. I should have let the goblins feed on you, back when I had the chance.¡± He scratched his bony chin, letting out a loud exasperated sigh. ¡°Very well,¡± he eventually declared, albeit with a dismissive flick of his wrist in the elf¡¯s direction. ¡°Stay. Listen. See if I care. But do not dare interrupt me again, girlie, or it¡¯ll be your performance I choose to judge next.¡±


    Mai fell silent. She looked nervous, and to be fair, I couldn¡¯t blame her. I already knew how powerful he was, but something about the old coot¡¯s demeanor made me equally uneasy. Satisfied that his threat had been well made, Siriso returned his gaze to me. Unexpectedly, his eyes softened as he reached my avatar, and his hand reached out to my shoulder in a gesture that could almost be mistaken for support.


    ¡°I know this must be confusing for you, child. But try to think of me like the anti-virus software of old. It is simply my job to scan your code, routing out the malicious elements for the greater good.¡±


    ¡°To what end?¡± I asked. I was sure he was well aware that I already knew the answer to the question: the fear in my voice was obvious. But I wanted him to confirm it.


    ¡°Well, I may choose to delete you¡­¡± he began, throwing out the possibility with alarming offhandedness, ¡°¡­but that¡¯s not usually my preferred choice of action,¡± he quickly added.


    ¡°Delete me?¡± I gasped. A wave of fear hit me. And yeah, Mai had warned me already, but hearing his cold callous delivery of my complete and utter destruction was still shocking, to say the least. With not much left to lose, and a burning desire to retain what little data I had left, I challenged him on this. ¡°How the hell is killing me supposed to help me ¡®atone¡¯ for my crimes?


    ¡°Well you won¡¯t do it again, will you?¡± he replied, chuckling to himself. I didn¡¯t join him in his gaiety, oddly enough. ¡°But let me assure you,¡± he continued, his voice abruptly becoming more serious. ¡°Deletion is a fate I reserve only for those individuals whose code is truly corrupted beyond repair.¡±


    ¡°The fact the option¡¯s even on the table is totally fucked up,¡± I protested. ¡°That¡¯s not a bloody ¡®quest for judgement¡¯, that¡¯s suicide.¡±


    The goblinoid looked mildly frustrated by my impudence. It leaned in until we were nose to pointy nose. To my dismay, the olive-skinned priest smelt just as bad as he looked.


    ¡°What is a quest without risk, child?¡± he asked me, using that increasingly condescending tone of his.


    ¡°Child?¡± I protested. ¡°I know my ¡®artificial¡¯ AI is only newborn, but that doesn¡¯t mean you need to treat me like one,¡± I spat.


    ¡°Please, calm yourself. You artificial AI¡¯s, always so damn emotional. Look, this outcome is by no means guaranteed¡­ I may simply choose to quarantine you, so that you might one day be cleansed of your corruption...¡±


    His grip tightened on my shoulder as he relayed these words of ¡®comfort¡¯, his goblin-like claws clamping down hard against my skin. I was preparing myself for further flowery attempts to justify my digital destruction, when suddenly and without warning, he drove his other hand deep into my chest, slicing through my avatar like it wasn¡¯t even there.


    -[ Goblin h./gh priest dissects y0u for -15 dam//age. ]-


    -[ Warning: this action has a damage over time effect. -5 HP per minute. ]-


    In the blink of an eye, I was in agony. Mai¡¯s grip tightened on my arm, as she silently tried to lend me her strength. I gritted my teeth as I felt his fingers begin poking around inside my avatar. And yet the priest¡¯s face remained calm, dispassionate, as if this was little more than business as usual. I realized that for the artificial creature, it probably was. The bastard AI was inside me, searching for something.


    ¡°Accessing history file and commencing judgment,¡± declared the priest, coldly.


    I writhed in pain as memories of my real-life crimes began to flash before my eyes, each one forcing me to relive the dishonorable actions that had brought me here. One after one, my memories hit me with the speed of a bullet train, and just as painfully. I was reliving my sins in the blink of an eye.


    ¡°Recalibrating,¡± he announced, reaching back and adjusting the scale with his other hand. ¡°Emotional reaction logged,¡± it continued, exhibiting no such emotion of its own.


    I wanted to cry, but it seemed that my frozen avatar was no longer even capable of that small thing: I was powerless to do anything but observe, enduring an agony that was both physical and mental. Mai looked on in sympathy, while the priest¡¯s hand worked me like a puppet, choosing what string to pull next.


    ¡°Recalibrating¡­ Uploading the statement of your attorney¡­ Recalibrating... Factoring in the subject¡¯s actions during the goblin trial¡­¡±


    ¡°G-goblin¡­ t-trial?¡± I stammered, barely capable of forcing the words from my stricken avatar.


    ¡°You did good, leaping to my defense like that,¡± said Mai by way of explanation, stroking my arm. ¡°Siriso was judging your character.¡±


    ¡°Y-you mean we w-weren¡¯t in danger?¡± I managed, fighting against the paralysis that wracked my body, while the sadistic priest continued his work.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t, no,¡± she replied, rubbing my arm. ¡°But those goblins would have torn my code asunder if you hadn¡¯t stepped in. as an underbyte, I¡¯m kinda disposable. I really do owe you my life.¡±


    -[ Goblin h./gh priest dissects y0u for -15 dam//age. ]-


    As the agony continued, and my remaining HP slowly slipped away, I breathed a small sigh of relief that my actions had somehow been worthwhile. I couldn¡¯t not have intervened, it wasn¡¯t in my nature to stand back and let someone take a beating on my behalf. But it angered me to think that this bastard ¡®priest¡¯ had put her in danger, all for his little ¡®test.¡¯ What if I hadn¡¯t been so inclined to help her? I wondered. She could have been allocated to any other criminal, and in my old life, I¡¯d known plenty of guys who wouldn¡¯t have thought twice about abandoning her. Hell, considering the circles I used to run in, most of those guys would have sat back and watched the elf get torn apart just for kicks. How dare this pompous prick use my only ally like this.


    I wanted to rip his head off his shoulders, but I was still powerless to move. And like it or not, my continued existence was only at his good grace. So instead, I tried to focus on that rage, blocking out the pain as best I could. Finally, wordlessly, the priest found what it was after, ripping a neon stream of code from my avatar¡¯s chest. It wisped through the air and into an oddly modern looking folder that had at some point materialized in the creature¡¯s other hand. Exhausted, I fell back, my HP down to its last few points.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    -[ You have escaped from the goblin high priest¡¯s grasp. Damage over time effect neutralized. Warning, current HP 4/80 ]-


    Just like that, I regained control of my avatar, instinctively clutching my chest as my judge haphazardly tossed a sliver of my code onto the scales. I almost fell to the floor, my body weakened, but Mai was there to catch me. She did her best to keep me balanced, helping me over to one of the primitive seats, where she carefully sat me down.


    -[ You have received a healing buff. HP +20 ]-


    A what?


    When I looked to Mai¡¯s hands, I realized that they were now pressed against my chest and that they were glowing. So, the elf was a healer, then. It made sense, she was created purely to help others, after all, and what better skill was there for that purpose. I made to thank her, but she shushed me and nodded toward Siriso.


    The folder that I could only assume contained a scrap of my code lay on one side of the weighing device. We watched in silence as he plucked a single feather from his headdress, and delicately placed it on the opposing scale. The feather was outweighed by my sins. Just as I expected it would be.


    ¡°Judgement has been reached,¡± declared Siriso, gesturing toward the scale.


    ¡°Here we go,¡± added Mai, nervously.


    The priest approached us and spoke again.


    ¡°Judgement has been passed at 04:26AM, on the eighth day of the winter cycle, in the year 2134. A unanimous resolution has been passed by the system. Jacob Mathers, as you already understand, your consciousness has been reformatted to personaware, and your meat media has been decommissioned. Having invoked your right to have your data retained, your code is now the property of Atonement Incorporated, and this is a duty of care that we take very seriously¡­¡±


    Yes, yes, I know all this. Get the fuck on with it. Am I being damned, or am I being deleted?


    ¡°Rejoice. You have thrown yourself upon our mercy, and we have judged you worthy of redemption.¡±


    Redemption? Well, thank the server¡­


    Mai smiled at me, and I suddenly felt all my pent-up tension release from my exhausted body. The moment was punctuated by a well-timed status message.


    -[ You have received a healing buff. HP +20 ]-


    I was feeling stronger. And it was good to know the elf wasn¡¯t wasting her time healing me. Now all I needed, was to know what my redemption actually consisted of.


    ¡°You have earned the right to fight for your rebirth. Atonement Incorporated have the resources to clone a new body for your consciousness, and are committed to doing so should you succeed¡­¡±


    This revelation completely threw me for a loop. A new body. A literal rebirth, not just some digital equivalent. Perhaps I wasn¡¯t finished, after all¡­


    ¡°To this end, you will enter the Atone Online server with a reputation penalty of -30,¡± continued the priest, addressing my earlier unspoken question about my penance. ¡°Ten rep points for each of your offences. Atonement is set at a goal of +30. In summary, you must raise your reputation by sixty points in total in order to achieve atonement, and in doing so, earn your release.¡±


    My stomach tightened. Or whatever passed for my stomach nowadays, at any rate. Minus 30. That was worse than the penalty for choosing the fallen class avatars. And if rep points were anything like the social scores that we were forced to endure by the world government IRL, a minus thirty rep rating could take me years to work off. And not only that, but I had to achieve the same again to earn my new ¡®meat media¡¯? Fuck!


    -[ You have received a healing buff. HP +20 ]-


    I suddenly realized that I was damned, after all, and that it was going to take a lot more than a quick HP boost from a well-intentioned elf to save me. It was bad enough that this creature was casting me into some mysterious hell and leaving me to claw my own way out. But now the pompous program was attaching weights to my ankles, as well. I was royally screwed.


    ¡°However,¡± the NPC continued, somewhat unexpectedly. ¡°You have shown an unusual amount of honor in defeat. You willingly removed the threat you presented to society when you chose to turn yourself in¡­¡±


    I did? Shit, why didn¡¯t I know this? Just how much of my memory is gone?


    ¡°¡­and the testimony you provided upon your arrest assisted the authorities in curbing a much greater threat to our glorious utopia than a mere street thug such as yourself could ever have posed, alone.¡±


    Again, I was at a loss. I couldn¡¯t remember any of this. In fact, now that I tried, I found that I couldn¡¯t even recall my crime. Had they deliberately destroyed my memories of the actions that put me here? Was this their version of giving me a blank slate to start from? Had they reduced my crime to a number, and nothing more?


    ¡°In consideration of these acts, 10 reputation points are to be returned to you,¡± he continued. ¡°As a result, you will enter the game with a reputation of -20, setting your required target to ascend at 50 rep points in total.¡±


    Thank the gods. I thought to myself. It was still going to be an uphill struggle, but I was quickly getting my head around the system at play. It must take a rep figure of +30 to ¡®atone¡¯ for -30 worth of crimes, almost like a weird version of karma. But before I could even begin earning those 30 points, I had to start by balancing the scales back to zero. Thanks to my cooperation with the authorities IRL, it seemed that I¡¯d already reduced my sentence, slightly. But from this point onwards, it would be my actions in-game that determined my fate.


    -[ You have received a healing buff. Full health restored. ]-


    Mai shot me a satisfied grin. I mouthed the words ¡®thank you.¡¯


    ¡°It has also been recorded that you have shown true remorse for your actions¡­¡±, continued the priest.


    Ah! So that¡¯s why they made me relive my crimes¡­ they were judging my reaction...


    ¡°¡­this has been factored into the number of base stats you have been allocated,¡± it continued. ¡°You have been awarded the standard base points for a prisoner of your standing, plus four extra points to distribute as you may see fit.¡±


    The priest summoned four glowing balls of energy in the palm of his hand. The energy immediately darted toward me, swirling around my avatar before entering the faint scar of my digital chest-wound.


    -[ You have been awarded 4 unallocated base points. ]-


    ¡­confirmed the voice of my status system.


    ¡°May they aid you on your request for atonement,¡± added the goblin, oddly respectfully. With that, the priest made his way to the scales, lifted the folder, and with a flash of energy from his fingertips, destroyed it.


    ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa,¡± I cried, hang on a minute.¡± I turned to Mai, my heart pounding. ¡°I thought you said I wouldn¡¯t lose any more data from this point. That bastard just deleted my memories.¡±


    ¡°Not deleted. They¡¯ve just been reformatted, silly,¡± replied the elf, helping me back to my feet.


    ¡°Into numbers?¡±


    ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s much better this way. You¡¯ll find it so much easier to move on if you can¡¯t remember what you did to get here.¡±


    What if I don¡¯t deserve to? I wondered.


    ¡°Your gold has been set at 150 units,¡± Siriso continued, tossing a bag of coins to my feet. ¡°Spend this wisely. The choices you make in the next few minutes will greatly affect your new start, and in turn, greatly affect your odds of a successful redemption.¡±


    I crouched down and collected the small sack. Yet another status message sounded in my head, this one confirming that the gold had been added to my coin purse.


    ¡°Oh, and one more thing¡­¡±


    The goblinoid reached out, pausing Mai where she stood. A distortion flickered across her vulnerable avatar, betraying the illusion of our virtual world.


    ¡°What did you do to her?¡± I demanded.


    Siriso sneered. ¡°Heh. Your newfound concern for artificial life is touching, if somewhat misplaced. Don¡¯t worry, the ¡®help¡¯ is merely paused. You shall both be parting ways shortly, and it is important that the final part of our conversation isn¡¯t overheard by one so¡­ inconsequential.¡±


    -[ Quest received from user: High priest Siriso. Would you like to view further detail? ]-


    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± I asked him, staring at an unfamiliar translucent panel that was now hovering before me. I¡¯d much rather have asked Mai, but it seemed I was out of options.


    The NPC looked around the room as if worried that he might be observed. There was definitely something shifty creeping into his demeanor. ¡°Your attempts to redeem yourself IRL have impressed me,¡± he finally announced. ¡°So much so, in fact, that you have won yourself a boon.¡±


    Siriso didn¡¯t seem like the generous type, and to my frustration, his answer didn¡¯t shed any light on the quest itself. With no other way to get the information I needed, I clicked yes.


    NEW QUEST ¨C Siriso¡¯s secret quest.


    The goblin high priest has granted you an important mission.


    Goal: Hidden.


    Type of quest ¨C Hidden.


    Reward: Hidden.


    Rep effect ¨C Hidden.


    Accept Y/N?


    ¡°There¡¯s secret, and then there¡¯s overkill,¡± I complained. ¡°How the hell can I complete a quest without knowing any of the damn details?¡±


    ¡°The mission will not show up on your status system, and for now the details shall remain hidden. But let me assure you, completing this task on my behalf shall increase your odds of escape greatly.¡±


    I figured what the hell. Any shortcut on offer was worth further investigation. With that, I selected ¡®yes¡¯.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± replied the creature, doing his best impression of Mr Burns from those vintage ¡®Simpsons¡¯ cartoons. ¡°For now, the item will show up in your inventory as a scrap of blank paper. The quest will only be revealed when accessed in complete privacy. Oh, and I should probably point out, the penalty for allowing others to learn of this quest will be much worse than deletion, believe you me.¡±


    The priest made his way back to his podium, throwing both gangly arms out in a grand, sweeping gesture.


    ¡°Sentence has been passed,¡± he announced. ¡°Before entering the game, one final task awaits you¡­ skill and weapon selection. It is time to allocate your hard-won gold and base points. Choose carefully, my fledgling AI. The success of our ¡®agreement¡¯ now hinges on your choices going forward, and I am expecting great things from you, Jacob¡­¡±


    No pressure, then¡­


    ¡°Prepare to leave Jacob Mathers behind,¡± he continued. ¡°May the gods of Atone Online smile favorably upon you, and your attempts to re-integrate into the physical world be a success.¡±


    As I quietly wondered what the hell I¡¯d just gotten myself into, the priest dissipated into a stream of code, vanishing just as quickly as he had arrived. With his disappearance, my status window forced itself open, but this time it was displaying a new, unfamiliar screen. Stat allocation.


    Mai suddenly unfroze behind me. She looked panicked, immediately alerting me to an object that had appeared by my feet: an hourglass. It was all that remained of my 10-minute avatar selection window, and to my horror, the sand was almost gone.


    Shit! There were no two ways about it. I¡¯d been cast into hell, and this was my last chance to prepare myself. It was time to finish building my avatar and kick some fantasy-world ass.

 The Raid Party - 2

    ¡°This is some serious real estate,¡± announced the party¡¯s tank, surveying what little of the chamber his flickering mana orb would permit. ¡°We can build an entire wing down here once we¡¯ve claimed it. Of course, we¡¯ll have to widen that damn pokey entrance. But once we do, the Dungeon Warden will pay us a fucking fortune for this place.¡±


    ¡°Only if we¡¯re the party who conquer it,¡± added Nyx, exiting the cramped cavern and dropping to the ground. No longer constrained by the claustrophobic cave, she began to stretch every limb, savoring her freedom. ¡°If we suddenly start respawning back at our own wing, it won¡¯t be long before word gets out. And then every damned gang in the prison will be putting together a raid party and showing up with the same idea. If we¡¯re doing this, we need to get it done right, first time.¡±


    ¡°Just as well I don¡¯t plan on dying then, eh?¡± replied Craynor with a smirk, nonchalantly twirling his axe as he spoke.


    Nyx shook her head. The barbarian was confident, but to a fault.


    Hell quickly followed at her heels, as G¡¯rrak was next to drop from the fissure, his gangly form easily navigating the cramped exit. ¡°Don¡¯t scout too far ahead,¡± called the demon to the tank. That¡¯s what the dwarves are for, remember?¡±


    The dwarves, not particularly overjoyed by the prospect of wandering deeper into a darkened, unexplored boss lair, gave the demon a few offensive hand gestures, before reluctantly venturing into the unknown. Neither was armed with anything more than a basic, non-enchanted axe, their low-level combat skills incapable of wielding anything more powerful.


    Nyx smiled. She couldn¡¯t imagine being so weak in such a dangerous place, but the little bastard¡¯s enhanced vision was a godsend when it came to exploring unlit, unclaimed dungeons. Most parties preferred to use rogues as scouts, but the amazon had a distrust for underworld types. Rogues were admittedly excellent at scouting ahead, but they were just as good at stealing most of the items they might happen to find there, while beyond their employers gaze. The dwarves were weak, a pair of noobs chosen specifically to keep her costs down. But she didn¡¯t care about their fodder-level combat abilities. Their night-vision was vastly superior to the magical trinkets that fluttered around the rest of the party¡¯s heads, barely lighting more than a few feet in front of them. And speaking of which¡­


    The summoner of said trinkets fell from the mouth of the tunnel with an undignified thud, knocking a few points off his own HP in the process, but bruising his ego even more so. Grandel was a level 4 wizard¡¯s apprentice, and like the dwarves, he was another ¡®contractor¡¯, of sorts. But unlike the dwarves, he had been an expensive addition to the party. The decision to hire such a costly warrior had not been a popular one amongst her men: putting a decent magic-user on the payroll just meant less loot for everyone else, when all was said and done. But Nyx had not always been part of such a physically-weighted force. Her days working with smaller independent parties had taught her the importance of deferring tasks to warriors better suited to specific roles. Yes, barbarians were impressive when it came to their shear strength and brutality (and she had twenty of the sweaty bastards under her command: strength was not something her organization would be lacking for, any time soon). But a wizard brought a whole new range of nonphysical skills to the party; healing and light-casting, to name but a few.


    Grandel respected Nyx. Her tendency to drop the word ¡®apprentice¡¯ from his title was particularly appreciated: he would have to rise 6 more levels before he could truly drop the apprentice tag, but he enjoyed the inflated sense of importance she gave him.


    Another generic-looking barbarian entered the cavern behind him, almost crushing the would-be wizard in the process. This newcomer was followed by a much more combat-orientated magic user: a level 4 gun mage. The odd amalgamation of wizard and gunslinger immediately began cursing out the barbarian for smoking in such a confined space. He looked puny beside the cigar-puffing meathead he was berating, and was promptly followed into the lair by a grumbling level 5 warlock. Nyx had hired the lower-tier spellcasters to be the party¡¯s sharpshooter and cannon, respectively. Another unpopular decision with her regular troops, but they were painfully low on warriors with decent range attacks, so she¡¯d won them around, in the end. She knew the wizard had a few attack spells up his ridiculously large sleeves, but if the shit hit the fan, he would be too busy casting heal on the other troops to join the fighting. The warlock, on the other hand, was made for combat. Plus his lower rep made him cheap, and he knew a few darker spells that the allegedly purer wizards tended to stay well clear of. He¡¯d already damned himself to learn the dark arts. Why she wondered, shouldn¡¯t she reap the rewards.


    The dwarves returned from the darkness, their natural night-sight having penetrated the distant darkness the wizard¡¯s magical trinkets couldn¡¯t hope to reach.


    ¡°Well?¡± asked Craynor, his voice tinged with excitement.


    ¡°Treasure chests,¡± replied the first dwarf, a ginger-haired wild-man dressed in little more than rags.


    ¡°And I¡¯m very happy to report, little else,¡± added the second, a balding individual in a light wood-paneled armor that was functional at best.


    This analysis was music to the party¡¯s ears. Since the warlock¡¯s arrival, three more barbarians had squeezed themselves through the narrow gap, and the prospect of loot was sure to quicken the pace of the others. Craynor began to subtly wander in the direction of the chests. Catching him out, Nyx ordered the tank to hold position.


    ¡°Wizard?¡± she announced, turning to the long-haired, incredibly stereotypical looking spellcaster.


    The apprentice understood what was being asked of him, and stepped forward. As the party member with the greatest magical perception, he was their early warning system, their monster radar. He pressed his palms together and closed his physical eyes. Then, with arms outstretched, Grandel began to survey the chamber not with his eyes, but with his mind¡¯s eye, searching the area for magically tainted threats that the dwarves may have missed in their more mundane assessment.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± the wizard-to-be eventually replied, his voice oozing an air of relief.


    Nyx nodded. Of course, the leader understood that this was no guarantee of their safety. Many species, like the lowborn orcs, possessed no magical trait. And many of the creatures that did, tended to port in out of thin air when a trigger somewhere in the chamber was activated. Add to this the fact that some bosses could mask their presence from lower level mages, and her early-warning system was far from foolproof. But she also knew that bosses were usually accompanied by weaker minions, and such creatures would find it harder to hide their presence.


    The gun mage, equally wary of this assessment, stood with his back to the wall near the entrance, arcane hand rifles raised, waiting to provide cover should the shit hit the fan.


    For some though, the ¡®wizard¡¯s declaration was all the confirmation they needed.


    ¡°Happy days,¡± declared Craynor, placing his axe on its holster and then rubbing his hands gleefully together. ¡°Okay Gandalf, throw some more light on this dump so we can get to the looting.¡±


    ¡°For the last time, my name¡¯s Grandel,¡± spat the apprentice, casting the party¡¯s tank a withering stare. It was met with a hand gesture that quickly summed up the barbarian¡¯s feelings about the physically weaker class of warrior.


    The apprentice cursed under his breath, then began mumbling a series of arcane commands, summoning a larger spear of light overhead. Mana swirled in the air above the party, collecting in a flat disc of energy that, while far from lighting the whole chamber, rendered the feeble mana torches redundant.


    Nyx smiled. She knew that the wizard was still apprentice rank, so he couldn¡¯t hope to fight back all the shadows in a vast chamber so devoid of natural light. But a lot more detail was now visible. The chamber had all the trappings of an abandoned throne-room, its ornate floor embellished with an impressive mosaic of some long-forgotten crest. Towering golden statues circled the room, each depicting perfect humans with perfect bodies: long forgotten gods, Nyx suspected. She couldn¡¯t be sure who they represented, but she knew damn well what they meant for her party: their metals would offer an excellent source of resources for the dungeon¡¯s crafters, bringing in yet more profit. Now that the light was stronger, she could even make out an upper balcony, something that could only aid the chamber¡¯s conversion into a new wing of the prison.


    All in all, she should have been ecstatic with this find. But two years in the dungeons had sharpened her instincts, and this just felt too good to be true. An empty dungeon large enough to house hundreds of prisoners, filled with loot chests, resources, and no boss?


    Oh well, she told herself, one thing at a time. The light confirmed that yes, there were chests everywhere. And chests had a habit of disappearing shortly after their discovery. The order was given to pair off and investigate, a standard tactic when dealing with unfamiliar chests. Because mimics masked their magical aura well, and liked nothing better than to take the form of innocent looking chests, gobbling up greedy adventurers as they dropped their guard in their moments of avarice. With this in mind, the two-warrior strategy was a simple one: one to open the chest, the other to stand by, weapon drawn, ready to strike.


    ¡°Remember,¡± she promptly added, as her troops set out in search of their potential payday. ¡°A big lair like this usually means a big boss. Keep your eyes peeled. Stay close to the entrance, where the light can reach you. We don¡¯t want to trigger anything before everyone¡¯s inside the chamber.¡±


    ¡°And if any of you meatheads finds any loot that would make a good gift for a baby shower, let me know,¡± added G¡¯rrak, unexpectedly. ¡°M¡¯keel¡¯s gettin¡¯ ready to pop any day now, and I haven¡¯t a fucking clue what to get him.¡±


    There were quite a few disgusted expressions at that last comment. Taking a prison wife was one thing, there were needs to be met, and not enough female prisoners to meet them. But male prisoners giving birth? That was another thing entirely.


    The dwarves took up sentry position on the fringes of the shadows, while the core party began to approach the newly illuminated chests. Nyx stood back and watched, keen to ensure that all gold found its way into the troop¡¯s shared inventory, and not the individual¡¯s coin purse. She called up her status menu, watching as said inventory began to fill with (alas, unimpressive) items. By now, almost half of the raid party had entered the ominous hall. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn¡¯t permit looting to begin until everyone was in the chamber. But the arrival of her remaining soldiers was painfully slow, and she couldn¡¯t risk the chests suddenly vanishing while they dawdled. And that begged one obvious question: ¡°What the fuck¡¯s keeping the other half of the party?¡± she spat, turning to her demon guard for answers.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    G¡¯rrak shrugged his gangly frame. Nyx wasn¡¯t particularly concerned for their missing muscle¡¯s safety: as party leader, she would have been alerted if they¡¯d come under attack. But it had been a full two minutes since the last barbarian entered the chamber. What the hell was going on? She was suddenly approached by one of her contractors, who was keen to offer his own assessment of the situation.


    ¡°Have you seen the pecs on some of those guys?¡± the warlock commented, striding up to her side. The dubious mage was bald, with a grey beard that appeared noticeably hipster in its styling. His ragged green robe was torn away at the shoulders, revealing muscular arms sleeved in the tattoos of his previous life. An underclass avatar, he¡¯d been hired out of necessity. But unlike the rogues, at least she could easily keep an eye on him.


    He pressed the back of his staff to his neck with both arms and stretched his back. ¡°You were lucky you managed to get any of those steroid pumped meatheads into the bloody cavern at all. I¡¯m just glad I had the savvy to get close to the front of the queue before some dumb bastard got himself stuck.¡±


    ¡°How can you be so sure that¡¯s what happened?¡± she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. The last thing she needed was a saboteur working on behalf of one of the arcane-class gangs.


    ¡°I may not have high-level magical perception like Harry Potter over there,¡± he began, ¡°but I can sense the mana charge in their weapons. There¡¯s a backlog a few feet from the fissure.¡±


    ¡®Harry Potter¡¯ nodded in agreement, as he continued to pour more mana into the flickering magical lights that circled their avatars. The Amazon sighed. She had her suspicions as to who was responsible. ¡®Tiny¡¯ had been a giant IRL, and adding barbarian traits to his original frame had only made the lumbering klutz even more colossal. Grandel shed some light on the opening, and sure enough, one of Tiny''s legs was hanging out of the crack at a very odd angle. She swore under her breath, instructing G¡¯rrak to go back and assist, reasoning that his gangly frame would be best suited to navigating the tunnel if anyone else was trapped further back.


    ¡°Dumb bastard,¡± she mumbled to herself, shaking her head. This sort of thing was happening too often, these days. Many of her best recruits had been recently promoted to lead their own parties, and the pack of knuckleheads she¡¯d been given as replacements left a lot to be desired. Speaking of which¡­


    ¡°Holy shit, look at this,¡± came the voice of an excited barbarian. It was unmistakably that of Craynor.


    ¡°Keep it down,¡± shouted the dwarf. ¡°You¡¯ll attract the wrong sort of attention.¡±


    Turning to find the source of the commotion, Nyx realized that the barbarian tank was holding up an item that more than justified his awe.


    -[ Analise: Barbarian¡¯s arcane blade. Forged by T¡¯arus, a mighty warrior possessing both the wizard and barbarian skill sets, this is an epic class item. T¡¯arus became lost in these dungeons¡¯ centuries ago, and his items are extremely rare. The sword doubles the user¡¯s armed combat skill, also adding one extra point of resilience. This item also doubles the output of all channeled mana. Item durability 85/100. ]-


    Two thoughts immediately entered the Amazon¡¯s mind, the first of them driven by avarice.


    Shit! Trust him to get that chest.


    Because unlike loot of the financial variety, weapons were fair game, belonging to whoever managed to pick them up along the way. A leader could order her troops to lend items to another party member for the duration of the mission, purely from a strategic standpoint. But she couldn¡¯t justify ordering the tank to relinquish the weapon to her permanently. Like it or not, the sword was his.


    Her second concern, however, was much more pressing, and it explained why the dwarf had been so keen not to be noticed. The chest that had provided the item was a lot further into the room than the muscle-bound fucker was supposed to be wandering in the first place. And with that in mind, it had the potential to be a trap. Why else would the room throw up such an impressive weapon upgrade, unless the shady area contained a fucking good reason to need one.


    What if he¡¯s triggered something. The greedy bastard could damn us all.


    ¡°Get your impressive ass back over here, now!¡± she cried. ¡°We don¡¯t push forward until the rest of the party arrive.¡±


    Craynor smirked, his gaze fixated on his new toy as he swaggered back to the party. His joy however would not last long. Without warning, the chamber began to shake. The event passed in seconds, but everyone assembled knew that such a random occurrence was never a good thing. Not when you¡¯re standing in the middle of a boss lair, at any rate.


    Nyx gave the call to retreat back to the cave entrance, but it was too late. The small area between the fissure and the grand chamber was coated in a semi-translucent sheen, the sort that suggested a magical barrier was now in play. G¡¯rrak started banging on the other side with his fists, confirming her suspicion. Seeing him trapped with the rest of her troops, she cursed the decision to send the demon back, and not one of the dwarves. He was faster than her barbarians and possessed body blades stronger than all but the best magically infused metals. And now, just like that, she¡¯d lost him.


    As for the barrier that now blocked their retreat, Nyx had seen its type before. It was standard fare, designed to ensure that boss battles were fought fairly, without reinforcements piling in and tipping the scales. With that in mind, she knew that neither G¡¯rrak or her party had any hope of penetrating it.


    The amazon¡¯s heart began to pound. Hastily calling up her status menu, she selected the ¡®war party¡¯ tab and checked the stats of her raid party. The warriors cut off from her control had disappeared from the party status screen, leaving her with ten barbarians, about half the number she had set out with. Cursing, she flicked to the contractor¡¯s tab. Two insignificant dwarfs, one warlock, one wizard¡¯s apprentice and one gun mage. Thank the gods all three magic users had made it into the chamber. Whatever they were about to go up against, that small mercy might at least give them some small chance of survival.


    ¡°Everybody pull back to the entrance,¡± she bellowed. ¡°I want the wall at our backs and eyes in every direction. Warlock, start charging an attack spell, the heaviest you¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°What sort?¡± he yelled.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Fire? Ice? There¡¯s more to magic than power, you know. We don¡¯t know what the fuck we¡¯re up against, yet. How will I know what to summon?¡±


    ¡°The monsters in the neighboring dungeon were vulnerable to flame,¡± she reasoned, directing her troops into position as she spoke. ¡°So let¡¯s try that first. Spellslinger69¡­.¡±


    The stoic gunslinger with the gamer style handle turned to meet her gaze.


    ¡°Be ready to open fire when I give the order, but not before,¡± she bellowed, gripping her sword a little tighter. ¡°And to the rest of you¡­ I¡¯m sure it goes without saying, but in case it isn¡¯t obvious; the wizard¡¯s our only healer, so protect him at all costs.¡±


    The apprentice hastily got to work reinforcing the party¡¯s lighting orbs with mana, knowing that this was his last opportunity to throw as much light as possible into the shadowy chamber before the fighting started. The orbs shone brighter, but the chamber was vast, his efforts a drop in the ocean. An order was given, and the dwarves timidly strode forward, squinting into the darkness that lay beyond the reach of the spell¡¯s effect.


    ¡°S-somethin¡¯s blockin¡¯ our vision,¡± yelled the bald dwarf. It¡¯s like the bloody darkness is reinforced, somehow.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± yelled Grandel. ¡°Something in there is trying to shield its presence, and it¡¯s getting closer.¡±


    Nyx moved to the front of her troop, joining the tank, and took up a defensive stance. When she squinted, she thought she could just make out a faint movement in the shadows¡­ it was almost as if the blackness was advancing.


    And then she realized that it was. Without warning, the shadows darted out, and a dwarf howled in pain as the darkness took him, dragging him into its pitch black maw.


    -[ User: SnowWhiteShagger has died. Scouts remaining: 1 ]-


    The other dwarf stumbled back, gasping for breath as he tried to warn his party as to what he had witnessed, fear stealing his words as his avatar began to hyperventilate.


    ¡°Shadowbanish,¡± cried the wizard, finally completing his illumination spell.


    The mana orbs flared, spreading light across the entire chamber. They revealed five individuals, all meters from the remaining dwarf. One was the shredded corpse of the self-proclaimed ¡®Snow White shagger¡¯, but the others were of much more concern. And they weren¡¯t even the only one. Because at the very back of the room, pinned to one of the corners, lay a huge, hulking shadow. It was the stuff of nightmares.


    Its presence finally revealed, the boss raised itself onto its long, spindly legs. Standing tall, it was easily the height of two human warriors. It¡¯s head, neck and body were as black as ebony, their closest anatomical counterpart being that of a horse, albeit an oversized, monstrous one. The beast¡¯s razor-like row of teeth seemed to run all the way across its elongated face and down its neck, as if it was capable of opening its entire head and more besides. Four black bony legs protruded from each side of its torso, all spiked at the tip, and poised as if ready to spring. And from the back of the beast, a tail resembling that of a scorpion, with a stinger that wasn¡¯t just the size of a human head, but that actually appeared to mimic one, its red eyes glinting with malice, and a horrific bone stinger protruding from its screaming, open mouth. The horse-head turned to face the intruders, eight red, blinking eyes regarding them as its mouth began to salivate.


    ¡°That is one fucked-up looking freak,¡± declared Craynor, succinctly summing up the boss that now loomed before them. His new sword was in one hand, and his original axe in the other. Both were charged with mana, and ready for action.


    The light of the spell was already starting to dim. Nyx knew that there was no way Grandel could sustain his attempts to light the entire chamber and leave himself enough mana for the fight ahead. She cursed the troop¡¯s analyst for getting himself trapped in the tunnel with the others, and activated her own, weaker perception skill, gleaning what stats she could from the creature before messaging the details to each of her party.


    SPECIES: SHADOW STALLION


    BOSS ¨C TEIR 4


    HP: 2000/2000


    Mana: UNREADABLE


    Allied Mob¡¯s: 4


    Skills: UNREADABLE


    Weaknesses: UNREADABLE


    As the message made its way through the ranks, all signs of bravado fell away. Nervous words were exchanged. Even Craynor took a step back as the thing rose up onto its multitude of legs, and began to advance. The four smaller creatures fell back, taking up positions at their parent¡¯s side. Nyx reckoned that if this thing was the stallion, these four were its fowls, each comparative in size to a regular horse, and borne upon similar, spider-like legs. With two hundred and fifty HP each, they wouldn¡¯t have posed much of a threat on their own. To be fair, the overall threat would have been low, if they had their entire raid party. Alas, thanks to the knucklehead with the sword fetish, the boss had been triggered too early, and she was trapped here with no such luxury. Her barbarian troops were chiefly around level 4. Decent, but not spectacular. As for the others, Craynor, Grandel, Spellslinger69 and¡­ (what the hell did the warlock call himself, again? She wondered, quickly checking the war party interface. Kriabal, that was it.), they would be her most valuable players. But even with those four backing her up, it was a fight that could go either way.


    ¡°Can you grab one of the lesser monsters with your dominate skill?¡± she called to the warlock, gesturing to the smaller foes.


    ¡°Only one way to find out,¡± he yelled back. ¡°But I can¡¯t activate my dominate skill while I¡¯m charging a fire spell, my level isn¡¯t high enough. Do you want me to throw it, or reabsorb the mana?¡±


    Damn, she thought to herself. If he releases his attack, he¡¯ll immediately become the enemy¡¯s primary target. But look at that asshole boss. There¡¯s no way we¡¯re talking our way out of this one, so we may as well get the first hit in.


    ¡°Aim for the big one, she bellowed. ¡°You too, SpellSlinger. Everyone else, be ready for momma bitch to go after the warlock, do what you can to draw it away from him.¡±


    The warlock did not look especially pleased with that strategy. With no real ties to the party, independent contractors often felt disposable in situations like this. Still, he thought to himself. I¡¯m the only one with the dominate skill, it¡¯ll be in her best interest to draw the enemy away from me.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to say it was nice knowing yeh all,¡± he declared, as fire began to erupt from his fingertips, but I spent most of the crawl starin¡¯ into a barbarian¡¯s ass, so death will probably be a small mercy by comparison.¡±


    And with that less-than-inspirational statement, he funneled the flame into his crooked staff, unleashing an inferno that rippled across the room and erupted against the bosses avatar. A howl let loose from the shadow stallion as the flames consumed its inhuman, fang laden face, the gaping row of needles it called a mouth opening like a Venus fly trap as it shrieked in pain.


    To no one¡¯s surprise, the beast still stood, it¡¯s HP barely affected. And just like that, the battle was on.

 Chapter 4

    I understood that stat allocation was important: I could face any number of threats upon entering the main game, and this was my chance to build myself up for the battle ahead. But it was not the only new screen to appear in my status menu. The ominous tab had also been joined by two further options: ¡®weapon selection¡¯ and ¡®miscellaneous items.¡¯


    Shit, I have to do all this in my ten-minute limit?


    To make matters worse, the timer hadn¡¯t even been reset from my avatar selection, giving me barely three minutes to make my decisions. I gave Mai a questioning glance.


    ¡°Your avatar comes with a preset skill-set, but this your chance to customize it a bit,¡± she explained. ¡°You can max out your strengths, or you can choose to compensate for your weaknesses. Or you can do a bit of both if you prefer. It¡¯s totally up to you.¡±


    ¡°Which is best?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sorry, Jacob,¡± the elf replied, shaking her head. ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to help you that much. This is about you choosing what sort of man you want to be in your new life.¡±


    ¡°As opposed to choosing what kind of dwarf or demon, eh?¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean,¡± she replied, playfully sticking out her tongue.


    I smiled. If we were parting ways soon, I was going to miss this elf-shaped bundle of code. Oh well, on to business. First, I quickly read the contents of the screen.


    Unallocated base points: 10


    Please choose the skills you would like to allocate points to. Please note, some categories are capped due to your current level (1). If you attempt to add more points than your current limit, this will be rejected.


    Okay, that all seems straightforward enough. The message was followed by a list of all the available skills I could allocate my points to, and my current limits as a level 1 swordsman.


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 1 (Cap 4)


    Agility: 1 (Cap 5)


    Speed: 1 (Cap 4)


    Stamina: 1 (Cap 4)


    Resilience: 0 (Cap 3)


    Accuracy: 1 (Cap 4)


    Defence: 1 (Cap 5)


    Armed combat: 1 (Cap 5)


    Unarmed combat: 0 (Cap 3)


    Carrying capacity: 1 (Cap 2)


    INTANGIBLE STATS -


    Magical attack: 0 (Cap 1)


    Perception: 0 (Cap 3)


    Charisma: 0 (Cap 2)


    Disguise: 0 (Cap 1)


    Luck: 0 (Cap 1)


    Healing: 0 (Cap 0)


    Mana generation: 0 (Cap 3)


    Leadership: 0 (Cap 1)


    Homemaking: 0 (Cap 2)


    There were nineteen options in total, and that worried me. In my former career (you know, the one that got me into this damn mess in the first place), I wasn¡¯t really one for strategy. I preferred to have someone point me at the problem that needed solving, and to punch it until it was solved. Brute force had gotten me in here. As I stared at the list of physical stats I wondered: could brute force get me out of here, as well? Assessing the figures each skill was currently capped at, it became even more obvious that my avatar was configured to prioritize combat-based skills. But did that mean the attributes with lower potential should simply be ignored? Where they less important, or more so, given that they were harder for me to level up in my current form?


    -[ Warning, time limit approaching. Unused base stats cannot be carried from the avatar selection into Atone Online. ]-


    ¡­announced a stern, electronic voice.


    ¡°Use them or lose them, boss¡± added the elf, humanizing the message as she peeked over my shoulder.


    Shit, my time was running out, and I hadn¡¯t even begun to arm myself, yet. Asking the elf to explain mana generation would probably be a poor use of my available time, if it led to my entering the game before I got the chance to purchase a weapon. And yeah, I realized that distributing my base points was probably just as important. But what the hell use was a swordsman without a sword? I needed to get this over with.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    So, like a diner who¡¯d suddenly realized that the waiter was approaching and that he hadn¡¯t even begun to study the menu yet, I panicked. I focused on my stat screen and hurriedly allocated two base points into strength, and another two into resilience, deciding that whatever lay ahead of me, I¡¯d better make sure that I was a tough enough bastard to face it. I then proceeded to evenly split the remaining six points between stamina, speed, and armed combat, figuring those properties were probably the best match for my swordsman skill. Satisfied that I¡¯d made the best choices I could under such unrealistic time constraints, I hurriedly moved onto the tab marked ¡®weapon selection.¡¯


    -[ One-minute remaining. ]-


    ¡­announced the impatient voice in my head. I had a feeling I was going to grow to hate that thing.


    To my horror, the weapon selection screen offered slim pickings. Granted, it was just a basic equipment screen for my new avatar, and not a fully-fledged shop, but still. I¡¯d been hoping for a lot more.


    The weapons on offer were a small unimpressive dagger priced at twenty-five gold, a basic sword at ninety, and an allegedly ¡®premium¡¯ sword at one hundred and twenty gold. Premium seemed to roughly translate into ¡®big enough to give me a hernia,¡¯ but I¡¯d put a few extra base points into strength, so surely they wouldn¡¯t offer me a weapon I wasn¡¯t strong enough to use, right? That said, these were the same bastards who incinerated my ¡®meat media¡¯ and almost sacrificed Mai just to gauge my response. Who knew what they were really capable of.


    I didn¡¯t have time to read each items individual properties, so I could only go on the basic principle that ¡®more expensive¡¯ meant ¡®better.¡¯ I hastily selected the premium sword, then immediately purchased the dagger also, figuring it couldn¡¯t hurt to have a backup weapon, just in case.


    Next, I moved onto the ¡®miscellaneous items¡¯ screen, where the remaining five gold was hastily split between a parcel of healing herbs and an ankle strap for my new dagger. I would have preferred a sheath for the sword: removing the huge weapon from my inventory every time it was needed would be a lot slower, if the sheath¡¯s tempting description was to be believed. But frustratingly, that would have left me short on funds for the dagger. And if it was a toss-up between an accessory and a backup weapon, the backup weapon had to be the better choice, I reasoned.


    My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by another status message¡­


    -[ The customization window has closed. ]-


    Fuck, I got there just in time¡­


    ¡°Hooooowever,¡± began Mai, ¡°one vital element remains that just can¡¯t be bypassed. Please choose a sexy username for your sexy avatar.¡±


    ¡°I like my own name, thanks,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Awww, c¡¯mon, boss. A new name is strongly recommended. Names carry reputations, so choosing a new name will allow for a fresh start.¡±


    And make it harder for family members to track down a prisoner and launch an appeal, right?


    ¡°Can¡¯t you just, I dunno, just call me Jake?¡±


    ¡°Username allocated.¡± She replied with a grin. You are now known as Jake10438. Is this acceptable?¡±


    ¡°Fuck¡­ there are a lot of bad Jakes in the world, evidently,¡± I sighed.  ¡°Look, my nickname IRL was ¡®Shade.¡¯ Will that do?¡±


    ¡°I like it,¡± she giggled. ¡°Username acceptable. ¡®Jacob Mathers¡¯ has been replaced with the username ¡®Shade.¡¯¡±


    And another piece of my identity just falls away¡­


    The elf began to speed up, some pre-programmed spiel taking over like a voiceover reading the terms and conditions at the end of a loan commercial¡­


    ¡°Your estate has been liquidized and transferred to an atonement account, the contents of which will be waiting for you upon redemption. You have thirty years in-game to achieve redemption before Atonement Incorporated take ownership of said estate to pay for your avatars continued maintenance, under article 12 of the unclaimed digital assets scheme. All data pertaining to ¡®Jacob Mathers¡¯ will now be destroyed on the outside world. Phew, that was a mouthful.¡±


    ¡°What the hell?¡± I gasped. It¡¯s not enough that your company destroyed my body, they¡¯re destroying my identity now, too?¡±


    ¡°Your old identity had become corrupted, silly,¡± interjected the elf. ¡°Corrupted code must be purged by removing-¡±


    ¡°Alright, I get it,¡± I cut in. I couldn¡¯t blame her for not understanding. My world was just an alternative format to her. Her owners on the other hand¡­


    ¡°Are you okay, Shade?¡± she asked, walking over and casually stroking my face. And then it dawned on me.


    ¡°Fuck! My face. It¡¯s all I have left, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m surprised they left me with that much.¡±


    -[ Your face will be your final anchor to your old life. A reminder of the sins you now wish to escape. This too shall be shed, upon redemption. ]-


    I turned. That damned ghoul Norahc had returned, no doubt to ferry me to the final stage of my journey.


    ¡°Too expensive to clone my old features into a new body, eh?¡± I asked the ghoul. It ignored me.


    I returned to gaze to my elven helper. But there was no answer to be had there either, just an awkward shrug.


    ¡°So, what now?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°Check your quest log,¡± she replied, giving me a sympathetic look.


    UPDATED QUEST ¨C Redeem yourself.


    Having accepted your judgement, you now have a set goal to achieve: reputation +30.


    Goal: Achieve 50 rep points.


    Type of quest ¨C Ongoing.


    Reward: Earn a new physical body.


    Rep effect ¨C Redemption.


    -[ Prepare for redemption, Shade. Your journey of atonement awaits. ]-


    ¡°Good luck,¡± added Mai, kissing my cheek. ¡°You were my first inductee. I hope they¡¯re all as sweet as you¡­¡±


    Before I could answer, the elf flickered out of existence. Next, the hut began to fall away, and the torrent of code began anew. I stood there mesmerized, as machine code began to beat down on my freshly minted body, baptizing me, like a less than subtle metaphor for my new beginning. Hell, I was probably reading too much into it. I had no idea what any of this meant. For all I knew, the digital gods were pissing on me from above.


    Speaking of which, it was starting to feel an awful lot like I was being flushed. The flow of information was lashing against me, pushing me back toward the sea of code. It was glowing behind me, waiting to drag me to my digital damnation. More and more code lashed against me, but I was tired of being pushed around. I stood my ground, willing my synthetic flesh to hold fast.


    Big mistake. One by one, armored guards began to materialize around me, blinking into existence as if riding on a wave of electricity. These were not the tech-wearing heavies who dragged my physical body into my judgement pod, then held me down while my consciousness was ripped from my meat media, leaving my body a ruined mess. No, these guards were clad in much more primitive metals, and they carried blades, not tasers. Their design was still oddly modern, though. Each was dressed like the bastard lovechild of a medieval knight and modern-day riot police, with shields that could easily protect their whole bodies, if required to. And under the helmets, those familiar goblinoid features. These creatures belonged to Siriso. The circle of steel began to close in.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± I protested, ¡°hold it guys, I just-¡±


    I felt an aggressive shove to my back, jolting me toward the ocean. Old instincts kicked in, as I swung on my heel and thrust my fist deep into the face of the closest guard. I¡¯d used as much force as my new body could muster, and it looked like those new strength points were really paying off. The guard¡¯s pointy nose broke under the impact of my avatars fist with a satisfying crunch, sending the goblin reeling backwards.


    -[ You have shattered the guard¡¯s nose for 15 damage. ]-


    Well, that was satisfying. The NPC guards stared at me in wide-eyed shock. Was I the first prisoner who¡¯d ever attempted to resist his fate, I wondered? If I was, they weren¡¯t having any of it. Shock quickly subsided, giving way to rage. And in a heartbeat, the mass of bodies was swarming me. I tried my best to fight back, but I was easily overwhelmed. My arms were quickly pinned to my sides, holding me in place. I made to protest, but before I could speak again, the butt of a sword struck hard against the back of my head, loosening my grasp on my new reality. I was losing conscious as they tossed my lifeless body into the sea.


    And with that, my life began anew.

 The Raid Party - 3

    The crackle of arcane flame mingled with the howls of their unholy foe, a precursor to all-out war if there could ever have been one. Fourteen nervous warriors reaffirmed their defensive stances, ready to strike at a moment¡¯s notice. And opposite, four smaller mobs snarled like attack dogs, begging to be unleashed by their colossal master.


    ¡°Hold steady, men,¡± bellowed Nyx, addressing the growing unease that was spreading through her troops. ¡°Maintain snare formation. Let¡¯s make the bastard come to us.¡±


    Experience had taught the amazon that the boss would instantly classify its attacker (the warlock) as its primary target. Were it a tier 5 boss, it might show more intelligence, weighing up the risk against such simple considerations as ¡®who struck last.¡¯ But tier 4 bosses were nothing if not predictable. She could use that to her advantage.


    The warlock also understood this, and it did a lot to explain why he was now sweating so heavily, his paltry robes sticking to his broad, muscular back. To make matters worse, the bag of merlin he¡¯d purchased to calm his pre-raid nerves had already worked its way out of his system, leaving him alarmingly aware of the harsh reality before him. He was mob meat.


    The flames that danced across the shadow stallions¡¯ flesh were already fading, that sickening smell of burnt monster meat subsiding as quickly as it had emerged. His perception skill was telling him that the magical flame had dealt a measly 30HP worth of damage, half of the number intended.


    Those flames should have burned for at least a minute, he thought to himself, studying the final embers as they flickered out. The big bastard must have magical resistance, and that¡¯s all we bloody need.


    Still, there was more than one way to wield magic. A less direct attack was in order, and he had scarce seconds to cast it before this hulking mass of muscle inevitably chose to repay the favor with a more physical attack.


    Quick as a flash, Kriabal reached out with his mana, a tingling sensation traveling down his right arm and bursting out from his nicotine-stained fingertips, ensnaring his target with the dominate skill. The mob on the bosses left flank convulsed, writhing in his grasp. More mana was pushed into the unholy creature, shattering its will. He nervously released his grip, but to his relief, the spell held: the beast was enslaved. The lowly mob¡¯s magical resistance paled in comparison to that of its master, allowing the mage to quickly take control. The icon representing the lowly mob that now hovered next to his avatar only confirmed his success. Without hesitation, he fed the beast a simple command that even its underdeveloped AI could grasp. Oi, Fuckface. Kill your brethren.


    -[ Update: Your party has received a new associate. Name: Fuckface. Type: Level 2 shadow foal. HP250/250. ]-


    The newly (albeit accidentally) christened creature would have stood no chance against its former master, but that was never the plan: Kriabal had picked a mob from the outskirts of the formation, ensuring that its closest target would be something it was capable of neutralizing. Without hesitation, ¡®Fuckface¡¯ pounced on its closest ¡®ally¡¯, sinking dual rows of yellow jagged teeth into the unexpecting creature¡¯s neck.


    Nyx observed this development and breathed a sigh of relief. This was a good start. The dominated creature and its sibling were tearing bloody chunks out of each other with their seemingly endless rows of teeth.


    The other foals rushed to intervene, yet the shadow stallion simply held its place, regarding the warlock with its oddly inquisitive stare.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± hissed Nyx. ¡°Why isn¡¯t the bastard attacking.¡±


    ¡°Must be my luck skill,¡± piped up Craynor, never one to shy away from taking the credit, justified or not. The tank turned to the pack of smaller barbarians behind him. ¡°Garrack. NoobCrusher. DungeonDestroyer¡­¡±


    The trio immediately turned to face the imposing tank. Each was a cookie cutter clone of the other, like action figures with customized heads.


    ¡°Stop standing around scratching your leather codpieces and intercept those two bastards,¡± he ordered, pointing his sword at the smaller mobs as they rushed to their fellow monster¡¯s aid.


    ¡°Yessir,¡± they replied in unison, charging into action, swords and axes raised.


    Nyx gritted her teeth as a small pack of barbarians began to break off, adding their might to that of the dominated creature. That damn Craynor was undermining her orders again. She¡¯d have to pull him up on that. But not now. For now, she was more worried about the odd behavior of the boss.


    ¡°Everyone else hold your positions,¡± the amazon cried, ¡°that¡¯s an order. Kriabal, how long until you can use dominate again?


    ¡°Five-minute cooldown,¡± he gruffly replied.


    ¡°That¡¯s useless to me,¡± she spat.


    The warlock looked more than a little disgruntled by her blunt assessment of his skills. Grunting, he went back to charging another projectile attack. Magical resistance or not, he knew that if the shit hit the fan, it would be more effective than hitting the damn thing with his wooden staff.


    ¡°Spellslinger,¡± Nyx¡± cried, addressing the odd fusion of wizard and gunslinger lurking at the back of the room.


    ¡°Boss?¡± he replied, although reluctantly.


    ¡°Break off from the troop and fire a few shots of mana into that thing, see if that will get its attention. You¡¯re supposed to be our sharpshooter, so try to find its weak spot. If possible, aim for the eyes.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± spluttered the gun mage.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why it¡¯s so reluctant to retaliate against Kriabal, but I intend to capitalize with a few range attacks.¡±


    The gun mage swallowed hard, before giving his own assessment of the amazon¡¯s ¡®plan.¡¯


    ¡°What the hell sort of strategy is that?¡± he cried. ¡°That thing clearly has magical resistance. All you¡¯re doing is making me a target. Steel is required here, not sorcery.¡±


    ¡°Respect your leader, soldier,¡± yelled Craynor, casting Spellslinger a withering look.


    ¡°Damn you,¡± retaliated the mage. ¡°Damn both of you. I get that I¡¯m your most expendable magic user, but do you have to be so fucking obvious about it?¡±


    ¡°Get over there and do your damn job or I¡¯ll kill you myself,¡± added Nyx, determined to reassert her authority.


    Reluctantly, the gun mage followed his orders, breaking away from the party and channeling six rounds of hardened mana into the hide of the beast for a total of 24HP damage. Two of its eyes (a stationary target, still being fixed on the warlock) were hit. But just like the rest of its hulking frame, the supposed tender-spots resisted his magics attempts to burrow, inflicting little more than surface wounds on the creature. Again, the beast stood its ground, this time not even providing the small satisfaction of howling in pain. But one thing had been achieved. The shadow stallion¡¯s gaze was now firmly fixed on the gun mage. Just as Nyx had hoped. Poison chalice passed, the warlock breathed a sigh of relief.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°It¡¯s not attacking because we¡¯re like fucking mosquitos to it,¡± whispered the cigar-smoking barbarian to his closest comrade, his hushed voice that of one truly petrified. Nyx made a mental note of his username: Champion78. How dare he speak like that during a raid. If he was so determined to bleed her party¡¯s morale, she would happily bleed him in return. But that would have to wait until later. For now, like it or not, she needed every grunt she could get.


    Speaking of grunts, the three generic barbarians had now engaged the two smaller mobs, and were hacking and slashing at their flesh, easily overpowering the shadow foals through strength of numbers. It wouldn¡¯t be long until they finished and began helping the party¡¯s new pet mob with its foe. However, Nyx couldn¡¯t imagine the biggest bastard would just stand by and watch while its little bastards were sliced to ribbons by the uppity humans. And oh, how she hated being right, sometimes.


    ¡°Magical buildup,¡± yelled Grandel.


    The boss unleashed a deafening howl that echoed through the room. And if only that had been the extent of it. The chamber rippled, wave after wave of energy distorting the very air around them, washing over the unprepared raid party. A flurry of alerts began to sound inside Nyx¡¯s head, status messages announcing that her troop had just been hit by an attack labeled ¡®paralyzing howl¡¯. And the debuff was more than living up to its name. Her treacherous limbs were frozen in place as if her entire avatar had somehow crashed. Her body had become a prison within a prison, her personaware doomed to watch the world continue on without it. She tried to turn to survey her troops, but dammit, she couldn¡¯t even do so much as that. She couldn¡¯t turn, but if the lack of sounds from behind her were to be of any indication, there was no movement behind her, either.


    Forced to simply stare ahead, she quickly realized that six of her associates were still within her field of vision. Garrack, NoobCrusher and DungeonDestroyer were being badly mauled by the two foals they¡¯d been sent to dispatch. They¡¯d been frozen mid-battle and were unable to prevent their lower-tier enemies from picking them apart. She could only watch in silent frustration as their HP continued to drop with every strike, and quickly ruled them a lost cause: at the current rate they were taking damage, they¡¯d be dead within the minute. The dwarf had remained at the head of the formation in an unofficial capacity as fodder, and was frozen in his attempts to retreat, his stricken form left completely vulnerable. Oh well, she thought to herself, coldly, at least he was serving his purpose.


    She¡¯d hoped that the gunslinger¡¯s forced eviction from the party formation had put him out of range of the beast¡¯s attack, but there was no such luck to be had. He too was immobilized, his arms outstretched, pistols pointed at the shadow stallion, trigger fingers frozen. To her dismay, the party¡¯s only active combatant was now the dominated monster. Alone, the puppet would be easily overwhelmed, but at least for now, it continued to brawl with its original target, as their brethren occupied themselves by hacking away at her paralyzed troops.


    Yet still, the shadow stallion silently stared, declining to advance on their vulnerable avatars. What the hell was it playing at, she wondered.


    With a cold inevitability, a status message rang out in her head.


    -[ User: DungeonDestroyer has died. Berserkers remaining under your command: 9 ]-


    Dammit! she cursed to herself. She was at the mercy of a magical attack, and there wasn¡¯t even a way to discuss strategy with the team¡¯s magic users. Nyx still had access to her internal messaging system, but she understood that activating it would be a pointless endeavor. Messages had to be physically opened by clicking on an accept button, and no one in her party could reach their status panel.


    -[ User: Garrack has died. Berserkers remaining under your command: 8 ]-


    Shit! Two down. She prayed that the third barbarian would last long enough to buy them time to recover: even with no way to defend himself, he had a sizable amount of HP, and there was still a chance that the party members with higher resistance might be able to eventually shrug off the debuff. If so, they could keep the enemy at bay while the rest of the party got itself back into the fight. But those hopes were quickly dashed. She watched in horror as the third barbarian was plucked from the floor by the bosses huge, gaping jaws. Rows of needlelike teeth snapped down on the stricken form of the powerless warrior, slicing into his avatar and almost severing him at the waist. The near-corpse was violently swung from side to side, then bitten down on, her army powerless to assist.


    -[ User: NoobCrusher has died. Berserkers remaining under your command: 7 ]-


    The monstrous beast finished swallowing the warrior¡¯s remains, while its two unchallenged children began to advance. Choosing their target based on proximity, not threat level, they pounced on the remaining dwarf, ripping him asunder in seconds.


    -[ User: GrumpyGit has died. Scouts remaining under your command : 0 ]-


    -[ Warning: Continued loss of non-combatant contractors may lead to reputation damage. ]-


    Without warning, the emboldened boss launched itself into the air, propelled by its spindly yet powerful legs, landing right in the center of her frozen army. This had been her original plan, back when the warlock had first attacked: coax the beast into the center of the party, so that they might rain their blades down upon it from every angle. But she was unable to turn to meet the threat, as were those behind her. The amazon heard the unmistakable crack of bone, as another vulnerable fighter was clamped within the creatures vice-like jaws. Her troops watched in silent horror as a level 2 barbarian was plucked from the ground, his body violently shaken like a dog¡¯s chew-toy, spraying blood in all directions before being tossed overhead and spectacularly impaled midair by the scorpion-like tail. For a moment the limp, frozen body dangled on the end of the stinger, before being tossed across the chamber, returning to Nyx¡¯s field of vision as it hit the wall of the dungeon with a sickening wet thud.


    -[ User: GravosTheGreat has died. Berserkers remaining under your command: 6 ]-


    The boss casually strode over to the gory remains and began to feed. At the sight the Amazon, still powerless to act, silently cursed her early strategy. She was beginning to suspect that the creature had needed to remain still in order to charge its initial attack, and that they¡¯d wasted that window of opportunity assuming it to be little more than a standoff. Worse, to the best of her knowledge, the shadow stallion wasn¡¯t catalogued. So, for all she knew, it had other tricks yet to reveal. Either way, one question still remained: why was it ignoring both the gun mage and their dominated monster?


    From the corner of her eye, she could see that the warlock¡¯s new pet was being picked apart by its brethren in a three-on-one mauling. That explained the latter, then. ¡®Fuckface¡¯ was down to its last 20HP, and the stricken creature couldn¡¯t last much longer against such a violent onslaught. But at least it was trying to fight back, and that helped their odds slightly, cutting the enemies numbers by one, while also drawing its brethren¡¯s fire. Soon, she fretted, it would be her own stricken troops who would be torn apart in its stead.


    In his mind, Craynor was screaming. This was no way for such a powerful raid party to die. Granted, Nyx would be held accountable, but the fighters he¡¯d hoped to steal away from her were being slaughtered, and that would only decrease their future value. When the dust settled, the shield around the chamber would drop, and the other half of the raid party would charge blindly in to suffer the same fate, unless that runt G¡¯rrak had the good sense to hold them back. The level 4¡¯s weren¡¯t so much a concern, they could be salvaged. But upon respawn, the level 3 barbarians would drop back down to level 2, and what the hell use would they be to his ambitions of leadership then? Not to mention the penalty his own death would bring: losing a level was bad enough, but Garrack, NoobCrusher and DungeonDestroyer had all died acting upon his orders, all but guaranteeing that his leadership stat would be penalized, too.


    He cursed the so-called ¡®shadow stallion.¡¯ Nothing short of divine intervention was going to turn the tables, at this stage. And with only 20 faith points in his inventory, whatever small blessing that could possibly muster would hardly be enough to fell this unholy bastard. Perhaps, it occurred to him, he should activate them anyway, then pray to Siriso to send him worthy troops next time?


    Awww, who am I kidding? The AI with the god-complex doesn¡¯t exactly take requests, he thought to himself.


    Still¡­ unlike his new sword, at least he could still reach his meagre collection of faith points¡­ faith was a thing of willpower, after all. Perhaps Siriso could be convinced to spare him a painful death, if nothing else.


    So, with no other way to make a difference to his predicament, he activated them.


    -[ You have been granted a boon by the great god Siriso. ]-


    ¡­announced the tank¡¯s status system. And that was when something unexpected happened.

 Chapter 5.1

    -[ You have spawned into the playing area of Atone Online. ]-


    -[ While being transported to this facility, you perpetrated an act of violence against the authorities. Rep -1. ]-


    -[ You were injured by a guard during transit to this server. HP -3. ]-


    -[ Warning: This is an extremely dangerous zone. Statistically, this area presents a 16% probability of being assaulted by another player and a 100% probability of being attacked by an enemy monster. Caution is advised. ]-


    -[ Diagnostic alert: You are suffering from the effects of a corrupted memory file. Attempted memory rebuild is at 0%. ]-


    My senses were hit by a blast of dank fusty air, mingled with the scent of freshly shed blood. And yeah, I recognize that last one from my old job. All around me, the sound of what could be wild animals, howling in a frenzied symphony of chaos and confusion. When I dared to open my eyes, I understood why.


    The beast was twice my height, black as midnight, and looked like it had probably crawled straight out of Satan¡¯s asshole. It hadn¡¯t spotted me yet (it was too busy feasting on some poor dwarven sod to notice or care) but given its size, I couldn¡¯t imagine the small bearded snack would either occupy or satisfy it for long.


    To my right, a smaller version of the monster was attacking a barbarian who (to my disbelief) wasn¡¯t even attempting to defend himself. And to my left, two of the strange creatures were fighting one another, one of them noticeably more bloodied than the other. That was when I heard a deep guttural growl from behind me.


    It was a third. A horse with the legs of a spider, the tail of a scorpion, and the teeth of nothing on earth. And it was staring straight at me. That wasn¡¯t even the only surprise: I was completely surrounded by human statues, possibly as many as ten warriors, mostly stripped to the waist, all frozen in a defensive stance, their faces a picture of horror. The image quickly brought to mind the gorgon of Greek myth, the snake-headed creature who froze such warriors with little more than a glance. But this unholy creature was staring straight at me, six crimson eyes gleaming, and the only thing freezing my avatar was fear. Its weight shifted upon its spindly spider-like legs as if getting ready to strike. I knew I couldn¡¯t outrun it. There was no time for flight. Fight was the only option. I subtly called up my menu, taking care not to make any sudden movements that would goad the thing into pouncing any sooner than it intended.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    -[ Item selected: Premium Sword. The highest caliber sword available to new arrivals, this weapon is a worthy addition to any beginner¡¯s inventory. Attack +5. Durability 40/40. ]-


    -[ Warning. Your mana supply is empty. Mana is required to channel special actions through weaponry. ]-


    It was my first time holding such a weapon, a far cry from the rotten branch I¡¯d wielded back on the goblin camp, or for that matter, the steel baseball bat I¡¯d been known to favor in my old life. At its touch, basic attack techniques immediately flooded my mind, granting me the preprogrammed skills my swordsman¡¯s avatar would require in order to meet the basic description. It was enough to tell me how to swing the damn thing, but there were no clues on how to fell this monstrosity.


    -[You are severely overmatched. Recommended course of action: retreat. ]-


    Where the hell too, I protested. But no answer came. My stylus system was now little more than a barebones AI, and not a patch on Mai.


    -[ //y0urrrr n0t su/pp0sed t0 be herrrrrrr//// ]-


    ¡­added another message, this one noticeably garbled.


    ¡°No shit,¡± I replied. ¡°And what the hell was that? Don¡¯t tell me my files are corrupted already? That¡¯s all I fucking need.¡±


    -[ Status bot running at 100% ]-


    ¡­it replied, almost smugly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± I replied, not once taking my eyes from the snarling creature that stood before me.


    Without warning it finally pounced, the beast¡¯s ebony mass blurring toward me with unnatural speed. On instinct, I attempted to bring up my sword, but before I could decide if I was attempting to block or attack, its weight was crashing against me, knocking me on my ass. I flailed out wildly with the blade, severing the tip of one of its legs¡­


    -[ You cut the shadow foal for -1 HP damage. ]-


    ¡­but the bastard barely noticed, pressing its considerable weight down on my body, its spindly legs forming a nightmarish cage around my struggling avatar. Its slobbering needle-like teeth were now snapping at me, the creatures drool splashing my face as it lunged to tear it off. It was all I could do to use my sword as a barrier, but the thing was way too powerful. Barely 2 minutes into the game, and I was mob meat.

 Chapter 5.2

    Suddenly and without warning there was a mighty impact, as something threw its weight against my attacker, sending bodies sprawling to recover their footing as both parties tumbled to my side. My rescuer was the mirror image of my attacker, albeit in much worse condition. And it was doing its damnedest to keep my assailant pinned down.


    Holy crap. Did that mob just¡­ save me?


    Just as suddenly, yet another frenzied mob threw itself onto the brawl taking place mere inches from my avatar. It was the creature¡¯s original opponent, and it was determined to finish what it had started.


    I didn¡¯t know what the hell was going on, but one thing was for certain: I wasn¡¯t looking this gift horse in the mouth. Not when its fellow horses¡¯ mouths were equally horrific, and ready to tear my freshly minted flesh from my bones with their teeth. I got to my feet and hurriedly retreated further into the edges of the lair, frantically looking to the other players for help as I ran. But they all just stood there, glassy-eyed, like oddly muscular store mannequins modeling the latest in caveman chic. The only sign of life from any of them was emanating from the eyes of the bald, tattooed mage at the back of the room: they glowed with an eerie green light, his face strained and sweating. As suddenly as I had noticed their bizarre glow, his eyes dimmed. Simultaneously, one of the creatures behind me let out what could only have been its death cry. And I had a pretty good idea which shadow foal had bought it.


    I looked back, confirming that yes, my unexpected savior was now little more than a bloody mess splattered across the stone floor. To my relief, its assailants had gone back to hacking at the frozen bodies of the warriors surrounding them, evidently distracted by the easy prey. Which bought me time, if nothing else. But how much time? How long could a party of fighters who couldn¡¯t even defend themselves sidetrack these monstrosities, before the damn things became my problem again?


    I surveyed my surroundings, quickly realizing that I was trapped in what appeared to be an underground of some kind. I wasn¡¯t sure what I¡¯d expected: Atonement Incorporated were incredibly secretive about the nature of their redemption software, arguing that information leaks only gave their potential customers the opportunity to enter on an uneven playing field. And after my short break on goblin island, I really didn¡¯t have a clue what to expect. I understood that I was here to be punished, but this shitshow felt like overkill.


    <What the hell are you doing standing out in the open like that, you fuckin¡¯ noob?> echoed a voice in my head, jolting me from my thoughts, adding: <Move your fuckin¡¯ ass!> The voice was guttural but urgent.


    What the hell¡¯s going on with my status bot, I wondered to myself, frantically looking in all directions. And when did the damn thing get so rude?


    <I¡¯m not your status bot, you dumb fuck. Look at the bloody entrance.>


    To my surprise, a gangly, red-skinned individual was waving at me from behind a transparent glaze of energy. I was taken aback by just how ugly the humanoid creature was and could only assume it to be one of the games aforementioned demons.


    <Oi, I heard that,> continued the voice in my head. <Ugly is only a matter of perspective when you¡¯re wearing a completely different species, mate. And trust me, when it comes to looks, you¡¯ll be cursin¡¯ yer pretty avatar when some big ogre takes a likin¡¯ to yeh in the shower rooms. But for now, you¡¯ve got even bigger problems to worry about, so get the fuck over here.>


    I took a few nervous steps forward, literally caught between the devil and the devil¡¯s pony sanctuary. Neither option looked particularly inviting, but at least the humanoid was trying to be civil, which was more than I could say for my attackers.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I spat, trying my best to look threatening. ¡°What the hell is going on here?¡± Hell felt like the appropriate choice of words, given the circumstances.


    <Come closer so I can talk to you properly,> it replied. <Human minds, unlike their feeble flesh, are notoriously difficult to penetrate. I can barely reach you.>


    Yup, the Demon with the blades jutting out of its arms was making references to puncturing my feeble avatar. I quickly decided there was no way in hell I was getting any closer to him, forcefield or not.


    The creature sighed in my head. <Look, it¡¯s only a matter of time before the stronger warriors break free of the paralyze debuff that bastard boss has hit them with. But not if they die in the meantime. The lower our numbers, the less chance you have of sneaking out of here alive, so you need to keep those things occupied¡­ give the others a chance to recover.¡±


    ¡°Keep them fucking occupied?¡± I protested, as I watched one of the ¡®things¡¯ in question literally tear a meaty chunk out of a helpless barbarian¡¯s thigh. ¡°And how do you suggest that I do that? Try and make myself as chewy as possible? Hope that my noob avatar somehow gives them constipation?¡±


    <Attack the boss,> he replied, as if it was the simplest quest in the world. <You have decent speed for a noob, so if you get their attention then keep moving, you might buy the raid party an extra minute or two. It doesn¡¯t even matter if you do any damage. What matters, is that you become the enemy¡¯s prime target, drawing them away from the others.>This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    I looked back to the boss in question. It had now finished its dwarf sized snack and was stalking toward the individual I assumed to be the party¡¯s gun mage.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be slaughtered,¡± I protested.


    <You¡¯ll be slaughtered if the raid party is decimated before the debuff wears off. This is your only chance for survival, kid. And as a level I, you haven¡¯t exactly got wiggle room to die.>


    ¡°What the hell is that supposed to mean,¡± I demanded. ¡°I¡¯ll just respawn.¡±


    <You do know about the penalties though, right?>


    I shook my head. I didn¡¯t like the sound of this.


    <Bloody noob¡¯s, why they can¡¯t just give you an instruction manual I¡¯ll never know. Look, every time you respawn, you drop one level and lose one random skill point. Any player who hits level zero instantly qualifies for a five-year level lock on all combat skills¡­


    What? Holy crap! How is that fair?


    <Nothing¡¯s fair around here, mate. You¡¯ll learn that soon enough. But I¡¯m glad to see the penny has dropped. Die, and you¡¯ll be downgraded from ¡®swordsman¡¯ to ¡®basic worker¡¯, and then you¡¯ll really have to work that pretty avatar of yours to survive.>


    Without warning, a translucent panel opened up in front of me.


    -[ Quest received from user: G¡¯rrak. Would you like to view further detail? ]-


    Nervously and with little other option, I clicked yes.


    NEW QUEST ¨C Monster fodder.


    A demon guard has granted you an important task.


    Goal: Distract the enemy, buying the raid party more time to recover.


    Type of quest ¨C One off.


    Reward: 10 gold. Potential rescue by the raid party.


    Rep effect ¨C Varies, depending on the number of lives saved.


    Accept Y/N?


    I turned to face my ¡®quest.¡¯ While we¡¯d been ¡®talking¡¯, another of the barbarians had fallen, a trail of the warrior¡¯s blood marking the path by which he had been dragged to the larger creature¡¯s feet. The fact that the smaller mobs were feeding it only confirmed its boss status, and I was just in time to witness the horrific sight as the shadow stallion pretty much swallowed him whole.


    Hmmm. So, the thing is driven by hunger, and the smaller mobs exist purely to feed it. Surely if I hang back and let it have its fill, my odds of survival-


    <Wrong,> butted in the demon, hijacking my selfish thoughts. <This chamber won¡¯t reopen until every combatant contained inside is dead. That includes you, noob-boy. So c¡¯mon, we haven¡¯t got all day to debate this. Hit the ¡®yes¡¯ tab, and I¡¯ll even tell you where you can grab a couple of items that might increase your odds of survival.>


    That pretty much sealed the deal. All I currently had to my name was my sword, my dagger, and a small bundle of healing herbs. Anything the creature could give me that would increase my odds of survival was welcome. I hit yes.


    ¡°Okay, whatever it is you¡¯re offering, hand it over,¡± I demanded.


    <Ha! You think if I could penetrate this shield I wouldn¡¯t have done so already? Get real, noob. I didn¡¯t say I was going to give you the items myself. I said I¡¯d tell you where you can get some. Now, look around. You see that extra-buff barbarian with the tattoos?>


    He was pretty hard to miss. I could only assume this one was the party¡¯s tank. Either that, or he must have been huge to begin with, before the game started adding on the enhanced bulk of the barbarian trait. Perhaps a bit of both was at play. I nodded.


    <I know for a fact that he keeps a cryo-grenade and a healing potion hooked to his belt for easy access in combat. Between his paralyzed status and the items easy-to-reach location, you should be able to grab them both, even without the thievery skill.>


    I nodded again and began making my way over to the tattooed warrior, taking care not to attract the attention of the three smaller mobs. The demon¡¯s voice faded out as I strayed further from the entrance, but just as the demon suggested, stealing the hulking warrior¡¯s items was child¡¯s play (although I was admittedly nervous as I fumbled with the belt of his imposing avatar¡­ hopefully he would understand my reasons for blatantly robbing him. I certainly wouldn¡¯t want to get on the warrior¡¯s bad side).


    -[ Item acquired: Cryo-grenade. A throwing weapon empowered with a stored cryomancy spell. Used to freeze enemies. The item in itself causes no damage. Can be activated by non-arcane players. Duration: Varies depending on the opponent¡¯s strength and level of magical resistance. Durability: 12/12. ]-


    -[ Item acquired: Healing potion. Replaces the player¡¯s full health instantly. Durability: 6/8 ]-


    -[ You have acquired the thievery skill, level I. XP required to reach level II, 100. Warning: this was an immoral act, and your reputation has dropped by one point. ]-


    Shit! I should have known that last one would happen. The game was probably just looking at things in simplistic terms, and from that perspective, I¡¯d robbed an extremely powerful player of his items in broad daylight, an action more than worthy of generating the morally dubious skill that was usually reserved only for the rogue. Technically, it was another skill I could use to my advantage. But I really could have done without further damage to my reputation. Especially after my dumb-ass move fighting the guards.


    I pocketed the items in my inventory and looked around me. The three smaller creatures were continued to be distracted by their chosen warriors vulnerable avatars. The fact they were lasting so long in such a one-sided battle was a testament to each barbarian¡¯s tank-like status, but couldn¡¯t go on indefinitely. Meanwhile, the boss seemed oddly content to just stare at the gun mage, stare burrowing into the arcane gunslinger as it waited for its foals to drag it the broken bodies of the dead and dying. Odd. What the hell was playing at? Lazily ordering room service when the canteen was literally on its doorstep? Getting its minions to tenderize its meals first? Was the gun mage the tantalizing dessert that it was saving for the end? Perhaps, it occurred to me, the creature was much smarter than that. It was probably letting its brood gain valuable XP by wearing the enemy down first, before finally moving in to steal the kill for itself. Perhaps the gun mage¡¯s topped-up energy bar was keeping him alive in more ways than one, the creature loath to kill him before its minions had their chance to soften him up first. If so, surely that applied to me, too. Once the smaller creatures had used me to grind their XP, it would have no reason to hold back from swallowing me whole. But for now, perhaps I too was beneath its notice.


    But all of this was just a theory. Whatever the hell was going on, every fallen warrior was reducing my own odds of getting out of the boss lair alive.


    Oh well, I told myself, gripping my sword as I readied myself to strike. Another day, another quest. Here goes nothing.

 Chapter 5.3

    I quickly weighed up my options. The shadow foal that I¡¯d watched feeding the stallion had returned its attention to the stricken raid party, and had only just begun attacking his latest victim (yet another generic-looking barbarian, this one with skulls on his shoulder pads and a lion¡¯s head garishly tattooed over his chest). I had no discernible way to read the barbarians HP (or none I was yet aware of, at any rate), but I had to assume that having been freshly targeted, the player was in less danger than the two warriors who¡¯d been under sustained attack throughout. One of the victims was a long-robed wizard-like character, and the other a shaven-headed barbarian gripping two bone-like axes. Off the two, the bearded spellcaster looked to be in a much more critical condition, his robes were soaked in blood from multiple wounds, all caused by the shadow foal¡¯s razor-like teeth. Deciding that this was my damsel-to-be, I promptly charged at his attacker from its blind spot, driving my sword deep into its muscular exposed back.


    -[ You stabbed the shadow foal for -30 HP damage. ]-


    -30, eh? Now that¡¯s more like it. Of course, it would help if I knew how much HP the damn thing had to begin with.


    The beast howled and thrashed but I pressed the attack, twisting the blade in the hope of inflicting further damage.


    -[ You wounded the shadow foal for -12 HP damage. ]-


    Bingo. The monster continued to screech, and I made to twist the blade further, hoping to drive it deeper as I drilled through the creature¡¯s flesh. But with another violent thrash, it broke free, almost twisting my sword from my hands in the process. I recomposed myself quickly, but the shadow foal was already locking its gaze onto me. Shit. Now facing the creature head-on, and feeling much less the braver for it, I panicked. The creature snarled, then sprung at me. As I fell back, I selected my pilfered cryo-grenade from my inventory and tossed the item into the leaping mob¡¯s face with all my might. A translucent layer of blue crystal began to form around its skin, freezing it in place.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how you like it, eh?¡± I goaded. The creature was now completely vulnerable, so I quickly got back to my feet, lunging forward and slashing my blade across its ugly, vulnerable face.


    -[ You wounded the shadow foal for -10 HP damage. ]-


    I would have liked nothing better than to merrily hack away at the ugly asshole until it finally fell, but that wasn¡¯t my mission. Other members of the raid party were still being casually worn down behind me. The wizard had been spared, for now at least, so it was time for me to move on, and worry about the inevitable defrost when the time came.


    I studied the two frenzied mobs as they systematically hacked into their chosen prey. They were alternating between tail-thrusts and gruesome bite-attacks, oblivious to everything else around them. If my previous attack was anything to go by, I had no hope of felling the frenzied beasts with a critical hit. The frozen foal would have been perfect test subject upon which to search for a weak spot, if I had the luxury of time that such a trial and error approach would require. But that wasn¡¯t an option. And just running at the creatures madly slashing at their backs wasn¡¯t enough. I had to fight smarter.


    As before, I charged the next mob, this time using the element of surprise to make a wide arcing slash at its spindly legs, severing three of the four from its left-hand side for a total of 60HP. As anticipated, the creature let out an unholy screech. it almost toppled before writing itself.


    Damn. So close, I thought to myself.


    I¡¯d hoped to sever all four, robbing the creature of its mobility, but it just about maintained its poise. Severely hobbled, the foal turned its attention upon me, trying its best to attack in awkward limping lunges. I parried its tail, twisted my body, and through my entire weight against its side, putting everything I had into tipping the beast over. My actions were rewarded with a satisfying crack as the final leg gave way, bent in a direction it hadn¡¯t been designed for, unable to support the combined burden of the creature¡¯s weight and my own pressure. Unsatisfied with the 20HP worth of damage to the mob¡¯s broken limb, I readied my sword, leaping to my feet. The beast thrashed on the cold dungeon floor, howling in pain. Its wails only intensified as I drove my blade deep into its exposed belly.


    -[ You severely wounded the shadow foal for -50 HP damage. ]-


    ¡°Why won¡¯t the fuckers die?¡± I gasped, wiping my brow. Again, I wished more than anything that I could see the creatures max HP. For all I knew, it could be one more sword strike away from death. But it could just as easily have HP in the hundreds, and time spent carving away its remaining HP was just extra time for the remaining foal to murder the other barbarian. Hell, for all I knew, he was dead already, and the creature had moved onto another. Like it or not, I had to continue to move on.


    I quickly discovered that the third mob had indeed moved onto another opponent. Unfortunately, I discovered this the hard way, as the frenzied beast came crashing into me, throwing me off my feet and sending me tumbling across the room.


    -[ Shadow foal charges you for -30 HP damage. ]-


    -30? Shit, that¡¯s over a third of my max HP. I seriously need to level up my resilience. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    I dragged my partially dazed head to face in my attacker¡¯s direction. I guess it couldn¡¯t listen to its siblings¡¯ howls of pain any longer and decided to lend a hand. Or, you know, a few legs. I could also see its original target (the bone-axe wielding barbarian) frozen in the distance behind it. He was awash in blood, his lion tattoo barely visible underneath a crimson layer of his own gore. But he was still standing, and that meant I¡¯d done my job. Just like the quest asked, I¡¯d delayed his impending death. Now I just had to worry about my own.


    Suddenly concerned that the parent creature may possess the same inclination toward rescue as my attacker, I quickly clocked the boss lurking to the side of the room. To my relief, it had no interest in intervening and continued to stare intently at the gun mage. I had no idea why it found the player so damn fascinating, but whatever the reason, I was glad of the distraction.


    Alas, that distraction only led to my own, as the remaining foal followed up its attack by sprinting towards me, pinning me down with its front legs and biting deep into my vulnerable back.


    -[ Shadow foal bites you for -40 HP damage. ]-


    -[ Warning, you are under the effect of a bleeding debuff. Effect: you will continue to lose 4HP per minute unless the injury is healed. ]-


    I screamed. Down to my last 10HP and in excruciating pain, I tried in vain to pull up my inventory and select the healing potion I had stolen from the barbarian earlier. But I was groggy and the pain was slowing my actions. Before I could select the much-needed item, I was violently yanked to one side, as the shadow foal (still biting deep into my back and side) began violently dragging me toward its master.


    Shit. I¡¯ve been tenderized, and now I¡¯m being served up, I fretted.


    Pain, unlike anything I¡¯d ever experienced flared through my avatar as the creature mob-handled me. Focusing my will, I fought through it, selecting the ¡®miscellaneous items¡¯ tab in my inventory and calling up the stolen healing potion. I grasped it for dear life as the creature dragged me to its master like a bloody offering, discarding me a few feet from its huge grinning head before charging off to fetch dessert.


    The creature¡¯s attention had finally shifted from the gun mage because it was now entirely fixed upon me. It lazily leaned in and sniffed my bloody avatar. That tiny hesitation gave me the small window of opportunity I needed. I fumbled at the lid of the bottle, yanking the cork free and downing the potion in one go. A strange sensation washed over me, as my flesh began to knit itself together, and the pains that wracked my body faded away.


    -[ You have received a healing buff. Full health restored. ]-


    Yeah, for all the good it would do me. I wasn¡¯t certain that my theory (that the boss considered eating a fighter with full hp a waste of XP for its children) was anything more than an attempt to rationalize a mindless beast¡¯s irrational behavior. Its parenting skills were questionable, after all, when you considered how it had happily allowed them to play with the dangerous warriors, not even stepping in to intervene when they got hurt. But even if I was right, I knew I was probably only delaying the inevitable. I perked up a little at my next thought on the matter: hang on, that was a good thing. It was the quest, after all.


    The boss seemed uncertain of its next step, its head slowly turning back and forth, splitting its attention between the allegedly fascinating gun mage, and the apparently tasty noob.


    Perhaps it had decided that my renewed health made me more trouble than I was currently worth, or maybe my XP theory was on the money. Either way, it howled, then went back to staring at the gun mage. And that threw up a dilemma. I¡¯d bought the wizard some time, and probably done the same for the shaven-headed barbarian. The quest required me to distract all the enemy. Was I seriously expected to intervene on behalf of the gun mage, too?


    My heart began to pound when I realized that the last mobile foal was again approaching me. Shit. The howl had been a summons, and the little bastard was on its way back to soften me up again. Without the element of surprise, I was completely outclassed, and it was only a matter of time before the damned thing was tossing me back at its lazy master¡¯s feet. Granted, I could potentially repeat my previous tactic: I still had the bundle of healing herbs that I purchased before I entered, after all. But that strategy was only good for one more go. Beyond that, my odds of survival were looking grim.


    Oh well. I¡¯m as good as dead now anyway. For the sake of my quest, I may as well be seen to be attempting to rescue the gun mage.


    Yup, it was time to do my good deed for the magical cowboy wannabe. I was going down, but I sure as hell wasn¡¯t going down without a fight.


    I charged at the bosses back leg, hoping to glance it hard enough with my blade to get the bastard¡¯s attention, but without slowing my own momentum in the process. A clang rang out as the pitiful strike connected, barely shaving 2HP from my foe. But did the job. I now had the snarling shadow stallion¡¯s undivided attention. Lucky me. I kept running, retreating behind the boss before the smaller mob could pounce on me. But I¡¯d forgotten about the boss¡¯s trump card. That damned scorpion-like tail lashed out at me, sweeping my legs out from under my avatar, sending me crashing to the unforgiving floor. The damage (10HP) was minimal, given the power of my opponent, but the blow had only been intended to stop me in my tracks. I looked up just in time to see a tortured face with a spike protruding from its open mouth come wailing down toward me. Shit!


    On instinct I rolled, the stinger scratching my flesh and tearing through my flimsy cloth tunic as it pierced the stone floor I¡¯d lay upon seconds beforehand. The wound was only a scratch, but it was a scratch from a stinger the size of a damn sword, and it robbed me of a further 12HP. I was down to 58HP already, and it hadn¡¯t even hit me properly yet. But at least I was still alive. For now.


    I was suddenly distracted by a message in my head¡­


    -[ Quest complete. You have successfully delayed all three enemy combatants, granting the raid party additional time to recover. Reward: 1 rep point. 10 gold. Increased chance of rescue by the raid party. ]-


    Damn the distraction. I¡¯d barely registered how narrow my escape had been before realizing that the tail had already drawn back, and it was rushing toward me again. This time, it was coming in at an angle, positioned to follow me if I attempted to dodge. And it was aimed firmly at my chest. With no hope of escape, I tried my best to parry the blow with my sword. But it was futile, the creature was vastly more powerful. The sword shattered, followed by my rib cage.


    -[ Shadow stallion impales you for -55 HP damage. ]-


    -[ Warning: This is a critical strike. You are under the effect of a bleeding debuff. Effect: you will continue to lose 20HP per minute unless the injury is healed. ]-


    And the main problem with that was, I only had a grand total of 3HP left to lose. That said, as I was raised up into the air upon my horrific skewer, I quickly realized that I probably didn¡¯t have a minute left anyway. I was in absolute agony.


    From my elevated position, I could see the entire raid party still standing there, frozen as before. I¡¯d bought them extra time, but there was no way of telling when the debuff would wear off. So much for my increased chance of rescue, then. I desperately tried to reach into my inventory, pain crippling my attempts to focus on my status menu as it finally glimmered into view. Blood choked my avatar as I entered the ¡®miscellaneous items¡¯ screen. I had one bunch of healing herbs. I prayed it would be enough.


    I never reached it. The world abruptly flipped around me as a violent flick of the boss¡¯s tale sent me spinning into the air. And the last thing I felt was the jagged rows of teeth shredding my tender flesh, as the darkness finally consumed me.

 The Raid Party - 4

    Nyx had watched the entire sequence of events (or as much as her limited view would allow, at any rate) with interest. She hadn¡¯t heard what the demon had said to the mysterious swordsnoob: the creature¡¯s telepathy had left her with little more than broken fragments of the conversation, chiefly the newcomer¡¯s protests. What was clear was that the savvy guard had somehow convinced the new arrival to buy her party more time. And to his credit, the noob had done surprisingly well in this endeavor, considering his pitiful level. But his brutal end had been inevitable. She had plenty of questions for that one when he respawned. Chiefly, how the hell did he manage to enter a sealed boss chamber in the middle of a fight? The secrets behind such a maneuver would be invaluable, should she ever find herself in this position again. And then there was the other mystery: why would he even want to arrive here?


    But these were questions for a later date when she was back in her own cell and the stranger was at her feet. She would bleed the answers out of him, if necessary. For now, her party had more pressing concerns. Casualties had been high thus far. The noob had struck back, disabling two of the shadow foals (one of them permanently), and that would go some (small) way towards evening the odds. But the enemy still possessed every other advantage.


    Craynor stood at the very periphery of her vision, no doubt seething over the noob¡¯s blatant thievery of his valuable items. The tank possessed the highest resistance stat of her entire party and would inevitably be the first to break free of the powerful debuff. She prayed that eventuality wouldn¡¯t take much longer. He was best suited to draw the enemy¡¯s ire of all of them: at over one thousand, the tank¡¯s max HP dwarfed even hers. If required to, the tattooed powerhouse could surely buy the rest of his party the time they needed to recover.


    As if summoned by her thoughts, Craynor¡¯s familiar war cry suddenly echoed through the chamber. A tank-specific skill, the high-level taunt was intended to draw the enemy toward him, and away from weaker vulnerable troops. Which in this case, happened to be the entire party.


    The boss stared at the warrior for a few seconds, before turning away with disinterest, returning its many-eyed gaze to the increasingly vulnerable-looking gun mage. But the smaller mob found itself powerless to resist. It let out a howl, and began to scuttle forward, driven by an overwhelming urge to sever the guttural cry at its source. Satisfied with his efforts, the barbarian reinforced the taunt with another cry, raised his sword, and rushed forward to meet the challenge.


    ¡°Wait,¡± came a shout from somewhere behind him, stopping the impressive specimen in his tracks. She couldn¡¯t turn, but Nyx recognized the voice. It was their warlock contractor, Kriabal.


    ¡°Damn you, mage,¡± spat Craynor, maintaining his focus on the charging mob as he spoke. ¡°Never take control of my avatar like that again. It¡¯s bad enough that the bastard boss immobilized me, without you having your turn, too. I feel fucking violated.¡±


    ¡°Shut the fuck up and stand aside,¡± rebuked the warlock, rushing to the tank¡¯s side. The physical difference between their two avatars was glaring, but the levels of power contained within were fairly evenly matched. Craynor understood this well, and he didn¡¯t have time to fight the warlock. With a small grumble under his breath, he conceded to the spellcaster, stepping aside.


    The underworld-class mage smiled a smug smile and activated his dominate skill, catching the shadow foal firmly in his mana¡¯s grasp as the creature prepared itself to pounce. The warlock¡¯s mana reserve had been given ample time to recharge, and he poured the magical energy on hard, easily breaking the creatures will.


    -[ Update: Your party has received a new associate. Name: Undefined. Type: Level 2 shadow foal. HP102/250. Please name your new associate. ]-


    The warlock obliged, and Shithead the Wonder Horse promptly rushed to his new master¡¯s side. Craynor allowed a satisfied grin to spread across his face as he realized that his party had grown. As for the shadow stallion, it¡¯s weak AI was finally beginning to grasp that it could no longer rely on its minions for sustenance, and the beast was slowly rising up upon its abundance of nightmarish, elongated legs.


    ¡°Three on one¡­¡± the tank scoffed, sharpening his blade on his axe. ¡°I like those odds even better. Now come on, stop dicking about and let¡¯s get the bastard. I want to see what an epic-class arcane blade is capable of.¡±


    The tank began to casually stride toward his infinitely more powerful foe, the swagger in his step taking even the warlock by surprise. As he advanced, Craynor swiped at the air with his newly acquired epic-class weapon. The arcane blade left a trail of glowing mana in its wake.


    How did he get so damn cocky? wondered Kriabal, charging his own lesser weapon as he reluctantly followed. He¡¯s supposed to be the party¡¯s primary tank, yet the crazy bastard doesn¡¯t even carry a shield.


    Kriabal turned to his own shield, the panting monstrosity that was now enslaved to his will. The mob¡¯s HP was lower than the warlock would have preferred, thanks to its earlier tussles with the unfortunate noob. But it would grant him a means with which to back up his ranged attacks with physical damage, and against a creature with magical resistance, that could be a godsend. Satisfied with his new toy, he returned his gaze to the party¡¯s tank. Then, he almost choked. Craynor, clearly not one who cared much for tactics, was standing directly in front of the shadow stallion, bold as brass, cleaving at the air in a whirl of mana-infused swordplay.


    ¡°Stop showing off and cut him, you stupid wanker,¡± bellowed a third, unexpected voice. It was followed by a volley of magical blasts, slivers of mana that cut through the air and sparked off the creature¡¯s thick hide for a total of 21HP damage.


    Nyx knew that voice well. It was the apprentice. To her relief, he too had survived, and he was evidently back in the fight. She should have known that the magic-users would be next to free themselves, their arcane nature granting them a higher resistance to the paralysis buff.


    But on that note, she wondered, what the hell¡¯s keeping the damn gun mage?


    The boss made to charge the source of the ranged attacks, but Craynor swiftly took advantage of the apprentice¡¯s distraction, launching into a spinning overhead chop aimed squarely at the femur of the boss¡¯s front leg. In a flash of arcane energy, the blade sliced deep into the boss¡¯s thick segmented limb. Inky black blood sprayed against the tank¡¯s tattooed torso as his status-bot confirmed 200HP worth of damage. The creature howled in pain. But to Craynor¡¯s horror, his powerful artifact had barely made it halfway through his opponent before becoming firmly wedged in the creature¡¯s tissue, leaving him vulnerable. The shadow stallion writhed in pain, but only for the briefest of moments, its eyes fixing on the one who had sought to do it harm. Meanwhile, Craynor struggled, refusing to sacrifice his precious blade, pressing his foot against the beast in hope of leveraging the artifact free. It was an act that left the tank even more vulnerable, and the shadow stallion quickly took advantage, lunging at the warrior with its lethal, powerful jaws.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    As the tank attempted to raise his axe in a futile attempt to block, yet another arcane blast peppered the beast, shaving off a further 28HP. This one had emanated from the warlock¡¯s smoldering staff. His dominated beast was promptly ordered to join the fray, snapping at its parent like a terrier snapping at the heels of an Alsatian, and with a similar outcome. The hulking beast lashed out, taking the foal in its jaws and biting down hard, killing it instantly.


    -[ NPC associate ¡®Shithead the Wonder Horse¡¯ has died. Familiars remaining in the party: 0 ]-


    This was just the distraction Craynor had needed. Returning his axe to his inventory, the tank hefted his sword free with both hands, before rolling to safety, joining the warlock.


    ¡°Holy shit, that was a close one,¡± announced a grinning Craynor, springing to his feet. ¡°Guess I need to charge the blade a bit longer next time I attempt something like that, eh?¡±


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± spat the warlock, ignoring the question. ¡°What the hell were you playing at? You cost me my damn familiar with that stunt.¡±


    ¡°Aww, don¡¯t worry, if our magical princess wants a new pony, there¡¯s another one over there in the freezer cabinet,¡± scoffed Craynor.


    ¡°What?¡±


    He pointed his axe toward the frozen mob at the back of the room. ¡°The cryo-grenade that damned noob stole from me was only a level II enchantment, barely a patch on Nyx¡¯s cryo-dagger. Its effect will probably wear off any minute. it looks like momma bitch is too distracted to bother us while she¡¯s feeding, so I suggest you go work your magic now. That way, the bastard thing will already be on our side when it defrosts.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t sure about being referred to as the party¡¯s ¡®magical princess¡¯, but Kriabal couldn¡¯t argue with the tank¡¯s logic and headed off to enslave the last remaining foal. Satisfied that this was going to do wonders for his fledgling leadership stat, Craynor turned next to the apprentice.


    ¡°Oi, Gandalf.¡±


    Grandel grunted in reluctant acknowledgement.


    ¡°Make yourself useful. Start healing the poor fucks who came under attack by the smaller mobs. I¡¯ll go finish off the foal the noob crippled earlier.¡±


    Nyx watched as the tank left to steal a little XP, and the apprentice rushed to heal her stricken troops. To her surprise, Grandel started by placing his hands upon her, despite her obvious lack of damage.


    What the hell are you doing you dumb fuck, she cried, albeit internally. You better not be using this as an excuse to feel me up, or you¡¯ll really need those healing skills by the time I¡¯m done with you. Go find someone who actually needs your help.


    Powerless to protest, Nyx stood in her pixel-based prison, her attention split between Grandel¡¯s wandering hands and the distant gory sight of the boss mercilessly consuming its young. ¡®Shithead the Wonder Horse¡¯ had provided a momentary distraction, but it had hardly been a gamechanger before its death.


    Damn that Craynor, she thought to herself. As the only active member of the core party, he was now in charge by default. And if his piss poor leadership got her mages killed as swiftly as it had Kriabal¡¯s familiar, then the whole party was done for. That was when she noticed something else, something that shouldn¡¯t have been there. Lurking in the shadows, shimmering as if corrupted, stood a female elf. She was glancing around with a look of concern on her annoyingly cute face. Then as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone. Powerless to even point out the oddity, Nyx put it down to a glitch, until suddenly¡­


    -[ Magical attack cleansed. Nyx has successfully broken free of the paralyze debuff. ]-


    The voice in her head had barely finished its announcement before the wizard darted off to repeat the act on her fellow warriors.


    Well, that was unexpected, she thought to herself. Perhaps there¡¯s more than one way to ¡®heal¡¯ the troops.


    Finally free to move, Nyx selected her status menu, scrolled to the ¡®raid party¡¯ tab, and checked the party¡¯s stats. It made for unpleasant reading. Of the fifteen individuals who¡¯d entered the chamber with her, seven were dead, leaving her with five barbarians and her three magic users under her command. Of those five barbarians two were tanks and two were berserkers, but all four were still imprisoned by the paralyze debuff. As, to her surprise, was the gun mage. Still, her hopes were increased slightly as an unexpected addition appeared on the list.


    -[ Update: Your party has received a new associate. Name: GlueFactory. Type: Level 2 shadow foal. HP 181/250. ]-


    The warlock had successfully dominated the final shadow foal and added it to their ranks. Nyx rolled her eyes at the name Kriabal had given the mob: ¡®GlueFactory.¡¯ Although to be fair, it probably summed up the creature¡¯s chances of survival.


    Kriabal was more than satisfied with his latest familiar. It had a lot more HP than his last pet, and thanks to the cryo-grenade, the beast had been powerless to resist his domination, costing him a great deal less mana to tame than he had first anticipated. He was even happier when his real leader rushed to his side, very much unfrozen.


    ¡°What¡¯s your mana situation like?¡± she demanded.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got 130 mana points available. It¡¯ll be enough to lay down a few ranged attack spells, but nothing spectacular, given that thing¡¯s resistance. If you could buy me some time to charge a more powerful attack, I think I might have a spell that can bypass the bastard¡¯s magical resistance¡­¡±


    ¡°How long do you need?¡±


    ¡°No chance.¡± She rebuked. ¡°In case you haven¡¯t noticed, we¡¯re painfully low on numbers, and I can¡¯t afford to take my only soldier with range attacks off the field, no matter how feeble they might be.¡±


    Kriabal grunted, feeling slightly offended. Nyx didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Speaking of which,¡± she continued, urgency entering her voice, ¡°the big bastard has just about finished its latest meal, and now that it¡¯s run out of gatherers, I¡¯d imagine it¡¯s going to be coming at us directly. I need you to command your mob to-¡±


    ¡°Sorry, no can do,¡± cut in the warlock. ¡°Ol¡¯ GlueFactory here is still under the influence of the cryo-grenade. I can¡¯t make him do shit.¡±


    The amazon let out an exasperated gasp and turned to see how the wizard was progressing. To her relief, the last of the barbarians was shaking off his stiffness, and the apprentice was now looking nervously toward the gun mage. She understood why. Getting to that one was going to be a problem.


    ¡°Forget the gun mage for now,¡± ordered Nyx. ¡°Can you do anything to help defrost this ugly bastard?¡±


    She pointed to GlueFactory, expectantly. The apprentice nodded and over, getting to work on breaking the spell. She noticed that he wasn¡¯t so hands-on, this time, and made a mental note to break those hands later.


    ¡°I want a spearhead formation with tanks to the front,¡± she bellowed. ¡°Craynor at the point. Kriabal, I want you behind Craynor hitting that thing with whatever range attacks you can muster, you must be able to squeeze out another fireball by now. When your pet¡¯s ready, don¡¯t engage him. I want you to hold him back in case we need a distraction that¡¯ll give us time to retreat. ¡°BulldogBrit, SniperJoe¡­¡±


    The two berserkers turned, the first was stretching his once-frozen limbs: a lion chested powerhouse brandishing twin axes forged from bone. The second was an oddly short barbarian, an actual dwarf IRL who was determined not to be typecast.


    ¡°I want you two with me, she continued. ¡°We¡¯ll circle around back, see if we can do something about that damn tail. Healer¡­¡±


    The apprentice looked up from his attempts to counteract the cryo-grenade.


    ¡°¡­continue with what you¡¯re doing, but stay within healing range and do your best to keep both sub-units topped up throughout the battle. Only risk a projectile attack if we¡¯re all in good health and you can spare the mana.¡±


    The wizard nodded his understanding and continued to work on the frozen mob. Craynor, in turn, ordered his troops into formation, while Nyx circled around the boss with hers in tow. And not a moment too soon. Having fed on its young, the shadow stallion was ready to return to the offensive.


    It was time for the annoying humans to die.

 Chapter 6.1

    -[ You have respawned into the world of Atone Online. ]-


    -[ Warning: This is a moderately dangerous zone. Statistically, this area presents a 73% probability of being assaulted by another player and a 12% probability of being attacked by an enemy monster. Caution is advised. ]-


    I tried to fight back the flurry of status messages that hammered my brain, clutching my hands tightly over my ears. But they just kept on coming.


    -[ Diagnostic alert: You are suffering from the effects of a corrupted memory file. Attempted memory rebuild is at 4%. ]-


    -[ Warning: Your mana supply is empty. Mana is required to initiate special actions. ]-


    After what felt like an eternity, the flurry of status messages finally fell silent. I guessed that they must have been building up while I was being ¡®transferred¡¯. My body ached, and that didn¡¯t bode particularly well for the future. One thing was for certain: my sense of touch had been well and truly activated, and the pain settings were worryingly realistic. I could still feel the shadow stallion¡¯s razor-like teeth grinding my avatar apart, and my panicked heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest.


    -[ Warning: Simulated death may cause mental trauma. ]-


    No shit.


    As the brain fog began to clear, and my vision feed finally began to sync to my avatar, I realized that I was sat in front of a flickering bonfire, yet I was still very much indoors. The floor was paved with granite blocks, and my ankle was chained in place by a length of rusty iron. On the matching stone walls, primitive torches flickered, casting a warm glow into corners untouched by the central pyro.


    ¡°Welcome to the dungeon¡± announced a gravelly voice from somewhere behind me, signaling that my audio feed had returned. ¡°Yeh took yer bloody time.¡±


    ¡°Another dungeon¡± I gasped?¡± suddenly grasping the true nature of my digital damnation. ¡°What the hell?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a prisoner mate,¡± piped up another voice, this one coming from the stranger to my left. I watched him rise to his feet and stretch, cracking a bone in his neck as if wearing flesh, not code. I had to give credit to whoever was responsible for our digital bodies: the attention to detail was incredible.


    The stranger wore the visage of what I assumed had to be a human rogue, clad in light leather armor, his frame skinny and his features angled. The possible-rogue prodded at his artificial body a few times as if trying to decipher whether or not it was real. Newsflash, it wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°We¡¯re all fucking prisoners,¡± he eventually declared, as he continued to poke and prod his new avatar. ¡°Where did you expect to spawn, exactly? Disneyworld?¡±


    ¡°To be honest, I¡¯m not sure where I thought I¡¯d appear,¡± I admitted, giving thanks that wherever I was, it was a lot less chaotic than my last spawning point. In a strange way, the fire was almost soothing. And after what I¡¯d just been through, that was a small blessing. My heart began to calm.


    I supposed that it all made sense, in a way. I¡¯d been taught a hard lesson right from the start: Atone Online was going to be no picnic. This was my prison within a prison; somewhere I would have to earn my right to walk free from. And even if that first taste of freedom was just a larger cell with an artificial digital sky above it, I¡¯d get there, and keep pushing on. After all, what other choice did I have? The physical world had deserted me. My body was ash. And my soul was a discarded scrap of abandonware, left to fend for itself in a fucking dungeon. Yup, I¡¯d really hit the bottom. All I could do was ascend.


    That was when my conversation with the skinny demon came flooding back to me.


    Holy crap, I died while only at level 1. Have I leveled-locked at zero already?


    I urgently pulled up my status panel to check.


    USERNAME: SHADE


    PRIMARY SKILL: SWORDSMAN ¨C LEVEL 1


    XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 13


    SECONDARY SKILL: THIEF ¨C LEVEL 0 (RESPAWN PENALTY -1)


    XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 100


    Rep: 0/30


    HP: 80/80


    Mana: 0/40


    Alliances: None


    I breathed a sigh of relief. I¡¯d lost a level from my secondary skill, but my primary skill was still active, saving me from reverting to the dreaded ¡®worker¡¯ status. When I first gained the dubious new ability, I¡¯d assumed it was yet another albatross around my neck. But it had turned out to be a blessing. Then I remembered what else the demon had told me: respawning costs one level and one base point. I hurriedly flicked to my stats menu, keen to see what I¡¯d lost. There was no point checking my ¡®intangible¡¯ stats, they had nothing to lose to begin with. So with that in mind, I focused purely on the physical.


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 3 (Cap 4)


    Agility: 1 (Cap 5)


    Speed: 3 (Cap 4)


    Stamina: 2 (RESPAWN PENALTY -1) (Cap 4)


    Resilience: 3 (Cap 3)


    Accuracy: 1 (Cap 4)


    Defence: 1 (Cap 5)


    Armed combat: 3 (Cap 5)


    Unarmed combat: 0 (Cap 3)


    Carrying capacity: 1 (Cap 2)


    Stamina, eh? Oh well, I suppose it could have been worse.


    Curious about my new surroundings I turned to survey the area behind me,  and in doing so, I almost jumped out of my avatar. Why? Because when I branded this place my digital hell, I hadn¡¯t quite meant it so literally.


    The demon was huge, heavily armored, and possessed a body mass that was easily double that of my own. He wore plates of black almost organic-looking metal across his thick torso and was coated in a layer of pitch-black leathery skin that made it almost impossible to tell where armor ended, and where the demon began. His thick neck supported the head of a bull, albeit one that brandished four curved horns resembling those of a ram, and its eyes, of which it had six in total, glowed like luminous, yellow bile. As if that wasn¡¯t enough to give me nightmares, the beast carried a spear formed from the same black, organic-looking metal that covered its body. It was almost pitchfork-like in appearance, splitting into three elongated prongs, each tipped with shards of glowing luminous metal. Oh, and most importantly, this demon had no barrier to keep it the hell away from me.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    I stumbled backward in fright, the bonfire almost singeing me as I scrambled to retreat. I was literally caught between a demon and a fiery inferno. Did the sadists who designed this hellhole have to be so fucking literal?


    ¡°Relax, noob. I ain¡¯t here to hurt you,¡± the creature growled. ¡°I fuckin¡¯ wish I was, mind. At least that would give me somethin¡¯ to do.¡±


    Now that the initial shock was fading (hey, I¡¯ve just been eaten by a damn dungeon-monster, I have every right to be jumpy, okay?), I had to admit that the demon did look oddly passive. In contrast to its imposing visage, it was slumped against the prison wall, and looking incredibly bored.


    ¡°If you aren¡¯t here to hurt us, what are you doing,¡± I asked, partly dreading the answer.


    ¡°Guardin¡¯ the damn spawnin¡¯ point, what does it look like?¡± he spat. ¡°Someone has to make sure the fresh meat isn¡¯t tampered with before it goes inta storage.¡±


    Fresh meat? The demon¡¯s choice of words was more than a little concerning. Especially coming from a mouth that possessed so many rows of jagged teeth. But he did seem genuinely disinterested in us (for the moment, at least). Relieved, I turned to my fellow new arrivals.


    The rogue looked equally reassured by the creature¡¯s apathy toward us, and was testing the limits of his chain (not coincidently in the opposite direction of the demon). It was long enough to wander freely around the room, but not long enough to escape it. Good to know.


    Next, I cast my gaze to the prisoner on my right. He was a dwarf and looked oddly relaxed, given the circumstances. One thing that immediately struck me was that this new spawn was no warrior. Dressed in little more than the rags of a peasant, he bore little of the muscle that I had expected of the allegedly stronger race. He gave me a wink, and (now realizing that I was staring) I awkwardly looked away. The final, most imposing prisoner sat opposite me. The large fire was obstructing much of my view, but his hulking frame was impossible to miss. It was coated in an abundance of thick, crimson fur. This, I had to assume, was a beastling. He looked lost and confused, possibly because his senses were still syncing to his new artificial body.


    I noticed that all three had the same grey ¡®I¡¯ symbol hovering next to their left arm, but I was the only one who possessed the faint crest of the raid party. I was about to touch it when one of the prisoners distracted me.


    ¡°What you grinnin¡¯ about short stuff?¡± spat the beastling, mirroring my own confusion over the dwarf¡¯s cheery demeanor, albeit in a much less private way. The prisoner spoke with some difficulty, being unaccustomed to the two large tusks that protruded from his not inconsiderable underbite.


    The dwarf just continued to smile, staring into the dancing flame. Not one to be ignored, the beastling rose to his feet and strode over to address the dwarf, dragging his chain behind him. Now I could better comprehend the ¡®underworld class¡¯ prisoner¡¯s monstrous frame. It easily dwarfed my own human avatar, and was indeed covered from head to literal toe in a thick matted crimson pelt. He repeated his question, this time demanding to know what was so ¡®damn amusing.¡¯


    ¡°You¡¯ll find out¡±, replied the dwarf, smugly. His bravery in the face of the man-beast was to be commended. Not his common sense, mind. I was no expert when it came to prison survival tactics, but not pissing off the big hairy fucker seemed like a fairly obvious strategy.


    ¡°Any minute now,¡± added the dwarf, finally looking up to face his aggressor.


    The beast turned to me, then to the rogue, his face a picture of confusion. ¡°Can you believe this guy?¡± he finally asked. The rogue simply shrugged in return.


    ¡°Ah, there we go,¡± the dwarf announced, rising to his feet. Admittedly, he didn¡¯t gain much more elevation than he had when he was sitting down. ¡°Okay boys, everyone listen up.


    ¡°There what goes,¡± I asked, slowly making my way to my own feet. I¡¯d just been through the trauma of being eaten by Black Beauty¡¯s evil twin, and had little patience for the dwarfs riddles.


    ¡°I have just received a payment of five hundred gold into my commissary,¡± bragged the dwarf, ¡°a gift from my beloved. Upon my sentencing, she dutifully converted our life savings into the local currency and sent it to me in my hour of need. All to ensure my safety, God bless her. I am prepared to share this with any one of you fine individuals, if you would be prepared to be my bodyguard, while I become accustomed to my temporary confinement in this lowly establishment.¡±


    Three panels immediately opened up, one in front of each of our avatars. I recognized its nature right away¡­


    -[ Quest received from user: Samusk. Would you like to view details? ]-


    Hmmmm. Because the last one went so well, didn¡¯t it?


    Slightly bewildered, I clicked yes.


    NEW QUEST ¨C Protect the dwarf.


    You have been offered a quest by Samusk the dwarf. This prisoner is in need of a bodyguard and is prepared to pay for your services.


    Goal: Do not allow any harm to befall Samusk the dwarf.


    Type of quest ¨C Ongoing.


    Reward: 125 gold (weekly)


    Rep effect ¨C Unknown.


    Accept Y/N?


    The beastling laughed, turning to the rogue. A private message was quickly exchanged between the two. The rogue gave the beastling a nod, along with a devilish smile.


    Crap, those two are up to something.


    I cast my gaze downward, following my loose-fitting black trousers down to the metal shackle on my ankle. The chain it was attached to appeared to be of a similar length to that of the rogue, so I knew it was enough for me to get up and walk around the room, but not alas, to escape it. The important thing was, it was enough to reach the dwarf, if I had to.


    ¡°I have skills in both thievery and assassination,¡± announced the rogue, hitting the ¡®decline¡¯ button on the holographic screen. ¡°Whereas you, my short-arsed friend, appear to be lacking in any form of combat trait whatsoever. You don¡¯t even have any bloody weapons in your inventory. So the way I see it, I can pluck whatever I wish from your coin purse, and you can¡¯t do a damned thing to stop me.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said the dwarf, still looking oddly calm despite the development. He turned to the beastling. ¡°And what about you, my fine furry friend? Would you like to take me up on my generous offer of employment?¡±


    The beastling smirked. ¡°It¡¯s a good offer he replied, scratching his matted hide as he spoke. ¡°But to tell you the truth, I like his plan better. It seems more¡­ efficient.¡±


    Yep, I could see how this was going. Wordlessly, I moved to put myself between the beastling and the dwarf.


    ¡°You got something¡¯ to add, pretty-boy?¡± grunted the larger player, pressing a powerful hand against my chest. It had claws. Big tear-your-guts-out-as-quick-as-look-at-you claws. But I¡¯d dealt with worse mere minutes beforehand. With that in mind, I held my nerve.


    ¡°What the hell are you playing at?¡± I spat, swatting his hand away. ¡°We¡¯re here to atone, remember? The clue is in the fucking name. Do you seriously think robbing the first dwarf you meet is gonna help you rep up and get out of this dump?¡±


    ¡°Ha! How naive are you, swordsnoob?¡±


    Swordsnoob?


    ¡°They didn¡¯t put us here to redeem ourselves, you dumb asshole,¡± continued the beastling, saliva hitting my face as he spoke. ¡°They put us here to die. Hell, we¡¯re all as good as dead, in so far as the real world is concerned. The sooner you accept that, pretty-boy, the sooner you¡¯ll learn how to survive in this place. Now walk away, before I¡¯m forced to remove yer ability to do so.¡±


    I turned to the demon for backup. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be the guard, yeah? Tell me, are you going to stand for this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to stand at all, if I can avoid it,¡± replied the lazy creature, scratching behind his horns as he spoke. ¡°My job is to guard the spawnin¡¯ point. No one said anythin¡¯ about protectin¡¯ you from each other. Try to relax, a pack of NPC puppets will be along to take yeh to yer larder soon, so try not to die beforehand. The more times yeh respawn, the tougher yer meat gets.¡±


    Meat? Larder? What the hell? Are these things guarding us, or farming us? I wondered. I guess that¡¯s what I get for turning to a demon for help. Oh well, priorities.


    Without further hesitation, I called up my inventory. The ¡®items¡¯ screen was split into various directories and subdirectories, and most of the sections were empty. But the weapons tab was the most predominantly placed of all. I opened that window and selected my sword.


    -[ Item selected: Premium Sword (shattered). The highest caliber sword available to new arrivals, this weapon has been badly damaged during combat. Attack +2. Durability 12/40. ]-


    Dammit, I¡¯d forgotten all about the damage to my weapon. Its ornate handle was still intact, but it led to a shattered blade that was little more than a third of its original length. Oh well, it was still a hell of a lot better than my dagger. I took up a defensive stance. On my blindside, the rogue whistled.


    ¡°Nice piece, friend. Well, once upon a time, at least. A premium sword¡¯s not exactly a standard issue item. Siriso must have taken a real shine to you, eh? What did you do? Offer to suck his code?¡±


    ¡°In case it isn¡¯t obvious, I¡¯m taking the bodyguard job,¡± I announced, ignoring the insinuation and selecting ¡®accept¡¯ on the dwarf¡¯s request.


    -[ You have accepted a quest. Protect the dwarf. ]-


    -[ Rep bonus. You have put yourself in danger of immediate physical harm to defend a weaker individual. This is a commendable act. Rep +1. ]-


    Nice one.


    ¡°If anybody wants to rob this dwarf, they¡¯re going to have to go through me, first¡± I proudly declared.


    -[ You have initiated a quest ]-


    ¡­announced my status system.


    What the fuck?


    ISSUED QUEST ¨C Rob the dwarf.


    You have issued a challenge to the room.


    Goal: Defeat the swordsman to take the dwarf¡¯s gold.


    Type of quest ¨C One off.


    Reward: 500 gold


    Rep effect ¨C Minus one. Stealing is frowned upon in the world of Atone Online, and is not harmonious to rehabilitation.


    Bugger. I really need to figure out the controls before I open my fucking mouth again¡­


    -[ Your quest has been accepted by Garak (Rogue, level 1). ]-


    -[ Your quest has been accepted by M¡¯stofus (Beastling, level 1). ]-


    Of course it has. Because fucking shitting bollocks.

 Chapter 6.2

    Yep, to my distress, the invitation was quickly accepted by both prisoners, and the rogue and beastling were already beginning to stalk toward us.


    ¡°Um, preferably one at a time,¡± I added, backing us away with my sword arm extended. ¡°Is it ah¡­ too late to add that to the small print? Heh.¡±


    I glanced to the dwarf, who looked embarrassed.


    -[ Your quest has been declined by S¡¯kraag (Demon, level 6). ]-


    I hastily turned to the demon in question. He had just finished closing down my (accidental) offer for him to kick the shit out of my noobish avatar and was shaking his head in disbelief. So, he¡¯s even too lazy to rob the dwarf and his inept bodyguard, eh? Well, at least that was something to be thankful for.


    ¡°Um, help request to Mai?¡± I announced, clutching at straws. ¡°Swordsnoob to help-file, come in, help-file.¡±


    ¡°No help files available down here, lad,¡± sighed the dwarf.


    ¡°You¡¯re outclassed,¡± scoffed the rogue, as he moved into position to surround me. ¡°If you¡¯d put any base points into perception, you¡¯d know that.¡±


    ¡°You can see my stats?¡± I gasped, shocked by the revelation.


    The rogue stared at me for a moment, before finally declaring: ¡°Fuck, what a noob.¡±


    ¡°What did you see?¡± asked the beastling, confirming that he did not possess this mysterious stat-reading ability.


    ¡°Pretty-boy has zero perception,¡± replied the rogue, with a laugh.


    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± responded the beastling, roaring with laughter. ¡°Even I put two base points into perception. How does he expect to survive without the ability to read his opponents?¡±


    I quickly realized that even the dwarf was looking at me like I was a fucking idiot. Dammit, so that explained perception, then. In hindsight, I probably should have asked Mai to explain it to me. My opponents knew more about me than I did about them, just by studying my avatar. It wasn¡¯t a great position to be in before a fight, admittedly.


    The dwarf began to assist me by reading off our enemy¡¯s stats, but I was too distracted to pay attention. The creature was now lunging at me, and the fight was on. I¡¯d put 2 base points into speed, but the beast was naturally gifted in that area, easily surpassing me. It closed the gap between us with a powerful swipe of its arm, tearing into my skin with its clawed fingertips before I could even raise my ridiculously weakened sword.


    -[ Beastling¡¯s claws cut you for -8HP damage. ]-


    The beastling¡¯s fingernails sliced into my soft face, missing one of my precious eyeballs by little more than a hair¡¯s breadth. The bastard was trying to blind me. Wincing in pain, I swung on the balls of my feet and slashed wide with my paltry weapon. Luck, not skill guided my blade, willing it to graze the creature¡¯s thigh. My attacker winced, momentarily halting his advance.


    -[ You have cut the beastling attacker for -4HP damage. ]-


    ¡­chirped my status bot, as I returned to a defensive stance.


    ¡°-4HP? Is that it?¡± I protested, wiping my own blood from my eyes. ¡°I did worse to the goblin guard when I shattered its nose, and I wasn¡¯t even armed back then.¡±


    The dwarf shrugged and ducked behind my legs, before reminding me: ¡°keep an eye on that bloody rogue, lad. Sneaky kills are his specialty.¡±


    I glanced to the rogue in question, but he was doing little more than standing back and observing the fight. Either he was waiting for the ideal moment to strike, or he considered himself to be redundant in what was already a badly lopsided contest. Neither possibility bode well for me.


    Okay, I thought to myself, trying to think this through in what little breathing space I had. I spawned with 80HP, and this hairy bastard¡¯s as freshly minted as I am. I gained a little XP helping the raid party, but for all I know, the beastling went through something similar, and his body has clearly been built to take more damage than mine. His claws lack the range of a sword, but ah¡­ so does my sword, thanks to that damned shadow stallion. With that in mind, his superior reach almost makes us even. Except he has a rogue for backup, and I have an unarmed, combat-averse dwarf.


    I came to a conclusion, which I promptly shared with my new employer.


    ¡°Samusk, I think we¡¯re in serious trouble here.¡±


    ¡°No shit,¡± replied the dwarf, his gaze fixed firmly on the rogue.


    The beastling put his hand to the paltry cut I¡¯d dealt him, then raised his bloody fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. throughout this odd display, his gaze remained firmly locked on my avatar.


    Creepy bastard, I thought to myself, raising my badly-damaged weapon as I got into a defensive stance.


    Without warning the beastling lashed out again, claws flailing wildly. What he lacked in technique, he more than made up for in ferocity and power. But as I attempted to parry, I suddenly realized that I had one clear advantage in this scenario: the beastling¡¯s inbuilt weapons were deadly, but the hands that wielded them were vulnerable. Unlike a swordfighter who can block with their sword as well as strike, the beastling couldn¡¯t afford to parry, lest I sever his hand off at the wrist. With that in mind, I flailed just as wildly with what remained of my once impressive blade, fending off the ferocious beast¡¯s strikes with a chaotic web of swordplay. He fell back, doing his best to avoid my flailing attack, and eventually, I got lucky¡­Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    -[ You have cut the beastling attacker for -6HP damage. ]-


    The creature howled and flinched backward, grasping its bleeding wrist. I tried to press the advantage, rushing in to bury my blade in the creature¡¯s gut, but stumbled as my attack was cut off by a burning sensation that erupted in my lower torso.


    -[ Projectile stabs you for -14 damage. ]-


    I cried out in pain. Projectile? Looking down at my bloodied tunic, I realized that the smirking bastard of a rogue had thrown his dagger at me, the hilt now protruding from just under my rib-cage. It burned like holy hell, and it was just the opening the beastling had needed. He pounced, throwing the entirety of his weight onto my avatar, knocking me to the ground and clawing wildly at my sword-arm.


    -[ Beastling¡¯s claws cut you for -7HP damage. ]-


    I instinctively released my sword as a searing pain shot through my arm. The beastling capitalized, immediately swiping my weapon away, leaving me cursing my own stupidity for allowing my best hope for survival to slip from my grasp so easily. Then he smirked, drew back his other huge claw, and brought it down hard, opening up my vulnerable chest with a powerful, raking strike.


    -[ Beastling¡¯s claws cut you for -8HP damage. ]-


    As my assailant¡¯s weight pressed down upon me, I realized that this could no longer be classified as a fight. I was being mauled. Bleeding and wracked with pain, I tried to cover up my face with both arms. But my guard was easily broken by another slash of the creature¡¯s claws.


    -[ Beastling¡¯s claws cut you for -7HP damage. ]-


    I quietly cursed the fact that I¡¯d put nothing into my defense stat. Of course, what use was flesh when it came to shielding against claws anyway. Crimson was now soaking into my tattered tunic from my chest and neck, blood trickling into my eyes from the gashes in my face, and a growing number of slash-marks riddled my defenseless body. Had I been able to reach my dagger, I¡¯d have waited for the opportune moment, then jammed the blade deep into the bastard¡¯s muscular neck. But purchasing the ankle strap hadn¡¯t been enough to equip my secondary weapon. I still had to take the items from my inventory before I could use them, and there was no way in hell this thing was giving me time to access my inventory. Then it dawned on me. My purchased weapon wasn¡¯t the only dagger I had access to. Desperate to fight back, I grasped for the assassin¡¯s dagger that was still embedded deep in my flesh. Pulling it out would be risky, but doing nothing was much riskier. My hopes were dashed as the cocky bastard intercepted me, yanking the blade from my body and casually tossing it aside.


    -[ Warning: You are now bleeding from an untreated dagger wound. This injury has a damage over time effect. -5 HP per minute. ]-


    My gamble had failed, and my chances of reaching my healing herbs were non-existent. The beastling responsible smiled, no doubt privy to the same message, being the party responsible for opening the wound. Without words or warning he grabbed my wrists, pinning them to the stone floor with his not inconsiderable weight and strength. Then he leaned in, his tusks mere inches from my face, and mouthed two words that summed up my predicament: ¡®you¡¯re fucked.¡¯


    Dammit, I can¡¯t afford to lose another level. But even if he doesn¡¯t strike me again, I¡¯m trapped. I¡¯m going to bleed out.


    I frantically scanned the chamber for options, my neck being the only limb that was still free to move. The assassin¡¯s blade was close, but the dwarf that I¡¯d hoped might retrieve it for me was not. In fact, he was as far from the fight as his chain would allow. Coward.


    ¡°About time you returned that,¡± scoffed the rogue, casually strolling into my view and pocketing the bloody dagger into his inventory. He was carrying the remains of my sword. ¡°What, this?¡± he asked, following my gaze to the broken blade. ¡°It¡¯s badly damaged, true, but I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll get something for it.¡± Then he walked closer, stopping to crouch by my head, dangling the shattered weapon over my vulnerable head like the sword of Damocles waiting to drop. The beastling laughed, continuing to hold me in place. The bastards were toying with me, while my avatar slowly died. I couldn¡¯t afford a five-year penalty. I needed to get my offense back, and fast.


    One quick insinuation that my assailant got his looks from his mother¡¯s dalliances with the local wildlife later, and my arms were free again. Of course, that was only because he had found a better use for his own appendages. The beastling roared, raining down a brutal succession of more conventional blows upon my stricken face.


    -[ Beastling hits you for -5HP damage. ]-


    -[ Beastling hits you for -5HP damage. ]-


    -[ Beastling hits you for -4HP damage. ]-


    The wild swinging blows were promptly followed by a look of smug satisfaction, as the beastling surveyed his bloody handiwork. I gave thanks for the small fact that I was still conscious. My resilience, like my strength stat, was impressive. For a noob at least. That was probably what was keeping me alive. That and the fact that his own noob-level claws were short, so the cuts weren¡¯t penetrating deep enough to hit anything vital. But the dagger wound would soon take its toll. And the hits were building up. High resistance or not, I couldn¡¯t take much more of this. I¡¯d put next to nothing into unarmed combat, which meant freed arms or not, this still wasn¡¯t a fight. It had gone from a mauling to a medieval mugging.


    Without warning the beastling returned to his previous tactics, as yet another claw trailed across my skin, ripping open my tunic.


    -[ Beastling¡¯s claws cut you for -8HP damage. ]-


    -[ Warning, HP count has fallen below 20% - Current level 14/80 ]-


    There was blood everywhere. And to make matters worse, almost every damned speck of it was mine. I only had one chance. I had to take the bastard by surprise.


    I picked my moment, waiting for him to draw back his claw, leaving his torso unguarded. Then I threw my strength into doubling myself forward, throwing my not-too-shabby strength points into a punch to the gut that winded the bastard.


    -[ You have struck the beastling for -10HP damage. ]-


    Not as impressive as the punch I gave the guard, but it was enough to get the job done. The beastling rolled off me, clutching its stomach, gasping for air. This was my chance.


    The damage over time effect of the stab-wound claimed its first prize, taking me down to 9HP. But I ignored it, calling up my inventory. I finally had the breathing space I needed to access my healing herbs, but I knew I might not get this chance again, and I had to even the odds. So instead, I selected my dagger, clutching it in a downward motion, readying it to bring a violent end my distracted opponent. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, I made to pounce on my winded foe. But was aggressively jolted backwards, a metal choke-wire taking me by the throat and yanking me back to the floor with a thud.


    -[ You are being choked. Secondary DOT effect initiated. 5HP penalty has increased to 10HP per minute for the duration of the attack. ]-


    Two leather-clad legs were firmly wrapped around my torso from behind, and the wire was pressed hard into my neck.


    Dammit. The rogue. And the sneaky fuck is living up to his name. I didn¡¯t even hear him approach.


    The dwarf cowered from what distance his chain would afford, as the rogue attempted to choke what little life I had left out of me. I forced myself back to my feet, an impressive act of strength and willpower, and drove the attacker into the nearest wall. But my new assailant was fresh to the battle, and he held fast.


    Starved of oxygen, status message after status message rang out in my head, but I was beyond the ability to focus on the words they were desperately attempting to relay. Inevitably, my legs gave way. And for the third time since my sentence was passed, the world around me went dark.

 The Raid Party - 5

    Deeper in the dungeon, a battle was being waged on a much larger scale, and the end game had finally begun.


    The shadow stallion threw its full weight into Craynor¡¯s formation, the two shield bearers and their heavily tattooed lead absorbing the brunt of the damage. The line held, and as his muscular companions pushed back, the warlock released a hastily charged spell, raining down shards of sharpened ice upon the beast¡¯s exposed back for 55HP of damage. Kriabal smiled. The magically hardened moisture had successfully pierced the boss¡¯s thick hide, dispensing almost twice the damage achieved by his earlier fire-based attack. Its thirty-second cool-down was better suited to close combat than pyromancy, but it still left him completely reliant on the tanks for protection while he prepared to unleash another volley.


    The creature thrashed its huge head as it roared in pain, shrugging back the tanks and wounding the weakest in the process. But Craynor was much quicker to recover than his level 3 and 4 associates, unleashing a devastating uppercut with his mana-enthused axe. The boss¡¯s head rocked back, exposing its thick black neck. Just as the tank had hoped it would. He followed-up the strike with a mana-enthused sword-thrust to the throat, forcing the entirety of his remaining mana into the arcane weapon. Its multiplier effect paid dividends, allowing the magically-forged steel to penetrate deep into the horrific beast¡¯s flesh. The creature howled and thrashed, but Craynor and the other tanks pressed forward, hacking at the agonized stallion¡¯s nightmarish, spindly legs while the warlock hit it with yet another rain of ice. In total, they¡¯d dealt a whopping -624HP of damage, over a quarter of the enemy¡¯s max HP, and they were only getting started.


    If only Nyx¡¯s sub-party was enjoying the same success. As the beast weathered the frontal assault, it had been lashing its scorpion-like tail uncontrollably, making for an almost impossible target. The limb seemed to be capable of independent thought, its eyes constantly fixing on its attackers before striking. Which meant it could aim, and every strike by the tanks and the warlock only seemed to increase the frenzy of its rear assault. The swiping limb had already knocked BulldogBrit clear off his feet, and had glanced her for -32HP of damage when she¡¯d attempted to drag him to safety.


    Once again, the horrific stinger-laden face swung in her direction. But this time she was prepared. The amazon dodged the thrashing tail with an impressive leap, while SniperJoe simultaneously ducked under, both racing to climb the creature¡¯s legs in the hope of mounting the beasts back and severing the tail at its crux.


    Throughout all this, the apprentice continued to cast heal from a safe distance, firstly restoring the fallen BulldogBrit, then Nyx, before topping up the HP lost by Craynor during his initial shield-less block. Reinvigorated, Craynor broke formation and charged under the beast, trailing his blade across the creature¡¯s underside in an attempt to slit it from neck to tail. When he finally rolled out from underneath, it was at the creature¡¯s rear, joining Nyx and her disillusioned sub-party.


    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± spat the amazon. She had just been unceremoniously swiped from the creature¡¯s leg, costing her another -40HP of her available 605HP, and was not in high spirits. ¡°Get the fuck back into formation.¡±


    ¡°Relax, those guys can take care of themselves,¡± he insisted, blocking a strike from the creature¡¯s tail before adding: ¡°Hey, Joe, what the hell are you doing up there.¡±


    The dwarf-sized barbarian was hanging onto the back of the creature for dear life. He did not look amused by the tank¡¯s question.


    ¡°Trying to cut its bloody tail off, what does it look like?¡± he cried back, driving his sword into the creature¡¯s rump to gain purchase.


    ¡°Leave that to me,¡± replied the barbarian with a smug grin, twirling his blade as he spoke. ¡°This sword doubles my mana strength, I¡¯m sure I have enough left to take care of that thing for you.¡±


    He reached deep down inside himself, pushing the glowing energy into his arcane blade. The movement of pressure was palpable, as sheer force was willed directly into the epic-level artifact. Nyx ordered the unruly buffoon to return to his post, but the command fell on deaf ears, as Craynor leapt forward, deflected the wildly swinging tail with his axe, and followed the move up with an attempt to sever the tail completely. It fell short, but the damage was still impressive, slicing a deep gouge into the flailing extremity for a further -280HP damage.


    ¡°The tail itself is too heavily armored, you dumb prick¡± cried SniperJoe, ¡°aim for the root.¡±


    The amazon cursed under her breath. The tail was thrashing back and forth, giving Craynor an impossibly difficult target, while SniperJoe could do little more than hang on for dear life. Craynor was wasted in this role: it required precision and power, a balance she was much better suited to provide. But the knucklehead was too deeply engaged to pull back, wrestling the tail as he hacked away at it with his axe, ignoring the dwarven barbarian¡¯s advice to aim for the stump. She ordered the revived BulldogBrit to back up his fellow barbarian, then circled around to assist the troops that her braindead tank had so callously abandoned, praying that they were still in one piece. She was just in time to witness one of the overwhelmed tanks howl in pain as his shield-arm was bitten clean off, shield and all.


    Kriabal grimaced. He knew that the apprentice had no chance of stemming the tanks bleeding before the creature made its next move, and that the other tank was in over his head. A distraction was needed, or they were all headed for the shadow stallion¡¯s stomach. He stumbled back, ordering his dominated pet to attack its parent. GlueFactory charged from the apprentice¡¯s side without a moment¡¯s hesitation, biting into the boss¡¯s leg with no regard for its own safety. But the distraction came too late. The boss had already made its second lunge at the screaming tank, its head darting forward with uncanny speed. It clamped its powerful jaws around the defenseless warrior. Its attempts to bite through his upper torso were met with a layer of enchanted armor, but the shadow stallion was not going to be hampered by such trivia. It violently plucked the tank from the ground before attempting to swallow him whole, like a snake attempting to swallow down a rat in its entirety, albeit unsuccessfully.


    The shadow foal continued to maul its former master¡¯s leg, while the warlock unloaded what little mana he had remaining in the form of another shower of ice, but the combined damage was well beneath the boss¡¯s notice. Suddenly, a sickening crunch signaled the weakening of the stricken tank¡¯s armor, his cries confirming that the jagged rows of needle-like teeth had once again found flesh.


    Dammit, cursed Nyx, as she rushed to her party¡¯s aid. The thing gets distracted when it feeds. Craynor should have been standing ready to deliver a critical hit with that epic level artefact of his, that way the poor bastard¡¯s sacrifice would have meant something.


    ¡°I¡¯m out,¡± bellowed Kriabal, adding to the amazon¡¯s growing list of problems.


    ¡°What the hell¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± she bellowed, grabbing his ragged robes and yanking him face-to-face.


    ¡°I mean I¡¯m out of mana,¡± he spat back, pulling himself free of her grasp, with a scowl. ¡°And if considering that I¡¯m the only mage who¡¯s done two shits worth of damage to that thing, you¡¯d better let me recharge.¡± With that, he summoned the shadow foal to his side, mounted it, and retreated to the shadowy corners of the chamber to re-summon his strength.


    With Craynor still occupied by the creature¡¯s tail, one tank halfway down the monstrosity¡¯s throat, and Kriabal benched, the formation was in tatters. All that remained of Craynor¡¯s sub-party was NightWolf, the cigar-smoking level 3 tank who¡¯d drawn her ire earlier. And as she drew closer, Nyx noted that he was barely present at all. The barbarian was just standing there, mesmerized by the sight of his fellow tank¡¯s consumption, cringing with every scream induced from his ally by the game¡¯s alarmingly realistic pain settings.


    She ordered NightWolf to strike the beast while it fed, but he stood there, transfixed. As she got closer, she realized that he was hyperventilating. Weakness like that could not be tolerated. Regardless of how the battle ended, Nyx decreed that this ¡®warrior¡¯s¡¯ time with her party was finished. She¡¯d have him bleed back to level 0 for his cowardice.


    The gun mage remained frozen at the edge of the chamber, as worthless to her as the cowering tank. She ordered the healer to go shake the gun mage out of his daze, then quietly damned Craynor for leaving her in this position.


    What use is a commander without fodder to command? she asked herself. Loathe as she was to play the role of tank, she was going to have to do the damn job herself.


    Pulling up her inventory, she hastily selected a javelin-like spear, its metallic form laden with roughly etched arcane symbols. It was her most powerful item by far, and she didn¡¯t want to use it. Rune infused weapons were hard to come by in the prison, and once the item left her fingertips, there was no guarantee she would get it back, before the bastard she planned to aim it at sent her for a respawn. But they couldn¡¯t afford to lose this lair, so with no other choice she focused her mana, pushing it into the javelin. The metal grew hotter in her hand. Although poor in quality, the weapon could easily have held twice the amount. But charging it took time, and time was now of the essence.


    -[ User: B.A.Barbarious has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 4 ]-


    Just like that the stricken tank was gone, his items beyond salvage. But Nyx hadn¡¯t intended to rescue him. She knew he was a lost cause from the moment the shadow stallion had plucked him from the floor. She was not acting to save her fellow soldier. She was acting to make the most of a stationary target while it fed on her men.


    With all her might she hefted the javelin through the air, her considerable strength adding velocity to what was already a lethal item. With a satisfying crunch the weapon entered the side of the creature¡¯s head, driving beyond the creature¡¯s flesh until it shattered bone, leaving the beast howling in excruciating pain.


    -[ You have struck the shadow stallion for -260HP. ]-


    Nyx cursed the fact she hadn¡¯t charged the item earlier. They¡¯d taken a whopping amount of the creature¡¯s energy thus far, given their limited numbers, but not as much as she¡¯s like. Worse, she would now become the beasts primary target. Again, she ordered NightWolf to attack, attempting to shift the creature¡¯s focus. But he just mumbled something incoherent in response, while striding back and away from the creature. Nyx found herself wishing that she had another javelin, just for him.


    -[ User: SniperJoe has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 3 ]-


    All eyes turned to the boss¡¯s tail, as the barbarian-dwarf¡¯s limp body was raised skyward, like a gruesome trophy, impaled on the end of the creature¡¯s stinger.


    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, this is getting ridiculous,¡± cried the amazon. ¡°Craynor, BulldogBrit, get back up front. We need a new strategy.


    She¡¯d assumed that there would be time to form one. The enemy had made another kill, after all, and she assumed that it would distract itself with SniperJoe¡¯s corpse, just like before. But perhaps it was learning from its mistakes. With a howl, the creature charged her, demanding vengeance for the shard of metal that hung from its face. Now on the back foot, the amazon drew her sword, preparing herself for an impact that she couldn¡¯t hope to block.


    Unexpectedly, the beast was intercepted by Craynor, who came dashing through the creature¡¯s legs, plunging his sword deep into the belly of the beast as he ran. The creature lost its footing and fell, but not before the tank had rolled to safety. Hastily writing itself, the boss turned and began to charge at the powerful tank. Once again it was intercepted, this time by the dual bone axes of BulldogBrit as he darted underneath and sliced across its already weakened chest. Locking onto the new threat it redirected itself again, making to charge for the weaker barbarian. But now it was Nyx¡¯s turn to interject, intercepting the enemy with a spinning overhead chop as it passed her by. The move used the beasts own momentum against it, and had been aimed at finishing what Craynor had begun on the weakened front leg, almost severing the damaged limb at its weakest point.


    Kriabal seized the opportunity and began charging the attack spell that his leader had shortsightedly refused him earlier. Meanwhile, the apprentice continued to work on shattering the debuff that held the gun mage, cursing the arcane gunslinger¡¯s continued paralysis. NightWolf simply stood on the sidelines, mouth hanging open in awe, ¡®guarding¡¯ the healer as he worked.


    The three-pronged attack turned out to be an excellent strategy. When goaded into physical combat, the beast became predictable. Provided the blow dealt was deemed worthy of the boss¡¯s notice, the shadow stallion focused its attention on the dealer, ignoring the others as they positioned themselves to intercept. Again and again, one would serve as bait while another struck, and the third moved into position to repeat the cycle. Before long, the boss was down to one-quarter strength. The plan was foolproof. Right up until the point that it wasn¡¯t.


    With a glancing blow to the creature¡¯s underside, BulldogBrit failed to draw the creature¡¯s attention, and barreled into Craynor, driving him back-first into the chamber wall mere meters from the healer. The blow caused the tank a hefty -300HP worth of damage. For a lesser warrior, this would have been a critical hit, but the tank still had two-thirds of his HP remaining. Craynor struggled to raise himself to his feet, but not even a tank of his caliber could take a blow like that and simply shrug it off. The hulking warrior was stunned and completely unable to defend himself.


    ¡°Grandel,¡± cried Nyx, ¡°forget the damn spell-slinger and start healing Craynor. NightWolf, get the fuck over there and help.¡±


    NightWolf, mere meters from the boss, just stood there and stammered, trying his best to come up with an excuse not to engage the impossible opponent. Seconds later, the beast¡¯s huge jaws clamped down on the party¡¯s main tank for a whopping 250HP of damage, his arcane tattoos glowing as they tried their best to shield him, before buckling in the face of the creature¡¯s inherent magical resistance.


    Nyx winced at the sight before her as she ran to assist. Craynor had taken two critical hits in rapid succession, and he couldn¡¯t sustain much more. She approached the monster from behind, giving thanks for the small mercy that its troublesome tail was still occupied by its trophy, the gruesomely impaled corpse of SniperJoe. Kriabal dispatched his pet to assist, and BulldogBrit was also rushing to help, but neither would make it in time. With a cry, Nyx pushed her entire mana reserve into her blade and unleashed a devastating sword strike, attempting to sever the legs on the boss¡¯s flank, shattering her sword in the process.


    -[ You have struck the shadow stallion for -210HP. ]-


    -[ Warning: Weapon durability has reached zero. ]-


    The blade was completely shattered, but the shadow stallion didn¡¯t fare much better. One leg was completely severed and another hung limp, its tendons barely clanging to the femur.


    Nyx in turn hit the ground hard. Her body was completely spent. Channeling so much mana at once was difficult, especially for a barbarian, and her entire avatar now felt like a muscle worked to fatigue. She knew the consequences of such an act, but the tank was their best hope of survival, and she couldn¡¯t allow him to fall. She only hoped she¡¯d bought the healer enough time to get him back on his feet. BulldogBrit rushed in to drag his leader to safety, while the ominous creature awkwardly turned to face in their direction. They had become its primary focus again. Craynor was still on his back, unable to interfere. And even with the creature hobbled, their odds of outrunning it were slim to none.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Glue factory tried to intercept but was easily plucked from the ground and thrown across the chamber. The boss stared at the twitching body of its unruly child, before returning its attention to the threat that lay before it. Then with a flick of its tail, the barbarian dwarf was sent hurtling skyward, before the creature snapped upward like a dog jumping for treats, swallowing the warrior whole. And that was when Nxy realized just why the creature had been so keen to hold onto SniperJoe¡¯s remains.


    ¡°The bastard has recharging its HP by feeding on us,¡± she gasped, cursing her inability to spot the leap in the creature¡¯s HP sooner. The boss was now back to half-strength, and it looked angry.


    The shadow stallion returned its gaze to the Amazon and her axe-wielding soldier. And then it charged.


    ¡°NightWolf, get the fuck over here and cover us with your shield,¡± demanded Nyx, ¡°or so help me, I¡¯ll find an interesting new place for you to store it. Spoiler alert; it isn¡¯t your fucking inventory.¡±


    The thinly-veiled threat was just what the panicked tank needed to shake him out of his trance. He rushed to join his two companions, raised his shield, and braced himself for impact.


    The beast¡¯s momentum was badly hampered by two missing limbs and a third that was all-but ruined, but the tier 4 boss still packed a punch, lowering its head and ramming the tank, throwing the entirety of its weight against the warrior¡¯s weakly enchanted shield. NightWolf managed to grind the beast to a halt, gaining a defense point in the process, but he lost his footing, most of his shield¡¯s durability, and half of his HP, falling unceremoniously flat on his back. While the apprentice cast heal on the dazed defender, BulldogBrit leapt forward, slashing with his twin axes to hold the attacker at bay, while Nyx just about hauled herself back to her own unsteady feet.


    ¡°Warlock,¡± she cried toward the shadows, ¡°what the hell are you doing back there, stop tugging your fucking staff and join the attack.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m charging something that might fell the bastard,¡± he replied. ¡°I just need a minute or two longer.¡±


    Nyx wasn¡¯t certain that any of them had another minute, let alone two. But she left him to it. There was no sense in ordering the mage to start on a new spell from scratch, only to have him cast a much weaker attack as a result.


    BulldogBrit was bloodied, barely managing to defend himself from the shadow stallion¡¯s snapping jaws, let alone strike his foe. Nyx on the other hand, had regained some stamina but was running dangerously low on weapons. She checked her inventory. Her last hope was her cryo-dagger, but she doubted she¡¯d get close enough to use it. She was about to select it anyway and join the stricken soldier in his worthy death when a war-cry rang out, the familiar taunt of the party¡¯s chief tank. He was charging from the rubble, his body moderately healed by the apprentice, the air thick and distorted with the mana that swirled around his blade. As a tank, Craynor could convert damage into mana. And he¡¯d taken a lot of damage. Nyx held her breath as the taunt took effect, the creature¡¯s resistance weakened by its desire to see the one who had caused it so much pain dead. It spun to meet the challenge. But just as the tank prepared to deliver what he knew would be the killing blow, a crackle of arcane energy tore off his right kneecap, sending him tumbling to the cold stone floor.


    What. The. Fuck, thought Nyx, as all heads turned to the source of the arcane blast. It was the gun mage. He was standing arm outstretched, pistol smoldering with the tell-tale vapors of mana that all but confirmed his guilt.


    -[ User: SpellSlinger69 has quit the party. Magic users remaining under your command: 2 ]-


    The boss pounced, snapping at the tattooed tank who could now do little more than fight the hulking beast from his back, desperately attempting to defend himself against its biting jaws, but with no way to press the attack.


    ¡°Nyx, take cover,¡± screamed Kriabal, gesturing to the gun mage. The traitorous spell-slinger was aiming his weapons squarely at the party¡¯s leader, preparing to sever the head of their troop. Unable to interrupt his own spell, the warlock ordered his battered familiar to its shaky feet, willing it to intercept the gun mage. Powerless to protest, the creature forced itself upright, ignoring the pain that lanced through its broken body. Its master¡¯s command was all, and his will would be done.


    The creature galloped across the chamber toward the gun mage, before suddenly breaking off and launching its teeth at the neck of the party¡¯s healer. The warlock stared in disbelief as his pet began to maul Grandel. Stunned by this occurrence, he was pulled to his senses by an explosion of arcane energy, as hardened mana erupted from a set of arcane pistols, sending magical bullets flying across the chamber with the intention of ending the party¡¯s leader.


    NightWolf got his shield up, but only just. The badly damaged item shattered under the impact as it was struck by a rain of tightly charged mana, injuring the tank¡¯s lower-right arm and further dropping his HP.


    Nyx let out a gasp of relief. It had been a close one, but the useless lug had just about redeemed himself. She turned and addressed BulldogBrit. ¡°You! Get over there and tear that fucking gun mage a new one. Try to use your orc-bone axes for cover. They have magical resistance, so they should negate the turncoat¡¯s bullets.¡±


    The berserker grunted in agreement, raised his huge axes like a makeshift shield, and began to charge his newly appointed opponent.


    Next, she turned to the dazed NightWolf, abruptly snatching his axe from his hand. Reaching into her inventory, she selected the cryo-dagger and pressed the arcane weapon into his empty palm. The tank just stared at her, bewildered.


    ¡°Do you know what this is?¡±


    ¡°A ehhh¡­ cryomancer¡¯s dagger?¡± he replied, nervously.


    ¡°Yes. Enchanted by the same wizard responsible for Craynor¡¯s grenade. But this item doesn¡¯t have a stored charge¡­ it converts mana.¡±


    She pointed toward the boss. It had its back to them, occupied by its attempts to maul Craynor. NightWolf could see where she was going with this, and he didn¡¯t like it. As a tank, he generated his mana chiefly through defense, and stopping the boss in its tracks had fully charged him.


    ¡°You¡¯re the only one of us left who still has a mana reserve worth a damn,¡± she continued, confirming the strategy. ¡°You¡¯re going to redeem yourself by driving this dagger into the boss¡¯s flesh, then pumping every bit of mana you have into the blade. With any luck, you¡¯ll have enough to freeze the bastard. Understood?¡±


    NightWolf completely understood. He¡¯d seen that look in Nyx¡¯s eye before. Typically, before she slit an enemy¡¯s throat and had their spawning point bricked up, leaving them to infinitely respawn into starvation. There was nothing the shadow stallion could do to him that would be worse than his leader scorned.


    ¡°L-let¡¯s see how he likes it, eh?¡± the tank replied, his tone betraying his intended bravado.


    The scorpion-like tail tore into NightWolf¡¯s flesh as he rushed the creature from behind, but he was built for pain and easily shrugged the strike off. A split-second later, Nyx was at his side, engaging the stinger, giving him the opportunity to push forward toward his goal. Finally, he reached the creature¡¯s vulnerable underside. Without hesitation, he thrust the dagger deep into the boss¡¯s flesh, all the way to the hilt. The tail thrashed, but the amazon kept it occupied. As commanded, NightWolf began to charge the blade with mana. It fueled the weapon¡¯s enchantments, cryogenically charging first the blade, and then the beast itself, seizing up the boss¡¯s powerful muscles, slowing its frenzied attacks, until finally, it was frozen in place. Craynor fell to his back, his stamina all but exhausted, his HP now barely more than 100. Then he laughed. The battle was turning.


    Finally, some breathing space, thought Nyx to herself, before bellowing: ¡°Kriabal, what the hell are you playing at. Call your pet off the apprentice before it kills him.¡±


    ¡°Nothing to do with me, boss,¡± shrugged the warlock. His staff was glowing, barely able to contain the power gathering within. ¡°Best guess, the bastard boss learned my dominate spell just by observing it. It¡¯s got its minion back.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not all it¡¯s got,¡± shouted Craynor, hastily pulling his last vial of healing potion from his inventory and pouring it over his ruined knee. The gruesome injury immediately began to regenerate, bone and cartilage knitting together to regenerate that which was brutally shed. ¡°The thing¡¯s controlling SpellSlinger.¡±


    ¡°Nyx suddenly understood why the creature had spent so long fixating first on the warlock, and then on the gun mage. It had learned the dominate skill, that much had been confirmed. But all that time spent staring at her arcane gunslinger must have been an attempt to cast the damn thing. The beast had broken the players will, and taken control of his avatar. That meant for the sake of the mission, he too needed to die.


    ¡°Someone put down that fucking gun mage,¡± she yelled.


    Bulldog Brit endeavored to do just that, having finally maneuvered close enough to the shooter to land a killing blow. He drew back his mighty bone axe, and in doing so, left himself completely open to attack. His brains exited the back of his skull in a blaze of arcane gunfire, a critical hit that easily floored his avatar in a flash of mystical energy.


    -[ User: BulldogBrit has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 2 ]-


    That distraction dealt with, the deadly shot was quickly followed up by yet another, as a ripple of hardened mana flew across the chamber, finding its way into NightWolf¡¯s vulnerable neck. The impact sprayed his huge torso with blood, forcing him to drop to one knee.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare let go of that fucking dagger,¡± bellowed Nyx, unsympathetically. ¡°Grandel, heal him, now!¡±


    ¡°Physician, heal thyself,¡± cackled the gun mage manically, before firing off another round, coldly executing the apprentice with a shot to the temple.


    To the would-be assassin¡¯s surprise, Grandel still stood. Granted, he was swaying, but death had not claimed him, thanks to his own hidden trump card: a resurrection buff. The powerful spell kept him on his feet as his HP slowly began to refill, but he was powerless to act while it worked its literal magic. Seizing the opportunity, GlueFactory delivered a bloody exclamation point, sinking his teeth into the defenseless mage¡¯s throat before ripping it from his avatar for a second critical hit.


    -[ User: Grandel has died. Magic users remaining under your command: 1 ]-


    Nyx cringed. She knew that the spell-slinger had 7 points in accuracy, 6 in mana generation, and a secondary skill in assassination. That made him a one-man critical hit dispenser. She hurriedly surveyed the chamber-turned-battlefield. With the apprentice¡¯s death, the light of the mana-orbs would fade in minutes, and fighting whilst holding a flaming torch would only make things even more difficult for them. But at least Craynor was back on his feet. He was dealing heavy damage to the frozen boss, giving the bastard a taste of its own medicine, and proving just how powerful his arcane blade really was.


    Blow after blow rained down on the motionless beast, as the tank hurried to deal as much damage as possible. She¡¯d never seen a blade with such pure access to a warrior¡¯s mana flow, and she prayed the weapon would get the job done before his fellow tank inevitably lost consciousness from blood loss, ran out of mana, or both. The gun mage began firing on Craynor, whittling the tank¡¯s HP away from a safe distance as he did his best to draw the warrior away from the true target.


    The warlock couldn¡¯t be relied on to interfere: he was multi-tasking, doing his best to regain control of the shadow foal while continuing to charge his attack. Focus split, Kriabal couldn¡¯t quite break the boss¡¯s hold on his former pet. But he was holding it in check, and Nyx could live with that: it freed her up to target the treacherous gun mage.


    The amazon charged him, leaping to pluck her javelin from the shadow stallion as she overtook its ominous frozen mass. The arcane gunslinger charged to meet her, dodging a javelin throw before rolling underneath what should have been a devastating slash of her newly acquired axe. SpellSlinger69 wasn¡¯t the first gun mage she¡¯d battled, and Nyx knew exactly what was coming next. She spun on her heel and took a backhanded heft at the empty space behind her, decapitating the spellcaster as he sprang to his feet to shoot her point-blank in the back of the head.


    -[ You have killed user: SpellSlinger69. XP gained: Armed combat: +30. Accuracy: +30. Mana bonus: 100 mana points. Rep effect: Neutral. This kill was an act of self-defense and carries no penalty. ]-


    -[ Level up! You are now a level 8 amazon berserker. Max HP +50. Max MP +70. You have gained one unallocated base point. ]-


    Nyx looked to the others. Craynor was still slashing away at his defenseless opponent, his impressive stamina refusing to relent. His mana was spent, but he¡¯d still managed to drop the helpless beast to just under a quarter of its overall HP, sheer determination and a quick succession of blows compensating for his drained MP. NightWolf on the other hand, was a different story. The heavily injured tank looked dead on his feet, his avatar pale, his arms trembling as he fought to hold the blade in place, pushing what little mana he had left into the hulking creatures frame. Blood was pouring down the side of his neck as he fought to maintain both consciousness, and the mana flow that was so vital to their plan. He looked like he would collapse any minute. And if he did, the creature would be free.


    She hastily called up her status menu and put the unallocated base point into healing. Then she rushed to aid Nightwolf. She couldn¡¯t risk attempting to transfer the dagger, lest the broken flow of mana give the boss a chance to slip free, so she pressed her hands upon the tanks bloody neck, forcing her own mana into the wound, willing it to close. The new skill was still weak, but at such close range (and the extortionate cost of 137MP) it was enough to slow the bleeding. She prayed it would keep the warrior upright, while they finished off their quarry with what little strength they had left.


    She¡¯d only just joined Craynor in his task when the other shoe dropped.


    ¡°I¡¯m out of mana,¡± cried NightWolf.¡± The announcement was followed by a cry of the more agonized, guttural kind. The creature added its own howls to the chorus, as it slowly raised the tanks corpse into view atop its tail¡¯s deadly stinger.


    -[ User: NightWolf has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 1 ]-


    ¡­rang in Nyx¡¯s head, confirming what was already painfully obvious. He¡¯d wasted her mana healing the cretin when his own mana was all but spent. And worse, the shadow stallion was free.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it eat him,¡± she cried.


    ¡°So we can steal his armor?¡± enquired Craynor, optimistically.


    ¡°So it can¡¯t use him to get its strength back,¡± she replied, with a scowl. ¡°Eating us is how it regains its HP.¡±


    Without warning, a shadowy corner of the chamber flared. It was Kriabal, and he was struggling to maintain a grip on his staff, its gnarled wood glowing with pulses and waves of arcane energy.


    ¡°Get the fuck out of the-¡±


    The sentence went unfinished as the staff exploded into splinters, unable to contain the overclocked spell held within. Cobalt energy shot across the chamber, casting a hazy blue sheen between summoner and target. It hung overhead like the sinister corpse of a rainbow, before beginning to crackle with arcane energy. Nyx and Craynor had no idea what was happening, but they knew danger when they saw it, running for cover as huge shards of ice began to form above their heads. Crystal shards the size of the average rogue began raining down on the confused boss, its neck taking a heavy blow, driving it to the floor with a hardy crack. Nyx could only watch in amazement as the rain of ice fell, often shattering against the stone floor, but catching the beast with increasing frequency.


    The warlock smiled as he watched his handiwork. Attacking the beast directly with magic was futile, the spells ran off it like water off a particularly frightening duck¡¯s back. But using magic to craft weapons had been his loophole. The summoned shards of ice were merely formed by magic, then simply released like projectile weapons, allowing gravity and their sharply-pointed weight to do the rest. The creature had no resistance against the onslaught. Besieged, it fell to its side a bloody mess, howling in agony.


    It wasn¡¯t the only bloody mess. NightWolf¡¯s corpse was pounded to red mush, his remains trapped under a particularly heavy shard that now pinned the boss¡¯s tail. Spell subsiding, the creature attempted to raise itself up, but quickly fell. It had been reduced to a broken, shambling mess.


    What followed was a seemingly endless barrage of hacks and slashes as the amazon and the barbarian attacked its broken body, slicing away the last remnants of the once impressive beast¡¯s HP. Their mana was spent, but it didn¡¯t matter: the creature¡¯s death was little more than a formality. No longer focusing his attention on the ice spell, Kriabal easily reaffirmed his control over GlueFactory, and the beast joined the one-sided fight, tearing bloody chunks out of its parent with its teeth. Even Kriabal himself joined the physical assault, repeatedly kicking at the beast in an attempt to grind his unarmed combat stat. He desperately hoped that luck would grant him the killing blow, and the extra bonus that came with it.


    This continued until the creature breathed no more, with a lucky Craynor landing the killing blow, much to Kriabal¡¯s chagrin.


    -[ Announcement: Congratulations, you have defeated a tier 4 boss. You have claimed the Lair of the Shadow Stallion. Rewards will be allocated individually, based on player contribution. Please check your status window for updates. Note: Contractors are not true members of the party and have been penalized -50% XP. ]-


    Kriabal cursed his status as a lowly contractor. ¡°-50%? That¡¯s bullshit. We¡¯d all be dead if it wasn¡¯t for me.¡±


    Craynor, ever the antagonist, took this as his cue to brag about his various bonuses and rewards. He¡¯d gained two whole levels, more than anyone else in the party.


    After the players finished checking and allocating their new stats, the boss¡¯s corpse was promptly looted. Nyx claimed a new sword with an inbuilt flame buff, Craynor a helmet that increased his resistance to magical attack, and Kriabal gained a new, vastly superior staff. Even GlueFactory received a reward, a potion that could be used to permanently boost the pet¡¯s intelligence. This was no coincidence. As the last four standing after such a high-level kill, the system was obliged to reward them with items befitting their individual nature.


    A few moments later, the apprentice¡¯s mana-orbs finally flickered and died. Kriabal generated a flame to light their more traditional torches, and the exhausted warriors sprawled out next a few meters from the corpse of their aggressor, their stamina all but spent.


    ¡°That fucking Dungeon Warden had better appreciate this,¡± growled Nyx, pulling a battered pack of cigarettes from her inventory. She offered the contraband to the party¡¯s tank, who simply waved her off.


    ¡°Fuck the Dungeon Warden,¡± he spat in reply. ¡°Whatever noob ends up living down here better appreciate what we just went through to save them from bunking three to a cell.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of noob¡¯s,¡± she continued, ¡°what the hell was with that swords-noob who just suddenly appeared out of nowhere?¡±


    ¡°The shield should drop any moment,¡± replied Kriabal, feeding a piece of the shadow stallion to his new pet as he spoke. ¡°G¡¯rrak spoke to him. Maybe he¡¯ll have some answers for us.¡±


    ¡°And if he doesn¡¯t?¡± asked Craynor, as he stared lovingly at his new arcane blade and helmet.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll just have to track the noob down and kick the answers out of him,¡± replied their leader, with a smile.

 Chapter 7.1

    When I re-awoke, it was within the confines of a small dungeon cell. A floating ball of energy hovered overhead, like the magical equivalent of an electric light fitting, flickering as it cast a luminous blue haze against the walls. I felt disorientated, and the erratic flight path of the magical orb wasn¡¯t exactly helping. But to my relief, an internal status message was telling me that I was now in what it deemed to be a ¡®safe¡¯ zone.


    My back was cold, but that was understandable. There wasn¡¯t much between it and the rough granite floor it was currently pressed upon. My tunic had been slashed to ribbons by the beastling¡¯s frenzied attack, but I wished that was my biggest concern. My mauled flesh ached, and my head was pounding like the player responsible was doing a victory dance on the inside of my battered skull.


    I watched the hypnotic ball of energy as it danced and swirled overhead until, without warning, my view of the strange phenomenon was blocked by an eclipse. It was unusually dwarf-shaped.


    ¡°Finally,¡± announced the cause, leaning in a little closer. ¡°It¡¯s about bloody time you decided to wake up.¡±


    Standing over me, was my new employer. And he looked visibly upset.


    ¡°Respawned again already?¡± I groaned, bemoaning my rather unimpressive start to my new life as a prisoner. ¡°Fuck, that¡¯s got to be a record. I¡¯ve only been uploaded five bloody minutes.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be impatient, lad,¡± replied the dwarf as he offered me his small, stubby hand. ¡°You have to die before you can respawn. I would have thought that much was self-explanatory, even for a noob like yerself.¡±


    The dwarf took me roughly by the arm and pulled. He had no hope of dragging me up to my feet. He didn¡¯t have the necessary height, for a start. But he got me sitting upright if nothing else. I winced as pain signals shot through my battered torso.


    ¡°They¡­ didn¡¯t kill me?¡± I asked, startled by the revelation that I hadn¡¯t actually died twice.


    The dwarf shook his head, giving me a frustrated stare that suggested I was probably a bit slow on the uptake. I quickly checked my HP, which confirmed that I still had 38 HP remaining out of the 80 HP I spawned into the dungeon with. That didn¡¯t add up, either. The status messages had been little more than a blur of information before I finally slipped into unconsciousness, but I was certain that they¡¯d been throwing around slightly concerning words like ¡®severe¡¯ and ¡®critical¡¯ toward the end. I was feeling surprisingly healthy, all things considered.


    ¡°They beat you within an inch of your HP bar,¡± confirmed the dwarf, as if reading my mind. ¡°So no, ye weren¡¯t iced, unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I gasped, his callous disregard for my wellbeing shocking me. ¡°I protected you. Or, you know, I tried to, and that¡¯s got to count for something, right? Why the hell would you say something so cold as that?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Cos I was the poor sod who had to haul your unconscious ass all the way back to our personal data¡¯s lovely new storage facility, that¡¯s why. The fuckin¡¯ NPC guards just stood back an¡¯ watched, as if anythin¡¯ beyond crackin¡¯ heads is too complex for their puny AI. They stopped the bleedin¡¯, but little else. Truth be told, they¡¯d have done me a bloody favor if they¡¯d let you bleed out back at the spawnin¡¯ point. That way, you would have respawned wiv yer HP fully restored. Then you could have carried yer own sorry ass back here.¡±


    ¡°You carried me back?¡± I gasped, regarding his squat, weak looking frame as I spoke. For a race that was supposedly stronger than the average human, this example of the species looked remarkably scrawny.


    ¡°Oh, all right then, not so much carried, as dragged,¡± He admitted. ¡°But if any of those bastard NPCs try to suggest that I kicked you down the stairs deliberately, you know, to finish you off so I could get outta draggin¡¯ ye back, don¡¯t you listen. They¡¯re a dirty filthy liar¡¯s, the lot of ¡®em. You just slipped outta me grasp, was all.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if I believed him. Either way, he clearly hadn¡¯t been briefed on the level-lock that came with zeroing out. Why else would he be so heavy handed with my stricken avatar?


    ¡°Well, your concern for my health is heartwarming¡± I replied, with more than a hint of sarcasm, before adding: ¡°Thanks for the save. I guess we¡¯re even.¡±


    ¡°No problem. Thankfully, yer health seems to replenish itself pretty quickly when yer unconscious.¡±


    Well, that answered my next question. I looked down at my battered avatar.


    ¡°Aww crap, that overgrown mutt cut my outfit to ribbons. Doesn¡¯t it, I dunno, regenerate or something?¡±


    ¡°¡¯Fraid not, lad. An¡¯ there¡¯s not a lot o¡¯ fashion boutiques down here, neither. Not fer items of the non-metallic variety, at any rate. So unless you have a seamstress skill hidden away in yer sub-routines, nothin¡¯ short of a full respawn is gonna patch up that bloody mess.¡±


    I sighed and tore away what remained of the upper half of my swordsman outfit. It was an action that I instantly regretted. My body was in an equally horrific state. Given the choice, I¡¯d rather have been looking at shredded clothing, than shredded me.


    Crap!


    Partially to distract me from the mess the beastling had made of my new body, but mainly to ensure that I hadn¡¯t missed anything important while I was, you know, unconscious, I dove into my status menu. As expected, it was a play by play of my epic ass-kicking. An aide-m¨¦moire I could do without, admittedly: my wounds were reminder enough. I skimmed through the numerous confirmations of my new career as a punching bag, until something interesting caught my eye.


    Rep: -19/30


    I smiled as I studied my rep stat. Leaping to the dwarf¡¯s defense had been profitable after all. But hang on, that didn¡¯t add up. The rep points I¡¯d gained for both completing the raid party¡¯s quest and jumping to the dwarf¡¯s defense had been neutralized by my blatant act of thievery and my (admittedly stupid) assault on the NPC guards. How had I crept ahead by one point? I dove back into my status menu, searching for the answer.


    That was when I noticed something truly shocking. I was still listed as a ¡®contractor¡¯ to the group of frozen warriors, and apparently my ¡®party¡¯ had been successful.


    ¡°Holy shit! They actually killed the bastard. And I gained a fucking level.¡±

 Chapter 7.2

    The dwarf looked at me in confusion as he queried my statement, but I didn¡¯t have the strength to even begin explaining. So instead, I waved him off, burying my head in my status screen, like a child refusing to be pulled away from his fancy new toy.


    Now that was interesting. Evidently, I could generate XP through my actions, leveling up my individual skills. Each of my shadow foal encounters had granted me ¡®experience points¡¯ chiefly in swordsmanship, armed combat, and (thanks to my uncanny knack for survival) luck. I had even received a boost to my resilience XP for coming back from death¡¯s door, before my luck had (inevitably) run out. Not too shabby, and that wasn¡¯t even the end of it. I¡¯d gained a rep point and a huge boost to my primary skill when the party finally felled the boss, despite my being unconscious and in a completely different location by that point. I hadn¡¯t quite reached the next level in swordsmanship by that stage, likely due to the -50% XP penalty I earned as a lowly ¡®contractor¡¯, but the free XP was more than welcome.


    I kept going, wading through the more recent status messages, searching for the act responsible for leveling me up until¡­


    -[ You have survived an encounter against superior odds. XP gained: Swordsmanship: 15. Armed combat: 15. Resilience: 60. Unarmed combat: 15. This action has gained you one extra resilience point. XP until next Swordsman level: 98. XP until next resilience level: 90. ]-


    Bingo. Surviving a two-on-one beating at the hands of the rogue and the beastling had taken me to the next swordsman and resilience levels. Perhaps, I realized, the mauling I¡¯d received had been worth it. Along with the base points I¡¯d been able to allocate before entering, that brought my current resilience level to 4. And extra resilience could only come in handy if the various welcoming committees I¡¯d encountered so far were to be of any indication. I was turning out to be a pretty tough bastard. Not that I currently felt like one.


    ¡°My paltry amount of offence in the latter skirmish pushed me past the finish line to become a level 2 swordsman,¡± I advised the dwarf, beaming from ear to ear. ¡°In a way, the would-be muggers actually did me a favor.¡±


    Hmmm. Why is he scowling at me, I wondered? The next message jogged my foggy memory.


    -[ Quest failed: You have been unsuccessful in your attempts to protect Samusk the dwarf. Due to its ongoing nature, the quest shall continue. Warning: Continued failure may lead to reputation loss. ]-


    ¡°What happened after I lost consciousness,¡± I asked. ¡°Those two had me at their mercy. Why didn¡¯t they just finish me off?¡±


    ¡°My best guess? It was because the pair of ¡®em are as new to this as we are,¡± replied the dwarf, with a shrug. ¡°Probably too afraid to kill another prisoner, at least until they¡¯ve worked out if the penalties for murder are too steep to come back from. Spoiler alert, they aren¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Seriously? You¡¯re telling me that murdering other prisoners is acceptable in Atone Online?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± he replied. But yeh have to admit, offing you wouldn¡¯t exactly have been the end of the world now, would it?¡±


    ¡°Oi!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be sensitive, lad. I¡¯m bein¡¯ serious. Killin¡¯ a criminal with a minus twenty rep is hardly the worst act one of us could commit, is it? Hell, in most games, heroes kill bastards like us willy-nilly to increase their rep.¡±


    Although I loathed to admit it, what the dwarf was saying did make sense. I was the bad guy, just like everyone else down here.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t seem that concerned about rep penalties,¡± I pointed out, ¡°if their first instinct was to rob the noob dwarf of his life savings, after kicking the living pixels out of his protector.¡± I prodded my tender face as I spoke to make a point.


    ¡°Ah, but you must have noticed what their avatars had in common, right? Underworld class, the pair of ¡®em. Those boys are tryin¡¯ to walk the fine line between ¡®redeemable¡¯ and ¡®scumbag¡¯.


    ¡°Seems to me that their instincts lean more to the ¡®scum¡¯ demographic.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. They¡¯re probably prepared to take whatever shortcuts they deem necessary to get ahead of the pack in the early stages, while at their weakest and most vulnerable. And that means taking the rep hit that goes with robbing other players. But they were savvy enough not to choose fallen class. They want to get outta here, eventually. Why would they risk that wasting the unconscious noob?¡±


    I gave thanks that they hadn¡¯t taken the risk, timidly pulling myself up and onto my bunk, blocking out the pain that was induced by every tiny movement. It seemed reasonable to assume that the dwarf would prefer the bottom bunk, but right at this moment, so would I. Everything ached from the effort. Eventually reaching my meagre goal, I sat my avatar on the edge of the bed with my legs dangling over the side. The bed covers felt like sandpaper to the touch, but I¡¯d endured much worse, so far. Then I called up my inventory. And that was when I recieved yet another shock.


    ¡°Aww crap!¡± I announced.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong now?¡± groaned the dwarf, no doubt tiring of his new cellmate¡¯s various complaints.


    ¡°My bundle of healing herbs. It¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°Heh, I gotta hand it to that rogue,¡± replied the dwarf. ¡°The lad¡¯s thievery skill must be levellin¡¯ up nicely. Don¡¯t worry fella, you¡¯ll still heal. Just slowly, is all.¡±


    I suddenly felt a cold panic wash over me, and hastily called up my weapons submenu. It was empty.


    ¡°Oh fuck no, my sword is gone too,¡± I moaned.


    ¡°As I say, the rogues a natural. Don¡¯t worry lad, the thing was broken anyway¡­¡±


    ¡°But without a sword, how can I continue to level up my swordsmanship?¡± I considered my own question for a moment, then added:  ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I could get a little advance on my salary and somehow buy one, could I? It would be in your best interest, given that I need a sword to defend you.¡±


    The dwarf rolled his eyes, then said: ¡°How many blows to the head did you take exactly, lad?¡±


    I suddenly realized how stupid the question had been. ¡°Shit! They got all of your gold too, didn¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Yep, ¡®fraid so, every last coin. Not that they needed a thievery skill to get into my inventory, mind. A few threats from the beastling was all it took. Alas, my bodyguard was too busy bleedin¡¯ all over the place to intervene.¡±


    ¡°How inconsiderate of him. But you seem oddly chipper, considering.¡±


    ¡°Relax, lad. That 500 gold was just a drop in the ocean.¡±


    ¡°A drop in the ocean? I thought you said it was your life savings?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so bloody na?ve. I just spun them that life-savings bull-shit so that they wouldn¡¯t come to think of me as a fuckin¡¯ ATM they can just raid on a regular basis.¡±


    ¡°So you have more gold, then?¡±


    ¡°Not yet, no. But by midnight tonight, my commissary account¡¯s daily limit will have reset. It can only accept one payment per day, but the next one will be for five times that amount.¡±


    I stared at him, stunned.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right. There¡¯s plenty more where that cash came from. More than enough to make taking the odd beating on my behalf worthwhile for you, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll agree?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, except what use am I to you now? I lost my damn sword, remember?¡±


    Hint hint.


    ¡°Pffft. A minor setback. Stick with me kid. We¡¯ll find you a new sword, and more besides.¡±


    I wished I shared the dwarf¡¯s confidence. Overwhelmed, I lay back and tried to process everything that had happened to me thus far. Try as I might, I couldn¡¯t make it add up. So I decided to risk aggravating my new boss with another question.


    ¡°This is supposed to be a fucking jail. Why the hell do they even allow us to have weapons in the first place?¡±


    ¡°Because we have to earn our keep, that¡¯s why.¡±


    ¡°Earn our keep? How?¡±


    ¡°Clearin¡¯ out the monsters in the unexplored regions of the dungeon. The jail is constantly expandin¡¯ due to the number of ah¡­ morally challenged individuals arrivin¡¯ here on a daily basis. That means there is a constant need to clear out more space to store the bastards in. The game map is theoretically infinite, but the dungeon¡¯s previous tenants are quite fond of the taste of our meaty avatars, and are apparently reluctant to move on without a little push. The guards have enough to do keepin¡¯ us in line, so it¡¯s the prisoners who¡¯ll be headin¡¯ out to conquer the unexplored wings, all to make them fit for the next batch of noobs to move into.¡±


    Well, that explained the raid party, then. I¡¯d spawned right into the middle of an attempt to clear one such dungeon. Then I recalled the very first status message on my arrival by the spawning pyre. 12% chance of being attacked by monsters. It had been casually announced like a particularly inconsequential weather forecast. The boss had not been an anomaly like I¡¯d first hoped. We were sharing the dungeons with more undesirables than I ever could have imagined. And these ones didn¡¯t have to play by the rules. Wonderful.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Hang on, if the monster territories are attached to this dungeon, Isn¡¯t that dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s bloody dangerous,¡± spat the dwarf, his patience with my questions wearing thin. ¡°This wasn¡¯t always a prison, yeh know. Atone Online was built on the carcass of one of the first fully immersive gamin¡¯ systems. They picked it because of its heavy reliance on the ¡®rep¡¯ stat, but purgin¡¯ all the old elements would have meant buildin¡¯ a world from scratch, so they just tweaked a little code here an¡¯ there, built the prison right on top of the dungeon. That has its perks fer us players, though. The monsters still drop items, just like they did back in the early days. And any artefacts or gold we find, we¡¯re free to keep for ourselves.¡±


    It occurred to me that I¡¯d accepted the dwarf¡¯s offer of employment without establishing the answer to one very important question.


    ¡°What use is the gold anyway? It¡¯s not like it¡¯s real.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s as real as you or I can claim to be, lad. Find some, and you can spend it in their prison armory, buy better weapons, level up until you¡¯re fit for the front line where the bigger rewards lie. Sure, there are other uses for it... better food, prostitutes, you can even upgrade your accommodation if you grease the palm of the right NPC¡­ but wise players invest it all in their future.


    ¡°Like buying their wonderful bodyguard a shiny new sword, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°Yer bein¡¯ too subtle, I don¡¯t think I got the hint,¡± he replied, gruffly, before adding: ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m investin¡¯ in you, and I intend to get my money¡¯s worth. I¡¯ll pay for the sword. I can¡¯t promise much, mind. The items they sell down here aren¡¯t up to much. And if I overspend, I¡¯ll draw the wrong kind of attention. If that happens, I¡¯m back to playin¡¯ the part of a small hairy cash machine while our fellow inmates use your impressive resistance as a training dummy to grind their XP on.¡±


    ¡°Your confidence in my bodyguard skills is much appreciated, thank-you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re strong and resilient, I¡¯ll give you that much. The amount of HP you took from that beastling with one punch was pretty impressive for a redemption class player. Shame it was the only punch you landed, eh?¡±


    ¡°Fuck you!¡± I replied, albeit with a smile. The dwarf was busting my balls, but I didn¡¯t sense that he was seriously trying to offend me.


    ¡°Seriously though, that¡¯s the only benefit you got from your shitty point distribution. I mean, zero charisma and zero perception? What the hell were you thinking.¡±


    ¡°I figured I was likeable and observant enough, already.¡±


    ¡°Hells bells lad, that¡¯s not how it works. Perception is the ability to read another player stats at a glance. Even the beastling had two points, enough to let him see yer name and HP. I¡¯m Samusk, by the way, since yeh can¡¯t even see that much¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I saw your name on your ¡®quest.¡¯  My name is Shade¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. I can bloody read it above your head, remember?¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re at least level 2, then. But you were reading our assailants stats, back in the fight. What level is that, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Information¡¯s a commodity here, lad, same as anything else. Yeh want to know more about me, yeh have to earn my trust. For now, trust me when I say that you¡¯ve royally screwed yourself.¡±


    ¡°Who are you to talk to me about bad choices?¡± I retaliated. ¡°I mean, a dwarf? Seriously?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t criticize a fella fer tryin¡¯ to show a little individuality, surely? Yeh probably haven¡¯t noticed yet, on account of bein¡¯ unconscious fer the majority of yer stay, but dwarves are rare, here. If yeh saw the number of orc-holes, wand-wavers and sword-jockeys there are running around this joint already-¡±


    ¡°Whoa, hold on, didn¡¯t you ever stop to consider that there¡¯s probably a good reason why no one picks the dwarves?¡±


    ¡°Is the blind, uncharismatic noob going to enlighten me as to why that is, then?¡±


    ¡°This is a prison. The population is over ninety percent male. And with a shortage of female options, an inmate of your height could have certain¡­ ah¡­ uses.¡±


    ¡°Are we talking doing the laundry, here?¡± replied the dwarf. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ve used all my points up on perception, so I have nothing left to allocate to the homemaker skill. Yer just goin¡¯ to have to wash yer own drawers.¡±


    ¡°You know damn well what I¡¯m talking about.¡±


    ¡°Pffft. You¡¯ve watched too many movies, lad.¡±


    ¡°Well when some sexually frustrated barbarian offers to help you develop your sword swallowing skill, don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡±


    ¡°Yer concern is duly noted,¡± he replied, adding a mock bow to my wisdom.


    ¡°And why are you so calm? I don¡¯t need a perception skill to know that¡¯s a worker avatar, not a fighter. The rogue said you have zero combat skills and no weaponry of your own? Why is that?¡±


    He tapped his forehead. ¡°Like I said earlier, yeh have to earn my trust to hear my secrets. Fer now, let me just say that every choice I¡¯ve made, I¡¯ve made for a reason. I knew this day was comin¡¯. Planned fer it. Most save the strategy for their arrival, but I¡¯ve been preppin¡¯ fer this eventuality fer years.¡±


    ¡°You really do know a lot about this place, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°As I said earlier, I like to plan ahead.¡±


    Samusk was wise to this place. Too wise. And that made me nervous. No one from the outside world had any idea exactly what went on in the atonement server: it was run completely by AI, and near as I could tell, the company responsible was more than happy to turn a blind eye to our existence the moment we were uploaded. With that in mind, how the hell did he prepare for it? There was no one to ask for advice. No forum to check for tips. As a noob, he should be as in the dark as I am.


    Of course, that wasn¡¯t the only thing about the dwarf that was making me feel uneasy. There was also the fact that his commissary account was being filled willy-nilly by parties unknown. Whoever he was in his old life, he must have had access to huge resources IRL. That made him a criminal with power, possibly a high-ranking member of an illegal organization. Not that I would dare ask him. I didn¡¯t learn much about this place in advance, but bringing up another player¡¯s past was a definite no-no. Especially now that those crimes were little more than a number. What, I wondered, was his. Was I working for a monster, a mass murderer with a -100 rep? It didn¡¯t even bear thinking about.


    My last concern was his meager avatar. To arrive as a worker was frankly, bizarre. That shitty role wasn¡¯t even one of my options when I chose my skillset. Either he¡¯d taken a diversion much like my own (and been leveled down to zero by some mob for his troubles) or he must have done something really bad IRL to be penalized by the judge so badly upon entry.


    Again, I reminded myself that the rep stat was supposed to be all that mattered now, not the life that led to it. He was here to heal his soul and leave his old sins behind, just like I was. So, with that in mind, I asked the closest question to ¡®so, what are you in for¡¯ that I was permitted.


    ¡°What is your rep score, exactly?¡±


    ¡°None of your damn business,¡± he snapped back. ¡°You¡¯ll find out when you¡¯ve levelled up enough to see it for yourself.¡±


    I made a mental note to do just that.


    Damn. He¡¯s taking advantage of my shitty perception to keep me in the dark. I really don¡¯t know if I can trust this guy.


    The dwarf was growing more and more agitated by my barrage of questions, so I returned to my trail of unread status messages. One confirmed that my HP loss was indeed stemmed by the guards after the two-on-one assault I received, allowing me to slowly recover naturally from there. But then another anomaly caught my eye.


    Hang on a minute. How the hell did I lose more HP after the fight had already ended?


    I called up more detail. The next message confirmed that I¡¯d been pushed down a flight of stairs by a dwarf.


    The lying little bastard, I thought to myself. If my resilience stat hadn¡¯t leveled up beforehand, I¡¯d probably have died and hit level zero. All so that he could get out of having to carry me back. Now I really don¡¯t trust him.


    I glared at the bastard in question from atop my bunk. He winked back, oblivious to my discovery. I was just about to give him a piece of my mind, when I spotted an update about the piece of my mind that was missing. Apparently, the attempt to rebuild my lost memory files had now reached 20%. This cheered me right up. I couldn¡¯t imagine that getting repeatedly punched in the face by the beastling did much to help that endeavor, but it was good to see that the system was at least attempting to regain my lost memories.


    Relieved to learn that my mind was healing itself, and deciding that I needed the dwarf too much (at this stage) to start another argument, I leapt from my bunk to give my physical container a quick check over in the mirror. Standing there stripped to the waist, I looked more like the dungeon¡¯s scrawniest barbarian than the generic noob swordsman I was supposed to be. My torso was covered in bloody scratches and bruises. My lip was split, my eye was bruised and swollen, and I had three parallel claw marks etched across my face.


    Oh well, I still have all of my teeth, so at least I have an excuse to keep smiling.


    Having thoroughly examined my banged-up exterior, I opened my updated stat sheet for a look at my interior attributes.


    USERNAME: SHADE


    PRIMARY SKILL: SWORDSMAN ¨C LEVEL 2


    PERCENTAGE REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 98%


    Rep: -19/30


    HP: 39/80


    Mana: 0/40


    Alliances: Bodyguard of Samusk (Dwarf, independent)


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 3 (Cap 5)


    Agility: 1 (Cap 4)


    Speed: 3 (Cap 4)


    Stamina: 3 (Cap 5)


    Resilience: 4 (Cap 4)


    Accuracy: 1 (Cap 5)


    Defence: 1 (Cap 5)


    Armed combat: 3 (Cap 6)


    Unarmed combat: 0 (Cap 3)


    Carrying capacity: 1 (Cap 2)


    INTANGIBLE STATS -


    Magical attack: 0 (Cap 1)


    Perception: 0 (Cap 4)


    Charisma: 0 (Cap 2)


    Disguise: 0 (Cap 1)


    Luck: 0 (Cap 2)


    Healing: 0 (Cap 0)


    Mana generation: 1 (Cap 3)


    Leadership: 0 (Cap 2)


    Homemaking: 0 (Cap 2)


    OUTSTANDING QUESTS ¨C Protect the dwarf (ongoing)


    So, the cap on a few of my skills was raised by my level-up. And not a moment too soon, by the look of my resilience stat. But where did ¡®mana generation¡¯ come from? I clicked on it and promptly found the answer.


    -[ Mana generation: the ability to wield the primordial lifeforce of Atone Online. Can be used to fuel special attacks, spells, and stamina. Automatically unlocked upon reaching level 2 in any primary discipline. ]-


    Not bad for a noob, I told myself, trying my best to look on the bright side of my near-death experience. That small moment of calm was quickly interrupted, as a bell rang out through the dungeon. Just as suddenly, our cell door glitched, then vanished.


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± I cried. ¡°A breakout? Are monsters invading the dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Even better,¡± replied the dwarf with a beaming smile. ¡°That¡¯ll be lunch.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry, I replied, pulling myself back onto my bunk.


    ¡°And I don¡¯t care,¡± replied Samusk, his voice growing sterner. ¡°The canteen is one of the few places where all of the prisoners gather, regardless of gang affiliation. Well, with the exception of the fallen class, but that¡¯s only because they¡¯re more likely to eat the other players than the slop we¡¯ll be havin¡¯.¡±


    I swallowed hard, remembering the demon guard¡¯s less than subtle suggestion that we were all meat.


    ¡°Before we go, I¡¯d recommend that ye bind yer avatar to yer bunk.¡±


    ¡°Bind my avatar?


    ¡°Yer respawn point, lad. Somethin¡¯ you¡¯ll be needin¡¯ again soon enough, if yeh keep up yer current performance.¡±


    ¡°Why would I want to make this my bind point?¡± I protested. ¡°That¡¯ll just mean that if I die, I¡¯ll respawn behind bars. Why would I choose that?¡±


    ¡°Think, lad. If yeh respawn, yer frozen for a good minute while your senses re-sync to your avatar. That means yer vulnerable. Inmates use that sort of thing to their advantage. They take note of other inmates respawn points and lie in wait to rob them, or to finish the job. Trust me, if you die, you don¡¯t want to respawn in a public spot where yer enemies could be waitin¡¯ for another go. Our cell is the closest thing we have to a safe zone, lad.¡±


    And again, he reminded me that whether or not I trusted him, I probably needed him. For now, at least.


    ¡°Fine. How do I do it?¡±


    ¡°Just announce it. Yeh don¡¯t have to write a bloody poem. The dungeon AI will take care of the rest.¡±


    I placed my hand on the bed.


    ¡°Um, this is my respawn point?¡±


    It was more of a question than a statement, but it seemed to work.


    -[ System message. You have bound your avatar to cell 903746. This will be your respawn point until you choose to reset it. ]-


    Well, that was easy. I basked in the small satisfaction of having finally done something right for a change.


    ¡°Time¡¯s a-wastin¡¯, lad. This is our perfect opportunity to make some important connections.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to¡­ network?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And the bastards I¡¯m interested in talking to? Trust me, a bodyguard¡¯s going to be essential.¡±

 The Dungeon Warden - 2

    The Dungeon Warden did not find himself with much cause to smile these days. But when G¡¯rrak relayed word that the unexplored corner of his dungeon had been recaptured from the monstrosity that had once controlled it, he was overjoyed.


    He nervously reached out using the core, itching to confirm that the huge chamber was now within his field of vision¡­ and yes, the stony cavern had indeed been added to his god-like reach. He could smell the rotting corpse of the huge, dead thing that had once had the audacity to make the lair its own. He could taste the human blood that now stained the chamber floor, and the haze of spent mana that hung in the air after a spell of impressive magnitude. Admittedly, he let his mind brush against the amazons sweating avatar for a moment longer than had been necessary. Who could judge him for that small pleasure? The dungeon and all that was contained within were his to do with as he pleased, after all.


    The dungeon core pulsed with excitement, and the warden shared its longing. How he ached to reach out, to use the core¡¯s god-like power to terraform this new zone. It was ripe for development, and none were better qualified than he, but there were just too many factors to stay his hand. The economy, for one. The victors had to be allowed their spoils¡­ to be given a reason to fight beyond the one that they were supposed to be fighting for, lest they lose their motivation to venture deeper into the dungeon. Likewise, the new inductees had to be made to feel useful and given a chance to earn. That meant giving them the opportunity to extend their home with their own hands, even if their building skills were substandard, at best.


    And then there was morale to be considered. The barbarians had claimed the lair, yes. But it was the arcane clans who were most in need of space to expand. To gift their prize to a rival class would be to invite war. And a prison-riot between the two most powerful factions of humans was a headache the warden didn¡¯t need. He resigned himself to his usual strategy: he would allow the barbarians to organize the lair¡¯s conversion into a new wing of the prison, then purchase it from them with the gold they valued above all else.


    His initial excitement extinguished now by the mediocrity of his role, the Dungeon Warden¡¯s thoughts returned to the other quandary the lair had brought to his desk.


    ¡°How the fuck did a new spawn appear in a boss chamber?¡± he hissed. ¡°And a newly discovered chamber at that?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    No answer came, for his office was empty, save for the pulsing ball of energy that hovered in the corner of the room. As he often did in such circumstances, he cast an accusing finger, choosing to blame it.


    ¡°Core, this must be your fault,¡± he spat accusingly. ¡°What use are you to me if you can¡¯t even send the new prisoners to their proper spawning points without fucking it up.¡±


    The pulsing ball of energy ignored his rants, just as it always did. It was used to its role as a scapegoat and cared little for his accusations.


    The warden scowled. ¡°I swear, you¡¯re determined to help me fully experience my inferior meat-bag avatar by giving me a damn stroke, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    The Dungeon Warden cursed the smug orb¡¯s silence. All excitement from the acquisition of the new lair was now gone. Searching for answers, or at the very least, a distraction, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out another artifact: a small glass orb. Syncing his senses to the unorthodox log-in point, the warden allowed his thoughts to join the data flow, leaving behind the limitations of his avatar, if only for the briefest of moments. The orb was typically reserved for self-medication, when the stress of his role and the confines of his body threatened to break him mentally. But today, even his means of relaxation was being commandeered by the demands of his unrelenting role.


    Disembodied, he swam backward through the history of Siriso¡¯s realm, eavesdropping on past events through his previously implanted spyware, searching for the prisoner in question. He quickly learned that three of the four newcomers had been transferred without issue, but that one had held up the transfer. Unsurprisingly, it was the same prisoner who had gone on to materialize in the boss chamber. Having located the suspect scrap of code, he watched it for signs of anomalies.


    Oblivious to his gaze, the swordsman wriggled in the clutches of his assailants, overwhelmed by the goblins who had been sent to test him. He was badly beaten, and being carried to Siriso¡¯s hut, no less. The priest¡¯s hut was too heavily encrypted for the warden to penetrate. But even as he watched from the outside, the warden knew that something wasn¡¯t quite right, here. Siriso¡¯s judgement was taking longer than usual. And Siriso was nothing if not punctual. Something was happening in that hut that was delaying the prisoner¡¯s journey to the dungeon.


    After a few minutes, the Dungeon Warden witnessed the prisoner being evicted from the priest¡¯s hut. Again the troublemaker was being carried, his old wounds now healed, but replaced with a new one, no doubt delivered by the guard with the broken nose.


    The warden watched as his new prisoner was blatantly tossed into the wrong data stream.


    Damn that Siriso, he cursed to himself. No wonder the noob materialized in the wrong place.


    The warden didn¡¯t know what Siriso was up to, and to ask would reveal his spyware, an advantage that he was not yet ready to give up. But right there and then, the Dungeon Warden was sure of one thing.


    This ¡®Shade¡¯ is going to be trouble.

 Chapter 8.1

    The prison canteen was in actuality, little more than a repurposed boss lair. Having been in one already, I knew what those looked like from experience. The spacious dungeon area was packed with row after row of sturdy wooden tables, all populated by even sturdier individuals. To say that I was feeling nervous in the presence of a small army of criminals in dangerous combat-based avatars was an understatement. The tables of warriors were, in turn, surrounded by a snaking queue of other prisoners¡­ a collection of half-orcs, sorcerers, beastlings and swordsmen that wound all the way across the room. They all had two things in common: the bored expressions that were etched on their faces, and the empty wooden trays in their hands.


    If the stares I was getting were anything to go by, my arrival was drawing some attention. To my relief, some of it was even female. I¡¯d seen a female barbarian once already (the impressive-looking amazon of a woman back in the boss lair). But this was my first introduction to the other options provided to the female players. They were hard to spot, being vastly outnumbered by the male prisoners, but I quickly spied a few witches, a pair of female gun mages, and a table of swordswomen, among others.


    Catching my gaze, the gathering of swordswomen stared back at me. I couldn¡¯t be sure if they were admiring my well-built avatar, sizing me up for a future mugging, or simply gazing upon the severely beaten noob like a passing motorist might survey the scene of a car accident. Either way, it was interesting to see the female variation of my own avatar. They all wore leather armor, something that might have come in handy in my earlier skirmish. But to my disappointment, they had not jumped on the ¡®shirtless swordfighter¡¯ bandwagon as readily as I had.


    I flashed them a smile. They flashed me a few unsavory hand gestures. Charming. Evidently, my flirting skill was as low here as it had been IRL. I was saved from the awkward exchange when Samusk punched me in the leg and suggested that we hurry up and get in line. The seemingly endless queue led to the prize we¡¯d all ventured here for: the serving table, where two huge steaming cauldrons of who-the-hell-knows-what awaited us.


    As we took our place behind a grey-skinned individual garbed in a fur cape, I caught sight of something that filled me with even more dread than all of the other prisoners combined. It was the closest thing that the repurposed lair now had to a boss. The eight-foot yellow-skinned monstrosity casually strode amongst the prisoners, like a giant tennis ball that had somehow grown limbs. It had a jagged row of teeth that could be mistaken for a belt, and a row of black, blinking eyes. It had to be another of those damned demons. (Or a zombified version of Pac-Man, I couldn¡¯t be certain which.) Either way, it made for an imposing presence, easily dwarfing the half-orcs and barbarians as it waded past them, like a shark casually making its way through a tank crammed with piranha. I prayed that the odd creature was more interested in maintaining order than the one I¡¯d encountered earlier. I¡¯d been kicked around more than enough for one day.


    I wanted to pick the dwarfs brain a bit more, see if he could tell me anything about the imposing creature. Specifically, I wanted to know more about its diet. But I could tell the dwarf was growing tired of my non-stop questions, so I decided against it. There would be more important things to ask him.


    Instead, I focused my attention on the hulking individual who stood before me in the queue, beginning an (admittedly fruitless) attempt to will my painfully-absent perception skill into existence. After a few futile attempts to stare a hole in the oblivious player¡¯s back (and a few less than friendly stares back when the half-orc finally realized what I was up to) I attempted to read a few players the old-fashioned way instead, turning my attention to a table of robed, bearded individuals. They were members of the arcane class, that much was obvious, their category marked by their robes and their lack of either muscle or armor. One grouping had pointy hats and wore brightly colored robes. The other carried staffs and looked positively down-and-out by comparison, their robes cut from a murky green sackcloth, and devoid of any embellishment. I¡¯d already seen the garb of the wizard during my own avatar¡¯s selection process, so by process of elimination, I decided that the latter grouping had to be the warlocks.


    Disappointingly, this detective-like act of observance did not generate the perception skill for me either. Perhaps Samusk was right. Unlike say, resilience, which could be developed just by standing up to a beating, teaching oneself how to perceive was a whole different ballgame. I was probably going to need another unallocated base point to kickstart that particular skill. And if the windfall from the shadow stallion¡¯s defeat had been anything to go by, base points were not being handed out lightly.


    The line slowly shuffled forward. With little else to do while I queued, I continued my efforts to will my fellow player¡¯s stats into view. So distracted was I by these efforts, that I walked straight into a wall. Or it may as well have been a wall, at any rate. It was the half-orc. Seven-foot-tall, skin as grey as granite, and if the chest was anything to go by, female. And no, I wasn¡¯t being a pervert by focusing on her frontage, I swear. It¡¯s just that I wasn¡¯t getting the usual abundance of clues regarding her gender from her face, so I had to rely on other visual aids. (Incidentally, this act of observation didn¡¯t earn me a perception point either.)


    I quickly apologized, throwing up my hands in what I hoped was the universal language of ¡®I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡¯ Alas, the half-orc was not versed in that particular language, or if she was, she did not have the same aversion to violence. Before I could even register what was happening, one of her powerful hands was around my neck, the other cupping my crotch. She hoisted me overhead as if I weighed nothing and threw me right onto the table of a nearby pack of diners.


    -[ Half-orc warrior throws you for -12HP damage. ]-


    ¡°I noticed, thanks.¡±


    Yup, that was all I needed. My new body was already aching, having regenerated roughly half my max HP, so far. Of course, I was soon to learn that a missing 12HP was now the least of my concerns.


    ¡°What the hell you playing at, noob?¡± spat the booming voice of one of the table¡¯s occupants. For the second time in under a minute, a powerful grip clamped down on my throat, before hoisting me up like a rag-doll. But this time, it didn¡¯t belong to the half-orc.


    As he brought me to his face, I realized he was a swordsman, like me. Well, sort of. Unlike me, he wore a light armor, had long jet-black hair, and his face was completely tattooed with a spider-web motif. Oh, and he was a good foot taller than me, which explained why my throat was straining and my feet were dangling. I made to speak, but the powerful hand wrapped around my throat was hampering my efforts. He stared at me intently. And then he sighed, dropping me unceremoniously to my ass.


    ¡°Bloody hell, fella. On first glance, I thought you were some kinda anorexic barbarian or summat. But now I see you¡¯re just a swords-noob. What happened to your tunic? Caught short on laundry day, were ya?¡±


    He offered me a hand up, which I graciously accepted.


    ¡°Something like that, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Heh. Well, it¡¯s good to see that I wasn¡¯t the only one dumb enough to go redemption class. The prisons infested with bloody barbarian¡¯s and-¡± he stopped mid-sentence, before pointing out the obvious. ¡°Blimey, you really fucked yourself on the stat allocation there, didn¡¯t you mate? Truth be told, I was planning to throw you back again, but I think I¡¯m actually starting to feel sorry for you.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He leaned in closer, whispering in my ear: ¡®You know, this prison can be a pretty dangerous place for a noob. But I might be inclined to offer you¡­ protection. I¡¯m a level 6 swordsman, you know. That makes me a knight.


    ¡°Trainee knight¡± piped up a dwarf from the stranger¡¯s table. The ¡®knight¡¯ gave him a withering look, then continued.


    ¡°The name¡¯s NoobSlayer. But don¡¯t let that threaten you, I¡¯m always in the market for a fit young squire.¡±


    Squire? Crap. Only my first day here and my ¡®fit¡¯ avatar is already attracting the wrong kind of attention. Maybe I should have picked a damn dwarf after all.


    ¡°Um, I appreciate the offer, I really do,¡± I lied, being careful not to offend the huge knight with the scary facial tattoo, ¡°but I want to stand on my own two feet as much as possible¡­¡±


    ¡°A pity,¡± he replied with a sigh, ¡°but a respectable strategy, in the long-term. Listen, ah¡­¡±


    ¡°Shade,¡± I offered.


    ¡°Shade the swords-noob,¡± he replied with a smirk, ¡°I like it. Let me give you a little tip, Shade. Acts of public humiliation make you look weak. A few more incidents like that and you¡¯ll unofficially develop the prison-bitch skill. And trust me, that¡¯s the kiss of death. You need to toughen up. Raise your level as quickly as you can. Spar with your cell-mate at every opportunity, that¡¯s how most prisoners grind their skills.¡±


    I turned, directing the swordsman¡¯s gaze to my dwarven accomplice.


    ¡°Satisfying as it would be, I don¡¯t think beating him around the cell like a dwarf-shaped pinata would do either of us any good. It might help his resistance, I suppose¡­ but he¡¯s a zero, so I don¡¯t even know if he can raise that stat.¡±


    ¡°Fucking hell, you really do have nothing going for you besides your looks, do you?¡± He pondered my situation for a few seconds, adding: ¡°Look, I can help you grind your swordsmanship. Sparing with a prisoner who¡¯s below your level won¡¯t do shit for your XP, but sparing with a level 6 like me could really fast-track you.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ sounds amazing.¡±


    ¡°Only problem is, helping you out would cost me, in the long run. I¡¯d be giving up time I could have spent hunting mobs. That¡¯s why nothing comes for free around here. I tell you what¡­ bring me something to make my stay go a little easier, and I¡¯ll spar with you for a few hours, see if we can raise you a level or two.¡±


    ¡°Like what,¡± I asked, silently hoping that we weren¡¯t venturing back into ¡®squire¡¯ territory.


    ¡°High-quality meat. Cigarettes, booze¡­ hell, dark crystal meth if you can get your hands on it. I¡¯m open to just about any vice, especially if I don¡¯t have to risk my own rep acquiring it. You bring me the pleasure, I¡¯ll show you how to dish out the pain.


    -[ Quest received from user: NoobSlayer. Would you like to view further details? ]-


    I really should have learned my lesson by now, but I clicked ¡®yes¡¯ anyway.


    NEW QUEST ¨C Pleasure the knight.


    NoobSlayer has asked you to acquire various items that may go some small way toward easing his stay in the dungeon.


    Goal: Satisfy the knight¡¯s various vices.


    Type of quest ¨C Repeatable.


    Reward: One training session per item acquired.


    Rep effect ¨C Neutral, but with a risk of rep loss if caught in possession of illegal contraband.


    Accept Y/N?


    ¡°Did you have to give it that title?¡± I groaned, clicking yes, regardless. I had no idea where I was going to get any of the things he mentioned, but I knew I couldn¡¯t afford to turn down the offer of a training session with a swordsman who was three times my level.


    NoobSlayer smirked. ¡°Nice one. For both our sakes, I hope that you succeed. Now, leave me to get back to my slop before it solidifies. But one last piece of advice before you go¡­ take every opportunity to level up that presents itself to you. And by that I mean do whatever it takes, even if your rep has to suffer in the short term. You¡¯re here for the long haul, so you can always make up for it later.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the advice,¡± I replied with an admittedly insincere smile, rubbing my recently man-handled throat. With that, I turned on my heel and returned to the queue. Thankfully, the wizard behind us didn¡¯t object to my rejoining. And to my even greater relief, the half-orc was gone. I enquired as to where she had gotten to, exactly (not that I was nervous or anything) and Samusk replied by pointing further up the line. I was just in time to watch her drag some poor bastard out of the queue to take his place. Even the lone guard didn¡¯t fancy tackling her. Either that, or he just didn¡¯t care enough to intervene.


    ¡°That fella was right, you know,¡± began Samusk.


    ¡°Look, if he finds himself some noob with a thing for tattooed giants, more power to him. But there is no fucking way I¡¯m polishing his sword for ¡®protection.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Not that ye dumb asshole. I mean he was right about doin¡¯ whatever it takes. Your reputation isn¡¯t just influenced by doin¡¯ right and wrong. It¡¯s also about how the general populace perceives ye. And lettin¡¯ a woman throw yeh around like that isn¡¯t goin¡¯ to do ye any favors.¡±


    ¡°A surprisingly sexist statement, considering how far that particular woman could throw you, if she tried.¡±


    ¡°Believe me, I was more than concerned about that possibility. Chiefly because I¡¯ve hired such a lightweight as a bodyguard. I¡¯m startin¡¯ to wonder if breakin¡¯ our contract would be worth the rep penalty.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I can see that our arrangement is going to do wonders for my ego.¡±


    ¡°Screw your ego,¡± he replied, ¡°Look at her. Do you think she has to worry about bein¡¯ picked on? That¡¯s a woman who knows how to survive.¡±


    ¡°By using me as a lawn dart? Does she have a noob-throwing skill she¡¯s trying to level up or something?¡±


    ¡°By making her actions count, lad. This is the busiest spot in the prison. There¡¯s no better place to instill maximum fear, with minimum effort.¡±


    I studied the half-orc¡¯s avatar from afar, before concluding: ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is, I should go pay her back while I still have an audience?¡±


    ¡°Hell¡¯s bells lad, that¡¯s not what I meant, either. She¡¯d crush you to noob-paste. I¡¯m tellin¡¯ ye to take advantage of yer level 2 status, and prove to these bastards that ye have the killer instinct to go with it. I¡¯ll use my perception to find ye some level 1 noob to rough up. That should help ye establish yer position a little higher on the food chain-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not bullying the other newcomers,¡± I cut in, giving the dwarf a stern look to show him that I meant it.


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°End of discussion,¡± I snapped. ¡°I hurt plenty of folks who didn¡¯t deserve it in my old life. I don¡¯t intend to carry that behavior over to my new one.¡±


    Samusk scowled, but he seemed to get the message, leaving it at that. For the moment, at least.


    ¡°How the hell did she get so strong, anyway?¡± I asked as I handed the dwarf a tray from the pile, attempting to get past the now icy atmosphere between us. ¡°I mean yeah, half-orc, I get that much. But I thought the one positive to my stat allocation would be my strength. She was way stronger than I am.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re the most physically powerful noob in noobsville,¡± replied Samusk, taking my meager wooden peace-offering. ¡°But ye have to realize, some of these bastards have been here since the day the prison went online.¡±


    The revelation stunned me.


    ¡°What? But that was six years ago. You mean to tell me there are prisoners here who never made it past the dungeon stage?¡±


    ¡°More than ye could possibly imagine. And mark my words, that one¡¯s been on the front line, levelling up against powerful mobs.¡±


    ¡°So just how powerful is she? I enquired. ¡°I can¡¯t read her stats, remember?¡±


    ¡°Her strength and resilience are easily double what you¡¯re packing, for a start.¡±


    ¡°Seriously? Damn. Well, at least I don¡¯t feel so bad about getting my ass handed to me, anymore.¡±


    For all the relief that brought me. I was really starting to grasp the magnitude of my earlier error. Not putting any points into perception had been a colossal mistake. Had I stridden up to the half-orc demanding vengeance, the subsequent ass-kicking in front of the assembled warriors would only have damaged my image even further. Without the aid of Samusk¡¯s perception, I had no way to be sure of my odds of success. Everyone in this dungeon was wearing either a digitized copy of the body they wore in their old life, or a bastardised version of it, with an added sprinkling of orc, beastling, or in the case of Samusk, dwarf. The problem with such bodies, even the ones with cookie-cutter alterations like grey skin or extra muscle mass, was that they gave me no indication of the true strength levels that were contained within. Sure, even an idiot could tell that a newly spawned half-orc, beastling or barbarian would likely be stronger than a newly spawned swordsman, you could tell that just by looking at their pumped-up pixels. But I was no longer in a holding pen for the newly spawned, and surface observations weren¡¯t worth a damn. My muscle mass as a level 2 swordsman was identical to the physique I had possessed back when I was level 1. Looks were deceiving. How long would it be before I found out that an opponent was a level 10 the hard way?

 Chapter 8.2

    Taking all of this into account, I had to admit that having the dwarf to serve as my eyes mightn¡¯t be the worst strategy available to me. Especially if I kept walking into pissed-off lady-orcs. Between his surprising amount of knowledge about the game (something that admittedly still made me feel a little uneasy) and the information about potential threats he could access using that evidently high-level perception skill of his, Samusk definitely had talents that I could make good use of.


    As I¡¯d pondered all this, I¡¯d been oblivious to our progression up the queue. We were finally a few bodies away from the servers. When we finally reached them, I couldn¡¯t believe what I was seeing.


    ¡°A beastling?¡± I gasped. ¡°On canteen duty? Are you fucking kidding me?¡±


    ¡°So?¡± replied Samusk, quizativly. ¡°The place is probably full of the buggers. Ye can¡¯t go judgin¡¯ ¡®em all by the one who robbed us. That would be racist.¡±


    ¡°But look at the amount of hair on her body. And she¡¯s serving food. You can¡¯t tell me that¡¯s hygienic.¡±


    ¡°What do you suggest she does about it, shave? Go get herself a full-body hairnet? Have some common sense, lad. Now shut it, her kind has better hearing than ours.¡±


    Oops.


    The line slowly shuffled forward until I reached the beastling responsible for dishing out the food. I couldn¡¯t be sure if she¡¯d heard me, but either way, my request for a menu did not receive the friendly customer-service smile that I had been hoping for. Not that I imagined the beastling had much use for smiling in general. She had so many crooked teeth protruding from her mouth, it was hard to tell exactly what expression she was going for.


    ¡°Tray,¡± she growled, her tone suggesting that yes, she probably had heard me.


    I flashed her my best ¡®most women I meet find me attractive, please instantly fall in love with me and give me nice things in return¡¯ smile, obligingly holding out a wooden tray that looked oddly like a poorly-crafted Bento box. It had lots of separate compartments, which at least suggested variety. Who knew what wondrous assortment of fantasy-themed food I was about to taste for the very first time. Slow-roasted unicorn? Pan-fried Pegasus wings? Frost-giant slushies for dessert?


    My hopes were immediately dashed, as the grumpy beastling ladled a dollop of grey slop into just about every compartment of the tray.


    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± I demanded, not even attempting to hide my contempt.


    No answer came, save for a grunt. I lowered my tray down to my companion¡¯s eye-level so that he could turn his impressive analytical skills upon its contents.


    ¡°Low nutrition gruel,¡± he replied, matter-of-factly.


    ¡°Seriously? ¡®Low nutrition gruel?¡¯ That¡¯s its actual name?¡±


    ¡°Yup. Contains eighteen percent of our daily nutritional requirements, apparently.¡±


    ¡°Why the hell is it so grey?¡± I continued, taking the dwarf¡¯s tray to collect a portion on his behalf. The counter had not been designed with the smaller warrior in mind. I presented Samusk¡¯s platter and received an equally unappetizing dollop of grey.


    ¡°Is there even any meat in it?¡± I asked, handing the tray back to its owner.


    ¡°Small amount¡± the beastling replied, grimly. ¡°Rat, mainly.¡±


    ¡°So, what you¡¯re saying is, we don¡¯t even get the nutrition we need to keep our virtual bodies healthy? Where¡¯s the logic in that? It¡¯s just simulated food, after all. I get that the ¡®game¡¯ is supposed to be a form of punishment, so I don¡¯t expect the food to taste great. But at the very least we should be getting what we need to keep our virtual bodies strong.¡±


    ¡°They want us to get upset over how shit the food is,¡± piped up the wizard behind us. He was in his late teens, dark-skinned, and his avatar¡¯s trademark silver hair and eyebrows sat oddly with his youth. As did his feeble patchy attempts to grow the customary grey beard that went with his role. ¡°See, if you hate the grub, you¡¯re more motivated to earn yourself something better,¡± he continued. ¡°Plus, there are the practicalities of feeding us well¡­ the dungeon doesn¡¯t allow for the conjuring of meat, not unless it¡¯s summoned in its original form¡­¡±


    ¡°You mean mobs?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Exactly. An¡¯ the harder the buggers are to kill, the tastier their meat tends to be. That¡¯s why the handouts are piss-poor. Rats taste like stewed crap, but they have no armor and poor offence, so even the low-ranking players can catch and kill them. Makes them popular with the food-gathers, but no one else.¡±


    ¡°I see. Thank you, ah...¡±


    ¡°MerlinPotter,¡± he replied, somewhat sheepishly, before adding: ¡°I panicked during avatar selection.¡±


    ¡°Shade,¡± I replied with a grin, shaking his hand.


    ¡°No probs, glad I could be of service. Now hurry up and move yer arse. Vile as the grub is, it¡¯s the only thing down here that¡¯s free. That means there¡¯s still a bloody queue for it, regardless.¡±


    I apologized for holding up the line, handed my tray to Samusk, and went to fetch us some cutlery and water. As I lifted two tin cups and dipped them into the lukewarm contents of the wooden barrel that was our canteen drinks dispenser, something occurred to me.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Shit, NoobSlayer asked me for high-quality meat, among other things. But if ¡®high-quality¡¯ is just another way of saying ¡®more dangerous,¡¯ that might not be as easy to acquire as I¡¯d first imagined. Dammit, why do I keep accepting quests without understanding what the hell I¡¯m getting myself into?


    I put that out of my mind and surveyed the ¡®cutlery¡¯ on offer. It was little more than cheap wooden kindling, curved down the middle like a stick of celery (if such a thing could be grown from a flimsy, wood-like substance).


    -[ Items acquired: Two slices of Spritewillow Reed. Intended for use as an alternative to a spoon. Quality: Poor. Durability: 1/1 ]-


    So, running around with a sword the size of your leg is totally acceptable around here, but a metal fork or spoon is too dangerous to ask for? This place is totally fucked up.


    ¡°This was all I could get,¡± I advised Samusk apologetically, handing him the odd, fragile utensil, his water, and taking back my tray.


    ¡°No surprises there,¡± replied the dwarf, studying the pathetic item, adding: ¡°Rogues are partial to small blades and stealing things. They just ruin it for the rest of us, eh?¡±


    As Samusk surveyed the room for a pair of empty seats, the young wizard behind us had just returned with his own ¡®cutlery¡¯. He seemed friendly enough, so I decided to risk bothering him again.


    ¡°So, ah¡­ what you said about the meat, earlier. Am I right in saying that anything we kill, we get to keep?¡±


    ¡°Yup, you kill it, you get to eat it,¡± he replied, scanning the room as he spoke. ¡°With the exception of our fellow prisoners, of course,¡± he added with a smirk, before correcting himself: ¡°Well, unless you¡¯re one of those lads.¡± He gestured his ¡®spoon¡¯ toward Pac-man¡¯s evil twin. ¡°I hear those sick fucks have a slightly more ¡®alternative¡¯ pallet.¡±


    ¡°You mean the demons, right?¡± I replied. ¡°Shit! I knew that bastard back at the spawning site was looking at me like I was a damn fast-food delivery. If they¡¯re so dangerous, how the hell can they just roam free like that?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t say for certain, mate, only been here a couple of weeks myself. But from what I understand, the continued spread of the dungeon coupled with the sheer number of prisoners has taxed the warden¡¯s NPCs to breakin¡¯ point.¡±


    ¡°NPCs? You mean the regular guards, right? I haven¡¯t even seen one since I got here.¡± I decided not to point out that this was partly because of the amount of time I¡¯d spent unconscious, so far. ¡°Can¡¯t this warden guy just generate some more?¡±


    ¡°This may be a game, but an artificial world always has its pre-programmed limits. The dungeon was never intended to hold so many players at any one time. Probably would have cost our stingy new owners too much to track down the sub-routine that was limitin¡¯ the number of NPC guards¡­¡±


    ¡°So, they drafted in demons to pick up the slack?¡±


    ¡°Can you think of a better choice? Naturally scary buggers with a bad reputation an¡¯ unpredictable power-sets... who better to keep this bunch of bastards in line? The demon players have no hope of ever ascending, so they may as well make the most of it. Remember, this is the lowest level in Atone Online. Who better to police hell than the demons, eh?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t argue with that, but still¡­ being eaten by the other players¡­ that¡¯s horrifying.¡±


    ¡°Well, the freaks have to be paid for their services somehow, right? And troublesome prisoners are the one commodity that never runs out down here. So I¡¯d guess for the Dungeon Warden, it¡¯s a win-win situation. You want my advice, you¡¯ll try not to think about it too much. It¡¯s not like the poor sods who get eaten won¡¯t respawn eventually, eh?¡±


    I knew that much from experience, having recently found my way down the back of a shadow stallion¡¯s throat. But the knowledge didn¡¯t make me feel any safer.


    ¡°Demons aren¡¯t the only ones with a taste for human flesh, mind,¡± he continued. ¡°Don¡¯t forget, to the necromancer class, we¡¯re all just cattle. And they¡¯re not above using us as such.¡±


    ¡°Shit, I forgot all about them. And the ¡®damned knights.¡¯ Don¡¯t tell me they¡¯re on bloody janitor duty or something.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about them, mate. Those bastards have their own canteen. In general, the fallen¡¯s dietary needs are little more ah¡­¡±


    ¡°Immoral?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯ll do. In fact, they don¡¯t only have their own canteen, they have their own floor. That¡¯ll be why you haven¡¯t run into any of them, yet.¡±


    Why did he have to say ¡®yet.¡¯


    With that, the apprentice spotted his associates (an older spectacled wizard who was doing his best impersonation of Dumbledore and a fellow Harry Potter wannabe) and politely bid me farewell.


    I was satisfied with the information the young wizard had provided me, though there had been more I had wanted to ask. For a start, I still had absolutely no idea where I could obtain illicit substances for the ¡®mighty¡¯ NoobSlayer, in order to fulfil my dubious quest. I¡¯d considered broaching the subject, my suspicion being that the wizards may be the source of the ¡®dark crystal meth¡¯, given their alchemical background. But I¡¯d stopped myself, for no other reason than the fact that asking the first black prisoner I met where I could find drugs would have made me feel like a total prick. Excluding Mai, who was an AI, MerlinPotter had been the first person I¡¯d met who¡¯d been nice to me without expecting anything in return. And with that in mind, the last thing I wanted to do was accidentally offend the kid.


    Anyway, I had other options to win the Knight¡¯s favor. The revelation that I was entitled to keep the meat of any mob I killed was just what I¡¯d needed to hear: that gave me options. I¡¯d encountered the dungeon¡¯s monster community the very moment I¡¯d arrived, which at the very least suggested that they were plentiful. The rep point I¡¯d gained from the shadow stallion¡¯s death also suggested that they were fair game and that they also granted less tangible rewards. Yes, the more I thought about it, mob meat seemed like my most likely form of payment for my desperately-needed training. Unfortunately, that presented me with a bit of a catch-22: my XP was still too low to take on a shadow foal alone. But I couldn¡¯t grind my combat XP without fighting something, and I doubted that rats would cut it. Of course, if there were rats, surely there was something else I could hunt to help me on my way.


    I turned to Samusk. The dwarf was still surveying the room, and despite my attempts to hurry him, seemed oblivious to my presence. After another few minutes of being used as a turnstile by bustling barbarians and irritable half-orcs, the wait began to grate on me.


    ¡°Why are we still standing here?¡± I moaned, my patience finally exhausted. ¡°My slops getting cold, and it was barely appetizing to begin with. Can¡¯t we just go find ourselves a table?¡±


    ¡°What do ye think I¡¯m doin¡¯, lad? We¡¯re tryin¡¯ to network, remember?¡± he huffed. ¡°So choosin¡¯ where we sit is very important.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been studying the entire room since you got here. What the hell are you looking for, anyway?¡±


    The dwarf rolled his eyes. ¡°We need to find a gang to join. Or yeh do, at any rate.¡±


    ¡°Strength in numbers?¡± I enquired.


    ¡°Not only that. A well-organized gang will pass on its skills to its newer members, trainin¡¯ them up fer the group¡¯s overall benefit. And one of the best things ye can do fer yerself down here is acquire as many skills as possible. The range available topside is much wider, but the more skills you have, the more invaluable yeh become.¡±


    I subtly suggested that the dwarf was about to develop the punchbag skill, and he finally relented, leading us into the belly of the beast.

 Chapter 9.1

    Our unusual pairing walked in silence, passing table after table, each one crammed with fantasy-themed prisoners possessing avatars that looked much more threatening than my own. Some, like the half-orc who¡¯d attacked me earlier, looked angry. Others were visibly fed up, pushing their slop around the tray with all the enthusiasm that the murky concoction deserved. A few prisoners, such as the young apprentice who I¡¯d spoken to earlier, were even laughing, their comradery shielding them from the grim substitute for reality that now stored their forgotten, digitized souls. I quickly noted that most players preferred to stick to their own, forming tribes of warlocks, barbarians, half-orcs and even the occasional group of dwarves. I quickly calculated one such group, and childish as it was, I was delighted to learn that there were seven of them.


    Tribalism was not the only trait the prisoners shared, however. As we made our way deeper into the eating area, I realized that a tendency to glare at the newcomers was also something many players had in common. An army of eyes was now burning into me, no doubt sizing up my stats with their fancy ¡®perception¡¯ skills. I was beginning to feel paranoid.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m getting dirty looks,¡± I whispered, as the dwarf strode ahead of me, searching for the best possible spot from which to form an alliance.¡±


    ¡°Probably yer crap charisma,¡± he replied, not even looking back. The blunt answer gave me the perfect opportunity to ask the question that had been on the edge of my lips for a while, now.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering about that,¡± I began, pensively. ¡°What¡¯s all this about charisma as a statistic? My personality is my personality. What difference can a number possibly make to that?¡±


    The dwarf halted for a moment, his brow wrinkling as he considered his choice of words carefully.


    ¡°Hmmm, how can I put this delicately, lad?¡± After a few seconds, he added: ¡°Okay, here goes. Have ye ever met someone, and ye didn¡¯t know why, exactly, but somethin¡¯ about them jus¡¯ made ye want to slap them?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah¡­¡± I admitted, because I¡¯d met quite a few people like that in my lifetime.


    ¡°That¡¯s you, that is,¡± he announced, bluntly. ¡°The most slappable noob in the dungeon.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I gasped.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing personal. It¡¯s just that ye give off an aura, of sorts, and it¡¯s all thanks to that big fat zero yer packing in the charisma column. Hey, don¡¯t pull that face, it¡¯s a hundred times worse for me. Yer aura stinks, an¡¯ that means hangin¡¯ out with yeh is like walkin¡¯ around with a child who¡¯s shat his own britches.¡±


    ¡°Charming. So, what you¡¯re telling me is, my avatar is programmed to compel others to dislike me?¡±


    ¡°Yup, pretty much. Ask any of the buggers. They won¡¯t be able to tell you why, exactly... jus¡¯ like they don¡¯t know why they¡¯re so keen to please the players with high charisma. The game works its way into the subconscious an¡¯ overrides our instincts, tweakin¡¯ our responses to each other on a subconscious level.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s altering our free will. We¡¯re supposed to be free to make our own choices down here, good or bad. That¡¯s how we ultimately prove whether or not we¡¯re fit for redemption. How can they justify fucking with our brains like that?¡±


    ¡°Beats me, lad, I didn¡¯t bloody program it. Maybe it¡¯s a way of testin¡¯ the other prisoner¡¯s self-control.


    ¡°With me as the crash-test dummy? That¡¯s hardly fair.¡±


    ¡°They probably reckon overcomin¡¯ adversity builds character, how the hell should I know? Personally, I¡¯m more concerned with what else they might be tweakin¡¯ inside our heads. We¡¯re all code now, code that they own, so technically the buggers can rewrite us as they please. But look, the bottom line is, yer social score¡¯s zero. Anywhere else, folks would probably jus¡¯ ignore yeh, but I¡¯d say at least half of these anti-social bastards probably want to kick yer head in.¡±


    Or kick me down the stairs? was what I wanted to ask him next, but I needed advice, not a defensive dwarf. So instead I inquired:


    ¡°So how do I fix that, then?¡±


    ¡°How do ye think? Yer gonna have to find a way to make people like ye more. It¡¯s an important stat to level up, we all need allies, after all¡­ yeh¡¯ll just have to try harder than most. Yer probably better off starting with the other social pariahs. Failing that, ye could always ¡®squire¡¯ yer ass out to fellas like that knight. That might make ye some new friends.¡±


    I ignored the blatant attempt to pimp me out and asked the obvious question.


    ¡°Samusk¡­ you like me, right?¡±


    ¡°Lad, I need ye. Doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s any more comfortable for me to be around ye than it is for anyone else.¡±


    Ouch.


    ¡°Seriously? Am I that intolerable?¡±


    ¡°For now, yeah. But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not goin¡¯ anywhere. I¡¯m playin¡¯ the long game, an¡¯ I know you¡¯ll eventually shift that stink. Besides, what I need is muscle, not a BFF.¡±


    Perhaps I looked hurt by the dwarf¡¯s bluntness. Or maybe he already realized just how poorly his attempt to put things delicately had gone. Either way, he felt the need to add: ¡°Relax, kid. Yeh seem to have a decent personality. I¡¯m sure yeh¡¯ll go from the noob everyone wants to slap to the noob everyone prefers to ignore in no time.¡±


    Well, that will be something to look forward to. Oh well¡­ if I really am the dungeons most punchable inmate, I¡¯m probably better off knowing that small fact in advance.


    Still, the conversation highlighted yet another benefit that could come from an alliance with the dwarf. Evidently, Samusk did not suffer from the same charisma deficiency. Yes, I wanted to punch him, but that was for completely justifiable reasons, not some intangible stat. It would be good to have him around to deal with others on my behalf, when necessary. Plus, he was smart. Smart enough to know that the charisma stat was manipulating his feelings toward me, and (the occasional flight of stairs aside) he was probably less likely to turn on me because of that awareness. And of course, if what he was saying about my charisma skill was true, his offer to balance out my shortcomings might be the only such proposition I was going to get. Certainly, the only one that came with a wage.


    As we continued our search, one table in particular caught my eye. It was larger than most, haphazardly constructed from a number of smaller tables that had been pushed together with little thought or care. Importantly (for a dwarf-human combo such as us, at least) there seemed to be no discernible pattern to its membership. I eagerly pointed the grouping out to Samusk.


    ¡°That¡¯s a rabble,¡± replied the dwarf, his face contorting as if the very words had been flavored with bile. ¡°They¡¯ll take anyone into their ranks to increase their strength, regardless of their stats. And the gang¡¯s rep is all the worse for it. We¡¯ll be stayin¡¯ well clear of that lot.¡±


    ¡°Groups have their own rep figures?¡± I asked.


    Samusk sighed. I could tell that my status as an information-hungry noob was starting to piss him off again.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the deal. If your gang has a bad rep, every single member is hit by an additional rep penalty, its severity dictated by how badly perceived that particular gang is. Rabbles usually don¡¯t care about that sort of thing. Hell, they don¡¯t even have a leader, it¡¯s just a damn free for all. Their members just want the backin¡¯ of anyone who will have them, at least until a worthwhile gang shows an interest. They¡¯ll take anyone. Case in point, look who¡¯s sittin¡¯ amongst them¡­¡±


    I followed Samusk¡¯s gaze. It led me to a very familiar pairing of rogue and beastling.


    ¡°Bastards,¡± I hissed, grinding my teeth.


    As I studied the duo from afar, the damn rogue spotted me. He flashed me a sly grin, before turning to the scrawny half-orc who was sat on his opposite side. The rogue whispered something into the ugly creature¡¯s ear, and it looked up from its tray of gruel, its beady yellow eyes locking onto my own. Uncomfortable with the extra attention I quickly turned away.


    ¡°Now that gang on the other hand¡­¡± continued Samusk, gesturing to the table opposite, ¡°¡­they have a clear recruitment policy, and a leader.¡±


    The table in question was overflowing with wizards (or apprentices, I didn¡¯t have the perception to know the difference, admittedly). At its head sat an exquisitely dressed woman in a surprisingly ornate headpiece. Her skin was as white as milk and her robes were well cut, leaving very little to my imagination.


    ¡°I wanna join that party,¡± I gasped, my eyes now fixed on the sexy sorcerous.


    ¡°Last I checked, yeh lacked the necessary qualifications¡­¡±


    ¡°I can grow a beard,¡± I protested. Hell, if it¡¯s for her, I¡¯ll even wander around in a dressing gown mumbling gibberish.¡±


    ¡°Yeh may not be a wizard, lad, but yeh sure do a lot of yer thinkin¡¯ with yer wand. Think fer a minute, what use could you possibly be to her? There¡¯s probably more mana in one of my farts.¡±


    ¡°Oi, I¡¯ll have you know I have the mana generation skill, now.¡±


    ¡°Do you now?¡± replied the dwarf, squinting at my avatar. ¡®Well, I¡¯ll be. When¡¯d ye hit level 2, then? Ye certainly kept that quiet.¡±


    ¡°Only because I was slightly unconscious at the time,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Yer still no good to that lot. Arcane types use their mana to power spells. Swordsmen just use it to put a bit more oomph behind their sword-strikes.¡±


    ¡°That has to be useful in itself though, right? The parties in these sorts of games thrive on diversity. One wizard, one dwarf, etcetera¡­¡±


    ¡°Ye need to remember where ye are, lad. These aren¡¯t parties, they¡¯re prison gangs. An¡¯ it¡¯s human nature to band together based on shared characteristics.¡±


    ¡°So, how does that help us, then?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I have a plan to get around that. But to put it in play, we still need to find a gang that¡¯s prepared to take in a lowly swords-noob like yerself.¡±


    ¡°She might consider adding a swordsman to her ranks,¡± I continued, refusing to let the proposition go. Admittedly, I was thinking with my wand. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we go ask her, at least?¡±


    ¡°Gangs are fussy about who they recruit, lad. If they need a skill they don¡¯t possess, they jus¡¯ hire in a contractor as and when they need one. An¡¯ I can¡¯t imagine you¡¯d be much use to that lot, unless they need essence of noob as an ingredient fer a spell. Ah, this table will do.¡±


    I pouted, but obliged, taking my seat. As we finally prepared to eat, Samusk pointed his ¡®spoon¡¯ toward another table. It was occupied by a huge, flamboyantly dressed barbarian, surrounded by a virtual army of buff, skull-embellished minions. ¡°That¡¯s what we need, right there.¡±


    ¡°Him?¡± I balked. ¡°He looks like a walking jewellery display-cabinet. He¡¯s wearing so much gold, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised to learn that he sleeps underneath a fucking dragon.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just showin¡¯ off his loot,¡± replied the dwarf, the grey slop running down his beard as he shoveled it into his flapping lips. ¡°The bugger wants to put out an image of success. An¡¯ judgin¡¯ by his rep an¡¯ the number of trinkets danglin¡¯ from his avatar, there¡¯s been plenty of it.¡±


    The dwarf stopped to shovel more of the unappetizing swill into his mouth, swallowed, and then continued.


    ¡°As a barbarian, he¡¯ll have spawned with an additional -5 rep penalty on top of his sentence. But he must¡¯ve made a lot of good moves after that. He¡¯s currently rep -3. An¡¯ just as a gang¡¯s credibility can hurt its members, a good leader can help the reputation of everyone around him.¡±


    ¡°Impressive,¡± I admitted. But if he¡¯s rep -3, he¡¯s only a few points away from ascending to the surface, surely?¡±


    ¡°True, as are a good few of his men. But that only helps us. Whoever takes over that gang will need to fill those vacated positions fast, lest the other gangs take advantage. We need to get you positioned to catch their attention before that happens.¡±


    ¡°Um, I might have to work out a bit more before I can pass for a barbarian,¡± I admitted, flexing my biceps for effect. A wolf whistle echoed across the room. I really hoped that it had come from one of the ladies.


    ¡°Yer sword class, though. Hopefully, that¡¯ll be enough fer them to consider ye. This ain¡¯t a science, so I can¡¯t be sure. If we were dealin¡¯ with NPCs, they¡¯d be a lot more predictable.¡±


    ¡°If he is the King of the Conan¡¯s, why¡¯s he in here eating slop with the lowly peasants, then?¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Look at his men. They¡¯re all jus¡¯ collectin¡¯ their food, then givin¡¯ it away to the other prisoners. Smart. The beefy bastards probably hunt fer their own meat, but they still turn up for the free stuff so¡¯s they can gift it to other prisoners, increasing their reputation. That¡¯s a man who knows how to work the system.¡±


    For the first time, I saw something unfamiliar in the dwarf¡¯s eyes: respect.


    I turned and gave one of the barbarians sitting behind me a nudge. He twisted to meet my gaze, grey slop running from his chin.


    ¡°Whaddaya want, noob.¡±


    ¡°That barbarian over there?¡± I asked. ¡°Have you any idea how he came to be so well respected?¡±


    The barbarian looked at me for a moment, before spitting his grey slop into my face. Then, without a further word, he returned to the remains of his meal.


    Charming.


    ¡°All right, admittedly it might have been a bit racist to expect all the barbarians to know each other. But still, that¡¯s just rude.¡±


    ¡°What did ye expect? Yer charisma score is zero, and he doesn¡¯t know ye from Prince Adam. Hell, yer lucky he didn¡¯t punch ye in the face. I know I would have. Now stop dickin¡¯ around. People are watchin¡¯ us again, and the last thing I need is a bodyguard with the prison-bitch skill-¡±


    ¡°Um, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s actually a real skill¡­¡±


    ¡°Shhhhh. Intel gathering. Leave me be.¡±


    Samusk continued to study the comings and goings at the barbarians table, shushing me every time I began to ask another question. With little else to occupy me, I conceded that it was time to bite the bullet and try the local cuisine. Firstly, I leaned in and inhaled, hoping that it smelt better than it looked. To my horror, it smelt worse. But alas, if the food was as low in nutrition as it claimed to be, I¡¯d probably need every scrap that I could get. The last thing I needed was a malnutrition debuff dragging down my already painfully noobish stats.


    Somewhat reluctantly, I scooped the grey sludge onto my flimsy spoon and forced it into my avatar via the conventional method. It tasted horrible. But to my surprise, after a few forced spoonful¡¯s I received a status message.


    -[ You have received a healing buff. Natural HP regeneration +20% for 1 hour. ]-


    So, food served to enhance healing, then. Good to know. It was a welcome effect, albeit a slow one. Still, if low nutrition food could have that effect, it stood to reason that higher quality food might heal a player faster.


    Another reason for me to hurry up and find a way to acquire mob meat I told myself, and continued to shovel the putrid slop down my avatars throat.


    By the time my ¡®meal¡¯ was finished, my HP was back to 45/90, half my current maximum. I cursed the half-orc for hampering my recovery and cast a glance to her table. She¡¯d already finished her meal and was ¡®negotiating¡¯ a second portion from one of her fellow prisoners. The nervous-looking barbarian knew better than to argue and promptly handed it over.


    More than prepared to pick on someone her own size, then, I noted, making a mental vow to stay the hell out of her way.


    ¡°Time for us to leave,¡± announced Samusk, eventually, dragging me from a sordid little daydream involving Mai, the Sorceress, myself, and a flask of healing balm that had to be applied by hand.


    ¡°Hang on,¡± I protested, ¡°aren¡¯t we going to go approach the barbarian about joining his gang?¡±


    ¡°With our rep? dream on, lad.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m rep -19, that¡¯s got to be better than most of the noobs around here.¡±


    ¡°Gods, you¡¯re so na?ve. Even puttin¡¯ aside the small matter of yer crap charisma, it¡¯s much more complicated than that. Sure, statistically ye might help bring up their average. But a noob is a noob. Wanderin¡¯ over from the noob table and asking fer a job won¡¯t get their attention. They¡¯ll laugh in our damned faces, or worse. Fer now, it¡¯s enough that I¡¯ve seen who he eats with. Now that I know who has his ear, I can make my own moves to get theirs. Now let¡¯s go.¡±


    I knew he was right, and it was yet another reminder as to why I needed the dwarf by my side. My instincts were always to act on impulse, even if it inevitably led to an ass-kicking: strategy has never been my strong point. Samusk¡¯s non-combatant status meant he was all about the strategy. it was almost as if fate had placed us together to compensate for each other¡¯s weaknesses.


    The dwarf grabbed his tray, pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. As he turned to leave, I made to follow, giving the sultry sorceress one final longing glance. My daydream was promptly shattered as I heard a cry from the direction of the exit. Samusk was being accosted by the rabble we¡¯d passed on our way in. I was just in time to witness a muscular leg being thrust out, kicking the dwarf¡¯s feet out from under him and sending him crashing face-first to the unforgiving stone floor.


    Great, I thought to myself, rushing to his aid. Here we go again. Does this fucking dwarf have a sign above his head that says ¡®mug me¡¯?


    The rogue was now on his feet, his dagger drawn, like a vulture circling its prey. More and more prisoners sprang from their chairs, baring my attempts to reach my employer. Predictably, the canteen¡¯s sole guard casually strode away, turning a blind eye to the growing unrest.


    ¡°Hey, noob, you can¡¯t leave yet,¡± announced the gravelly voice of a prisoner as he made his way through the crowd. It was the scrawny half-orc I¡¯d seen sitting with the rogue. ¡°You haven¡¯t paid your respectssss.¡±


    ¡°My, respects?¡±


    ¡°Ssssure. Don¡¯t you know the face of your god when you ssssee it?¡±


    He gestured to another figure as it made its way through the crowd. This one was an even less welcome sight. It was the beastling who¡¯d mugged me, earlier. But this time, he was wearing a crown forged from junk, and his elongated, ape-like arms were stretched wide open as if inviting my worship.


    Great. Deluded. I had wondered how long it takes to go crazy down here. Less than a day, evidently.


    ¡°The Brotherhood do appreciate your generous contribution to our weaponssss cache, by the way,¡± continued the half-orc, withdrawing a very familiar sword from his inventory. My sword.


    So, he knows that I¡¯m unarmed as well. Wonderful.


    My eyes darted back to the beastling. His arms were now folded, and he was grinning from ear to ear, nodding in agreement like one of those toy dogs in the back of people¡¯s cars. I always hated those things, and now even more so.


    ¡°Of coursssse, I can¡¯t count it as your offering, not when it was our two newesssst recruits who besssstowed it upon the clan.¡± He held up the broken weapon, repeatedly turning it over in his spindly grey hand, examining every angle of the shattered blade. ¡°It¡¯ll be worth about 120 gold when it¡¯ssss fixed,¡± he finally continued. ¡°But repairssss, like everything else, cost money. Ssssseeing as how it was you who ssssaddled us with this expensssse, it only seems fair that you foot the repair bill for us, eh? Are we undersssstanding each other, sssswordsnoob.¡±


    My suggestion that the creepy half-orc go shove the sword up his personal sheath drew exactly the response that I¡¯d anticipated from the growing mob. But the half-orc kept his calm, petitioning the rabble for quiet.


    ¡°Feissssty one, eh?¡± he replied. ¡°So confident.¡±


    He pointed to the rogue, who was now pinning Samusk to the floor with his foot. The bastard knew how reliant I was on the dwarf to cover my shortcomings, and he wasn¡¯t letting Samusk clamp eyes on my opponent.


    ¡°My friend here ssssays you¡¯re a pushover,¡± drawled the creepy Nosferatu wannabe, placing my shattered blade back in his inventory as he spoke. ¡°But he¡¯ssss provided me with a quick rundown of your sssstats, and I see real potential. Level 2 already? Impressssive. The Brotherhood could ussse a man like you.¡±


    Fucking rogue with his fucking perception, I grumbled internally.


    ¡°Ditch the dwarf and bend the knee to ussss,¡± the creature continued, gesturing toward the unimpressive prize that was the baying rabble. ¡°Then perhapsss we¡¯ll even consider canceling your debt.¡±


    ¡°And if I don¡¯t,¡± I bellowed, trying to sound as confident as possible, despite the odds against me.


    ¡°Reject ussss, and we¡¯ll sssstomp that furry faced pinata of yourssss until more candy fallssss out,¡± he threatened, his tone remaining flat, his sinister smile slowly curling at the edges.


    So, he knows about the dwarf¡¯s resources too, then. Shit! That isn¡¯t good. Meanwhile, I know next to nothing about this creepy little bastard.


    My challenger was scrawny, but I was well aware of just how little that mattered. For all I knew, the bastard had been imprisoned here right from the very start, grinding his combat skills to levels that I could only dream of. One thing was for certain, though: just because he was stuck here, didn¡¯t mean I was prepared to circle the drain with him.


    Rushing in with my non-existent unarmed combat stat was only going to get me beaten to a pulp, or worse, respawned (and rolled back to zero in the process). Like it or not, I needed a strategy.


    I cast another gaze toward Samusk. Alas, my seeing-eye dwarf was too busy staring at the floor to contribute words of wisdom. It was hard to make out through the crowd, but an overweight beastling now appeared to be sitting on the dwarf¡¯s back, pinning him down. And that suggested that the rogue was on the move again.


    Dammit. That¡¯s all I fucking needed.


    I couldn¡¯t believe this was happening again, and so soon. Especially in front of all the other inmates, where my reputation was already so fragile. But it was that concern that also gave me an idea: surely the half-orc had his reputation to think about, too. And perhaps that was something I could use.


    ¡°You¡¯re pretty tough when you¡¯re hiding among your pack of lapdogs,¡± I began. ¡°But I¡¯m curious, is there enough man left in your half-orc avatar to fight me unarmed, one-on-one?¡±


    -[ You have initiated a challenge to the unknown half-orc aggressor. Awaiting response. ]-


    ¡­announced my status bot. This was promptly confirmed by the transparent screen that suddenly appeared before the mouthy creature¡¯s avatar, requesting his acceptance. Admittedly, the system confused me: surely there was no requirement for prisoners to ask for permission to fight each other? I could only assume that this formality was a way to have the battle formally sanctioned by the game: perhaps to escape interference from the guards, or to absolve the winner of the reputation penalty that could potentially follow the murder of another inmate.


    ¡°What the hell are you saying?¡± growled Samusk from somewhere behind me, before being silenced by the paw of his furry jailer.


    I could well understand Samusk¡¯s confusion over my actions. Yes, the rabble was being physically aggressive, but for me to issue a challenge of my own? That was an escalation, and probably didn¡¯t fit the dwarf¡¯s calm, calculated style. But I only had my own instincts to go on, and they were all telling me that this was going to be a fight, either way. With that in mind, I figured that I may as well take control of the reins, and hopefully manipulate my odds of survival in the process.


    The half-orc looked taken aback by my challenge. While the rabble had no official leader, it was clear to me that this guy was doing his damndest to act like one. With that in mind, how could he afford not to accept my challenge?


    ¡°Why sssshould I ssssteal all the glory?¡± snapped the creature, hitting ¡®no¡¯ on the panel, closing the window in the process. He looked visibly unsettled. ¡°The debt issss to the Brotherhood, not jusssst to me. Defy ussss, and we are all entitled to retribution.¡±


    The crowd began to close in, but I remained calm. I¡¯d considered this possibility. The bastard understood that his rabble of followers didn¡¯t give two shits about his cowardice: they were all of a similar ilk, relying on strength in numbers. But they weren¡¯t the only gang present. We were in a neutral zone. And that meant this was all happening in full view of their competitors. If the half-orc really was using the rabble as a stepping stone to bigger and better things, the last thing he needed was for me to make him look weak in front of the other gangs. With that in mind, I quickly pressed the issue.


    ¡°I¡¯d heard that the rabble can¡¯t fight their own battles, but I wouldn¡¯t have realized just how worthless you all are if I hadn¡¯t seen it with my own eyes¡­¡±


    ¡°How dare you,¡± spat the wannabe leader, clenching his fists.


    A panel suddenly appeared in front of me. But for once, it wasn¡¯t a quest. In its top left-hand corner, a pixelated image of my half-orc aggressor. Displayed next to it, was his name: Gary279.


    ¡°Fuck, someone got bored searching for a username that hadn¡¯t already been taken, didn¡¯t they?¡± I scoffed, further riling the creature up.


    I clicked the image of an envelope, and the translucent screen widened.


    -[ User: Gary279 has issued a challenge to user: Shade. Challenge type: unarmed combat. Warning: this is a duel to the death. Accept y/n? ]-


    Okay, so I¡¯ll admit it, this wasn¡¯t turning out to be the lunchtime networking session Samusk and I had originally been hoping for. The half-orc had unexpectedly upped the ante, adding the stipulation that we fight to the death. Was he trying to scare me into backing down, I wondered? Once again, I cursed my lack of a perception skill. It was like playing poker against someone who¡¯d already seen all my cards. Of course, that meant he could also be bluffing. But regardless, it was a serious step-up from taking on an entire rabble single-handed.


    As I studied the request that hovered before me, a distant Samusk was still demanding to know what was happening. I blocked out his cries and checked my HP. 48/90. Not great, given the circumstances. But every moment¡¯s hesitation was making me look weak. With that concern spurring me on, I clicked yes.


    Tables were noisily pushed out of the way as the circle of bodies around us began to grow, now swelled by prisoners with no connection to the rabble. The bloodthirsty bastards were hungry for entertainment, not gruel, and began forming a human (-ish) colosseum, the players further back climbing atop the tables for a better view. One of the bodies behind me was much larger than the others, and I instantly recognized it: it was the guard. But any feeling of relief the demon¡¯s presence brought quickly subsided, as I realized that the big yellow bastard was just positioning himself to get the best possible view of the action.


    The room was now filled with a deafening roar of battle-cries and taunts, as bets were hastily placed on my odds of survival. I raised my fists into a defensive stance, preparing to fight the grey-skinned bastard and with any luck, take back the shattered remains of my sword. I¡¯d now learned that it could be repaired and was eager to reclaim it. But to my surprise, ¡®Gary279¡¯ turned on his heel and began to casually walk away from me. Seconds later, Samusk was tossed to my feet by the baying crowd.


    ¡°What the hell¡¯s going on?¡± I demanded.


    Once the half-orc reached the edge of the makeshift arena, he turned and began to laugh.


    ¡°What, you thought we were fighting?¡± he asked, that smug grin of his wider than ever, revealing a jagged zig-zag of yellowing saw-like teeth. ¡°Oh no, of coursssse not. I am merely a sssspokesman for our communion, for there is no hierarchy amongst the Brotherhood. Besides, there are others who requessssted this very honor the moment they laid eyes on you.¡±


    He beckoned to the crowd, and an all-too-familiar rogue stepped into view. Admittedly, the sight brought a smile to my own lips.


    ¡°What you grinnin¡¯ at?¡± spat Samusk. It was odd to see him looking so riled.


    ¡°A one-on-one fight with the bastard who almost choked me to death earlier today? I can live with that.¡±


    ¡°But can yeh live through it?¡± asked the dwarf, sarcastically.


    ¡°Oh ye of little faith,¡± I rebuked. ¡°Surely you have to admit, this was a good strategy, yeah? Much better than the free-for-all we almost ended up in the middle of.¡±


    The dwarf didn¡¯t answer, so I turned to my new opponent.


    ¡°Come on, what are we waiting for? Let¡¯s do this.¡±


    ¡°Uh-uh,¡± interjected the half-orc, waggling a slender finger from the safety of the sidelines. ¡°You have the dwarf in your corner, and fairnessss musssst be maintained.¡±


    He stretched out his scrawny limb and pointed that same finger toward the crowd. I turned to see the beastling standing on the sidelines, arms folded across his chest and a smug shit-eating grin on his extremely punchable face.


    ¡°Awww crap!¡± I announced. I wanted revenge, but I¡¯d often found that revenge was a dish best served one course at a time. My concern only fueled the bastards look of smug satisfaction.


    But oh well. there was no point crying over my soon-to-be-spilt innards. I was a level 2 swordsman now, dammit. Errrr¡­ with no sword, admittedly. And yes, the stipulation was unarmed combat, something that should have evened the playing field a bit. But in a ¡®no weapons¡¯ duel, the beastling would have an obvious advantage over me, thanks to those damned claws of his.


    ¡°What¡¯s yer strategy now,¡± Sun Tzu?¡± snarked the dwarf.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to deal with this like I¡¯ve dealt with every other problem in my life,¡± I declared. ¡°By punching it. Really really hard.¡±


    Samusk groaned. I was about to remind him that he hadn¡¯t suggested anything better, when I was pulled from my thoughts by a commotion that was growing in the crowd. Bodies were parting, the beastling included. I gasped as a towering figure pushed his way to the front. If he was a barbarian, he was a barbarian by way of his daddy¡¯s dalliances with an ogre, his hulking form easily towering two heads above my own. Having confidently strode into the center of the ¡®arena¡¯ he roared, beating his chest with a pair of fists that were each easily the size of my avatar¡¯s head.


    ¡°This issss our latesssst recruit,¡± announced the smug half-orc. ¡°Being new to the brotherhood, he¡¯ssss understandably very keen to prove his worth, so my beasssstling friend has graciously agreed to ssssit this one out and let the new boy take his place. Ssssay hello to our little friend¡­ TinyTheTankEngine.¡±


    You have got to be fucking kidding me.


    Alas, they weren¡¯t. And as the bastard lovechild of Conan the Barbarian and Andre the giant loomed over me, I had to admit: I might have bitten off more than I can chew.

 Chapter 9.2

    All around me, those who¡¯d wagered in my favor were now desperately attempting to cancel their bets. To be perfectly honest, I didn¡¯t blame them. I didn¡¯t like my chances against the barbarian behemoth either. The rogue had been an opponent that I¡¯d imagined I could take in a straight-up fight. But with the new arrival, this was no longer a duel. Somewhere along the way, it had become an elaborate form of suicide.


    Gary279 was cackling like a madman from the sidelines. I silenced him with an accusing finger.


    ¡°You claimed that the barbarian was here to even the odds. But the dwarf is clearly a noncombatant. Are you so afraid of losing that you had to handicap me? Or are you simply suggesting that this is the caliber of opponent your new recruit is worthy of.¡±


    Now it was Tiny who threw an accusing glance toward the sneaky half-orc. The barbarian¡¯s spokesman had committed a P.R blunder and offended his new champion in the process. Of course, I was perfectly happy to capitalize on that to make them both look as bad as possible, starting a chant of ¡®Tiny the dwarf-slayer¡¯ that the ruckus crowd were more than happy to partake in.


    Realizing that his comrade was in danger of losing it (and now just as likely to attack the crowd as their intended target) the rogue rushed over to the half-orc and whispered something in his pointed ear. The spokesman smiled, petitioned the crowd for calm, then spoke again.


    ¡°Pffft. Very well. Perhapssss we can find another way that the dwarf can be of sssservice. My cell could use a new footstool, for a sssstart. Of coursssse, that leaves one ssssmall problem still to be addressssed¡­ the challenge has already been accepted, and our champions musssst be met in combat. But asss you kindly pointed out, the Brotherhood believes in fairnessss. Ssssince your partner isn¡¯t up to the task, you are free to make a ssssubstitution. If you can find ssssomeone foolish enough to sssside with you, that issss.¡±


    Shit. Not the evening of the odds I¡¯d hoped for, admittedly. I frantically scanned the crowd for a familiar face, anyone who looked like they might be prepared to assist me. Like those guys from the boss raid, for example. Surely they owed me, and bigtime. But I hadn¡¯t spotted them earlier, and I didn¡¯t see them now. In the movies, this was the moment when some brave soul would step forward to stand by the underdog¡¯s side, putting it all on the line for no other reason than their willingness to do the right thing. But these were not the heroes their avatars were based on. They were career criminals, like me. And while I imagined that many of them truly were on a path to redemption, this roadblock was a lot to expect any of them to overcome, especially on a stranger¡¯s behalf.


    Meanwhile a few yards behind me, the half-orc was making grand declarations, planting seeds in the minds of the baying crowds: suggestions that my failure to find a substitute would be tantamount to forfeit, leaving the rabble no option but to dole out my original fate. I turned to Samusk for guidance, but the little bastard had retreated to the relative safety of the crowd, not even waiting to see if I found help before leaving my vulnerable side.


    Becoming desperate, I scanned the crowd for a sign of the apprentice. He had been kind to me, yes, but would that kindness extend to making my enemies his? And on that note, was it even fair of me to impose on my fellow noob¡¯s good nature to such a degree? Anyway, even if he wanted to help, what could he hope to achieve against this monstrosity?


    Noobslayer had a vested interest in my survival, and at level 6, he could easily turn the odds in my favor. Granted, he was a swordsman, like me, and this was a straight up brawl. But I couldn¡¯t imagine that he got to level 6 without picking up a few extra combat skills along the way.


    Alas, the question as to whether either would assist me was a moot one. There was no sign of the apprentice in the crowd, or of the vice-loving Knight. Ironically, the sheer length of time Samusk had spent surveying the room for potential allies had given mine ample time to leave.


    But then I saw a face that I did recognize, and an idea struck me. I didn¡¯t need one of the players who had simply had their fill then left. What I needed, was a bad-ass who had hung around long enough for seconds.


    ¡°You,¡± I declared for all to hear, pointing an outstretched arm at the female half-orc who¡¯d harassed me earlier. ¡°You seem keen to prove your mettle to everyone assembled. Will you join me in my task?¡±


    The now familiar quest window appeared before her.


    ¡°Drop dead, human,¡± she growled, flicking it closed again. The exchange was met with a chorus of snickers, but that was a good thing. The crowd¡¯s reaction to our exchange would be very important.


    ¡°Sorry, I grinned, holding up both arms in mock apology, ¡°I should¡¯ve realized, you only pick on the weaker players, don¡¯t you?¡± adding: ¡°My apologies, fair lady. I¡¯ll leave you to pick your own fights in future, so as not to cause you any further embarrassment.¡±


    Laughter erupted from the crowd as I verbally bitch-slapped the aggressive orc. Admittedly, it felt good. One unwise soul, a swordsman who had the poor judgement to laugh right in the burnee¡¯s face, promptly received a punch in the throat for his foolishness. This comical exchange invoked even more merriment from the rowdy crowd. Oh, except for the target of my insult: the half-orc was seething.


    ¡°Stop wastin¡¯ our time foolin¡¯ with the filthy h¡¯orc coward and fight me,¡± demanded Tiny, his voice as monstrous as his hulking frame.


    The demand sent a shiver through me, but I noticed that Gary also seemed to cringe at the barbarian¡¯s choice of words. Then I found myself remembering what Mai had said during my avatar selection: h¡¯orc was the game¡¯s derogatory term for half-orc¡¯s. Perhaps his ¡®brotherhood¡¯ was no longer the orc-inclusive environment he¡¯d thought it to be. That pleased me. The spokesman was now trapped in the same gang as this orc-aphobic monster, a cage of his own making, perhaps? That would be fitting. Maybe the rabble¡¯s open-door policy would be its downfall, in the end.


    While Gary remained quiet, my mark did not let the comment slide so easily. In fact, it was the final nudge she¡¯d needed. She casually stepped over the writhing body of the gasping swordsman who¡¯d slighted her, deliberately crushing the fingers of his sword-hand in the process, and defiantly stepped into the circle. I prayed that it wasn¡¯t to get in line behind the rogue and the barbarian.


    S¡¯haruk runs from no challenge,¡± she declared, turning to me and adding, ¡°the big one is mine.¡± I smiled and nodded. I was more than happy with that allocation of opponents. Then she leaned in closer, whispering in my ear in a low guttural growl: ¡°damn you, human. When all of this is over, I¡¯m going to liquidize you.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°If there¡¯s enough of me left, you¡¯re welcome to stomp me into tomorrow¡¯s stew,¡± I replied. ¡°But one thing at a time, eh? I¡¯m ah¡­ a little bit perceptually challenged, at the moment. I don¡¯t suppose you could read the big one¡¯s stats for me, could you?¡±


    ¡°250HP, level 2 barbarian,¡± she snapped back. To my surprise, the statement wasn¡¯t followed by the now-standard crack at my idiotic stat allocation. ¡°He has the tank attribute,¡± she continued, ¡°that means he can turn every successful defense into mana, so we¡¯d better make every strike count.


    ¡°Anything he blocks, he¡¯ll just throw right back at us,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Got it.¡±


    For a moment, I thought I noticed an odd look on S¡¯haruk¡¯s face. And then I wondered: could it actually be a look of concern? I carefully questioned her, keen to discover what was wrong.


    ¡°His max HP is too high for his level,¡± she replied. ¡°As is his strength. He must have an unusually high resilience stat. That or an item that boosts his strength artificially.¡±


    ¡°He was forcefully leveled down, that¡¯s why his stats are so uneven,¡± came a mystery voice from the crowd. Tiny turned to address it, seething.


    ¡°You shut the fuck up, you don¡¯t know what the hell you¡¯re talkin¡¯ about.¡±


    ¡°I heard about this from the chief,¡± added the guard, his stomach-wide grin spreading. ¡°Dumb bastard got himself stuck in a cavern, can you believe that? Stopped half the raid party getting into the boss chamber before the lair sealed itself. In the end, they had to kill him, just to clear a fucking path.¡±


    ¡°Lies,¡± he spat back, his oily face turning crimson. ¡°I died in battle with a mighty shadow stallion¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s the one who¡¯s lying,¡± I happily confirmed. ¡°I was there, and I¡¯d have noticed this big bastard. I¡¯d have used him to hide behind, for a start.¡±


    ¡°The moron dropped a level and got the boot, why else would he hook up with a pathetic rabble like that?¡± continued the first voice, the anonymous heckler¡¯s words only serving to stoke the big man¡¯s fury. Under different circumstances, I wouldn¡¯t have minded the distraction. But the behemoth was getting more and more livid, and I did not want to find a new role as the barbarian¡¯s squishy stress toy.


    ¡°At least we know he can die,¡± I whispered, nervously.


    ¡°They all die when I¡¯m finished with them,¡± replied the half-orc. And you know what? I believed her.


    ¡°I heard that you h¡¯orc whore,¡± spat our enraged opponent, as the rogue attempted to hold him back. ¡°I¡¯m going to enjoy taking your pelt and addin¡¯ it to my collection. Yeah, that¡¯s right, bitch. I won¡¯t finish when yer dead. Orc-skin fetches a good price, what wiv its anti-magical properties¡­ even the skin of a watered-down bitch like you will make good leather fer armor.¡±


    At this point, the rogue interjected. ¡°You know¡­ an assassin with magical resistance could be a wizard¡¯s worst nightmare¡­ if you were to facilitate such an enhancement to my avatar, I could easily pay you back with the proceeds¡­¡±


    Hmmm. Someone isn¡¯t so wary of killing the other prisoners as he used to be. That didn¡¯t take long.


    ¡°No problem,¡± he beamed, shaking the rogue¡¯s hand. ¡°I could easily fit yer scrawny little rogue avatar in that bulky bitches hide. Probably have enough left over to make myself a pair of gloves, too. Jus¡¯ make sure yer buddies grab the body the moment she falls. The trick is to skin ¡®em as soon as yeh kill ¡®em, before they get the chance to respawn.¡± He turned back to us, and bellowed: ¡°You hearin¡¯ all this, yeh ugly h¡¯orc? Your hides gonna buy me a new battle-axe.¡±


    S¡¯haruk scowled. With that, she sent me a request. I opened it and read the following¡­


    NEW QUEST ¨C Kick the shit out of the barbarian.


    S¡¯haruk has asked you to form a temporary alliance, to help ensure that user TinyTheTankEngine dies as brutally and painfully as possible.


    Goal: Kill the tank.


    Type of quest ¨C One off.


    Reward: A potential reprieve from suffering the same fate at the hands of S¡¯haruk.


    Rep effect ¨C Neutral, but has the potential to increase your standing with the half-orc warrior.


    Warning: An alliance will give each member full access to the other warrior¡¯s stats.


    Accept Y/N?


    As much as she disliked me, I could clearly see where her true hatred lay. That meant that where motivation was concerned, I couldn¡¯t have chosen better. Every time Tiny opened his mouth, he only served to cement our alliance. I hit ¡®yes¡¯ and the warrior¡¯s stats began to flood my status panel.


    USERNAME: S¡¯HARUK


    PRIMARY SKILL: ORCAN BRAWLER ¨C LEVEL 2


    PERCENTAGE REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 12%


    Rep: -33/30


    HP: 200/200


    Mana: 0/0


    Alliances: None.


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 6 (Cap 7)


    Agility: 2 (Cap 2)


    Speed: 2 (Cap 2)


    Stamina: 5 (Cap 5)


    Resilience: 5 (Cap 5)


    Accuracy: 1 (Cap 1)


    Defence: 3 (Cap 3)


    Armed combat: 1 (Cap 1)


    Unarmed combat: 4 (Cap 4)


    Carrying capacity: 2 (Cap 2)


    INTANGIBLE STATS -


    Magical attack: 0 (Cap 0)


    Perception: 4 (Cap 4)


    Charisma: 0 (Cap 1)


    Disguise: 0 (Cap 0)


    Luck: 0 (Cap 1)


    Healing: 0 (Cap 0)


    Mana generation: 0 (Cap 0)


    Leadership: 0 (Cap 2)


    Homemaking: 0 (Cap 1)


    So close to level 3. Oh well, still impressive. Particularly the way she¡¯d raised most of her physical stats to their cap already.


    I looked away from the screen when I realized she¡¯d thrust something into my hand.


    -[ You have been gifted a bushel of healing herbs. ]-


    ¡­announced my status bot. I looked at the plant, then stared at the half-orc in shock.


    ¡°So that you don¡¯t die on me too soon,¡± she confirmed. ¡°I¡¯ll need you to distract the rogue while I gut the barbarian. Take it now, it should bring you closer to full health.¡±


    As I chewed through the fowl-tasting herb, I had to admire my new ally¡¯s focus on getting the job done. I¡¯d goaded her into this, and had imagined that she¡¯d be too pissed with me to even think of sharing tactics, much less to give me her precious healing herbs, or access to her stats. But then I hardly gave her much choice, did I?


    My HP rose to 88/90, and I suddenly felt a lot more confident. It was still far from a fair fight, but at least I now had a fighting chance. S¡¯haruk meanwhile, continued to brief me, this time on the level and HP of the rogue (2 and 70, respectively). There were no real surprises where he was concerned, freshly spawned as he was. But scant as the information was, it was good to know what I was up against. With my HP restored, and the rogue unable to use his weapons, I dared to contemplate that we may even have the advantage.


    If S¡¯haruk can keep the barbarian occupied long enough for me to kill the rogue, that is.


    Meanwhile, the rogue was playing a similar role, giving his colossal tag-team partner a run-down of the unexpected new player. Tiny seemed unconcerned.


    ¡°I ain¡¯t afraid of no stinkin¡¯ halfbreed,¡± spat the behemoth, ¡°let¡¯s get this fight started, already.¡±


    As Gary sought confirmation that the bookies had taken all their bets (and reminded them of the rabbles entitlement to a cut, being the fights facilitators), I noticed that the beastling was leaving, pushing his way through the otherwise transfixed crowd. Why would he of all people want to miss the opportunity to see me get ground into noob paste? Unless¡­ shit, unless he had something even more satisfying planned.


    I recalled what Samusk had said earlier about prisoners waiting at a player¡¯s respawn point to finish the job. And then I remembered that my cell door was open. There and then I understood the importance of belonging to a gang: I had no one to help guard my respawn point. That meant that I didn¡¯t just stand to lose a level if this fight went awry. The beastling bastard was planning to level me out.


    I tried to voice my concerns to Samusk: hoping, nay, praying that he could find NoobSlayer in time, talk him into guarding my respawn point until the fight was over. But I¡¯d lost the dwarf in the sea of baying warriors. Was he even still here? I wondered.


    ¡°Swordsnoob, move your ass,¡± came a guttural cry from my reluctant ally.


    And with that, it was too late to do anything about the beastling. The fight had begun.

 Chapter 9.3

    Without a moment¡¯s pause, the barbarian charged me. I tried to dodge his impending mass, but only received yet another stern reminder that a player¡¯s physical appearance meant very little when it came to deciphering the stats hiding behind the avatar. The hulking warrior moved with a speed that I would never have imagined a man of his bulk possessing. In a flurry of movement, his club-like arm smashed against my windpipe, close-lining me clean off my feet as he barreled past me to engage my inhuman class ally.


    -[ You have been stunned by a crushing blow. Length of effect: 5 seconds. ]-


    -[ Barbarian struck you for -15HP. ]-


    Not for the first time today, I was staring at the ceiling. Worse, my arms and legs weren¡¯t responding, my connection to my avatar severed by the ¡®stunned¡¯ debuff. Now I knew how that raid party had felt. It was only a five-second penalty, but as the sounds of S¡¯haruk engaging the behemoth rang out behind me it felt like an eternity.


    The bastard was just softening me up for his mate, I quickly realized. Maybe he¡¯s smarter than he looks. Granted, the table I was sitting at earlier is probably smarter than he looks too, so that isn¡¯t saying much¡­


    To my relief, the rogue was just as inexperienced as I was (perhaps even more-so). He casually strode toward me as if he hadn¡¯t a care in the world, wasting the opportunity the more experienced warrior had handed him on a platter. It dawned on me that just seeing my stats wasn¡¯t enough. He was a noob too, and had yet to learn just how robust 4 points of resilience made a guy. I was more than happy to show him, and the look on his face when I returned to my feet was priceless.


    I raised my guard, then quickly turned to see how my ally was faring one-on-one against the ridiculously-named ¡®Tiny.¡¯ The pair was trading punches like seasoned pit fighters, and the baying mob were cheering them on with every blow. I turned back to discover that the rogue was now dangerously close, his footsteps muffled by his avatar¡¯s natural stealth. His unexpected proximity demanded my attention. I decided to give it to him as violently as possible.


    First blood was quickly claimed as his boney knuckles streaked past my guard, glancing me on the chin. The damage dealt was low, but it was more than I¡¯d accomplished, so far, and the blow stung all the more for it. We circled each other, each studying their opponent for an opening. Finding one I made my move, but it was a swing and a miss, the rogue easily dodging the blow. My defense left wide open, another jab found its way to my avatar, this time shaving a few HP from my unprotected back. As the rogue picked away at me, I realized that the status updates were a distraction I could really do without, and that by simply willing it, I could switch the voice in my head to ¡®essential updates only.¡¯ That would do me just fine, I decided. I could feel every blow, so I didn¡¯t need a damn play-by-play. Not unless things got really bad.


    Paired against the rogue, I¡®d assumed an easy win, chiefly because of my strength advantage. But what the scrawny fighter lacked in power, he more than made up for in both speed and unarmed combat technique. He was good. Too good. Just as my swordsman skill programmed me to fight with a blade, I reasoned that he must have an unarmed combat skill that supplemented his own experience. Speed and agility only served to make him harder to hit, and my inability to land a punch began to draw heckles from the crowd.


    Frustrated, I lashed out, throwing the entirety of my strength behind a punch intended to take the cocky bastards head clean off his shoulders. But as I lashed out, he dodged yet again, grabbing my arm. From there he swung behind me and hoisted both my arms into a full nelson, yanking them up to my head where they could do even less damage. Struggling (but ultimately powerless) I watched as yards away, the shit-brick-house of a barbarian delivered a brutal headbutt to my half-orc ally, dropping her to one knee. How I wished I could read their HP, to tell at a glance if we were making an impact on the opposing team at all. I couldn¡¯t even see how S¡¯haruk was holding up: my newfound access to the half-orc¡¯s stats didn¡¯t mean shit if I couldn¡¯t reach my status panel to view them, so my only indicator of her health was the thick black blood that was now pouring from her (possibly broken) nose. That, and the alarming lack of crimson that adorned her opponent¡¯s avatar, by comparison.


    Not to be outdone, one of the rogue¡¯s legs suddenly hooked my own, pulling them out from under me as he simultaneously drove my unprotected head forward, slamming it into the granite floor. With a roll and a spread of his arms to welcome the crowd¡¯s appreciation, my aggressor leapt to his feet, drinking in the cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd. Bloodied and dazed, I slowly struggled to raise my face from the crimson imprint, just in time to see his scrawny avatar loom over me.


    ¡°You know what really pisses me off about this place?¡± he began in an oddly conversational tone, whilst his boot found its way into my unguarded ribs. ¡°It¡¯s next to impossible to leave a scar on someone. They just respawn, all shiny and new...¡±


    I¡¯d only just registered the strike when his boot came down on me again, this time to the back of my head. Face and granite were reacquainted in a violent burst of crimson, leaving me dazed and bloodied. I instinctively rolled onto my back, swearing not to offer the assassin such a vulnerable target again. Staring up at him through the crimson mask that now poured from my brow and onto my chest, I realized that he was pointing to his own forehead.


    ¡°¡­that¡¯s why you¡¯ve got to savor these moments,¡± he continued, his grin almost maniacal. ¡°Create precious memories for your fellow prisoners, so they understand the dangers of crossing you. I¡¯m going to build my reputation on your corpse, swords-noob. Oh, and when you respawn back in your cell, don¡¯t forget to say hello to my hairy frie-¡±


    His cocky monologue was cut off mid-sentence, as the hulking mass of Tiny¡¯s avatar came tumbling into him, back-first. Its appearance was followed by that of the half-orc, who promptly dragged me back to my feet. She looked like hell.


    ¡°Change of tactics,¡± she announced with a growl. ¡°We¡¯re switching opponents.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re what!¡± I gasped. ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t need to,¡± she snapped, ¡°but I was convinced that you¡¯d have killed the fucking rogue by now.¡± There was an unquestionable accusation in her voice. ¡°I¡¯m going to take him off the board, freeing us to double-team the real threat,¡± she added, before charging my staggered opponent.


    The rogue, who was only just returning to his feet, stared in horror as he realized what was happening. Unable to move in time, the half-orc rattled his jaw with a sickening punt kick. Then she turned her gaze back upon me, raising an arm to point at the hulking barbarian. He was already back to his feet.


    ¡°Just keep him busy for me. This won¡¯t take long.¡±


    Keep him busy, she says. It¡¯s like David and Goliath. And me without my sling¡­


    Tiny turned to re-engage his orcan opponent, so I charged him just to ensure I had his attention, throwing in an embarrassing attempt at a battle-cry for good measure. I swear I could feel the gathered masses cringing. Not that I had time to worry about that: I was charging at a bloodthirsty barbarian who easily had twice my body mass, so I had other things on my mind. Not dying, being pretty high up the list.


    Spying my approach, he swung his huge arm like a lariat, hoping to knock me clean off my feet. I ducked as the powerful limb whooshed overhead, clearing the top of my head by barely an inch. I opted not to strike. I wasn¡¯t trying to give him a stationary target. All I had to do was buy my reluctant ally time to finish the rogue so we could take the big bastard down together.


    Easier said than done. My speed stat was high for my level, but as I¡¯d learned the hard way at the beginning of the fight, he was surprisingly nimble, given his size. As he chased me around like a cartoon cat chasing a mouse, his huge fists taking the place of the mallet, I was relieved to learn that our stamina appeared to be about equal. Perhaps my uneven stat allocation wasn¡¯t all bad: it was keeping me alive, for a start.


    As I did my damndest to wear the warrior out, I heard the rogue screaming, and the grinding of something distinctly bone-like. It sounded promising, but I couldn¡¯t afford to get distracted. Distracted was dead.


    Incidentally, so was the rogue. The scream was promptly followed by another, and it was a howling like the gates of hell itself had opened. I turned just in time to see the smarmy rogue scream his last, and boy, was it ever satisfying. He was laying on his side with the half-orcs foot planted firmly on his ribs, her weight pressing down on him as she gripped his wrist and bicep, pulling his arm toward her. At first glance I thought she was wrenching the poor bastard¡¯s arm at the wrist, but it was much, much worse. With a mighty heft, she drove his body flat to the floor and pulled, literally ripping his arm away from the socket in a bloody trail of sinew. His face a picture of sheer trauma, the rogue was bleeding like nothing I¡¯d ever encountered. His rampant blood loss was a damage over time effect, but as the crimson flooded from his avatar, I knew that he¡¯d be lucky to last the minute, let alone the fight. The crowd went apeshit as S¡¯haruk roared and tossed the gruesome souvenir into the crowd, their bloodlust more than satisfied. And a fist the size of my head buried itself deep into my stomach, knocking every scrap of air from my avatar, and cracking a rib in the process.


    Stupid. What was that I said about getting distracted?


    I fell to the floor, willing the air back into my body and coughing it back out again at every opportunity. Bringing up my status menu as I staggered a retreat, I took small comfort in the fact that I wasn¡¯t dead yet. 18/90HP. I¡¯d left myself open, and I had no doubt that the pumped-up powerhouse could easily have ended me. Why I wondered, was I still breathing? Well, trying to, at any rate.


    Through half-blurred vision I realized that my ally had instinctively crossed the ¡®arena¡¯ to join my side. Powerless to help her, I watched Tiny lift S¡¯haruk like a ragdoll and choke-slam her to the ground, her vulnerable spine hitting granite with an impact that would easily have finished me, had I been in her place.


    A wrestling fan. That was all I bloody needed. Of course, it probably made sense. All he was missing was the face paint to go with his Ultimate Warrior-like steroid-bod and bad 80¡¯s hairdo.


    One thing couldn¡¯t be questioned: S¡¯haruk had saved me, and it was time to return the favor. I unsteadily returned to my feet and clenched my fists. Like I did when facing the goblins, I prayed that my real-life experience would somehow compensate for my piss-poor unarmed combat stat. Oh, and that I would last a lot longer than my ballsed-up-in-general stat allocation gave me any actual right to. I¡¯d faced down a shadow stallion, for fuck¡¯s sake. And S¡¯haruk needed me.


    Try not to think of it as an opportunity to get your shit kicked in, I assured myself. Try to think of it as an opportunity to level up.


    The bastard was pressing his knee into the fallen half-orc¡¯s chest, pinning her with his considerable weight. He was offering to skin her without killing her, if she threw in the towel and conceded to his superiority. Right there and then, I knew I had to end this sick fuck. But then a status message rang out, and I realized there was something important that I that had to do first.


    -[ User: Garak (level 2 rogue) has died. Congratulations, as a member of the alliance responsible, you have received a reward. XP gained: Resilience: 20. Unarmed combat: 10. XP until next unarmed combat level: 75. XP until next resilience level: 70. Max HP +10. Max MP +10. Mana gain: +10. ]-


    My share of the spoils was small, and that was perfectly understandable: S¡¯haruk had done most of the heavy lifting, after all. But I was happy to take what I could get, and even happier to think that the rogue had just been demoted back down to level 1. Better again, his lifeless corpse now presented me with an opportunity.


    I staggered across the now blood-drenched arena and took a moment to apply my rolled-back, yet oddly present thievery skill to the rogue¡¯s bloody carcass. The skill was sitting at zero (thanks to my earlier respawn) but my unusually gross look-crate was dead, and powerless to resist my efforts. If I couldn¡¯t pick his pocket, I reasoned, then surely there was no point in having the dubious skill at all.


    I observed that unlike the tank I¡¯d robbed earlier, this player had nothing on his physical person, besides the clothing on his back. And much as I could use that (my nipples had already been on display much too long for my liking) there was something else that I was much more interested in. I placed my hand into his pocket, hoping the symbolic gesture would activate the menu I needed. And bingo, to my excitement a new status panel opened up before me. It was his inventory, and it was ripe for the plundering.


    ¡°No weapons allowed, remember,¡± cried the orc, in case I was getting any funny ideas. I was, but not that one.


    I knew full well that pulling out a weapon to end our remaining opponent would be a forfeit, an act that would once again leave me at the mercy of the entire rabble. So, I began by opening the rogue¡¯s ¡®miscellaneous items¡¯ tab. To my relief the item I sought was there, just as I¡¯d hoped it would be: the bushel of healing herbs the bastard had stolen from me earlier. No doubt stunned by the trauma of having his arm forcefully removed at the shoulder, he¡¯d been unable to use them himself. And that would be my gain.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    To my satisfaction, ¡®stealing¡¯ the item was a simple matter of dragging and dropping it into my own inventory.


    -[ Item acquired: Healing herbs. Replaces 60% of the player¡¯s full health instantly. Durability: 1/1 ]-


    -[ You have reacquired the thievery skill, level I. XP required to reach level II, 100. Rep penalty: Neutral. You have reacquired an item that was originally stolen from you, a perfectly acceptable act. Warning: thievery is generally an immoral act, and your reputation may drop if this skill is put to ill gain. ]-


    As I chewed the herbs, a very welcome status message confirmed my return to two-thirds health.


    Nice one.


    Taking full advantage of my ¡®ethical¡¯ thievery skill, I moved my dagger and ankle-strap back to my inventory. I couldn¡¯t use them for this fight, but I had a feeling I¡¯d be needing them, soon enough. Each act bumped up my ¡®thievery¡¯ XP, but not to the extent of the initial act. Having taken everything the rogue possessed that had once belonged to me, I decided to press my luck, taking the rogue¡¯s choke wire and his own superior dagger, reasoning that I was owed the items in exchange for my stolen sword. The lack of a rep penalty seemed to suggest the system agreed with me, so I pressed my luck further, taking his last remaining item: a battered looking ring that had no doubt been swiped from some other unfortunate victim of the sneaky player. Once it was in my inventory, I could ¡®read¡¯ its information, despite my zero perception. I immediately did so, praying that the unassuming looking item could help me in my duel.


    -[ Analise: Ring of the Rising Alpha. Crafted by a warlock to afford his beastling pet a modicum of leadership ability, this item can be used to raise a beastling¡¯s leadership stat by +5, granting them dominance over the rest of the pack. The effect on other species is limited, typically a leadership bonus of +2. Item durability 46/100. ]-


    So, the rogue had an item that could seriously benefit beastling buddy, yet he still kept it for himself. The revelation hardly surprised me. To the best of my knowledge, the item wouldn¡¯t help me much in this fight. But with a ¡®zero¡¯ hovering in my own leadership column, it made for a nice little piece of compensation, just the same. I wasn¡¯t sure how leadership affected the other players, exactly. But if charisma was anything to go by, it definitely had the potential to prove useful, down the line.


    Returning my focus to the one-sided battle, I got to my feet and charged at the behemoth with a suicidal lunge, throwing everything I had into a devastating right cross. Or I imagine it would have been devastating, if it had connected. It didn¡¯t get close. A huge leg was raised to block me, the flat of the boot catching me square in the chest. Then with a powerful extension of his leg, the barbarian powered me backward and onto my ass.


    The sequence of events at least drew him away from S¡¯haruk, but it also drew laughter from our audience. The blow had only cost me minimal HP, but killing me hadn¡¯t been the bastard¡¯s intention. He wanted me humiliated. And he¡¯d succeeded. I was on my back again, ready for him to deliver the killing blow.


    Pain lanced through my systems as I felt an elbow land on my ribs, backed up by the crushing weight of the barbarian¡¯s avatar.


    Was that a fucking elbow drop? Seriously. If I look up and he¡¯s strutting for the crowd, I¡¯m grabbing a fucking chair to wallop him with¡­


    He wasn¡¯t, oddly enough, but his praise-seeking gestures to the crowd made for a similar display. As I lay there hugging my ribs, I quickly realized something about my opponent. This wasn¡¯t a real fight for him. It was little more than an opportunity to show off. A way to increase his rep with a public display of violence, much like the half-orc had done with me, but on an infinitely larger scale. His new gang had offered me up as a sacrifice to their chosen one, even pointing out my weaknesses to help him on his way, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth, like a dirty heel wrestler who wanted the crowd to know just how dangerous he was.


    That was when I had a flashback to my old life, one of the memories that hadn¡¯t been stolen from me. I¡¯d spent my Sunday mornings watching wrestling with my little brother. And when the bad guy started to get cocky, they always spent too much time preening to the baying audience to notice the rallying underdog as he attempted to make his comeback. I was the underdog in this battle. So why the hell was I wasting this opportunity by lying on my damn back?


    I made my move to get to my feet. The naive strategy was promptly cut short by a left hook that immediately floored me. It was followed by a brutal stomp to my chest. Just like that, half the HP I¡¯d gained from the herbs was gone.


    ¡°Hear me, fellow warriors¡­¡± bellowed my opponent, addressing the crowd with my chest as a soapbox.


    What the hell? Is he stopping to cut a fucking promo?


    ¡°For too long, the Brotherhood has been overlooked,¡± he continued. ¡°Hobbled by the very thing it once lauded as its strength¡­ its lack of leadership.¡±


    It is a fucking promo. And if his newfound eloquence is anything to go by, there¡¯s no way in hell he wrote that himself.


    ¡°That is why I, TinyTheTankEngine, am claiming leadership of the Brotherhood.¡±


    No, it¡¯s more than a promo, I realized. It¡¯s a power play. And we¡¯re little more than an opportunity to show off his credentials.


    He looked down at me, mockingly asking me why I looked so ¡®pissed.¡¯ Then, having set up his next action with a crappy pun, he slowly began to unfasten his loin-piece.


    Oh, fuck no¡­


    The tank¡¯s boot was pinning me to the floor, so I had no way to escape the humiliation that followed. The crowd roared.


    -[ You have lost reputation due to an act of public humiliation in front of your peers. Rep -1 ]-


    By the time the unpleasantly warm shower ended, I wanted to kill the man responsible. The bastard had just lengthened my sentence, taking me one-point further from my goal. With that one childish act, he¡¯d cost me my rep gain from my role in assisting the raid party. The old me would have put him in a coma for less. I swore to myself that regardless of how this fight ended, the sick fuck was going to pay, reputation be damned. But for now, as I struggled underneath his boot, I could only think of only one way to hit him where it hurt.


    ¡°At least we finally know why they call you tiny, eh,¡± I announced with a defiant smirk.


    The audience again erupted into fits of laughter. ¡®Tiny¡¯ didn¡¯t join them, oddly enough. In a heartbeat, his expression went from one of cocky satisfaction to the definition of absolute fury.


    Oops.


    Without another word he ground his heel into me, stealing a hefty chunk of my remaining HP in the process. Enduring the pain, I prayed I¡¯d done enough to wound his rep, just as he had lowered mine.


    The behemoth looked to S¡¯haruk¡¯s crumpled body, then returned his gaze to the crowd. His uncharacteristically statesman-like demeanor was now gone, and the next words he spoke flowed all the more naturally for it.


    ¡°These two fucks were undercard at best,¡± he scoffed. ¡°But if any member of the Brotherhood wants to challenge the new boss, they¡¯re more than welcome to step up an¡¯ become the main event. I don¡¯t care how many of yeh I have to kill, yer all jus¡¯ XP to me.¡±


    As he spoke, the pressure began to lift from my chest. But I knew that only confirmed that he was done ¡®pissing¡¯ around, and readying himself to draw his massive foot back for the killing blow. My stamina had been recovering throughout, so I blocked out the pain that was lancing through my body and put all my trust in the one thing I knew that I had in spades. My strength.


    Grabbing his foot before he could withdraw it, I suddenly and violently twisted his leg, doing my best to snap the barbarian¡¯s high-booted ankle. It didn¡¯t break, but he howled in pain. Taking advantage of his unstable footing, I wrenched again, twisting him to the floor. His pained cries were music to my ears. Interestingly, they were the only sound that could be heard, the crowd no doubt stunned by what they were witnessing.


    Shambling back to my feet while maintaining my grasp, I increased my leverage, leaning in and adding pressure. It wasn¡¯t the critical hit I¡¯d hoped it would be, in that his leg wasn¡¯t damaged beyond repair. But I was dealing out damage over time¡­ if I held him in place, kept cranking on the ankle, I could continue to shave off more and more HP. And if I could keep him down until S¡¯haruk was back on her feet, then we could really do some damage. Of course, that was only if she got back to her feet. She hadn¡¯t moved for quite a while, now, and I was more than a little concerned.


    The barbarian attempted to roll, hoping to throw me off in the process, but my grip was too powerful, and my stance too strong. Alas, thanks to the dirty fuck¡¯s efforts to humiliate me, that same grip was also wet. It wasn¡¯t weakening, but it was slipping. Another jolt like that and he¡¯d be free. I was going to have to fight again. So I decided to fight dirty. I pre-empted his efforts to throw me aside, pushing his foot away and thrusting my own boot hard into his crotch.


    Again, my opponent cried out, and again I took untold pleasure from his pain. A few rapid boots to his sword-and-two-shields ensured he stayed down: he now lay before me on his back, his huge hands instinctively cupping his besieged body-part. So that was when I dove on him. If my real-life experience had taught me anything, it was that no matter how big or muscular your opponent was, there was one other area that no amount of training was ever going to build up. His guard was low, so I threw the full force of my avatar behind my fist burying it deep into his throat.


    Weary but exhilarated, I smugly watched the barbarian gasp for air. I¡¯d impressed myself. And I must have impressed the system, too, because¡­


    -[ You have acquired your first base point in the unarmed combat skill. Rank I. XP required to reach rank II, 98. ]-


    Yes. for the first time since it began, I felt like I actually had a chance of winning this brawl. And yeah, maybe I was getting ahead of myself. My next punch was easily blocked by my opponent as he grabbed my fist, dwarfing it in his powerful crushing hand. He took a small moment to flash me a shit-eating grin, before punching me square in the face with his free hand.


    I fell back, instinctively rolling to put distance between myself and my enemy while attempting to shrug off the disorientation caused by the blow. But he held fast to my fist, preventing my escape, and the shortened distance was easily closed. The barbarian pounced on me, pinning me to the floor by the neck with one hand, and ominously raising the other in a fist. I could see it in his eyes. He was ready to end me.


    From there, blow after blow rained down, the effect of the herbs quickly neutralized. An alert advised me that my HP was now critical. Then without warning, the alerts stopped.


    -[ You have been stunned by a sequence of blows to the head. Length of effect: 1 minute. ]-


    Forget that, why am I not dead, already?


    In the periphery of my vision, I spied my answer. S¡¯haruk was finally back in the fight, and she was spearing Tiny¡¯s avatar like a fantasy-themed NFL player. She¡¯d grabbed his leg, hoisted him into the air, and brought him crashing down on the back of his neck, all in one impressive fluent motion. She didn¡¯t hesitate to press the advantage, laying in vicious stomps to the barbarian¡¯s head. To my surprise, he didn¡¯t even attempt to shield himself.


    He¡¯s stunned, I realised, being more than familiar with the debuff myself.


    But it wasn¡¯t over. The half-orc¡¯s stamina was flagging, no doubt due to the amount of damage her own avatar had sustained. Her kicks were still powerful, but noticeably slower. Worse, her fallen foe was beginning to cover up his head with his arms. He was coming out of the debuff already.


    Thankfully, so was I. With everything I had left, I pounced on the barbarian¡¯s trunk-like legs, trapping them in a bear-hug. There was more to strength than landing punches, and this was the exact strategy the goblins had used on me earlier, back at Siriso¡¯s hut. I¡¯d never imagined that I could learn something useful from that lopsided battle, but here I was, giving it my best shot. Clamping his legs with my impressive strength stat, I had the barbarian grounded, leaving him vulnerable to S¡¯haruk¡¯s slow but brutal stomps. My strength was vital to our strategy. Finally, my unevenly distributed stats were paying off.


    The half-orc let out a howl of pleasure as the stricken barbarian¡¯s head began to bleed, his forehead now busted open. Within seconds, he had a crimson mask to match my own.


    We¡¯re actually going to win this, I dared to propose, albeit to myself.


    ¡°Puppets¡± yelled a panicked voice, as (without any prior warning), the crowd descended into chaos around us. I tried to turn my head toward a possible source, but felt the impact of a clubbing blow to the back of my head before I could begin to figure out what was happening. Dazed by the blow, my grip on the barbarian relaxed and fell away.


    When my eyes refocused a few seconds later, it was to a very different scene. The lone demonic guard was standing over the bloodied barbarian, guarding him against my frenzied orcan ally. She was furious, enthralled by her hallmark rage, demanding the right to finish the battle. Around them, NPC guards were dispersing the crowd, often with the aid of force.


    Shit! I guess evil Pac-man had no choice but to get involved in breaking things up, now that the jobs-worthy NPCs are on the scene.


    The crowd were not taking the presence of the NPCs lightly. Trays and chairs were being hurled into the space that had once been a makeshift arena for our battle. The crowd was mutinying like drunken sports-fans who¡¯d just been told that the main event had been unexpectedly cancelled. And technically, that was exactly what had happened. More and more guards poured in, engaging the rabble as they tried to reach Tiny. I couldn¡¯t be sure if they wanted to reach the would-be dictator to stage a rescue, or to take their revenge. Either way, the NPCs weren¡¯t having any of it, blooding the avatars of anyone who dared to advance on their position.


    I was pulled from the (admittedly enjoyable) sight of Gary279 taking a club to the back of the head by a familiar, guttural cry that could only mean the half-orc had completely lost her temper. To say that was the case would be an understatement. She was going apeshit, laying into the demon with thunderous blows, despite her obvious fatigue. Quick as a flash, the creature grabbed her powerful wrists, easily holding her in place. Then he forced them, breaking bone and causing my ally to cry out in agony.


    Just how strong is that bastard.


    Her arms broken, the half-orc spat on him in defiance. Holding her in place. his huge line of teeth began to open, revealing a snake-like tongue that slithered out and began to slowly wind itself across her squirming, bloodied avatar. The creature¡¯s eyes began to dart in all directions, as if checking to see if the other guards were watching. And then it smiled a sickening smile that was wider than the entirety of the half-orc¡¯s body, its decaying rows of teeth slowly opening as its jaw unhinged with a clack.


    No no no.


    I made to get back on my feet, to try to grab her away, but I was too weak, a combination of my dangerously low HP and flagging stamina forcing me back to the ground. I could only look on in horror as the vile tongue dragged S¡¯haruk into the maw of the creatures gaping mouth. She was swallowed in an instant, her muffled screams fading as her legs were sucked in behind her, like half-human spaghetti.


    Fuck. Me.


    As if any confirmation was needed¡­


    -[ Your alliance with S¡¯haruk has ended. Reason: your ally has died. Effect: the duel has ceased due to an unexpected stoppage. ]-


    The message was followed by¡­


    -[ Quest failed: You have been unsuccessful in your attempts to grant TinyTheTankEngine a horrible painful death. You may reattempt this quest if the original issuer agrees to an additional try. Warning: This has not affected your reputation, as the fight ended prematurely, but continued failure in this endeavor may lead to future reputation loss. ]-


    I was distracted from the words by the sight that lay before me. The horrific view of my ally being swallowed whole had left me never wanting to play Pac-man again. I suddenly felt sorry for all those poor ghosts. To my relief, it was an image that was suddenly blocked, leaving only the distant (gruesome) crunching sounds of bone and cartilage to remind me of the brutality that I had just witnessed. Another guard was looming over me, and to my relief, this one was an NPC. He didn¡¯t look at all like the prisoner-eating sort. In fact, he looked deceptively human.


    The pretend-human extended a hand toward me.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s about time,¡± I said, reaching up in response. ¡°Am I glad to see you guys. Listen, you won¡¯t believe what that big yellow bastard has ju-¡±


    The sentence went unfinished as a burst of mana left the guards fingertips, hitting me with a concussive blast before I could even register what was happening. All things considered, I should probably learn to be a little less trusting.


    And with that, everything went black again.

 The Raid Party - 6

    The campfire flickered, its pitiful flame locked in a losing battle against the crushing darkness of the surrounding dungeon. Only a few hours had passed since the raid, and already the weary party were running low on materials to convert into light and warmth. Kriabal¡¯s access to the ¡®dark flame¡¯ spell-set had been the catalyst for the campfire, igniting raw materials so that a more natural flame might take hold in its place. But the warlock¡¯s pyromancy was born of a magic designed for combat, not light or warmth, and it was far from self-sustaining. Starved of fuel, the fire was now little more than a stationary night-light, a pale substitute for the orbs of pulsing mana that had once guided their party into the darkness.


    To Nyx¡¯s frustration, the apprentice responsible for sculpting those glowing balls of mana now lacked the life-energy to fuel his own avatar, let alone his constructs. His corpse had been claimed for respawn shortly after he fell, and to her chagrin, had yet to show any sign of returning to them. Without his talents, the darkness would soon advance, extinguishing what little light they now clung to. Ordering a retreat was alas, not an option. The prize had to be guarded above all else.


    ¡°I¡¯d feel a lot more relaxed if we still had the dwarves,¡± commented one barbarian, in reference to their dead contractor¡¯s night-sight.


    ¡°You missed it while you were dicking about in the tunnel, but they¡¯re both lodged deep in that ugly bastard¡¯s stomach,¡± replied Craynor, pointing to the barely visible corpse of the slaughtered boss. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to go fish them out if you want, though. Might help the poor sods respawn faster if nothing else.¡±


    The speaker declined the offer, quietly returning to his rations. The dead beast unsettled him, and truth be told, he welcomed the impending blackness if it would spare him the sight of the grinning shadow stallion¡¯s corpse.


    ¡°Bloody dwarves,¡± continued Craynor, now turning to his leader for conversation. ¡°I told you we shoulda brought along seven of them.¡±


    The tank sniggered to himself, his laughter joined by that of a pair of sycophantic barbarians who were keen to get on the tank¡¯s good side. Nyx on the other hand was not amused by the tank¡¯s juvenile attempt at humor. His tendency to question her decisions in front of the troops (even if only in jest) was starting to get on her nerves.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have our reinforcements,¡± she eventually announced. ¡°By now, our respawned allies will have passed on news of our party¡¯s success. That means that very soon, this chamber will be swarming with life. There¡¯ll be workers to build new cells, swordsmen dissecting the ugly bastard behind us for meat, and mages aplenty to light our way forward. For now, we need only hold the lair. So be quiet and eat your rations. Allow sleep to claim you into your own personal darkness, or I¡¯ll send you there myself for peace and quiet. Tomorrow, we press on in search of loot.¡±


    The amazon¡¯s final point went down particularly well. Meals were finished up, guards were stationed, and quiet fell upon the room.


    As she tried to get comfortable on a bed of tile and stone, Nyx yearned for the comforts of her own bed. Specifically, the warmth of those she graciously shared it with: her personal harem of slaves. As a general in what was undisputedly the prisons most powerful gang, she was well paid for her efforts, and the outright ownership of the weaker inmates was by far her preferred status symbol. Frustratingly, the ¡®slavemaster¡¯ skill had not been kind to her reputation, and so she used it sparingly, only taking possession of the pretty ones: chiefly those whose level had hit zero, leaving them pitifully reliant on the protection of others. The desperate would do anything to survive, and she had quickly learned that their lack of combat ability could be made up for via other physical skills.


    Nyx had recruited many pretty things solely for the purpose of her relaxation, but as was often inevitable they were beginning to bore her. As were the artificially pumped-up torsos of her barbarian brethren. There and then, she decided that the well-built noob might make a worthy addition to her harem, if only for the sake of variety. Perhaps he would even welcome the offer, giving up the information she¡¯d instinctively intended to bleed from his him in exchange for a place in her bed. Men were laughably easy to manipulate, after all. Prisoners with few other options even more so.


    Her thoughts of pleasure were rudely interrupted by the warlocks incessant need to speak of business.


    ¡°I have a theory, whispered Kriabal, tossing his now-empty ration parcel into the fire. The bundle of leaf and string crackled and burned, consumed by the hungry flame. ¡°If you ask me, we were never supposed to start at this point of the dungeon. I think the fissure caused us to enter the arse end.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d know all about that,¡± scoffed Craynor.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± he spat, his tone curt. ¡°Think about it. We discovered a new dungeon, but walked straight into the boss lair? How often does that happen? You ask me, the fissure wasn¡¯t the real entrance. It was a bloody cheat.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°It¡¯s like running across the ceiling in Super Mario Bros to reach the warp zone,¡± piped up an excited eavesdropper, one of the recently arrived barbarians.


    ¡°Um, yeah, I guess,¡± replied the warlock. The statement was punctuated by a cough that sounded an awful lot like the word ¡®geek¡¯.


    Nyx nodded, tossing her own litter into the fire, staring into the flames as they flared up to consume it. She respected the fire. It would indiscriminately use whatever it could to sustain itself a little bit longer. Just like her.


    ¡°Your theory definitely deserves consideration,¡± she eventually announced. And it rightly did. Dungeons followed certain rules, and this incident had flown in the face of many of them. Then a thought occurred that unnerved her¡­


    ¡°Shit!¡± she exclaimed.


    ¡°Wussup boss?¡± asked Craynor, instinctively reaching for his sword.


    ¡°That means the corridors beyond this point may not be loot caches, after all. They could just as easily be the mob-filled path that was supposed to lead us here. For all we know there could even be another boss.¡±


    ¡°So what if there is?¡± declared Craynor with his usual bravado. ¡°If this is the final room of the dungeon, what lies beyond can only be weaker, right?¡±


    That much was true. But still, she knew it would be wise to bolster their numbers before proceeding.


    Damn you, Tiny, Nyx thought to herself. You¡¯re the reason I went into this fight with only half a party. And damn the spineless fuck who didn¡¯t kill you to clear the passage sooner. If G¡¯rrak hadn¡¯t slipped in and slit your throat, they¡¯d still be trying to get past you. And I¡¯d be making my way back from my respawn point.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, boss, you¡¯re grinding your teeth?¡± asked Kriabal, his apparent concern for the amazon¡¯s wellbeing immediately betrayed by his next statement: ¡°I¡¯d sell you something to take the edge off, but I¡¯m all out.¡±


    ¡°Just thinking about that fucking waste of space who almost cost us the lair,¡± she replied, sharply.


    ¡°Hmmm, Tiny. Big lad, that one. If only his brain had been in proportion, eh? Trust me, love, you were right to sever his ties to your organization. Bloody liability, that one.¡±


    She nodded. And then it dawned on her: reinforcements were on the way. Big, clumsy barbarian reinforcements who hadn¡¯t been deemed worthy of joining the first wave. With that, she shuddered at the thought of the exact same thing happening again. Once was an accident. Twice, would make her a laughing stock.


    ¡°Kriabal¡­ when the shadow stallion died, you gained a level like the rest of us, right?


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he replied, ignoring Craynor¡¯s two-fingered attempt to remind everyone that he had gained two levels. The warlock waved back his confirmation that he had personally climbed one level, then continued. ¡°So did my pet. Despite yer bloody ¡®contractor¡¯ penalty.¡±


    ¡°And your mana generation stat¡­ how high is that?¡±


    ¡°I have five stat points¡­,¡± he confirmed, unsure where all this was leading.


    ¡°That means nothing to me, I¡¯m not a fucking magic user. What I want to know is, how quickly can you recharge when you¡¯ve exhausted your full reserve?¡±


    ¡°Empty tank to full¡­ hmmmm, never timed it, but I¡¯d say about fifteen minutes, if I focus hard enough.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± she replied. ¡°Then I have a new role for you. I need you to go guard the entrance of the cave¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be daft, you¡¯ve already a pair of knuckleheads guarding the fissure. And unlike me, they haven¡¯t just been through a boss fight. Let them look after it, I need some kip for the day ahead.¡±


    ¡°I mean the other end. When the fire dies out, our guards will be left in the dark. And that¡¯s the perfect opportunity for nosey rogues and dwarves to slip in and raid our hard-won loot caches while we sleep. It makes sense to position someone on the entrance where there¡¯s enough light to see what¡¯s coming.¡±


    ¡°But why me?¡± he moaned, his voice taking on the tone of a child who really didn¡¯t want to go to school.


    ¡°A level 6 warlock and his scary-ass pet. I can¡¯t think of a better deterrent for would-be thieves, can you?¡±


    ¡°GlueFactory too? Are you kidding? Look at the size of her. Even before she leveled up, she was too big to scuttle through that cavern.¡±


    ¡°So go alone, then.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t. She¡¯s still in the early stages of dominance. If I can permanently bend her to my will, that gives me a serious power increase. But if I leave her side so soon, she might revert back to her original programming.¡±


    ¡°I guess you¡¯ll just have to widen the tunnel then, won¡¯t you?¡± Nyx replied, her own smile widening as the warlock fell into her carefully laid trap. ¡°You know force spells, right? If so, it shouldn¡¯t be a problem blasting your way through with your creepy new staff.¡±


    ¡°But blastin¡¯ rock is manual labor,¡± protested Kriabal, his voice growing increasingly whiny. ¡°I¡¯ll be at it all bloody night. I should be getting paid a separate fee for that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m paying you to go guard the entrance, how you achieve that is your own damn problem,¡± she snapped. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to bring your pet along or to leave it with us. But if it turns, I can¡¯t guarantee it won¡¯t find its way into our rations in the meantime.¡±


    Kriabal cursed the savvy businesswoman under his breath, then called GlueFactory to his side.


    ¡°What this prison needs more than anything else, is a fucking union,¡± he grumbled as he slowly got to his feet, grabbed his new staff, and begrudgingly made his way to the cavern. As he walked, he began to will mana into the weapon, the eyes of the animal skull that rested at its tip now glowing with destructive energy that begged to be unleashed. The warlock would have liked nothing more than to turn his weapon on the bitch and send her for respawn. That would take her down a peg or two, he thought, with a smile. But he was an independent contractor, and top-level gigs like this were few and far between. Besides, what Craynor would do to him afterwards didn¡¯t even bear thinking about. So he ordered the guards to stand aside and consigned himself to the task ahead. It would help grind his skills, if nothing else.


    One thing was certain: he had a long night ahead of him.

 Chapter 10

    Yup, there was no doubt about it: I was spending more time on my back than a hooker with a Black Friday sale, and I was feeling just as worn out.


    By the time consciousness decided to rejoin me, I was sprawled out in a room with no doors. It was about six feet squared, a sparse stone cell with little more than a slab for a bed, a hole in the floor for a toilet, and a battered metallic water bowl that I assumed must be for drinking from. The walls were devoid of doors or decoration, and seem to stretch infinitely into the space above me. The grim cell¡¯s light was cast from a solitary orb, as it hovered overhead without making a sound. One thing was certain: I wasn¡¯t going to be escaping this place in a hurry. Gods know how they even got me in here.


    I tried to reach into my inventory, but to my surprise, it was locked, a red error message taking the place of the usual menu screen. Was this a puzzle, I wondered? A sub-game of some kind? Were they expecting me to free myself? Perhaps I was missing some obvious clue as to my escape, all because I lacked the perception to see the loose brick in the wall, or the password etched into the shadowy corners of the cell. Of course, it was possible that such thoughts were the actual problem. Yes, this had been a game, once upon a time. But since those days, it had evolved into something much more sadistic. For all I knew, my only method of escape was to starve to death and respawn back in my cell.


    That didn¡¯t bear thinking about, so I resolved to search for clues. Hell, it wasn¡¯t like I had anything better to do.


    The search brought little success. After an hour or so spent manually inspecting every inch of my cell, I gave up, sat myself down on the cold hard bed, and reached for the bowl of water. I took the meagre concession to comfort to my lips, and drank, taking consolation in the fact that it hadn¡¯t turned out to be a piss-bowl after all. Then I turned my attention to my status screens.


    While my inventory remained locked, my information was still available to read, and I was relieved when I got around to checking my HP. Perhaps solitary had its advantages after all. My energy was finally increasing again, because (just for a change) there was no one around to forcefully knock it back out of me. I gave thanks for that small mercy.


    Another hour or so passed. An hour in which I could do little else but contemplate everything that had happened to me so far. I spent some time attempting to figure out my worker-class, oddly knowledgeable cellmate, but failed to reach a conclusion. Giving up on that, I studied my gains from the duel, cursing my lost opportunity to level up when the guards stole the win away from us. That, in turn, led me to think about S¡¯haruk. I was feeling guilty about her death. True, she¡¯d been a grade-A bitch to me, back when we¡¯d first met. But she¡¯d had my back when it counted, which was more than I could say for that coward Samusk. I recalled the way she¡¯d died, and a shiver ran through my avatar. I wouldn¡¯t wish that end on my worst enemy, let alone a sort-of frenemy. I only hoped that when she returned, she wouldn¡¯t be holding a grudge against me.


    I was distracted from this concern when suddenly, the ball of energy that danced overhead began to crackle.


    A faulty light-fitting. That¡¯s all I fucking need. If a stray spark of magic turns me into a fucking goblin, that¡¯s going to sum my day right up.


    It was not a random glitch, however. Energy was now sparking in all directions, the embers dancing across the floor as they cooled and fell dormant. As I scrambled  into the corner of the cell there was a flash of light from above me. And when my eyes finally readjusted, I was shocked to learn that I was no longer alone in my cell.


    A short figure was stood before me, but it wasn¡¯t Samusk. Hell, it wasn¡¯t even a dwarf. He was much too clean-shaven for that role, and stereotypes had to be maintained, after all. No, this individual was dressed in well-cut robes of expensive looking silk. His hair was thin and his face weary, wrinkled and adorned in a few day¡¯s growth of salt and pepper stubble.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he began, ¡°who do we have here, then?¡±


    With that statement he reached out a tiny hand, willing a panel into existence as if reaching into his own inventory. But this screen was different from any that I had seen before. This was no list of items, waiting to be selected. This was a list of players. I made to speak but he cut me off, pinching his fingers and somehow forcing my mouth to seal itself tightly shut in the process. I quickly noted that whoever he was, he had power. Having silenced me, he tutted to himself and continued to read.


    ¡°All right,¡± he finally declared, releasing his hold on my lips. ¡°Prisoner username Shade. I would assume you¡¯re a little confused as to what¡¯s going on, so I¡¯ll try to make this straightforward enough for even an inferior artificial AI like yourself to comprehend.¡±


    Artificial AI? That was what Siriso called me, back at his hut. And I supposed I was, but what did that make him? It occurred to me what I was dealing with. And to be honest, I preferred the sexy elf.


    ¡°You¡¯re another help file, aren¡¯t you?¡± I blurted out. I left the question at that, deciding that it was probably better if I kept my sexy elf fetish to myself.


    ¡°I¡¯m much more than that, you insolent sprite,¡± he rebuked, swiping the display away. ¡°Before this entire server went to hell, I was its Gamesmaster. But these days¡­ they call me the mighty Dungeon Warden.¡±


    His flat tone did not sound particularly mighty. I¡¯d even go so far as to say that he sounded bored.


    ¡°What happened to S¡¯haruk? I demanded, figuring that if anyone knew, it was the ¡®mighty¡¯ warden. ¡°Is she okay?¡±


    The little man looked genuinely taken aback by my tone, and possibly my lack of awe over his proclamation. He sighed, reached into his robe and pulled out something that looked very much like a cigar.


    ¡°Your little fight buddy?¡± he eventually replied, igniting the cigar with a click of his fingers. ¡°Dumb bitch tried to pick a fight with a demon, from what I heard. She¡¯ll probably respawn in a day or two. I know much of this world, but the intricacies of the demonic digestive system is not a subject I would care to research¡­¡±


    Ewwww. That¡¯s just gross. Now I really wanted to change the subject.


    ¡°Be thankful that I spared you that delay after your own venture into the wrong side of the food chain,¡± he continued, stopping to draw on his stogie. ¡°You were supposed to appear next to the spawning pyre. Yet somehow, you showed up in the middle of a fucking boss raid. Care to explain to me why that was?¡±


    ¡°You mean that wasn¡¯t supposed to happen?¡± I gasped.


    The Dungeon Warden studied me as if burrowing past my skin and into my very soul. Hell, for all I knew that was exactly what he was doing. Who was to say that my thoughts weren¡¯t a private server that the creepy little bastard already knew the password to. On that point, I made a mental note not to refer to him as the ¡®creepy little bastard¡¯ again.


    An uncomfortable moment silently passed between us. If the exasperated gasp of air that eventually left his avatar was anything to go by, then whatever he had been looking for, he hadn¡¯t found it.


    ¡°So, you control the game, then?¡± I enquired, nervously.


    ¡°Word of advice,¡± he began, pausing to exhale the thick smoke of his cigar. It had an odd luminosity that suggested whatever was in there, it wasn¡¯t tobacco. ¡°¡­don¡¯t call it a game. You¡¯ll just piss folks off. Once you spend a few days in this shithole, you¡¯ll come to understand that it¡¯s no game. Most games are fair, for a start.¡±


    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t have to worry about me,¡± I assured him, ¡°I intend to keep my head down and do my time. Trust me, I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to earn parole and make my way to the surface.¡± I flashed him my best smile. Admittedly, my attempt to look like a model prisoner may have been more effective if I wasn¡¯t badly bruised and sitting in solitary confinement at the time.


    ¡°Damn, if there was a naivety stat, you¡¯d be star player, son,¡± replied the Dungeon Warden, shaking his head.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°In case you didn¡¯t notice when the big hairy fuck was standing on your head earlier¡­ and yeah, I saw that, too¡­ trouble has a habit of finding folk in this place, regardless of their intentions. As for parole, do you realize how long that will take? Even if you do keep ascending and eventually earn your ¡®reincarnation¡¯, you¡¯ll be too damn old to celebrate. Your muscles will have wasted away, and your dick will be too limp to party with. Not to mention the fact that the greedy fucks running this server will have raided your savings to pay for your ¡®avatar maintenance.¡¯¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°My body can¡¯t age,¡± I protested, It¡¯s ash. When I do get out, Atonement Incorporated will have to clone me a new one.¡±


    How the hell could the ¡®mighty¡¯ one not know this?


    ¡°You honestly think they¡¯re going to go to all that expense for you?¡± he scoffed. ¡°They promised you a clone, yeah, but they didn¡¯t promise you a freshly-grown personalized meat-suit. They¡¯ll stuff you in some unclaimed slab of meat that¡¯s been wasting away in a status tube somewhere, then consider their obligations covered.¡±


    My stomach tightened. Surely he was lying. He had to be. Either way, it was a concern for waaay down the line. I had much more immediate concerns.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I get into my inventory?¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t want you stabbing yourself in the head to get back to your cushy cell, that¡¯s why.¡±


    ¡°Cushy? I¡¯d hardly go that far. Anyway, what have I done to afford a private audience with the great and powerful Dungeon Warden? I can¡¯t imagine cafeteria fights are that out of the ordinary.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s mighty Dungeon Warden to you, asshole. And don¡¯t go thinking you¡¯re anything special, neither.¡± He stopped to blow a series of smoke rings into the space between us. Then he blew an arrow through the largest one, just to show off. ¡°I have a one-to-one with every new login, sooner or later. Helps me to suss out who the potential troublemakers are going to be.¡±


    ¡°So, who better to start with than the noob who found his way into a boss chamber within two minutes of arriving, am I right?¡±


    ¡°Brains and brawn, eh? You got it in one, boy,¡± he replied with a wink, before taking another draw on his cigar.


    ¡°So, what happens next, then? Are you going to hand me some dumb-ass quest in exchange for my freedom?¡±


    The dungeon Warden rolled his eyes, before walking over to join me. He perched himself on the corner of the hard slab masquerading as a bed, pointing the cigar directly at my face.


    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake boy, I told you already. Stop treating this place like a damn game. Do you honestly think I¡¯m programmed to help you get out of here? I wouldn¡¯t give two shits if you ended up stuck here for the rest of your artificial life, if not for the amount of space you over-privileged bundles of personaware take up on my damned server.¡±


    ¡°That hardly seems fair.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be, boy. If this was a game, there¡¯d be a bunch of whining paying customers to pander to. But nowadays, I only have one master to please, and that¡¯s the CEO of Atonement Incorporated. And she seems to think that the best place to toss every scrap of abandonware is my fucking dungeon. Trust me, if I had my way, I¡¯d just release the lot of you into the slums above us, and make you their problem, not mine.¡±


    Slums? You have to be kidding me, that¡¯s our next goal? This just keeps getting better and better.


    ¡°So if you hate us so much, why are you still here, then? Did you decide to keep me company just to tell me that I¡¯m on my own? That seems a little¡­ contrary.¡±


    ¡°Professional courtesy,¡± he replied, blowing another smoke ring, this time directly into my face. ¡°The third-party developer Atonement Incorporated hired to re-purpose this dump after they bought the game over did a seriously sloppy job. They cut every corner possible to bring the job in under budget. Removing my pre-programmed need to have an introductory meeting with every single new login was deemed an unnecessary waste of manhours, it would seem. So, server save me, I have to do this. Not that I don¡¯t mind the opportunity to get away from that bastard core for a few minutes, admittedly. Believe me, we won¡¯t be meeting like this again. So, with that in mind, I¡¯d recommend that you take full advantage.¡±


    ¡°Take advantage how, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Cloud above, do I have to spell it out for you? Ask me a fucking question. You only get one though, so make it count.¡±


    ¡°Anything?¡±


    ¡°Provided it doesn¡¯t require me to access the company¡¯s private data, then yeah. So long as you swear to keep the answer to yourself, you can ask me whatever the hell you want.¡±


    I thought about this for a moment. I had a hundred questions, but most were born from my unfamiliarity with my new surroundings and would be a waste of the high ranking AI¡¯s offer. One thing troubled me more than most, and it was something I was certain the other prisoners couldn¡¯t help me with. So, I took a deep breath, and I asked it.


    ¡°Do Ascension Incorporated actually want me to succeed in beating the gam- eh, redeeming myself?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Really?¡± replied the warden, his bored expression replaced by one of shock. ¡°That¡¯s your question? Not ¡®how do I level up faster¡¯? Not ¡®is there a cheat mode?¡¯ You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t want the location of the nearest cache of hidden items?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the thing that¡¯s been playing on my mind more than anything,¡± I replied, solemnly.


    The little man looked troubled. He let out a small sigh, stubbing out his cigar on my granite bed. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to know the best way to kill a high-level monster? Or if you prefer, I could tell you were to find a set of armor with stats that you wouldn¡¯t believe¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to know what I need to prepare for,¡± I replied, sticking to my guns. And I¡¯m hearing a lot of theories that this place is rigged so that we can¡¯t win. I was already having my own doubts about the corporation¡¯s intentions when I reluctantly handed them the keys to my code, and you¡¯ve only added to my doubts with all that talk about second-hand clones. If the task ahead of me is actually impossible, I¡¯d like to have the chance to re-adjust my expectations accordingly.¡±


    The warden looked conflicted. I had a suspicion that no one had ever asked him this question before, and that he wasn¡¯t quite sure if he was really meant to be answering it. He sighed again, hopping down from my bed-slab and pacing the room a few times. Finally, he moved to speak again.


    ¡°The problem with this question, and I have to admit you¡¯re the first person who¡¯s ever asked it, is that there is no official answer. But I can give you my opinion if that would suffice?¡±


    ¡°Your opinion has got to be a lot better informed than mine or anyone else¡¯s,¡± I replied. ¡°Go for it.¡±


    ¡°Well, It seems to me, that it benefits everyone IRL if the new logins never actually leave this place. The man on the street doesn¡¯t care about you, all they¡¯re worried about is getting the criminal element off those very same streets. The lawmakers don¡¯t care either¡­ repeat offenders are a thing of the past, and that does wonders for their workload. You¡¯ve been successfully swept under the server, even the records of your prior existence are gone. And that has its own benefit for the dubious government officials who approved this whole damn exercise.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a lot easier to claim that your world is a utopia after you¡¯ve destroyed all records to the contrary, isn¡¯t it? They¡¯ve scrubbed you from history, and along with it, the public record of your crimes. Must do wonders for crime figures, eh? On top of that, they even get to ¡®execute¡¯ you with a clear conscience. They wiped you from their world without breaking their precious pledge not to bring back the death penalty. Your history and your meat media are both gone, and will be quickly forgotten by all but your loved ones, should you be fortunate enough to have any¡­¡±


    ¡°Yet my blood isn¡¯t on their hands, because technically I¡¯m still alive...¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Any attempt to suggest that your human rights are being abused are easily countered by the fact that you are no longer human. That and the fact that there¡¯s a perfectly good body on offer to you, should you ¡®choose¡¯ to redeem yourself by earning it. Of course, no one on the outside realizes just how badly stacked against you the odds really are. And then, of course, there are the interests of the company itself.¡±


    ¡°Surely they have nothing to gain from letting me rot here?¡± I countered. ¡°I realize they benefit from their government contract, but once I¡¯m sentenced, surely I¡¯m just a burden to them. Extra personaware on their server just means they need extra server space, and have to deal with the expenses that go with it. Why wouldn¡¯t they want us off their system as quickly as possible?¡±


    ¡°The same motivation that everyone else in your world has for everything they do. It¡¯s the reason I have to make a few pixels glint in the light and label them ¡®gold¡¯ just to keep you braindead hamsters running in your wheels. I¡¯m talking about money.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but they only get to invoke the avatar maintenance clause if I¡¯m still here in thirty years time. That hardly seems like a cash grab, does it?¡±


    ¡°Poor inferior human, you really don¡¯t get it, do you? You¡¯re code now, remember? You¡¯re moving at the speed of thought. As digital information, you are no longer constrained by the physics that once imprisoned the pathetic bags of meat you relied upon. Thirty years in Atone Online is little more than a year IRL. From their perspective, it¡¯s financially beneficial to keep you trapped here for as long as possible.¡±


    And with that, I learned the horrifying truth of Atone Online. They really did have no reason to want me back in their ¡®utopia.¡¯


    I¡¯d been put here to die.


    With that cheery thought, the ¡®mighty¡¯ Dungeon Warden bid me all the best in my future endeavors, cheerfully reminding me that he had the power to turn my avatar inside-out if the mood to do so happened to take him. With his blatant threat for me to behave myself made, he disappeared as quickly as he¡¯d first materialized.


    I took a few minutes to process what I¡¯d learned. It had been information overload, and none of it good. The Dungeon Warden seemed just as confused as I was by my sudden materialization in the boss chamber, so I began to mentally retrace my steps, all the way back to Siriso¡¯s hut, trying to think of anything that may have triggered the unexpected glitch in my journey. And that was when I remembered something from that meeting that I¡¯d completely forgotten about.


    Crap. There¡¯s been so much going on, I forgot all about my other quest; the hush hush mission from Siriso that was ordered not to access until I was completely alone. Well, I¡¯m in solitary confinement, so there¡¯s no better time to check it out than now, I guess.


    I opened my inventory and selected the ¡®quest¡¯ tab. My active quests from Samusk and NoobSlayer were there, but nothing from the priest.


    Hmmm, that¡¯s strange.


    I stared at the screen for a while, and eventually realized that each space underneath my existing quests was a blank panel that could be clicked on. With nothing else to try, I began clicking on the empty slots, opening and closing them one-by-one. I was repeatedly met with the word ¡®empty¡¯ until bingo. The sneaky priest really had gone to lengths to hide it, but there it was: ¡®Siriso¡¯s secret quest.¡¯ And the details were no longer hidden. My eye was immediately drawn to the rewards. 5000XP? 10 rep points? That was insane. But then my gaze fell upon the details of the quest itself. To my surprise, the description only contained four words. But the order they communicated almost floored me.


    Kill the Dungeon Warden.


    Holy shit! What the hell have I gotten myself into?

 Chapter 11.1

    Morning eventually came around. Or I assume it did, for there was no daylight to announce its arrival, no birdsong to lull me from my dreams of being torn apart by hungry mobs: only the antagonistic pair of NPC guards who arrived to lead me back to my cell. Despite their aggressive demeanor, I welcomed freedom they brought me from the solitude of ¡®the hole.¡¯ My prison-within-a-prison had granted me time to process recent events, but I was still no closer to getting my head around Siriso¡¯s secret ¡®quest.¡¯


    Kill the Dungeon Warden? Fuck!


    What possible reason could Siriso have for wanting the Dungeon Warden dead? Weren¡¯t they both sub-programs built into the same larger piece of software? Why would one be so keen to delete the other? Oh, and of much greater concern to me personally: what chance in hell did a recently-spawned swords-noob stand against the dungeon¡¯s most powerful resident? Was this, I wondered to myself, the real reason as to why Siriso had been so generous when dishing out the base points and the gold, back when I was originally sentenced? Did he honestly think I stood a chance against the master of the dungeon? It was true that I had acquired an assassin¡¯s dagger, but my skill lay in swordsmanship, not sneaky kills from the shadows. More than ever, I really needed a sword.


    To make a bad quest infinitely worse, the time limit was insane. Thirty days. What the hell was Siriso thinking? His files must be corrupted if he somehow believes that I¡¯ll be able to level up enough in a month to challenge that little bastard, let alone to kill him.


    And then there was the penalty for failure: unlike the other quests I¡¯d accepted so far, this one had come with an unwelcome clause: forfeit. Specifically, my deletion. I didn¡¯t doubt the goblinoid¡¯s ability to make good on the threat, either. The pompous priest had flaunted his ability to erase my very essence, back when I was at the mercy of his courtroom. I doubted the powerful program would have any problem reclaiming me into his clutches. Hell, the weary warden would probably gift-wrap me and send me on my way, if his disdain for my kind was any indication.


    I could always go to the warden willingly, warn him of the enemy in his midst, a barter for protection of my own. But the hidden quest had been expertly slipped past the Dungeon Warden¡¯s attention, as had I, the assassin. What was to stop Siriso issuing another such quest, this time with me as its target. There would be no shortage of prospective assassins passing through the goblin¡¯s court, and no guarantee that the weary warden could protect me from them, even if he wanted to. Hell, the list of prisoners who¡¯d like nothing better than to zero me out was growing at an alarming rate already. The Brotherhood wanted me dead. My half-orc ¡®ally¡¯ had dropped a level thanks to my duel, and would be more likely to return the favor than to assist me again. There were no two ways about it: I was screwed.


    Flanked (and occasionally, shoved) by NPC guards, I made my way down the corridor leading to my wing, our footsteps the only sound that could be heard, besides the occasional snore, prayer or threat from the occupants of the cells as we passed them by. As my cell drew closer, I continued to mull everything over. I knew couldn¡¯t tell anyone about my impossible quest, that had been a strict condition from the start. And to be perfectly honest, I didn¡¯t trust Samusk to help me anyway. The little bastard had left me in the lurch during the duel, his latest act of cowardice in a steadily growing list. The dwarf would probably drop me like a bad habit if he knew of the sword that was now hanging over me. Still, not being able to tell the others what I was up to, didn¡¯t mean that I couldn¡¯t manipulate them to help me indirectly. The dwarf¡¯s eyes had now become more important to me than ever. And the training session with NoobCrusher, even more so.


    Samusk was lying awake on his bunk when I finally reached our cell. There were many questions I needed to ask him, chiefly where the fuck did you get to, you little shit? So that was exactly what I began with.


    Samusk protested my accusations of cowardice, maintaining that he had rushed back to secure the cell door, to protect my respawn point. Whether this was true, or just a convenient cover for his cowardice, couldn¡¯t tell. But with my current deadline, I needed him more than ever, so I let it drop. For now.


    Looking relieved, Samusk began to question me about my vacation in the hole. I kept all information pertaining to the Dungeon Warden to myself, just as I¡¯d originally planned. Admittedly, a small part of me took satisfaction from having knowledge that the dwarf didn¡¯t, immature as it was. Once his questions were finally answered (sort of), I asked the dwarf a few more of my own.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering something,¡± I began. ¡°The first time I defended you¡­ you know, back when we spawned around the fire, my reputation increased. But in the canteen, I rushed to your aid and it made no difference whatsoever to my rep stat. Why is the system so inconsistent?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a pattern, all right,¡± the dwarf began, punctuating the statement with a yawn and a stretch before adding: ¡°Yer just too wet behind the ears to see it, is all.¡±


    ¡°Please enlighten me, oh wise one,¡± I sarcastically replied, adding a mock bow for effect.


    ¡°Law of depreciatin¡¯ returns,¡± he declared, sitting upright in his bunk and turning to face me. ¡°The first time yeh level up through any action is always the easiest. But as ye continue to increase yer stats, it¡¯s like climbin¡¯ a hill that gradually gets steeper. Ye can¡¯t jus¡¯ keep committin¡¯ the same actions over and over, expectin¡¯ the same results. It¡¯s like workin¡¯ a muscle with increasin¡¯ weights. Ye need to keep increasin¡¯ the difficulty if ye want to make more progress.¡±


    ¡°So instead of saving one dwarf, I need to save seven?¡± I teased.


    ¡°Fuck you.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, couldn¡¯t resist. But yeah, I guess that makes sense.¡±


    And while we¡¯re on the subject of saving you¡­


    ¡°You know, regardless of what it does for my rep, I am having to leap to your defense with alarming frequency. If you¡¯re going to attract so much trouble, we really could do with prioritizing that sword you were supposed to be finding me. You know, so I have something decent to defend you with.¡±


    And to hunt with. Oh, and preferably something big enough to skewer a Dungeon Warden¡­


    Although oblivious to my dodgy Dungeon Warden skewering intentions, Samusk agreed, promising me that he would ask around to help me procure a weapon worthy of my skillset. I smiled, satisfied that I was finally learning how to manipulate the sneaky little git.


    ¡°I fact, I might jus¡¯ have a lead that can help us with that,¡± he continued. ¡°I managed to find out more about that gang leader, Kronan.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I replied, stifling a laugh. ¡°Kronan the Barbarian?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the names a bit shit,¡± the dwarf replied, albeit in a whisper. ¡°Chose it in a panic an¡¯ then got saddled with it, I¡¯d imagine. But his rep sure as hell ain¡¯t. I¡¯ve been tryin¡¯ to find out why his reputation is so much higher than everyone else¡¯s around here.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± I asked, wondering what all this had to do with the soon-to-be-acquired mythical blade that I¡¯d already named ¡®WardenSlayer.¡¯ (Okay, not so much ¡®mythical¡¯ as ¡®imaginary¡¯, at least at this stage. But I could dream, right? Incidentally, the impressive blade also came a special attachment for skinning cowardly dwarves¡­)


    ¡°Well, fer a start, his gang makes a point of lookin¡¯ out fer the weakest players. An¡¯ that could seriously help with our hunt fer yer new sword.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand the connection,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Think, lad. His organization¡¯s comprised chiefly of high-level raid parties, so they¡¯re constantly discoverin¡¯ caches of items an¡¯ weapons as they push forward to unlock new areas of the dungeon. They keep the best stuff for themselves, obviously, but that leaves them with plenty of hand-me-downs to sell to the newer, less experienced warriors. An¡¯ Kronan, bein¡¯ the fine upstandin¡¯ member of the prison community that he is, forces his resellers to give the weaker players a discount.¡±


    ¡°Purely for the sake of his reputation, I¡¯m sure¡­ but either way, it sounds like a policy we could take advantage of.¡±


    ¡°Indeed it does, lad. So, first chance I get, I¡¯m goin¡¯ to bend the ear of one of his dealers, see if I can get ye somethin¡¯ comparable with the sword ye lost, or slightly better.¡±


    ¡°Only slightly better?¡± I protested. ¡°I thought you were supposed to be the richest dwarf in the dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Ssssh. Keep your voice down, yeh bloody idiot. We have to play this smart. A noob wandering around the place with a heroic-level weapon wouldn¡¯t last long down here. It would be like hangin¡¯ a ¡®mug me¡¯ sign around yer neck fer all to see. And I think yeh¡¯ve gained more than enough experience in that department, already. No, I¡¯m thinkin¡¯ that we get you somethin¡¯ affordable, but out of the ordinary. Like a barbarian-class blade, fer example. They hold more mana, an¡¯ one of the few benefits of yer shitty base-point allocation is that ye can wield heavier weapons than the average swords-noob. I intend to take full advantage of that, without pickin¡¯ anything that might raise too many eyebrows.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a plan,¡± I agreed. ¡°Let¡¯s go find us a weapon merchant.¡±


    ¡°Whoa there, what do ye think this is, a holiday camp? We have work to do?¡±


    ¡°If you expect me to go mob-slaying, then that¡¯s all the more reason to-¡±


    ¡°Forget bloody swords fer a minute, lad. I¡¯m talkin¡¯ building work. While you were sittin¡¯ around starin¡¯ at the walls, I got us both a job.¡±


    ¡°You signed me up to a construction crew without consulting me first?¡± I snapped. I was angry: the dwarf was my employer, but that didn¡¯t mean he owned me.


    ¡°Consult ye how, exactly? Crystal ball? One of them wee holograms from Star Wars? Yeh were in fuckin¡¯ solitary. When I learned ye were stuck there, I decided to go make myself useful, find us a way to earn.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why we need to waste time on things like that. What¡¯s the point in your having gold if you refuse to spend it?¡±


    ¡°Because we¡¯re workin¡¯ fer Kronan, an¡¯ anythin¡¯ that gets us closer to him is worth the effort. Ye should be thankin¡¯ me fer this opportunity, ye impudent prick.¡±


    ¡°Why building?¡± I asked, conceding to his logic, but unable to bring myself to apologize. ¡°And what does that have to do with Kronan¡¯s gang?¡±


    ¡°Kronan makes a point of only allowing powerful fighters to join his gang. Every member is at least level 3. As we¡¯ve established, they¡¯re a gang of high-level players who constantly push forward, clearing out the monsters in the unexplored dungeons. But he can¡¯t afford to waste the skills of powerful fighters capitalizing on those gains. That¡¯s why he hires folks like us. Our job will be the noob work, clearin¡¯ out the recently-conquered dungeons, buildin¡¯ new accommodation that he¡¯ll eventually sell back to the Dungeon Keeper as an additional wing of the prison.


    ¡°Dungeon Warden¡± I corrected.


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    ¡°Never mind. So, what you¡¯re saying is, he raises his reputation by finding work for the weaker prisoners. And in return, he gets a pack of noobs who¡¯ll do the donkey-work that would have lowered his gang¡¯s monster-slaying productivity¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­freeing up his men to push on and increase his gang¡¯s rep by slaying stronger and stronger monsters, all at a rate no other gang can hope to match.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a smart system,¡± I admitted


    ¡°And one we can turn to our advantage. Buildin¡¯ is a job with a high noob turnover, so there¡¯s always room fer another name on the list. As to why it suits yeh, luggin¡¯ granite bricks around takes strength. Somethin¡¯ ye seem to have an abundance of, despite yer level. An¡¯ it doesn¡¯t hurt to get you on the gang¡¯s radar fer somethin¡¯ other than getting¡¯ yer ass publicly kicked.¡±


    ¡°And what will you be doing while I¡¯m lugging around big heavy slabs of stone?¡± I asked, accusingly. Because ¡®worker¡¯ or not, the dwarf wasn¡¯t exactly a powerhouse.


    ¡°Basic haulage¡± he replied. ¡°Yeh¡¯ll see when we get there.¡±


    A bell sounded, announcing the official start of the day. With that, we left our cell. As we made our way through the corridors, I was relieved to see that the Brotherhood were giving me dirty looks, but little else. Perhaps they were afraid of me, I dared consider. Of course, they could just be saving me for Tiny, reluctant to bloody the chief ingredient in his cells fancy new noob-skin rug.


    I put that worrying thought out of my mind when we finally reached the canteen. What I needed more than anything, was breakfast. A night in the hole had left me famished, and even the grey slop was better than nothing. Perhaps I could even convince myself it was porridge, if I pinched my nose tightly enough. Then I realized that the doors were closed, their unwelcoming status punctuated by a heavy length of chain. My heart sank even further as the dwarf led me straight past them.


    ¡°Um, Samusk? Where are we going, exactly?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a tunnel nearby that leads to the front line,¡± he replied. ¡°Only appeared yesterday, apparently.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± I spluttered, immediately flashing back to my previous stint on the front line (followed by my brief stint lining the stomach of the boss contained within). You do remember the whole ¡®I don¡¯t have a sword¡¯ conversation from a few moments ago, right?¡±


    ¡°Relax, lad. We¡¯ll be stoppin¡¯ when we reach what was the front line, a day ago. The fight has moved on since yesterday. We¡¯re headed into the lair if a defeated boss.¡±


    I gave the dwarf a puzzled look. He sighed and continued to explain.


    ¡°Boss lairs are more valuable than any loot, lad. They make perfect real estate for prison expansion, ye can fit a whole wing in one, apparently. Once the former tenant¡¯s been evicted, that is.¡±


    Instinctively I called up my inventory, equipping both my basic dagger and its harness. I chose not to tell the dwarf about the much higher-quality assassin¡¯s dagger I¡¯d gained in the fight yesterday: I wanted to keep him motivated to find me a sword, after all. But ill-suited to my skillset or not, I felt all the better for having it in my possession. If the territory I was headed into had once contained mobs, who was to say there wouldn¡¯t be stragglers? It was good to have a way to defend myself again. And with that thought, another came to me: the closer I was to the front line, surely the better chance I had of hunting mob meat. This could be my best opportunity to satisfy NoobSlayer¡¯s quest and finally get my training.


    Samusk led me into an unfamiliar corridor, continuing to witter on about Kronan and his operation as he did so. I didn¡¯t much care for the details, only the small matter of breakfast: surely the wonderful warrior fed his workers, right? After a night in the hole, my stomach was growling. But to my horror, it wasn¡¯t the only one¡­


    We turned a corner to find ourselves face to face with the very thing that had haunted my dreams the night before. A jet-black grinning monstrosity, like a horse with the legs of a spider and the tail of a scorpion, its mouth stretched so far across its elongated face that it could probably swallow Samusk whole, if it really wanted to.


    Despite my secret desire to test that theory, I ordered the dwarf to run. As he did so, my hand went instinctively to my inventory, summoning the assassin¡¯s blade. I held the weapon at arm¡¯s length, daring the beast to even think of attacking. The hulking black beast in turn took a moment to study my blade, then let out an unholy shriek, its familiar rows of needle-like teeth putting my own merger weapon to shame.


    It was a shadow foal. And maybe it was breakfast time, after all.

 Chapter 11.2

    The dwarf quickly obliged my orders, scrambling back the way we¡¯d come. I envied him. Chiefly because it felt just like my old life, IRL. Some rich asshole paying me to be the buffer between them and the ugly bastard who¡¯s trying to kick the shit out of them. Just once, I¡¯d like to be the guy with the lackeys to do his dirty work for him. Or just say ¡®fuck it, there¡¯s more to life than money¡¯, and leave them to fight their own battles. But I couldn¡¯t run, even though every fiber of my being demanded it. I intended to stand my ground and fight. Because I¡¯d never take down the Dungeon Warden if I couldn¡¯t fend off a lowly mob. Besides¡­ I was currently level 2. That gave me one whole level to gamble with before I was essentially on my ¡®last life.¡¯ It was time to go hard or go home.


    It would be hard to tell from the panic on my face, but in truth, the creature was exactly what I needed. A lot stronger looking than I¡¯d hoped to encounter, admittedly. But hey, didn¡¯t that helpful young apprentice tell me that the harder they were to kill, the sweeter the meat? By that logic, this ugly fucker was going to be delicious. Surely this would be enough to satisfy NoobSlayer¡¯s tastes? The dumb mob couldn¡¯t possibly know it, but he was as much my meal ticket as I was his.


    As I mentally prepared myself for what was potentially going to be a very short battle, the slobbering creature quietly regarded me with too many eyes, looking like something Death himself would choose to ride into the apocalypse. I could swear the panting thing was a foot taller than any of the foals I¡¯d previously encountered. Not a patch on the shadow stallion, thankfully, but I didn¡¯t need a perception skill to know that it easily outclassed me... the smaller foals did not give up easily, so who knew what kind of HP this one was packing behind its hulking frame. Worse still, what was to say that there weren¡¯t more of the bastards lurking in the tunnel that lay behind it, waiting to rip my noobish avatar to shreds the moment I stepped forward.


    As I hastily scanned the area for further threats, I realized that a cave mouth wasn¡¯t the only thing it was standing next to. Evidently, I wasn¡¯t the only one having thoughts of breakfast. At its hooves, as if imprisoned by the beast¡¯s eight spindly legs, lay the sprawled-out body of a warlock. He looked disheveled and barely-conscious¡­ in fact, I¡¯d first mistaken him for a dusty pile of rags. But I could tell that he was alive. In truth, he was probably the only reason I was, too. He was evidently the shadow foal¡¯s chief priority.


    I gripped my stolen blade a little tighter and readied myself to (attempt to) save the stranger¡¯s life or die trying. Had I still possessed my sword, I would have repeated my earlier tactic, cleaving away the beast¡¯s spindly legs to disable it, this time finishing what I¡¯d started. Alas, I couldn¡¯t imagine that the ugly bastard would just stand there while I sawed those spindly legs off one by one with my paltry new dagger. As for the warlock, I¡¯d like to say that my intentions were purely heroic. (If they were, perhaps I would have got a nice little rep boost out of my actions.) But cold as it was, all I saw at the creature¡¯s feet was a potential ally. Someone to rain down ranged attacks on the mob, while my impressive resilience hopefully kept me alive. I didn¡¯t know the terminology at the time, but there was one plus to my repeated ass-kicking¡¯s and the resilience boost that often followed them: I was shaping up to be a pretty impressive tank.


    All right Shade, you can do this. You have speed, strength and resilience. Make them all count.


    I rushed the creature, drawing back the blade against my ribs as I ran. Registering the threat, the mob snarled a warning, winding back as if preparing to lunge forward on its spindly yet powerful legs. I¡¯d seen how the creatures moved, back in the boss lair. Their first instinct was always to lunge at the throat of their prey, hoping to incapacitate them as quickly as possible. So with that in mind, I ducked, diving forward with my impressive speed as its snapping jaws soared overhead. Then, using its own momentum against it, I thrust my dagger forward with all my strength, driving it deep into the creature¡¯s throat. An ear-splitting howl erupted from the beast. It convulsed, yanking my assassins¡¯ blade from my fingers as it rolled onto its powerful back, legs frantically kicking in the air as it shrieked in agony.


    -[ Assassination failed. You do not have the proficiency to use this weapon to its full potential. ]-


    Or in other words, I missed the important bits. Damn. I guess the assassination skill increases the statistical probability of a critical hit. And I haven¡¯t got it. Yet.


    A bit of luck couldn¡¯t have hurt either, admittedly, but alas I didn¡¯t have that either. Still, while the powerful strike hadn¡¯t killed it, I had certainly hurt it. The deafening howl was proof enough of that. There was no sense trying to press the attack with my puny ankle-dagger: rescuing my potential ally was my priority. Without a second glance to the writhing beast I dashed to the warlock¡¯s side, hooking him under his arms with the intention of dragging his avatar to safety.


    He spluttered as if awoken from a daze, then shoved me away in his confusion, fighting from my arms and returning to his feet under his own power. There was no time for explanations, not yet. We needed distance. Besides, I was fairly certain that the thrashing beast behind me was explanation enough. We needed to move. So I lunged at him, hoping to hustle the confused old codger to safety. But instead, I felt an explosion of pain as I rushed right into a devastating uppercut.


    Owwwwww! What the hell?


    The warlock¡¯s boney fist struck my jaw with unexpected speed, using my momentum against me just as I had with the shadow foal. For a moment I was stunned, a status message confirming as such. Fuck! This was the last thing I needed. As I staggered and gasped for words, my ungrateful rescuee kicked my legs out from under me, causing me to fall face-first to the cold hard floor. A foot found my back, and the animal-skull staff that I¡¯d hoped would be laying down ranged attacks on the mob by now was instead pointed firmly at the back of my head. The creature returned to its hooves, as a crackle of what I could only assume to be mana warmed the back of my neck.


    ¡°What the fuck are you playing at?¡± I gasped, twisting my head to meet the warlocks gaze, but failing as his boot held me firmly in place. ¡°I¡¯m trying to save you, you asshole. That fucking thing was about to eat you.¡±


    The warlock looked to the oddly restrained beast as it watched us converse. Then he let out a deep, hearty laugh.


    What the hell? Was this a trap? Have I been played?


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t in danger, you damn fool, I was having a kip. I spent the whole damn night widening that tunnel. I¡¯m bloody exhausted.¡±


    ¡°But the shadow foal-¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my pet,¡± he cut in. ¡°She was just guarding the entrance for me, is all. Come over and say hello to the dumb noob, Gluefactory.¡±


    The foal strode closer on its spider-like legs, leaned in toward my face and snarled, its warm drool spattering my face. I grimaced. The creature¡¯s malice I could understand, though¡­ I did stab it in the throat, after all, the blade hanging out of its flesh a gruesome reminder to all assembled. But I¡¯d yet to figure out the warlock. I still wasn¡¯t sure that the pair didn¡¯t have an understanding of some sort¡­ perhaps the warlock gets my items, and the mob gets everything else. Literally.


    Oh fuck, please don¡¯t let me get eaten again.


    ¡°Your pet?¡± I gasped. The pressure of his foot had eased, allowing me to twist onto my back and stare my ungrateful damsel in distress in his hairy wrinkled face. For the first time, our eyes fully met.


    ¡°Hang on, you¡¯re that guy from the boss raid,¡± I gasped.


    ¡°Well I¡¯ll be buggered,¡± the warlock replied, slinging his staff over his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re the magically-materializing swords-noob, aren¡¯t you? I was hoping to run into you again.¡±


    With that, he withdrew my blade from the creature¡¯s neck, wiped it on his robe, and tossed it onto my chest. Then he shooed away the thing that haunted my nightmares as if it were little more than an attention-seeking puppy, and offered me his boney callused hand.


    ¡°You may not have saved me today fella, but you sure as hell saved my ass yesterday.¡±


    I took his grip, and he yanked me to my feet. As I stood there wiping mob-slobber from my face, I received an unexpected status message.


    -[ Special award. You have earned a title: Scrappy Dude. You repeatedly get your ass kicked, and you never seem to win a fight, yet you keep coming back for more. Additional XP bonus to resilience: +20. Alert: you have reached the resilience cap for this level. Resilience XP will be unlocked when swordsman level 3 has been achieved. To aid this, an XP bonus has been awarded to your primary skillset: swordsman +20. ]-


    Hmmm. Not the most glamorous way to earn XP, admittedly, but I¡¯ll take it.


    The warlock introduced himself as Kriabal. Sensing that the danger had passed, I returned my dagger to my inventory and called to Samusk. He looked surprised as he poked his furry head around the corner. In all honesty, he probably expected my yell to be a lot more tortured, followed by a short journey back to our respawn point to collect his traumatized bodyguard.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°What the hell¡¯s goin¡¯ on,¡± he demanded, ¡°why is that thing jus¡¯ standin¡¯ there, lookin¡¯ at ye?¡±


    ¡°The shadow foal is the warlock¡¯s pet,¡± I began, by way of explanation, and because I couldn¡¯t help myself: ¡°I just made a deal with him. Apparently, the poor thing¡¯s on a diet, and a whole swordsman would go straight to the hungry mob¡¯s hips. So, in the interests of portion control, I offered him you instead. Kidding, stop looking at me like that.¡±


    He took a little convincing (the growls of the warlock¡¯s pet only served to endorse my playful threat) but eventually, Samusk joined us.


    ¡°Samusk, this is someone I met when I first arrived here. Well, sort of. His name is-¡±


    ¡°I know what his name is, ye muppet¡± snapped my delightful dwarven employer, ¡°it¡¯s hoverin¡¯ above his smug shiny head.¡±


    ¡°Oi, we don¡¯t all have magic eyeballs, you know,¡± I rebuked. I was getting fed up of the way the dwarf pointed out my limitations at every possible opportunity. ¡°Anyway, Kriabal, this grumpy little asshole is Samusk. He¡¯s my seeing-eye dwarf.¡±


    ¡°You know this reprobate?¡± asked the grumpy rude little asshole, as he glared at the disheveled looking warlock. Granted, he was underworld class, and his robes were coated in dust as if he¡¯d spent the night sleeping in a quarry. But surely ¡®reprobate¡¯ was a little harsh.


    ¡°This lad saved our raid party,¡± announced Kriabal, slapping me hard on the back. ¡°You should show him more respect.¡±


    Samusk immediately switched his glare to me, mouth aghast.


    ¡°Um, yeah I kinda materialized into a boss chamber when I first arrived. My actions were brave and heroic and I¡¯d rather we all focused on that part and not the fact that I eventually got myself eaten.¡±


    ¡°This has somethin¡¯ to do with the secondary skill ye arrived with, hasn¡¯t it?¡±


    I nodded. I¡¯d wondered if he¡¯d noticed that. In truth, I doubted that very little got past him.


    ¡°Hell¡¯s bells lad, why the fuck didn¡¯t ye say anythin¡¯ about this to me?¡±


    ¡°I thought it was normal,¡± I replied, awkwardly. ¡°Y¡¯know, welcome to the dungeon, you¡¯re fucked, that sorta thing.¡±


    ¡°You ask me, the fella¡¯s assessment of dungeon life is pretty spot on,¡± piped up the warlock. ¡°But no, that¡¯s not normal, lad. You aren¡¯t aware of any anomaly that might have sent you there, are you? Glowing porthole in the floor? Wee baldy fella in a red dressing gown handing out quests?¡±


    ¡°None. I was sentenced by Siriso, and then I ah¡­ might have gotten into a fight with some of the goblin guards. Next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of the goriest human waxworks exhibition imaginable.¡±


    ¡°You fought Siriso¡¯s guards?¡± came the next question, voiced by two shocked prisoners in unison.


    ¡°Uh, yeah. I broke one of their noses,¡± I admitted. I probably said it a little more proudly than I should have. Old habits die hard, I guess.


    ¡°Ha. Nice one,¡± beamed the dusty warlock, throwing a heavily tattooed arm around my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m liking you more already, Shade.¡±


    ¡°You, ah¡­ don¡¯t want to punch me, then?¡± I asked, adding: ¡°apparently everyone else wants to, thanks to my sadly lacking charisma stat.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, mate,¡± he laughed, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Already got that outta my system, remember?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± I replied, rubbing the reminder that was my aching jaw. For a scrawny warlock, he threw a pretty mean uppercut.


    ¡°And don¡¯t worry, that¡¯ll be the last time I smack you around. Unless you decide to give me good reason to, of course.¡± He leaned in, pointing a bony finger hard against his forehead, furrowing the skin. ¡°I¡¯ve learned how to recognize when the systems are trying to manipulate my actions¡­ been here long enough to spot the telltale signs, see? I can get around the charisma skill, most of the time. Anyway, you can¡¯t be putting too much emphasis on stats. Your dwarven mate here has 5 charisma points, but I¡¯d happily feed him to ol¡¯ GlueFactory, regardless.


    Samusk has 5 charisma points? That¡¯s good to know. Especially if the system is making me more susceptible to following his orders because of them.


    I was starting to get the impression that the dwarfs non-existant combat stats had left him with a lot of base points to distribute into other areas. As for Kriabal, if he really has learned to recognize when his thoughts are being manipulated, I need pick his brain when Samusk isn¡¯t around, find out what signs of manipulation I should be keeping an eye out for. With our 0-5 charisma ratio, who knows how much power the devious dwarf actually has over me. For all I know, it¡¯s the only damn reason I accepted his job.


    ¡°As for your sudden appearance during our boss raid, if you don¡¯t know why it happened, be sure to tell General Nyx exactly that. And I mean do your damnedest to convince her¡­ if she thinks you¡¯re holding back, she¡¯ll try to beat the information outta you, instead.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the heads up, I owe you.¡±


    ¡°No lad, I owe you. And I appreciate you trying to save me there, misguided as it was. Takes balls to charge toward a shadow foal.


    He does owe me, doesn¡¯t he? Shit, I have to think fast, in case this is my last chance to cash in. How can I take advantage of this? In fantasy novels, wizard-y types hand out magical weapons all the time, and I desperately need a sword. But that¡¯s potentially being taken care of by my employer. What can a warlock do for me that no one else can? Ah, the vice-hungry Knight¡­


    ¡°Um, you wouldn¡¯t know where I can find dark crystal meth, would you?¡± I asked, somewhat awkwardly.


    ¡°You¡­ think I look like a meth head?¡± he replied, his tone sharpening and his gaze narrowing. He straightened up and began to reach for his staff.


    Shit! ¡°Um, I¡­ I¡­¡±


    ¡°If so, then your perception¡¯s better than your stats led me to believe,¡± he added, bursting into laughter. ¡°Sorry lad, I couldn¡¯t resist. But alas, I can¡¯t help you there. I¡¯m all out at the moment, needed my last bag to steady my nerves on the way to the boss raid. I used to brew it in my spare time, but I haven¡¯t had much of that, lately. That damn amazon¡¯s working me to exhaustion.¡±


    Damn, so close.


    ¡°Do you ah¡­ happen to know where I can get some, then?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s almost impossible to obtain at the moment,¡± he replied with a sigh. Thanks to the damn guards¡­¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re clamping down on drugs in the prison?¡±


    ¡°Nah, much worse than that. They¡¯re starting to develop a taste for it, expecting a share of every batch. The greedy bastards are really hitting the supply chain.¡±


    Which means it might be all the more valuable to my would-be trainer if I can find some¡­


    ¡°If demand is high, wouldn¡¯t it be worth yer while brewin¡¯ some more?¡± asked Samusk. I knew what he was up to. He had as much to gain from my training as I did.


    ¡°If the guards were actually paying for it, then yeah. But handing most of it over as ¡®prison tax¡¯ would wipe out any profit I¡¯d make from the leftovers. Alchemical ingredients aren¡¯t cheap. It just isn¡¯t worth the effort.¡±


    Oh well. Aside from a sudden influx of perception and charisma, or a vial of Dungeon Warden repellant, there was still one thing I needed. And perhaps it was best not to place myself in Samusk¡¯s debt, if it could be avoided. My mind made up, I returned to my original train of thought.


    ¡°You ah¡­ wouldn¡¯t happen to have a spare sword tucked away in your inventory, would you? As you witnessed earlier, I¡¯m stuck with a puny dagger, at the moment.¡±


    ¡°Apparently it¡¯s not the size that matters, but what you do with it,¡± scoffed the warlock.


    ¡°Whoever said that obviously hasn¡¯t tried to take down a shadow foal single-handed,¡± I rebuked with a smirk, adding: ¡°Um, I¡¯m sorry about stabbing your pet, by the way.¡±


    The warlock strode over to the panting beast and began to stroke its back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, fella. Whatever doesn¡¯t kill old GlueFactory here just makes him stronger. And I mean that literally, the bugger¡¯s level 3 already, and surviving that scratch you dealt him can only help his resilience.¡±


    ¡°Hang on, was he a mob from the boss fight? Did he gain a level or something?¡±


    ¡°Yup, and I see you did, too.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you?¡± I enquired, wishing I shared the warlock¡¯s perception.


    ¡°Almost. Fell slightly short, what with the piss-poor deal we contractors get, thanks to the penalties. We do all the work, and the chosen few reap the XP, eh? All cos we ain¡¯t body dysmorphia weirdos who fit into their damn Conan club.¡±


    ¡°The lad asked you if you could get him a sword,¡± butted in Samusk, abruptly.


    ¡°What do I look like, the lady of the lake? Granted, I could use a wash¡­¡± His face softened as he returned his gaze to me. ¡°Sorry lad, I scavenge what I can, but my contractor status limits what loot I can and can¡¯t pick up on duty. They only let me keep the staff because I destroyed my old one saving their loin-cloth covered assets. I found a few swords in the tunnel, along with the remains of their previous owners, but they were all rusted to buggery, not even worth lifting. One of the poor bastards did have this, though.¡±


    -[ You have been gifted a low-quality wooden shield. Defense +1. Durability 19/30. ]-


    ¡°It¡¯s piss poor,¡± he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed as he handed it over. ¡°But your own defense is just as weak, and anything¡¯s got to be better than trying to shield a sword-strike with those shitty cloth bracers of yours. They¡¯re purely cosmetic.¡±


    ¡°The chance to double my defense?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± I did just that, graciously accepting the merger payment.


    ¡°He saved your lousy party and all he gets is a shitty wooden shield?¡± butted in Samusk, his expression now one of anger. GlueFactory growled, and the dwarf quickly backed off.


    ¡°Whoa, who¡¯s this, your manager? Relax, grumpy, this is by no means a payment for what the boy did for me. Just a token of my gratitude, is all.¡± His hand found its way to my shoulder, his eyes now locked onto mine. ¡°I still owe you, swords-noob. And us contractors have to stick together, we sure as hell can¡¯t rely on the barbarians to watch our backs.¡±


    ¡°Can we hurry this touching reunion along please?¡± piped up my employer. ¡°It¡¯s our first day, and we can¡¯t afford to be late.¡±


    ¡°Ignore him,¡± I sighed. ¡°He¡¯s just jealous because I got a free shield and he didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°The wee buggers right, though,¡± replied Kriabal, his own expression now worryingly serious. ¡°If you¡¯re here to work, you¡¯d better get on in there. Everyone else arrived ages ago. That¡¯s the only reason I thought I could finally get a moment¡¯s kip.¡±


    ¡°What! Spluttered Samusk.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I added. ¡°But how? We came straight here first thing.¡±


    ¡°If there¡¯s one thing the warden needs, its more real estate. Signing up for manual labor when there¡¯s a chamber to terraform is a literal get-out-of-jail-free card, regardless of what time it is. Same reason raid party members like myself get to wander blowing holes in the wall around after lights-out. Once you¡¯re on the list, you can willingly bypass your own cell¡¯s door, regardless of the hour. Most of the workers arrived two hours ago.¡±


    ¡°Shit. How could I not know this,¡± grumbled the dwarf to himself.


    More importantly, why the hell would you expect to? was my own thought on the matter. Seriously, where are you getting your information from, Samusk?


    ¡°You screwed up there, short stuff,¡± continued Kriabal, savoring the opportunity to rub it in. ¡°We could really have used your shifty little eyes last night, too. Dwarven scouts make good money, what with the danger involved.¡±


    Samusk grumpily presented our work-passes and stormed into the cavern. I thanked the warlock for his gift, adding a subtle reminder that I¡¯d be mulling over that favor he owed me, and followed.


    The fact that I was following a grumpy dwarf to work was not lost on me. My impromptu rendition of the only song that seemed appropriate for such an occasion did not, however, go down particularly with my dwarven employer, despite the distant chuckles of the warlock. In fact, that was an understatement: my vocal performance was met with a torrent of expletives and hand gestures that would never find their way into a Disney animation. Not unless they finally ran out of fairy-tales and decided to remake ¡®Goodfellas¡¯ instead.


    Yup, definitely the grumpy one, I thought to myself.


    Non-combatant or not, I was starting to think that I might need my new shield sooner than expected. Eventually, the dwarf calmed down, beckoning me to follow him.


    And off to work we went.

 Chapter 12.1

    The air in the tunnel was thick with dust, giving the dimly-lit space a freshly excavated feel. The light that shone in behind us reflected against the tiny particles of rock as they hung thick in the air, a haze that danced around our avatars as we began to make our descent. The tunnel had quickly become a decline, and a treacherous one, at that. Whoever had dug it had evidently done so with little consideration for the unfortunate souls who would have to traverse the bastard thing, leaving us to navigate a jagged uneven path that did little to speed our journey. As we advanced, the light behind us quickly became a distant memory.


    Samusk led the way, granting me another small reminder of just how useful the dwarf could potentially be to me. Having a guide with the night-vision trait while navigating a dark, poorly lit tunnel wasn¡¯t exactly a bad thing, even if he was increasingly getting on my nerves. I didn¡¯t have a torch of any kind (such things cost money or mana, and I lacked in the ability to dispense either). But if I needed to go mob hunting in order to pay for my training, the dwarf¡¯s inherit skill could prove to be invaluable to me.


    As we ventured deeper, I was thankful to learn that orbs of energy had been dotted along the cavern to guide our way: constructs of pure mana (or so the dwarf had informed me) a sharp reminder of just how neglected my own mana skill was, thus far.


    Can I generate light like this? I wondered.


    I knew that my ability to wield mana was somehow linked to my swordsmanship, but I hadn¡¯t a damn clue how to activate the skill. Samusk was no help to me in this matter: as a non-combatant, he knew as little about channeling the mysterious substance as I did. I made a promise to myself to practice the skill in my cell, later.


    Who knows, maybe I¡¯ll even get lucky and blow up the dwarf in the process.


    While I didn¡¯t understand the odd energy or its composition, what was clear was that the floating orbs had been put in place to guide us. Alas, to say that they were sparsely placed along the tunnel was like saying Samusk was a little bit untrustworthy. The bare minimum had been provided, no doubt a secondary consideration to lighting the lair itself. Not ideal when you¡¯re in a hurry.


    We pushed on, the only words spoken being an occasional exclamation as one of us scratched our unprotected flesh upon the walls of the jagged cave. Eventually, the dwarf turned and broached the subject I¡¯d been expecting since we encountered Kriabal.


    ¡°The warlock called ye a contractor. How did ye manage to gain that status, then?¡±


    At least where this was concerned, I had nothing to hide. ¡°The raid party made me a contractor when they issued me with a quest to assist them. Look, I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    I kneeled down (carefully) and touched the grey icon that hovered above my shoulder. Its history opened, displaying my contractors¡¯ badge, a red ¡®X¡¯ marking its cancellation. Samusk almost choked when he saw the logo.


    ¡°Hells bells, lad. That¡¯s the bloody organization we¡¯re tryin¡¯ to join. Most powerful gang in the prison and ye¡¯ve already got yer foot in the door? Why didn¡¯t ye say?


    ¡°It faded after the fight,¡± I replied with a shrug. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize the connection to Kronan. Hell, I didn¡¯t even know who he was, at the time. I was just happy they didn¡¯t sever my ties to the party before I gained the XP boost from the boss battle.¡±


    ¡°We can use this to our advantage,¡± the dwarf smirked, his grumpy expression finally retreating from his furry face. ¡°If this ¡®General Nyx¡¯ can vouch for ye, this could seriously put us on Kronan¡¯s radar.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± I replied. And it was. Because if I was on a mission to kill a Dungeon Warden, there were worse things to have on my side than an army of powerful barbarians who happened to owe me a favor.


    Suddenly it occurred to me: perhaps Siriso wasn¡¯t trying to throw me into a boss chamber, after all. Was it possible that his intention had only been to get me close to the raid party? Killing off his would-be assassin made no fucking sense, after all. But that consideration only led to another question: why? Was the sneaky goblin angling to get me into Kronan¡¯s gang right from the start? Or was I being sent to them to meet one player in particular? Did the crafty priest have another man on the inside? And if so, how the hell was I supposed to find him, if I couldn¡¯t discuss the details of my quest with anyone? I had too many theories and not enough answers. It was all turning into a bit of a headache.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong,¡± asked the dwarf, seeing the look of concern on my face. Unable to voice any of my true concerns, I threw him a false one.


    ¡°I ah, still don¡¯t understand how this helps to get you into Kronan¡¯s gang,¡± I declared. (In truth, the dwarf¡¯s future was the least of my worries.) ¡°Are you going to use that impressive charisma of yours to sweet talk them into letting you join up? Or are you secretly a barbarian in disguise? I can¡¯t really imagine you in a skull codpiece. I don¡¯t particularly want to, either.¡±


    ¡°Never you mind that,¡± he snapped. ¡°I have plans¡­¡±


    I¡¯ll bet you do. And a lot more of them than you¡¯re letting on.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯d better not be relying on your charisma,¡± I added. ¡°Based on your interactions with the warlock, I¡¯m starting to think that it might be faulty.¡±


    ¡°Him? Pfffft! I wasn¡¯t tryin¡¯ to get on his good side.¡±


    ¡°No shit. Why were you so rude to him? Surely we need all the allies we can get.¡±


    ¡°Warlocks are only one step up from necromancers, lad. You want my advice, you¡¯ll stay well clear of that sort.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s still no reason to be rude to him,¡± I rebuked. ¡°We may find that we need him, down the line. And hang on, now that I think about it, you weren¡¯t exactly social with the young apprentice I met either, or the Knight.¡±


    ¡°Quit your whinin¡¯, we¡¯re almost at the boss lair,¡± was the dwarf¡¯s blunt reply.


    I was beginning to suspect that he wasn¡¯t so averse to the people I was associating with, as he was to the fact that I was making my own alliances. He needed me, after all. To that end, it was hardly inconceivable that he was trying to keep me from finding myself another ally, and leaving him in the lurch. I couldn¡¯t afford anything holding me back, not with Siriso¡¯s quest hanging over me. I would word the question carefully when the time was right, because there was something more pressing to consider: I could finally see a literal light at the end of the tunnel.


    ¡°Thank the gods,¡± I replied, immediately slipping on a loose rock and cutting my knee. ¡°OOOWWW! Bugger! The sooner I get my hands on some armor, the better. Damn, I should have asked the warlock if he had any armor-plated chest protectors. I¡¯d really like to put my nipples away-¡±


    ¡°Hush, lad,¡± cut in the dwarf, before letting out an exasperated sigh.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Are you upset? Is it because you secretly like my nipples?¡±


    ¡°Suppose we better get this over with,¡± mumbled my employer, ignoring my continued attempts to wind him up.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Get what over with?¡±


    ¡°We could run into general Nyx down there, and we need to be ready¡­¡±


    ¡°Oi, answer me you little prick, get what over with?¡±


    ¡°Stage two of my plan,¡± he replied, with yet another sigh. ¡°I need ye to enslave me.¡±


    ¡°To¡­ what?¡± I gasped.


    ¡°Ye asked how I was goin¡¯ to join a gang? Well, this is yer answer. I¡¯ll be ridin¡¯ on yer coat-tails, lad. As yer slave, I get to go where yeh go, includin¡¯ if ye happen to join a gang. This move was always inevitable¡­ noobs tend to stick together, but as ye get stronger, our alliance is only goin¡¯ to look stranger, even with yer dependence on my eyes. This is our best way to hitch my wagon to yers while avoidin¡¯ unwanted attention.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re willingly offering yourself up to me as my slave? Samusk, I haven¡¯t known you for long, but that doesn¡¯t sound like you at all.¡± I hesitated, trying my best to read his face in the dim light. ¡°What else are you getting out of this?¡±


    ¡°The warm fuzzy feelin¡¯ of knowin¡¯ that I¡¯m helpin¡¯ my fellow man,¡± he replied.


    ¡°I honestly can¡¯t believe that you managed to say that with a straight face. Give me the real answer, or I¡¯m going back to bed.¡±


    ¡°I turned and began to make my way back, just to let him know that I meant business. I was tired of the dwarf deciding that everything was ¡®need to know¡¯, and that I didn¡¯t need to know anything. What I did know, was that I was his meal ticket. If he was prepared to go this far to stay by my side, he needed me more than he was prepared to admit.


    ¡°Wait!¡± cried Samusk, grabbing at my trouser leg with his stubby hands. He sighed again. ¡°You know, I¡¯m really startin¡¯ to regret pickin¡¯ muscle with half a brain.¡±


    I thanked him for the sort-of compliment and gestured for him to continue.


    ¡°Yer right, that isn¡¯t the only benefit I get. If you own me, I¡¯m no longer responsible for my own actions, okay?¡±


    ¡°Which means...?¡±


    The dwarf turned away, unable to look me in the eye as he spoke. ¡°You take the rep loss for every questionable act that you ¡®order¡¯ me to commit.¡±


    ¡°I see. So, I¡¯d essentially become your buffer, absorbing the rep damage on your behalf. Were you going to tell me this before, or after I agreed?¡±


    ¡°Relax, Kronan has a high rep anyway. It¡¯s not like we were gonna take a hit to your rep by joinin¡¯ him.¡±


    Hmmm. But if we happen to fail in that endeavor, and end up hooking up with a less reputable gang, its double damage for me, right?


    ¡°Look, like it or not, ye can¡¯t perceive shit. And with all the charisma of a turd that won¡¯t flush, ye need a spokesman, too. Ye need me at yer side as much as I need you.¡±


    ¡°Like at the duel?¡± I asked, accusingly.


    ¡°Fuck, not this again. I was protectin¡¯ yer respawn point, lad. I already told ye that.¡±


    I was about to say all right, I give up when a thought suddenly occurred to me.


    ¡°Wait a minute. If I make you my slave, everyone will think you¡¯re my prison bitch. I don¡¯t want the other prisoners to think I have a fetish for small hairy men. I like elves. Female elves with a whopping big pair of ah-¡±


    I¡¯d like to say that the word I was grasping for was ¡®stats¡¯, but I would be lying. Thankfully Samusk interrupted me, saving me from embarrassing myself further.


    ¡°Oh, get over yerself, what is this fuckin¡¯ obsession ye have with dwarves bein¡¯ used for that seedy purpose? Don¡¯t answer that, I don¡¯t actually care. What I do care about is not bein¡¯ any later for work, so we need to get this done before we enter that bloody chamber. If this General Nyx fella does approach us, he needs to know that we¡¯re a package deal right from the start.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I sighed. But only because I saw his logic. That didn¡¯t mean I had to like it. ¡°How does this work, then.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very straightforward. Jus¡¯ order me to bend the knee. The system will do the rest.¡±


    I had to admit, straightforward or not it all felt a bit awkward. I¡¯d wanted to be the guy with the lackeys for a change, but not like this.


    ¡°Um, would you like to kneel before me? Please? Nothing sexual, mind.¡±


    ¡°Fucking hell, lad. Are yeh askin¡¯ me to propose or are you makin¡¯ me yer slave? We¡¯re trying to develop the slaveowner trait, you idiot. And slave-masters are not known for sayin¡¯ please.¡±


    ¡°Bend the knee, slave,¡± I announced, my confident tone betrayed by my awkward expression. As the dwarf obliged, a new message ran through my head¡­


    -[ You have acquired the slaveowner trait, level I. You speak, and people obey. XP required to reach level II, 100. Warning: binding others into forced servitude is an immoral act, and this trait has lowered your reputation: rep -2. ]-


    -[ Congratulations: You have successfully acquired your first slave. Username: Samusk. Recruitment penalty: rep -1. Warning: this slave has a higher leadership stat than his current master. Control may be difficult to exert. Suggestion: Increase your leadership to increase your control over your existing slaves. ]-


    Rep -3? Oh, come on.


    I let the dwarf know exactly how I felt about the unexpected increase to my sentence. He, in turn, suggested that if I thought I could just wander around enslaving folks without getting a bad name, I needed all the help navigating this game that I could get. Begrudgingly, I had to agree with him on that. I just wasn¡¯t sure that the guy who currently screwed me out of all my rep points was the best person to trust for guidance, anymore. Oh well, there was no point crying over it now. I¡¯d already taken the hit to my stats. My only choice now was to try and get something positive out of it.


    As I fought to suppress my rage, I noticed a visible change to the dwarf¡¯s avatar. The small grey shield that had hovered above his shoulder to mark him as an independent had now been replaced by a floating pixelated image of my face, no doubt marking him as my ¡®property¡¯.


    ¡°So¡­ that¡¯s it, then?¡± I asked, too weary to argue any further. What was the point of letting him know how annoyed I was? He obviously didn¡¯t care. He¡¯d got what he wanted.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Samusk replied, puffing out his chest. ¡°Yer now the proud owner of the prison¡¯s sexiest dwarf.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t say that again,¡± I groaned. ¡°People will talk.¡±


    ¡°People will talk anyway. But chin up, lad. Believe it or not, I did you a favor, too. The slaveowner trait might jus¡¯ make ye more appealin¡¯ to Kronan.¡±


    This piqued my interest. ¡°Really? How so?¡±


    ¡°Well let¡¯s face it¡­ what leader doesn¡¯t crave troops with 100% obedience? Havin¡¯ a slave owner among yer allies is a great way to keep yer troops in line without havin¡¯ to get yer own hands dirty. Folks like you provide folks like him with a buffer for the reputation damage that comes with yer new trait.¡±


    ¡°Seriously? That¡¯s supposed to make me feel better? It sounds to me like I¡¯m just becoming everyone else¡¯s shit sponge.¡±


    ¡°Well let¡¯s face it, yer hardly the brains of the operation, ye have to pull yer weight somehow.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d kinda hoped your new role would have made you more¡­ I dunno, respectful?¡±


    ¡°Respect is earned, lad, so I¡¯m yer slave in name only. I¡¯m still yer boss, and don¡¯t you forget it.¡± With that, he turned and resumed his advance toward the light.


    I took a moment to curse him, his ancestors, and whatever continent he sprang from IRL, then reluctantly followed. So far, I¡¯d gained two abilities (mana manipulation and slaveowner) that I had no idea how to operate. Still, if I could get my head around the latter, perhaps I could raise an army against the Dungeon Warden, steal Kronan¡¯s troops and make them my own¡­


    And with a -1 rep penalty for every slave taken, damn myself in the process, I thought to myself with a shudder. What sort of man would that make me? Was I really prepared to go that far to escape Siriso¡¯s clutches? I cursed the goblin priest for sabotaging my redemption and moved on.


    As we approached the end of the tunnel, we stepped over (or in Samusk¡¯s case climbed over) the skeletons that Kriabal had mentioned. The bones looked ancient. Although humanoid in their proportions, I could only assume that they had once belonged to a pack of the game¡¯s NPCs. Players generally tidied up after themselves, thanks to their ability to respawn. I stopped to scavenge what I could from their gristly corpses, hoping to find an item or two that the weary warlock may have missed, but Kriabal was right: their swords were little more than clumps of rust. Their durability all but spent, they were barely holding together and would probably disintegrate on impact with even the weakest of mobs. I considered testing that theory on the dwarf (he¡¯d certainly given me good cause to) but he was already scrambling over the final rocky hurdle that led to journey¡¯s end.


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± called my newly-appointed (if not particularly respectful) slave, adding: ¡°mind the step.¡±


    As we dropped down into the chamber, I instantly recognized the vast space before me. It was much better lit than it had been previously: mana orbs now flooded the entire chamber with unknown energies, confirming that this was indeed where the bulk of the magical resource had been allocated. Bathed in their light, the floor mosaics and imposing metal statues were unmistakable. As were the trails of blood that I¡¯d witnessed being painted across the floor using the stricken bodies of the powerless raid party, as its members were dragged to the maw of the beast that had once resided here. Yup, there was no question about it: this was the boss lair where I¡¯d encountered the shadow stallion.


    As we ventured into the chamber, I prayed that things went a lot more smoothly for me this time. I couldn¡¯t have known that I would soon be facing my most dangerous challenge yet.

 Chapter 12.2

    As we strolled further in, I noted that the chamber bore the scars of heavy fighting, no doubt the battle that had been fought after my rather abrupt exit. Bricks were scorched and broken, and in some cases, stained crimson red. Prisoners in non-combatant garb that was little more than rags worked to scrub the stone clean.


    I wonder if any of that¡¯s mine, I thought to myself, morbidly.


    There was one entrance (through which we came) and three exits at the opposite end of the room. Each of the exits looked considerably more official than the roughly constructed tunnel through which we¡¯d arrived. I had no idea where the three paths led to, but I had little chance of finding out: each was guarded by a pair of wizards. (Or apprentices¡­ to be perfectly honest, I still wasn¡¯t sure how to tell the difference. Damn my lack of perception.)


    There were a lot of prisoner¡¯s present, and unlike my earlier visit to the chamber, most were frantically bustling around. Many of them were of the half-orc and barbarian persuasion, and there were quite a few who I instantly recognized from the rabble who had assaulted me, back in the canteen. (Although not, to my relief, there was no sign of the oversized would-be leader who had tried to kill me. I knew that a rematch was all but inevitable between us, but I needed an opportunity to grind my unarmed combat skills before I even considered tackling that bastard again).


    A further survey of the chamber¡¯s occupants revealed the most obvious clue as to the lair¡¯s former purpose: the huge shadow stallion carcass that was lifelessly sprawled in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by prisoners, as a small army of swordsmen and their leather-clad female equivalent hacked away at the lifeless body for all they were worth. I couldn¡¯t imagine that there was much XP to be gained from stabbing the grotesque dead thing, but then I noticed that the freshly cleaved monster flesh was being loaded into sacks, then loaded up in piles next to the tunnel. Like the cleaners, the players responsible for the haulage were dressed in little more than rags.


    ¡°Stop gawkin¡¯¡± spat the dwarf. ¡°Straighten up, put a bit of swagger in yer walk.¡±


    I suddenly became conscious that if I was trying to make an impression on this general, I needed to look as strong as possible. I didn¡¯t have much to boost my stats with, but I did have one such item, thanks to the light-fingered rogue. So, I opened my inventory and slipped on the only stat-enhancing trinket I possessed: The Ring of the Rising Alpha.


    -[ The Ring of the Rising Alpha has been activated. Leadership +2 for the duration of use. Be aware, this item is capable of overriding the cap on the user¡¯s leadership skill. ]-


    I stared at my hand, expecting the ring to emit an aura of light or something, but there was no such side-effect. Nor was there a physical change to my avatar.


    Damn, I was hoping for a crown, at least¡­ I am the King of my cell now, after all.


    But alas, this wasn¡¯t one of those items that grants the player a visual upgrade. I hadn¡¯t even gained a damn shirt. Keen to find some evidence that the battered piece of jewelry was actually working, I called up my stats again, this time focusing on the corresponding entry.


    Leadership: 0+2 (Cap 2+2)


    Well, the stat boost was definitely there, but I had to admit that I didn¡¯t feel any different. I wasn¡¯t sure that I trusted the stat to benefit me. Surely leadership was one of those things that depended on the player¡¯s natural skill, not a number on a screen. Then again, I¡¯d thought the exact same thing about charisma, and look how that had turned out. Ultimately, I decided that having an extra 2 points in my base stats couldn¡¯t hurt, no matter what they happened to be allocated to. if Nyx¡¯s perception was high enough, he would see them.


    ¡°Stop faffin¡¯ about with yer status menu and get a move on,¡± called the dwarf, waving me to his side. I made a mental note to explain the definition of a slave to him at some point, before the asshole¡¯s ego completely blew our cover. With a sigh, I jogged to his side.


    ¡°Hey Samusk, you should be announcing your master¡¯s presence to the room,¡± I mocked, attempting to get under the dwarf¡¯s skin a little more. ¡°Be sure to use my full title though. That¡¯s Emperor Shade, King of the noobs.¡±


    It was intended as a joke, but to my surprise, the insignia on the dwarf¡¯s shoulder began to pulse, and he immediately followed my request. What followed was a cringe-inducing announcement to the entire lair in which the dwarf decreed to all assembled that his master, Emperor Shade, King of the Noobs had now entered the chamber. The look on his face suggested that the words that were flowing from his lips were far from voluntary. The look on everyone else¡¯s faces meanwhile, suggested that we now shared the title of the dungeon¡¯s most slappable noob. I didn¡¯t care, though. I was ecstatic.


    ¡°No fucking way,¡± I exclaimed, staring at my now beetroot companion. ¡°Your slave status means you have to do everything I say, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°How in the hell did you override my personaware?¡± he spat in response. ¡°Only slaveowners with the leadership skill can-¡± The dwarf stopped mid-sentence, his eye going to my newly adorned (albeit slightly battered) piece of bronze finger wear. ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake! You never told me you had one of those.¡±


    Of course. What was it the status message had said? ¡®This slave has a higher leadership stat than his current master. Control may be difficult to exert.¡¯ The dwarf had probably gained his first leadership point by bossing me around, that was why he¡¯d felt safe to submit to me. But thanks to the ring I¡¯d just surpassed him. I¡¯d taken control of his avatar through luck, not via a cunning strategy. Still, the dwarf thought I was an idiot, and he needed to be taken down a peg or two. With that in mind, there was no point in telling him know that.


    ¡°Information is power, Samusk,¡± I replied in the incredibly smug tone of the master manipulator I wished I was. ¡°You taught me that. So, like I asked you earlier, does this mean you have to do everything I say?¡±


    The dwarf simply scowled at me.


    ¡°I order you to answer,¡± I continued, still grinning from ear to ear.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he curtly spat, ¡°everything you ask.¡± His face was like thunder.


    Oh, how the tables have turned¡­


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I promise I won¡¯t take advantage too much, even if I do still owe you for kicking me down that flight of stairs while I was unconscious.¡±


    ¡°Oi, I told you, that¡¯s all lies.¡±


    ¡°I order you to tell me what really happened.¡±


    ¡°I decided to cut my losses and kicked ye down the stairs to finish ye off,¡± replied Samusk, completely without shame. ¡°Figured it would be easier to find me a new bodyguard, but I hadn¡¯t banked on yer resilience makin¡¯ yeh so durable.¡± Furious with my newfound control over his avatar, the dwarf then proceeded to launch into a volley of expletives that would make even an orc blush.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Yeah, I could definitely get used to this. Not least because the dwarf had a ton of secrets, and I was eager to prise each and every one of them from his fat furry lips.


    Two more orders were given, each demanding an answer. Powerless to resist, the dwarf had admitted that my rep loss meant nothing to him, and that he hadn¡¯t rushed off to guard my respawn point during the fight, after all. He claimed that he had, however, gone to speak to NoobSlayer on my behalf. And that puzzled me. If Samusk had truly left me in the lurch to seek reinforcements, why not just say so in the first place. And the statement begged another question: had my would-be trainer chosen to leave me to my fate?


    Further interrogation would have to wait, however. There was a man the size of a mountain gorilla looming over us, and that sort of thing tended to get my attention. His sword was easily the size of my leg, and the blood on the blade looked worryingly fresh.


    ¡°If the ¡®emperor¡¯ and his minion could afford a moment for one of his lowly citizens, we have matters to discuss,¡± he announced, his voice one of mock servitude.


    The tip of the huge blade promptly found its way to my neck.


    ¡°First of all, yer late.¡±


    Another barbarian strode forward to join him. This one was surprisingly lanky, a skull adorned bruiser with an abundance of tattoos. He scratched himself incessantly, and his jet-black hair was spiked in every conceivable direction. Given the lack of available resources, I didn¡¯t want to think what he was using to spike it.


    ¡°An example must be set,¡± hissed the spikey one in an incredibly creepy tone. ¡°Punishment must be dispensed.¡±


    The bigger man sheaved his sword and cracked his knuckles. ¡°This is true, otherwise everyone would just follow suit, and we can¡¯t be havin¡¯ that now, can we?¡±


    ¡°Um, you do realize that breaking my arms won¡¯t help my productivity, right?¡± I interjected, feebly.


    ¡°Losin¡¯ 40% of yer HP shouldn¡¯t hamper your efforts too badly, though,¡± he replied with a smirk, cracking his neck as he spoke. Then he stopped, leaned in toward me, and stared. ¡°Hmm, a slaveowner, eh?¡±


    Oh shit! I hadn¡¯t even stopped to consider how the other prisoners may view my new ¡®trait¡¯. Yes, I was now a useful asset to a leader. But how did my potential slaves feel about my new role?


    ¡°I see you¡¯re level one,¡± he continued, leaning back. ¡°New to the role, yeah? So, I¡¯d imagine that yeh probably aren¡¯t aware yet that yeh can defer yer punishment to your minion, should you choose to.¡±


    ¡°I can?¡± I gasped.


    ¡°He can?¡± added Samusk, his voice now lacking its usual arrogance.


    ¡°Sure,¡± replied the gorilla with a shrug. ¡°Makes no difference to me. If anythin¡¯, beatin¡¯ the shit outta the noob with crap resistance is much more efficient. They bleed easier.¡±


    The lanky barbarian grinned at this thought and began cracking his own heavily tattooed knuckles.


    ¡°Great,¡± I replied with an enthusiastic smile. ¡°Substitution agreed.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± spluttered Samusk. ¡°Hold on, you¡¯re supposed to be my-¡±


    He stopped himself mid-sentence, powerless to reveal our ¡®employment arrangement¡¯ in front of the two strangers.


    ¡°Owner, that¡¯s right,¡± I cut in, smugly. ¡°Relax Samusk, you heard the man, he won¡¯t kill you. He¡¯d only have one less worker if he did, and that¡¯s hardly in his best interests, is it?¡±


    ¡°You orc-fucking bastard¡­¡±


    ¡°Now, now, there¡¯s no need for talk like that. Obviously, I¡¯d take the beating myself, but what could I possibly gain from that? I¡¯ve already maxed out my resilience stat, at least until I reach the next level in my primary skill. Meanwhile, it¡¯s probably safe to say you haven¡¯t done jack shit to increase yours. Tell me what it is, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Zero,¡± he spat, rendered powerless to resist by the wording of the question. I was getting the hang of this ¡®slaveowner¡¯ trait.


    ¡°And I thought dwarves were supposed to have better endurance than humans.¡± I shook my head. ¡°No, that won¡¯t do at all. Obviously, as your master, I won¡¯t let anyone damage my property without my prior consent. But this dungeon is a dangerous place, and we need to toughen you up. What if you were to, I dunno, trip down a flight of stairs, or something.¡±


    ¡°Bassstard¡­¡± he hissed.


    ¡°It¡¯s settled. As your master I have a duty to strengthen you. And with that in mind, getting battered down to 20% could be the best thing that ever happened to you. Hell, you might even gain a base point, if you¡¯re lucky.¡±


    ¡°If you want him to gain his first resilience point, we really need to take him to the brink,¡± added the big one with a smirk.


    ¡°Now hold on a minute,¡± spluttered Samusk.


    ¡°Perfect. And I thank you for your advice, if only everyone was so keen to share information around here.¡±


    I stared directly at the dwarf as I spoke the words. The little bugger actually growled at me in return.


    ¡°Trust me, Samusk, this is all for the greater good. You know, like a -3 rep penalty. The lads here have to be seen to punish us for our tardiness¡­¡±


    ¡®The lads¡¯ nodded in agreement.


    ¡°¡­and besides, allocating you this small task frees me up to get started earning us some coin.¡± I leaned in, adding with a whisper: ¡°and don¡¯t forget¡­ we¡¯re supposed to be convincing everyone here that I own you. What self-respecting slaveowner takes a beating on behalf of his damn minion. Do you really want me to look soft in front of our potential allies?¡±


    ¡°So help me, I will find a way to develop the assassination skill and murder ye in yer sleep,¡± muttered the dwarf, his eyes now seething with hatred.


    ¡°See? you¡¯re finally motivated to improve yourself. My plan to help you level up your skills is working already. Plus, the resilience boost you¡¯ll hopefully gain from this will make you harder for me to kill if I do have to fend off your murderistic tendencies in the middle of the night.¡± With that, I turned to the duo. ¡°Um, you do promise that you won¡¯t kill him, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, whatever,¡± replied the lanky, impatient looking barbarian with the tats.


    ¡°See, Samusk? How can you be worried? I¡¯d trust these guys with m- eh, your life.¡±


    ¡°Hey Smitty, you¡¯ve installed that basketball net fer the rec area, yeah?¡± called the big one over his shoulder.


    A distant half-orc nodded.


    ¡°Fantastic. Clear the rubble from the area and we¡¯ll shoot some hoops.¡± He looked down at Samusk, his intent worryingly clear, before adding: ¡°I¡¯ve finally found us a ball.¡±


    With that, he grabbed my panicking employer by the throat, carrying him away with the lack of care that a child might afford its doll. The lanky barbarian quickly made to follow.


    ¡°Not you,¡± barked the larger man, putting his accomplice back in his place. ¡°You put the swords-noob to work. He¡¯s missed two hours already.¡±


    As the man-mountain carried Samusk off, I felt a little guilty. But only a little. The dwarf was too soft. In truth, he probably needed this. I told myself that if we could boost his resilience a little, it would ultimately make my job easier, and make things easier for him in the long run, too. It was a no-brainer that he¡¯d be easier to protect if he wasn¡¯t so damned easy to kill. Not only that, but it sent a message that really needed to be communicated, after that rep penalty he stuck me with.


    Don¡¯t fuck with me, short stuff. I¡¯m not your damn lap-dog.


    Thinking about how he¡¯d played me, any thoughts of guilt quickly evaporated. Why did I have to think of his wellbeing at all, I found myself wondering. He¡¯d freely admitted that he didn¡¯t give a fuck about mine. Yes, there was the money, and I still needed a sword. But now that I had the slaveowner skill, I could easily renegotiate our contract. Hell, if I choose to, I could make him pay to work for me.


    The more I thought about it, the more adamant I became. I¡¯d spent too long dicking around already, begging for scraps of information from the miniature manipulator. My mission was my priority, not him. And my development was too serious for me to keep waiting for guidance that was too-often withheld as part of the dwarf¡¯s larger strategy. yes, I would rather have been a friend to my new cell-mate. For us to have worked together, helping each other survive this hellhole. But he¡¯d acted against my interests, tricked me into damning myself further, all to increase his own chances of survival here. That couldn¡¯t be overlooked. IRL I¡¯d have left him in a pool of his own blood, giving thanks for the small amount of breath that I¡¯d left in his permanently broken body. But I couldn¡¯t afford to kick him to the curb, nor did I want to lose the income he afforded me. Not yet.


    There and then I made up my mind. Samusk had sealed his own fate, and was now little more than a resource for me to exploit in my quest to kill the Dungeon Warden. Hell, he¡¯d even made it official when he bent the knee. In the meantime, there was no guilt to be taken from my actions. Perhaps a little tough love would teach him to learn his place.


    My coldness surprised me. Was the slaveowner trait hardening me, manipulating my thoughts just as my weak charisma manipulated those around me? In truth, I knew that was what I wanted to believe, but little more. A dark side of me was returning: a side that I had hoped had been burned away with my old body.


    Ultimately, it was all a matter of perspective. I was either learning to become savvier in how I used my available resources, or I was learning how to be a bigger bastard.


    Ultimately, it didn¡¯t matter which. I was going to have to level up both those aspects of my own programming, if I was going to survive.

 Chapter 12.3

    ¡°Thank fuck he¡¯s out of my hair for a while,¡± I announced, addressing the remaining barbarian. ¡°Slaves, eh? Can¡¯t live with them, can¡¯t flush them down the dungeon privy¡­¡±


    The statement drew only a dejected stare from the spiky-haired one. He didn¡¯t seem that interested in putting me to work. In fact, he didn¡¯t seem particularly interested in doing anything, besides staring off into the distance like an AI deficient NPC. After a minute or so, he finally spoke. Or to be more specific, he moaned.


    ¡°I wanted to kick the shit outta the dwarf. It¡¯s not bloody fair.¡±


    What the hell? Was he actually¡­ pouting? I couldn¡¯t believe it. It was a sharp reminder that this was not the fantasy world that it claimed to be. Nor was this a mighty barbarian warrior. The big baby was actually sulking. For a moment, I wondered if he might have an old sword that he could trade me, in exchange for an opportunity to grind his dwarf punching skills. But the thought quickly passed. I¡¯d already taken my vengeance on my prick of an employer, and I couldn¡¯t justify subjecting him to a further ass-kicking, much as I wanted to. So instead I announced¡­


    ¡°Um, yeah, anyway. So before we start, I¡¯m starving.¡± I patted my abs for extra effect. ¡°I ah, heard this gig comes with meals, and I haven¡¯t actually had breakfast yet, so uh, where¡¯s the food, friend?¡±


    ¡°Right over there,¡± replied the bored-looking barbarian, pointing across the room.


    To my dismay, I was not met with the sight of a fully stocked breakfast buffet. He was pointing to the same colossal dead thing that I¡¯d already spied upon entry. The partially-dissected corpse wasn¡¯t appetizing in the slightest. Even less so when I remembered what it had recently been stuffed with: me.


    ¡°Haha. But no, seriously. Where¡¯s breakfast? I¡¯m not too late, am I?¡±


    ¡°Your only guaranteed meals are lunch and dinner, noob-face,¡± he sneered, taking a moment to stretch and yawn.


    Noob-face? What age was this guy, IRL?


    ¡°If you want to eat, you¡¯ll have to work for it first,¡± he continued. ¡°And on that tedious note, I suppose we should discuss your new job, courtesy of Kronan the badly-named barbarian¡­¡±


    Hmmm, ¡®SkullFucker¡¯ was evidently not a fan of the big cheese, then¡­


    ¡°When your pet dwarf returns, he¡¯ll be transporting the mob-meat to the mouth of the cave¡­¡±


    ¡°And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?¡± I asked, glaring at the other swordsmen as they sliced away at the corpse. ¡°Rip it apart with my bare hands?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the dwarf told us that you lost your sword,¡± he replied with a judgmental sneer. ¡°It takes a special kind of dumb-ass to manage that on his first fuckin¡¯ day.¡±


    My fists clenched, but I stopped myself from acting on my rage. It was time to learn a little restraint.


    ¡°That¡¯s why yer pet dwarf asked us to put you on building duty,¡± he continued. ¡°So, no carvery duty for you¡­ that¡¯s your lot over there.¡±


    He pointed to a group of half-orcs and barbarians on the other side of the room. Admittedly, I hadn¡¯t noticed them, being much too distracted by my impending doom, and my clever attempts to reallocate it to the irritating dwarf in my life. The workers in question were lugging around large slabs of granite, partitioning off a section of the vast chamber into what appeared to be a row of brand-new cells.


    ¡°Not typical swordsman work, I¡¯ll admit,¡± he continued. ¡°But strength seems to be something you have an abundance of. You know, for a noob.¡±


    ¡°What about the magic users?¡± I asked. ¡°Why are there so many of them just standing around like that?¡±


    ¡°The wand-jerkers are just here to stand guard,¡± he sneered, confirming my suspicions. ¡°We¡¯re not that far behind the front line, after all. Anything could sneak past the raid party and come crawling out of those damn tunnels. Clan Kronan had to hire ¡®em to light up the joint anyway. Makes sense to put ¡¯em on guard duty afterwards.¡±


    I got the impression that the barbarian was using ¡®briefing¡¯ me as an opportunity to get out of doing his own work, whatever it was. And that was fine by me if it helped me to gain a little more knowledge.


    ¡°So¡­ they must be pretty powerful wizards then?¡± I asked, wondering what my odds were of slipping past one to go mob-hunting.


    ¡°Pffft. That pack of apprentice class-holes are fodder, at best. Kronan knows how to keep the costs down if nothing else. If some bastard does come slitherin¡¯ out of those tunnels, it¡¯ll be the arcane types job to ambush it with range attacks. When the mana starts flying, that¡¯s the alarm. Buys the zeros time to run, and the swordsman and half-orcs time to prepare for battle. Or to bugger off, if they have any damn sense.¡±


    So, there was a possibility that I might still see action, even without an ¡®official¡¯ combat role. That was promising, given my quest to acquire high-quality food for the Knight. Then, of course, I remembered that I still didn¡¯t have a weapon compatible with my skillset to fight the fucking mobs with. Damn.


    Then something else occurred to me, and my heart sank further. If ¡®boss bastard¡¯ was on the canteen menu tonight, there was no way I could compete with that. It was looking like I was going to have to satisfy another of my trainer¡¯s vices. And after what Kriabal told me about the meth, my options were becoming worryingly limited. At this rate, I was going to be ¡®squiring¡¯ out my ass after all.


    A crackle of what could only be wand fire echoed through the chamber, and the apprentices began yelling.


    Holy crap. It¡¯s like watching the oxygen masks drop from overhead the moment the cabin crew have given the safety instructions. Can¡¯t I catch a fucking break, here?


    Something was charging from the central tunnel, and it tore through the arcane guard¡¯s spells like they were little more than a light show. It was another animalistic beast, and it was the stuff of nightmares. The mob had a charcoal-grey body much like that of a pit-bull, if such a thing were capable of growing to the size of a fucking panther. Its spine was coated in broad ridges of bone, its limbs thick and muscular. But the creature¡¯s most alarming trait was its head: specifically, the fact that it didn¡¯t fucking have one. Its body seemed to stop at the base of the neck, and what substituted for the missing appendage was little more than a circular maw of teeth surrounded by crimson, glowing eyes.


    ¡°Mob on the loose,¡± came a cry, stating the fucking obvious to all assembled as the creature powered across the vast chamber, leaving the apprentices in its dust. A barbarian was next to charge out from the darkness, gasping for breath as he made his pursuit, the claw marks that littered his torso confirming his failure. It was he who allowed the beast to slip past. Upon his arrival, the swords-noobs turned from their own (lifeless) opponent and followed the weary barbarian¡¯s charge, doubtlessly keen to prove their worth to the higher-ranking warrior.


    The NPC guards were next to respond, abandoning their posts at the furthest edges of the lair, converging as one in the hope of heading off the beast¡¯s break for freedom.


    The sheer number of warriors rushing to fell the vicious-looking mob should have put me at ease. There was just one small problem. It was headed straight for me.


    ¡°SkullFucker,¡± cried the axe-wielding barbarian from across the chamber. ¡°You wanted to be a proper member? Now¡¯s your fucking chance. Stop that thing before it reaches the tunnel.¡±


    My reluctant guide stood there, stammering a response that never actually came. We were in the best possible spot to intercept, not yet having joined the workers on the fringes of the vast room. But what he saw as a death sentence, I saw as an opportunity. And if the lanky barbarian didn¡¯t want it, I was more than happy to grasp said opportunity with both hands.


    ¡°Give me your sword,¡± I demanded, turning to face him.


    ¡°W-what?¡±


    ¡°If you aren¡¯t prepared to fight, I fucking will. Worst case scenario, I¡¯ll draw the thing away from you by attacking it.¡±


    He nervously began to unsheathe his sword from its scabbard. It was a fairly basic blade embellished with a skull-engraved handle. Crucially, it was a hell of a lot longer than my dagger. But as the creature sped closer to us, his tightly clenched fists made it abundantly clear that he was not about to give up his only form of protection, even if he was too petrified to use it.


    Cursing him I drew my own dagger from my inventory, followed by my shield. The apprentice¡¯s magic had run off the beast¡¯s body like rainwater, and that alone told me that I was easily outclassed. Worse, the thing would be on us in seconds. I could potentially dodge it with my own impressive speed, leaving the delightfully named ¡®SkullFucker¡¯ to take the bullet. But that was hardly going to impress my potential gang, was it? How did that make me any different from the rest of the screaming noobs and zeros who were now frantically running for cover?


    Plus, Kriabal was guarding the other end of the tunnel, but he was only anticipating the light-fingered prisoners who might try to get in. If this thing really was making a break for freedom via the tunnel, that meant that it was headed straight for him, and the last thing the warlock would be expecting would be for this ugly bastard to pounce on him from behind. Kriabal was a potential ally, and having strong allies only made me stronger. I wouldn¡¯t let him fall to a sneak attack. I held my ground.


    Go hard or go home.


    Alas mere seconds from impact, Skullfucker decided to go home, his lanky body making a mad scramble to the outskirts of the chamber, taking his sword with him.


    Coward.


    Shield drawn, I braced myself. It was now obvious that the creature wasn¡¯t going to slow its escape by going around. It was going to go through me. The realization was confirmed as its weight came crashing against me. I prayed that my high resilience and doubled defense would be enough to keep me on my feet so that I might stand a chance of quickly fighting back. It wasn¡¯t, and we both went tumbling. My HP was reduced by a fifth in one strike, but the shield had stopped the things horrific fang-laden asshole of a face from tasting my all-too vulnerable flesh.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Thank you, Kriabal. I¡¯d owe you, but I just saved your fucking life.


    I received a warning to say that my shields durability was all but gone, but the important thing was that it had held, helping me stop the beast¡¯s momentum. I shrugged off my daze and got on all fours, desperately willing my battered avatar to get back to its feet. I failed, imprisoned by the effect of the all-to-familiar ¡®stunned¡¯ debuff. But when I eventually raised my head a few seconds later, I realized that there was no longer need for haste. Before the beast had returned to its own feet the swarm of warriors and NPC guards had taken advantage, bringing down a rain of blades spears and axes that quickly overwhelmed the mob. A pained yelp of a death-cry rang out through the chamber, as the hopelessly outnumbered beast fell, its once powerful body reduced to little more than a bloody pile of monster pulp.


    -[ You deflected an attack by an opponent whose level greatly surpasses your own. This was an impressive feat. XP gained: Defense: 60. Resilience: 60. This action has gained you one extra base point in defense. XP required to reach the next level: 72. XP until next resilience level: 90. Warning: resilience XP has been rejected. Cap reached. ]-


    Shit! Unlike my special bonus for being a ¡®scrappy dude¡¯, the resilience XP I¡¯d gained by standing my ground hadn¡¯t been banked. And I couldn¡¯t afford to waste experience points like that. I had a warden to kill, after all, and that meant that every single scrap of XP now counted. I felt oddly defeated. The next message to pop up, however, gave me hope.


    -[ Would you like to reallocate this XP to another skill? Warning: A 50% penalty will apply. ]-


    Hell yeah. Losing half was a lot better than losing it all. I selected yes, and promptly put the 30XP into perception. I was still 49XP from acquiring my first base point in the hard-to-level stat, as it was proving to be insanely difficult to grind. But I had resilience in spades, so even with the 50% penalty, it seemed like a good investment. Perhaps, it occurred to me, this was a cheat of sorts. I could raise an easy-to-level skill to its cap, then divert the excess XP into the more elusive skills that I was still having difficulty with. It would be slow, given the penalty involved. But I desperately needed perception and charisma, so it was good to have the option, that¡¯s for sure.


    Still resting on my knees and elbows and feeling a little woozy, I suddenly realized that I had company. Two furry boots were standing before me. Unless Ugg boots were now the must-have fashion trend in Atone Online, I knew that it could only be a barbarian.


    ¡°Well done mate,¡± he began, in an accent that I instantly recognized as English. ¡°If that bastard had made its way into the main prison, the warden would have had my fucking balls.¡±


    He pointed to the swarm of bodies, then added: ¡°To be honest, I¡¯m Impressed that Fido there didn¡¯t plow straight through you. Never seen a swordsman tank like that before.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m tougher than the average noob, I replied, accepting his offer of a hand up. I didn¡¯t mean to wince as I got back to my feet, though. You know, because I was trying to look tough, dammit.


    Face to face, we both came to the same realization. We¡¯d met before. Sort of. It was a barbarian from the raid party. The one with the shaved head, bone axes and the lion tattooed on his chest. He looked at me, giving me an almost comical double-take.


    ¡°Well fuck me rigid, if it isn¡¯t the bloody cavalry. You saved my life yesterday, ah¡­¡± he looked above my avatar, then added, ¡°¡­Shade. Granted, I died anyway, shortly after you left. But not before seriously impressing my boss by helping take down that fucking cunt.¡± He nodded in the direction of the now abandoned corpse, adding: The name¡¯s BullDogBrit, by the way.¡±


    Fuck. Why is it every time I meet one of the fuckers I¡¯m trying to impress, they¡¯re helping me pick myself off the damn floor?


    What had been a hand-up quickly became a handshake, and the prisoner began to shower me with praise. Like the warlock, BullDogBrit seemed keen to offer me a favor in return. I was impressed by his good nature, until he went on to explain that there were rumors of a karma skill that could be developed, and that he was keen to be the first to develop it in order to gain a ¡®trailblazer¡¯ reward. As to whether or not his motivation was legitimately good-intentioned, or if he was simply using me to acquire a new skill, well, I honestly didn¡¯t care: a favor was something I could use, either way. Specifically, it was the perfect opportunity for me to explain that I was hoping to meet with General Nyx, with the ultimate goal of joining his gang. I nervously asked if that was a meeting he could facilitate.


    After I made my request the barbarian gave me a slightly puzzled look. Eventually, he broke the awkward silence between us.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re clearly not a barbarian, and running around with yer nips out isn¡¯t going to convince anyone, mate. But you are sword class, so it¡¯s conceivable that they might consider you for recruitment, if you can impress them enough. You¡¯ve certainly impressed me over the last couple of days, though. Look, I¡¯ll have a word with her for you, yeah? But truth be told, I¡¯d be shafting you if I tried to pass that off as a way of showing my thanks, Nyx already wants to talk to you as it is.¡±


    She does?


    ¡°And hell, tracking you down can only help lessen the bollocking she¡¯s going to give me for letting that damn hellhound get past us. So with that in mind, surely there¡¯s something else I can do for you to help balance my debt.¡±


    ¡°Could you get me a sword?¡± I asked, somewhat shamelessly.


    ¡°Sorry mate, I¡¯m an axe man, myself,¡± he replied, hoisting up one of his impressive bone blades. As he did so an apprentice rushed to his side and began to cast something. That was when I noticed that the barbarian¡¯s wounds were healing, just as Mai had healed mine. The hulking Englishman gave the tiny apprentice a thumbs up, then continued.


    ¡°Any time I find a sword, I sell it. You¡¯ll find no one holds onto anything they don¡¯t need around here, there¡¯s always a buyer, no matter how low the items stats are. But I¡¯ve been thinking¡­ if you¡¯re hoping to join us via a referral from Nyx, you¡¯ll need all the luck you can get. She can be a bit of a hard-ass. I¡¯m not normally the generous sort, but you¡¯ve helped me twice now, and as I said, I believe in karma, so¡­¡±


    The words trailed off as he reached into his own inventory, taking out a necklace. It was possibly silver, consisting of a thin leather strap and a pendant with a design that was either supposed to be a horseshoe, or an ¡®omega¡¯ symbol. He smiled and pushed it into my hand.


    -[ You have been gifted a charm of good fortune (weak). Effect: Luck +1. Durability: 20/20. ]-


    ¡°Just found it an hour ago in a loot chest,¡± he explained. ¡°Should raise your luck stat a little, and hopefully improve your odds of getting to join us.¡±


    Wow, definitely a horseshoe then.


    A luck artifact. One whole base point, just like that. Well, that confirmed it. I was becoming a huge fan of items that boosted my stats just by wearing them. I resolved to get my mitts on as many of such items as possible, even if I had to resort to using my thievery skill to acquire them. My mission was life or death, after all. I pictured myself as a noob powerhouse with whopping stats and a jewelry collection to rival B.A. Baracus. The image made me smile.


    ¡°Surely this is something you could benefit from yourself?¡± I asked, studying the item.


    ¡°It is. But I already have a pendant that adds four points to my armed combat stat. And in my job, I¡¯d be crazy to give that up.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t wear both?¡± I asked, suddenly cursing my own inquisitiveness. What the hell was I playing at? Was I trying to talk him out of giving it to me?


    ¡°Not without the crafting skill necessary to merge them, no,¡± he replied with a shrug of his huge shoulders. ¡°And it¡¯s only one item per body part. Same way I can¡¯t hold both axes in one hand or wear two pairs of bracers for extra protection. You probably haven¡¯t gained enough items to realize it yet, but the game¡¯s pretty strict when it comes to the number of items you can use at once.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ thank you,¡± I replied, placing the item around my neck. It seemed to glow for a moment, then return to its previous state.


    ¡°No problem,¡± he replied, giving me what was probably supposed to be a playful punch in the arm. Another 8HP fell away from my recently assaulted avatar. I made a mental note to get out of arms reach before he literally killed me with kindness.


    The barbarian paused for a moment, a look of disappointment spreading across his face. He evidently didn¡¯t get that karma skill he was after, then. He sighed, then added: ¡°Oh, and a word of warning. I may ask for it back someday if my circumstances change. So, I guess what I¡¯m really saying is, don¡¯t go selling it, I haven¡¯t technically relinquished ownership. For now, though, it¡¯s more useful around your scrawny neck than it is gathering dust in my inventory, eh?¡±


    Maybe I was being too hard on BulldogBrit. Yes, he was being driven by the desire for a karma boost, but hadn¡¯t I also expected a rep boost for helping Samusk, back in the canteen? We were all too wrapped up in our own advancement, regardless of our good or bad nature. But if a prisoner¡¯s first instinct was always to sell the items they didn¡¯t need, Bulldog was clearly going against that instinct on my behalf. I was fairly certain that he could fetch a pretty penny for an item that increased the wearer¡¯s luck. Yes, it was technically a loan, but I wasn¡¯t complaining. I had a thirty-day deadline to worry about, and I needed all the luck I could get. If anything, surely my new luck would prevent him from taking the item back before I was done with it, right?


    ¡°You two,¡± announced one of the NPC guards that were now beginning to return to their posts. ¡°Move along.¡±


    ¡°Gimmie a break, you fucking puppet,¡± spat BulldogBrit. ¡°If that hellhound had made it into the main dungeon, the warden would have had your balls on a plate right after mine. This lad did you a damn favor.¡±


    ¡°Pfffft. From where I was standing, all he did was fall on his ass. Now move it. There¡¯ll be plenty of time for the noob to chinwag when he¡¯s earned his lunch rations. Neither of you is here to gossip like a pair of cackling old witches. Get back to work before I report you both.¡±


    ¡°Sheesh, what crawled up his code?¡± I mumbled, admittedly out of the guard¡¯s earshot. The last thing I needed was another point-blank burst of mana to the face.


    ¡°Ignore him,¡± replied Bulldog, ¡°He¡¯s just pissed because they needed the help of a lowly AAI to do their fucking job.¡±


    ¡°AAI?¡±


    ¡°Artificial artificial intelligence. We¡¯re all fakes in their eyes. I suppose they have a point, too. Don¡¯t worry about it, they¡¯re just a pack of bigoted bytes. That¡¯s why we call ¡®em puppets in return, winds ¡®em up no end. Anyway, I¡¯d better get back, those ugly bastards on the front line aren¡¯t gonna slay themselves. And don¡¯t worry, first chance I get, I¡¯ll have that word with Nyx on your behalf, tell her what you did for us today. With any luck, next time we meet, you¡¯ll be on a raid party.¡±


    With that, he turned to the apprentice who¡¯d been healing his wounds throughout. ¡°Yo, cast heal on this noob, will ya? Can¡¯t have him looking banged up for his big interview.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate that, thanks.¡±


    As he walked away, the apprentice got to work, and I slowly began to take in everything that had happened in the last ten minutes or so. To say I felt a real sense of achievement was an understatement. Even better, I¡¯d done it without the aid of the backstabbing dwarf.


    While I waited for my HP to recharge, I cast a hopeful glance to the spot where the beast had fallen, hoping to find something worth scavenging. To my disappointment the corpse had already been cleared away, only to be replaced by an exhausted-looking cleaner who was working hard to scrub the creature¡¯s thick black blood from the granite floor.


    That¡¯ll be the homemaker skill in action, I realized. If the amount of bloodletting I¡¯d seen so far was anything to go by, that poor bastard would be getting plenty of opportunities to level up.


    A minute or so passed, after which the apprentice bid me farewell and returned to his role as a guard. The low-level wizard had quickly restored my HP, chiefly because I had so damn little of it to begin with, compared to the level of fighter he was used to healing. He¡¯d reminded me of Mai as he¡¯d worked, and no, the wrinkled old man did not have the visual appeal of the top-heavy elf, not even close. But the way he¡¯d patched me up had brought back memories of Siriso¡¯s hut. The only good ones I had.


    As my thoughts wandered, I found myself missing the elf. And not just because I could really use access to a help file, right about now. I missed her cheery disposition, too. And I¡¯ll admit it, I yearned for that incredibly proportioned avatar of hers, pervert that I was. During character selection I¡¯d been perplexed by her odd behavior, licking my ears while I was trying to make such important decisions about my future. Now, her touch was all I could think about. Granted, she was only code, but technically so was I, thanks to my jailers. Sooooo, in that respect, we were kinda made for each other now, right?


    In truth, I could also do with easy access to her healing gift. But in my short time as a prisoner, I¡¯d spent an alarming amount of time looking like I¡¯d just been in a car accident. Yep, an elf-shaped first-aid-kit would come in reeeal handy if things continued like this. I made a mental note to ask Samusk where I might find myself a new one.


    Speaking of which, the (now bloodied) dwarf had already returned from ¡®our¡¯ punishment, reluctantly taking his place next to the boss-meat deli counter. Judging by the dagger-laden looks he was giving me, I¡¯d seriously pissed him off.


    Good.


    Another threat was fired at me by the tetchy NPC guard, this time accompanied by a spear-tip to the back, a sharp (very sharp) reminder that I had better stop daydreaming and go earn my fucking breakfast, even if it would be lunch by the time I finally got my hands on it.


    And with that, I headed across the chamber to begin my new career as a builder of dungeons.

 Chapter 13.1

    It felt kind of strange, being the only swordsman among the group of hulking, muscular avatars that had been allocated to construction. But I could tell that manual labor wasn¡¯t the worst option available to me. Not by a long shot. Had I still possessed a decent-sized blade, I¡¯d be on carvery duty like the rest of the swords-noobs. And given the foul stench that was emanating from the carcass, the smell of sweat from the weary builders was by far the lesser of two evils.


    The half-orcs and barbarians pretty much ignored me as I wandered amongst them. Each one was completely focused on partitioning off their gloomy corner of the boss chamber, all to create what was destined to be a multitude of pokey cells, just like my own. Above us hung a deep balcony that (I could only assume) would soon be repurposed into yet another floor of grim-yet-functional accommodation. And to the left of me, a colossal metallic statue lay on its side, thoughtlessly toppled to give the builders better access to their workspace.


    Crouching to stare into the idol¡¯s expertly sculpted face, I felt sorry for the now fallen deity. Once upon a time, he was probably worshiped by the NPCs, his golden skin a mark of the value their society had placed upon him. And now? Now the poor bastard was truly forsaken, demoted from divine spirit to little more than scrap metal. I was beginning to understand how this dungeon worked, and it gave me a fair idea of his destiny. He would be skinned, the shavings melted down to make gold coins. The base-metal underneath would be used to forge tools or weapons. His new owners would burn him away until all that remained was the spirit behind the veneer. And if the skeletons in the cavern were anything to go by, then I doubted that there was even a soul left to remember him. The shadow stallion had wiped them out, just as we¡¯d destroyed it. Without his worshipers, had the forsaken god ever really existed? Once his body was burned away and his spirit forgotten, how would anyone even know that he¡¯d been a part of their world at all?


    ¡°You and I have a lot in common, buddy,¡± I morosely stated.


    Of course, there was another much less defeatist way of interpreting the deity¡¯s plight. The world had made the nameless god into little more than a resource, one that would now be put to purpose by those who had assumed control. It was the perfect metaphor for the dungeon in general: the same thing was happening to the prisoners everywhere I looked. For every party who found themselves being treated as little more than a resource, there was another who was benefiting from their toil, and if necessary, their fall. And I knew what side I wanted to be on. I was done letting the bastards use me to get what they wanted: I needed to be the one using them. Hell, I¡¯d even gained the perfect trait for the job: slaveowner. And I already had my first soul in my grasp.


    Just a resource for me to use, I thought to myself, darkly. That¡¯s all anyone who dares to cross me is going to be, from now on.


    A satisfied smirk found its way to my face as everything fell into place. But just as suddenly, I pulled myself back from the brink.


    What the hell is wrong with me?


    I slapped myself in the face, drawing a few puzzled looks from my fellow workers. How did my thoughts end up on that dark path? I¡¯d begun to revel in the notion of taking more slaves, a thought that would have disgusted me only this morning. Was my dubious new trait corrupting my vulnerable code? Yes, I¡¯ll admit, I have a dark side buried within me, a side of me that I¡¯m still fighting to be free of. I wouldn¡¯t even be here if I didn¡¯t. But this was something new. Something darker. And the timing couldn¡¯t be a coincidence. Perhaps this was the difference between a ¡®trait¡¯ and a ¡®skill¡¯. Was the dark attribute rewriting my personaware on a digital level, and pushing me toward a much shadier destiny?This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I¡¯d just about come to terms with that worrying theory when an even more horrifying thought occurred to me.


    But hang on. What if my new trait isn¡¯t what¡¯s manipulating my thoughts? What if this is who I really was, to begin with?


    I recalled the declaration by the ghoul Norahc, back when I¡¯d only just been ¡®reborn¡¯. ¡®The digital transfer of your consciousness from your meat media into personaware was an 82% success,¡¯ he¡¯d claimed. And I¡¯d been furious. A part of my very soul had been stripped away, leaving my ¡®file¡¯ incomplete. The memory rebuild was supposed to be putting back my lost data, and I¡¯d been more than happy to let it run in the background, doing just that. But what if that code was damaged in more ways than one? What if they¡¯d cut away the worst part of me, and it was slowly returning? If that was driving the darkness that now welled within me, what the hell sort of man was I, to begin with?


    Clicking my status panel¡¯s ¡®diagnostic¡¯ icon, I learned that my memory rebuild was currently sitting at 38%. There wasn¡¯t a ¡®pause¡¯ button, a potential reprieve until I figured things out. And that worried me. If my latter theory was correct, how long would it be until some dark aspect of my personality kicked in, and overwrote the man I now thought I was? At its current rate, I¡¯d be ¡®whole¡¯ again in a matter of days.


    Disturbed by the entire train of thought, I pushed the theories as deep down inside me as I could manage, resolving to do my damnedest to cling to the man who I believed myself to be at all costs. Of course, that would probably be a lot easier said, than done: I¡¯d also resolved to do whatever it takes to complete Siriso¡¯s quest, and there was no way in hell that I¡¯d reach that goal without getting my hands dirty.


    Needing a distraction from the creeping realization that I was totally fucked, I continued on and quickly learned that the statue of the fallen god was not the only figure sprawled out before me. A dead barbarian also lay nearby, his body sprawled out next to a pile of building materials. His head had been callously bashed open with one of the smaller bricks, allowing his avatar¡¯s crimson contents to spill out onto the grey rubble. It made for a gruesome sight, and was a harsh reminder of the hardness of the world I now resided in.


    I¡¯d seen such sights before, of course, back in my old life. One of my former bosses had not been averse to making a mess of his own during ah¡­ interrogations. His brutality had far surpassed my own, and this was much more like his handiwork. But what made it all the more chilling, was the way the other prisoners simply ignored the body, stepping over the headless corpse with nary a second thought or glance. It seemed that if anything, our ¡®immortality¡¯ only encouraged further violence. Death was a devalued currency here, thanks to our inherent ability to respawn. What was once an escape from prison, albeit in a cramped pine box, was now merely an extended sentence for all involved.


    I leaned in for a closer look. There wasn¡¯t anything left of the hulking brute¡¯s face for me to recognize, but I knew the body, well enough. It had been kicking the shit out of me only yesterday. It was TinyTheTankEngine.


    ¡°Good riddance,¡± I declared, spitting on his lifeless corpse. As I checked his inventory for items (like the thief that I now apparently was) I savored the possibility that he might respawn as a level 1, a precarious position from which to pick further fights. Then I cursed under my breath as I learned that the slightly unorthodox loot crate had already been picked clean by the other prisoners, leaving him with little more than the armor-plated clothing on his back. I shamelessly attempted to unfasten his bracers, hoping to replace my own ¡®purely cosmetic¡¯ arm-straps, when a status message suddenly took me by surprise.


    -[ Thievery attempt failed. This armor is soul-bound. Soul-bound items may only change hands with the owner¡¯s consent. ]-


    Shit! Oh well, at least I¡¯d learned something new in the attempt. Evidently, there was a way to protect items from potential thieves. I¡¯d be picking Samusk¡¯s brain about that one when I next got the chance. Just one more question in a long line of enquiries that I needed to run by my (now considerably more cooperative) employer. Then a thought struck me: player¡¯s bodies usually disappeared after about five minutes or so, thanks to the game¡¯s inbuilt clean-up engine. And that meant that whoever did this to the dumb fuck was probably still close. And if he or she could take down Tiny so easily, that scared the shit out of me.

 Chapter 13.2

    ¡°Disagreement with the foreman,¡± offered an unexpected voice by way of explanation.


    The announcement had come from behind me, and it belonged to the strategically-shaved gorilla who¡¯d harassed us when I¡¯d entered the reclaimed boss chamber. His newfound smile was slightly reassuring, but only just. Either he was feeling much friendlier (having worked out his frustrations on my furry-faced associate) or he was imagining how much fun he was going to have punching me until Tiny and I became a matching set. I prayed that it wouldn¡¯t be the latter, quietly giving thanks for my decision to purchase the ankle blade. It would be faster to reach than the superior dagger stored in my inventory, if he gave me cause to reach for it.


    I stood up straight and puffed out my chest, trying my best to look tough. Then I returned my gaze to the gory remains of the building worker. ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll be staying clear of your foreman, if I can help it. He must be a bit of a psychopath.¡±


    ¡°That he is,¡± the stranger replied, adding: ¡°But I¡¯d prefer that you address me by my full title, Grom, King of the Psychopaths.¡± His sly smile crept wider.


    Oh shit. The shaved gorilla did this? And to Tiny, of all people? Just how strong is he?


    ¡°Relax, noobster,¡± the would-be king continued, bursting into laughter. ¡°I ain¡¯t here to bust yer balls over yer lack of work, I saw what kept yeh occupied. Standoff with a hellhound, eh? Impressive. I think we can forgive yeh fer gettin¡¯ distracted, especially when it was my piece of crap assistant who left you in the lurch.¡± With that, he pointed to the avatar formally known as Tiny, adding an offensive hand gesture for good measure. ¡°An¡¯ as for this sack of shit, the prick had it comin¡¯, trust me. Thought he was too good for construction, spent half his time pickin¡¯ on the other workers.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know all about it. We met once, already¡­¡±


    ¡°Really? Once is once too many, so yeh have my condolences.¡± He returned his attention to the corpse and began to tut, shaking his head. ¡°Real fall from grace, that one. The dumb fuck was a member of Kronan¡¯s top raid party, once, wasted the best opportunity he ever had. Hell, he only got this job as a favor to one of his old gang members, an¡¯ now he¡¯s fuckin¡¯ that up, too. Stupid bastard. I¡¯d give my entire inventory to drop my contractor status an¡¯ join Clan Kronan, yet he threw it all away.¡±


    ¡°So, joining a gang is recommended, then?¡± I asked. Because so far, I only had Samusk¡¯s word for that, and I couldn¡¯t trust him as far as I could throw him. Which was probably a decent distance by now, admittedly.


    ¡°If yeh wanna stand any chance of makin¡¯ it to the surface, then yeah, find yerself a gang. Tryin¡¯ to stay independent is admirable, but most find they hit a wall around level 5. It¡¯s hard to level beyond that if you don¡¯t belong to a raid party or have higher-level buddies to help yeh grind yer skills. Speakin¡¯ of which, gimme a moment to read yer stats, so¡¯s I can figure out the best use for yer skillset.¡±


    ¡°You have high-level perception?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s currently sittin¡¯ at 6.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, an¡¯ it¡¯s perfect fer my current role. My high perception allows me to easily perceive structural weaknesses, an¡¯ a quick glance at a prisoner tells me everythin¡¯ I need to know to best allocate ¡®em. Which in turn helps boost my leadership skill, ¡®cos well-allocated workers seriously boost productivity.


    Well, that was an unexpected but interesting titbit. Reaching 6 in perception bestows the ability to perceive the weaknesses of others. That would be a fantastic skill to have if I encountered the Dungeon Warden again. Knowing his weaknesses could only make him so much easier to kill, and help compensate for the inevitable disparity between our levels when I finally made my move. Yep, there was no question about it: generating and grinding the perception skill was now more important than ever.


    I realized that the self-proclaimed ¡®Emperor of the Psychopaths¡¯ was studying me with said skill like one might study a highly detailed painting. It was awkward, but nowhere near as uncomfortable as my last visit to the chamber, when the locals were looking at me like lunch.


    This was what he saw¡­


    USERNAME: SHADE


    PRIMARY SKILL: SWORDSMAN ¨C LEVEL 2


    XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 78


    SECONDARY SKILL: THIEF ¨C LEVEL 1


    XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 33


    PRIMARY TRAIT: SLAVEOWNER ¨C LEVEL 1


    XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 68


    Rep: -23/30


    HP: 75/100


    Mana: 0/50


    Alliances: Owner of Samusk (Dwarf, slave)


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 4 (Cap 5)


    Agility: 1 (Cap 4)


    Speed: 3 (Cap 4)


    Stamina: 3 (Cap 5)


    Resilience: 4 (Cap 4)


    Accuracy: 1 (Cap 5)


    Defence: 1 (Cap 5)


    Armed combat: 3 (Cap 6)


    Unarmed combat: 1 (Cap 3)


    Carrying capacity: 1 (Cap 2)


    INTANGIBLE STATS -


    Magical attack: 0 (Cap 1)


    Perception: 0 (Cap 4)


    Charisma: 0 (Cap 2)


    Disguise: 0 (Cap 1)


    Luck: 0+1 (Cap 2+1)


    Healing: 0 (Cap 0)


    Mana generation: 1 (Cap 3)


    Leadership: 0+2 (Cap 2+2)


    Homemaking: 0 (Cap 2)


    OUTSTANDING QUESTS ¨C


    Protect the dwarf (ongoing)


    Pleasure the Knight (repeatable)


    ¡°Hmmm. That¡¯s an odd mix of stats for a noob, all right,¡± he eventually declared. ¡°And I¡¯m not even going to ask about that last quest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a-¡±


    ¡°Ssssh. Seriously, don¡¯t wanna know mate. What yeh get up to in yer own cell is yer own damn business. But with stats like yours, I can understand why yer interested in construction.


    With that, we stepped over Tiny¡¯s now-disintegrating remains and made our way to the building site. As I took another glance at his bashed-in face, I was reminded to ask an important question.


    ¡°So, ah¡­ just to be certain, my charisma doesn¡¯t make you want to smash my face in with a brick too, does it?¡± I figured that it was better to find out before, not after the fact.


    ¡°Yeh do have that low charisma smell, admittedly, although I¡¯m much too polite to bring such things up.¡±


    ¡°That ah¡­ didn¡¯t really answer the question.¡±


    ¡°Relax, noobster. So long as you¡¯re a good worker, I can live with yer faults. So, listen up, here¡¯s what we¡¯re gonna do with yeh. See that cell on the end, there?¡±


    ¡°The one with the lone worker?¡± I replied, spotting a half-orc who was hard at toil by himself.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the one. The poor bastard¡¯s in the same boat as you. Zero charisma. Worse off, in fact, ¡®cos he¡¯s a h¡¯orc on top of everythin¡¯ else. I try to keep him as far from the other prisoners as I can. Some of the lads on the crew have a tendency to think with their fists, and I don¡¯t want them making his ugly mug even uglier. But he¡¯s a decent guy. He¡¯ll tell yeh what to do.¡±


    ¡°One last thing before you go¡­¡± I added while pointing to Samusk, who was struggling to drag a sack full of monster meat across the chamber. ¡°Did you have any luck toughening him up?¡±


    ¡°Yep, the little bastard finally got his first resilience point. Some of the things he called me in the process though¡­ let¡¯s just say it was a pleasure helpin¡¯ yeh out.¡±


    Ignoring the dirty looks from a bloody Samusk, I made my way over to the half-orc, introduced myself, and cringed for introducing myself again. I really needed to try to break that habit. It was becoming increasingly obvious that having zero perception was the exception around here, not the rule.


    The worker was quick to introduce himself and friendlier than I could have hoped. He cheerfully told me that his name was Kraitos and explained that he had only arrived two months prior to myself.


    As he spoke, I finally understood what Samusk meant by the zero charisma ¡®effect¡¯. Something inside me was screaming, nay, demanding that I admit to my utter hatred of this man, despite having nothing to base that hatred on. Was this what it was like to be around me, I wondered?


    Holy shit. If it is, I need to level up my charisma stat and fast.


    If my own charisma deficiencies were having the same effect on the half-orc, he was much too polite to let it show. Instead, he hurriedly got to work on showing me the ropes. The task was pretty straightforward: basic bricklaying, albeit with bricks that were each the size of a large microwave. It wasn¡¯t long before I finally got to work.


    The weight of each block was backbreaking, but my strength stat was just about up to the task, even if my attempts to place the blocks were a little crooked at first. The good-natured Kraitos had just laughed and assured me that it wouldn¡¯t be a problem. ¡®These are not luxury hotel rooms for passing adventurers to hang their sword in for the night¡¯, he¡¯d declared. ¡®We¡¯re building purely for function, not aesthetics.¡¯Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    There was no real thought required, thankfully. Just cement, then brick, then cement, then brick, my mind zoning out as I continued the repetitive action along the pre-marked boarders of the soon-to-be cell. In some ways, the chance to go on auto-pilot was exactly what my exhausted brain had desperately needed.


    At first, I was surprised (and yeah, a bit disappointed) that my stats weren¡¯t being affected by the continuous labor (besides a small boost to my max stamina and the 25 HP I lost by dropping a huge slab of granite on my foot). But after an hour or so of repeated activity, I was suddenly hit by a flurry of messages.


    -[ You have acquired one additional base point in strength. Rank has increased to 5. XP required to reach rank 6: N/A, cap reached. Recommendation: Increasing your swordsman level will raise your strength cap. ]-


    -[ Congratulations, you have developed the builder skill. Through hard work and perseverance, you have been allocated your first base point in this useful skill. XP required to reach level 2: 99. ]-


    -[ Special achievement reward: You now have an additional skill, but good builder needs stamina to get him through a hard day¡¯s work. Additional XP bonus to stamina: +30. Congratulations: You have reached your next base point in stamina. Rank has increased to 4. XP required to reach rank 5: 90. ]-


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asked Kraitos, as he watched me stare off into space.


    ¡°I just got my builder skill,¡± I replied, cheerfully.


    ¡°Already? Wow, that¡¯s really something. Generating that skill took me a full day back when I started out. Granted, I wasn¡¯t as strong as you when I arrived, so the bricks I was working with were a lot smaller, and that really affected my productivity. I take it your strength just reached level 5, then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, how did you know that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a prerequisite that has to be met before the builder skill finally kicks in,¡± he replied, confirming to me that knowledge really was power in Atone Online. ¡°Accuracy helps too, it improves the finish of your work. But like I said, there isn¡¯t much call for that around here, they want quantity, not quality. Anyway, well done.¡±


    I felt smug. This really was the ideal place for me to grind my skills while I waited for my meeting with General Nyx. Sure, the disparity between my strength and everything else was growing, but I¡¯d only been working for about an hour and already I¡¯d learned a new skill. More importantly, my strength was now at its cap for my level. And that meant with any luck (something I¡¯d also acquired in my short time here) any further strength XP gained could be placed into perception, albeit with a 50% penalty. Things were finally starting to go my way.


    We continued to toil for what felt like another two hours (it was the first time I realized that I didn¡¯t have an effective way to gauge the passage of time). During that period, I continued to grind my strength like a muscle being worked to fatigue, motivated by my true intention for that precious strength XP, only stopping for a five-minute break every twenty minutes or so to allow my stamina to recover. It too was benefiting, and when I finally gained another strength point, I got the message I was hoping for: ¡®strength XP has been rejected.¡¯ I nervously waited for a follow-up message, and after twenty seconds or so, my prayers were finally answered.


    -[ Would you like to reallocate this XP to another skill? Warning: A 50% penalty will apply. ]-


    Without a second thought, I traded the 100XP value of the strength base-point for 50XP in perception. And then something amazing happened.


    -[ You have acquired your first base point in perception. Rank I. XP required to reach rank 2: 99. ]-


    I immediately turned to my workmate. And hot damn, there it was, hovering above his head in bold, slightly pixelated white letters. It was the half-orc¡¯s name: Kraitos. Underneath it, were two further sections. ¡®HP - ????¡¯ and ¡®Skill level - ????¡¯. A teaser of things to come, I imagined, once I¡¯d built the stat up a little more.


    ¡°What¡¯s happened now?¡± asked Kraitos, as he stared perplexed at the grown man dancing around in front of him like a toddler full of sugar.


    ¡°I finally gained perception,¡± I announced. ¡°I can see your fucking name.¡±


    ¡°You gained perception while grinding building?¡± he replied, looking somewhat bewildered. That¡¯s a new one.¡±


    ¡°I have a special technique,¡± I replied, smugly.


    ¡°Really? Well, you can explain it to me over lunch. I wouldn¡¯t mind sharpening that skill myself.¡±


    Lunch. That word brought me down to earth. Because unlike stamina, one form of fatigue could not be satisfied by rest. My stomach was growling more than ever.


    The answer to those prayers came about ten minutes later, in the form of a small bell being rung by a dwarf. He was bald, but his massive beard was more than willing to compensate. Oddly, he was only the second dwarf I¡¯d seen in the chamber since I¡¯d arrived.


    ¡°Grub¡¯s up, ye bunch o¡¯ reprobates¡± he announced.


    ¡°Finally,¡± I cried, dropping a slab of granite where I stood.


    ¡°About bloody time,¡± agreed the half-orc. ¡°My stomach feels like my throat¡¯s been cut.¡±


    A swarm of bodies descended upon the group of supervisors whose job it was to hand out parcels of food to the weary workers. Keen to acquire our share, we made our way through the growing mass of sweaty prisoners. The dwarf was closest to me, handing out parcels wrapped in dead-looking leaves. I graciously took one, unwrapping it as I walked away. My excitement quickly faded.


    ¡°Is that¡­¡±


    ¡°Raw boss meat,¡± confirmed the half-orc, accepting his own parcel.


    Suddenly I wasn¡¯t as hungry as I thought I was.


    I looked over to the corpse and grimaced.


    ¡°Try to think of it as sushi,¡± a barbarian laughed, before pushing past me to receive his own ration.


    I cringed again, then took a quick look around for my dwarven ¡®slave.¡¯ Finding him sitting on his own next to a fallen statue, I bundled up my rations and made my way over, wordlessly taking a seat in the dirt beside him. It came as no surprise that Samusk had no interest in sitting with his fellow zeros. This was a man who only had time for others if there was something they could ultimately do for him. He grunted as I sat down, focusing only on his grotesque meal.


    Kraitos joined us and made to sit beside me. That was when the dwarf finally spoke.


    ¡°Hey, hey, hey, find yer own spot, asshole. One zero charisma noob is hard enough for me to stomach while I¡¯m sittin¡¯ here eatin¡¯ this crap. Two is more than even I can stand. Do ye want me to puke up my fuckin¡¯ rations?¡±


    ¡°Hey, behave,¡± I snapped, hitting the dwarf of firm smack on the back of the head.


    ¡°Oi, yer supposed to be protectin¡¯ me, not knockin¡¯ the damn hit points outta me. I haven¡¯t that many left now, y¡¯know?¡±


    ¡°Show the man some respect, you little shit. He¡¯s shown me more empathy than anyone else here, yourself included.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay man,¡± said the half-orc, returning to his feet. ¡°I understand, really. To be fair, I¡¯m only just getting used to having a guy with zero charisma around, I can¡¯t imagine what two must be like. We¡¯re a lot harder to tolerate than I¡¯d realized. Sit with your friend, I¡¯ll see you after lunch. I¡¯ll look forward to learning how you leveled up like that.¡±


    ¡°See? He understood,¡± sneered the dwarf, before returning to his rations.


    ¡°It¡¯s still rude.¡±


    ¡°So¡¯s lettin¡¯ yer friends get their heads kicked in.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so we¡¯re friends now, are we? Funny that, now that you¡¯ve lost the ability to order me around.¡± I gave him an accusing look. ¡°You know, for all your talk of helping me, I¡¯m starting to think that maybe you¡¯re just a weight around my neck. I make a friend, you chase him off. You make an enemy, I end up getting my crap kicked in by them and thrown in the damn hole as punishment.¡±


    Samusk didn¡¯t reply, focusing only on his food.


    ¡°Well?¡± I asked.


    ¡°If you wanted a damn answer, maybe ye should have ordered me to reply,¡± he spat, curtly.


    I sighed and unwrapped my own rations. The food, gross as it looked (and smelled), actually tasted fantastic. Shadow stallion sashimi, my new favorite dish¡­ who knew. The young apprentice had been on the money: the most difficult kills really were the tastiest. And to my relief (considering that the big bastard had been lying out in the open all night) it tasted as fresh as the day it had been eating me. I guess mob meat takes an unusually long time to spoil.


    ¡°Hmmm. Good, eh?¡± I declared, waving a piece at Samusk.


    The dwarf nodded. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s decent. Make the most of it, though. One of the other workers was tellin¡¯ me that the damn cooks will try an¡¯ make this go as far as possible. Apparently, they¡¯ll mix it with more of that grey slop, an¡¯ spread the meat so thin ye may as well be eatin¡¯ rat again.¡±


    ¡°Is that so¡­?¡± I replied, spying an opportunity to fulfil my quest after all. ¡°In that case, I wonder if I could swipe a couple of boss steaks to bring back to NoobCrusher. That¡¯s got to be worth a few hours training, surely.¡±


    What I was really thinking was, I wonder if I could order my dwarf to swipe a couple of boss steaks on my behalf, but I wasn¡¯t sure that particular wording would go down well, and I wanted an honest answer.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try it, lad. Yer hardly my favorite prisoner at the moment, but the last thing I need is a bodyguard who¡¯s had both his hands chopped off at the wrists. The Clan Kronan don¡¯t take kindly to thieves, from what I hear. An¡¯ we¡¯re tryin¡¯ to get on their good side, remember?¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    Damn. Much as I was growing to hate Samusk, could I really do that to him? It wasn¡¯t worth considering anyway. As my slave, the fallout was bound to make its way back to me. With that in mind, it wasn¡¯t worth the risk.


    ¡°Thanks for the warning. And the job,¡± I added, figuring that an olive branch couldn¡¯t hurt. I¡¯d already taken my revenge, after all. ¡°This job is a pretty sweet deal. I¡¯ve levelled up my stats, the food¡¯s good, and I think I¡¯ve even got us a meeting with General Nyx.¡±


    And yes, I was trying to be nonchalant about that last part. I wanted the little git to know that I was becoming independent, and that if he was going to ride my coat-tails, he¡¯d better find a way to become useful. The look on his face suggested that the statement had deliver exactly the message I had intended.


    As we ate, the atmosphere between us was as cold as one would expect, so we sat in silence, dining on boss and for the want of any other entertainment, prisoner-watching. Before long, I spotted a weary Kriabal making his way into the chamber to collect his rations. The poor bastard looked knackered. Had I known that no one had thought to bring him something to eat, I¡¯d have done so myself. Or, you know, sent my slave to do it.


    As he attempted to negotiate a portion for his pet, I considered approaching him with the offer of an alliance. The dwarf was no longer in a position to protest, after all, and it would be good to have a bit more first-hand experience to guide us, not to mention another ally with decent perception. Alas, that wouldn¡¯t help the plan to join Clan Kronan: we needed membership, not contractor status. Perhaps it was best not to be lumped in with the put-out warlock just yet. Besides, I no longer needed the warlock¡¯s perception, not now that I had Samusk on such a short leash.


    Hmmm, that reminds me¡­


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking¡­¡±


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s a first,¡± spat the dwarf. ¡°Develop a new skill, did you?¡±


    ¡°Funny. And as a matter of fact, yes, I did. Perception.¡±


    I took a small moment to savor the horrified look on Samusk¡¯s face, as realization began to set in that he may already be on his way to becoming obsolete.


    ¡°Good, eh?¡± I added with smug satisfaction.


    ¡°Well, um, yes, but ah¡­¡±


    I could almost hear the wheels turning in his furry head as he struggled to compensate for this unexpected development.


    ¡°Ye do understand, developin¡¯ the skill is by far the easiest part. The next few levels will be much more difficult to grind. And might I add, completely unnecessary. My own perception is currently sitting at level 5, and it¡¯ll be a long time before ye grind the skill that level, if ever. Still, good thing I¡¯m here so ye don¡¯t need to waste time on that tiresome endeavor, eh?¡±


    The question was tinged with fear, but dammit, the sneaky dwarf who asked it had a point. My deadline to kill the Dungeon Warden could be up before I even got anywhere close to level 6, Samusk wasn¡¯t even that high. And even if I did somehow make it, my perception-raising cheat, while effective, relied heavily on my maintaining a cap on my other stats. That did not go hand in hand with power-levelling my combat abilities.


    A smile formed on the dwarf¡¯s face. My expression probably said it all: I still needed him. But then a thought hit me like a giant badly-named barbarian.


    Of course, the solution is so fucking obvious. Why didn¡¯t I see it before?


    ¡°Tell me, Samusk. Have you met warden, yet?¡±


    ¡°What. Don¡¯t be ridiculous, lad. He¡¯s the dungeon¡¯s most powerful entity. I hardly have him on bloody speed-dial, do I?¡±


    Ok good. He hasn¡¯t had his ¡®new prisoner¡¯ meeting, yet. And that means we might still have time to grind his perception one more level beforehand, and have him figure out the little bastard¡¯s weaknesses for me.


    ¡°I might still need your skills after all¡­¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Bingo, well done,¡± he replied with a slow clap. ¡°I knew ye¡¯d figure that out sooner or later. Good to see yer not just a pretty face. Especially since it¡¯s so badly swollen most of the time.¡±


    The dwarf was starting to piss me off. Again. I was about to order him to punch himself in the face when one of the (many) parties responsible for that often-swollen face reappeared, bellowing threats to anyone who was prepared to listen. Tiny. He was demanding food for his morning¡¯s work and had quickly regained the attention of the foreman¡¯s. Fuck me. Was the colossal warrior an absolute idiot? He had to be level 1, by now, yet he was still picking fights at every possible opportunity. Still, television was a thing of the past, now, so what happened next would make for good entertainment, if nothing else¡­


    Grom made to address Tiny¡¯s concerns via the medium of an aggressively brandished brick, but was distracted by a frantic cry from behind us. Samusk spat out his food and got to his feet, turning to face the commotion.


    ¡°What the hell is all that damned racket?¡± the dwarf asked.


    ¡°Holy shit, not again,¡± I gasped, tossing aside my own food. I knew the sound all too well, as the cries of panic were joined by the unmistakable crackle of mana. Wands were being charged with arcane energy, and they were all firmly pointed at the same tunnel that had spawned the hellhound.


    By now others were noticing the commotion and beginning to rise to their feet. Even the NPC¡¯s were getting into defensive stances, and that was never a good sign. Soon, every eye in the room was staring in the direction of the gateway to the front line.


    ¡°Another hellhound?¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Nothin¡¯ so puny,¡± replied Samusk. Look at the apprentices on either side of the entrance. They¡¯re bloody shittin¡¯ themselves.¡±


    I did so, and immediately understood what he meant. They were hard at work pushing more and more mana into their wands, charging up attacks of much greater magnitude than earlier. One apprentice in particular looked like he was about to have a damn panic attack. Whatever was preparing to exit that tunnel, one thing remained obvious: it was of a lot more concern than a runaway hellhound.


    Suddenly, something did leave the tunnel. Without warning a dwarf ran screaming from the shadows and into the chamber, his avatar battered and bleeding.


    ¡°Take akkkk!!!!¡±


    The poor bastard didn¡¯t even get the chance to finish off his warning, as the nervous apprentice unleashed a fireball, drenching the dwarf in arcane flame. The dwarf screamed, rolling on the ground in a futile attempt to extinguish the DOT attack. A couple of prisoners rushed to help but there was nothing they could do. The magical flame was consuming the player as if he were little more than kindling. He must have been in agony.


    Just as suddenly (and as if that wasn¡¯t enough for the poor burning sod) a bluish grey tendril shot from the darkness, its spiked tips piercing the back of the runaway dwarfs avatar. They hoisted him from the ground for a split second before snapping back like a bungee cord, dragging him back to the crushing darkness of the corridor.


    The lair fell silent, as we all looked upon each other with the same dread expression. Fear.


    Something was coming. Something big¡­


    The kind of something boss lairs are made for...

 Chapter 14.1

    The room fell eerily silent. Everyone contained within was now on their feet, myself included, and most were flabbergasted, afraid, or a healthy portion of both.


    The NPC guards had been the first to shake off the shock of what we¡¯d just witnessed. They rushed forward, forming a line just over halfway up the chamber, doubtlessly afraid to venture further lest they find themselves within the mysterious assassin¡¯s reach. They were promptly joined by a large warrior who immediately pushed himself to the front of the formation. It was Grom, and his demeanor had completely changed from that of the man I met earlier.


    ¡°All combatants,¡± he announced, projecting an authority I wouldn¡¯t have imagined him capable off. ¡°Ready yer weapons. ¡°As contractors fer Clan Kronan, we all have a duty to protect the zeros. An¡¯ as human beings, we have a duty to prevent whatever¡¯s back there from spreadin¡¯ to the main dungeon an¡¯ zeroin¡¯ out our weaker brothers an¡¯ sisters. Mages, hold yer damn wand-fire until we see what¡¯s comin¡¯ out of that tunnel. Zeros, get the hell out of here while yeh have the chance. Now!¡±


    While some of the combatants seemed reluctant to step forward, he certainly didn¡¯t have to give that last order twice. At the foreman¡¯s command, a sea of workers scrambled toward the tunnel we¡¯d arrived through, hoping to escape whatever threat was now on its way. Unsurprisingly, not all of the workers attempting to escape were non-combatants. But to his credit, Tiny remained, despite my knowing for a fact that he no longer possessed a weapon.


    Shit. Speaking of which¡­ telling the basic workers to run for it while we cover their retreat was all very noble, but what about the combatants who don¡¯t have a weapon compatible with their skillset? You know, like me?


    A few more warriors were clearly having similar thoughts, their attention split between the source of the threat and backwards glances toward the roughly-constructed exit. As the swarm of zeroes passed through them, some fighters inevitably broke rank, hoping that their quiet addition to the exodus would go unnoticed.


    ¡°C¡¯mon you pack of sword-jockey¡¯s,¡± bellowed Kriabal, adding his presence to the makeshift army as he addressed those who remained on the sidelines. ¡°Get yer overly-toned asses over here. In case there¡¯s any confusion, no-one¡¯s expecting you pack of losers to take down a boss. If that was the case, you wouldn¡¯t see me for dust. But this is an organized retreat. We just need to hold the line until the zeros have filed into the tunnel. After that, we retreat through the cave ourselves, an¡¯ use it as a bottleneck to take down anythin¡¯ that might try to slip through behind us.¡±


    Well, that was a relief. I looked to where Samusk had been standing, wondering what sage-like wisdom he was going to offer me now. But the little coward was already making his break for freedom, and at a speed I¡¯d not imagined possible from his dwarven avatar. Hurmp! So much for his always being at my side to compensate for my weaknesses, eh? I could order him back, I supposed (him being my slave and all). But if it truly was a boss on the other side of that corridor, then I had to ask myself: was there really any benefit in my knowing how many times more powerful than me the creature was, while it was kicking me around the lair like a human football?


    I sighed and drew my assassins¡¯ dagger. You know, because I¡¯m a fucking idiot who doesn¡¯t know when to back down from a fight. Hell, that much was obvious from the moment I punched one of Siriso¡¯s guards, right? But in truth, there was more to it than that. There was no denying that I needed to grasp every opportunity with both hands, if power-leveling to warden-slaying levels was to be achieved within the time that I¡¯d been allocated. And boss battles provided incredible boosts, I¡¯d learned that first hand. ¡®Shade, monster-slaying Emperor of Noobs¡¯ did have a nice ring to it, after all. Perhaps this was how I was going to reach my impossible goal.


    A boss-battle a day keeps the murderous goblin priest away, eh? Here¡¯s hoping.


    By this stage many of the barbarians, half-orcs and sword-wielders had filled out the ranks of the NPCs: brave souls hoping to do the right thing, rep up, or just make a good impression on their employer. Like the guards they now stood with, their weapons were drawn, and their eyes fixed firmly on the tunnel leading to the front line. Some were consuming potions, their chatter confirming that the temporary boosts to their strength or skills would be their only hope of surviving a fight, regardless of what form it took. I suddenly wished I¡¯d used my chat with Kriabal to ask if he had any such elixirs going spare.


    To my surprise, a few of those who remained were from the rabble known as the brotherhood, no doubt ordered to stand their ground by their battle-hungry imbecile of a leader. They were a few rows back, admittedly, but they were there, nonetheless. Most were independents, like me. I¡¯m sure they all had their own reasons for standing firm, and I wouldn¡¯t profess to know the inner thoughts of anyone who chooses to run around in a loin-cloth all day. But be it naivety, bravery, avarice or fear, they were all standing together, a scattered rag-tag army of noobs. A community, readying itself to confront whatever was lurking in that darkness and threatening its home, if only to buy the weaker prisoners time to escape. I felt my heart swell. And two little words later, it sank.


    ¡°It¡¯s barred,¡± yelled a voice from the back of the room.


    ¡°What?¡± yelled Grom, his tone switching to concern.


    ¡°The tunnel¡¯s sealed by some kinda forcefield,¡± came the cry of another. ¡°We can¡¯t get out.¡±


    ¡°Shit. I was afraid of this,¡± the foreman spat, turning to one of the NPC guards.


    ¡°Only one thing can seal off a boss chamber,¡± agreed the guard, solemnly. The tentacle must have been enough to send the chamber into shut-down.¡±


    A commotion was growing among the troops. Cursing under his breath, Grom rushed to scale a pile of building blocks, elevation from which to address his motley excuse for an army.


    ¡°Alright everyone, listen up. You¡¯ve heard it already, we¡¯re all sealed in¡­¡±


    ¡°So fucking unseal it,¡± came a guttural half-orc¡¯s reply.


    ¡°Yeah, we have to get the hell out of here,¡± came another, one of the swords-women standing among the rabble.


    As noobs, it was evident that they weren¡¯t privy to the workings of a boss lair. Unfortunately for me, I was. Intimately so. Grom didn¡¯t mince his words, explaining that we were trapped here until either the boss was dead, or we were. Until that happened, our only exit was sealed.


    Panic erupted at that announcement. Most of the souls trapped in the chamber hadn¡¯t so much as encountered a level 1 mob, let alone a boss. Many were determined to check the exit for themselves, breaking ranks with little thought of how weak their attempts to escape made them look in front of the others. Like sheep, more and more bodies began to break away, futilely descending upon the tunnel we¡¯d arrived through. And one such deserter stood tall above the others: it was the lanky foreman¡¯s assistant, SkullFucker.


    Yup, that one¡¯s sword is clearly only for decorative purposes.


    Determined to help reverse the trend I ran to Grom¡¯s side, my dagger in one hand and my battered shield in the other. I was joined by a flustered looking Kriabal, a slice of mob meat hanging from his mouth as he jogged into position.


    ¡°Something¡¯s coming out,¡± cried our army¡¯s solitary dwarf, his night-sight piercing the darkness of the corridor¡¯s mouth.


    Seconds later we all saw it, a flurry of activity as a surge of bodies came tumbling into the chamber. They were on the back-foot, bloodied and blindly stumbling as they struggled to put distance between themselves and the corridor. Among them, I recognized three faces from the raid party (the tank I¡¯d shamelessly robbed, a generic-looking barbarian and jackpot¡­ General Nyx). They were accompanied by a barbarian I didn¡¯t recognize and an equally bloodied wizard, his once flamboyant robes now steeped in crimson.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    They were barely on their feet and running for cover when a volley of tentacles erupted from the darkness behind them. Three shot out directly, rigid as a spear, tearing through the ranks of the retreating warriors. The damage was devastating, with one of the barbarians completely impaled. But to make matters worse, the strike had been two-fold. Two further tentacles had veered left and right, banking around the corner of the corridor¡¯s entrance and instantly skewering the mages who lay in wait for the enemy. One fell, clutching a gaping wound in his side, but he was the lucky one. The others had been too slow to comprehend what was happening before they¡¯d been completely impaled.


    Shock and revulsion rippled through our ¡®army¡¯ as we stood there slack-jawed, powerless to assist. And once again, the tentacles withdrew as quickly as they¡¯d arrived, all five snapping back as one. They disappeared into the darkness, taking two apprentices and one screaming barbarian with them.


    Only one member of the arcane ambush party had survived, and he was bleeding heavily from the hip. The name above his head declared him to be ¡®HarryPothead, and I recognized him as the guy who had patched me up earlier. He took a moment to raid his colleague¡¯s pockets, downed what I could only assume to be his friend¡¯s emergency healing potion, and abandoned the spot where his companions had died, limping across the chamber to join the makeshift army that had amassed a good thirty yards from the corridor¡¯s opening. Although within spitting distance of the fallen raid party, he didn¡¯t stop to check on them. He had only one goal: reaching the relative safety of our numbers.


    ¡°The apprentices were hidden from its view,¡± spat Grom. ¡°How the hell did the thing know where to strike?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s intelligent, that much is obvious,¡± replied Kriabal, ¡°As for how it knew, you can blame the trigger-happy apprentice for that. He¡¯s the one who blew our magic users¡¯ position. It knew we had at least one fighter with range attacks lying in wait to ambush it, so the clever bastard attacked both sides, just to be sure.¡±


    ¡°The raid party, can you read their HP?¡± asked the closest guard, confirming that his own perception was probably little better than my own. And that worried me.


    Has the warden sent noob guards to babysit noob prisoners, I wondered? They were probably still quite tough, if they were expected to keep about fifty armed prisoners in line. But boss level? No chance. It occurred to me that perhaps NPCs had to grind their skills too, just like the rest of us. And that it would be a bad allocation of resources on the Dungeon Wardens¡¯ part to have his strongest troops looking after a pack of noob¡¯s, while their mighty trusted employers were so close by. Shit! The guards probably are stronger than we are, but not by much.


    Grom nodded and squinted at the broken mass of bodies lying halfway between us and the abyss. ¡°General Nyx is alive, but barely. The apprentice is stunned, suffered a critical hit, probably hasn¡¯t got long. The other two are both dead.¡±


    ¡°Kraynor¡¯s dead?¡± gasped Kriabal.


    ¡°¡¯Fraid so.¡±


    ¡°Damn, I¡¯m sorry I missed that. And in all seriousness, we could really have used another healer.¡± He turned to our own apprentice, who was busy casting heal on himself. ¡°Oi, Gandalf Jr. Have you got the range to cast heal on the general, there?¡±


    The bloodied apprentice shook his head, holding up a finger to signify his pitiful level.


    ¡°Fuck! Damn that Grandel for refusin¡¯ to come outta his cell after the shadow stallion fight. Fucking baby. And damn Nyx for cutting costs like this. I can¡¯t believe she stuck us wiv a bunch of level 1 and 2 wiz-tards.¡±


    ¡°What about the boss?¡± continued the guard, turning back to Grom. ¡°I¡¯ve heard you have good eyes, foreman. Were you able to glean the beast¡¯s stats from its tentacles?¡±


    Grom nodded. ¡°It was only a quick glance, so I only caught the basics. It¡¯s called a Paracyde, whatever that is.¡±


    ¡°Never heard of it,¡± replied the guard. ¡°And unlike you failed flesh-bags, I have full access to the dungeon¡¯s bestiary files.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but that¡¯s the trouble with unexplored dungeons¡­¡± piped up Kriabal. They¡¯re full of nice new surprises. And it¡¯s up to us humans to catalogue them. Who do you think keeps updating those damn files of yours? It ain¡¯t a Not Particularly Competent, that¡¯s for sure.¡±


    The guard grunted, then asked: ¡°What sort of HP are we dealing with, then?¡±


    ¡°Trust me, yeh don¡¯t wanna know,¡± replied Grom, solemnly. ¡°I¡¯ll send yeh both a private message. I¡¯m not sure it would be wise worry the ¡®troops¡¯ with the finer details just yet.¡±


    That didn¡¯t sound good. I listened, trying not to interrupt the grown-ups with stupid questions like ¡®we¡¯re all going to die now, aren¡¯t we?¡¯


    ¡°Its mass is getting closer to the chamber,¡± called out the dwarf. ¡°Somethin¡¯ big is definitely movin¡¯ in there.¡±


    ¡°Dwarf, you¡¯re with me,¡± ordered the guard. With that he turned on his heel and rejoined his own kind, our early detection system now following closely behind him.


    ¡°Typical,¡± spat Grom. ¡°I knew it was too much to ask that they work with us. Looks like I¡¯m fine as a source of information, but not worthy of discussin¡¯ strategy wiv their mighty AI brains,¡± he lamented. With that he retook his meagre podium, again addressing the ¡®troops.¡¯ ¡°All right, time to ready ourselves fer a shit-storm of epic proportions. Orcs, start smashing up some of those blocks into the biggest rocks yeh can possibly throw. Let¡¯s hope brute force succeeds where magic failed us. I want barbarians to the front of our ranks as tanks, sword-wielders, I need you to form up the next line. Be ready to strike with precision while the barbarians take the brunt of the damage.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we do something to help Nyx and that apprentice?¡± I asked, placing a hand on Kriabal¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like the way this thing just left them in the middle of the room for us, like that,¡± replied the warlock. ¡°You saw that things reach. It could have finished them off easily. You ask me, the raid party are looking an awful lot like bait.¡±


    I looked back behind me, to the back of the chamber where roughly twenty zeros were huddled in fear beside the tunnel we¡¯d entered through. They¡¯d formed a pitiful barrier using sacks of mob meat. A few were wailing, dreading the loss of what little skill they¡¯d accumulated when the penalty kicked in for respawning. I pitied them, but they did not command my attention for long. The corridor¡¯s occupant let out a disturbing screech, pulling complacent eyes such as my own back to the threat at hand. Turning to the corridor, my gaze was met with unnerving glowing eyes that were far from human. Worse, there were a lot more of them than any of us had expected.


    ¡°Crap, the fucker has an advance guard of lower level mobs with it,¡± snapped Kriabal, furiously pumping mana into his staff as he spoke. ¡°What were the raid party doin¡¯ in there, using their fancy swords to scratch their arses?¡±


    The staff flared with arcane energy, its skull-topper beginning to blur as if reality itself was unfolding around it. I immediately decided that I¡¯d picked the right guy to stand next to.


    Creatures finally came shambling from the darkness and into view, and to our shock, they were wearing the raid party. Or perhaps the other way around, I wasn¡¯t quite sure. Either way, it was a bizarre sight. Each barbarian was wearing the maw of a hellhounds neck like a grotesque crown of fangs and eyes. The beast¡¯s bodies were slumped over the warrior¡¯s backs like animal furs that someone had foolishly forgotten to remove from their previous owner. Compared to the hulking beast of a hellhound that I had encountered earlier, these dangling creatures looked emaciated, as if their very essence had somehow been drained from them.


    ¡°Possession,¡± grumbled the warlock. ¡°This shit-show just keeps getting better and better, eh?¡±


    Ah. At least that explained their withered forms, then. In each case, the mob¡¯s very essence was being leached from one (possibly stolen?) body into another. And the horrific act did not come without the physical mutilation of the host. Across the punctured skin of each barbarian spread an infection-like disease, their skin laden with pock-marks and dark twitching veins. Armored bone plates grew from random points in their ravaged-looking anatomy, as if a former hosts programming was being patched into their systems in an ad-hoc quest for power. I gave thanks for the shield that Kriabal had gifted me: it was probably the only thing that prevented the beast I tackled earlier from sinking its teeth into my once-vulnerable arm and making me its next host. Mental note: go shopping for proper bracers.


    One thing was for certain: the walking horror shows made the shadow foals I met yesterday look like my little shadow ponies by comparison. And to make matters worse, there were seven of the gruesome bastards, all slowly advancing on our position.


    This, I now realised, was why the hellhound had been so keen to reach the main dungeon. It was carrying an infection of sorts, and it was determined to spread to a more powerful host. Apparently where that hound had failed, the rest of the pack had succeeded. I tried to read the one I recognized, but where it should have said BulldogBrit, the text above its head simply read ¡®possessed barbarian.¡¯


    ¡°So, this is the appetizer before the main course, eh?¡± announced Tiny, cocky as ever.


    He wasn¡¯t the only one who was growing in confidence. All around me, my fellow warriors were itching for a fight. And who could blame them, the odds (for the moment at least) were definitely looking to be in our favor. You know, from a number¡¯s perspective. The odds were five-to-one in our favor, at least.


    Positive thoughts, Shade. They may be ugly bastards, but they¡¯re ridiculously outnumbered. We have sword-wielders, barbarians, half orcs and even a couple of magic users. We can do this.


    Of course, there was much more to a numbers advantage than the number of troops you possessed in this world. Still, my allies didn¡¯t seem to think so. Humanoid opponents were something they could get their heads around, and a handicap match even more so. Moral was definitely up. Until a ripple of panic brought the chorus of jeers and bravado to an abrupt close.


    Slowly this time, tentacles began to feel their way out of the darkness. There was no question about it. Momma was coming.

 Chapter 14.2

    Yep, I was beginning to wish that I¡¯d chosen the ¡®delete¡¯ option, back when I¡¯d first arrived. It couldn¡¯t possibly have been any more painful than what this ugly lot had in store for me.


    I turned to Grom. I couldn¡¯t imagine that life as a building foreman had prepared him for this. But to give him his due, if he was quietly urinating into his loin-cloth, he didn¡¯t show it. Perhaps his impressive perception was giving him a truer measure of our opponents, and he¡¯d found some hidden weakness.


    ¡°Kriabal, any chance yeh can dominate these things?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Nope,¡± came the warlock¡¯s blunt reply. ¡°Best I can tell, the mobs are like parasites. They fuse with their hosts on a level I couldn¡¯t hope to compete with. It isn¡¯t a skill for them, it¡¯s their way of life.¡±


    ¡°Then there¡¯s nothin¡¯ for it,¡± he replied with a sigh. ¡°We¡¯re gonna haveta kill the poor bastards they¡¯ve hijacked.¡± He turned to face us, his face more troubled than I¡¯d like. ¡°Aim fer the big fat vein runnin¡¯ down the side of their heads. That¡¯s how they link to the host¡¯s nervous system.¡±


    Yep, that confirmed it. The ability to ¡®read¡¯ weaknesses was definitely worth having.


    ¡°You mean they¡¯re still alive?¡± cried a youthful barbarian whose face I didn¡¯t recognize. His long hair was tied in a bob, and his sword was as basic as they came, lacking embellishment of any kind.


    ¡°Fraid so. They have two sets of stats, poor bastards. Never seen anythin¡¯ like it.¡±


    ¡°How dare you wear DungeonDestroyer like that,¡± bellowed another fresh-faced barbarian, adding: ¡°He¡¯s my bro. Gonna kill you, bastard.¡±


    Without further warning, the two warriors¡¯ broke ranks and rushed the enemy, their noob-level weapons swinging wildly overhead as they charged to deliver a death that I could only imagine would be their own.


    ¡°No,¡± cried Grom, ¡°hold yer damn position.¡±


    The order fell on deaf ears, or perhaps it was simply drowned out by their high-pitched battle cries. We watched with morbid curiosity as they closed in on the warrior who (I could only assume) had once been known as ¡®DungeonDestroyer.¡¯ And just as suddenly as the pair had darted from our own formation, two thick tentacles lashed out from the darkness, exploding through their unprotected flesh and stopping them both dead in their tracks. The warrior with the hair-bob hung before us, impaled, whimpering and coughing crimson with his haggard final breaths. The other fell to the ground, his head completely obliterated by the impact of the strike. A second later, he was impaled on the tentacles bone-laden tip, like a cocktail sausage on a stick. Just as suddenly as they¡¯d been struck down, both were pulled into the darkness.


    ¡°Do not step into range of that bastards¡¯ tentacles,¡± demanded Grom, addressing us all. ¡°That¡¯s an order. Let them come to us.¡±


    You don¡¯t have to tell me twice. Hrrmp. So much for the value of ¡®leadership¡¯, eh? Now if they¡¯d been your slaves, on the other hand, that wouldn¡¯t have- NO! Don¡¯t even let yourself go there¡­


    As the enemy slowly advanced, I allowed my attention to fall upon the crumpled heap of corpses that still lay in the center of the room: the broken remains of the raid party. Definitely a trap, then. You clever bastard. Smarter than those two noob barbarians, that¡¯s for sure. And Poor Nyx. She was bleeding heavily and looking dazed, but she was alive. As general of a raid party she was probably the only player in the chamber with the experience to lead us to victory, and we couldn¡¯t even get to her. I wanted to play the hero and rescue her. Hell, it couldn¡¯t hurt my chances with Kronan, either. But I¡¯d seen the speed of those tentacles, and I knew better than to go racing into the middle of the room alone. Shutting down that train of thought I held my ground, and waited for the lumbering pack of franken-barbarians to reach us.


    Grom better know what the fuck he¡¯s doing.


    A ping distracted me. A translucent panel had opened up before my avatar, similar to the one that appears when I look into my inventory, or when challenged to a dual. Well, speak of the digital devil. It was Grom, and he¡¯d sent me a request. Without hesitation, I opened it.


    OFFER ¨C Alliance request from Grom.


    Grom has requested that you join a temporary war-party. As the combatant with the strongest leadership of all present, Grom is offering to lead us to victory.


    Goal: Survival.


    Type of alliance: Temporary.


    Reward: Survival. Possible favor with Clan Kronan if successful in protecting their investment.


    Click <u>here</u> for Grom¡¯s full profile.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Profile? What the fuck? Is this a VRMMORPG, or a damn dating app?


    Curious, I clicked it. What followed next read pretty much like a CV. He had included all his stats, accomplishments and even his hobbies, all to aid even the most perceptually challenged player (like me) that he was a lot worthier to lead than the rest of us.


    USERNAME: GROM


    PRIMARY SKILL: BARBARIAN TANK ¨C LEVEL 3


    PERCENTAGE REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 72%


    Rep: -10/25


    HP: 290/290


    Mana: 0/120


    Alliances: Clan Kronan (Contractor)


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 6 (Cap 8)


    Agility: 1 (Cap 5)


    Speed: 2 (Cap 5)


    Stamina: 6 (Cap 8)


    Resilience: 6 (Cap 8)


    Accuracy: 4 (Cap 7)


    Defence: 1 (Cap 5)


    Armed combat: 3 (Cap 8)


    Unarmed combat: 2 (Cap 6)


    Carrying capacity: 4 (Cap 4)


    Building: 8 (Cap 8)


    INTANGIBLE STATS -


    Magical attack: 1 (Cap 3)


    Perception: 6 (Cap 6)


    Charisma: 3 (Cap 3)


    Disguise: 0 (Cap 1)


    Luck: 2 (Cap 2)


    Healing: 0 (Cap 0)


    Mana generation: 2 (Cap 8)


    Leadership: 4 (Cap 5)


    Homemaking: 1 (Cap 2)


    OUTSTANDING QUESTS ¨C Get rid of that awkward rash (ongoing)


    The next screen had obviously been pre-prepared, should the opportunity for self-promotion ever arise. I skipped past the oddly in-depth list of his accomplishments in the building trade, his hobbies (crochet of all things) and ridiculous boasts of his sexual prowess IRL, until I got to the important bit.


    Accept Y/N?


    Without a second thought, I accepted the offer.


    -[ You have joined the temporary war-party ¡®Grom¡¯s Guerrillas¡¯. This party¡¯s leader possesses superior stats to your own, and you shall benefit from this for the duration of your party membership, or until Grom¡¯s own levels drop. Building +3. Perception +2. Rep +2. Strength +1. Resilience +1. Charisma +1. Luck +1. ]-


    Well, that was unexpected. Apparently, it wasn¡¯t only reputation that trickled down from the group¡¯s leader. A few of my other stats had been bolstered too, just by joining his ¡®party¡¯. It was a shame that the boost was only temporary, but oh well. At least I hadn¡¯t developed the barbarian¡¯s ¡®awkward rash.¡¯ That was one quest I wouldn¡¯t be asking to assist with, regardless of the payoff. But with a quick glance to my updated stats, now, more than ever, I understood why Samusk was so keen to get me into a gang with a powerful leader. The boost permitted me to push beyond my current level cap, and it was boosting a few of my weaker stats quite nicely, too.


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 5+1 (Cap 5+1)


    Agility: 1 (Cap 4)


    Speed: 3 (Cap 4)


    Stamina: 3 (Cap 5)


    Resilience: 4+1 (Cap 4+1)


    Accuracy: 1 (Cap 5)


    Defence: 1 (Cap 5)


    Armed combat: 3 (Cap 6)


    Unarmed combat: 1 (Cap 3)


    Carrying capacity: 1 (Cap 2)


    Building: 1+3 (Cap 3+3)


    INTANGIBLE STATS -


    Magical attack: 0 (Cap 1)


    Perception: 1+2 (Cap 4+2)


    Charisma: 0+1 (Cap 2+1)


    Disguise: 0 (Cap 1)


    Luck: 1+1 (Cap 2+1)


    Healing: 0 (Cap 0)


    Mana generation: 1 (Cap 3)


    Leadership: 0+2 (Cap 2+2)


    Homemaking: 0 (Cap 2)


    Hmmm. Shame the big guy is so lacking in agility, I could really have used a lift in that area, too. But hot damn, two bonus points in perception? Temporary, admittedly, but the knowledge of this fast-track to power offered exciting new possibilities¡­ for example, if it were Samusk who received such a boost, he could easily spot the wardens weaknesses for me.


    There was another unexpected surprise to be gained from my joining the makeshift war-party. A new tab had appeared in my status menu, containing the stats of every other prisoner who¡¯d joined thus far. I could read the full stat sheet of just over half the combatants in the room, just by selecting them from the menu. But why so few? I wondered. A quick scan told me that our party numbered nineteen fighters in total. The NPC¡¯s had (rather predictably) remained in their own unit, so that accounted for another ten. But by my tally that still left eleven other players who were not accounted for.


    I closed the window and attempted to figure it out the old-fashioned way, smiling as I realized that I could now see everyone¡¯s HP hanging above their head, along with their primary skill level. It wasn¡¯t as in-depth as the ¡®war-party¡¯ tab, but it was a hell of a lot handier to access, and not simply limited to my ¡®allies¡¯.


    I quickly spotted the problem. Five of the remaining combatants had formed their own unit around a leader of their own choosing: Tiny. It made sense, I supposed. The rabble¡¯s allegiance was evidently now to him, and he had no love for the foreman who now led us. I was surprised to see that Grom¡¯s assistant (SkullFucker) had joined them, and not his boss. Equally surprisingly, that still left four others who had chosen to remain solo. So much for a united front, eh?


    There was no point focusing on the others. I finally had allies, albeit temporary ones. And thanks to the slow advance of the bastardized barbarians (who were still trying to draw us into the bosses reach out of sheer frustration with their snail-like advance) I still had a little time to prepare myself. So, I quickly scanned the details of those I could, giving me an overview of what we had to work with. I stuck to the ¡®basic¡¯ view, grouping the warriors by race. Besides Grom, Kriabal and myself, there were six barbarians, four swordsmen, five half-orcs and one apprentice. And as I expected, every single one of them was noob-level. Fuck!


    I wanted to read their individual stats, but alas, study-time was over. The possessed players were now within spitting-distance of our formation. Up close they looked even more frightening, their raid-party class weaponry glinting with the now unmistakable glint of mana. Our front line began to tense, readying itself for a clash that was all but inevitable.

 Chapter 14.3

    Kriabal used the time available to warn us that our opponents may share the hellhounds magical resistance, rendering his spells less effective than usual. To this Grom suggested that a spear through the head might draw their attention. But his attempts to sweet-talk the NPC guards into doing just that were immediately shut down.


    ¡°Don¡¯t presume to order us around, foreman,¡± spat the lead guard. ¡°We¡¯ll keep an eye on the boss. Deal with the half-breed human abominations yourself.¡±


    ¡°Bastard puppet,¡± grumbled Grom as the guards withdrew from our formation.


    Glancing at a member of the mutated raid party I took a second to study his alleged weak point, the thick vein running down the side of his head and neck. The artery squirmed underneath the warrior¡¯s abnormally pale skin with a stomach-churning ferocity, and that was when it occurred to me that it wasn¡¯t really a vein, at all. It was the deeply burrowing tongue of the withered hellhound passenger, pumping the creatures poisonous code across from one infected avatar to another, in much the same way that a player might transfer their consciousness from their flesh to their chosen digital body. Holy crap! Was this monstrosity overwriting BulldogBrit? Could the mobs in Atone Online even do that? I clasped my ¡®lucky¡¯ necklace and resolved to sever the connection between man and beast, if only to help the poor bastard escape this enforced ¡®union.¡¯


    The possessed fighters shambled to a halt mere meters from our front line, the closest positioned just beyond our leader¡¯s reach.


    ¡°Cowaarrdsssssss,¡± hissed the lead monstrosity, leveling his sword accusingly at our nervous formation.


    Name-calling? Seriously? So, even muscle-bound mutants aren¡¯t afraid to resort to the favored tactic of schoolyard bullies everywhere, then? Good to know¡­


    Despite his ominous presence, he was the shortest barbarian I¡¯d encountered thus far, having more in common with a bodybuilding dwarf than the towering warriors who flanked him. The corrupted piece of code carried a weighty skull-embellished sword and his chiseled face was clean-shaven, further evidence that the man wearing this avatar was keen not to be mistaken for a member of the furry-faced axe-waving community, despite a stature that was well-suited to such alternative pursuits. One thing he couldn¡¯t be mistaken for, however, was normal. His skin was a sickly white, his eyes were glazed and unfocused, and the veins that ran across his pumped-up pecs were raised and black as if it were ink, not blood, that ran in his muscular avatar¡¯s veins. As with the others, a withered hellhound hung from his head like a morbid veil, and shards that resembled the beast¡¯s bone armor protruded from his muscular right arm, their haphazard growth caring little for the condition of the flesh they had shredded in their bid for freedom. The creepy little bastard was within spitting distance of me... not that I would dare be so foolish as to attempt it. I clutched my dagger a little tighter, cursing the close proximity the weapon would demand. For all I knew, the hellhounds were a virus, and if that was the case, close-quarter combat was the last thing I needed.


    ¡°What the fuck are you supposed to be, then?¡± yelled an equally perplexed member of our war-party.


    ¡°We are hybrid,¡± replied the monstrosity with a smirk, it¡¯s dead gaze fixed on our leader. ¡°We gather precious code, and we have claimed your friends as salvage¡­¡± He hesitated for a moment, his smile broadening until it dominated his incredibly punchable face, then continued: ¡°¡­just as we shall claim all of you.¡±


    ¡°The hell you will,¡± I spat, to murmurs of agreement from my allies.


    The mutant muscle-dwarf simply glared at me, as if checking out this year¡¯s must-have new avatar.


    ¡°Yes¡­ you will do nicely.¡±


    If the self-professed ¡®hybrid¡¯ was trying to intimidate me, well¡­ it was pretty damn effective. The thought of becoming the latest addition to the creature¡¯s growing range of warrior-wear was not an enticing one. One thing was clear, though: it was being careful to stay within the tentacled creature¡¯s reach. Yep, the sneaky mob-player combo was still trying to lure us into a trap.


    ¡°Cowwwaaaarrrrddddddssssssss,¡± the bastard thing cried again, beating its borrowed chest with its fist. The other mobs nodded in silent agreement.


    ¡°Says the ugly fuck who won¡¯t step forward and fight us,¡± bellowed Tiny, in what was probably the extent of his capacity for mind games.


    More taunts were hurled between both sides, but it was little more than bravado and name-calling. Kriabal didn¡¯t partake and continued to silently charge his staff with mana.


    ¡°H¡¯orcs!¡± cried Grom, raising an arm and then directing it to the enemy. Start peltin¡¯ those ugly fuckers wiv rocks, see if yeh can draw one of ¡®em away. Everyone else stand ready, but only attack if I give the order.¡±


    Much more compliant than the NPCs, the half-orcs dutifully began hefting projectiles at our enemy, their powerful bodies hurling the primitive missiles with considerable force. I was relieved to see the familiar face of Kraitos among the half-orc contingent, confirming that he wasn¡¯t just a helpless zero. Yet.


    At first, the hybrids disregarded the rock-throwing savages, as if the primitive attack was beneath their notice. But their indifference could not be sustained. All it took was one well-aimed rock to the spokesman¡¯s head to awaken the mob within. Falling to one knee, the dwarf-sized barbarian shook off the blow then fixed his glare on the culprit (a tattooed half-orc by the name of BruiserBoy). With a face drenched in freshly bled crimson, the hybrid warrior let loose an inhuman screech so distorted that it sounded more like a glitch than the cry of man or beast. The mob¡¯s pre-programmed fight instincts had finally surfaced. And with that, the monstrosity launched itself in the half-orc¡¯s direction with the speed of a player, and not that of the shambling mob it had once feigned to be.


    ¡°H¡¯orc¡¯s! Fucking retreat,¡± bellowed Grom. ¡°Draw the bastard as far from the pack as possible. I want that short-arse completely isolated.¡±


    Driven by fear as much as orders, the half-orcs did their best to flee. But their cumbersome avatars had been built for power, not speed, and the gap was quickly closed. The furious hybrid threw itself into the mass of grey bodies, targeting the soul foolish enough to draw its ire. BruiserBoy instantly recoiled, his face now stricken with panic. He quickly called up his inventory and selected a wooden club, raising it to block the swing of the hybrid¡¯s sword, but did so with barely a fraction of the speed possessed by his mutated, higher level opponent. With a flash of mana-charged weaponry, the hybrid buried his heavy blade deep into the half-orc¡¯s shoulder. A blood-curdling cry rang out as the sword sliced first through thick grey skin, then flesh, finally cracking bone with disturbing brutality. The creature cackled in satisfaction as BruiserBoy fell away clutching his almost severed limb.


    He sliced away three-quarters of the poor bastard¡¯s HP, just like that. We¡¯re fucking doomed.


    ¡°Hold steady, everyone,¡± demanded Grom, his orders betraying my instinct to rush to the stricken player¡¯s aid.


    The hybrid howled in pain as the powerful fists and clubs of the remaining four half-orcs began to pummel it from every conceivable direction. Sensing his opportunity to retreat, the soul who¡¯d landed the ¡®lucky¡¯ throw attempted to crawl to safety. Strength in numbers looked to be winning the day, but their attacker had numbers of his own to call upon. The enraged hybrid let out yet another screech, this one a call for assistance. And with that, the remaining six monstrosities began to advance again, a nightmarish charge that the inhuman-class players were ill-equipped to meet. The four-on-one battle was about to become a seven-on-four massacre.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Dammit!¡± cried Grom, ¡°You dumb fucks were only supposed to draw in one of ¡®em.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t stand by and watch from the sidelines any longer, not while Kraitos was in danger.


    ¡°Fuck this,¡± I cried, breaking ranks and rushing to add my strength to their own. But as suddenly as I¡¯d propelled myself forward I was jolted back by a superior force, as a powerful grip took me by the arm and roughly threw me to the ground. It was my leader. And he looked pissed.


    ¡°Everyone hold yer positions,¡± he spat, shooting me a glare that was clearly meant as an unspoken ¡®or else.¡¯ ¡°That¡¯s an order. Kriabal will hit the other hybrid¡¯s with ranged attacks to draw the ugly bastards to us.¡±


    ¡°I will?¡± balked the warlock with an unconcealed ¡®I didn¡¯t sign up for this elf-shit¡¯ glare.


    ¡°You will.¡±


    The remaining hybrids were almost on our allies. Kriabal sighed, spun his staff (purely for effect, I¡¯d imagine) and unleashed his stored mana into the advancing horde, intercepting the enemy¡¯s advance with a blast of raw concussive force. The attack had been building for a while, and despite their magical resistance, most were knocked from their feet. But one solitary fighter made it past the attempted intercept, slicing into the exposed back of Kraitos as the builder struggled to hold back BruiserBoy¡¯s would-be executioner.


    ¡°Kriabal, get that other fuckers¡¯ attention,¡± barked Grom, ¡°the h¡¯orc¡¯s can¡¯t possibly deal wiv two of ¡®em at once.¡±


    Kriabal swore under his breath and began taking rapid-fire shots at the mob in question.


    ¡°If you won¡¯t let me join the brawl, at least let me get the injured to safety,¡± I demanded. ¡°I have the strength and speed to do it.¡±


    Grom considered this, then nodded. But to everyone¡¯s surprise, not least my own, he demanded that I drag BruiserBoy deeper into the chamber, and then leave him there.


    ¡°Y-you¡¯re using him as bait?¡± I balked. ¡°That¡¯s inhuman.¡±


    Grom sneered down at me. ¡°So¡¯s he.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s only his fucking avatar you racist prick,¡± I spat back, thrusting an accusing finger into his chest. ¡°He¡¯s a level 1 combatant, his death will mean five years as a lowly zero.¡±


    Grom sighed. ¡°The enemy¡¯s half player, half mob. And yeh know how mobs operate, yeah?¡±


    I shrugged. I knew they seemed to have a thing for killing us, but I wasn¡¯t sure what he was getting at.


    ¡°It¡¯ll fixate on its attacker to the exclusion of all else until it¡¯s finally ended him, or until somethin¡¯ hits it harder. That pumped-up dwarf is determined to finish what it started, so we may as well use him to draw the bastard away before he bleeds to fuckin¡¯ death. Now go!¡±


    Kriabal had finally succeeded in drawing his stray target¡¯s ire, but already the others were getting back to their feet. Using the distraction, I pushed my fleet-footed avatar into the fray, circling around the combatants and dragging the badly injured BruiserBoy away from the four-on-one brawl. I¡¯ll never forget the look in his eyes when I took him in my arms and lifted him to safety. Nor will I forget the sheer panic on his face when I apologetically left him out in the open to fulfil his new role as mob-bait. Having to ignore the half-orc¡¯s pained cries for help sickened me to the core, but I rejoined the formation and shut out his wailing, trusting that Grom knew what the hell he was doing.


    ¡°H¡¯orcs, the lure¡¯s in place, step back and let that bastard isolate itself by goin¡¯ after BruiserBoy. Only when it reaches him, swarm it and kick its fuckin¡¯ head in.¡±


    When it reaches him? You¡¯ve just murdered him, you bastard! And you made me your damn accessory.


    I gritted my teeth as an inevitable message ran through my head¡­


    -[ User: BruiserBoy has died. Half-orcs remaining in your war-party: 4 ]-


    The half-orc fell to the charging hybrid¡¯s sword, his head neatly cleaved to match his sundered shoulder. As four battered half-orcs descended on the distracted creature, I silently prayed that Kraitos could handle himself, because there were now six enraged mobs advancing on us. Grom had not only isolated the lone hybrid... the bastard had also isolated our allies. The impending threat was of particular concern to the fighter who had enraged them: Kriabal.


    ¡°Oi, fearless leader. In case you haven¡¯t noticed, I¡¯ve got six ugly fucks closin¡¯ in on me,¡± yelled the warlock. The concern in his voice was justified: he was doing his damnedest to hold back six advancing mobs with blasts of pure force. The scene reminded me of a zombie movie, one in which the lone fighter desperately struggles to fend off a horde of the undead with his shotgun, pushing them back with the force of the weapon, yet never actually flooring them. Each attack was slowing their advance, but not by much.


    ¡°Any chance of a fucking plan?¡±


    ¡°Quiet, I¡¯m thinkin¡¯¡± replied the foreman-turned-general, before addressing the other general present. ¡°Tiny, you claim to lead that rabble, yeah?¡±


    He pointed his sword to the gathering on my left. They were as diverse as one might expect of such a group: the aforementioned barbarian ¡®SkullFucker¡¯, two swordswomen, a disheveled looking gun mage with a hip-flask pressed to his lips (mental note, ask the wannabe cowboy where he got his liquor from) and even an elderly witch. All had chosen Tiny over the inexperienced Grom. I was beginning to see why.


    ¡°Tell ¡®em to isolate the thing that wuz DungeonDestroyer-¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t take orders from tradesmen,¡± replied the tank with a petty snap.


    ¡°Mislaid yer spine?¡± shouted Kriabal over his shoulder. ¡°Damn shame, that. I¡¯ve heard it happens to players who drop too many levels. Tell me, have you thought of checkin¡¯ in the same place as the puppets lost theirs?¡±


    The tank scowled. ¡°As I was sayin¡¯, I don¡¯t take orders¡­ but I do wanna kill somethin¡¯. Leave me BulldogBrit. I fancy me them bone axes of his.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Work away,¡± Grom replied, gesturing to the bone-wielding powerhouse. ¡°But make sure yeh isolate him from the others. Divide and con-¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, whatever.¡±


    An order was given, and the rabble¡¯s combatants quickly followed. They were oddly regimented, but that was probably because they feared Tiny more than their actual opponent. There was a moments discussion, and with another coarsely bellowed order, they began to flank the advancing enemy.


    Tiny¡¯s strategy wasn¡¯t a bad one, to be fair to him. The witch and the gun mage were up first, drawing their chosen target away from the pack with mana bullets and weakly cast spells. Once led away from the other mobs, the two swordswomen rushed to place themselves between the mob and the remaining hybrid¡¯s, cutting off any chance of its retreat. Only then was Bulldog tackled to the ground by the rabble¡¯s tank of a leader, drawing the hybrid¡¯s full fury onto the one warrior among them who was actually capable of taking it. With that, they swarmed the barbarian-mob hybrid like a pack of frenzied piranha. What they lacked in strategy they more than made up for in enthusiasm, their cries joining the grunts of the half-orcs as they brawled with their opponent in the distance, and the crack of Kriabal¡¯s staff as he unleashed blast after blast into the remaining five hybrid¡¯s, determined to keep their focus on the bulk of our formation.


    I cursed Grom under my breath, lamenting the fact that I still hadn¡¯t been allocated a damn opponent. I was as scared as everyone else, sure, but my system was fired up with digital adrenaline and my bloodlust was begging for release. I¡¯ve never been the type to stand back and let others fight my battles for me. Knowing that Tiny was doing just that was killing me. But knowing that Kraitos desperately needed my help was infuriating me even more so. I didn¡¯t abandon friends, even newly made ones. (And yeah, I was feeling guilty about BruiserBoy.)


    I was about to tell Grom where to shove his damn war-party when we finally received our instructions. The foreman split us into two groups of four and one of three. The apprentice was given strict instructions not to engage the enemy, merely healing whoever needed it from whatever meager distance his noobish powers would allow. My newly acquired luck must have been defective because lo and behold, I was placed in the smallest team of the three.


    Wonderful.


    ¡°I¡¯m sending yeh all confirmation of yer targets,¡± declared Grom. ¡°As the strongest here, Kriabal an¡¯ I will take a hybrid each. Everyone try to watch each other¡¯s backs. Independents, wherever the hell yer hidin¡¯, feel free to pitch in. Kriabal¡­?¡±


    The warlock turned to meet the gaze of his temporary leader. He looked just about ready to collapse.


    ¡°¡­fall back and let the bastards come at us. On my mark, everyone charge yer opponent. The warlock¡¯s been drawin¡¯ their ire fer a good few minutes now, an¡¯ we can¡¯t afford to have them swarm the poor fuck the moment he drops his guard. Oh, an¡¯ one last thing¡­ watch out for DungeonDestroyer. I dunno what those damn hounds have pumped into him, but he¡¯s a fuckin¡¯ powerhouse compared to the others.¡±


    The next instruction I received was a private message containing my allocated opponents¡¯ stats. DungeonDestroyer. Because of course it was.

 Chapter 14.4

    A quick glance at the stats provided by Grom confirmed that I was easily outclassed by the level 3 hybrid, despite the backup of a level 2 swordsman (with the surprisingly clever username ¡®Al_Catraz¡¯) and a level 1 barbarian (named BrawnTheBold). Three puny noobs versus what was apparently the strongest mob of the bunch. Did our ¡®general¡¯ seriously think we had a shot at taking this imposing bastard down?


    What the fuck are you playing at, Grom? Is this because I questioned you in front of the others?


    ¡°We¡¯re being sacrificed to the strongest bastard to buy everyone else time, aren¡¯t we?¡± declared my fellow swords-noob, echoing my own thoughts on the matter.


    Oh well, there was no point crying over our soon-to-be-spilt blood. If we didn¡¯t intercept DungeonDestroyer, Kriabal would be left with two opponents, not one. The hybrid slowed his advance as we moved to block his path. He had the same clammy white skin as the others, albeit a lot more of it, having noticeably more muscle to wear it across. His right arm was littered with oozing wounds, each one punctuated by a shard of highly-sharpened bone. His left arm looked more conventional, except it brandished an axe the size of my entire fucking chest. Oh, and the bar hovering above his head informed me that he had 265HP remaining, well over double my own reserve.


    Hmmm. Perhaps life was better when I was oblivious to stuff like that, I considered.


    Not that I needed his stats to be intimidated by his presence. The warrior was easily a foot taller than me, and the creature draped across his huge muscular back was practically skeletal by this stage, its essence almost entirely transferred into its new host leaving nothing but an oddly morbid head veil.


    Groups of warriors were breaking off around us to engage their own targets, the braver warriors striking fast in order to direct the creature¡¯s focus away from Kriabal. DungeonDestroyer understood we meant him harm, but he was staring right through us, his sights locked firmly on the warlock.


    I knew nothing about my fellow noobs, besides the small amount of information hanging above their heads. This made strategizing difficult. (And yeah, that was hardly my forte to begin with.) There was no time to bring up the party menu and check my team-mates stats individually, for a start. But if the max HP hanging above their heads was to be any indication, I was the strongest fighter among us, and that probably made me the prime candidate for the role of tank.


    Oh, joy!


    If only Brawn had cared to perform that same simple check.


    ¡°What is this fucking game, turn-based?¡± he roared. ¡°Come at me you diseased fuck!¡± With that my hot-headed new ally broke from our tiny sub-unit charging DungeonDestroyer with his more conventionally-sized cleaver held aloft. I watched in horror as his head was neatly cleaved from his neck with one stroke of the behemoth¡¯s bloodthirsty axe.


    -[ User: BrawnTheBold has died. Barbarian¡¯s remaining in your war-party: 5. Barbarians remaining in your sub-party: 0. ]-


    Shit! And then there were two. That just left me and a fellow petrified swords-noob to take down the mighty ¡®DungeonDestroyer¡¯. Oh well, at least our little sub-unit finally had his attention. We looked to each other, our faces each a perfect mirror of the other warrior¡¯s fear. Then ¡®Al¡¯ glanced above my head, and a look of relief spread across his face. Yup, my role as the party¡¯s tank had just become official.


    I was momentarily distracted by another status message, this time alerting me to further death amongst our larger ranks. Only a few meters behind us a bearded swords-noob was embarking on an unintentional new career as a novelty sword-decoration, all thanks to his sub-unit¡¯s overly enthusiastic opponent. I grimaced and mentally switched off all messages that didn¡¯t relate to members of my own sub-unit (yes, all two of us) because the last thing I needed were distractions of the ¡®you¡¯re slightly more fucked than you were a moment ago¡¯ variety.


    DungeonDestroyer began to advance again (to get to us, or the warlock fighting behind us, I couldn¡¯t be sure). Now saddled with the unfamiliar role of leader, I ordered the swords-noob to circle around our opponent while I got his full and undivided attention. Then I raised my shield and charged the ugly bastard.


    He charged me in kind, his glitching wail drowning out my own pitiful war cry. The gap between us was quickly closed, his huge axe sailing overhead as I barely ducked underneath the swing in time. His reach fully extended, I made to capitalize on the opening, thrusting my blade across his twisted abdomen for 25HP of damage. The creature howled in pain but the satisfaction I¡¯d gained was frustratingly short-lived. I looked up just in time to see the brute¡¯s free hand close into a bone-laced fist. As his body twisted back and the mutated arm hurled toward me at speed. I brought up my shield, hoping to block the attack and counter with another of my own. But the massive inhuman fist struck my shield hard, causing the low-grade item to explode in a cloud of dust and splinters, the last of its durability shed in an instant. Ill-prepared for the magnitude of the partially-blocked strike, my HP dropped by a quarter as he powered through my defenses, and I was propelled unceremoniously backward and onto my ass.


    With my attempts to draw the hybrid¡¯s attention cut painfully (and embarrassingly) short, my fellow swords-noob was left wide open, and his sneak-attack was easily pre-empted. Al¡¯s weapon was effortlessly knocked from his hand by one swipe of the hybrid¡¯s own blade, and his avatar hastily followed it to the floor, leveled by a devastating backhand that bust his mouth open and sent him reeling.


    This wasn¡¯t good. One axe blow and the felled swordsman would be out of the fight. I couldn¡¯t afford to let that happen, not least because my odds of surviving a one-on-one fight were virtually nonexistent. I scrambled to my feet in a desperate attempt to provide backup but was relieved to discover that it had already arrived.


    Kraitos.


    The remaining half-orcs had succeeded in ending their diminutive foe and begun to swarm ours. My builder buddy was first on the scene, and he was using his not-inconsiderable strength to seize our opponent in a half-nelson, rendering the hybrid¡¯s powerful arms useless. Another two of the powerful warriors dove for the creature¡¯s legs, lifting them to weaken his foothold and in doing so, remove his base from which to yank himself free of Kraitos grasp. The fourth half-orc was a bloody mess and clinging to his last 10HP, yet he too bravely entered the fray, dragging a dazed Al_Catraz to safety. Propping the swords-noob against an upturned statue, the bloodied half-orc hurriedly departed to seek the apprentices healing gifts.


    ¡°You beautiful pack of bastards,¡± I declared, rushing in to fight alongside the gang of bestial brawlers who were, truth be told, anything but. ¡°I could kiss the lot of you, tusks be damned.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me regret this, noobster, ya ain¡¯t my type,¡± replied the appropriately-named BigUgly as he struggled to drag our foe off-balance. ¡°An¡¯ thank yer mate, here,¡± he continued, looking to Kraitos. ¡°I wanted to go fer an easy target like Grom¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Grom gave himself a weak opponent?¡± I gasped.


    ¡°The weakest one o¡¯ th¡¯ bunch,¡± piped up the third half-orc, as he too struggled with the uncooperative hybrid. ¡°It ain¡¯t a patch on this horror show.¡±


    ¡°That untrustworthy fuck!¡± I spat.


    Oh well, at least I had a worthy outlet for my anger. I began to mercilessly hack and slash into the flesh of the struggling creature. My weapon was made for targeting an opponent¡¯s weak spots: maximum damage, minimum effort. But alas, without the skill to find those weak spots, it was proving to be little more than a vastly underpowered sword. Still, it was sharp, so it made the bastard bleed, nonetheless. And making my enemies bleed made me happy.


    The creature¡¯s howls intensified as he struggled to be free, my blade opening up multiple lacerations on his already gruesome frame. He was stronger than Kraitos, that much was obvious, but the other half-orcs refused to let him find his base, struggling to hoist his strapping legs from the ground, leaving him poorly balanced and vulnerable. The assault was slow, but our opponent was at our mercy. And that gave me an idea. The darkness inside me picked that moment to reassert itself. With barely a second thought, I made a declaration.


    ¡°You¡¯re helpless and you¡¯re going to die. Bend the knee, give me a reason to spare you.¡±


    ¡°W-what the hell you doin¡¯?¡± stuttered BigUgly.


    ¡°I have the slaveowner trait,¡± I declared, shamelessly. ¡°And this beast is a resource that¡¯s too good to waste.¡± I leaned in to address the struggling creature, bringing my face as close to its own as my more conventional height would allow. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about hybrids, but if you¡¯re so keen to assimilate us, I¡¯m betting you want to survive, just like the rest of us.¡±


    With that, I jammed my blade deep into the creature¡¯s abdomen, a sharp reminder of the alternative to my proposition. Another glitch-like screech erupted from its corrupted lips.


    ¡°My name is Shade. Join me. Fight with me. Live.¡±


    ¡°I serve another master¡­¡± it began, but then hesitated, its body going limp. ¡°¡­but what difference is servitude to one player over another?¡±


    Yes, that¡¯s right¡­


    ¡°I would survive,¡± it continued, bowing its borrowed head, its expression now one of defeat, not defiance. ¡°I will kneel to you, slave master Shade.¡±


    Hot damn, it worked. I¡¯ve got myself a pet frankenmob. That¡¯s wayyy better than a dumb shadow foal. Kriabal will be soooo fucking jealous.


    ¡°Let him kneel,¡± I ordered, trying my best not to sound like a giddy little schoolgirl in front of my new premium-grade slave.


    The hybrid made to kneel as the nervous half-orcs slowly lowered him to the ground, relaxing their grips on his powerful frame, but only slightly. And kneel he did. But not in the way I had planned. The moment the hybrid regained his footing he reached back, grabbed Kraitos by the back of his head and flipped the huge orcan builder overhead, essentially power bombing him onto me.


    Owwww. Not what I had in mind. In hindsight, the next time my inner slaveowner decides to assert itself, a risk assessment may be in order.


    Pinned to the ground by Kraitos frame, I helplessly watched as BigUgly was swatted from the behemoths left leg. A split-second later, the other half-orc was being roughly grabbed by the head, the barbarian¡¯s mutated hand easily grasping it in its entirety. The hybrid looked to me and smiled, dropping to one knee while simultaneously slamming the poor bastard face-first into the granite, a stern message to his would-be owner. Slowly returning to its feet, the hybrid proceeded to turn its attention from us and pull up its borrowed body¡¯s inventory.


    Shit, it has access to DungeonDestroyers items, too? If he has a healing potion in there, we¡¯re fucked.


    Thankfully the swords-noob was now back on his feet, and his sword had been retrieved. I watched from under the weight of a dazed Kraitos as Al_Catraz slashed our distracted opponent across the back for 20HP of damage.


    The creature snarled, shutting its inventory window and raising its axe to meet the threat. Turning to face the petrified warrior, its focus became firmly locked on him, and that gave us an opening. Kraitos, now back to his knees (and thankfully, off me) capitalized on the distraction with a devastating uppercut to the last place any of us would wish to receive one. The creature doubled over, howling in pain.


    Like a swarm we all descended on our opponent at once, two lowly swords-noob¡¯s and three half-orc¡¯s, all attempting to punch, slash and club anything we could, albeit with little to no strategy. The swords-noob landed another decent blow, once again drawing the beasts ire, so I preempted its predictable attempt to retaliate, grabbing the hybrid¡¯s axe by the hilt just in time to stop it from cleaving my fellow swords-noob in two. There was a struggle for control over the huge weapon, but I had the added advantage of three frenzied half-orcs on my side. Relishing the gift of a momentarily distracted target, they pummeled him from all sides. His focus now split, I finally pulled the gigantic axe free from his powerful grip.


    -[ Item acquired: Axe of Tallos. A berserker-class weapon, this heavy-duty axe is capable of wielding mana. The Axe of Tallos is an enhanced item: channeled mana output is doubled by a complex series of runes etched into the blade. Durability: 212/300. ]-


    Yes, now we¡¯re talking. I have an axe in one hand and a dagger in the other. That¡¯s got to be the equal of a sword, surely?


    With a half-orc on each of its arms and a fleet-footed swords-noob keeping the hybrid occupied, I maneuvered behind my foe. Then I swung the huge blade, but to my horror, I only succeeded in striking my opponent across his lower back with the flat of the blade for a paltry -10HP damage.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    What the hell?


    -[ Warning, you do not have the berserker trait, nor do you possess the acumen to wield non-sword weaponry. Armed combat penalty active: -66% to attack strength. ]-


    Oh for fuck¡¯s sake, can¡¯t I catch a break around here?


    Yup, it turned out my proficiency with an axe was even worse than my proficiency with a dagger. And what a time to find out.


    DungeonDestroyer finally shrugged off his captors, lunging for the Swords-noob with both arms outstretched. And that was a shock in itself. My feeble attack hadn¡¯t even switched his focus to me. And given the potential power of my weapon, that was just embarrassing. Al, to his credit, didn¡¯t back down, diving forward and driving his blade deep into the advancing creature¡¯s shoulder, using its own momentum against it. The thing howled, but it didn¡¯t slow for a moment, grabbing the swords-noob¡¯s arm in both hands and forcing it from the sword that now hung from the creature¡¯s shoulder. I prepared myself for the sickening snap of my ally¡¯s limb, but the hybrid¡¯s next move was cut off by three huge grey bodies as they simultaneously launched themselves at our opponent, two diving at the backs of the hybrid¡¯s knees with running chop-blocks while BigUgly threw his weight at the creature¡¯s chest in a flying lariat.


    Wow! It¡¯s like tag-team wrestling, Middle-earth style.


    I watched in awe as the opposing momentum of the three attackers sent the hybrid to his back, allowing the swords-noob to break free. BigUgly, who was now perched on his opponent¡¯s chest, reached for the hybrid¡¯s vulnerable spot: the neck. His powerful orcan grip clamped down on the pulsing vein as he attempted to tear the creatures weak-point right out of its avatar. For a moment I dared to believe that the battle was won, but the half-orc¡¯s strength wasn¡¯t up to the task, and the attempt left him vulnerable. BigUgly¡¯s own throat was swiftly taken in the hybrid¡¯s grasp. There was a sickening crack, and his lifeless grey body was tossed aside like a rag-doll.


    -[ User: BigUgly has died. Half-orc¡¯s remaining in your war-party: 3 ]-


    This is a fucking massacre, I thought to myself, staring in horror at my fallen ally.


    Battles were still raging around us, and the odds of reinforcements were slim. Oh well. If nothing else, BigUgly had bought me time to consider my next move. I thrust my pilfered axe into Krainor¡¯s hands, hoping that an avatar capable of wielding a club would be equally capable of swinging an axe. Then I switched my dagger to my dominant hand and leapt on the rising hybrid¡¯s back, climbing the skeletal remains of its original host to reach the creature¡¯s vulnerable neck. I was going to attempt an assassination.


    Hey, I have the blade, I have to develop the skill eventually, right?


    DungeonDestroyer seemed unconcerned by my attempts to scale his hulking avatar. He now had my fellow swordsman¡¯s head in both hands, his huge thumbs placed over the screaming noob¡¯s eyes. Without a moment to lose, I reached the summit and plunged my assassin¡¯s blade deep into the squirming artery that ran down the behemoth¡¯s trunk-like neck.


    -[ Assassination failed. You do not have the proficiency to use this weapon to its full potential. ]-


    But I¡¯ve definitely made myself his prime target. Bollocks. Level 1, here I come¡­


    -[ ¡­but luck has guided your hand, severing a vital aspect of your opponent¡¯s control over his avatar. Critical hit dealt, -180HP. Damage over time effect -10HP per minute. ]-


    -180HP? And a bleeding debuff? Halleluiah¡­


    The creature lashed out madly, reaching for me as it had for Kraitos earlier. I grabbed the grotesque corpse that hung from its back and clung on for dear life, bringing down my dagger again and again for further damage. None of it came close to the strength of the critical hit, but he¡¯d been seriously injured, and it was only a matter of time before he fell. And I had the prime position to help him on his way. That was, until I didn¡¯t. Without warning, the hand-hold of the hellhound corpse began to fall away, its anchor to the barbarian severed by my well-placed strike.


    Shit!


    Determined not to give up my position of power, I held on for dear life, grasping instead for the barbarian¡¯s necklace. There was a moment of relief as I found a new hand-hold, but the leather snapped, unable to take my avatar¡¯s weight. With that, I was unceremoniously dumped to the floor.


    -[ You have stolen a rare item from a superior opponent. XP gained: thievery +40. Congratulations, you have reached thievery level 2. XP required to reach level 3, 90. Rep penalty: Neutral. You have acquired an item from an enemy who would have put it to ill use, sparing his victims the consequences. Warning: thievery is generally an immoral act, and your reputation may drop if this skill is put to ill gain. ]-


    Eh? What the hell?


    I looked in my hand, and the next message confirmed the reason for the unexpected level up.


    -[ Item acquired: Berserker¡¯s talisman. +4 to armed and unarmed berserker attack. Bonus to non-berserker combatants: +2. Durability: 23/40 ]-


    A souvenir. Awesome. I was also satisfied to learn that I¡¯d weakened the creature in more ways than one: not only had my botched assassination taken roughly two-thirds of the bastards HP, but I¡¯d seriously lowered his combat stats by stealing the useful item, and boosted my own thievery skill in the process. Result. Although dazed, I instinctively traded the hybrid¡¯s necklace for my own lucky charm, reasoning that I was going to need all the attack strength I could get to survive the fight to come.


    While I pulled myself together the others kept up the pressure, but the hybrid fought back, unleashing that glitch like scream as he almost decapitated the swords-noob with a sweeping lariat of his spike-laden arm. DungeonDestroyer was bleeding out, but he was determined to take one of us with him. Enraged, he swatted aside the weary half-orcs and loomed over the prime candidate: my fellow swordsman, whose HP was now hanging by a thread. I knew I couldn¡¯t intervene in time. My stamina was almost spent, and the fall had stunned me slightly, slowing my movements further. But to my relief, I didn¡¯t have to intervene. The hybrid suddenly screeched again and began to tumble backward.


    A swordswoman from the rabble had taken advantage of the mob¡¯s fixation on my ally, slicing the tendons on the back of the hybrid¡¯s knees with a surgical strike. I can¡¯t be certain if her intention was to help us or simply to swoop in and steal the kill. But I¡¯ve never been so glad to see a member of the Brotherhood, either way. DungeonDestroyer fell to his back and Kraitos was waiting, axe in hand. He hefted the blade overhead and brought it down on the creatures already weakened neck, severing the head completely.


    -[ User: DungeonDestroyer (level 3 barbarian berserker) has died. Congratulations, as a member of the sub-unit responsible, you have received a reward. XP gained: Armed combat: 50. Congratulations, you have reached armed combat level 4. XP until next armed combat level: 75. Accuracy, 40. XP until next accuracy level, 50. Agility: 20. XP until next agility level, 44. Defense: 25. XP until next defense level: 47. Resilience: 20. Warning: resilience XP has been rejected. Cap reached. Max HP +15. Max MP +15. Mana gain: +20. ]-


    -[ Would you like to reallocate resilience XP to another skill? Warning: A 50% penalty will apply. ]-


    I moved 10XP into perception, then fell to my ass. My stamina was still flagging, and my body felt like lead. It was about all I could manage to give Kraitos a thumbs up. The half-orc let loose a cry of joy, axe held overhead. I was glad to be alive, and the XP boost had been more than welcome, but it did irk me a little that the builder probably took the lions share. My dark side suggested that the XP the half-orc had earned was rightfully mine, and that I would be well within my rights to demand his servitude in order to re-acquire those precious gains. I shrugged off the dark thoughts, instead turning my avarice upon the axe I had gifted him. Had I been foolish to gift such a powerful weapon to another prisoner? Given time, perhaps my growing strength would have allowed me mastery over the cumbersome weapon. Then I berated myself for my selfishness. Gifting the axe to my builder buddy had been a wise move. Besides, his aid was the only reason I¡¯d survived the battle. I owed him one. Perhaps the axe would suffice as payment.


    Kraitos rushed to join another battle, no doubt delirious over his XP gain and keen to try out his new axe on another mob, so I instinctively turned to search for my other potential ally, Kriabal. I was anxious to learn if he had survived his own encounter. Multiple battles were still taking place across the huge chamber, but it didn¡¯t take me long to spot him. He was an exhausted crimson mess, barely capable of standing, let alone fighting. But his opponent was fighting from its back as the rabble descended upon it, the backs of its legs bleeding heavily, suggesting that the swordswoman had been here also.


    She must be darting from enemy to enemy, dropping them with surgical precision. Impressive.


    Spying the apprentice as he ran from battle to battle, I ordered the noobish wand-waver to attend the warlock, then noted that HarryPothead was not the only magic-user dashing around the battlefield. The gun mage seemed equally motivated, albeit to bestow harm, not healing. He raced past me, arcane pistols blazing as he darted through the melee, opening fire on distracted hybrids at every opportunity. His attacks were weak, but he was shaving off the enemy¡¯s precious HP with pellets of hardened mana at every turn, and you know what? Good on him. He was taking a huge risk, after all, drawing so many opponents ire. If the other combatants choose to leave him in the lurch, he could easily find himself with a train of enemies on his tail.


    Even the cowardly Skullfucker was assisting Grom, his sword wedged through the back of a struggling hybrid¡¯s neck while our leader hacked and slashed at the waning mob. And as for their leader, Tiny, he was taking a page out of Grom¡¯s playbook. I watched as he pinned BulldogBrit to the ground with one hand and used the other to smash the stricken hybrid¡¯s head open with a jagged piece of rock. Moments later, he was holding aloft BulldogBrit¡¯s orc-bone axes in triumph. The bastard was armed again. I was learning a very important lesson: don¡¯t underestimate the Brotherhood.


    With my stamina now back to a manageable level, I scrambled over to DungeonDestroyer¡¯s corpse, the aches and pains of a hard-fought battle hampering my every movement. The spoils of war were gone, of course. As were my allies, who¡¯d moved on to assist the others. But at least I¡¯d claimed the necklace, while the bastard was using it, no less. I was promptly joined by HarryPothead and Kriabal. As the apprentice worked his, well, magic, I took advantage of the overview that his support role had afforded him.


    ¡°Where are the other two groups?¡± I asked. ¡°There were three groups of noobs when we started.¡±


    The apprentice shook his head and explained that the other two groups had not fared so well as our own. The creatures had overpowered them, completely wiping out all eight fighters. A quick glance at our war-party¡¯s status screen confirmed this, painting a somber picture of our losses. Including myself and our leader, Grom¡¯s Guerillas were down to a paltry two barbarians, two swordsmen, three half-orcs and two magic users. When I asked what happened to the hybrids responsible, Kriabal pointed to the corridor and explained that they were retreating.


    I turned to the lumbering mobs. They were clutching their wounds and limping badly. And¡­ ¡°oh shit!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± spluttered Kriabal, raising his staff.


    ¡°They¡¯re headed back into the bosses reach,¡± I cried. ¡°We¡¯re losing our chance to pick them off.¡±


    ¡°Awwww fuck,¡± bellowed Tiny, striding over to join our gathering. Admittedly, I found myself backing away from him. Paying me no heed, he turned to the warriors on the fringes of the battle. ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there like a pack of zeros, get ¡®em.¡±


    The gun mage immediately gave chase, accompanied by a barbarian and a half-orc from our own party.


    ¡°No, everyone halt,¡± screamed Grom, ¡°they¡¯re already-¡±


    The hybrid¡¯s pursuers stopped in their tracks as three tentacles shot from the darkness to intercept them. Thanks to Grom¡¯s warning, the half-orc and gun mage narrowly avoided the bone-tipped appendages, but for the over-enthusiastic barbarian, it was too late. The lead tentacle found him, impaling him through the neck for what was easily a critical hit. As he gurgled his last, the gun mage opened fire on the recoiling tentacles, but the twisting limbs were too fast, snapping back and taking the barbarian with them. Their staggered retreat little more than a ruse, the two remaining hybrids quickly followed the tentacles into the darkness.


    ¡°Damn you,¡± the apprentice cried, running to the gun mage¡¯s side as he launched a volley of weak wand-blasts into the mouth of the corridor. ¡°You cowardly piece of shit. Do you know how much mana I burned through healing that twat, only for you to fucking kill him?¡±


    As the gun mage recharged his own mana to reload, the furious apprentice reached into his inventory, pulling out a scroll. A phrase was hastily mumbled, and the page erupted into flame, forming a dart that hovered for a moment, then shot across the chamber, over the fallen remnants of the raid party and into the darkened corridor, momentarily illuminating the contents as it struck the beast within. Something howled. Something big. But it was the wince of one who had stubbed their toe or banged their knee, not the tortured cry of a creature caught in the throes of agony.


    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± spat Grom, rushing to the apprentice and knocking him to the ground.


    ¡°Someone has to show that sack of shit what we¡¯re capable of,¡± cried the apprentice, defiantly scrambling back to his feet and shoving Grom with both hands.


    ¡°What we¡¯re capable of?¡± gasped the barbarian. ¡°Are yeh kiddin¡¯ me? All yeh did was force it to get involved. Look!¡±


    He pointed a stubby finger to the corridor, where something was definitely stirring.


    ¡°W-what¡¯s it doing,¡± gasped the apprentice.


    ¡°Comin¡¯ to finish the job, I¡¯d imagine¡± declared Kriabal, nervously. ¡°It was happy to let those poor bastards do all the work for it and pick us off from a distance. But now it knows we still have range attacks. The moment you engaged it directly, you forced the bloody thing to change tactics. You¡¯re its new target, matey.¡±


    The apprentice looked like he¡¯d just been informed that Tiny was his new cellmate. And as for the boss, well¡­ it was finally making its presence known, slowly pushing itself through the mouth of the tunnel. And it was like nothing I¡¯d ever encountered. The closest thing from nature it could be compared to was a whale, if such a thing were capable of slithering around on dry land. Its hide was dark and leathery, and its ¡®face¡¯ was almost completely comprised of a wall of enormous decaying fangs, all interlocking to form an eerie grin that was easily the height of my avatar.


    As it slithered further into the chamber (and our war party rather unsurprisingly, began to retreat) I realized that the entire length of its body was covered in tiny blinking eyes, dashing my hopes of the gun mage somehow blinding the beast with a well-aimed bullet. I reckoned that it could probably perceive in all directions, something that would work against the advantage our numbers should have provided. As it continued to exit the tunnel, I learned it was the length of a fucking bus. And helping to trail its mass from the darkness were those five writhing boned tentacles, three protruding from its left flank, and two from its right, a bleeding stub likely marking what had likely been the raid party¡¯s most successful strike against it. Just to finish the unnerving image, two goat-like legs were situated at the very back of its body. They were straining to push the beast¡¯s mass into the main area. Evidently, this thing was not built for mobility. But then it didn¡¯t need to be. It was a boss, and it was used to dumb-ass players like us coming to it.


    ¡°Throw it the apprentice, maybe that¡¯ll satisfy it,¡± demanded Grom, his complete lack of heroism reaching new lows.


    ¡°We ain¡¯t feeding it the healer,¡± rebuked Kriabal, leveling his staff at our cowardly leader¡¯s head.


    ¡°Why the hell not?¡± added the club-wielding half-orc. ¡°It¡¯s him the thing¡¯s after, right? He was the one that pissed it off.¡±


    ¡°His death could buy us time to form a proper strategy,¡± added one of the annoyingly ineffective guards, coldly.


    ¡°It¡¯s no use,¡± sighed Kriabal, casting an accusatory glance back to the terrified looking apprentice who was now cowering behind him. ¡°When this dumb wand-jockey attacked the boss, he did so as a fully signed up member of Grom¡¯s Guerrillas. And if this boss is anything like the others in Atone Online, now that we¡¯ve attacked it, it won¡¯t stop until it¡¯s wiped out our entire war party. And don¡¯t be thinkin¡¯ your off the hook,¡± he added, glaring firstly at the guards and then to the rabble. ¡°When that thing redecorates the chamber with our precious red pixels, the lair will still be on lockdown. The only difference will be that you won¡¯t have us to fight alongside you.¡±


    There was a mumble of agreement as our nervous ¡®army¡¯ continued to back away from the emerging threat. As we did so, the apprentice mumbled his thanks to the warlock for his unexpected protection. Kriabal immediately turned on his heel, backhanding the apprentice to the ground.


    ¡°Damn healers,¡± he spat. ¡°Always standin¡¯ back and leavin¡¯ guys like us to do the real work. And the moment you do finally grow a pair, you only succeed in makin¡¯ matters worse. Well, I hope yer satisfied, ¡®Harry¡¯. You¡¯ve fuckin¡¯ doomed us all.¡±

 Chapter 15.1

    I have a little experience of MMORPGs, although admittedly, nothing so sophisticated as the world of Atone Online. I¡¯m no expert, but if that tiny bit of experience has granted me anything, it¡¯s a (very) basic understanding of how this ¡®game¡¯ is supposed to work. The player should begin by levelling up against the smaller monsters, gaining experience, useful items, and acquiring gold to eventually purchase better weapons and armor. As they grow more powerful, they should work their way up to the more powerful mobs, eventually gaining the skills and experience required to join other players on a boss raid. Oh, and one more thing, they should always bring a weapon compatible with their skillset. Yeah, that last part is particularly important.


    The situation that I now found myself in went against every one of those basic principles. You know, just like the last time I fought a boss. Here I was, my second day in the dungeon, and I was being forced to face off against an opponent who was waaay out of my league, sans armor or the appropriate weapon for the job. And it was another boss, no less: one of the biggest ugliest bastards in the dungeon, a mob capable of cutting down an entire raid party.


    Yes, we¡¯d successfully fended off the first wave of mobs, but we¡¯d relied on our numbers to win the day, and that came with its own downside. This was no tightly knit party, watching each other¡¯s backs and evenly sharing the spoils. Krainor and the swordswoman had come to my aid, but the NPCs had been as much use to us as a swordsman with an axe, only some of my allies could be trusted (our leader not included, evidently) and the greedy bastards who did fight alongside me had taken all the spoils for themselves. Given the nature of our opponents, there had to be someone among our number who now possessed a spare sword, but I didn¡¯t have the first idea who.


    I stared back at the wasted opportunity that was DungeonDestroyer. Oh, how I would have loved to break him to my will, and send his enslaved ass right back at its master. But the poor bastard was beyond the reach of my slaveowner trait or Kriabal¡¯s domination spell. What he needed now, was a fucking necromancer. Oh well. A howl reminded me that I now had bigger mobs to worry about.


    As the beastly boss slithered into full view, I was surprised to find that I couldn¡¯t read its HP. I quickly checked my status menu: my perception hadn¡¯t dropped, so I began to hurriedly scroll through my status messages, in case I¡¯d missed some kind of perception debuff. Finding none, I was astonished to learn that limiting messages relating to the other sub-units hadn¡¯t just blocked out their deaths: it had also muted the gains I¡¯d made from their victories. Since my last status check, I¡¯d received a trickle of shared XP from each of the hybrids felled by ¡®Grom¡¯s Guerrillas¡¯, and the share had only increased as the size of our party had dwindled. Although not enough to gain an extra base point in any particular skill, I¡¯d gained XP in a number of areas, including one important stat that could be reallocated: resilience.


    After moving the bonus XP into perception, I checked out the one stat that was now frustrating me more than any other: mana. I knew that the mysterious substance increased a player¡¯s attack strength, something I needed more with every passing moment. And I knew that I¡¯d earned mana from every hybrid who had fallen to my war party. Yet my reserve was empty. Did I somehow use it up without realizing? Or did it simply evaporate if left unused? One thing was certain. The sooner I figured out how to channel the ambiguous life energy, the better.


    As expected, I now had a 2-point bonus to both armed and unarmed attack, thanks to my new necklace. It had come at the expense of luck, but it raised my overall proficiency with weapons, and would hopefully help to compensate for my continued lack of access to my swordsman skill.


    The creature howled again, and I could tell that a few of the inexperienced warriors were beginning to question their own luck. I didn¡¯t know what their own perception skills were like (after all, I didn¡¯t have time to go into the war party menu and read them off individually, it was difficult enough getting time to check my own stats) but just one look at the boss was enough to see that the thing was going to be no pushover.


    ¡°Kriabal?¡± I asked, leaning in to address my ally as we followed our leader to the safer end of the chamber. The rabble and the NPCs were in tow. ¡°Why can¡¯t I read that thing¡¯s HP? Is it shielded, somehow?¡±


    ¡°Bosses are harder to read,¡± he gruffly replied, adding: ¡°Hold on a sec.¡±


    The warlock patted me on the shoulder and moved up to Grom¡¯s side, whispering something in the barbarian¡¯s ear. Our ¡®general¡¯ solemnly nodded and turned to face us.


    ¡°Listen up,¡± the barbarian announced, addressing all assembled. ¡°For those whose perception ain¡¯t high enough to see it, yeh should know that that thing back there has jus¡¯ under 1000HP remaining¡­¡±


    ¡°1000? Fuck!¡± Gasped Kraitos.


    ¡°We¡¯re doomed,¡± agreed Al_Catraz.


    ¡°It¡¯s max HP was 3000, to begin with,¡± Grom continued, before pointing to the distant crumpled heap that had once been the raid party. ¡°You can thank those poor bastards for that. They¡¯ve shown us that it can be hurt. Now it¡¯s up to us to prove that it can die.¡±


    ¡°By retreating?¡± scoffed Tiny. ¡°Yeh do realize this is a dead end, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Just puttin¡¯ some distance between us so we can talk strategy, is all. Yeh¡¯ve all seen that thing¡¯s reach, I take it¡±


    ¡°This is more than enough distance,¡± spat one of the guards. ¡°You¡¯re just buying time for your tiny human processor to come up with a plan. Everyone halt, we can¡¯t afford to give up any more ground.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, stop wasting our time and tell us its weaknesses,¡± I demanded. Grom looked shocked by my decision to side with the NPCs, but I didn¡¯t care. He was a shitty leader, and I was going to have the benefit of his high perception skill if nothing else.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Its toughened hide gives it a high resistance to physical attack, especially blunt trauma,¡± he announced, finally giving us the benefit of his ability to ¡®read¡¯ our nearby opponent.


    ¡°As well as magical resistance?¡± gasped Kriabal.


    ¡°¡¯Fraid so. That means it¡¯s gonna take steel to hurt it, not clubs or fists. It goes without sayin¡¯, the tentacles will be the main problem. An¡¯ those eyes can see in jus¡¯ about every direction¡­¡±


    Just as I suspected. Damn!


    ¡°But the tentacles have their own weakness,¡± he added, giving us a small modicum of hope. ¡°Think of ¡®em like a whip. They can only be launched wiv precision from a distance. At close range, they have a fraction of the momentum, an¡¯ much less accuracy. I¡¯m bettin¡¯ that if we get close enough, we might actually stand a chance of severin¡¯ ¡®em at the root.¡±


    ¡°Get me close enough an¡¯ I¡¯ll get the job done,¡± bragged Tiny, holding aloft his shamelessly looted blades. Kraitos agreed, proudly brandishing the axe I¡¯d gifted him.


    Kriabal agreed with the strategy, but demanded a small tweak, ordering the big man to swop axes with Kraitos. This drew looks of confusion from both warriors.


    ¡°Those bone axes have magical resistance,¡± the warlock continued. ¡°Which means they can¡¯t channel mana worth a damn. Kraitos axe, on the other hand, doubles the user¡¯s mana output. But he¡¯s got orc in him, so he can¡¯t wield mana. That axe is wasted on him.¡±


    It was good to have someone as experienced as Kriabal among us. The trade made sense, even Tiny could see that. But he still had a good question.


    ¡°Why the fuck did BulldogBrit have ¡®em, then?¡±


    ¡°Because he was a stupid fuck who thought they looked cool,¡± the warlock replied, bluntly.


    Tiny seemed amused by this. I watched as my precious loot found its way into the barbarian¡¯s huge hands, pretty much ruling out the possibility that I¡¯d ever see the Axe of Tallos again. Kraitos, in turn took the orc-bone axes. With that, Kriabal began to make his way through the party, searching for other opportunities to better re-allocate our weapons.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mind using something that was made from the repurposed remains of your kind?¡± I asked, as the builder turned the morbid blades over in his hands.


    ¡°My heritage is Irish, not orcish,¡± he laughed.


    Oh yeah, not your real body. Good point.


    I watched as Tiny began to charge the weapon with mana, and cursed my orcan friend¡¯s inability to school me in the wielding of the glowing energy, making a mental note to pick Kriabal¡¯s brain on the subject at the next possible opportunity.


    ¡°The boss¡¯s main weakness is the stomach sac,¡± continued Grom, redirecting our attention to the creature as it slowly slithered deeper into the chamber. ¡°It has no eyes on its underside, creating a blind spot, and the skin is much weaker there. We¡¯ll still need to work hard to penetrate it, but if we enter from the right angle, we might just pierce the bastard thing¡¯s heart.¡±


    ¡°You heard the man,¡± added Kriabal. ¡°Everybody stay calm and we might just get out of this aliv-¡±


    He was cut off as (with absolutely no warning) the NPC guards let out a deafening taunt, readied their spears and began to charge at the distant creature. The gun mage immediately began to lay down covering fire.


    ¡°Oh for the god¡¯s sake, am I talking to myself here?¡± grumbled the warlock, raising his own staff.


    The rabble began to charge, but Tiny ordered them to hold back. When the swordswoman and the gun mage protested, their leader declared that he would win the day on their behalf, ensuring that their party lived to reap the XP rewards. The bastard! He was risking our odds of survival on a gambit to power-level his troops, shielding them from the boss battle and letting us do the heavy lifting. Before Grom could challenge the asshole tank¡¯s strategy Tiny charged into the fray. With that, his troops retreated to join the zero¡¯s huddled next to the entrance tunnel.


    ¡°What now?¡± I asked, surveying our pitiful war party. It amounted to two swordsmen, three half-orcs, our barbarian leader, and two magic users.


    ¡°Those dumb NPC¡¯s have dammed us,¡± growled Grom, turning to the apprentice. ¡°I would strongly suggest yeh get the fuck outta sight before that thing spots you. Find somewhere to hide that¡¯s close enough to heal us, but only after we draw its ire.¡± With that, he sighed and hefted his bloodied sword overhead. ¡°H¡¯orcs, I need you to keep the hybrids off our backs. Not you, Kraitos, we need that axe up front.¡±


    ¡°Two of us against two of them?¡± balked one of the half-orcs.


    ¡°They¡¯re injured, that should even the odds a little. See if you can convince the rabble to help yeh. The gun mage an¡¯ swordswoman looked especially pissed about bein¡¯ benched. There¡¯s still a few independent combatants hidin¡¯ amongst the zeros, maybe they¡¯ll help yeh. Everyone else, join the charge. We need to give the boss as many targets as possible to occupy those damn tentacles. Our priority is to get our strongest sword and axe-men right up to that thing in one piece.¡±


    We should be prepared to sacrifice ourselves to give you cover. How convenient.


    With that Grom charged off in pursuit of the NPCs, followed by Al_Catraz, Kraitos and the other half-orcs. The apprentice followed, albeit from a safer distance. Only Kriabal and I remained.


    ¡°Pack of impatient assholes,¡± he cursed. ¡°I wasn¡¯t finished taking a bloody inventory, yet.¡± With that he spun his staff, and with a sigh announced: ¡°Oh well, once more into the fray, eh noobster?¡±


    ¡°What about me? I cried, grabbing Kriabal¡¯s arm. ¡°I don¡¯t have a sword capable of penetrating that things hide. I¡¯ll be useless even if I do manage to reach it.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm. You have impressive resilience, though. And you¡¯re naturally faster than a barbarian or a half-orc. Okay fella, here¡¯s the plan. The NPCs are closing in, so that thing¡¯s gonna be pretty distracted in a few seconds. Let¡¯s use that distraction. Go to scavenge what you can from the raid party. Their bodies are probably on the brink of respawnin¡¯, an¡¯ when they do, they¡¯ll take their items with them. They might be carrying items that can turn the tide, so the sooner we loot them, the better, understood?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Good. Once you¡¯ve weaponed up, drag Nyx to safety. When that¡¯s done you can join the assault and die with the rest of us.¡±


    Did he have to look so cheery when he said the last part? He made to leave, so I grabbed his arm again, this time reaching into my inventory with my free hand. Selecting my ¡®lucky¡¯ charm, I pressed it into Kriabal¡¯s hand, explaining that it was a loan, and that I¡¯d be needing it back afterwards. It was only fair. He¡¯d tried to reallocate our supplies as best he could, I figured someone should do the same for him. The warlock graciously accepted.


    ¡°One last thing¡­¡±


    ¡°In case yeh haven¡¯t noticed, we¡¯re late fer a boss fight, lad¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s important.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°Go on, then.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ how does mana work, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake swords-noob, you picked the wrong time fer that one. An¡¯ the wrong bugger to ask, too.¡±


    ¡°What? I thought warlocks were experts in wielding mana.¡±


    ¡°Different classes use mana in different ways, lad. I know as much about empowerin¡¯ a sword as Grom knows about personal hygiene. Now get a fucking move on, those bodies will vanish any second.¡±


    I looked to the far end of the tunnel, where all hell had finally broken loose. And like a noob with a death-wish, I ran to meet it.

 Chapter 15.2

    The NPCs may have lacked patience, but one thing they didn¡¯t lack was accuracy. Mana-infused spears arced through the air to meet our hulking enemy while simultaneously, five tendrils lashed out to greet the weapon¡¯s owners, tearing through their lightly armored bodies and halving their numbers in the blink of an eye. The A.I.¡¯s impatience had cost them dearly, but all ten spears had found their target regardless, some even burrowing past the creature¡¯s thick hide via the tender access point of the beast¡¯s countless eye sockets. The cumulative effect of the volley of mana-tipped weapons was more than welcome: it had shaved 160HP from the land shark¡¯s impressive reserve.


    Only 840HP to go, then, eh? Noooo problem.


    The boss¡¯s howl echoed through the chamber, intermingled with the death-cries of the five nameless guards. Their loss seemed unjustified in comparison to the amount of damage dealt, but that was only half of the driven puppet¡¯s strategy. Those who had fallen had done so to give the other five a chance of reaching their foe in one piece. Before the bone-tipped tentacles could shrug off their prey, recoil and strike again, the fallen¡¯s unfeeling colleagues had already pushed on, giving their lifeless brothers nary a second glance as they raised held up swords forged of pure mana and continued the seemingly futile charge, with Grom and the others not far behind them.


    You savvy prick, I thought to myself, now eyeing our untrustworthy leader. You could have ordered us to join the NPCs the very moment they charged. But you held back long enough to make sure they became the first wave, didn¡¯t you?


    The tentacles moved to intercept ¡®Grom¡¯s Guerrillas¡¯, bridging the gap between the two waves of fighters with haste. But they were laden with both the remains of the NPC guards, and a growing layer of ice that I could only suspect was the warlock¡¯s doing. Lacking the momentum of the earlier projectile attack the beast¡¯s strikes were easily parried by my war-party. Emboldened, they charged on, joining the swarm of bodies that had now descended upon the left flank of the lumbering colossus.


    A strategy was quickly formed: the guards, Grom and Al_Catraz were fighting off the lashing tendrils, while maintaining a defensive ring around Tiny and Kraitos, freeing the axe-wielding warriors to hack at the base of the beast¡¯s powerful limbs like a pair of cosplaying lumberjacks. Kriabal continued to provide support from the sidelines, encasing the tentacles in blocks of ice that served to weigh them down, further slowing the beasts attempts to fight back.


    Thanks to Kriabal the attacking appendages now lacked the power they¡¯d exhibited when they¡¯d been launched like projectiles, but with their bone tips still in play, they were more than lethal. One thing quickly became obvious: the beast was distracted. And that was my cue to act. I reactivated my war-party notifications and made a dash for the wounded raid party, cursing as I learned that one of the web-like tendrils was still extended in my direction. Awakened by my approach, it began thrashing from side to side, blocking my path.


    Shit. It may not have the striking force it had earlier, but that tip is sharp, and there¡¯s no way a puny dagger will deflect it. If only I still had my shield.


    That was when I had an idea. Yes, I had nothing to deflect it. But perhaps I could still distract it.


    ¡°Samusk, get your hairy ass over here,¡± I bellowed, my voice echoing across the vast chamber. ¡°And hurry up about it.¡±


    Unable to fight my command the dwarf obliged, leaving the relative safety of the huddled zeros to race to my side. As he did so, a status message reminded me that time was increasingly of the essence.


    -[ User: Al_Catraz has died. Swordsmen remaining in your war-party: 1. ]-


    Squinting in the direction of the nine-on-one battle (now eight-on-one, I lamented) I learned that the swords-noob had been impaled through the eye-socket by one of the land shark¡¯s bone-tipped tentacles, a gruesome end that I immediately resolved to personally avoid at all costs.


    That pledge made, I ordered the dwarf to distract the tentacle that now blocked my own path. This led to a tirade of swearing and name-calling that I promptly dismissed. The little git was already a zero, I argued. What possible harm could come from using him as bait. I told him exactly that and after reminding him that he now had extra resilience (one whole points worth), I ordered him to lead the lingering limb as far from me as possible. After one final suggestion that my mother did inappropriate things with orcs around the back of mount Mordor, the dwarf begrudgingly obliged. The bait was promptly taken, and the flailing limb began its pursuit.


    Happy to have finally found a use for the dwarf¡¯s master-level skill when it came to running away from things, I broke into a sprint of my own. I was almost at the raid party when a bloodied hybrid moved to intercept me.


    Shit, I might just be able to take the bastard down, it looks pretty fucked after the earlier battle. But I don¡¯t have the time. Samusk¡¯s distraction won¡¯t last long, and those bodies will rot any minute, taking their weapons with them.


    As it turned out, I hadn¡¯t been the only one waiting for an opportunity to sneak past the thrashing limb. Two figures rushed past me, and the hybrid was tackled to the ground by the impressive bulk of the remaining half-orcs.


    Fuck, you guys are really making a habit of saving my ass. Not that I¡¯m complaining¡­


    Taking advantage of the distraction that was now being provided by Samusk, they began to drag their allocated opponent from the boss¡¯s reach, clearing my way reach the remains of the decimated raid party. And not a moment too soon¡­


    -[ Your slave ¡®Samusk¡¯ has died. Time until respawn: Five minutes. ]-


    Oops.


    I turned to see Samusk¡¯s lifeless avatar being pinned to the ground by the bone-tipped tentacle, his much-lauded brains now spilled across the dungeon floor for all to see. And I have to admit, I felt a little guilty. But only a little.


    Try not to think of it as sending him to his premature death, I told myself. Think of it as sending him to his nice cozy respawn point back in our cell¡­


    I did have one concern over my slave¡¯s death, though. The limb that slaughtered him would inevitably be on the hunt for a new target. Racing to the raid party, I dove behind the pile of bodies, comically peering over them to check for possible threats to my noobish ass. To my relief, the writhing limb was trying to assist the hybrid, who was on the receiving end of a two-on-one beating. Its reach wasn¡¯t quite up to the task, but it was more than occupied by the attempt.


    As my gaze followed the limb¡¯s snaking form back to its source, I took solace in the fact that the other four tentacles were also occupied. In fact, one had been severed completely. The other three flailed madly as my war-party and the NPCs parried the strikes using empowered weapons and blades of pure mana, buying our axe-men time to move onto severing the next. I also noted, however, that the NPC¡¯s had taken the brunt of the damage thus far, and that despite their high HP, two were already dead, their bodies slumped next to the bloodied corpse of Al-Catraz.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Dead or alive, they were doing their part, so it was time for me to do mine. I checked the amazon for signs of life, and yes, she was still breathing. This was despite a nasty looking wound that would probably have killed a noob like me. But then she was the female equivalent of the barbarian, so her natural resilience probably dwarfed even my own. My attempts to communicate drew only slurred mumbles, confirming that the warrior was dazed. Or possibly drunk. (if it was the latter, I envied her¡­ I¡¯d kill for some prison hooch, right about now.)


    The other three barbarians had not been not so lucky. Their vital organs had been ripped open by the bone-tipped tentacles and their eyes were cold and vacant. Admittedly, where most would see three fallen heroes, cut down in their prime, all I saw before me were three scantily clad loot crates. Oh, and a wizard, too. He would be worth checking for potions, elixirs, and other magically charged items. But for now, that didn¡¯t concern me. What I needed more than anything, was a weapon.


    Focusing on the muscular pile of corpses before me, I realized that I could call up all four of their inventories simultaneously. Perhaps this was the benefit of being a level 2 thief and not just a bog-standard looter of the dead, I pondered. Faced with the haul of raid-party level weaponry, I was like a kid in a candy shop. (Albeit a candy shop filled with all manner of sharp deadly murder-implements. Which are usually the best kind, admittedly.)


    Their ¡®deceased¡¯ status made robbing them ridiculously easy, but as I attempted to empty their inventories into my own, I realized that I had a serious limitation. Despite my increased strength, I still had a noob¡¯s carrying capacity.


    Dammit!


    Where the higher-level warriors had multiple carrying slots, I had only four. Technically my hands should have counted as two extra ¡®slots¡¯, but if I was going to trail Nyx off the battlefield, I would need to leave both hands free. Add the fact that some weapons took up two or more slots due to their excessive size, and my options were surprisingly limited. There was no question about it: I was going to have to be very selective about what I claimed.


    To my further ire, I saw a complete and utter lack of powerful, playing field levelling artefacts that might help blow that ugly thing off the face of the earth.


    My priority was the acquisition of a sword, so I immediately discarded the many battle-axes on offer and the apprentice¡¯s wand, understanding that they would be an ill fit for my swordsman avatar. This left me with two weapons to choose from. Both swords were much less refined looking than my swordsman-class weapon had been, one being embellished with the standard gaudy skull, the other looking almost organic in its construction. It was the latter that really caught my eye. This, I concluded, was a berserker class sword. Admittedly, berserker class seemed to translate into ¡®forged by a blind blacksmith after a few pints¡¯¡­ its edges were crooked, and it had strange symbols scratched into the blade like some kind of arcane graffiti. It was reassuringly weighty, though.


    -[ Acquired: Barbarian¡¯s Arcane Blade. This is part of a three-item set. Forged by T¡¯arus, a mighty warrior possessing both wizard and barbarian skill sets. This is an epic class item. T¡¯arus became lost in these dungeons¡¯ centuries ago, and his items are extremely rare. The sword doubles the user¡¯s armed combat skill, and also adds one extra point of resilience. This item also doubles the output of all channeled mana. Item durability 85/100. ]-


    Wowsa. Now that¡¯s a nice boost. Although I still know fuck all about wielding mana. I wonder if the other blade would be better suited to my limitations?


    -[ Acquired: Blade of Swiftness. This is part of a two-item set. Rumored to be empowered by Mercury himself, this item is truly a gift from the gods. This is an epic class item. The sword doubles the user¡¯s speed and accuracy, and also adds one extra point of agility. This item adds 10% to the output of all channeled mana. Item durability 92/100. ]-


    Damn, which do I choose? Strength, or speed? I already have strength in spades, and the agility would be a good boost. But if that thing¡¯s hide is as tough as they say, I might need all the damage-dealing potential I can get.


    A quick look through my decomposing loot chests had also produced healing potions, a couple of ¡®common¡¯ level shields, and various other elixirs. With useful items like that on offer, I couldn¡¯t possibly justify pocketing both. Yep, that carrying limit was definitely a pain in the ass stat that I really needed to level up. And as usual, I was finding out at the worst possible time. So, with only one sword and two items worth of carrying space, and an opponent who¡¯d be demanding that I put whatever I grabbed to use almost immediately, I needed to make a decision, and fast.


    t/ake arc.a/ne b/ad.e


    What? Who¡¯s there?


    t/aaake i/t. Stor/e your man.a//


    What the hell? Was the damn glitching sword talking to me? And did it want me to feed it? I checked my mana reserve. Again, it was lower than I¡¯d expected. Then right before my eyes, it dropped from 17 points to 16.


    You are dropping, I gasped.


    -puuus/h it inttto sw000rd///b444 go.ne


    ¡­echoed the glitching message. I demanded answers of it, but no further information came.


    With nothing else to guide me, tossed the Blade of Swiftness (in the hope that separating it from its owner would stop it from vanishing with him) and began to examine the arcane blade¡¯s stats. In doing so, I realized that the weapon had its own mana count, next to the durability stat.


    How did I not see this before? Is this my perception stat at play?


    The counter was at 0/300. Yup, it was waiting to be filled up like a fancy sports car with an empty petrol tank. The voice said that I needed to push the substance into my sword. Could I simply will my mana into the blade? Well, there was only one way to find out. With Grom¡¯s Guerrillas and the few remaining NPCs keeping the creature off my back, I wouldn¡¯t get a better chance to try.


    I grasped the sword, then concentrated on transferring the stat across. A warmth ran down my arm, and for the briefest of moments, the sword glowed, its runes infused with energy. My mana count fell to zero, but the swords mana stat leapt up by 16 points.


    Bingo. And it made perfect sense. Unlike mages, barbarians had no magical acumen. Obviously, they needed to use tools like this one to store their mana, lest it fades away. I wasn¡¯t sure yet if the same was true of swordsmen, but we were both blade class, so I figured there were bound to be similarities.


    Fired up by my new discovery, I turned to the supply of mana potions. There were six to be claimed from the three corpses, and each claimed to be worth a total of 50 MP. I considered downing all of them, reasoning that there was no sense in filling my inventory with items that could be combined with my stomach (and ultimately my sword). But what if Kriabal needed a mana boost in the heat of battle? And wouldn¡¯t Tiny¡¯s mana-doubling axe benefit just as much as I could, perhaps even more so? There were health potions to be harvested too, and so little space to carry them. Decisions, decisions.


    That was when I spied that the corpse named Craynor also had a useful item outside of his inventory: a sword sheath. And to my relief, it wasn¡¯t soul-bound like the earlier barbarian¡¯s bracers. Result. This meant that I could save two slots by draping the impressive blade across my back, freeing up my arms for rescue and my inventory for other items. And then a further thought occurred¡­ back during the earlier raid, how did the tank carry the cryo-grenade and the healing potion that I¡¯d shamelessly stolen from him without placing it in his inventory?


    My smile grew as I swopped the barbarian¡¯s belt and my own, gaining two much-needed carry slots. I hung a mana potion from each and felt incredibly smug.


    This should put some pep in Tiny¡¯s axe.


    I give the Amazon on a healing potion from her friend¡¯s supply, pouring it down her lips and taking care not to waste a drop. Then I pocketed the other two, leaving me with two of my original slots. I followed this by stealing a barbarian¡¯s bracers for an impressive defense boost of +4. Ecstatic that wearing the powerful items didn¡¯t affect my inventory space, I finished off by pocketing two more mana potions, drinking the other two and channeling the energy into my blade before sheathing it. It dawned on me that I no longer had space for my trophy of the rogue¡¯s downfall: the assassin¡¯s dagger. But then it dawned on me: perhaps I didn¡¯t need to discard it. I switched it for the basic dagger held in my ankle strap, and to my relief, the item fitted.


    Yes! In my two days here, I¡¯d never felt so powerful. I¡¯d gone from the Emperor of Noobs, to the Noob-inator.


    With that I cursed the hit my rep took for robbing the dead, consoled myself with the fact that stealing such a powerful sword had given me a massive boost to my thievery skill (one whole level), then set about hoisting the dazed general with the intention of dragging her to the safety of the chamber¡¯s outskirts. What a haul. That had been a worthwhile shopping trip, and no mistake. Now I just needed to hold onto it.


    I watched from behind the corpses, awaiting my chance to slip by without the enemy¡¯s notice. Suddenly, the bodies I¡¯d callously raided crumbled to dust, claimed by the game¡¯s respawn engine. Leaving me completely without cover.


    Out in the open and holding the bait, I was a sitting duck. The creature turned its tendril from the battling half-orcs, and the bone-tipped limb came hurtling toward me. Worse, the distance between us was giving it momentum. Flight was no longer an option, not with my heavily-armored potential employer in my arms.


    It was time for me to fight, or die.

 Chapter 15.3

    It was time for me to fight, or die.


    Thanks to my shameless act of thievery I had two options available to me: block or parry. Okay, technically I had three options, but using the heavily armored amazon as a shield was the sort of dick move I would expect from Samusk, and not indicative of the player I aspired to be. Besides, Nyx was potentially my means of joining a powerful gang. Using her to block an enemy attack probably wouldn¡¯t enamor her to me, or get me in Kronan¡¯s good books, for that matter.


    The tendril was heading straight for my unprotected face. Mind made up, I swung the blade with a well-timed parry, knocking the lethal tip aside. The sword was heavy, but thanks to my impressive strength stat, it was nothing I couldn¡¯t handle. And boy did it feel good to finally have a weapon I could use. Unfortunately, while the ¡®epic¡¯ item was more than capable of deflecting the mob¡¯s assault, what it wasn¡¯t doing, was hurting the bastard. My precious mana had stayed put, and the land shark¡¯s HP barely budged as metal clashed with bone.


    Bollocks.


    Without hesitation, the tentacle twisted back on itself with the intention of lining up for another strike, this one aimed at my (pathetically unarmored) torso. I barely positioned my bracer in time, blocking the creature¡¯s jab with my arm. The item did its job, easily absorbing the impact, albeit at the cost of a few durability points. With a sigh of relief (and the digital equivalent of adrenaline now pumping through my avatar) I raised my sword and lashed out in a wide arc at my twisting foe. It was righting itself for another strike and couldn¡¯t hope to recoil from my attack in time. The arcane blade finally drew blood, but the cut was frustratingly shallow, barely slowing the writhing tentacle as it withdrew then immediately renewed its assault.


    Why the fuck isn¡¯t this working? I cursed. I¡¯ve willed my mana into the damn thing already. Do I have to fucking will it out again?


    As I deflected another lunge from my would-be impaler (again, barely scratching the bastard in the process) it occurred to me that forcing the mana out of the blade was probably exactly what I needed to do. Otherwise, how would the mindless instrument know how much of my precious mana supply to use up? Admittedly, this crash-course in VRMMORPG¡¯s was really starting to piss me off. I didn¡¯t mind a bit of trial and error, I was new to the game, after all. There wasn¡¯t even a bloody forum to check for tips.


    ¡°Siriso, if you can hear me, I¡¯m really not appreciating the learning curve in Atone Online. Sort it out, would you?¡±


    My prayers fell on deaf ears, as the impact of the tendril struck my bracer hard. I tried to return the favor, but its recoil was to fast, leaving me cleaving the air like the amateur I was.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± I continued, venting my frustrations to the supposedly omnipresent priest who put me here. ¡°Don¡¯t you at least have a fucking dungeon rat I can practice on or something?¡±


    Things were looking bad. Even if I continued to block every strike, it was painfully obvious that my stamina would run out before my opponents HP. And running would just give it an easy target. Lacking options, I readied myself as something much deadlier than a dungeon rat twisted in mid-air and banked toward me, knowing that even with my high endurance, one successful strike on the creature¡¯s part could easily separate my noobish head from my noobish body. I raised my bracers to block, but this time, the snake-like appendage missed its mark. The bone-tipped spear suddenly nosedived, dragged down by the unexpected weight of a cluster of ice that had formed around its hilt almost instantly.


    Kriabal. Thank the gods.


    ¡°Stop playin¡¯ wiv yer tentacle and get her the fuck out of here,¡± he cried, pointing to the huddled zeros at the back of the room (you know, in case I needed directions). ¡°I¡¯ll hold the wriggling bastard off.¡±


    With that he summoned another blast of ice from his staff, fusing a lower segment of the tentacle to the floor. Sensing that the warlock was now the greater threat, my attacker began slowly dragging its once-lethal tip across the floor and away from me. But it was now burdened by huge blocks of ice in two points, and the weight was too much for it. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.


    I lay Nyx down, raised my blade overhead as if preparing to chop a log, and brought the weapon down hard on the vulnerable appendage. As I did so, I imagined all of my energy flowing through the arcane weapon, unleashing it as I sliced deep into the beast¡¯s tender flesh. Somewhere behind me the land shark howled in pain. And when I heard the next status message, I smiled.


    -[ You cut the land shark for -60 HP damage. ]-


    -[ Congratulations: You have channeled mana into your first successful attack, dealing an impressive amount of damage to an opponent whose level greatly surpasses your own. You have developed a new skill: mana manipulation, level 1. XP required until level 2, 100. ]-


    Fuck yeah. I¡¯d buried my blade deep into the bastards hide. Not enough to sever the limb, admittedly. But I¡¯d only used a quarter of my MP and if the howl was anything to go by, I¡¯d really gotten momma boss¡¯s attention. Which admittedly, wasn¡¯t necessarily a good thing.


    I turned to the main battle, fearful that the next thing I saw would be three tentacles racing out to meet me, but to my relief, my sword-wielding allies were still keeping the remaining trio of tendrils occupied. Unfortunately, so were our vulnerable axe-men. Tiny and Kraitos were now heavily bloodied, a worrying sign that too many of the land shark¡¯s strikes were slipping through. And the reason why was obvious: Grom was looking exhausted, and three dead guards were now lying at the NPC guard¡¯s feet.


    Dammit, if Grom falls, Kraitos and I will lose his leadership buff. Where the hell is that damn apprentice, he¡¯s supposed to be healing them.


    Looking to the blocked exit and the huddled zeros gathered there, I cursed Tiny for ordering the rabble to hold back. They seemed content to let us take most of the damage, like a pack of vultures waiting to swoop in and finish the creature off for the lion¡¯s share of the XP and whatever items they could loot from our still-cooling corpses. While on that train of thought I cursed the damn independents among them. Things were getting desperate, but the cowardly swordsmen and barbarians who¡¯d declined Grom¡¯s request (and ignored my own) were still cowering amongst the zeros in the hope that it all worked out without them having to get their own hands bloody.


    Bastards! If only I could command them into action, like I did Samusk, I thought to myself, the urge to dominate rising once more.


    I shrugged off the thought and refocused on the tentacle at hand. It had pulled away to a safe distance and was repeatedly striking the ground, desperate to break free of its icy burden. Again, Kriabal ordered me to get General Nyx to safety. I took her in my arms and dragged her to her feet. To my surprise, she was now almost capable of supporting herself.


    Perhaps her stunned debuff is finally wearing off. Gods know we could use the reinforcements.


    I held up her head and looked into her eyes, praying for the focus that suggested she¡¯d finally made the transition from ¡®luggage¡¯ to ¡®ally¡¯. As I did so, I was taken aback by her avatar¡¯s beauty. In truth, the part of me that had played games such as this in my youth expected nothing less: these sorts of games were heavily marketed toward horny pubescent boys, after all. But I understood that as a human prisoner, her facial features were all her own. And they were stunning. If we¡¯d met under more normal circumstances, she would definitely be cringing at one of my appalling chat-up lines by now. As I prepared to do the needful, I wished that our first interaction could be something a little bit more romantic.


    Oh well, here goes.


    Without further hesitation I slapped her across the face, figuring that it was the most urgent way to waken the drowsy warrior from her daze. I¡¯d barely withdrawn my hand when a muscular arm shot out, clamping down hard on my windpipe.


    -[ You are being choked by an amazon warrior. A DOT effect has been initiated. 5HP penalty per minute for the duration of the attack. ]-


    ¡°Whoa, t-there¡± I gasped, ¡°S-saved you.¡±


    The amazon¡¯s eyes were fixed on me and they were full of fury. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that fell from her lips was a glitched, garbled mess.


    Fuck, that isn¡¯t good. Neither for that matter is the damage over time effect she¡¯s having on my windpipe.


    To my relief, the grip on my throat relaxed. The awkward moment had been interrupted by the warrior¡¯s pressing need to fall unconscious again. The fact that even my damsel in distress wanted to kill me wasn¡¯t lost on me. I really was the dungeons most slappable noob.


    Oh well. She¡¯s still my ticket into a decent gang, so I guess I¡¯d better rescue her anyway.


    I sighed and hoisted her avatar over my shoulder. I was about to retreat from the battlefield when suddenly I was overwhelmed by a torrent of status updates.


    -[ Enemy user: B.A.Barbarious (level 3 barbarian berserker) has died. Congratulations, as a member of the war-party responsible, you have received a reward. XP gained: Unarmed combat: 20. XP until next unarmed combat level: 40. Agility: 5. XP until next agility level, 39. Defense: 5. XP until next defense level: 42. Resilience: 20. Warning: resilience XP has been rejected. Cap reached. Max HP +5. Max MP +5. Mana gain: +10. ]-


    Well, well, that was good to know. I may have failed in gaining the trust of sleeping beauty, but when it came to back up, it seemed that my three ugly sisters would more than suffice. With an assist from Kriabal, my half-orc allies had finally ended the rogue hybrid and were riding a crest of adrenaline. As I reallocated the resilience XP into perception, Trok and Grimmie dove on the thrashing tentacle pinning it down, allowing Kriabal to fuse more and more of its length to the floor with his ice spell. And with that, I had all the breathing space I needed.


    Everywhere but in my damn windpipe.


    -[ You are being choked. A DOT effect has been initiated. 5HP penalty per minute for the duration of the attack. ]-


    The amazon had hooked her arm around my neck and was pressing down hard. There was a sudden flurry of movement as she shifted her weight off my shoulders and fell backwards. I tried to pull her away but the savvy amazon didn¡¯t let go, grabbing me in a front face-lock and taking me with her. Falling to her back she drove my head into the unforgiving granite, busting open my forehead.


    -[ Amazon warrior drives you headfirst to the floor for -20 damage. ]-


    Crimson began to pour into my vision. To make matters worse she hadn¡¯t released the hold. I was being choked to death.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to bloody rescue you,¡± I cried, elbowing her in the ribs to no avail. ¡°Give me a fucking break.¡±


    And yes, those are the wrong words to use when dealing with a powerful confused warrior who happens to have you by the neck. Thankfully she declined the accidental invitation to murder me in cold blood, releasing her grasp. Either she¡¯d come to her senses, or she¡¯d finally realized that there was a much bigger threat to worry about.


    ¡°You¡¯re that swords-noob from the boss raid¡­¡± she began.


    I didn¡¯t hear the rest. Because I¡¯d just received the worst status message imaginable.


    -[ Leader: Grom has died. Grom¡¯s Guerrillas have been disbanded. ]-


    -[ Warning: The loss of your war-party¡¯s leader has removed all buffs provided by his leadership. Building -3. Perception -2. Rep -2. Strength -1. Resilience -1. Charisma -1. Luck -1.]-


    ¡°Oh, holy hell. That¡¯s all we fucking need.¡±


    Horrified, I turned to witness the aftermath of the barbarian¡¯s death. Two tentacles were protruding from his huge back, having burrowed all the way through his avatar, spearing him in in a pincer movement. Then just as suddenly, they pulled in opposite directions, ripping his stricken avatar asunder.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Fuck!


    As I stared in horror the amazon also watched. Unlike mine, her expression was one of indifference: cold and dispassionate, as if completely unfazed. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and spoke.


    ¡°You picked Grom as your leader? Fucking Grom? You were doomed from the bloody start.¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± I spat, surveying the gory scene. ¡°If I wasn¡¯t trying to save your ass, I might have got a mana potion to him in time. Now I can¡¯t even read the others HP.¡±


    With the death of Grom, Kraitos had been forced to move to defense, tanking to cover Tiny while the two remaining NPCs assisted. Tiny meanwhile remained fixated on hacking away at the base of the limbs, lost in a haze of bloodlust and brutality.


    Cursing my lost perception buff, I demanded that Nyx tell me how they were doing. Somewhat taken aback by my new set of balls, she confirmed that Tiny and Kraitos weren¡¯t exactly on death¡¯s door, but that the same couldn¡¯t be said of the NPC guards.


    ¡°Don¡¯t we have a damn healer?¡± she asked.


    ¡°There¡¯s an apprentice hiding somewhere, but good luck finding him. Why the hell did you attack me?¡±


    The question was ignored as Nyx bellowed an order to our front line.


    ¡°You lot. Retreat from the boss, asap. We need to regroup and come up with a new strategy.¡±


    The four warriors immediately did as commanded. Even the NPCs. Of course, if I¡¯d been hammering away at the boss on the front line while everyone else was dying around me, I¡¯d be glad on an excuse to retreat, too. With that General Nyx made to stand on her own, cried out, and fell to her backside again.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you stand?¡± I asked, helping her up again. ¡°Is it the dazed debuff? Is it still active?¡±


    ¡°No, it wore off ages ago,¡± she replied, accepting my aid and thankfully not attempting to powerbomb me in the process. ¡°I think I¡¯ve been poisoned. I can barely control my damn avatar.¡±


    I thought back to the infected hybrids and prayed that that was all it was. The way she became fixated on me after I slapped her¡­ it had been worryingly mob-like behavior.


    Choosing not to panic her with my half-cocked theories, I turned to Kriabal and the half-orcs, who seemed to have things under control. But even so, Trok and Grimmie¡¯s attempt to bludgeon the trapped tentacle was going painfully slowly. They needed a swordsman.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting you off the battlefield,¡± I declared. ¡°I need to go and help-¡±


    ¡°Shhhh, I¡¯m checking my status messages from when I was unconscious. Dammit, I was right. Poisoned. And my status menu¡¯s bugged to hell.¡± She sighed and pushed me aside, finally standing under her own power (if a little wobblily). ¡°Okay swords-noob, here¡¯s the plan, listen up. I¡¯m forming a new war-party¡­¡±


    She opened a messaging window and added combatant present.


    ¡°You¡¯re leading us? Thank fuck.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leading us, swords-noob. You are.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    The message was sent. I¡¯d been copied in, and horridly opened it.


    OFFER ¨C Alliance request from General Nyx.


    General Nyx has requested that all warriors present join a temporary war-party lead by user: Shade.


    Goal: Survival.


    Type of alliance: Temporary.


    Reward: Increased chance of survival. Possible favor with Clan Kronan if successful in protecting their investment.


    It was followed by another message, tailored specifically to me.


    OFFER ¨C Alliance request from General Nyx.


    General Nyx has requested that you lead a temporary war-party on her behalf.


    Goal: Survival.


    Type of alliance: Temporary.


    Reward: Increased chance of survival. Possible favor with Clan Kronan if successful in protecting their investment.


    Accept Y/N?


    ¡°I¡¯m not fit to lead,¡± I protested.


    ¡°Neither am I,¡± she spat back. ¡°I¡¯m barely clinging to consciousness as it is. And in case you¡¯ve forgotten, I tried to kill you. Whatever¡¯s infected me is influencing my behavior. If I took control it might spread-¡±


    ¡°But why me?¡± I cut in. ¡°Surely Kriabal-¡±


    ¡°We need a powerful fighter with the leadership required to pass a buff down to his troops. And gods help us, pathetic as it is, you¡¯re the closest thing we have to that.¡±


    ¡°I only have two points in leadership because I possess the Ring of the Rising Alpha. Surely if I was to lend it to the warlock-¡±


    ¡°Say he did pass his skills down using the leadership buff. What use is a mana generation boost to a bunch of braindead h¡¯orcs? They need your strength and resilience, not a bunch of magic-based stats that they can¡¯t bloody use.¡±


    ¡°Good point,¡± I reluctantly admitted.


    I suddenly received another message professing to be an update to the previous offer.


    Bonus reward: No retribution for items stolen from the corpses of the raid party.


    Accept Y/N?


    The thinly veiled threat quickly sold me on the whole ¡®leader¡¯ thing. I hurriedly clicked ¡®yes¡¯ and was immediately hit by a flood of pending messages that had been reliant upon my answer.


    -[ Your offer has been accepted by Kriabal (Warlock, level 6). ]-


    -[ Your offer has been accepted by HarryPothead (Wizard¡¯s apprentice, level 2). ]-


    Still alive, then.


    -[ Your offer has been accepted by Trok (Half-orc, level 2). ]-


    -[ Your offer has been accepted by Kraitos (Half-orc, level 4). ]-


    Level 4. Holy crap! He must have been seriously grinding his XP while hacking away at that boss. Good on him.


    -[ Your offer has been accepted by Grimmie (Half-orc, level 3). ]-


    -[ Your offer has been accepted by General Nyx (Amazon, level 8). ]-


    What?


    I looked at her, stunned.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be following your orders if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking, noob. I just need access to the war-party¡¯s status screen to see what we have to work with. Someone needs to come up with some bloody tactics, even if they aren¡¯t technically the leader. Now go make yourself useful, leave me to study this.¡±


    I turned to the bulk of my allies. Kraitos, Tiny and the two remaining NPCs were now on the backfoot, attempting to join us while parrying the strikes of the remaining tentacles. Then I returned my gaze to Kriabal, who was still fusing his own battered assailant to the floor with wave after wave of ice. He looked exhausted. Still, he seemed to have things well in hand, so I took the risk of ordering the half-orcs from his side to mine. I handed Trok a mana potion, which was met with a ¡®what the fuck am I supposed to do with this?¡¯ glare.


    ¡°Get it to Kriabal, it should keep him from emptying his reserve. Once you¡¯ve delivered the potion, go retrieve the Blade of Swiftness. I tossed it a few meters from where the raid party fell, so it should have avoided being respawned.¡±


    ¡°You know that my kind has a penalty when usin¡¯ swords, right?¡±


    ¡°I understand that. Once you¡¯ve retrieved it, bring it directly to me.¡±


    Trok nodded and went on his way, like a fantasy-themed courier service.


    Next, I scanned the crowd at the back of the room. Locking onto the fleet-footed swordswoman who¡¯d both saved me earlier, I messaged her the sword in question¡¯s stats: a shameless bribe to coax her to abandon Tiny and join my party, instead. She¡¯d impressed me during our skirmish with the hybrid soldiers, and I could seriously use another sword-wielder in my ranks. (It wasn¡¯t that I could wield both blades at once, after all¡­ not at my level, anyway.) Offer sent, I turned to my new minion, Grimmie. At level 3 he was easily the stronger of the two half-orcs. That made him the obvious choice for a more dangerous delivery: getting a mana potion to Tiny. Upon receiving his orders, the half-orc looked to the retreating tank and his ugly face sank: he knew fine well that he¡¯d drawn the shorter straw. But to his credit, he obliged me without complaint.


    Yep, I could really get used to this ¡®leadership¡¯ thing.


    In acknowledgment of my first true flourishes of leadership, a status message announced that the useful stat had finally generated its first base point, bringing my ring-enhanced total up to 3. A subsequent message confirmed that this would further boost the skills-buff received by every member of my party.


    Result.


    So just when things seemed to be going reasonably well, a cry rang out from behind me. The missing hybrid had finally resurfaced, and it was laying into Kriabal and Trok with little regard for its own survival.


    Where the hell did that bastard come from? Does he have a cloak of invisibility or something?


    ¡°Crap!¡± I declared, turning to General Nyx (who was still engrossed in our war-party¡¯s stats.) ¡°I have to go and help them. Will you be okay?¡±


    ¡°The hell you do,¡± she spat back. ¡°I¡¯ve just read your full stat sheet. Get up front and take the pressure off our two flagging tanks.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°Your strength to speed ratio is better than anyone else out there. And that muscle allows you to carry a barbarian-class sword without being overburdened, most swords-noobs would need both hands to even attempt to wield that thing. Also, your higher strength and resilience means you have a naturally higher HP than the other new spawns. Like it or not, you¡¯re a tank.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t abandon Kriabal-¡±


    ¡°Fuck Kriabal!¡± she spat, cutting me off and confirming who the real leader was. ¡°He¡¯s just a damn warlock, and if he can¡¯t put down that hybrid, he deserves to die. Now take my armor and go help the others retreat.¡±


    Okay, I¡¯ll admit it. I blushed.


    ¡°What the hell¡¯s with that look on your face?¡± she snapped.


    ¡°Um, well¡­ it¡¯s not that the invite to get you out of your armour isn''t a welcome one, but I ah¡­ don''t think it¡¯s my size. I¡¯m pretty open-minded, but cross-dressing isn¡¯t really my thing¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll adapt to your avatar, you fucking idiot. Gods, you really are a noob.¡±


    Ah.


    Without a hint of shame, she removed her armor. I did my damnedest not to stare at her impressive avatar like the pervert I am.


    -[ You have been gifted a heroic-level breastplate. Item class: rare. Defense +6. Durability 188/200. ]-


    -[ You have been gifted a set of heroic-level leg plates. Item class: rare. Defense +6. Durability 160/200. ]-


    -[ Set bonus: Defense +2. ]-


    Heroic level? Wow, not too shabby. That¡¯s a +10 boost to my defense stat.


    Eyes still closed (because I¡¯m a gentleman, dammit. And yes, a criminally violent gentleman with an epic-class weapon and the mana to back it up¡­ but in a situation like this, surely that¡¯s the best kind, right?) I slipped the item onto my own torso. I opened my eyes and looked down. To my relief, I wasn¡¯t wearing an armor-plated bikini with chainmail floss up my ass-crack. It had molded to my torso, just like the amazon said it would. Meanwhile, her own modesty was now covered by a skimpy set of leather underwear.


    Blimey, even her undies have a better defense than the outfit I arrived in. This lady is tough.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be wanting that back, obviously,¡± she stated. ¡°But for now, you¡¯re going to need it. You¡¯re finally starting to look like a real tank, albeit a twinked-up version.¡± She reached into her inventory, removing a glass vial. ¡°Take this potion. It¡¯s the last item I have, but it¡¯s no good to me if I can barely fucking stand.¡±


    -[ You have been gifted a fury potion. Bestows speed +1 and strength +1. Duration five minutes. Durability: 6/8 ]-


    ¡°I burned through all of my other items fighting that bastard earlier,¡± she continued. ¡°Even broke my fucking sword.¡±


    She gestured to ¡®that bastard.¡¯ It was slowly following a retreating Kraitos, Tiny, Grimmie and the guards, raining down blows on the two tanks with its remaining tentacles.


    ¡°Hang on,¡± I gasped, ¡°you mean you don¡¯t even have a weapon? I have to get you to safety-¡±


    ¡°Fuck that. Get your shapely ass over there and help the tank¡¯///..%7*¡­


    With that, the amazon¡¯s words turned to a stream of glitching code, and she fell unconscious to the floor.


    Shit! Not again.


    Kribal and Trok were still battling the remaining hybrid, which meant that I was torn between a battle on two fronts and an unconscious sexy general in need of a rescue. Worse, I was supposed to be leading these poor bastards. As if I didn¡¯t have enough to focus on, a glowing dwarf suddenly materialized in the space beside me.


    ¡°What the fuck? Samusk? How the hell did you manage to respawn here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m bound to yeh now, Einstein,¡± he replied, looking like a badly dubbed movie as the system attempted to sync his freshly built body to his consciousness. ¡°What did yeh expect?¡±


    ¡°This is perfect. When you¡¯re fully synced can you get this woman to safety?¡± I pointed to the bloodied amazon. ¡°See if you can get HarryPothead to heal her. The coward¡¯s hiding around here somewhere.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not draggin¡¯ that half-dead bitch around,¡± huffed the dwarf. ¡°Look at that muscle mass. She must weigh a bloody ton.¡±


    ¡°That ¡®bitch¡¯ is General Nyx,¡± I added. ¡°You know, the amazon we¡¯re trying to impress?¡±


    The dwarf mysteriously gained the strength necessary for the task and promised to drag Nyx to safety the moment his respawn completed.


    Great, that¡¯s one problem sorted. Now there¡¯s just the small matter of my troops.


    Kriabal and Trok were still holding their own against the badly injured hybrid and the frozen limb of the boss was powerless to interfere. Satisfied that they probably could hold their own I ran to assist the souls retreating from the front line. But to my surprise, I wasn¡¯t the only one charging in the boss¡¯s direction. Tiny had broken ranks from the retreat, and he was headed directly for the land shark. For a moment I thought he was suicidal, but then his powerful axe began to glow.


    Ah. Grimmie delivered my mana potion, then.


    Tiny hoisted the Axe of Tallos overhead. It began to blaze like the sun, delivering a devastating gash to the beast¡¯s side as he brought it down hard on his enemy. The mob to howled in pain, but Tiny wasn¡¯t done. The strike was followed by a second burning flash of mana, a powerful blow that severed one of the beasts remaining tentacles completely.


    Wow. Credit where it¡¯s due, that tough son of a bitch doesn¡¯t back down. Hang on. Why the hell is he running away?


    ¡°Enraged buff,¡± cried a voice from behind me. It was Kriabal.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Every time the bastard¡¯s HP reaches a trigger point, it gains a full minute of orrffff-¡±


    The sentence was cut brutally short as the warlock was swatted to the floor by the tentacle I¡¯d considered to be neutralized. It was now frantically lashing in all directions.


    I¡¯m going to assume that an enraged buff is the mob equivalent of a fury buff.


    The thing¡¯s strength was definitely enhanced: even the block of ice was being hefted around with ease. What was once its unwanted burden was now a bludgeoning weapon, and to make matters worse, it was still tipped with that deadly bone spike.


    ¡°Sever the bastard,¡± cried Trok, glaring in my direction as the bone-tipped bludgeon sailed over his bald grey head, almost decapitating him in the process.


    ¡°Oh yeah, sure. Because it¡¯s that easy,¡± I moaned, raising my blade and rushing to meet it.


    Just as it reached me I ducked, just as Trok had. I spun and righted myself, only to see that it was already doing the same. But its momentum was spent, and the next strike was easily parried to the floor. I pressed the attack and my sword connected, shattering the bone that had sought to puncture my avatar. The second heft of my blade landed just below the block of ice, severing the end of the limb completely.


    -[ Level up! You are now a level 3 swordsman. XP remaining until next level is unlocked: 80. Max HP +30. Max MP +50. Mana gain +50. ]-


    -[ As a result of your recent ..of your primary skill, the resilience cap has been raised to 7. ¡®Scrappy dude¡¯ bonus has now been added. XP until next resilience level: 80. ]-


    Well, bang goes my perception cheat for a while, I thought to myself. But this is a time for sword-skills, not study, so I¡¯m sure as hell not complaining.


    I allowed myself a cringy whoop of ¡°yeah, who¡¯s the man?¡± No one answered, but I didn¡¯t care. The neutered tendril was finally retreating, so I knew the answer. I pushed the welcome mana boost into my sword to replace what I¡¯d spent and charged to meet my next victim: the hybrid.


    ¡°Incoming,¡± cried Kriabal, his face a picture of fear.


    ¡°Don¡¯t warn him,¡± I protested, bringing my sword down hard on the mutated barbarian¡¯s back. ¡°I¡¯m trying to save you.¡±


    ¡°Not you, you fucking idiot,¡± he cried, driving his staff through the fallen hybrid¡¯s head for the killing blow, before pointing it to the area behind me. ¡°The bloody boss.¡±


    Oh crap.


    I turned from the dying hybrid to see my worst nightmare confirmed. The hulking land shark was powering toward us, its tiny hind legs driving it forward with a speed I¡¯d thought impossible. It had lost all interest in Tiny and the others and was coming directly for me. That was when I learned a very important lesson about fighting mobs. Never draw the ire of a boss monster when it¡¯s off its face on adrenalin.


    Shit! I guess it¡¯s time to test out that new armor, then.

 Chapter 15.4

    The XP from the hybrid¡¯s death was welcome, but further analysis of my gains would have to wait. I muted the rambling status bot as it rhymed them off giving what was headed toward me required my undivided attention. Petrified, I watched in disbelief as an NPC guard moved to block the raging beast¡¯s path. He was instantly crushed.


    Holy crap! It ploughed straight over him to get to me. I am in so much shit right now.


    If I was to have any chance of dodging this big ugly freight train, it was obvious that I needed every speed buff that I could muster. I hastily swopped my arcane sword for the Blade of Swiftness, then selected the fury potion Nyx had gifted me. Even if I got clear of the charging mob in time, chances were that it would sweep me up in its remaining tentacles anyway. But my only alternative plan involved being ground to swords-noob soup underneath a runaway boss, so I figured that it was probably worth a shot.


    Perhaps if I use both items at the last moment, I can leap aside before it has a chance to alter its course, I pondered.


    Thanks to my new status as the mobs most hated, everyone around me was suddenly making a break for it. Given the circumstances, I didn¡¯t blame them. So, the last thing I expected was for someone to join me. Yet join me they did. A hand grasped my shoulder, pulling me to face the steely yet determined gaze of its disheveled owner. It was Medusa, the surgeon-like swordswoman from the rabble, the one who¡¯d sliced through my hybrid opponent¡¯s tendons, and possibly saved my life in the process. Staring at me through unkempt black hair that almost masked her face entirely, she opened her mouth to speak.


    ¡°That sword you offered me... give it over,¡± she demanded. ¡°Before it¡¯s too late.¡±


    Before it¡¯s flattened into scrap along with its current owner, you mean?


    ¡°Why should I give up my only chance of evading that thing?¡± I protested, returning my gaze to my rapidly approaching death. ¡°You didn¡¯t accept my offer to join the war-party. Hell, you ignored it.¡±


    ¡°Only because that shit-for-brains barbarian would gut me if I dared switch sides. But that doesn¡¯t mean that I don¡¯t want to help. I have a plan. But for it to work, I¡¯ll be needing that sword.¡±


    The obvious question was ¡®what plan¡¯, but the charging mob was almost upon us.


    Can I trust her? She¡¯s from the Brotherhood, and that hardly speaks for her character. But she¡¯s betraying Tiny¡¯s orders just by entering the battlefield. And she has saved me once already. Would she have put herself in so much danger if she didn¡¯t truly want to help? Arrrrgh, there¡¯s no time to think.


    My instincts told me to trust her, so I trusted them, gifting her the Blade of Swiftness. And yeah, potentially dooming myself in the process. The fact that I¡¯d somehow gone from begging warlocks for crappy second-hand swords to gifting epic-class weapons to people I barely knew was not lost on me.


    The land shark was now meters away and closing. With no idea what this supposed plan was, I returned my attention to my backup buff, uncorking the fury potion I¡¯d been gifted by General Nyx. I was about to put it to my lips when Medusa¡¯s hand shot out and stayed my own. Apparently, she had other ideas. Using the blade¡¯s speed buff to enhance her movements she plucked the vial from my grasp, downing the contents before I could open my mouth to protest. As she tossed the empty bottle over her shoulder, all I could think was crap, I¡¯ve been double-crossed. I am so screwed. But the next thing that happened surprised me even more: the crazy glitch charged our rampaging opponent.


    ¡°What the fuck¡¯s she playing at?¡± I cried, aghast. ¡°That¡¯s got to be the most lopsided game of chicken ever.¡±


    I watched as, with collision imminent, Medusa banked sharply to the right, trailing the powerful weapon along the creature¡¯s flank as she passed it by. The blade cut deep, driven deeper again by the beast¡¯s own momentum and the unmistakable glint of burning mana. The land shark howled in pain, grinding to a halt as its many eyes fixed on its attacker. Its aggro now successfully switched, the boss awkwardly turned its hulking mass to face her, instead.


    ¡°She¡¯s drawing its ire from you,¡± cried an equally surprised Kriabal, adding: ¡°Brave girl.¡±


    ¡°Dead girl, more like,¡± added Trok, grabbing my arm and pulling me with him in an awkward retreat to the warlock¡¯s side.


    ¡°No,¡± I protested. ¡°She¡¯s under the influence of two speed buffs, and she was pretty damned fast to begin with. If anyone can outrun that ugly fuck until its enraged buff wears off, it¡¯s her.¡±


    Kriabal nodded. I ignored Tiny¡¯s icy glares and ordered Trok to assist Samusk in carrying General Nyx to safety. Then I pointed my sword to the back of the chamber and ordered the entirety of our troops to retreat. There were few complaints: stamina was low, and morale was dropping as quickly as our numbers. So moments later, we were standing among the panicked zeros and their cowardly associates.


    Our war-party¡¯s chance to relish in the moment¡¯s reprieve was short-lived, as we were immediately swarmed by a sea of weakling prisoners. Every one of them was begging for the privilege of our protection. Some offered their paltry coin, others claimed to have rare and powerful items that could be ours if we shielded them from harm. Some even offered their flesh, the only thing they had left with which to barter. As I closed down quest-window after quest-window, I noted that every offer had one thing in common: everyone assembled was determined to convince me to rejoin the fight on their behalf.


    ¡°Everyone calm down,¡± I announced, now shouting to make myself heard over the uproar of competing voices. ¡°We haven¡¯t given up, not by a long shot. We just need a chance to regroup and recharge our stamina, is all.¡±


    Alas, the throng did not calm down upon request. In fact, the opportunity to study our meager forces up-close only seemed to fuel their concerns, especially among the more vocal of the frightened masses assembled. Numerous comments were made by armchair generals, many of them about my fitness to lead. I ignored their criticisms, giving thanks that my ¡®troops¡¯ didn¡¯t appear to feel the same way. Granted, they were a pack of worried noobs who would probably follow anyone who looked like they knew what end of a sword they should be holding... so the fact that I apparently looked like I knew what I was doing was a testament to my bullshitting skills, if nothing else. Their alliance to me certainly didn¡¯t say much for their belief in the more experienced Tiny.


    ¡°Why are the zeros so riled up anyway?¡± hissed Trok in my ear. ¡°They have no levels to lose. They¡¯ll just respawn.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re worried for the exact same reason that I¡¯m pissed with our ¡®glorious¡¯ leader,¡± snarked Samusk, laying an unconscious NYX against the wall of the chamber. And yes, he used air quotes as he said the word ¡®glorious¡¯. Because he¡¯s a dick.


    ¡°They may not have levels to lose, but they can still lose base points,¡± I clarified, satisfied that I was the one dispensing the answers for a change. As I spoke, the explanation caused something important to dawn on me.


    Shit! What did Samusk lose when I used him as bait, then? Not perception, I hope.


    It was a question for another time, and not just because of the land shark. An argument had erupted between my fellow ¡®general¡¯ and his rabble. It had gone from ¡®heated¡¯ to ¡®raging inferno¡¯ the moment the gun mage drew his weapon and pointed it at the forehead of the bull-headed barbarian. Tiny was cussing the spell-slinger out, daring him to try it. The elderly witch stood firm by his side, wooden staff raised and bristling with a weak charge of mana, ready to back up her fellow magic user if required. And the reason for the argument? Both were demanding their opportunity to fight.


    ¡°Look at Medusa,¡± the gunman bellowed, turning his gaze to the brave swords-woman as she worked to draw the boss as far from our position as possible. ¡°She¡¯s making a difference and grinding her skills in the process.¡±


    ¡°Pack of ungrateful fucks,¡± spat Tiny in response. ¡°I was jus¡¯ tryin¡¯ ta stop ya gettin¡¯ yerselves killed.¡± He turned to Gary, then added: ¡°We have enough dead weight in this gang already, wivout you lot losin¡¯ a level. Don¡¯t yeh understand? When I kill that thing y¡¯all get to reap th¡¯ rewards-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want yer hand me down XP,¡± rebuked the witch. ¡°I wanna stand on me own two feet an¡¯ fight.¡±


    Tiny grunted, then began to smile. It was that same sadistic grin that I¡¯d become all too used to, back in the canteen. You know, when he was kicking my head in.


    Awww, fuck no, now he¡¯s reaching for his axe. We don¡¯t have time for this macho bullshit.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re a leader?¡± I bellowed, putting myself between the general and his nervous troops. ¡°Then fucking act like one. Your soldiers want to fight, not hang onto your armored apron strings like a bunch of cowardly children. Fuck me, is it any wonder that everyone thinks the Brotherhood are a pack of pussies.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if everyone did think that or not, but I reckoned that it couldn¡¯t hurt to suggest it. Tiny looked genuinely taken aback. He turned to address one of his less vocal minions.


    ¡°Oi, new guy. Yeah, you wiv th¡¯ shit hair. Feel the same way, do ya?¡±


    ¡°N-nah boss,¡± stammered Skullfucker, somewhat predictably. ¡°I¡¯m fine with ah¡­ guardin¡¯ the entrance.¡± The response caused Tiny to grind his teeth. His fellow barbarian had only served to reinforce the Brotherhood¡¯s cowardly image.


    ¡°Hrrrmp. What about you, Pandora?¡±


    A timid looking level 1 swordswoman looked up at the mention of her name. She was about five-foot tall, with blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was pretty, in that prisoner-next-door sort of way. She also looked like a nervous wreck, doubtlessly unaccustomed to the harsh violent world she¡¯d recently been plunged into. But fair play to her, she didn¡¯t let that influence her decision.


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t know the first thing about fighting monsters,¡± she began, ¡°but if Medusa is out there putting her neck on the line, then I¡¯m going too.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s putting more than her neck on the line,¡± piped up Kriabal, pointing his staff to the distant warrior. ¡°Look what the crazy bitch is up to now.¡±


    I turned just in time to witness the swordswoman cutting yet another huge gash into the creature¡¯s side, taking advantage of its clumsy attempts to maneuver as she literally ran rings around it. The land shark¡¯s HP was now just over 600.


    ¡°Fine,¡± declared Tiny, throwing up his arms in mock surrender. ¡°Your choice. Jus¡¯ don¡¯t be expectin¡¯ this gang t¡¯turn inta one o¡¯ them damn democracies.¡±


    Still smarting from the open challenge of his orders (and no doubt frustrated that our circumstances were not well suited to killing those responsible) the barbarian proceeded to call a ¡®private meeting¡¯, retreating to a quieter corner of the chamber. As he passed me by, the gun mage gave me a friendly pat on the back. As did the witch (once she was done making an offensive gesture behind her leader¡¯s back, that is). The nervous swordswoman mouthed the words ¡®thank you¡¯, then followed. And with those gestures of warmth came a very unexpected dividend¡­


    -[ Congratulations: To make a friend of a similar ilk is all but inevitable. But to earn the respect of an enemy¡¯s troops is unprecedented. Rep +1. ]-


    -[ Likeability and the ability to persuade others are talents that should not be underestimated. You have developed a new skill: charisma, level 1. XP required until level 2, 98.


    Yes! At fucking last.


    I called up my stat sheet and there it was, my first true base point in the precious attribute. And unlike the buff that was lost to me when Grom prematurely joined the cloud invisible, this charisma point was all mine. I felt like doing a celebratory dance but immediately stopped myself. If those I¡¯d won over saw my lowsy attempt at dancing, I¡¯d probably lose their respect again.


    ¡°We still need the independents,¡± declared Kriabal, drawing me from my thoughts. He was pointing into the crowd, pinpointing the five warriors who¡¯d fled the scene the very moment the shit had hit the fan. Every one of them looked nervous.


    ¡°I¡¯ll motivate ¡®em to fight,¡± announced Tiny, his head popping up from the nearby scrum.


    ¡°Is that your fucking answer to everything?¡± I gasped. ¡°They¡¯re all scared for a reason. And if they¡¯re anything like me, they probably just need someone to stop and take a minute to explain how things fucking work around here-¡±


    My train of thought was interrupted by another unexpected status message. It proclaimed that my health was rising. And that could only mean one thing: the AWOL apprentice was close. I had no issue with him topping up my HP, hell, up against a boss such a boost was a godsend. But as the only healer in the chamber, I needed him at our side, not hiding at the back of the room where his noobish power-levels couldn¡¯t hope to reach us. I turned and whispered to Kraitos, who confirmed that he too had experienced such an HP boost. I quietly asked the half-orc to track down our wand-waving ally, then continued my address to the crowd.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Listen up. I know that death isn¡¯t the incentive to fight that it should be, any more. And yes, I know it must seem that you gain nothing from helping Clan Kronan keep control of this chamber-¡±


    ¡°They get to keep their damn jobs,¡± slurred a barely conscious Nyx. Unsurprisingly, Samusk was still hovering at her side. Probably pestering her for membership of Clan Kronan, while she was too weak to swat him aside. Surely his ass-kissing skill has reached its cap by now, I pondered. I shooed the dwarf, kneeling down to address the weary amazon.


    ¡°You think that job satisfaction is high around here with things like that creeping out of the woodwork?¡± I declared, pointing to the distant boss, then to the corpse of the shadow stallion. ¡°You speak for Clan Kronan. You can offer real rewards. Give these people a real incentive to fight for, dammit.¡±


    Like membership of the clan, for example¡­


    The Amazon glared at me, her face like thunder. She didn¡¯t like being spoken to like this. Certainly not by a noob, and not in front of a pack of worthless zeros. Samusk looked like he was about to have a canary. But for now, getting her to motivate our AWOL troops was more important to me than kissing her shapely ass. Besides, I could tell that she secretly agreed with me. That, or she didn¡¯t have the strength to argue.


    Hang on, maybe it¡¯s neither. Is she fucking unconscious again? With her eyes open? Come on, that¡¯s just fucking creepy.


    ¡°She¡¯s bloody crashed,¡± declared a stunned-looking Samusk, prodding the amazon¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡±


    The look on Samusk¡¯s face very much suggested that he wasn¡¯t. Great. I¡¯d just lost our most experienced strategist. That was all I fucking needed. And to make matters worse, the entire conversation had taken place in front of the very fighters I¡¯d been hoping to bribe. If I started offering rewards on General Nyx¡¯s behalf now, it would obviously be bullshit.


    Think, Shade. There has to be something you can offer them.


    I thought of something. It wasn¡¯t much, but they were a pack of noobs, so I reckoned it was worth a shot.


    ¡°Listen up, troops. I understand this is new to you. None of you have been on the front line before. But I have. So I know from experience that if we hold this chamber, every member of our war-party will receive a boost to their XP based on their contribution to slaying the bastard, even if they don¡¯t make it to the end.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit, you just want fodder for another charge,¡± came a voice from the crowd.


    ¡°We need greater numbers to stand a chance, I¡¯ll admit that. And I can¡¯t guarantee that you¡¯re going to make it out of this without dropping a level. What I can guarantee is, it¡¯ll be much easier to earn that level back if you bank some boss fighting XP in the meantime. Opportunities to power-level like this don¡¯t come along often.¡±


    The response was underwhelming, to say the least.


    ¡°Listen to the man,¡± declared Kraitos. ¡°I can vouch for his words. I shot up by one whole level when I killed one of those bastard hybrids. I also gained a rep point and received a shitload of XP for my efforts, too. From this point on, no matter what happens to me in this chamber, I¡¯ll respawn stronger than when I entered it.¡± He turned his focus to two warriors in particular: a barbarian and a swordsman. ¡°Brawn. CutThroatKeith. I¡¯ve worked alongside you both. And I¡¯ve heard the pair of you bitch enough to know that you¡¯re both tired of being lackeys.¡± The half-orc turned to the other three independents, drawing them into his address. ¡°Aren¡¯t you tired of being builders, laborers and butchers, while the barbarians take all of the opportunities. We¡¯re only asking you to make your own damn opportunity. I had the balls to do so, and now I have the monster hunter trait to show for it.¡±


    Quite a few of the ears perked up at this. My own included.


    ¡°It¡¯s true. I earned the trait by killing the hybrid. That means I¡¯m now free to enter mob-infested territory, without a damn chaperon from Clan Kronan.¡±


    Holy crap, is that how it works? I just have to kill a mob to get access to the front line? I really need to hurry up and land my first kill. But one thing at a time¡­


    ¡°This is your best opportunity to get strong enough to survive,¡± I declared, walking up to Kraitos and placing a hand on his huge hard shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m asking you to endure this hardship today for a much more comfortable tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Tell them about the stat increase,¡± hissed Kriabal.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The buff we receive from your leadership stat. They¡¯re noobs, they don¡¯t know about this stuff.¡±


    I hurriedly explained the benefits of pledging themselves to me, but was interrupted as a sweating swordswoman as she arrived by my side. She sucked air a few times, then addressed me directly, ignoring her leader.


    ¡°The bastard¡¯s buff has finally worn off,¡± she announced, proudly. ¡°I *huff* drew it as far up the chamber as possible. We¡¯ve got at least five minutes before reaches us at regular speed.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate what you did for me out there, Medusa. Thank-you.¡±


    The swordswoman held up her new blade. She was looking at it in the way I secretly wished women would look at me.


    ¡°And I appreciate the sword, mate,¡± she replied, beaming. ¡°Epic class. That¡¯s unreal. Never imagined I¡¯d get my hands on something like this so soon, if ever. I even leveled up my own stamina and agility, thanks to the workout that things limbs were giving me.¡±


    As I nodded and smiled, I noticed that Tiny was glaring at us. And I knew exactly why. His minion had defied him for my benefit, in front of all assembled, no less. I prayed that it wouldn¡¯t cost her later. He wasn¡¯t the only witness to our conversation, though: Medusa¡¯s timely testimony of the gains to be had sealed the deal for three of the five neutral warriors. They all messaged me simultaneously, each with a request to join our war-party. Each one was hastily accepted.


    -[ You have accepted an offer from TheGreatestSwordsman (Swordsman, level 1). ]-


    -[ You have accepted an offer from CutThroatKeith (Swordsman, level 2). ]-


    -[ You have accepted an offer from Brawn (Barbarian, level 2). ]-


    Three out of five, not bad. My noob army was finally growing again. To my surprise, three zeros also pledged their support: two peasant humans and one peasant orc. Given Samusk¡¯s potential usefulness, I knew it would be foolish to overlook them simply because they lacked combat stats, so I welcomed all six into our war-party. I was about to have a quick look at their stats when something suddenly dawned on me.


    ¡°Hey, Tiny. There¡¯re still two independant warriors hiding in that crowd. Feel free to use whatever method you need to to ¡®convince¡¯ them to join our cause.¡±


    Tiny cracked his knuckles and began to push his way into the crowd. As I turned away from the inevitable brutality, I realized we were missing one of our allies.


    ¡°Hang on, where the hell has the NPC got to?¡±


    ¡°Dumb bastard¡¯s trying to fight the boss alone,¡± replied Trok, pointing a thick grey digit to the opposite end of the chamber.


    The guard had indeed re-engaged the land shark. The outcome was all but inevitable.


    ¡°Shit! Why would he even attempt that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The guards ain¡¯t programmed to expect anything more powerful than a rampaging barbarian or a powerful wizard,¡± replied Kriabal. ¡°I reckon when he saw Medusa fighting it alone,


    The guard lacked the swordswoman¡¯s speed buffs and was quickly ensnared in the beast¡¯s neutered tentacle. The land shark hoisted him into the air, its huge toothy mouth opening wide like a parting steel trap. And we watched in horror as and as the animalistic boss bit down on the last of our NPC contingent, reducing our numbers by one more precious combatant.


    ¡°Artificial ¡®intelligence¡¯ my ass,¡± grumbled Kriabal, shaking his head.


    ¡°If nothing else, he taught us that the shortened tentacle is still a threat, even without the spiked tip¡± I added, solemnly. We now had a new tactic to watch out for. One that could finish us off almost as quickly as a bone-shard to the head. ¡°Dammit, that¡¯s three limbs to watch out for. With our numbers so low, how are we supposed to-¡±


    I stopped mid-sentence. An idea was slowly forming.


    ¡°Boss?¡±


    ¡°I have a plan,¡± I announced, gesturing toward my hairy slave. ¡°Obviously, the bone-tipped limbs are our top priority. So with that in mind, we¡¯re going to use Samusk to test the tentacles range.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re doing what?¡± spluttered the dwarf. I ignored his concerns and continued to address Kriabal.


    ¡°That tactic you used, when you burdened the creature¡¯s limbs with blocks of ice. If you knew the tendrils were coming, could you cast it on two targets at once before it withdraws?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d probably have to freeze the bait too,¡± replied the warlock, studying my dwarven associate. ¡°But if he¡¯s gonna be shish kabab anyway, that might actually work in my favor. If I freeze the corpse to the tentacle, it can only help to increase the beast¡¯s load.


    ¡°Now hold on one bloody minute-¡± began the dwarf in protest. I casually ordered him to shut up for a moment. Sometimes the slaveowner trait was a godsend.


    ¡°Do you have enough mana to get the job done?¡± I asked, reaching into my inventory and offering the warlock one of my remaining potions. He pushed my hand aside with the tip of his staff, declining my offering.


    ¡°Save that fer when it¡¯s needed, fella. I have nine points in mana generation, an¡¯ I¡¯ve been chargin¡¯ me staff since the moment we began to retreat. I¡¯ll get the job done.¡±


    I thanked him, suggesting that before we head back into battle, he go back to reallocating our party¡¯s items into the most suitable sets of hands. He nodded and got to work. Then I returned my attention to my assembled army.


    ¡°Listen up everyone, here¡¯s the plan. We¡¯re going to pin down the two bone-tipped tentacles. If we succeed, you¡¯ll have two stationary targets to attack, without having to risk getting close to the land shark¡¯s torso. We¡¯ll trap the bastard, but until then, hold position. The moment I give the order, charge and give the enemy with everything you¡¯ve got.¡±


    The order was met with nods of agreement. Now came the tricky part.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it hasn¡¯t escaped your attention, but we have two spiked tentacles to pin down and only one decoy¡­¡±


    The sea of nodding heads suddenly became very interested in their feet, their weapons, and their neighbors avatars, each one desperate not to make eye contact with me. I had only begun my plea for a volunteer when Tiny returned. His rabble had gained another member, a bruised looking level 1 swordsman. The new recruit to our cause was looking much healthier than his fellow holdout, who was now little more than a beaten bloody mess lying nearby. The rabble¡¯s leader didn¡¯t hesitate to order Gary into the role of bait. The scrawny half-orc looked understandably petrified at the prospect.


    ¡°I-I can¡¯t afford to losssse another bassssse point,¡± begged the pathetic prisoner, falling to his master¡¯s knees. ¡°N-not after last night¡¯ssss rather ruckussss ah, election debate.¡±


    And that explains how Tiny rose to power, then.


    ¡°Yeh¡¯ll earn yer keep or take yer chances as an independent,¡± replied the barbarian, coldly. The weakness being exhibited by some of his troops had to be killing him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± announced a human peasant, stepping forward from the crowd.


    As quickly as he had appeared, Gary had scurried away. The stranger was one of the zeros who¡¯d pledged to join my war-party, a human by the name of Tarrack. Without my perception buff, a glance at his avatar revealed very little. But I didn¡¯t need to poen the war-party menu to see his level. He was a blond-haired, unshaven thirty-something, and like most of the zeros he was dressed in paltry rags.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired of everyone thinking I¡¯m only good for haulage because I don¡¯t have a damn combat stat,¡± he declared, now standing nose-to-nose with me. ¡°I was once a level 27 rogue-¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± coughed SkullFucker, earning him a dirty look from the stranger.


    ¡°Believe me or not, I don¡¯t particularly care what you think, barbarian. Not after witnessing you run from that hellhound with a trail of piss trickling behind you.¡± He returned his focus to me and his expression immediately softened, until the point that his determined eyes were now almost pleading. ¡°My life, if you can call it a life, is little more than a spectator sport, these days. I¡¯m tired of simply existing. Let me be useful again. I promise I¡¯ll do whatever you need of me if it helps to bring this mob bastard down.¡±


    And he didn¡¯t even ask for a reward. I have to admit, I¡¯m impressed.


    ¡°Thank you for volunteering,¡± I replied, placing a hand on my new comrade¡¯s shoulder. Then I turned to the other zeros who¡¯d joined our party. ¡°I won¡¯t order you to put yourselves into danger, not without a way to defend yourselves. But I need you to look after General Nyx. If she-¡±


    ¡°Like hell you¡¯re leaving me back here with the damned zeros,¡± spat the amazon, cutting me off mid-sentence.


    ¡°What were you expecting?¡± I retorted. ¡°You fucking crashed. And barely a few minutes before that, you were lying there mumbling to yourself in machine code.¡±


    ¡°You need my experience-.¡±


    ¡°I have the Kriabal-¡±


    ¡°The warlock only knows how to brainwash things or blow them up,¡± she retorted. ¡°He¡¯s a fucking mana cannon who needs to be pointed at things. Nothing more.¡±


    ¡°None taken,¡± chortled Kriabal, rolling his eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re in no condition to join us,¡± I protested, sticking to my guns. ¡°You¡¯re almost as white as a sheet.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re taking a pair of zeros¡¯ into battle, then there¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯ll be left sitting on the sidelines.¡±


    I let out a sigh as I read the expression on Samusk¡¯s face. It was followed by a private message, begging me to give the amazon what she demanded, if only to stay on her good side. But he had a point: in the bigger picture, we needed her. On the flip-side, she was just as liable to crash midway through a sentence as she was to whisper words of support and guidance into my ear. But I relented, ordering my remaining zeros to support her at each side, but giving them strict instructions to keep the weary warrior away from danger. Like Tarrak, the duo seemed glad to finally be of use, hurring to hoist her up and support her weight.


    When I heard Nyx cry out I immediately feared the worst.


    Shit, have they hoisted her up, or have they felt her up. If one of my followers has gone for an inappropriate choice of handhold, that could reflect very badly on me. Perhaps giving two sex-starved prisoners permission to put their hands on her shapely avatar wasn¡¯t my best idea. Oh well, more fool them if they have. Even in her dazed state, Nyx can more than handle herself. My head¡¯s recent acquaintance with the granite floor is proof enough of that.


    To my relief, wandering hands were not the problem. Well, not in the way I¡¯d first imagined, at least. Nyx had finally noticed that my own wandering hands had passed her epic-level sword to Medusa, and she was not a happy amazon. I did my best to tune the argument out, giving thanks when Kraitos leaned in to demand my attention. The half-orc whispered something useful in my ear, and I thanked him for the information, returning my attention to the watching crowd.


    ¡°It¡¯s time for us to move. But one last thing before we head back into battle¡­¡±


    With those words I charged into the startled crowd and plucked the incognito apprentice from their midst, dragging the startled prisoner behind me out by his beard. His hat had conspicuously gone missing, and he was standing in his underwear, not his garish robes of office. But the name hovering above his head still betrayed him: HarryPothead. I tossed him to the floor and stood over the wretched wizard wannabe, leveling my blade to his throat.


    ¡°You will put on your robes, get on that battlefield, and you will support us. If you don¡¯t, I will personally find an interesting new place for you to store your wand. Spoiler alert, it won¡¯t be your fucking inventory.¡±


    The apprentice nervously nodded and scurried off to retrieve his outfit. Tiny, appreciating my attempts at intimidation, began to laugh out loud. Samusk on the other hand was not amused. The dwarf¡¯s ¡®moment¡¯ of silence had passed, and he was cussing me out again, this time threatening that if I went ahead with my plan, I was officially fired as his bodyguard. The extra coin was too good to forfeit, so I casually ordered him to give me a raise, instead: his entire monthly commissary payment. Furious, but knowing when to back down, he took his place at the head of our formation with the much more willing Tarrak.


    It frustrated me, having to use my ¡®employer¡¯ as bait once again. But admittedly, this was only because I knew that each death could be chipping away at the perception stat I¡¯d made it my priority to level up. A last-minute attempt to arrange a substitution brought no takers, alas. The former rogue had been an oddity, and there were no other volunteers for death-duty. As the only prisoner I could actually force to do my bidding (without further rep damage, anyway) it would have to be Samusk, after all.


    All the more reason to gather more slaves, I thought to myself, darkly. But this time, the urge to fight the thought seemed weaker than it had been before.


    With that slightly sinister standpoint still fresh in my mind, I summoned my troops to my side. Tiny mobilized his own fighters in turn. Then, like a group of dead men walking, I ordered my war-party to head out and meet the crippled boss for what I knew would be the final push. I just prayed that the ugly bastard didn¡¯t succeed in pushing back.

 Chapter 16.1

    Our two parties began to nervously creep toward the enemy, with Samusk and Tarrak positioned at our lead. Tiny and I were next, flanking the warlock, who followed closely behind. Everyone else followed a few feet behind us, strongest positioned at the front, weakest at the back. This arrangement was not by accident: Kriabal was crucial to the plan, and as the group¡¯s most resilient members, Tiny and I would have the best chance of deflecting the tendrils if the ugly bastard chose to ignore our ¡®peasant¡¯ bait and await a more substantial target.


    Nyx was not pleased with her role as a back-seat general but knew better than to argue the point. As a combatant who could barely hold herself upright let alone fight, she was lucky to be included in the advance at all. (If ¡®lucky¡¯ was really the right word.) Although I have to admit, I was glad to have her along. On the exterior, I was the brave commander, leading his noobish troops into battle. But inside, I was pissing my pixels. (Not literally, of course. Because I¡¯m you know, manly and shit.)


    Wordlessly, we continued our shuffle toward our inevitable gruesome deaths. The land shark (well-practiced in the limits of its own deadly reach) watched the mass of bodies approach, regarding us with too many eyes as we nervously advanced on its position. Thankfully, it seemed that I was giving Satan¡¯s turd too much credit when I suggested that Tiny and I guard the warlock. The moment our front line was within the beast¡¯s range, two bone-tipped tentacles lashed out with uncanny speed, simultaneously piercing Samusk and Tarrak¡¯s avatars in a sickening explosion of gore. They didn¡¯t even have time to scream.


    ¡°Now Kriabal,¡± I cried.


    The warlock rushed past us, positioning himself between the ruined bodies and the tendrils that had claimed their lives. He immediately cast freeze, catching both in the spell¡¯s area of effect. Ice encased the deadly limbs and their trophies alike, dragging them to the floor with a heavy clunk. Realizing its error, the land shark tried to withdraw its vulnerable appendages, but not without difficulty. Meanwhile, Kriabal continued to pile on layer after layer of magically generated ice, slowing its attempted retreat down further.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it drag its limbs back within the third tentacles range,¡± I cried, pointing to the mutilated tendril as it thrashed wildly nearby.


    ¡°What the fuck do you think I¡¯m tryin¡¯ to do?¡± came the warlock¡¯s tetchy reply.


    ¡°If our warlock isn¡¯t up to the task, let¡¯s slow their retreat the old-fashioned way,¡± bellowed Nyx from somewhere behind me. ¡°Swordsmen, barbarians, get out there and slash those two bastard tendrils to ribbons. But don¡¯t sever them from the ice, it¡¯s the only thing weighing them down. And don¡¯t stray into the third tentacles reach. It may not have a sharpened tip like the others, but if it hits you, you¡¯ll damn well know about it. Shade, Tiny, hold back a moment. You¡¯ll be needed up front as tanks.¡±


    Put on a brave face, Shade. No one wants to see you wet yourself on the field of battle¡­


    I did my best to look stoic. Rep was everything in this world, after all. And although she was probably about to send me charging off to my death, at least Nyx was doing the heavy lifting, making my role as a general (albeit a proxy leader and little more) easier than I¡¯d possibly imagined it could be. And for someone who was more accustomed to being a lackey, that was fine by me. Satisfied that the amazon seemed to have the other noobs under control I turned to address my fellow tank.


    ¡°Hey, axe-hole. You up for returning to tentacle severing duty, then?¡±


    He enthusiastically nodded in response, declaring: ¡°you bet yer noob ass, swords-bitch.¡±


    ¡°Swords-bitch? Oi, that¡¯s General Swords-bitch to you, you glorified meat shield.¡±


    I returned my gaze to General Nyx, just to be sure that she was ready for us to rush off to engage the enemy directly. But if there was some greater strategy reserved for us, we wouldn¡¯t be hearing about it anytime soon. The amazon was hanging slackly between her two helpers, eyes closed and muscular body limp.


    Unconscious again? For fuck¡¯s sake! So much for my back-seat general. Guess I¡¯d better step up again before Tiny takes notice of the leadership vacuum and tries to take over.


    ¡°Take Kraitos with you,¡± I announced, returning my attention to the hard-headed barbarian. ¡°He¡¯s too powerful to attack the weaker end of the tendrils anyway-¡±


    ¡°Too powerful?¡± balked Tiny. ¡°No such thing in a boss battle.¡±


    ¡°Use your head, you dumb lug. With those axes, he might accidentally sever the tip of the tentacle and free the bastard from the ice in the process.¡± I turned to the half-orc, mouthing the word ¡®sorry¡¯ for sticking him with the orc-aphobic asshole of a tank, then continued. ¡°Kraitos, make sure the Conan wannabe focuses on severing the shorter tendril, it¡¯s the only real threat to us at the moment. Given half the chance it¡¯ll attempt to drag you into its jaws, so bring a swordsman to help keep it off your backs. And be careful.¡±


    ¡°Shoulda known yeh¡¯d chicken out, swords-bitch,¡± snarked Tiny with a grin. ¡°But good call, sendin¡¯ the disposable h¡¯orc in yer place. SkullFucker, get yer ass over here, yer with us.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± balked the cowardly barbarian.


    ¡°No arguments. Yer my pet project. We¡¯ll make a proper warrior outta yeh yet.¡±


    As Tiny and Kraitos charged off with a reluctant SkullFucker in tow, I tried not to dwell on his accusation of my cowardice. Yes, I was scared, but I had more than my own wellbeing to consider: someone had to lead the troops, and like it or not, I was more experienced in boss encounters than any of them. It was with that thought that I realized the dumb fuck had buggered off without allocating roles to his own battle-hungry party. Quickly taking advantage, I ordered the two swordswomen and his other barbarian to join my men on limb-hacking duty. Then I addressed Trok and Grimmie, ordering them to leave the fight and to start hauling slabs of granite up to the upper balcony, the heavier and more pointed the better. The order was met with the obvious question: why?


    ¡°That thing will get enraged again before it reaches zero,¡± I replied, pointing to the balcony overhead. ¡°If it chases us again, I want to draw it somewhere we can attack from.¡±


    Before it reaches zero. Listen to me. I¡¯m talking like we actually stand a chance of surviving this shit-show.


    The two half-orcs promptly got to work. Our sword-wielders and their rabble reinforcements were still hacking away at the boss¡¯s vulnerable limbs, and Kriabal was hard at work reinforcing the beast¡¯s icy bonds, so I turned my attention to the other magic users present: the Gun mage, the witch, and my cowardly apprentice.


    ¡°Harry, I want you by my side where I can see you. As for the rest of you, I need you standing under that balcony and ready to draw the boss¡¯s ire with ranged attacks.¡±


    ¡°Why in the unholy hell would we do that?¡± balked the witch.


    ¡°Why do you think the half-orcs are filling up that ledge with heavy rocks?¡± I asked, pointing to the struggling workers as they positioned a three-foot shard of stone precariously on the balcony¡¯s edge.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Landslide,¡± grinned the witch. She began cackling, clapping her hands together like an excited (albeit elderly) schoolgirl.


    ¡°Dunno what you¡¯re so pleased about, love,¡± added a nervous-looking gun mage. ¡°It¡¯s obvious what the noob¡¯s about to ask of us.¡± He turned to me with an accusing glance. ¡°You want us to be the bloody bait, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I awkwardly nodded, then placed a hand on each of their shoulders.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie to you both. Your role in this is going to be dangerous¡­¡±


    I was interrupted by the witch¡¯s laughter. ¡°Look around us, twinko¡± she announced with a sweeping gesture of her scrawny arm. ¡°This whole damned scenario is dangerous.¡±


    I nodded in agreement. ¡°We can¡¯t risk the healer and Kriabal is occupied. As our only other fighters with ranged attacks, you¡¯re the only ones left who can draw aggro from a distance-¡±


    ¡°Relax, twinko,¡± chortled the witch, giving me a playful punch in the arm. ¡°We should be capable o¡¯ getting¡¯ the ugly fuck¡¯s attention when th¡¯ time comes.¡± She gestured to her arcane associate. ¡°Buffalo Bill ¡®ere can hit it wiv a few mana shots, jus¡¯ t¡¯ let it know where we are. In th¡¯ meantime, I¡¯ll charge an attack spell with a bit more oomph. It won¡¯t be much by th¡¯ warlock¡¯s standards, but it should get th¡¯ job done¡±


    ¡°Thank you, ah...¡± I hesitated, ashamed to realize that I didn¡¯t even know the name of the person who I was potentially sending to her death. I quickly glanced above the crone¡¯s head.


    ¡°Agooma. And what about you, Gunner? You okay with this? If you¡¯re not up to the task, I¡¯d rather know now than in the heat of the moment.¡±


    His expression betrayed the words that he spoke, but the gun mage professed to be onboard. With that I thanked them both, leaving them to take up their unenviable position as boss bait.


    -[ The confidence you have instilled in those around you has caused your reputation to increase. Reward: rep buff +1 for the duration of the allegiance, or until an action is committed that negates this bonus. ]-


    Only for the duration of the party¡¯s existence? Well, that was disappointing, given the temporary nature of the alliance in question.


    I guess I need to do something impressive to make it stick. Like murder me a land shark, for example.


    Speaking of big ugly, it had evidently grown wise to the futility of its current strategy. With its hybrid minion¡¯s dead and the majority of its gangly limbs pinned to the ground and under siege, it began to switch to a new tactic: get up close and personal. The land shark¡¯s two powerful hind legs began digging into the floor, pushing the hulking beast toward us. It lacked the speed and urgency of its enraged state, but it wouldn¡¯t be long before it closed in enough for the mutilated tendril to reach my army of swords-noobs, and the last thing I needed to worry about was having my war-party dragged into its imposing trap-like mouth.


    I turned to summon the arcane contingent, but they were well ahead of me. A crackle of arcane gunfire flew across the room, sparking off the beast¡¯s toughened hide. It was followed by a swirling bolt of witchcraft, a purple flame that burst into embers upon contact with the boss¡¯s flank. The damage was negligible: switching the beast¡¯s aggro to the pair was going to be a lot tougher than I¡¯d hoped. Hell, it was even ignoring Tiny and Kraitos as they continued to hack away at its vulnerable side. That suggested that freeing its ice ensnared limbs had now taken priority above all else. The beast was evidently smarter than I¡¯d given it credit for. That meant that if we were going to draw its aggro and lead it into our haphazard trap, we needed to hit it with something substantial. I looked down at my arcane blade and sighed.


    Dammit, I guess if you want a job done...


    ¡°Listen up everyone, I¡¯m going to-¡±


    My announcement was interrupted by a high-pitched scream. The kind that no leader wants to hear from within their own ranks


    Oh come on, what now?


    I turned to the source of the pain-addled cry and yup, it was just as I¡¯d expected. Everything was going to hell again. One of Nyx¡¯s helpers was lying on the floor, his neck broken and his body contorted into a shape that it definitely wasn¡¯t designed for, orcan anatomy or not. The other zero, a middle-aged human, was firmly in her grasp, struggling to be free of the amazon¡¯s powerful grip as she took a moment to study his avatar.


    Under normal circumstances, I would have been overjoyed to see her standing under her own power again, but these were not normal circumstances. Far from it. For a start, her mouth was frothing with a thick ink-like substance. When you add the fact that her unhealthy pale complexion was now as white as milk, oh and the fact that she just murdered one of my men in cold blood, I was not feeling particularly jubilant over our strategist¡¯s miraculous recovery.


    Losing interest in the squirming zero, the amazon released him, then almost decapitated him with one impressive strike: an inhumanly powerful uppercut that opened up multiple lacerations in the non-combatant, shredding his face in the process. I quickly realized why the blow had been so lethal. Her arm and fist were now laced in tiny bone-like protrusions. The look was worryingly familiar to me: she was growing the spikes of a damned hybrid.


    Aww, crap no. Because this is all I fucking need.


    Somewhere in the distance, I heard a pained cry that could only have come from a half-orc. Kraitos. Instinctively I wanted to rush to help my builder friend, but time was not a luxury I could afford. Most of the fighters on my side of the chamber were weaker than me, and if the mutated amazon got her hands on them, it would be a massacre. Fearing that the ¡®infection¡¯ might be spread through our party link, I called up my status menu, promptly booting the amazon from our war-party. Then I allowed myself a quick glance back at my troops, bellowing one final round of orders before rushing to meet the threat from within.


    ¡°Kriabal, the two main tendrils seem to be under control, but the other one is bludgeoning our tanks hard. Go freeze the fucker. Agrooma, you told me you could charge something powerful to grab that bastard¡¯s attention. Hurry the fuck up about it¡­¡±


    Deep down, I knew that the gesture the old crone waved back at me wasn¡¯t a suggestion that she only needed one more minute. But she wasn¡¯t technically my subordinate, so it wasn¡¯t my place to admonish her. I nervously began to wonder if she¡¯d overstated her capabilities, and that weak blast of magic I¡¯d witnessed earlier was all that the witch was capable of. But I didn¡¯t have time to micro-manage, not with a damn hybrid readying itself to cut through my noobish troops. With that, I turned to face it again.


    By now the hybrid had fallen to her knees and was rifling through the bloody corpses of the fallen zeros. But this was no search for loot: she was plundering their very corpses, tearing out their entrails and feeding on the poor bastards. That was more than I could stand. The duo had bravely stepped forward to aid my party, despite their obvious vulnerability. They deserved better than to have their bodies desecrated like this. I was about to rush forward to strike her down when I noticed something odd about my new foe. (Oh all right, something odder.) I could swear that I could see something squirming under her skin. It crawled up her avatar, the skin stretching as it made its way up her throat. My former ally began to choke, spitting a mouthful of tar and what looked like a fist-sized cockroach into her hands. She cradled it like one might hold a tiny kitten. I stared at the roach-like creature in disgust. The final straw was when she placed it into the ruined corpse of the human zero.


    Holy shit, that¡¯s probably the mob that spread the infection to her in the first place. I¡¯d just assumed that they all latch on, like the hellhounds earlier. I never even considered that something might have burrowed inside her.


    Now I understood why Nyx had been acting so strangely. This was no ordinary ¡®poison¡¯ debuff. The tiny mob had been slow to take control of her powerful avatar but had eventually succeeded. As she looked to me with bleeding crimson eyes, there was no denying that her unwanted passenger was now firmly in the driving seat. And worse, it was spreading itself.


    I downed the last of my mana potions and willed the precious energy into my arcane blade. As I did this the hybrid began to scream in agony, a glitching stream of words and code that almost made my ears bleed. She clasped the wrist of her shard-covered arm, her eyes fixated on another bulge beneath her skin. Seconds later, a length of bloody bone burst through and began to sprout from her wrist. But unlike the other jagged protrusions, this one kept going, until it was almost the length of my sword blade.


    Gross. Oh, and what the actual fuck? They can grow their own weapons, too? If I¡¯d realized she could do that I wouldn¡¯t have dismissed Kriabal so quickly.


    Nyx slowly returned to her feet and pointed the grotesque blade directly at me. Meanwhile, the infected zero began to convulse at her feet. His ruined body had been attempting to knit itself back together and was now awkwardly struggling to drag itself upright.


    His zero status must make him easier to turn. Shit, we need to keep him away from the other zeros or we¡¯ll have a damn epidemic on our hands.


    The broken human rose to the amazon¡¯s side, and the pair shrieked in unison. And oddly enough, despite my inexperience, my next order required absolutely no deliberation.


    ¡°Um, Medusa, can you come over here for a minute? I have a feeling that I¡¯m going to need some backup.¡±

 Chapter 16.2

    Medusa promptly found her way to my side, professing that she had no love for General Nyx at the best of times and that the chance to repeatedly stab the suspiciously mob-like version of the amazon was an offer that she simply couldn¡¯t refuse. Making a mental note never to piss off the stab-happy swordswoman (not while I had my back to her, at least) I defiantly held out my mana-infused weapon. Any hope that the display had put the fear of, well, me into my opponents quickly evaporated. The ugly fucks were smiling. Oddly enough, we weren¡¯t. I had one last chance to impress the severity of the situation on my fellow sword-wielder before the inevitable clash began.


    ¡°This is no ordinary boss battle,¡± I declared.


    ¡°You a veteran, then?¡± she snarked, her own blade thrumming with a noticeably weaker charge than my own.


    ¡°Hear me out. I¡¯ve played games like this before, albeit much more primitive ones. So one thing I do know is that the boss scenarios tend to follow a fairly predictable formula. We¡¯re conditioned to assume that the cluster of smaller opponents will always represent the lesser threat¡­¡±


    I glanced back to the ¡®lesser¡¯ threat in question. The pair were slowly mutating as their bulk continued to grow, and their inky black veins became increasingly pronounced.


    ¡°A pack of lower-level fodder who drop loot and make the fight more difficult? Seems pretty standard to me,¡± she replied with a shrug.


    ¡°Hear me out. I¡¯m beginning to suspect that the hybrids have been the true threat, right from the very beginning. I think that big ugly bastard behind us is just their damn tank.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ you think this skanky amazon is the real boss, then?¡±


    The ¡®skanky¡¯ amazon screeched, raising her boney blade to level it directly at my head. As she did so, I noticed that her fellow mob was exhibiting a much less confrontational body language. It was getting ready to run.


    ¡°I think this is a war, and that the enemy has a strategy,¡± I continued. ¡°They used the big ugly fuck to keep us distracted while they infiltrated our troops and took control of our most powerful players. Hell, they probably led it right to us. And while they had to sacrifice a pack of powerful mobs to do it, they¡¯ve made it past our front line. There¡¯s no one standing between them and the non-combatants. Hell, if Nyx wasn¡¯t so damn stubborn, she¡¯d be right in their midst already.¡±


    ¡°Lucky break¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but look at the weaker one. He¡¯s getting ready to make a break for it. If that wretched excuse for a player reaches the other zeros, it¡¯ll easily infect them. Then we¡¯ll have an army at our backs, all ready to spread their damn poison into our ranks. Our only saving grace in this shitshow of a battle has been our ability to retreat from the enemies reach. But if these fuckers continue to spread, we¡¯ll be surrounded.¡±


    Medusa considered this, then nodded in agreement. ¡°It¡¯s kinda like chess,¡± she growled, ¡° and the bastards snuck one of their pieces to the opposite end of the board, right under our very noses.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯ve been one move ahead of us all along, and now they¡¯ve positioned themselves where they can do the most damage. Thanks to the land shark we¡¯re the only ones free to stop this pair, so get ready to give it everything you¡¯ve got. This is where we either turn the tide or lose the battle completely-¡±


    The amazon formerly known as Nyx let out another glitching howl. The time for talking was over. The corrupted zero was the first to move, breaking away from the stronger mob in a frantic dash to reach the panicked zeros. Just as I¡¯d expected it to. I ordered my rabble ally to chase the hybrid down and end its mockery of an existence. Medusa¡¯s disappointment with the allocation of opponents was barely concealed, but she didn¡¯t argue the point: as the fighter with the greater speed, she was better positioned to chase down the weaker foe. And with that, she left my side, a blazing blur of mana trailing in the deadly fighter¡¯s wake.


    The more powerful hybrid moved to assist its newborn ally, but I cried out, drawing the freak¡¯s attention. I hadn¡¯t technically developed the taunt skill yet, but yelling at the top of my lungs that the amazon¡¯s ass looked more like Conan¡¯s than Red Sonia¡¯s seemed to get her attention just fine. (Granted, the fact that I¡¯m a level 3 swordsman with an epic class sword in my hand probably didn¡¯t hurt in the attention-grabbing stakes, either.) With that I charged my foe, itching to show the creature what I¡¯d learned about mana manipulation since my earlier hybrid encounter. Alas, I quickly discovered that I wasn¡¯t the only warrior who¡¯d learned new tricks this day. The former amazon reached out, the flat of her palm raised to me as if ordering me to stop. And to my horror, that was exactly what I did. My avatar froze mid-stride, almost toppling in the process.


    -[ Warning: glitch detected. Soft reboot initiated. ]-


    What the fuck? Nyx is no wizard, and that¡¯s no damn spell. What the hell has that bitch done to my avatar?


    Medusa could see that I was in danger and just as before, she didn¡¯t hesitate to rush to my aid. Breaking away from her own gangly foe she charged the amazon, aiming her empowered weapon directly at the hybrid warrior¡¯s throat. The mob blocked the strike, her boney protrusion easily deflecting the blow and throwing the noobish sword-wielder off-balance. As Medusa stumbled backwards her intended target pressed the attack, striking the Blade of Swiftness from her inexperienced hands.


    By now my control over my avatar had returned, and the swordswoman¡¯s distraction was one that I intended to take full advantage of. I threw myself into the battle with urgency, slicing a gouge into the creature¡¯s upper arm for 30HP of damage. Knowing that the mob¡¯s attention would now be fully on me, I couldn¡¯t afford to get distracted. So of course, that was when the sound of my worst fear did exactly that. All hell was breaking loose by the tunnel entrance, as the hybrid zero began his mission to convert his fellow peasants. With no combat skills to speak of, they were defenseless, and the creature knew it as he ran amongst them like a fox let loose in a chicken coop.


    ¡°Bollocks! Medusa, use your speed to chase that bastard down,¡± I cried, redirecting the warrior to her original foe. ¡°We can¡¯t let him infect any of the others.


    ¡°What about you?¡± she protested.


    ¡°I¡¯m a tank, and we have a healer close by. I can hold out for now.¡± I hope. ¡°Don¡¯t even think of aiding me until you¡¯ve ended that scrawny freak. Oh, and when you do return, I have a feeling we¡¯ll be needing that tactic you used on the hybrids earlier.¡±


    Medusa nodded in understanding: the amazon had been unconscious during that earlier battle, so there was a chance that she wouldn¡¯t be prepared for the swordswoman¡¯s tendon-slicing tendencies. With that the fighter left to pursue her weaker hybrid opponent, crossing the space between us and her foe in seconds. As I watched her drag a defenseless dwarf from the hybrid¡¯s clutches, I envied her her role: the mutated zero would surely make for an easy kill. One that would earn her the monster slayer trait, a title that I too coveted.


    Trust me to get stuck with the level 8 frankenmob.


    But this was no time to think like an individual. I was a leader now, apparently. If the infection spread to the other players, we¡¯d have a damn army of hybrids to worry about. And if Nyx and the raid party had been any indication, one of the fuckers was more than enough to deal with.


    As the mob began to rush me, I readied my arcane blade and unsheathed the dagger from my ankle strap, praying that I could hold out until Medusa returned to execute our plan. The stronger hybrid let out an unholy screech, her boney blade aimed straight for my vulnerable throat. I parried the blow just in time, giving thanks for the extra sword-skill that my progression to level 3 had bestowed me. More and more strikes rained down on my avatar, each one attempting to impale me on that grotesque boney protrusion the amazon now wielded in leiu of a sword. But between my high resilience, my impressive armor buffs and my own skill with a blade, very little damage made its way past my guard. (And thank fuck for that: I had little doubt that one well-placed blow from the more experienced fighter would easily send me to my grave.)


    As I continued to successfully deflect blow after blow, my newfound skill with the blade took even me by surprise. This, it seemed, was the true benefit of leveling up a swordsman skill: knowledge. My fighting instincts had been upgraded, granting me access to blocks and strikes I couldn¡¯t even have imagined upon arrival to this hellhole prison. The armed combat buffs couldn¡¯t be hurting my progress, either. The extra tricks were barely allowing me to keep up with the more experienced warrior, but I was keeping my head above water (and on my shoulders) if nothing else. My HP remained high, and the apprentice was on-hand to heal me should the boney blade finally slip past my defenses, but one stat was of increasing concern: my stamina. It was dropping rapidly as I attempted to keep pace with my frenzied opponent.


    What the hell¡¯s keeping Medusa, I wondered, as I continued to parry blow after blow, always on the backfoot. I can¡¯t keep this up much longer. If I¡¯m going to survive this I need to go on the offence, and fast.


    Choosing my moment carefully, I knocked aside the bloodthirsty mob¡¯s blade, holding it at bay with my own. Its weapon momentarily incapacitated, the hybrid made a lunging grasp for my throat, but I spun to avoid it and lashed out with my other arm, thrusting my assassin¡¯s blade forward and releasing a burst of mana as I drove the weapon down hard into her unguarded shoulder. I wasn¡¯t even sure if the smaller weapon could wield mana (it certainly lacked the multiplier of my arcane sword). But as the sliver of steel sank into her milky flesh and her glitching scream rang out through the chamber, I felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. That satisfaction was short-lived however when I felt my avatar freeze again.


    -[ Warning: glitch detected. Soft reboot initiated. ]-


    A burning sensation entered my pixelated prison, but I couldn¡¯t even move my lips to scream.


    -[ You have been impaled by the enemy¡¯s blade. HP -80. ]-


    -[ You are bleeding from a serious stab wound. A DOT effect has been initiated. 10HP will be lost per minute until the injury has been treated. ]-


    The injury stung like a bitch. The bone-forged weapon had been driven right into the gap where my chest-plate met my shoulder pauldron.


    How? Oh hell, it¡¯s her armor. Of course she knows where its damn weak points are.


    The hybrid leaned in closer to my avatar, her inky teeth bared. It felt oddly¡­ intimate. Once upon a time, the thought of having the well-proportioned amazon lean in to nibble my neck would have been more than welcome.


    What a difference a mutant virus makes, eh?


    The hybrid was now barely an inch from my face. And as a long inky tongue resembling that of the hellhound began to playfully probe the corners of my lips, I realized that my wet dream had somehow become my worst fucking nightmare. The debuff faded and I struggled to be free, but there was no escape: I was pinned on her blade and to pull away would mean tearing open my own shoulder. I seriously considered the desperate maneuver, but it was a pointless strategy: even if I did injure myself to aid my escape, her other hand was still grasping my wrist, determined to keep my mana-charged blade at bay.


    I pushed back with my impressive strength, but be it her own natural strength, or a hybrid-enhanced upgrade, she had me locked firmly in her grasp. I could tell from the infrequency of its use that her ability to freeze my avatar must have a cooldown between casts, but only a short one. That meant I needed to make the most of my opportunity to fight back, while I still had the chance to do so. So I did the only thing I could think of: I headbutted the creature with as much force as I could muster. She looked stunned, so I immediately did it again. And again. My own head throbbed but the attack was to no avail. Her grip held fast, and the boney blade continued to burn in my flesh. I was her prisoner. And if she cast the ¡®spell¡¯ on me again, I was as good as dead. Worse, I was as good as infected.


    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± I gasped, praying that reason would somehow succeed where brute force was failing me.


    No answer came, save for a status message that I could really have done without¡­


    -[ You have lost 10HP due to a bleeding debuff. Medical attention recommended. ]-


    Where the hell is my healer? If he¡¯s buggered off to lie around in his undies again, I¡¯ll kill him myself¡­


    As I struggled to hold back the powerful hybrid, my eyes searched the chamber for the AWOL apprentice, but he was running between bloodied swords-noobs, healing them as best he could. The attempts to draw the land shark¡¯s aggro had failed, and its mutilated tentacle had finally reached my troops, wreaking havoc on the small group of inexperienced fighters. I watched in horror as the boss took one of my reluctant recruits in its grasp, yanking him from my line of sight. That was when I noticed Kriabal, face down and unmoving. He was alive: I would have gotten an alert if he wasn¡¯t. But things were clearly going to hell in my absence.


    -[ User: TheGreatestSwordsman has died. Swordsmen remaining in your war-party: 2. ]-


    This is all falling apart! I need to kill this bitch and get back to leading my troops.


    I guess bad news always comes in threes, because that alert was promptly followed by the last status message that I personally wanted to hear.


    -[ Warning: glitch detected. Soft reboot initiated. ]-


    Awww, crap!


    As the mutated amazon pushed past my now nonexistent defense, I prepared myself for the Alien equivalent of tonsil-hockey. But to my surprise she brought her face close to mine, then began to speak. And the very first word was deliberately chosen to grab my attention.


    ¡°Mai,¡± it whispered.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    What? There¡¯s no way in hell this thing is the friendly help-file from my arrival.


    ¡°Speak,¡± it continued, this time with a smile.


    I felt my mouth unfreeze, and immediately took advantage, demanding to know what the hell the creature meant.


    ¡°She¡¯s been trying to reach you, you know,¡± began the hybrid in its broken, digital voice.


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± I replied, ¡°she¡¯s back in limbo. And why the hell would you bring her up, anyhow?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t realize?¡± it asked, arching an eyebrow. Its breath was fermented, as if the broken thing was already rotting inside. I tried not to wretch as it continued to address me. ¡°You didn¡¯t wonder where the voice was coming from? The garbled messages that tried to help you on your way? Your crash course in mana manipulation¡­ that was your little elven floozy.¡±


    ¡°How could you know about-?¡±


    ¡°We heard the voice too,¡± continued the hybrid, cutting me off mid-sentence. ¡°The elf has become infected with oddly humanistic behavior, the poor thing. She¡¯s fixated on saving you, you know?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I gasped.


    ¡°After the goblin incident, the elf became determined to return your kindness. She somehow managed to break her programming and follow you into the prison.¡±


    ¡°Siriso wouldn¡¯t allow that. He¡¯s-¡±


    ¡°Siriso has abandoned her. Thinks she¡¯s just a glitch, he does. He¡¯s glad to be rid of her.¡±


    Or did he send her after me to help with my ¡®mission?¡¯ I quietly wondered.


    ¡°Even if all this is true, how could you possibly know it?¡±


    ¡°Because the moment she broke her programming she entered my domain,¡± replied the hybrid with a smile. ¡°Just another corruption, albeit a pretty one.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± I protested. I didn¡¯t know what mind-games the creature was playing, or what it hoped to gain from them, but whatever it was up to, it was playing on my infatuations. And in order to do so, it had clearly violated my privacy settings.


    ¡°Believe what you want, my little former fleshling, it makes little odds to me. The elf has no true value beyond the sentimental, and personally, I don¡¯t even have that for her. Once I had time for sentiment. I was worshiped, and I loved my followers in return. But I only have hatred to drive me, these days.¡±


    ¡°If Mai did follow me here, why haven¡¯t I seen her?¡±


    ¡°By the time she gained entry to the boss chamber, you were already gone. As was the boss, it was little more than a carcass. But this one was still present, as were her men. She gifted the elf to her master¡­¡±


    ¡°Kronan has her? Why?¡±


    ¡°Who wouldn¡¯t want to own a valuable commodity like a help-file in this hellhole?¡±


    Kronan, you bastard! And Nyx, how could you¡­


    The freeze-effect released, and I again tried my best to fight back, but I was firmly in the hybrid¡¯s grasp. I prayed that with any luck, Medusa would finish the other hybrid shortly and come rushing to my aid, slicing the bitch¡¯s tendons with a well-aimed strike. But in the meantime, my only hope was to keep little miss chatty mob talking.


    ¡°Why are you telling me all this?¡± I asked. It was a genuine question: the creature¡¯s behavior was far from normal.


    ¡°The elf¡¯s location is my gift to you, precious Shade. Just one small example of how an alliance between us could prove to be mutually beneficial.¡±


    ¡°Alliance?¡± I gasped ¡°You¡¯ve got to be joking!¡±


    I felt the freeze effect claim my avatar again, leaving me powerless to so much as struggle against my corrupted captor.


    ¡°Re-add me to your war-party,¡± she continued, ignoring my protests. ¡°Then promote me to leader. The leadership buff will do the rest.¡±


    ¡°You want me to let you use my position to infect my men? Do you honestly think I¡¯d betray them like that?¡±


    ¡°You would be spared, precious Shade. I would swear it by oath-¡±


    ¡°Screw that. And screw you, I¡¯d rather die.¡±


    -[ You have lost 10HP due to a bleeding debuff. Medical attention recommended. ]-


    ¡­announced a badly-timed status message.


    ¡°Die? And then what, become one of us? It can be arranged, precious Shade. But you¡¯re much more useful to us in your current state, than as another hybrid foot soldier.¡±


    ¡°My ass will respawn in the opposite end of the dungeon-¡±


    ¡°Heh. You haven¡¯t grasped just how deep our infection runs, have you? I suppose it¡¯s no surprise, they¡¯ve swept our existence under the carpet, so far. A virus in the system is hardly good PR, is it? But here¡¯s the reality of the situation, precious Shade. Our corruption will infect your very personaware, respawning with you into your next body. You¡¯ll be quarantined by the warden, and then you¡¯ll never leave this place.¡±


    What?


    ¡°What do you owe this pack of criminals?¡± it continued, wrenching the blade in my shoulder as a less-than-subtle reminder of my somewhat limited alternatives. ¡°Don¡¯t you understand the power you would gain as our sole human ally? When we¡¯ve finally destroyed the Dungeon Warden, we¡¯ll need someone to operate the core whose touch won¡¯t destroy it in the process. You could rule this prison by our side.¡±


    That was the moment when I realized that we both had a common enemy. Not coincidently, it was also the moment that my resolve finally weakened. And the hybrid could see it in my eyes, if the blackened smile creeping across its grotesque face was anything to go by. As I mulled my options over, the creature sweetened the deal, promising to help me take down Kronan and free Mai in the process. To my relief I was spared that moral dilemma as I spotted my other chance of survival closing in.


    Medusa was charging the hybrid from behind, no doubt preparing to unleash her special move. But crap, had my eyes given away her position? Nyx looked to my face, then turned to catch the swordswoman¡¯s approach. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation she pulled her blade from me, pushing my pained avatar to the ground as she leapt to dodge the blades arc, easily avoiding the surgical strike to the tendons on the backs of her legs. The moment the creature landed she twisted beyond all human limits, thrusting her own blade into the defenseless swordswoman¡¯s stomach. Medusa howled in pain, pressing her hand to the bleeding wound as she stumbled back, desperate to put as much distance as possible between them.


    ¡°You on the other hand,¡± declared the hybrid, pointing to the bloodied fighter. ¡°You will make an excellent soldier in our army.¡±


    Medusa began to weakly parry the hybrid¡¯s strikes, her usual expression of determination now replaced by one of panic. It was my opportunity to call for help. My fellow troops were more than occupied fighting off the land shark, but the apprentice hurriedly ran to my side, frantically apologizing for daring to leave it in the first place. I wasn¡¯t angry with him, though. He left me to put himself in danger by helping the others. Given his earlier behavior, I couldn¡¯t ask for a better excuse.


    -[ You have received a healing buff. HP +30 ]-


    It wasn¡¯t much, but with the noobish apprentice¡¯s cooldown between casts and Medusa¡¯s defense rapidly failing, it was going to have to do. I¡¯d finally stopped bleeding if nothing else. I ordered the apprentice to circle around the hybrid and hit it with a blast of wand-fire, assuring him that he was only the distraction, and not taking my place in the battle. He did so, releasing a flash of mana that struck the hybrid in the back of the neck. With the hybrids attention now split between two foes, I leapt to my feet and dashed forward, forcing my mana from the blade as I ran it through the hybrid¡¯s exposed back, deliberately avoiding the armored protrusions on her spine to ensure maximum impact. As I withdrew my blade, I received the most satisfying message imaginable.


    -[ You impaled your opponent for -150 HP damage. ]-


    ¡°That¡¯s my answer, bitch,¡± I bellowed. ¡°Want me to repeat it?¡±


    -[ You were offered a moral dilemma and chose the righteous path. Rep +1. ]-


    Dilemma? You don¡¯t know the half of it, mate.


    Nyx howled in pain as I withdrew my blade, then spun to face me. As her crimson eyes bore into me, I gave thanks that I still had one thing working to my advantage. The fact that I was wearing the amazon¡¯s armor meant she had little to absorb the blow of my strikes. My mana-charged attack had dealt her some serious damage, I only hoped that her max HP wasn¡¯t even more impressive. Perception would come in real handy, right about now.


    I doubted she could hear me, but I apologized to Mai, promising to make her rescue my priority when the immediate threat was dealt with. Then I lunged at the hybrid, my mana-infused sword blazing. From there it became a straight up swordfight, as we hacked and slashed at each other¡¯s avatars. The hybrid was unquestionably tougher than me... hell, the fact she was even standing after being impaled on my blade was a testament to her hybrid-enhanced resilience. But I had the apprentice healing me from nearby, while her lack of armor gave me a lot more soft targets to aim for than she could hope to find on me.


    As my HP and stamina continued to drop, I was increasingly concerned that my last push wasn¡¯t going to be enough. But to my relief, I wasn¡¯t the only one Harry had been healing throughout the battle. Medusa launched herself to her feet when our opponent least expected it, lashing out with incredible speed and accuracy. The blow was aimed at the creature¡¯s bone-laced arm, severing it at its weakest point: the wound I¡¯d dealt the amazon the beginning of the fight.


    ¡°You were feigning your stunned status?¡± I gasped.


    Medusa nodded back with a smirk as the hybrid howled in pain, stumbled and fell to its back, rolling to put as much distance as possible between it and our sub-unit. As it scrambled to escape, a trail of thick tar-like blood poured from the severed limb, marking the stricken mob¡¯s path. Medusa announced that it was clinging to a paltry 22HP, and suffering from a heavy bleeding debuff. Translation, it was finished.


    The panicked hybrid scrambled back to its feet and began to make a run for it, her bleeding avatar lurching under the weight of her mounting injuries. But even at full health, there was no way she could have competed with Medusa¡¯s speed. The swordswoman raced after her and mercilessly cut her down, severing the head with an impressive blow to the back of the neck.


    As I watched the hybrid fall to the floor in more pieces than it would probably prefer, I felt a pang of jealousy. I would get a share of the XP for the battle (how much, I couldn¡¯t be sure: I¡¯d turned off the notifications to cut down on distractions) but with Medusa landing the killing blow, the bulk of the XP would be shared out amongst Tiny¡¯s rabble. And to make me even greener with envy, the swordswoman had just earned herself the much-coveted monster hunter trait. I reminded myself that she¡¯d saved my life twice already, so, you know, she deserved it. But the jealousy remained.


    Not having landed the killing blow wasn¡¯t even my only regret. Part of me hoped I¡¯d made the right choice by not accepting the creature¡¯s offer of an alliance: an army of mutant mob-warrior hybrids couldn¡¯t be the worst resource to have in my quest to kill the Dungeon Warden, after all. But there was no time to dwell on that, for now at least. My troops were still under attack, and while the tendril responsible lacked the deadly tip of its ice-imprisoned clones, it was only a matter of time before it bludgeoned my allies to death, or pulled another warrior into the beast¡¯s gaping maw. I was dragged from those thoughts by yet another concern, this one relating to a loose end I¡¯d assumed dealt with.


    ¡°Crap! Look, the other hybrid¡¯s getting away,¡± cried Medusa, pointing her sword to the far end of the chamber.


    I followed the line of the blade to learn that the hybrid zero was crawling up the battlefield. It was already past the boss and aiming for the corridor the infected raid party had originally arrived through.


    ¡°What the hell? I thought you¡¯d already killed that ugly bastard?¡±


    ¡°It was tougher than I expected,¡± she protested. ¡°It was able to grow blades like the other one. I eventually managed to sever one of its legs. But then you needed my help, so I didn¡¯t get to finish the job. I figured the zeros would have no problem outrunning it in its current state, so I let it be.¡±


    And now I feel insanely guilty for begrudging her the kill, earlier. She¡¯d already passed up one such opportunity, just to save my noobish ass.


    ¡°I can chase it down-¡± she began, but I cut her off, grabbing her arm firmly to hold her in place.


    ¡°Leave it.¡±


    ¡°But it might spread its infection further-¡±


    ¡°I realize that. And believe me, I¡¯d love to do the deed myself¡­ the opportunity to gain the monster hunter trait would be awesome. But these people are still depending on us. We can¡¯t afford to chase that thing down while they¡¯re still in danger.¡±


    She nodded, flashing me a smile. ¡°I really picked the wrong general, didn¡¯t I?¡± she asked, tussling my hair before rushing back into battle. She immediately joined the less experienced swordswoman¡¯s side.


    Truth be told, I wasn¡¯t sure if I believed my own reasoning for letting the hybrid go free. Part of me wanted to hedge my bets, mull the hybrid¡¯s proposition over for a possible future alliance. Letting the zero live to assimilate more mobs assured that I would still have an army to join, if the time came.


    Hey, don¡¯t judge me, I have a fucking Dungeon Warden to kill, alright?


    Admittedly, I couldn¡¯t have chased the hybrid down even if I¡¯d wanted to. My stamina was all but spent, and the swordswoman¡¯s intervention had barely come in the nick of time. The apprentice was still dutifully topping up my HP, but I desperately needed a moment to catch my breath, lest I fall flat on my face and get myself killed. And yes, I could probably afford to lose a level, given my impressive gains so far. But this was no time for dumb self-sacrifices: my death would rob my entire party of my leadership buff. Besides, I needed to get as strong as possible before this battle ended, one way or the other. If I couldn¡¯t bring down a dumb boss, how the hell would I stand a chance against a high-level dungeon warden?


    The offer from the hybrid was shocking enough, but the Mai revelation had been the thing that had really knocked me for six. I reminded myself that this was no time to get distracted by such matters. So instead of indulging my elf-rescuing fantasies, I used the moment as an opportunity to check the status of my troops, reading off their HP and primary skill levels. The skull where TheGreatestSwordsman¡¯s icon should be was a harsh reminder of how easily I could lose those under my command. truth be told, I expected to see plenty more of those icons before the battle was through. But there was something oddly satisfying about seeing those who remained level up right before my eyes. It would be even more satisfying if they were my slaves, admittedly¡­ that way the gains would technically be mine, too. But I consoled myself with my own gains: there was nothing so satisfying as seeing my levels increase, so I quickly checked them.


    After helping to take down two hybrids, fighting off the boss¡¯s tentacle and showing some genuine flourishes of leadership I¡¯d expected a jump, but my assumptions couldn¡¯t prepare me for what I saw. I was power-leveling beyond all expectations.


    USERNAME: SHADE


    PRIMARY SKILL: SWORDSMAN ¨C LEVEL 3


    XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 12


    SECONDARY SKILL: THIEF ¨C LEVEL 3


    XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 90


    PRIMARY TRAIT: SLAVEOWNER ¨C LEVEL 1


    XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED ¨C 6


    Rep: -22(+1)/30


    HP: 75/115


    Mana: 65/115


    Alliances: Leader of an unnamed war-party. Owner of Samusk (Dwarf, slave)


    PHYSICAL STATS -


    Strength: 5 (Cap 7)


    Agility: 1 (Cap 7)


    Speed: 3 (Cap 7)


    Stamina: 3 (Cap 7)


    Resilience: 4+2 (Cap 7+2)


    Accuracy: 1 (Cap 7)


    Defence: 1+14 (Cap 7+14)


    Armed combat: 3+2 (Cap 8+2)


    Unarmed combat: 5+3 (Cap 5+3)


    Carrying capacity: 1 (Cap 3)


    Building: 1 (Cap 4)


    INTANGIBLE STATS -


    Magical attack: 0 (Cap 2)


    Perception: 1 (Cap 5)


    Charisma: 1 (Cap 3)


    Disguise: 0 (Cap 2)


    Luck: 1 (Cap 3)


    Healing: 0 (Cap 0)


    Mana generation: 1 (Cap 4)


    Mana manipulation: 2 (Cap 3)


    Leadership: 1+2 (Cap 4+2)


    Homemaking: 0 (Cap 2)


    Not too shabby.


    After too long scavenging for every tiny scrap of XP or weaponry I could muster, I was really starting to pick up some serious momentum. Who knew a job as a builder could be so rewarding, eh? My defense stat in particular was staggering, thanks to the combination of the amazon¡¯s armor and my stolen bracers.


    I made a mental note: items with an inbuilt buff to stats were seriously the way forward. Equally satisfying was the fact that my unarmed combat was finally maxed out, granting me a new opportunity to reroute XP into perception, and other hard to level skills. But hang on¡­ how did the stat get so high without me realizing? And for that matter, why do I have two points in mana manipulation instead of one? I¡¯m not exactly complaining, but WTF?


    There were other anomalies, too. My +40 luck XP (gained in the hybrid assassination attempt) had somehow become a full base point without me noticing. Yes, technically I was lucky to still be alive, and perhaps the game was as bewildered by that fact as I was. But I only switched off XP related notifications. How had those stats increased without a status alert to announce the fact, I wondered?


    Studying my previous alerts, it suddenly occurred to me that if I gained a share of the XP from each of my team-mates kills, then as a leader, surely it wasn¡¯t inconceivable that I was gaining XP from their actions, too. It was the only logical explanation. As their XP grew, I was getting a share, enough to quietly push a few of my stats to the next level. I made a mental note to ask the more experienced Kriabal what was going on, later. Then (with more than a little guilt) I removed TheGreatestSwordsman from my war-party. I was on a mission to power-level, and I couldn¡¯t afford to have the party¡¯s gains shared with a player who wasn¡¯t even present. It felt like a bit of a dick move, admittedly: he¡¯d been zeroed joining my cause, so I was kinda responsible. I made a mental note to track him down and do my best to look out for him when this battle was finally a distant nightmare.


    Speaking of danger, a scream signified it was time for me to put both that new XP and what little stamina I¡¯d regained to good use. Reluctantly, I looked up to see what was causing the commotion.


    Oh hell no.


    One of the ice-laden tendrils had finally snapped under the repeated barrage of sword strikes. Tiny and Kraitos were desperately focusing on severing the freed limb at the root, but as they toiled my weaker troops were taking a pounding. I watched in horror as the level 2 swords-noob was swept up by the mutilated tentacle and dragged mercilessly into the boss¡¯s waiting jaws. He was boss-chow. It was a horrific death I knew all too well, firsthand.


    -[ User: CutThroatKeith has died. Swordsmen remaining in your war-party: 1. ]-


    Shit, so this is seriously all the rest I¡¯m getting? I despaired, dragging my weary avatar to its feet. One fucking minute?


    I quickly removed CutThroatKeith from my war-party and prepared myself to once more rush into the fray. The next words I heard were from Kriabal, and I was relieved to learn that our most powerful magic user was finally conscious again. But what I wasn¡¯t keen on, was the note of panic in his voice.


    ¡°Enraged buff,¡± he cried, ¡°take cover.¡±


    Oh well, no rest for the wicked. Time for the endgame.

 Chapter 16.3

    On approach, I learned that Tiny had finally severed the tendril that I¡¯d fought so hard to mutilate earlier. And the end of that particular threat had come not a moment too soon (although it was equally possible that the loss of one of its three remaining limbs had been responsible for sending the land shark into a frenzy in the first place). I searched out Medusa, hoping that the speedy swordswoman could be relied upon yet again to draw the big dumb mob away, this time into the clutches of my hastily prepared trap. But that hope was immediately dashed as I watched my fellow sword-wielder take a devastating blow to the side of the head from the wildly swinging tendril, knocking her clean off her feet. Despite Medusa¡¯s dazed protests, she was immediately dragged to the safety of the chamber¡¯s edge by an almost equally bloodied Pandora. I couldn¡¯t read either battered fighter¡¯s HP, but given the boss¡¯s strength, I couldn¡¯t imagine that the pair would be back in the fight for a while.


    Crap. If she hadn¡¯t leveled up in the battle with Nyx she¡¯d probably be dead. Our weaker troops couldn¡¯t hope to survive a blow like that. I need to get out there and draw some aggro of my own.


    I ordered my apprentice to the swordswoman¡¯s side then hastily deposited my recently gained mana into my thirsty blade. Meanwhile, the gun mage did his best to initiate our original plan, raining pellets of hardened mana into the hide of the angered boss in a desperate attempt to draw the beast his way. But if the land shark recognized its old enemy, it no longer perceived him as a threat: it only had eyes for the noobish barbarian it deemed responsible for its freshly mutilated limb.


    Tiny and Kraitos grasped the severity of the situation and switched from tentacle-severing duty to outright damage-dealing, hacking at the creature¡¯s sides, briefly drawing the ire of said stunted limb. It thrashed at the annoyance like a more conventional beast swatting at flies with its tail, but the duo¡¯s attack wasn¡¯t enough to shift the bastard¡¯s focus: with its one free limb occupied, its colossal bulk continued to charge at its fixation: it was determined to kill the barbarian who¡¯d had the audacity to sever its precious tendril, and the attempt was drawing it further and further from the balcony overhead.


    ¡°Shit! Tiny, Kraitos, hit it with something it can¡¯t ignore, then pull back. Do whatever it takes to lead the ugly bastard to that fucking balcony.¡±


    The two tanks broke away from the relative safety of their opponent''s side and began to attack its infinitely more dangerous ¡®face¡¯, desperately struggling to draw the beast¡¯s aggro and turn back its advance. Kraitos began to flag, his stamina finally succumbing to the battle¡¯s brutal demands. But Tiny¡¯s axe was still thirsty for the indifferent mob¡¯s attention. He swung the enhanced weapon with a flash of crackling mana, shattering a massive tooth and ruining the land shark¡¯s sinister smile in the process.


    Yes, that got the bastard¡¯s attention.


    The beast seemed torn between the barbarian who had shortened its precious limb and the one who was currently trying his hand at epic dentistry. I couldn¡¯t be sure if the impressive damage was going to be enough to draw the beast away, but if nothing else the creature¡¯s indecision had halted its charge, buying me time to join the remaining fighters in their attempts to fend off the enraged tendril that wildly swung between them.


    The weary barbarians looked relieved by the sudden reappearance of their hybrid-battling hero. Kriabal didn¡¯t, however. In fact, he was giving me a very dirty look. I couldn¡¯t be certain why he was giving me the evil eye, but there was no time to ask him. Much more concerning was the indecisive beast that could easily start to charge us again at any moment.


    ¡°They need more ammo,¡± cried Kriabal, fending off a wildly swinging tendril with a blast of pure force.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The half-orcs on the balcony. Even if we draw this ugly fuck over to them, they¡¯ll need more rocks to let loose. What they¡¯ve carried up there already will barely scratch the bastard.¡±


    Dammit, he¡¯s right. They haven¡¯t had anywhere near long enough to prepare.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you, I dunno, hurl rocks at it with earth-magic, or something,¡± I asked, somewhat naively.


    ¡°Sure thing, boss. Let me pull a few mob-eating rabbits outta my ass first, then I¡¯ll get right on it.¡±


    Yup, no question about it¡­ the warlock was definitely giving me attitude. My perplexed gaze prompted my furry former cheerleader to speak again.


    ¡°Hell¡¯s bells, fella, why does everyone assume the magic user has all the bloody cheat codes. Earth magic? Where the hell would I pull that from? I only serve three masters, force, fire, an¡¯ ice, an¡¯ that¡¯s an impressive mix as it is. Last I checked, none of those schools o¡¯ magic can be used to haul fucking rocks into the air and onto that damn balcony.¡±


    Damn. Why so tetchy, though?


    ¡°I might be able to bring a rain of ice down on the bastard, though,¡± he continued, ¡°if you give me a few minutes to charge the spell. Fallin¡¯ ice should have the same effect as fallin¡¯ boulders.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Do it!¡± I ordered, turning to the two noobish barbarians who were anxiously awaiting my attention. ¡°You two, head up to the balcony and assist the half-orcs in their efforts.¡± I stopped to parry a blow from the swinging limb, giving thanks that it had so many targets to move between, then continued. ¡°We need to drop as much weight on this thing as possible, the sharper the better. Go, I¡¯ll cover your retreat.¡±


    And hopefully the bastard will spot you running in that direction and follow, I thought to myself, coldly.


    The barbarian noobs seemed more than satisfied with my suggestion that they retreat to the (relative) safety of the balcony. And I was pretty satisfied with the increase in my leadership stat that followed the order. But that relief was short lived as Samusk¡¯s dwarven avatar finally rotted, creating a gaping hollow in the ice that had once contained him. The tendril he¡¯d been impaled on (now finding itself with a lot more wriggle room) easily broke free, adding an even deadlier threat to an already terminal situation.


    Another bone-tipped bastard to contend with. And an enraged one, at that. Wonderful.


    Samusk began to rematerialize at my side, but I didn¡¯t have time to stop and listen to his inevitable complaints. There was time for one final order before I engaged my vastly superior enemy close-up.


    ¡°Kriabal, change of plan. I need that spiked tendril weighed down, asap.¡±


    ¡°I have an attack to charg-¡±


    ¡°Fucking do it!¡± I cut in, ¡°and that¡¯s a damn order. That tentacle has too much reach compared to the injured one. If it gets to the troops on the balcony, we¡¯re finished.¡±


    ¡°Got it, he grunted,¡± accepting my logic, before forcefully grabbing my arm and adding: ¡°One more thing though, fearless leader. I noticed our war-party seems to be shrinkin¡¯. So here¡¯s a word of advice from a veteran to his noob general. You even think of cuttin¡¯ me from the party before this battle¡¯s ended, an¡¯ I¡¯ll shove my staff so far up your ass you¡¯ll glow like a fuckin Christmas tree, got it?¡±


    -[ The warlock has called you on your shady act and this has caused your reputation to suffer within your war-party. Penalty: you have lost your +1 rep buff. Warning: if this underhand act is discovered by your other troops the debuff may increase. ]-


    Crap. Busted. No wonder the warlock¡¯s so pissed at me. He must have been monitoring the party status screen.


    Ashamed by my actions, I dropped my head like a scolded child. I¡¯d justified cutting ¡®TheGreatestSwordsman¡¯ from the party to myself with the reasoning that he was zeroed out anyway: with a five-year level lock in effect, any combat XP that went his way would have been wasted on him. But CutThroatKeith had been a level 2, and he¡¯d joined me on the promise of a share of the XP. I knew he¡¯d probably be pissed at me for my actions afterwards, but I hadn¡¯t stopped to think what screwing him over could do to the morale of my other troops during the fight.


    Dammit, how could I have been so fucking stupid? I¡¯ve let my greed blind me, and probably lost the warlock¡¯s trust in the process.


    I gave my ally a hurried excuse that was mostly centered around my being completely new to all this. It was hastily followed up with a promise that there would be no more cuts to our numbers unless the individual in question requested or deserved it. Then I made a promise to myself: CutThroatKeith would level up, even if I had to spar with him to grind his skills myself.


    The warlock seemed placated by my words and got to work on his spell, casting ice upon the lethal bone-tipped tendril as it swooped in to attack. The shorter, mutilated limb meanwhile, was now firmly focused on Tiny and Kriabal. The boss had turned its mass to face the slash-happy pair of tanks but seemed frustratingly satisfied to hold position, striking at my rapidly shrinking number of allies with each of its remaining limbs. There was one silver lining, though: the strikes were growing noticeably slower. The enraged buff was clearly wearing off. And that gave me the perfect opportunity to cross the distance between us and bury my blade as deeply into the bastard boss¡¯s hide as my powerful avatar could muster.


    I charged at the advancing mob like a noob with a death wish, praying that my arcane blade would be enough to draw its ire and lead it to my trap. But to my surprise, someone else managed to beat me to it. A sudden blaze of energy erupted from the direction of the balcony, a neon violet fireball that I could only describe as a Street Fighter special. The burst of energy was capped with a wailing face, its trailing hair flailing behind it as the disturbing apparition sailed across the chamber, soaring over our tanks'' heads before bursting against the creatures hide in a flare of energy. A deafening howl confirmed that whatever the bizarre attack had been, it had caused the creature excruciating pain.


    So, the witch did have something impressive hidden up her baggy sleeves, after all. Well done, Agooma, or should I say Akuma. I¡¯m sorry I ever doubted you.


    The old crone smiled a toothy smile, swaying slightly as she half-heartedly proceeded to raise the roof. She looked dead on her feet, an exhausted status that was pretty much confirmed as she unglamorously collapsed to the ground in a heap. She¡¯d drained her stamina channeling so much raw mana at once, but she¡¯d succeeded where the gun mage had failed. There was just too much aggro coming from the direction of the balcony for the land shark to ignore. Finally, the beast began to advance upon the site of our final stand, causing Tiny and Kraitos to retreat the arcane contingent¡¯s position.


    At fucking last.


    ¡°Kriabal, I¡¯m serious, pin that fucking tendril down or we¡¯re done for.¡±


    The warlock cussed me out in a way that reminded me of the conspicuously absent Samusk. Deep down, I knew he was doing his best. The problem was, I needed better.


    ¡°Gunner, keep up those ranged attacks,¡± I cried, rushing to join my arcane ¡®bait¡¯. ¡°Half-orcs, get ready to rain granite down on the ugly bastard. Tiny, Kraitos, the moment the bombardment ends, we need to be ready to hit the thing as hard as we can.¡±


    The axe-wielding half-orc nodded his agreement, letting loose a blood-curdling war-cry that made me glad he was on my side. Tiny grunted, unimpressed with my presumption to order him about.


    ¡°What about us?¡± asked the apprentice, returning to my side with a freshly-healed Medusa and Pandora in tow.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯ve got something left in your mana reserve,¡± I declared, raising my sword to meet the advancing mob. ¡°Because things are about to get bloody.¡±

 Chapter 16.4

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± asked Medusa, expectantly.


    ¡°The half-orcs¡¯ have been stockpiling rocks on the balcony,¡± I explained, pointing up to where my grey-skinned troops lay in wait. ¡°When shit starts to fall, I¡¯m hoping the boss will rear up to counter-attack-¡±


    ¡°Hoping?¡± gasped Kriabal as he limped to my side. ¡°That¡¯s a big fucking assumption to make, lad.¡±


    The older warrior was breathing heavily, and bleeding from several mob-inflicted stab-wounds. For a moment I considered giving him my last health potion, then decided against it. The plan called for tanks¡¯, and I¡¯d likely need an HP boost of my own before the battle was through.


    ¡°Grom¡¯s perception told him that the land shark¡¯s biggest weakness was its underside,¡± I began, addressing all assembled. ¡°But it wouldn¡¯t register as a weak spot unless there was a way to access it, would it? So, to get to the sweet spot, I¡¯m betting that we need to make the big ugly slug look up. That¡¯s where the trap comes in. If the half-orcs¡¯ successfully draw its ire, it¡¯ll have no choice but to rear up and retaliate.¡±


    Medusa agreed with my logic, providing me with some much-appreciated backup. Kriabal however, looked unconvinced.


    ¡°Too many ¡®ifs¡¯ for my likin¡¯,¡± he eventually declared, before conceding: ¡°but I guess it¡¯s the only plan we have, eh?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± I beamed. ¡°Good to know we¡¯re all on the same page.¡± Next, I turned to Kraitos, Gunner and Tiny. ¡°Until the bastard¡¯s in place, that spiked tendril is our top priority. We need to do everything we can to shorten its reach.¡±


    As if summoned, the tendril in question turned its attention from the tanks¡¯ and came swinging right for us. Medusa was the first to move, her impressive speed buff all but guaranteeing her escape. She seized Pandora and yanked the timid swordswoman from the path of the mutilated limb. I quickly realized that it was up to me to do the same for the exhausted warlock. Grabbing a handful of his pauper¡¯s robes I dragged him to the ground, as the tentacle crashed down upon the spot we¡¯d been stood in seconds beforehand.


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to say you¡¯re overweight or anything,¡± I scoffed, rising to dust myself off. ¡°¡­but hauling your ass to safety has finally levelled up my carrying capacity. Thanks for that, mate.¡±


    ¡°Duck, you fool,¡± came a gruff reply.


    Kriabal dragged me back to the floor as the other tendril whooshed overhead. I stared at my would-be executioner, wide-eyed as it swung into the distance for another run at us. Had the warlock not grabbed me, I¡¯d probably have been decapitated. I thanked him and nervously returned to my feet, assessing the chaotic scene. Medusa and Pandora had easily dodged the attack and were readying themselves to attack. I was relieved to learn that the tanks¡¯, barbarians¡¯ and apprentice had done equally well to avoid the creature¡¯s wildly flailing offence. But the gun mage had not been so lucky. His body had been smashed against the chamber wall by the powerful limb, reducing his upper torso to little more than a sticky red pulp.


    Shit. That¡¯s one inventory even I won¡¯t be looting.


    The huge mob just sat there, observing, content to let its wildly swinging tendrils do all the work for it.


    Dammit, move your slovenly ass. I need you under the balcony, you ugly fuck.


    Going against every one of my survival instincts I let loose a roar and rushed the dawdling beast. My blade sparked as I brought the sword down diagonally across my opponent¡¯s impossibly huge fangs. Very little damage was dealt, however. I could feel the heat of the beast¡¯s breath on my weary avatar as the mouth slowly opened to protest my actions, but my attack hadn¡¯t been enough to draw the beast toward me. I struck it again, then again, yet still it didn¡¯t advance: even more frustratingly, the deadlier of the two tentacles twisted to engage my troublesome avatar in its owner¡¯s stead. I spun on my heel, parrying its boney blade as the limb twisted and jutted in a desperate attempt to pierce my unprotected throat. The limb was powerful, but to my relief, it was no swordsman. My skills had been increasing throughout the battle and I easily deflected its attempts to skewer me, opening up multiple wounds in its infuriatingly tough flesh with a flurry of mana-infused swordplay. Bleeding, the snake-like opponent twisted away from me in search of easier prey. It didn¡¯t take long to find it. The warning had only left my throat when another unwelcome status message entered my head.


    -[ User: HarryPothead has died. Magic users remaining under your command: 1 ]-


    That was the moment that the apprentice breathed his last: he¡¯d been stabbed in the back while he toiled to patch up our weary tanks¡¯. Just like that, we¡¯d lost our only healer.


    Despite his wounds, our final magic-user fought on, struggling to encase the slippery limb in blasts of magically-charged ice. But Kriabal was looking increasingly weary, gasping for air like a sixty a day pipe-smoker. His spells grew visibly weaker and failed to find purchase on his powerful target. Our tanks¡¯ on the other hand had finally gotten their second wind. The duo was now going full lumberjack on the boss, hacking furiously into the land shark¡¯s flesh, all in the vain hope of severing the troublesome tendril. But to my horror, they were attacking the wrong one.


    ¡°Kraitos, Tiny, wait! Don¡¯t waste your strength on the shorter limb. We need to prioritize the spiked one. It might be able to reach the balcony.¡±


    ¡°But this one¡¯s almost severed,¡± protested the half-orc, wiping the mob¡¯s tar-like blood from his sweat-drenched brow.


    Unconcerned by my orders, Tiny grunted and continued to swing his axe hard into the boss¡¯s badly split hide. His weapon went deep, and the creature howled in pain.


    ¡°But if we sever it, the bastard is bound to get enraged again,¡± argued Kraitos, hoisting up his axe as he spoke. ¡°I can lead the ugly prick right where we want it.¡±


    Dammit, but we aren¡¯t fucking ready, yet.


    I rushed to intervene, but it was too late. The well-intentioned tank took another hefty swing, severing the shorter tendril from its owner. The mob went apeshit.


    ¡°Now,¡± cried Kraitos, his guttural voice almost drowned out by the enraged land shark¡¯s howls of pain. As the one who¡¯d drawn the beasts aggro, only he could lead it into our trap. And he didn¡¯t hesitate, selflessly rushing to draw it under the balcony. The furious mob began its pursuit, and the tank¡¯s fellow half-orcs¡¯ didn¡¯t waste any time. A shower of granite rained down from above, shattering indiscriminately against boss and chamber floor alike. Once again, I found myself diving for cover.


    As I¡¯d expected, most of the rocks were too small to stand a chance of slowing the beast down. But as a huge spiked shard was toppled over the ledge, I felt hope. The enormous hunk of granite penetrated deep, invoking a howl more pained than any the beast had uttered thus far.


    ¡°Enemy struck for 150HP damage,¡± bellowed the half-orc responsible, echoing the status message he had no doubt received upon committing the act.


    ¡°436HP remaining,¡± added Medusa, for the benefit of those poor noobs¡¯ who couldn¡¯t read the creatures stats (you know, like me).


    I pulled myself onto my knees and surveyed the scene. The boss had reacted exactly as I¡¯d hope it would: enraged, it had lunged forward to chase Kraitos, then instinctively reared up to reach for its overhead attackers. The swordswomen and barbarians were already taking their positions, racing forward to strike at the boss¡¯s vulnerable underbelly. Kraitos was at their lead. With the boss¡¯s aggro shifted to the troops above, he was working himself into a frenzy, burying his bone axes deep into the creature¡¯s vulnerable underside. But that wasn¡¯t all I noticed. Tiny and Skullfucker had vanished. A quick scan of the chamber confirmed that they had dragged Agooma to the sidelines. They seemed content to watch our final push from a ridiculously safe distance.


    Damn that pair. I¡¯ll bet they used ¡®rescuing¡¯ the witch as an excuse to fucking retreat. And now they¡¯re letting us do the dirty work, while they stand back and wait to pick the bones clean.


    ¡°What are you bastards waiting for,¡± I cried, rising to my feet. ¡°This isn¡¯t a fucking spectator sport. Get stuck in!¡±


    ¡°Not bloody likely,¡± came the infuriating reply from the oddly lanky barbarian. Tiny didn¡¯t even answer. He just stood there with arms folded, smirking at me.


    ¡°Good luck polishing off the last four hundred or so HP by yourselves if we all die, then,¡± I yelled back, charging at the beast with my arcane weapon raised.


    I knew that there was still one tendril remaining, the deadly bone-tipped limb that had cut down the apprentice. But I could only pray that Kriabal had it in hand: thanks to Tiny¡¯s treachery I was desperately needed up front. Thus far, Kraitos and Medusa were the only ones making any real impact. Pandora and the two noob barbarians rained down sword-strikes in an attempt to open up the creatures hide, but their basic weapons and their inability to channel mana left a lot to be desired against such a resilient opponent, even when presented with its weak spot. As the only blade-wielding bad-ass who could channel mana into heavy-duty damage (well, the only one who¡¯d bothered to show up, at least) I had a responsibility to get myself up front, and fast.


    I¡¯d almost reached the fight when my path was cut off by Trok¡¯s falling avatar. His muscular grey body dropped from the balcony head-first, his cranium exploding in a wet crimson mess as he forcefully met the unforgiving granite floor. I looked up in horror to witness the tendril responsible sweeping across the balcony, indiscriminately clearing away rubble and bodies alike. A second thud signaled the end of Grimmie. He too had come down with a fatal case of gravity. He wouldn¡¯t be getting up again.


    -[ User: Trok has died. Half-orcs remaining in your war-party: 2 ]-


    -[ User: Grimmie has died. Half-orcs remaining in your war-party: 1 ]-


    Two more icons disappeared from the list of combatants in my war-party, replaced by the worryingly familiar skull and crossbones icon: badges of dishonor earned by a noob leader who had failed to protect his men. Again, I felt a pang of guilt for my earlier actions. How could I even consider cutting the dead to hog the XP? Yes, my remaining fighters currently needed it a lot more than they did: they were respawning in a nice safe cell while it was left to us to battle on. But it wasn¡¯t fair. I resolved to earn my fallen allies as much XP as possible by finishing the job, dismissed the somber status messages, and pushed on.


    I announced my arrival by slicing into the beast¡¯s underside with a mana-infused strike for 30HP of damage. Not too shabby. And my arrival seemed to give the remaining combatants their second wind. Even the pair of reluctant noob barbarians¡¯ were fighting like they actually stood a chance of landing the killing blow. But their rally was frustratingly brief. Without warning, the land shark¡¯s mass began to plummet.


    ¡°Pull back, before you¡¯re all crushed,¡± cried Kraitos, breaking away to retreat. ¡°It¡¯s coming down.¡±


    I knew that Medusa would instinctively pull Pandora from the wall of certain death that now descended upon us, but Kraitos was my chief concern. His avatar was built for strength, not speed. I threw my weight against his bulky avatar, and with a little help, the orcan tank made it clear. Only just. Poor Brawn, however, was not so lucky. Unable to escape in time, the noob barbarian was crushed under the beast¡¯s colossal weight as a sickening crunch announced his undignified end.


    -[ User: Brawn has died. Barbarians remaining under your command: 0 ]-


    Watching his fellow noob leak out from under our hulking opponent did absolutely nothing for the morale of Tiny¡¯s pressganged barbarian recruit. He gave an emphatic ¡®fuck this¡¯ and scrambled to his treacherous master¡¯s side, leaving our rapidly shrinking group to contend with the fallout.


    I turned to Medusa. She was holding Pandora in a tight embrace as if she¡¯d almost lost the most important thing in the world to her. Seconds later, she almost did, as I barely parried the bastard tendril in time to prevent it from skewering their avatars. Satisfied that the balcony was now cleared, it had returned to finish us off, almost bagging itself a two-for-one special to announce its arrival. That near miss was our weary groups wake-up call. Kraitos returned to severing duty, while Medusa Pandora and I formed a protective circle around him, desperate to keep the flailing stinger at bay while he worked to sever it at the root.


    ¡°The balcony troops,¡± groaned Kriabal, staggering over to join our defensive line. ¡°I failed them-¡±


    ¡°Join the club,¡± I spat back. ¡°You can help me make it up to them, but later. For now, I need your head back in the game and your ice magic weighing down that fucking tendril.¡±


    He nodded and began to charge his staff. As the tentacle came in for another strike, things were looking increasingly bleak. I could really use a lucky break. My oddly inactive luck stat must have finally agreed, because as I lunged to stab at the advancing tendril my arcane sword penetrated it, skewering the limb just below its own boney blade. Calling on my 7 points of strength I began to twist the tendril to the ground, ordering Kriabal to hurry the fuck up and freeze it to the floor before it slipped free. But to my horror, no ice was forthcoming. The knackered old coot was gone.


    ¡°Up there,¡± cried Pandora, pointing to the rope ladder. Kriabal was climbing to the balcony, and he¡¯d almost reached the top.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± I gasped, struggling to hold the thrashing mob in place as I cranked my head to address him.


    ¡°Keep that thing busy,¡± he cried back. ¡°I¡¯m goin¡¯ fer the ice attack.¡±


    ¡°I needed you down here, you stupid git.¡±


    ¡°Sorry boss, I have¡¯ta put things right. Gonna rain a small ice storm down on the bastard.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re spent,¡± protested Medusa. ¡°You can barely stand.¡±


    ¡°No worries,¡± he called back. ¡°I¡¯ve been gifted some mana¡­¡± he glanced across the chamber to the equally weary-looking witch, throwing her a wink. ¡°Should be enough to get the job done. But it¡¯s up to you to make sure this counts, swords-noob. Next time the fucker rears up, shove that bloody blade of yours right through the underbelly and into its damn heart.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± I replied, trying my best to sound like that was going to be super-easy and that we weren¡¯t all totally screwed. Because you know, morale. Secretly though, I was pissed. First Kraitos had ignored my orders, and now it was Kriabal who was going rogue. Yes, his plan might actually work, I¡¯ll admit that. But how was I supposed to level up my leadership if everyone kept running around doing their own thing? Slavery really was the way forward, I mused.


    I ordered Kraitos and the swordswomen to open up a can of whoop-ass on the struggling tendril before it had a chance to pull free. Between the orcan tank¡¯s axes and Medusa¡¯s epic sword, they made short work of the slender tip, quickly severing the shard of bone that had caused us so much trouble.


    As the lethal tip of the tendril fell to the ground, the bloody limb desperately tried to jerk itself free of my hold. My arms felt like they were about to explode, and with good reason: I was basically arm-wrestling a boss. But I held my ground. And the system seemed to recognize that, because¡­


    -[ You have acquired one additional base point in strength. Rank has increased to 7. XP required to reach rank 8: N/A, cap reached. Recommendation: Increasing your swordsman level will raise your strength cap. ]-


    Hot damn. I thought I was still on 5. I must have gained another level from the group XP bonus. Having big strapping half-orcs¡¯ in my war-party is seriously paying dividends.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go join the warlock,¡± announced said big strapping half-orc, pulling me from my thoughts. I gave him a look that was intended to communicate ¡®the hell you are, help me hold this bastard down.¡¯ Sensing my reluctance to let him go he replied: ¡°I¡¯m a lot stronger than those other two half-orcs¡¯ were. Perhaps I can topple one of those god-awful golden statues and bring it down on the ugly shit.¡±


    I conceded to Kraitos logic and redoubled my effort to keep the wounded tendril down, giving thanks that my strength increase had made the task noticeably easier. Throughout the exchange, the swordswomen had continued to do their damnedest to rob the limb of its deadly reach, hacking away at its vulnerable flesh a little further down its length.


    Three sword-wielders vs a soon-to-be-enraged land shark, I thought to myself, as Kraitos began to climb. All I have to do is land the deathblow on the fucker who could probably inhale me as quickly as he could look at me. No pressure, then.


    There was a whoop of joy from behind me as Medusa finally severed a larger length of the tendril. The amputated section fell slack in my arms as the mutilated limb pulled away and made its break for freedom. We all turned in unison to follow its frenzied path, and then my heart sank.


    ¡°No, no, no!¡± I cried, powerless to intervene.


    What happened next, I watched as if in slow motion. The heavily bleeding tendril lashed out and struck the warlock, knocking him clear of the rope ladder. He flailed through the air like a rag doll, with nothing but the hard stone to break his fall. Along with everything else. The sound his body made as it hit the floor was sickening, but watching our plan fall apart before my very eyes? Even more so.


    Undeterred, Kraitos powered on, scaling the rope ladder and quickly hauling himself up onto the balcony.


    ¡°Attack!¡± I cried, turning to my fellow sword-wielders¡¯. ¡°Do whatever you can to draw that thing¡¯s attention. Don¡¯t give it an opportunity to take down Kraitos like it did Kriabal.¡±


    The swordswomen nodded and followed my lead. We rushed in unison to assault the creature¡¯s unguarded flank, letting loose a flurry of swordplay that the overgrown mob couldn¡¯t hope to ignore. I hit the creature hard, slicing away my opponent¡¯s life energy like a madman, then depositing the freshly earned mana into my blade. Meanwhile, Medusa and Pandora relied on precision, targeting the many blinking eyes that littered the creatures hide. With each of us competing to draw the beast¡¯s aggro, I was oddly relieved when the haggard tendril picked me as its target. I had the best defense of our tiny group by far: if anyone could take a strike from the flailing limb, it was me.


    As my potential death sailed toward me, I heard a mighty crash from above. It had to be the statue toppling. Knowing that the plan was finally back on I fought all the harder, doing my best to strike a balance between building my mana reserve and doing enough damage to draw aggro, relying on my bracers and Nyx¡¯s armor to absorb as much of the damage as possible.


    The standoff continued with an occasional successful strike from my enemy, but my armor took the brunt of the damage. As I fought, Medusa and Pandora continued to blind every blinking eye within their reach. Then like divine intervention, the golden deity¡¯s face finally began to peek over the ledge. The face was almost comical as it slowly slid into view. I silently prayed all that all of that axe swinging had power-leveled my friend¡¯s strength to the task and fought on to keep my enemy distracted.


    I was starting to believe that we actually had a chance of winning again. So of course, that was when things took a turn for the worse. The boss¡¯s panoramic view of the lair must have alerted it to the movements occurring above. Deciding that the things hacking away at its sides were little more than an annoyance in comparison to the damage that may come from above, the tendril suddenly pulled away from me. It reached overhead, its tip disappearing from my view as it slid over the balcony. Seconds later, I received the status message that I¡¯d been dreading.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    -[ User: Kraitos has died. Half-orcs¡¯ remaining in your war-party: 0 ]-


    Aw crap no! This fucker¡¯s little flourishes of intelligence are really starting to piss me off.


    When the tendril returned it was with the limp body of my orcan friend hanging from its bloody grip. The bastard thing had crushed the tank¡¯s windpipe. He hadn¡¯t stood a chance. I stared in horror at the mob¡¯s grotesque trophy, brooding on my failure. Deep down, I knew that it had been our inexperience that had caused the builder¡¯s death: we hadn¡¯t amputated enough of the tendril, leaving it with a reach that was still more than capable of attacking the balcony. The mistake had cost our ally dearly. But I could at least console myself with the builder¡¯s earlier words: he¡¯d gained a lot more from this battle than he¡¯d lost. It was now up to me to earn him a little more.


    ¡°I¡¯m going up on the balcony,¡± I declared, sheathing my sword.


    The announcement drew a pair of bewildered looks, not least because I would be leaving the two lower-level swordswomen to fend off a level 4 boss by themselves. When I explained my intentions (to finish what Kraitos had started and not to, you know, hide) the declaration was met with nervous nods of understanding. That concern was immediately escalated, as a cry of warning was let loose from Pandora. I turned, albeit too late. The next sensation I experienced was one of searing pain. The flailing tendril caught me square in the face, breaking my nose, leaving me floored and stunned.


    -[ Land shark¡¯s tentacle bludgeons you for -40 damage. ]-


    Owwwww! Thank the gods we severed the sharp end, or I¡¯d be little more than a gory blade-decoration, by now.


    A quick check of my status menu confirmed that one-third of my energy bar had been taken by the strike. It was worrying to think that the creature could deliver so much damage with just one blow despite my armor buffs. It was only the frenzied nature of the attack that saved me. Once content to play the long game and strike out with accuracy, the beast was now indiscriminately lashing out in pain. And judging by its immediate switch to the swordswomen, it was trying to injure as many of us as possible with its limited resources.


    I stumbled back to my feet, but the dazed debuff did its best to hold me back. I felt slow and heavy, as if my avatar was being weighed down by too many pieces of armor. A foggy glance around me drew yet more concern: the battlefield was getting worryingly empty. That made me an even more obvious target for the remaining tendril, even with the swordswomen doing their damnedest to draw its ire until I recovered. We needed more bodies to overwhelm the land shark¡¯s solitary limb. So, like a bastard, I summoned one. I called out to my recently respawned slave, ordering him to once again draw the beast¡¯s attention. Unable to resist my command he ran to my aid. To my surprise though, this time he was joined by three others.


    So, he¡¯s recruited a few zeroed decoys of his own, eh? What did you promise them in return, you sneaky little git?


    Oh well, whatever the savvy dwarf was offering, I sure as hell wasn¡¯t complaining about the extra help. Speaking of help¡­ I turned my attention to our so-called ¡®allies¡¯.


    ¡°Any time you axe-holes¡¯ feel like tagging in, feel free to join us,¡± I yelled, goading Tiny and his pair of turncoat barbarians. My attempts to drive them into action were not successful, however. Worse, Agooma was lying bleeding on the floor at the tank¡¯s feet, suggesting that her own attempts to rejoin the battle had not met with her master¡¯s approval. That was when my blood really began to boil.


    Turn that anger to the task at hand, I told myself. Level up now. You can teach the bastard barbarian a lesson later.


    Samusk and his helpers had finally reached us. They circled the mob, desperately attempting to distract the final tendril. With my blade sheaved, I can¡¯t have looked much different from the other weaponless prisoners, from the mob¡¯s perspective at least. And the fact that I wasn¡¯t running around the place begging for a stabbing like the others could only work in my favor. But I knew the distraction wouldn¡¯t last for long.


    I told Medusa and Pandora to sheath their own weapons and retreat to recharge their stamina. Then I began to stumble toward the balcony, cursing the brain-fog caused by my dazed debuff. As I clasped the rope ladder to steady myself, I looked back over my shoulder. I was just in time to witness a bald-headed dwarf as he succeeded in his attempts to draw the beast¡¯s attention. Intercepted by the final tendril, he earned a brutal strike to the neck for his efforts, draining his tiny HP bar instantly.


    Someone else I owe a favor, then.


    I turned my back on the brutal scene and awkwardly began to haul myself up the ladder. I was only halfway up when yet another scream rang out below me. This time though, the voice belonged to a woman. Panicked, I looked down on the squirming mass of monster below and was relieved to learn that it had been another zero and not one of my sword-wielding allies who had met their bloody end. I had to give Samusk credit: it had been savvy of him to recruit others to aid him in his task. If he hadn¡¯t, we¡¯d almost certainly both be dead by now.


    As the debuff finally faded (and another anonymous zero cried out in pain somewhere below me) I hauled myself up onto the stone balcony and surveyed the chamber below. Then I turned to the task at hand.


    The balcony had more depth than I¡¯d first realized, and I was impressed by the distance Kraitos had hauled the statue before his untimely death. The herculean act must have totally maxed out his strength stat (and bolstered my own in the process... the extra XP from the leadership stat truly was a godsend). But for now, I had more immediate concerns than stats. Chiefly, a huge metal statue that needed to be tossed over the ledge and onto the enemy below. Simple, eh? I got behind the base of the statue and pushed with everything I had.


    Fuck, that¡¯s heavy. Is it possible to give yourself a back injury in this game? I wondered? Given the rate at which I¡¯d been accumulating damage since I got here, I suspected that the answer was a firm ¡®yes¡¯. Oh well, just one more in a long list of injuries, then.


    My body began to complain as I strained and struggled to push the golden deity further over the ledge. It was easily ten foot in height, an already about a quarter of the way past the ledge. If I could just get it halfway, I knew that gravity would do the rest. The effort required though, was insane: my stamina bar was dropping at an alarming rate, and my straining muscles felt like they were getting ready to burst. As yet uneducated in the limits of my mana manipulation skill, I attempted to push my remaining MP into my hands for a much-needed strength boost, but it was to no avail. If such things were possible, I didn¡¯t have either the skills or knowledge to accomplish them. Yet. The barbarian sword had been made to channel mana. My calloused hands clearly hadn¡¯t.


    A scream from below pressed the urgency of my task. It was immediately followed by another disheartening message.


    -[ Your slave ¡®Samusk¡¯ has died. Again. You really should be more careful with your property. Time until respawn: Five minutes. ]-


    What the hell? Even my status bot is giving me attitude, now?


    I was relieved that the scream hadn¡¯t come from either Medusa or Pandora. But it meant that the last distraction was gone. That all but guaranteed that my allies would be the land shark¡¯s next target. They would rush back into battle to ensure that the boss remained under the balcony. That thought spurred me into action and a burning sensation shot through my back and arms as I forced the golden god toward his fate. Metal scraped against stone, resisting me with every push. My stamina continued to plummet. But with one final heft, the metallic god finally stopped teetering on the edge and fell.


    -[ Through an impressive feat you have gained one additional base point in strength and another in stamina. Error: strength cap reached. Recommendation: Increasing your swordsman level will raise your strength cap. ]-


    ¡°Incoming!¡± I yelled with my last gasp of breath, collapsing in a heap the moment the gaudy golden statue disappeared from my view. I was too exhausted to crawl to the ledge and witness the end result, but a status message told me everything I needed to know.


    -[ Enemy struck for -180HP damage. ]-


    The beast below howled in agony. Knowing I¡¯d caused it was extremely satisfying.  The second scream, however, was not a welcome one. I tried to lift myself and rush to the ledge, but my stamina was spent. It was all I could do to pull myself to the edge and gaze down upon the scene below. That was when I realized that my luck had run out. The now fallen god must have rolled from the boss¡¯s curved back, crashing down beside it. This wouldn¡¯t have been an issue, but for the fact that Pandora was stood next to it, at the time. She¡¯d survived: her screams were evidence enough of that. But her legs were completely crushed, leaving the swordswoman pinned to the ground, bleeding and unable to retreat. A panicked Medusa was at her side, desperately attempting to assist.


    -[ Would you like to reallocate your unused strength point to another skill? As this is a full base point, the 50% penalty will not apply. ]-


    ¡­chimed in my status bot.


    Yes, but piss off, I¡¯m kinda distracted right now.


    -[ Reallocation delayed. Warning: base point shall be forfeit if not redistributed within 24 hours. ]-


    Just as I¡¯d expected, the huge beast bore up in a futile attempt to reach me. But Medusa wasn¡¯t there to take advantage: she was completely fixated on Pandora, gagging her partner¡¯s screams in the hope that the vulnerable fighter would go unnoticed.


    ¡°We only have a short window before that thing loses interest in me and comes crashing down again,¡± I cried, desperately attempting to get my ally¡¯s attention. ¡°I know Pandora needs help, but we won¡¯t stand a chance of saving her unless you get your ass back in the fight-¡±


    Medusa either chose to ignore me, or she wasn¡¯t registering my words. The warrior was lost in her own crumbling world. She struggled to roll the statue from her fellow fighter, but I knew its weight all too well. It wasn¡¯t going anywhere. I continued to demand her attention. Eventually, she responded.


    ¡°She¡¯s dying, you asshole.¡±


    ¡°Medusa, we-¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand! She¡¯s all I fucking have. I can¡¯t let her zero out. We were supposed to leave this prison together.¡±


    I cursed the missed opportunity that was slipping through our fingers in front of me. And that was when I noticed the tendril. It came lashing over the stonework, and in my exhausted state, I barely dodged it in time. Predictably, the thing had sent the tentacle to find the one responsible for its pain.


    I needed to buy more time for Medusa, in the hope that she would get over the shock and pull herself together. I pulled my assassins dagger from my ankle-strap and threw it at the creature, praying that my small amount of luck would help it find purchase in one of the creatures many eye sockets. The sliver of steel struck its soft blinking target, further angering the beast and leveling up my accuracy in the process.


    That¡¯ll piss it off some more, I reckon. Whether that equates into more attack time though, is anyone¡¯s guess.


    Exhausted, I awaited my inevitable bludgeoning, throttling or whatever else the snaking limb could possibly have in store for me. I had resigned myself to the fact that I was about to hear a status message announcing further death. Unexpectedly, it wasn¡¯t my own.


    -[ User: Kriabal has died. Magic users remaining under your command: 0 ]-


    -[ Warning: Your entire war-party has died. ]-


    Rub it in, why don¡¯t you? But hang on, what? Didn¡¯t Kriabal die already?


    A quick scan of the battleground below revealed that the tough old bastard had crawled back to the rope ladder to assist me. His injuries were too great and ultimately, he¡¯d bled out in the attempt. But his death had granted an unexpected side-effect.


    -[ Last man standing buff activated. Mana +20. Stamina +20. 20% bonus to all stats for 1 minute. ]-


    I looked at my stamina bar. It was barely a quarter full.


    It ain¡¯t much, but I¡¯ll take it.


    I glanced at the agonized Pandora, trapped under the fallen god. Then to the Huddled zeros at the other end of the room who were depending on me. ¡®Endure this today, for a more comfortable tomorrow¡¯, I¡¯d told them. Cursing those words, I pulled my weary avatar back to its feet, charged my arcane blade with mana as I did so. Then I raised my bracers to protect my head and threw myself over the balcony, sending my avatar crashing into the stonework below.


    -[ You have been injured in a serious fall... ]-


    Owwwwww! No shit¡­


    -[ ¡­which would have been fatal if not for your luck and resilience. Your left arm has been broken in two places¡­ ]-


    Oh, I wondered why it was facing the wrong way. Thank-you, captain fucking obvious!


    -[ ¡­costing you -50HP. Warning: you have lost the ability to actively carry more than one item. Warning: Defense provided by bracers has been halved. ]-


    I was in agony. And I was down to 25HP was gone, just like that. I¡¯d give anything for a health elixir or a healer, right now. But having either, I would have to get creative. I desperately wanted to increase my perception, but that wasn¡¯t going to keep me alive. So I took the gamble of re-allocating my unused base point into a new category: healing. The status announcement proclaimed that I now healed naturally at twice my previous speed and that healing potions were now 20% more effective. It wasn¡¯t really the boost that I¡¯d hoped for: even with my recovery time halved, it would still take hours for me to naturally recharge, and I couldn¡¯t imagine that my opponent would be prepared to wait.


    Dammit. Oh well, it¡¯ll be a boost worth having in the long run, at least.


    Ignoring the pain, I dragged myself to my feet and stepped over the crimson barbarian pancake that had once been Brawn, aiming my blade straight for one of the existing wounds in the creature¡¯s underside. I had no idea where to find the heart: land shark anatomy wasn¡¯t exactly my specialty. But I reasoned that after the statue incident, I was surely due a little luck again. Alas, I quickly learned that my luck had most definitely run out. Although my blade struck deep, it must have missed every one of the boss¡¯s vital organs, dealing it a paltry -25HP damage.


    Seriously? That¡¯s it?


    I tried to withdraw my weapon for another attempt, but whatever inner working I¡¯d struck, the blade was now stuck fast.


    Oh, fuck no.


    The beast began to drop, leaving me with little choice but to relinquish my sword and dive for cover. It pained me to leave the powerful weapon behind, but it was nothing compared to the pain I would know if the bastard fell on me.


    Yet more pain shot through my mangled arm as I landed hard on the unforgiving floor. But I wasn¡¯t the only one howling in agony. The boss had brought its full weight down upon my weapon, and the arcane blade hadn¡¯t shattered. The creature¡¯s anatomy was tough, but the unforgiving stone floor even more so, driving the upturned sword deep into the beast¡¯s vulnerable underside.


    -[ Your well-laid trap has used the land shark¡¯s momentum against it, dealing -125 HP damage. ]-


    -[ Level up! This was a strategy worthy of a master swordsman. Sword-skills +1. ]-


    Are you fucking kidding me? Whatever higher power hands out the XP around here seems to think that I left my blade in the enemy¡¯s stomach deliberately. I sure as hell wasn¡¯t complaining, mind. I¡¯d robbed my opponent of 125HP through a damned fluke. There was still one pressing concern, however. My arcane blade was now buried deep within the boss¡¯s anatomy. I needed to get my hands on another weapon, and fast.


    Of course, I wasn¡¯t the only one looking to finish the job. The land shark was equally keen to dispatch the waning thorn in its side. A blur of flesh was sweeping toward me. It was that battered bastard tendril. With only my bracers to deflect the blow, I raised a single arm to block, cursing the other as it hung limply by my side. I was pretty much consigned to my respawn when a second flurry of movement ambushed the first, intercepting the mob in a flash of steel. Medusa parried the blow, risking her life to draw aggro, and saving my own in the process. Relief washed over me, but I didn¡¯t even get the opportunity to thank her. She was distracted, her attention split between the flailing limb and Pandora¡¯s wellbeing. I tried to rush to Pandora¡¯s side, to ease her concerns and leave her free to fight. But it was too late: devoid of mana and badly injured herself, the swordswoman was easily overwhelmed. The Blade of Swiftness was knocked from her grasp. Given her lack of armor, what followed was inevitable. Her broken avatar convulsed in the tentacle¡¯s grip then fell to the ground, its rib-cage completely crushed.


    Dead. Just like that, another ally was gone. For Pandora¡¯s sake, I had to make her death count for something. I owed her that much. And to do that, I needed to get my hands on her sword.


    The swinging tendril attempted to catch me off guard, but I¡¯d thankfully regained a little stamina. I dodged the blow, but only barely. As it sailed overhead, I dove for the discarded blade, cursing as I landed on my mangled, useless arm. But the fingers of my other hand found purchase on the hilt of the epic-class weapon. I swore to avenge the gutsy swordswoman and to save her companion. Then I cursed some more when I realized its mana supply was completely empty.


    Crap!


    Worse, I had no precious mana to feed it: I¡¯d stockpiled all of my own mana into my precious arcane blade, and that was currently buried somewhere deep within the creature¡¯s underside. The tendril was upon me before I could drag myself to my feet. I fought from my back, weakly fighting off the flailing limb, but delivering little damage, and losing a further 10HP  in return. Beyond my wildly lashing opponent I spied SkullFucker, and for a moment I thought that the worthless barbarian had finally grown a pair and decided to rejoin the fight. But that hope was short-lived. He was merely dishing out orders to the rabble¡¯s zeros¡¯.


    What the fuck is he playing at? If those are my reinforcements, I¡¯m screwed.


    The rabble¡¯s zeros came running toward us, and for a moment I thought it might be the distraction I needed. But when they charged past me and began to cluster around the rope ladder leading up to the balcony, I realized that I was the distraction for them.


    If this is karma getting me back for using their mates as a diversion, I guess I kinda deserve it. But do they honestly think they¡¯ll be safe hiding up there? Didn¡¯t they see what happened to the half-orcs¡¯?


    Whatever they were up to, I couldn¡¯t let them distract me. Not while this bastard thing was threatening to knock my final few HP out of me. A lucky strike caused it to retreat for a moment, granting me a scrap of much-needed mana that I hastily banked, but it would be nowhere near enough to sever the troublesome tendril.


    As it reared up, I readied myself for the next attack but without warning, rocks began to rain down from above. They were small, bouncing off the creature¡¯s thick leather hide like droplets of rain bouncing off a well-weathered umbrella. Then I heard a familiar, distinctive voice. It was Gary, and he was shouting orders to the others, demanding that they put their backs into it if they hoped to escape the chamber on their own terms.


    The crazy bastards are trying to draw aggro.


    A hail of granite continued to fall, but the blows it dealt were weak. The issue was that the rabble were all operating as individuals, and Gary told them as much, demanding that they pool their strength and band together to lift one of the larger stones. I watched the tendril swing hypnotically a few yards from my broken avatar, as if trying to determine its chief priority. Seconds later the decision was made for it as a slightly more substantial chunk of granite was hurled over the edge and onto the creature¡¯s back. It didn¡¯t deliver a fraction of the damage dealt by the statue, or even come close to the earlier attack by Trok. But the creature now had much less HP to spare, making the annoyance much more pressing. Determining the overhead attackers to be the greater threat, the land shark reared up once more, determined to face its assailants. And with an equal amount of effort, I pulled myself back to my feet, cursing the pain that ran through my mangled limb.


    A more sensitive individual might have been pissed that the boss considered this pack of level zero workers to be the greater threat, but I sure as hell wasn¡¯t complaining. Of course the rabble didn¡¯t stand a chance as the tendril began to sweep the balcony clean. But that didn¡¯t concern me. What did concern me, was that I now I had an opening. And Tiny sensed it, too.


    ¡°Attack,¡± he bellowed, stirring his two barbarian followers to action.


    Shit. They weren¡¯t trying to save me. They were just drawing its attention for their asshole boss. If that bastard thinks he¡¯s going to swoop in and steal my kill, he¡¯s got another thing coming.


    Thankful for the little stamina I¡¯d regained I ignored the falling bodies and charged at the boss, thrusting the mildly-empowered Blade of Swiftness into the beast with as much force as I could muster.


    -[ You have cut the land shark for -15HP damage. ]-


    You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. I know my mana is low, but that¡¯s just pitiful.


    The bodies had stopped falling so I instinctively turned to check for the tendril, fearful of it turning its attention to Pandora, or glancing me and robbing me of my last 15HP. To my relief, it had moved to intercept Tiny and his crew, halting their advance and buying me precious time to press my own attack. I began hacking at the creature¡¯s underside, but I was weary and lacking mana, so my blows were frustratingly weak. I was really getting a lesson on the benefits of owning a powerful sword. So with that, I decided that it was about time I took mine back. I sheathed the blade of swiftness and thrust my hand into the oozing wound left by my arcane blade, forcing my hand underneath the creature¡¯s leathery skin. Grasping the hilt, I gave thanks that the weapon felt loose. Whatever it had become embedded in earlier must have snapped when it was suddenly thrust deeper by the unforgiving stone. With a heft, I withdrew the sword from the boss¡¯s body like Arthur pulling Excalibur from an insanely gross stone. Its power hadn¡¯t faded. And it felt damn good.


    Tiny and his men were still slicing HP from the last tendril, so technically the killing blow was anyone¡¯s to take. But I was in the best position by far to do the most damage. It was now or never. I drew back the blade and-


    -[ You have been gifted 100MP by Agooma. ]-


    What? Thank the gods.


    The old witch had powered me up, just as she¡¯d done for Kriabal, earlier. I checked the blade¡¯s mana count. It was full to the brim. Now that was one handy trick. And it very telling that she had chosen to use it on me rather than her own leader. I decided that I owed her a beer.


    Hell, if this works, I owe her a whole damn keg.


    Praying that the boss would be kind enough to drop a six-pack upon its much-desired death I flashed the witch a quick smile and poured the mana into my blade. The runes glowed blue as the power was hungrily absorbed.


    Tiny cried out in pain somewhere behind me. I turned to see him lying on the ground nursing his leg, trying his best to stand but failing miserably. SkullFucker and the other barbarian were nervously hanging back, ¡®protecting¡¯ their master as the tendril attempted to finish the job.


    My kill, not yours¡­ I thought to myself.


    I hastily picked an already weakened spot and drove my blade deep into the boss¡¯s underside. I¡¯d maxed my strength since the last time I¡¯d tried to punch the arcane blade through the bastard¡¯s hide, and the mana made my job all the easier. The supercharged weapon sank deep into the creature and my status bot proclaimed¡­


    -[ You have struck the land shark for 75HP damage. ]-


    The howl was unlike the ones I¡¯d heard earlier. The creature¡¯s cries had once been defiant. Guttural. Pissed off. This, however, was a cry to be pitied. Little more than a gradually fading whimper. I withdrew my weapon and pulled back, just in time to avoid being crushed by the falling mob. But this time, the tendril did not rush in for vengeance. The beast lay completely still. And in my head, a fanfare sounded.


    -[ Congratulations: you have dispatched a powerful boss. Your war-party have reclaimed this territory from a deadly infestation. Tales will be told of your bravery. ]-


    -[ Special award: you have defeated your first monster. New trait earned, monster slayer. ]-


    Yes. About fucking time.


    -[ Special achievement alert: you have landed the killing blow upon a creature that was over one hundred times your superior. This is a heroic act. Rep +3. Special achievement bonus: one skill level will be added to all primary and secondary skills and traits. ]-


    Wow!


    -[ Level up! You are now a level 5 swordsman. XP remaining until next level is unlocked: 92. Max HP +20. Max MP +20. ]-


    -[ Level up! You are now a level 4 thief. XP remaining until next level is unlocked: 98. Max HP +10. Max MP +10. ]-


    -[ Level up! The slaveowner trait has reached level 2. XP remaining until next level is unlocked: 16. Max HP +10. Max MP +10. ]-


    -[ Channeling the life energy of a boss is no easy feat. You have gained one additional base point in mana manipulation. Rank has increased to 3. XP required to reach rank 4: 52. Max MP +40. ]-


    I was stunned speechless by the flurry of rewards. And yet they kept on coming.


    -[ Your arcane blade has absorbed the soul of a powerful enemy. Weapon up! 20% more damage will be delivered per strike. MP capacity has been doubled. Your blade is now mildly sentient and has gained the ability to regulate its own mana use. ]-


    -[ Special raid bonus: You are the raid MVP. Leadership +2. ]-


    -[ Boss bonus: Max HP +100. ]-


    -[ You have gained four unallocated base points, one for each level possessed by your defeated enemy. Spend them wisely. ]-


    And then, finally, came the cherry on top¡­


    -[ First kill bonus: All gains from this kill have been doubled. ]-


    Ho-leee shit! All this time I¡¯d been cursing my inability to land my first kill. Now it was paying dividends. Life in the prison was about to get interesting.