Chapter 5
I canceled the lease on the apartment by the park and got a refund of 100 credits, making me suddenly flush with cash. Fifty of those credits I gave to Rick for the spare room in their apartment. They insisted on having me, and I saw no reason to say no. These guys, I¡¯ll admit, they weren¡¯t the sort of folks I would hang with in the real world, but I liked them, and I think they liked me too. Later, we were back at Anchor¡¯s, taking in the first round of beers. Everyone was waiting for the next quarterfinal in the Battle Clash, but before that was on, the jukebox ruled supreme, playing tunes that were right up my alley¡ªStones, Creedence, and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Proper music, that was.
Rick and the others taught me more about the leveling system of the game. One way to make massive level jumps was to join in tournaments, where the Battle Clash was the main event. It was tiered so lower levels could join and fight each other; it wasn¡¯t televised, but it was good XP, and the loot was phenomenal. Other ways to gain XP were regular dungeon diving and farming harder and harder dungeons. That was the safe route¡ªyou always knew what you would face. There were maps to buy where the best dungeons to farm were marked and what level mobs one would face in there. That was the slowest way, though. Next to tournaments, campaigns were the best way of gaining XP fast, but a campaign could hold you occupied for weeks. You had to sleep out in the open, uncomfortable on the ground, trekking hazardous routes, some even going up into the snowcapped mountains. For that, you needed to gather a party. All XP was shared, as was the loot. High-level campaigns dropped legendary artifacts and, sometimes, even mythical ones, which were more than golden because the number one way to speed-level was to get your hands on a weapon or artifact that was far above your character level and use that to plow through content, racking up XP and loot. The guys often got bogged down in those fantasies, opening a box and out popped a Mythical Sword of Burning. It could happen, they said, but the odds of it were oh, so small.
I was concerned with another matter entirely.
¡°Why are you guys doing this?¡±
¡°Why?¡± Michael asked. ¡°Because it¡¯s Dungeons and Dragons, but for real. Why wouldn¡¯t we do it? You know there¡¯s a dragon up in those mountains. It¡¯s Aeon, the Red Dragon of the East. Just like that. A dragon, circling a mountain. We can go up there and encounter a draaagon. I can¡¯t understand why everyone isn¡¯t in here.¡±
¡°Well, for starters,¡± Rick said. ¡°The NeuroNexus machines we got aren¡¯t the ones that are retailed at the stores.¡±
¡°Let me guess,¡± I said. ¡°You bought from a bum waiting outside the store?¡±
¡°Yeah, everyone did. That hey-misser! guy. For some reason, it seems important for those running this show that a certain kind of people play the game.¡±
¡°Seems like it. What I want to know is why. Why are we the ones chosen to play the game, and for what reason?¡±
¡°You won¡¯t get answers until much later in the game, and I don¡¯t think you ever will get all of them. We¡¯re chosen to play this game for a reason, yes. I, too, want to know why. What we¡¯re using to play is pure future tech. Anyone with half a brain and at least a grain of curiosity wants to know why this is happening and why we¡¯re the ones doing it.¡±
I nodded. Rick pretty much nailed down my own reasons to be here.
¡°I don¡¯t understand why this isn¡¯t a bigger thing,¡± I said. ¡°The game¡¯s been advertised for months, and even if they haven¡¯t sold that many consoles yet, people have them already. We¡¯re proof of that. Why isn¡¯t this causing worldwide panic? Why isn¡¯t anyone talking about it?¡±
¡°Well, why aren¡¯t you talking about it?¡± Rick asked.
That left me dumbfounded. Yes, why hadn¡¯t I been calling the press and the police and the CIA when discovering what my video game actually was? Because¡ it had me enthralled, and I wanted to discover what secrets it held. If I brought it to the police, it would be taken away from me and end up in Area 51 or a place like that. The mere thought of losing the console made me itch with panic inside.
¡°It¡¯s weird,¡± Michael said. ¡°I tried to show it to my best friend, but it was like his brain didn¡¯t register the otherworldly qualities of the machine. He thought it was cool-looking, but that was the only reaction I got from him. I asked him if he thought it looked anything like the machines down at the mall, those with the plastic helmets. He was like, yeah, maybe it looks a bit different. Maybe you got a European machine or something? It¡¯s like the brains of normies just blank when they look at it.¡±
¡°Did you let him try it?¡± Mort asked.
¡°Yeah, and the most obvious thing happened. It didn¡¯t start up.¡±
Michael was silent for a while before saying:
¡°I¡¯m not aiming at toppling Raker Toth as Mayor. I don¡¯t have it in me, but what I can do is grind, grind, grind, and slowly rise through the levels. You will never see me on TV, fighting in the Battle Clash. Most of those guys get snuffed out; too much brawn and too little brain. That¡¯s not my way.¡±
¡°Yes,¡± Mort agreed. ¡°It¡¯s brains, not brawn, that will win in the end, that much I¡¯m sure of.¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± I said, but my mind was already wandering.
It had stopped at toppling the Mayor. That was the highest station a player could achieve, and if there were answers to get, the Mayor would have them.
¡°So, there¡¯s no one in the game that is higher than the Mayor?¡± I asked, just to get it confirmed.
Rick tilted his head and shot out his lower lip.
¡°Hmm, maybe. Did Alara tell you about the Golden Ones?¡±
I shook my head.
¡°Strange. That lady seems to have a different script every time. You need to know about the Golden Ones.¡±
¡°So, tell me.¡±
¡°If you haven¡¯t noticed, I¡¯m in the process of it. The Golden Ones aren¡¯t NPCs, but they aren¡¯t players either. You¡¯ll recognize them through the golden aura surrounding them. It¡¯s not blatantly obvious unless you share a dark space with one of them, and pray you never will.¡±
¡°Dangerous?¡±
¡°Could be. The other thing that sets them apart is that they have their names displayed, but their level indicator shows only ---. Some say that indicates they were once players but hit level 100 and were ascended to another realm. If you ask me, I think that¡¯s the most obvious explanation. The creepy thing about the Golden Ones, though, is that we, the players, are to them what NPCs are to the Mayor. Toys. They can kill any one of us on the spot without any repercussions. So, never talk back to one of them; try to never even be seen by one of them¡ªbecause who knows what whims can pass through their minds. To us, they are digital gods, and gods can be cruel.¡±
¡°Shit. That is important information.¡±
¡°It is. And if one were ever to come into Anchor¡¯s, you simply can¡¯t do what you did when Vinger provoked you. You need to keep your mouth shut and your eyes lowered.¡±
A silence followed, everyone contemplating the power of the Golden Ones. It was Mort who broke it.
¡°So, we¡¯re running the dungeon tomorrow again?¡±
Rick looked from face to face and shrugged.
¡°Guess so.¡±
¡°If I may,¡± I interjected, drawing their eyes. ¡°We¡¯re four now, and I have a fancy chilly sword. Maybe we could ramp it up a bit and try a harder dungeon? Maybe even pool our resources and see if we can afford one of those maps of the dungeons?¡±
Rick did another look around, and they all shrugged, looking less than convinced.
¡°Okay, it¡¯s settled then. I¡¯ll try to get my hands on one of those maps, and we all chip in on it. Deal?¡±
Deal, we all agreed.
The door to Anchor¡¯s opened, and a tall woman with blonde hair in lavish curls strode in. Already from afar, I saw the level indicator above her head. Level 42. Crap. Another one.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Rick¡¯s eyes darted to me.
¡°Have we learned anything from yesterday?¡±
¡°We have.¡±
I had learned nothing, as it proved, because when she scanned the room, everyone looked down at their beers¡ªexcept me. She was dressed in a way that took my mind to ancient Rome or Greece, some kind of light, airy fabric that enveloped her in layers, kept in at the waist by a belt looking like segmented gold. Over her shoulders, a dark, gleaming fur hung. Something told me that Anchor¡¯s hadn¡¯t been her first choice of venue for the night. She met my gaze, held it, a sharp twist to her mouth, before she came walking over, her high-heeled shoes making a rapid clack-clack-clack as she moved. She was a bit older than I first realized, in her early forties or late thirties maybe, and her eyes were bright blue. Her features weren¡¯t what one would call delicate, but rather coarse¡ªnot in an unattractive way. Her body looked like the product of hard training, the exposed thighs muscular and defined.
She stopped in front of me. The name next to her level read:
Sarah Parsa
¡°You, bring up your personal stats.¡±
I could¡¯ve put my chin up and refused such a blatant demand, but it looked like I actually did learn something yesterday, because I pulled them up and shared them with her.
She scrolled through them, going:
¡°Hmm.¡±
She closed the menu with a swipe of her hand.
¡°You¡¯ll do. Get up. We¡¯re leaving.¡±
Well, I couldn¡¯t be sure of her intentions, but I recognized a woman scorned when I saw one, and I would¡¯ve left with her if she had asked nicely as well. Rick and the others looked between each other, perplexed.
I sat in the backseat of a black car with Sarah Parsa, the dark streets of Area 10 flowing past the window. She hadn¡¯t looked at me since we got into the car. I had tried some small talk, but it didn¡¯t bite.
When we got to the checkpoint at the border to Area 9, an NPC in a gray uniform, looking like a mix of an army uniform and something you would expect on a private driver in a Rolls Royce, waved us through. It was dark, and the surroundings in Area 9 didn¡¯t differ that much from Area 10, but there were people on the sidewalk, dressed up and laughing, probably heading for the next bar. The windows in the buildings were lit, curtains hanging in them, and flowerpots on the windowsills.
We passed more borders, and for every checkpoint, the guards looked more like puffed-up servants than military men. The roads became wider, the parks bigger and better maintained. In Area 7, I saw a fountain in the blue moonlight, and it must¡¯ve been at least 30 feet tall, cascading water even higher. When we reached the checkpoint to Area 4, we were stopped for the first time. The guard NPC wore a black jacket and white gloves. He looked into the car and saw Sarah. He bowed his head.
¡°Miss Parsa.¡±
And then he stepped back, and the car roared past.
The car stopped at a high-rise, and I realized it was the same one I saw when I first entered Breaker City¡ªthe one looking like the Empire State Building. Sarah stepped out of the car, waiting for me to do the same and come around to her side. She shrugged the fur into place and walked up to the entrance of the building, resting beneath a long green awning. The doorman at the gilded and glassed double doors bowed and opened the door. She passed him without looking, walking through the marbled hall toward the elevator. I had to stretch my step to keep up with her stride.
When the elevator doors shut behind us, she leaned back on the gilded handrail and pulled her gloves off, inching them off one finger at a time. Finally, she gave me some kind of recognition¡ªa ghost of a smile that died as soon as the elevator stopped with a thud on the 17th floor. She stepped out, and I followed. The door she stopped at was cream-colored, just like all the other doors in the carpeted hallway. The brass number on her door was 34. She put her palm to the door, and it unlocked with a click. She went in, and the lights came alive with a somber glow. She threw her fur on a chair by the door and continued into the apartment, which looked more like an expensive suite in a fashionable hotel than an apartment.
¡°Can I get you anything?¡±
She stopped at a drink trolley and pulled the stopper out of a decanter with amber liquid.
¡°Uh, yeah. A whiskey, please.¡±
She poured two glasses and returned to me, broad hips swaying, her heavy bosom straining against the thin fabric of her dress. She had a little smile on her lips. It looked a bit predatory to me. She handed one of the glasses over and clinked it with her own before downing the whiskey in two gulps. She walked over to the balcony, and I followed, drinking my whiskey as well. She opened the balcony doors, letting in the honking from the cars below. She put her hands on the black metal railing outside and let her shoulders drop. I stood behind her, looking out on the dazzling view of a major city by night, the sprawl of lights reaching for the horizon. I would¡¯ve liked to stand beside her, but there wasn¡¯t any space. She sighed and bent forward, bumping my crotch with her butt.
¡°I¡¯m really not in the mood for talking,¡± she said, her voice husky and deep. ¡°Just do me.¡±
And now, kids, is when this is going to get a bit raunchy, but when a gorgeous woman tells you to do her, you do¡ªand I did.
Afterward, when we lay in her bed, she lit a cigarette and looked out the window, that melancholy not lifting from her.
¡°Well, that 8 in endurance wasn¡¯t exaggerated.¡±
I let that compliment simmer for a while before asking:
¡°So, how long have you been in the game?¡±
¡°It¡¯s that kind of transaction, is it?¡± she said, not taking her gaze from the open window.
¡°No. I won¡¯t force you to talk if you don¡¯t want to.¡±
She sputtered a laugh through her nose.
¡°Force me? As if you could. I can kill you with my bare hands if you piss me off.¡±
¡°Remind me not to piss you off, then.¡±
That rendered me a look, finally, and a sharp smile.
¡°About five years,¡± she said, taking another drag on the cigarette. ¡°Been off and on for the last year, but you just can¡¯t escape this place. The life on the outside just feels so bland after spending time in here.¡±
¡°I get that¡ but how can you have spent five years in here, when we at Area 10 have been here only for a couple of weeks?¡±
She stared at me, then shook her head.
¡°I forget sometimes how little you analogs know.¡±
Analogs? I let that one slip.
¡°Okay, I¡¯ll try to explain this in a way you¡¯ll understand. I saw in your file that you¡¯ve been to Nam, that you¡¯re a former Recon Marine?¡±
I nodded.
¡°Okay, think of your sniper rifle. You pull the trigger, and the bullet explodes out of the barrel at supersonic speed. The resistance from the air slows the bullet, but what if your bullet wasn¡¯t a bullet but actually a rocket? As soon as it falls below supersonic speed, it propels back up to speed, passing through the sound barrier again. It goes bang-bang-bang,¡± she illustrated this by clipping her fingers together like a Pac-Man, sweeping her hand left to right. ¡°If you constantly add more speed, the bullet will never stop. It will go bang-bang-bang around the earth, leaving its sonic explosions like beads on a pearl necklace. Right?¡±
¡°Right.¡±
¡°Now think what would happen if you did the same thing, but with light instead of sound, propelling a signal to the speed of light constantly?¡±
I didn¡¯t answer.
¡°It will go bang-bang-bang, creating rifts in time. But this pulse doesn¡¯t go around the earth¡ªit cuts right through time itself. And like the self-propelled bullet, it will never stop. Your HUB. The 1984-HUB is the fourth rift in the time continuum that was created by the Pulse. The first one was in 2071, the second was in 2026¡ªmy rift¡ªthe third was in 1997, and the fourth was in¡¡±
¡°1984,¡± I answered, breathlessly.
She pointed the cigarette at me.
¡°Exactly.¡±
¡°What the actual fuck. Are you saying you¡¯re from the future?¡±
¡°Oh, we all are, except you poor bastards in the 1984-HUB. The next time rift is in 1947, but that one will never be exploited. Hard to launch a campaign for a video game when people only have radios.¡±
¡°Who created the signal, and why?¡±
¡°That I don¡¯t know. Some Super AI most seem to think. Go ask the Mayor; he¡¯s sure to know.¡±
¡°Well, thanks. I¡¯ll be sure to next time we run into each other.¡±
She snorted.
Well, dang. Was that a little laugh?
¡°You do that.¡±
Then, just as I thought I had her on the hook, so to speak, she seemed to lose interest in me. She crushed the cigarette to death in the ashtray.
¡°You can¡¯t stay here. I¡¯ll arrange a car for you.¡±
And just like that, I was heading back to Area 10, more confused than ever.
Chapter 6
We dipped our spoons in our cereal, crunching away. Mort and Michael exchanged glances and snickered. Rick shook his head.
¡°What?¡± I demanded, but I perfectly well knew what; I¡¯d been 17 once as well, though it felt like a very long time ago.
¡°Did you do it?¡± Mort asked, his eyes bright with merry anticipation. ¡°You and that tall lady?¡±
¡°A gentleman doesn¡¯t kiss and tell.¡±
¡°Good thing you aren¡¯t much of a gentleman, then,¡± Rick stated, spooning cereal and milk into his mouth.
¡°Well, point taken, but what transpires between consenting adults is less important than what she told me about this place.¡±
That got their attention.
¡°I¡¯ll tell you all about it at Anchor¡¯s tonight.¡±
¡°Oh, come on! You can¡¯t do that,¡± Michael said.
But I could. I needed more ears for this information¡ªnot because of vanity, but because everyone in Area 10 needed to know. Besides, we had work to do, and I needed the guys to focus on the job.
We spent the day farming a new dungeon, fighting level 5 and 6 mobs¡ªchattering goblins that hurled spears in lazy arcs and shot arrows that hit everything except us when we came roaring at them. I hacked and slashed, green goblin blood whipping from the tip of my sword. My Endurance of 8 started to pay dividends; the others began lagging behind, often leaving me to go in first. My level climbed to 4, my attack strength to 602, and my defense to 588. I had saved up all my Character Points and Skill Points¡ªnow 9 of each¡ªand while we sat outside the dungeon, catching our breath and drinking from our waterskins, I decided it was time to distribute them.
I pulled up the menu and my stats, and they looked all wrong. Attack was now 741 and defense 632.
¡°Hey, Rick. Take a look at this.¡±
He did and scratched his head.
¡°That¡¯s odd. Wait¡ oh, you don¡¯t see this happen often.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°Look at your base stats.¡±
I did. My base speed had risen from 4 to 5.
¡°What does that mean?¡±
¡°Your base stats are separate from your battle stats. Your base stats represent you,¡± he said, moving his hand up and down, indicating my person. ¡°That your speed has increased is because we¡¯ve spent the last two days working our asses off, and you¡¯ve become more fit.¡±
That made sense. For the last seven years, I hadn¡¯t done much except go from build site to build site in my Ford Bronco, getting stuck in traffic. I had my morning runs down at the pier, true, but that built endurance rather than speed. These constant bursts of speed when attacking mobs had obviously done something for my glutes.
¡°I¡¯m still waiting for my strength to pop from 2 to 3, but that doesn¡¯t seem to be happening anytime soon,¡± Michael muttered.
¡°Yeah,¡± Rick said. ¡°And as we said before, your base stats are super important because every percentage gain you get through gear, skills, potions, or magic is scaled from your base stats. So, while a 1-point increase doesn¡¯t sound like much, it multiplies heavily when you add gear, skills, and enchantments.¡±
¡°Yeah, because look at this,¡± Mort said. ¡°You¡¯re two levels below me, but your melee attack is already much stronger than mine. Bupkis. That¡¯s it. I¡¯m going full mage. I can¡¯t compete with that.¡±
Michael flapped his lips, exhaling.
¡°Depressing. But I¡¯m with you, brother. Mage it is.¡±
Rick nodded.
¡°You won¡¯t be choosing a class until level 10, as said, but it¡¯s wise to start building your stats for the class you will choose already now. Pull up your skill tree.¡±
I did. It was like algebra¡ªbranches branching out from branches. At places, they wove into one another, but there were four separate trees they all grew from:
The Path of the Sorcerer, The Path of the Warrior, The Path of the Thief, and The Path of the Persuader.
¡°If you ask me, you should go warrior,¡± Rick said.
I looked at the skill tree for the Path of the Warrior:
One-Handed
Two-Handed
Light Armor
Heavy Armor
Blocking
Base Magic
¡°When you reach different thresholds of any given skill, you¡¯ll unlock abilities for them. Open one up and take a look.¡±
I opened the One-Handed skill, and a list of abilities appeared:
15 ¨C Berserker
One-handed attacks do 15% more damage (levels 15, 30, and 50).
30 ¨C Warrior Stance
15% less damage taken from melee attacks (levels 30, 50, and 70).
45 ¨C Armor Piercer
15% more damage done to armor (levels 45, 75, and 80).
75 ¨C Duality
Dual-wielding attacks do 15% more damage (levels 75, 90, and 100).
100 ¨C Damage Done
One-handed attacks do 100% more damage.
¡°You get the system?¡±
¡°Yeah, I think so. It¡¯s divided into three tiers. Berserker unlocks when I hit 15 skill points in One-Handed, but I can get it again at levels 30 and 50, giving me a total of 75% extra damage from one-handed attacks, right?¡±
¡°Right, and all the skills are stackable, so you can have an extra 75% damage from Berserker, and then you can add an extra 100% from Damage Done if you ever hit level 100 in One-Handed. The more you use one-handed weapons, the faster you will level that particular skill. And, as said, all these stats are percentage-based, scaling off your base stats such as strength and endurance. That¡¯s why you¡¯ll do well as a warrior class.¡±
¡°Got it. But where should I put my Skill Points?¡±
¡°Well, those decisions are super important, so I¡¯m not going to tell you where to place them. But if you plan on going warrior class, you obviously want to invest your Skill Points into warrior class abilities. You¡¯ve hit level 17 in One-Handed, and for now, that¡¯s the only ability where you can put Skill Points. All of your other skills are still below level 15. So, my suggestion is that you unlock your first ability. I would go with Berserker for 15% more damage. You can never go wrong with a straight-up damage boosts. When you progress further, you¡¯ll have harder decisions to make. You can pour all your Skill Points into offensive skills, but that will make you a pure glass cannon. Most people balance their stats and snag selected skills from the defensive skill sets as well.¡±
¡°But it¡¯s good to concentrate my Skill Points into One-Handed?¡±
¡°It¡¯s a great idea until you find a legendary warhammer in a loot box. Then it¡¯s a terrible idea.¡±
All three of them snickered before Rick continued:
¡°Jokes aside, after a while, you¡¯ll need to expand beyond just using one-handed weapons. You¡¯ll need some ranged attacks as well, either archery or some destruction magic.¡±
¡°Okay. How about my Character Points? What should I do with them?¡±
¡°Two routes. Make a jack-of-all-trades build, spreading your points evenly. Or specialize. As I mentioned before, every point you chuck in there will scale off your base stats, which means that a Character Point invested in Agility is worth less to you than one invested in Strength.¡±
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¡°Yeah,¡± Mort interjected. ¡°It¡¯s, in fact, only worth half as much since your agility is 4 and your strength is 8.¡±
¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Rick said. ¡°It makes sense to invest in traits where you¡¯re already strong. Strength is a good trait to invest in as well. It¡¯s what¡¯s called a True Trait. If you invest in it, you¡¯ll actually get physically stronger. Traits that aren¡¯t true are, for example, Charisma and Intelligence. If you, for example, invest heavily in Intelligence, it won¡¯t make you understand the theory of relativity if you didn¡¯t before. You won¡¯t actually become smarter, but it will boost your magical abilities, which depend on Intelligence, just like sword fighting depends on Strength. Got it?¡±
¡°Got it.¡±
¡°And if you invest in Charisma, that won¡¯t make that tall blonde woman like you more, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re hoping. The Charisma stat only works on NPCs. In Breaker City, you¡¯ll have to rely on the goods God gave you.¡±
I had experienced firsthand how Strength was a True Trait when I broke my hand against Vinger¡¯s jaw. I never, ever wanted to be at such a disadvantage again¡ªnever wanted to feel that weak again. I took my 9 Character Points and placed them all in Strength.
Rick huffed through his nose.
¡°Going the specialized route, I see. Maybe you¡¯ll want to put something into the other stats as well, going forward?¡±
¡°Maybe."
I did take his advice on putting my Skill Points into the Berserker ability, though, since it was the only one open to me. The ability didn¡¯t reflect in my attack or defense stats since it only activated when actually delivering a blow with a one-handed weapon. My increased Strength raised both my attack and defense, though. My attack had more than doubled to 1,521, and my defense had risen to 983.
¡°Nice,¡± Michael said, nodding. ¡°Very nice.¡±
It was strange. I could actually feel that added strength, and when I rose, I felt it even more. My leather harness didn¡¯t weigh all that much, but suddenly it was like I was wearing a T-shirt. My legs felt like coiled springs.
¡°Everyone rested and ready for another go-around?¡± I asked.
They were. I hacked and slashed, tore through the dungeon like the Tasmanian Devil. The added strength really made all the difference, and the 15% damage boost turned the chattering goblins to butter before my blade. Mobs that had needed two or three blows to kill now fell apart after one. In this dungeon, there were two special loot boxes, but neither of us got anything better than we already had¡ªthough I did find a nicer pair of boots, at least.
That night at Anchor¡¯s, I started telling the guys about what Sarah had told me. We were overheard, and soon people crowded around our table.
¡°Time rifts,¡± a guy said, scratching his thin beard, sounding hesitant.
Another guy, tall and blonde, dressed in army fatigues with a black tank top under a leather jacket, laughed.
¡°We¡¯re killing goblins and ghouls in a world that¡¯s more real than the real one, and that¡¯s what you get hung up on? If the dude says there are time rifts, there are time rifts.¡±
¡°Particles causing energy ripples when hitting light speed? That would align with the Cherenkov Effect but would at the same time dispel Einstein¡¯s theory of relativity. It¡¯s a fascinating prospect,¡± Rick said, more to himself than anyone else.
¡°That would cause massive amounts of radiation, though,¡± Mort interjected, and soon the three musketeers drifted away into their own discussion.
¡°And you got this information from a level 42 player?¡± the blonde guy asked, swinging a chair by the backrest to our table, sitting down.
I should tell you right now, I didn¡¯t like him. It was something about his face¡ªthe smile that looked more like a smirk, the fact that he just sat down uninvited and spread his arm over half the table.
¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right.¡±
¡°And she was hot!¡± Mort shot across the table.
The blonde guy lifted an eyebrow.
¡°Female? Aren¡¯t that many of them around, mostly dudes in here, and we have to settle for NPC companions. Are you some kind of a special one?¡±
¡°You¡¯d have to ask her about that.¡±
¡°But it¡¯s fuckin¡¯ unreal they opened the 1984-HUB. You know you live in the glory days of humanity, right? From there on, everything will get worse until it turns to shit completely. I¡¯m from the 97-HUB, and even if we¡¯re not supposed to talk about it, I¡¯ve heard the world more or less has gone down the toilet by 2025.¡±
¡°We¡¯re not supposed to talk about what?¡±
¡°Tiiime, man. I could tell you, for example, that you should log off right now, go and look up a guy called Bill Gates, and buy some stocks in his company, Microsoft. If you do that, you¡¯ll be a multimillionaire before the ¡¯90s hit. We can talk about that, but they won¡¯t let you log off with the information, and believe me, I¡¯ve tried. When you log off, you¡¯ll still remember that a good-looking guy gave you a stock tip that would make you a millionaire, but you won¡¯t remember what company I was talking about. It doesn¡¯t matter what you do¡ªyou won¡¯t remember the company name Microsoft or the name of its founder, Bill Gates. And if you try to write it on a note, that won¡¯t work either. You can¡¯t bring anything into the game, and you can¡¯t bring anything out. What happens in Breaker City stays in Breaker City. And that¡¯s not even the oddest thing.¡±
He leaned in closer, a cold grin spreading over his lips.
¡°If this place exists already in 1984, why isn¡¯t there a single mention of the NeuroNexus 9000 before 1997, eh?¡±
¡°That¡¯s not odd,¡± Michael said, shrinking a bit when everybody around the table turned to look at him. ¡°It¡¯s¡ The signal originated in the future¡ª¡±
¡°
Yeah, 2071,¡± the blonde guy interrupted.
¡°It could¡¯ve been even further into the future,¡± Michael said. ¡°All we know is that the 2071-HUB is the first one that opened, but there could be a bazillion rifts before it that were never exploited. I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s so, but we don¡¯t know for sure. What we do know for sure is that when the rift opened in 2071, it hadn¡¯t yet opened in 2025, and¡ª¡±
¡°Not in 1997, either,¡± the blonde interrupted again, looking around the table and nodding to collect agreement.
¡°Yes,¡± Michael continued. ¡°But the thing is, if we look at time as a line on a paper, 1984 happened without the NeuroNexus being a part of it. 1984 turned into 1985, without the NeuroNexus popping into existence. What¡¯s happening now is that alternative realities are being created.¡±
¡°What do you mean?¡± Blondie asked.
¡°That there has been a reality where the NeuroNexus didn¡¯t exist, and now there¡¯s a new reality where it does. It¡¯s no longer the same reality. It¡¯s like that stupid thing people say¡ªthat if they could go back in time, they¡¯d kill Hitler and save humanity and blah, blah, blah.¡±
¡°Wouldn¡¯t they? That guy killed millions.¡±
¡°Yes, but even if you go back in time and kill Hitler, it won¡¯t change anything for those he killed. That suffering has already been done with and put into the records of history. All you could ever hope to achieve by going back in time to kill Hitler is to save the people in the alternative reality you created by going back in time in the first place. If you don¡¯t go back in time, that alternative reality will never be created, and people won¡¯t be in need of saving.¡±
¡°Ah¡¡± Blondie said, bobbing his head as if everything was clear to him. ¡°And why is this important?¡±
¡°Maybe it isn¡¯t, but it answers why you haven¡¯t read anything about the NeuroNexus before the rift opened in your time.¡±
He gave a grin and looked at me.
¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m always saying. When it comes to science, leave it to the nerds.¡±
This guy was starting to get on my nerves.
¡°I think you better. Why are you here anyway, on this HUB, if you¡¯re from the ¡¯90s?¡±
He shrugged and chewed some air while looking around the place.
¡°Piled up some infractions. Got demoted below the floor, and they sent me here.¡±
¡°The floor?¡±
¡°If you get whacked, you¡¯ll be demoted to the closest ten¡ªlike dropping from 39 to 30, or from 27 to 20. I was a solid level 19 when they found some crap to hassle me with. I didn¡¯t buy their bullshit and argued back, and they sent me through the floor back down to level 1. So, here I am with the rest of you jellies.¡±
¡°Tough luck.¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± he said, wetting his lips while still scanning the room. ¡°But I¡¯ll be right back where I left off. Got some tricks for speed leveling. You¡¯ll see.¡±
If he had been someone else, I would¡¯ve asked about those tricks, but I knew beforehand that this guy would give nothing but a sly, knowing grin in return.
I had hoped for an uneventful evening with the musketeers¡ªdrinking some beer and calling it an early night. These two days of dungeon crawling had taken their toll; there were no potions for stiff muscles and a sore back.
But, no.
The door opened, and a man stepped in, dressed in a gray uniform and a chauffeur¡¯s cap. He looked around the room, and his eyes stopped at me. I recognized him from the night before. It was Sarah¡¯s driver.
The musketeers, showing their combined IQ, snickered.
¡°Someone got the booty call,¡± Michael giggled.
Blondie looked over his shoulder at the driver and then back at me, mouth half-open.
¡°The chick?¡±
I shrugged.
¡°Lucky bastard.¡±
So, across the city limits again and up to room 34 on the 17th floor I went. She was by the window, giving me a look over her shoulder.
¡°You know, I¡¯m not a dog you can summon at your convenience,¡± I said.
¡°And yet, here you are, as the dog you are.¡±
It was another no-nonsense affair, and we ended up on the bed, just like last night. I lay there afterward, staring at the ceiling, panting as the sweat dried on my chest. Sarah rolled over and snatched a cigarette out of the pack.
¡°You want one?¡±
I shook my head.
She lit it, the lighter clattering on the table as she put it back on the nightstand, then rolled onto her back.
¡°Level 4 now? You¡¯re on a roll.¡±
¡°It¡¯s too slow, though. I¡¯m wearing myself out with little to show for it.¡±
¡°We¡¯ve all been there,¡± she said, pulling a drag from the cigarette. ¡°But there are ways to do it faster.¡±
¡°Tournaments?¡±
She shrugged.
¡°Other ways.¡±
I didn¡¯t answer, hoping she would fill the silence, and she did.
¡°There¡¯s a dungeon up in the mountains of Windersmyr that¡¯s glitched. It gives out way better loot than it¡¯s supposed to. It¡¯s very remote, though, and without a portal spell, you have at least a week of trekking to look forward to.¡±
¡°You¡¯ve done it?¡±
¡°Mmm. A guy showed me the location way back when. It was a solid level jump for me.¡±
She fell silent, rolling the cigarette between her thumb and index finger, her eyes distant as she blew a plume of smoke. There was something about that guy, obviously, but since she apparently didn¡¯t want to talk about him, I didn¡¯t ask.
¡°I can mark it on your map and give you a portal spell as well. You¡¯ll have it done in a day if you don¡¯t drag. But you should wait until you¡¯re at least level 7. And get your archery skills up¡ªthere¡¯s a lot of distance to cover in that dungeon.¡±
¡°Thanks. Much appreciated.¡±
¡°But it¡¯s a portal spell for one, so you¡¯ll have to go into that dungeon alone. Your little friends can¡¯t help you this time.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll manage.¡±
¡°And as I said, don¡¯t go in there until you¡¯re level 7.¡±
¡°I won¡¯t.¡±
¡°And whatever you do, don¡¯t let the Death Knight get too close to you.¡±
Death Knight? I didn¡¯t like the sound of that at all.
¡°Now you need to go. I¡¯ll arrange the car for you.¡±
I felt a bit dirty on the ride back south. So, it¡¯s that kind of transaction, then? She had asked the last time, and this time it actually felt like a transaction. We hadn¡¯t wasted any time when I arrived, and less than twenty minutes after we finished, she sent me packing with my payment¡ªa marker on my map and a spell to take me there.
I¡¯m not a prude or even a proud man, but this arrangement didn¡¯t feel great.
Chapter 7
The next morning, I flew out by myself. Michael was moaning that the brotherhood of the musketeers was falling apart, but I assured him this was a one-time thing, and I think they understood. When I disembarked in Windersmyr, I went with the rest of the players down the dirt road to Longbourn. I usually didn¡¯t go there after landing since everyone else was, making the village look like a Disneyland for livers. I had stuff to take care of, though, and credits to burn. As usual, when I entered Windersmyr, my credits were converted to silver. I had a total of 175 silver. It didn¡¯t seem like I could grow my stack of coins no matter what I did.
I wasn¡¯t supposed to enter the dungeon until level 7, but if there had been a stat for impatience, I would¡¯ve scored high on it. Instead of waiting another week to hit level 7, the plan was to keep myself alive with healing potions. I would buy as many as I could afford, and how many I could afford was partly decided by how much I would have to spend on a bow. It was hard to believe, but since starting the dungeon crawl in Windersmyr, I hadn¡¯t had a decent bow drop yet. I had gotten some from the goblins the day before, but those bows were next to useless, and no merchant had even wanted to pay a single silver for them. One had advised me to use them as firewood instead.
Stone houses in one or two stories lined the dirt road, and behind them, on the side streets, smaller houses of wood with thatched roofs huddled among well-tended gardens and veggie patches. I passed the tavern ¨C the Queen¡¯s Castle ¨C and continued down the street to
Carlin¡¯s Goods & Supplies. I stopped dead in my tracks, fumbling for my sword, eyes wide with disbelief. In front of me stood a huge orc with yellow fangs sticking up from its jaw, beady yellow eyes staring down at me.
¡°Wouldn¡¯t touch that sword if I was you, jelly,¡± the orc rumbled.
It was only now I saw the level indicator over his head. It was blue, not yellow, indicating an enemy. This was another player, and he was level 27. Higher-level players weren¡¯t restricted to only having Longbourn as an entry point in Windersmyr. They had about twenty different landing spots to choose from, so it was rare to see anything other than human races here.
¡°Sorry, just caught me by surprise.¡±
¡°This lovely face tends to do that,¡± the orc said, chuckling deep and growling.
He passed me, and I looked after him. I had seen some other high-level players in Longbourn, mostly elves, but they didn¡¯t stand out like a big hulking orc. Most players, from what I¡¯ve understood, decided to remain human after level 10, but orc was the most powerful melee class, and since that was the path I had started down, so just maybe. I still had six levels to go before I had to make that decision.
I entered Carlin¡¯s, a light-deprived burrow that was immaculately clean. Carlin stood by the counter, smiling. The one thing that stood out with Carlin was the fact that he was a player, not an NPC. He didn¡¯t do the dungeon diver thing for gear. He traded for it, bought and sold, and made a good profit from it. That was one way to play the game, I guessed, but it wasn¡¯t mine.
¡°Brad! How nice to see you again. What have you brought for me today?¡±
¡°Today I¡¯m not here to sell, but to buy.¡±
¡°Intriguing. What can I interest you in?¡±
¡°I need a bow. A good basic bow without enchantments. I can pay a maximum of 100 silver for it.¡±
Carlin laughed.
¡°You¡¯re in the wrong merchant house then, boy. I don¡¯t deal in damaged goods, and that is all you can expect for a price like that¡ªa broken bow without a string. No seriously, what can I get you?¡±
Oh, this tiresome song and dance.
¡°What is the cheapest bow you have?¡±
¡°You¡¯re such a bundle of tact and finesse, Brad. Go for the cheapest thing on the menu. Oh yes, just do that.¡±
He reached beneath the counter and pulled out a black wooden bow with inlays of steel at the grip. It looked a lot more expensive than 100 silver.
¡°How much?¡±
¡°250. Everything else would be to give it away.¡±
¡°Hrmm,¡± I said and took the bow up, pulled the string with a knowing twist to my mouth, like I actually knew what the hell I was doing.
I placed it back on the counter.
¡°Listen. A deal. I¡¯ve been told a location from a friend and have a portal spell to take me there. The dungeon is full to the brim with high-quality loot. If you sell me this bow for 100 silver, I will go to you with my business when I return. And that¡¯s a promise.¡±
¡°Well, well, well,¡± Carlin said, tucking his thumbs into his belt. ¡°It all sounds good and dandy, except for the possibility that you get yourself killed and I lose the bow for a measly 100 silver.¡±
¡°Well, no risk, no reward.¡±
He cracked a grin and slapped his hand into mine.
¡°Got yourself a deal, my friend!¡±
A blue text popped up in my HUD:
Negotiation Skill Increased
The blue gauge meter got a healthy bump to the right, filling up halfway. I also unlocked a new achievement:
Achievement Unlocked: Barter with the Best of ¡¯Em (For successfully negotiating with a player above your own level)
Reward: 100 silver
That 100 silver came in as a lifesaver. I spent them all on seven medium health potions and 30 iron arrows before leaving Carlin¡¯s with a big grin on my face.
I walked out of Longbourn, past the pastures, before leaving the road, pulling out the scroll with the portal spell. I was crap at magic, but Sarah had said this was a beginner spell and that it was impossible to fail. I opened my map and activated the marker Sarah had placed. It started bobbing and turning. I unrolled the scroll and activated it. A swirling black hole grew out of the air to my left. It was oblong and just the right size to walk through.
I did.
There were no fanfares or me traveling like a singular mind through space. It was, if anything, rather underwhelming. I stepped through the portal, and it was like blinking my eyes¡ªI was somewhere else.This place was something else entirely from the green rolling hills of Longbourn. It was rocky and freezing. Thin snow blew in the wind, danced and twirled, before being ripped away by stronger gusts. A massif of dark rock loomed ahead, a black triangular cave opening beneath. It looked far from inviting, but I needed to get in there fast, or I would freeze to death out here. I ran for the opening, my head on a swivel, looking left and right.
The wind outside became a distant thrum as soon as I entered the cave. The usual torches were on the walls, in sconces, and the air was a great deal warmer than outside. My mini-map showed a large circular space beneath the entrance, but there were no enemies marked. That didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t there. I had learned that enemies only showed up when you either saw or heard them¡ªor if they saw or heard
you, which was worse.
I sank down in a crouch and descended the slope to the pillared cave below. A burnt-out fire sat at the center of the cave, alongside a wooden chest that looked very much like a trap. If a level 7 ogre came wrestling out of the darkness, I could still bolt for the exit. I would¡¯ve wasted the spell Sarah gave me, but at least I would live to mourn the loss.
Still in a crouch, with my Silver Sword of Freezing drawn, I advanced on the chest. Still no red dots on the mini-map. I cracked the chest open. A pair of worn-out leather boots¡ªyay. I put them in my inventory. They would sell for at least 2 silver with a trader a little less stingy than Carlin. I made a sweep of the room, and it was empty.
Awesome.
I could do some training, then. I sheathed my sword and pulled the bow from my inventory. I hadn¡¯t exactly figured out how this worked; I didn¡¯t carry the bow on my back, but I could pull it out just as easily as I pulled the sword from the sheath by my hip.
Whatever.
I reached back, pulled one of the arrows from the quiver, and nocked it. I pulled the string, my right arm immediately starting to tremble.
Hey! An 8 in strength, remember!
For some reason, that strength didn¡¯t do me much good with the bow. I saw a small dark shadow by the wall.
A rat.
I let the arrow go. It stalled before clattering to the stone floor.
Pathetic.
I walked over and plucked it from the floor, turned, and took aim at a stone pillar farther away. Some of it was me actually learning to hold the bow and pull the string with technique rather than just brute force, but I actually started to get the arrows to fly straight, and sometimes even hit the pillar I was aiming for. I saw the rat again. It was a small target, but I had a good feeling. I raised the bow, took aim, inhaled, and then slowly exhaled, focusing on the marker above the grip. I let the arrow fly. It whizzed through the air and hit the rat dead center.
Then there was that lovely gonging sound again, and the blue text popped up in my HUD:
Archery Skill Increased
The blue progress bar was already all the way to the right and restarted at the left. I looked at the number above it.
What the hell¡
The numbers for my archery skill hadn¡¯t switched from 1 to 2, as I had expected, but from 23 to 24. This was the first time I had ever used a bow, both in real life and here in Windersmyr. How could my skill already be at 24? Could it have anything to do with my background as a sniper? It was the only thing I could think of, but if someone wanted to give me levels for free, I wasn¡¯t one to complain about it. If anything, this made this level 7 dungeon a bit more manageable for my puny level 4 character.
I spent maybe an hour down there, shooting rats, blistering my fingers drawing the string. I was trying to get my archery skill to level 25, which would open up the first tier of abilities. Getting there by shooting rats, I realized, would take days. I needed to get going and do some serious work.
I descended the next narrow path into another cave. It was an odd and almost serene place, light spilling in from a hole in the roof, shining on a knoll of grass with a withered old tree on top. It had only a few green leaves left. Insects and motes floated in the light. Footpaths went down on both sides of the knoll, carving it out, making it look almost like the prow of a ship.
By the small tree stood a burgundy chest with details in polished brass.
It looked
oh so good, but at the same time, it looked
oh so much like a trap. I had thought the same in the previous room, but this time I was certain. It was a trap.
And, sure enough. As I stood there, I saw a shadow streak across the cave ceiling by the knoll, and I heard voices from the stone hall behind. Human voices. Other players? No. Three red dots lit up.
Oh, crap. This could be biting off a bit too much.
I advanced slowly, keeping close to the wall. They were pacing back and forth as if on patrol. I saw only their heads and shoulders. Could I maybe sneak up to the chest and loot it without them noticing? Maybe there was an awesome sword in there that could even out the odds a bit. Worth trying. I snuck closer, their voices growing louder. One of them laughed, a sharp barking sound. I was close enough to see their tags now.
Level 6 ¨C bandit
Level 5 ¨C bandit
Level 5 ¨C bandit
Could¡¯ve been worse. No level 7s. But still, there were three of them. I was at the chest, reaching for the lid, when something stirred beside me.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
I froze.
A new red dot popped up on the mini-map, right next to me.
Slowly, I turned my head.
The man was big and burly, clad in a leather harness lined with fur. His black beard was braided and adorned with something that looked like human teeth. He was sleeping on a blanket, one arm tucked under his head.
Bandit Chief ¨C Level 8
I just sat there, staring at him, not daring to move either forward or backward. My mind raced as I weighed my options. It was really just one thing I could do. With my heart thudding loud enough to wake the bandit chief, I pulled my steel dagger.
The bandit chief snorted in his sleep and frantically began rubbing the tip of his nose.
I dove down upon him, jabbing my dagger into his throat while clamping my other hand over his mouth. He tensed up and went:
¡°
Blergh!¡±
Hot blood flowed over my hand. It felt too real¡ªmuch too real¡ªbut despite that, I turned the dagger in the wound to really open the flow. The bandit chief kicked once, and then his red dot disappeared from the map. A string of achievements popped up on the HUD, bumping each other up and out of sight.
Silent Assassin (for scoring the first sneak kill)
The Blade Itself (for scoring a lethal hit with a knife)
The Bigger They Are (for killing a target of higher level)
The skills Sneaking and One-Handed also got major bumps. Silver and XP rained down upon me, and three loot boxes for the achievements appeared in my inventory. I had no time to rejoice¡ªmy gaze was firmly set upon the bandits below. If one of them just turned their head my way, I would be in a world of shit. They didn¡¯t.
I removed my hand from the bandit chief¡¯s mouth and wiped the blade of the dagger on his trousers. Then I reached for the lock of the chest. It wasn¡¯t the kind that was opened with a key, but rather the kind that snapped open.
It snapped open with a sharp
clack!
¡°What?¡± one of the bandits said, and their red markers stopped dead.
Oh, shit.
Out of the chest, a grand sword rose, and I grabbed it without looking because over the lid of the chest I saw them coming¡ªall three of them. I ran back through the hall as fast as I could, hearing them holler and scream behind me. I ran right through the other room as well and tumbled out into the snow.
Good thing to know: if you exit a cave, the mobs inside will never follow you out. They¡¯ll be in there, going: Where the hell did he go? Is this magic? before returning to their positions. After a couple of minutes, they forget you were ever in there.I took a look at my new sword.
It wasn¡¯t just any generic sword. It had a name¡ªRegalus¡ªand that ought to mean it was a good one. I looked at its stats and description.
Regalus: 20% extra physical damage against the undead.20% burn damage against the undead.15% drainage.
Drainage? I looked it up in the FAQ.
Drainage: Leaches the lifeblood of its enemies.
So, if I hit a baddie with the sword, I would not only clobber it with physical and burn damage but also leach their health? Sounded good to me. I popped the three loot boxes I got for my achievements, getting a pile of silver, another steel dagger, and some steel arrows as well. Nothing earth-shaking, but nice nonetheless. The steel arrows had an extra 13 damage compared to my iron ones.I went back into the dungeon.
As expected, the bandits had retreated to their original positions, talking and laughing.Once again, I snuck closer.
The footpaths at the knoll created choke points I could use.I snuck even closer, keeping to the shadows by the wall until I was at the choke point.
I pulled out the bow and nocked a steel arrow. I heard from the bandits¡¯ voices that they were heading back my way. I drew the string to my cheek, staring into the darkness. I saw a glint of one of them, his head turned to his friend, talking away. I let the arrow fly. It flew straight and punched right through the talker¡¯s throat.
I hadn¡¯t time to pay attention to the achievements and level-ups that resulted from the hit. Quickly, I whipped out another arrow and put it to the string, trying to take advantage of the holler and confusion below.
No time. The two remaining bandits came darting up the footpath. I let the arrow go. It bounced off the foremost bandit¡¯s metal helmet.
Fuck.
I drew my sword and charged at them, not wanting them to reach level ground. I swung at the first one, a mighty overhead swing that he parried, but not with ease. He needed to hold the sword with both hands. I kicked him in the gut. With a grunt, he collapsed back into his friend. I pounced on them, running my sword through the top one, hoping to nail the one below in the same strike.
No luck.
The remaining bandit had gotten his sword arm free. He slashed at me and cut a long gash in my thigh. I staggered back, grunting. The bandit heaved his dead friend aside and got to his feet, grinning with blood on his face, tossing his sword from hand to hand.
Once again, mental vertigo struck me¡ªthat this was actually happening. That I was fighting a grinning bandit in a cave inside a fantasy world.
¡°A lowly level 5? In myyyy dungeon? You¡¯ll regret the day you were born, son!¡±
Level 5? I had gained another level. That must¡¯ve happened when I killed the bandit chief. I drank a healing potion straight from the inventory, and the burning pain in my leg vanished. I got my mobility back and danced on the spot like a boxer to taunt the remaining bandit. He frowned.
¡°Now, how did you do that, son? Dabbling with magic, are we?
Cheating, that is!¡± he roared and came at me with an overhead swing of his own. The force of it would¡¯ve shattered the bones in my forearms; instead, I rolled to the side, making him hit stone. I swiped towards him, hitting his leg but not cutting through. A red symbol popped up above his head, showing white fangs¡ªthe leaching effect. The bandit stumbled to the wall, dragging his leg with him. Didn¡¯t I feel stronger all of a sudden? Invigorated, even? The bandit¡¯s face was as gray as ash, and he only managed to give me a sideways glance when I took his head off.
Brutal and gory.
I preferred slaying goblins and trolls, but as usual in life, you don¡¯t get to choose your enemies.
I looted the corpses of the bandits, finding nothing better than what I already had equipped, but the bandit chief carried a hefty 72 silver and a strange-looking marble. It was a translucent pink hue, and when I put it close to my eye, it looked like there was a swirl inside it, like a miniature galaxy rotating within. I examined the marble, and it was simply named:
Minor Orb of Soul Snare (Empty)
Didn¡¯t make me any wiser, so I dumped it in my inventory and continued down to the next room, which contained two ordinary loot boxes. One gave a chainmail, and the other a pair of sleek boots that, by their description, were:
Common Boots of Stamina: Grants the wearer +5% stamina.
I put them on immediately, dumping my black boots into the inventory. The chainmail was an upgrade to my leather harness and bumped my defense up by a handful of points. I checked my level progress. My bout with the bandits had me on the verge of hitting level 6. Fighting higher-level mobs really did speed up the leveling progress. Before long, I would hit the recommended level 7 for the dungeon.
While going deeper into the dungeon, I thought about the sword I got from the chest. Was that the awesome loot Sarah had been talking about? The sword was nice, I¡¯m not saying anything else, but it was nothing like the level-buster I was hoping for. Her words echoed in my head:
Whatever you do, don¡¯t let the Death Knight get too close to you.
I didn¡¯t plan to let anything with "death" in its name come close to me¡ªcertainly not something that was also a knight. I didn¡¯t look forward to meeting this knight of the dead, but if there were awesome loot in the dungeon¡ªor at least more awesome than the sword I already got¡ªhe was the one guarding it.
The footpath descended sharply, and between two protruding rocks, I saw something that looked like a circular, raised altar. In front of the altar was a stone sarcophagus, flanked by winged demons made of stone. I walked a little closer, crouching, scanning for enemies. Suddenly the footpath disappeared, and there was a ten-foot drop to the floor below.
Ah, I got it. When I jumped down from here, the friggin¡¯ Death Knight throws the lid of his sarcophagus, and I can¡¯t get back up, performing my little escape routine. In the confined space below, the Death Knight would make hamburger meat out of me.
Behind the altar was a low bridge spanning a stream of slow-running water. I couldn¡¯t see where it led, but my only chance was to build distance between me and the Death Knight and use my level 12 skill in archery to take him down. I could do that by running up that stream, or, if I managed, right across the altar and over the bridge.
Decisions, decisions. Wouldn¡¯t get any wiser sitting here, perched like a frightened bird. I assigned my three new Character Points and put them into Strength, bumping that stat up to 12.
Then I jumped down.
I hit the ground and immediately heard the groaning rumble of stone shifting position. I snapped my gaze up and saw a skeletal hand sliding the lid of the sarcophagus to the side.
No surprise there, but that didn¡¯t keep my heart from hammering with fear.
I bolted past the resting place of the Death Knight and splashed into the stream. The stream flowed out through the mountain via a narrow triangular opening that looked big enough for a person to get through.
I pulled a torch from my inventory. It popped out in my hand, lit and ready. I splashed on as fast as my feet could carry me into the darkness of the water tunnel. When my stamina-enhanced boots couldn¡¯t carry me any longer, I tossed the torch in the water, snuffing it out.
I spun around, pulling my bow and nocking a steel arrow.
At the other end of the passage, I saw the tall and gangly silhouette of the Death Knight, blue light shining through his body, a tall crown on his head.
I pulled the string and immediately let the arrow go.
It clattered against the rock wall and ended up in the stream.
The Death Knight gave a strange murmur, and then the narrow passage lit up in an amber glow. A massive ball of fire came hurtling my way.
I dove headfirst into the water. Above me, the world exploded in orange, the sound of the explosion a muted burble beneath the water.
I came back up, gasping for air, whipping my head to get the water out of my face.
The Death Knight was closer now, much closer.
I stroked water from my face and nocked another arrow. If only I¡¯d had one of those exploding arrows that Michael had.
The tag above the Death Knight¡¯s head read:
Ancient Death Knight ¨C Level 10
I fired again. It would¡¯ve been a hit, but the arrow flew right through his skeletal body. I nocked another arrow, pulled the string, and let it go. It hit the Death Knight straight in the chest, sending a wave pattern of blue light upon impact.
The knight sighed and went down on one knee, head bent, the crown falling off into the stream.
I already had the next arrow on the string and hit his downturned head. It hit with a loud smack but didn¡¯t keep him from rising again and continuing his slow walk toward me.
I saw now that his jaw was unhinged. Black smoke billowed out of his freakishly oversized mouth.
Whatever you do, don¡¯t let the Death Knight get too close to you.
I fired another arrow, and it struck the knight in the mouth, snapping his head backward. His knees buckled. He sagged and fell to the ground as a pile of bones.
¡°Whoo-hooo!¡± I screamed, pumping my bow above my head, the echo of my voice bouncing against the stone.
It was like being in Las Vegas¡ªthe achievements and level-ups just poured in, gonging and pinging, feeding my ego and sense of achievement.
I was going to go through all that later, but now¡ªmy well-deserved loot. I looted the pile of bones of the Death Knight and found 129 silver, 3x enchanted bone meal, and an enchanted Crown of Necrosis. The bone meal seemed to be an alchemic ingredient, and the crown something that could be used by a mage class called Necromancers. That word carried a faint ring of recognition. It had something to do with raising the dead. Wearing the crown would grant me seven extra seconds for reanimated minions. I wasn¡¯t planning to dabble with the dead, but I dumped the crown in the inventory for now. Then, I ran back into the altar space, seeing two large burgundy chests with platinum details waiting for me.
I opened the first chest, and a purple light swirled as a pair of fur-lined gloves reinforced by steel floated up from the chest. They had a cold blue shine to them.
Epic Gloves of Breaking
Gives 15% extra melee damage from one-handed and two-handed attacks.
Not bad. Not bad at all. Epic stuff. Better than what I had at the moment, and the gloves were the perfect fit for my intended class, but still not the level-buster I was hoping for. I equipped them, and my attack score rose more than a hundred points to a total of 1721, and the defense increased to 1133. The 15% extra damage would stack on top of the 15% I got from the
Berserker ability, giving me a total of 30% extra damage.
I scurried over to the other chest and popped it open, my breath hitching as the swirl of light from the chest was a golden hue, signaling a legendary item.
Now we¡¯re talking. Finally!
In the yellow light, a scroll of paper emerged. Frowning, I grabbed it.
Fires of Motar
Creates a wall of fire around the caster, instantly killing all enemies lower in level than the caster, seriously injuring enemies of higher level, and also causing a 5-second stun effect.
Area of effect: 30 feet.
No, no, no.
I opened the information tab and rushed my gaze down the block of text, stopping at:
Requires destruction magic 70. I balled my hands into fists and stared up at the stone ceiling. A legendary item, but not one that I could use¡ªever. Just my luck.
I used the portal spell and was soon back in the pleasant warmth of Longbourn, deflated and pissed off. While walking towards Carlin¡¯s, I chewed down my disappointment and started thinking instead. When I entered Carlin¡¯s shop, I did so with a smile. Carlin smiled back at me.
¡°Good looting, I assume?¡±
¡°Kinda,¡± I said. ¡°See if there¡¯s anything in there that might interest you.¡±
One could partition a part of the inventory to show others, and I pulled in all the stuff I had gathered during the day, including my rare sword, the epic gloves, and the legendary scroll. While Carlin looked through my stuff, I pretended to look through his inventory, while I actually studied his face. His expression when he saw the scroll wouldn¡¯t garner him much luck at a poker table¡ªhis neck straightened slightly, cheeks sucked in. I turned my attention to his inventory, adding the numbers together. Yeah, this could work. I turned my attention back to Carlin.
¡°So, whaddoyasay? What can you give me for all of it?¡±
Carlin sighed and shrugged. Christ, he was a terrible actor.
¡°Well, most of it is junk. Stuff that I can use to pad offers with, but that scroll is a bit more interesting¡ Would you take 2000?¡±
¡°For all of it,¡± I said, firing off a na?ve smile.
¡°Yeah, since you¡¯ve been a good sport, holding up your end of the deal, coming to me first.¡±
¡°I like it,¡± I said.
Carlin smiled even wider, extending his hand for the hand-slap of agreement. He didn¡¯t get it. His smile waned.
¡°2000 and you throw in that sword in the third square of your inventory.¡±
Carlin sputtered air through his nose with disgust.
¡°Laridian¡¯s Edge for a scroll? A legendary sword, for a
scroll?¡±
¡°It¡¯s not a scroll. It¡¯s a legendary spell and a very powerful one to boot.¡±
¡°No way. Nooo way. Take your junk and get out of here.¡±
I shrugged.
¡°Fair enough. I promised to come to you first, and I did. Now I¡¯ll try my luck with Gerson.¡±
¡°Okay, okay,¡± Carlin said, holding up his hands. ¡°3000. That¡¯s as far as I can go.¡±
¡°Too bad. I can go as far as to Gerson, at least.¡±
¡°4000, and now this is starting to get ridiculous.¡±
¡°Ha ha, yeah. Me and Gerson will have a laugh,¡± I said, tucking the scroll back into my inventory and turning for the door.
¡°Ah, aha, okay. You¡¯re playing that game, are you? Okay, I can play. I can play.¡±
I turned back to him, one eyebrow raised.
¡°Yes?¡±
¡°A legendary item for a legendary item, I can understand you see logic in that, but scrolls don¡¯t fetch the same price as cold hard steel. Look around! Far more players wield weapons than spells. I can¡¯t do a 1-to-1 trade. No one will. And you can take
that to Gerson if you like.¡±
¡°Yeah, maybe I will, but I think my first stop will be at the local mage¡¯s guild. I bet I can sell this one for top silver there. See ya.¡±
¡°Stop!¡± Carlin shouted with something akin to despair, slamming his palms down on the counter. ¡°You get the sword, okay. But I get the scroll
and your Regalus
and your epic gloves. That is a fair trade.¡±
Something told me it at least was as fair a deal as I would ever get from Carlin, but I decided to push it a bit further.
¡°I keep the gloves. The rest you can have.¡±
¡°Then I want my bow back.¡±
¡°Sure.¡±
We shook on that¡ªmy negotiation skills making a massive jump¡ªand I got on the transport back to Breaker City with my level-buster, Laridian¡¯s Edge, a legendary sword of burning, a pair of epic enchanted gloves, and a strange pink marble in my inventory.
Awesome.
Chapter 8
I was beat, completely shattered after my dungeon crawl¡ªboots of stamina or not. The guys hadn¡¯t left the apartment all day. They¡¯d taken the day off, letting the grind rest, and had been lounging in the living room, watching the talking heads analyze the night¡¯s upcoming semifinal in the Battle Clash. Beacher Ash was up against Trey Aldright.
The musketeers had momentarily forgotten about the Battle Clash when I brought out Laridian¡¯s Edge from my inventory. They passed it around, caressing the shiny, almost oily surface of the blade, watching firelight dance in its reflection. Now they¡¯d gone down to Anchor¡¯s to watch the fight and grab some beers. Me? My plan was to get at least eight hours of sleep before setting my master plan into motion¡ªa plan I¡¯d dubbed The Plan of Massive Power Levelling.
But for the night, sleep was my only plan.
There was a knock at the door.
For fuck¡¯s sake¡
I tossed my pillow aside and went to answer it. It was the driver, and I can¡¯t say I was surprised.
¡°Your friends told me you were here. You need to come with me.¡±
¡°No.¡±
He looked at me like the meaning of that one syllable hadn¡¯t quite hit home.
¡°Excuse me?¡±
¡°You heard me. I¡¯m tired. I¡¯m not going anywhere except to bed.¡±
¡°Miss Parsa isn¡¯t one to be denied. She¡ª¡±
I slammed the door in his face. I wasn¡¯t doing this anymore. A man had to have some dignity, after all.
I had just drifted into a shallow slumber when the door sounded again.
What in the flying f¡ª
I hurled my pillow at the wall and stormed to the door, ready to tell that uppity
fucking NPC a thing or two.
It was Sarah on the other side of the door, wearing a black dress and high heels, a silver necklace, and that same fur coat as before. She looked as gorgeous as ever. A man could falter in his ambitions for less.
¡°Can I come in?¡±
I stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture toward our rathole of an apartment. Someone should¡¯ve done the dishes¡ªprobably me. She stepped in, her gaze floating through the wreckage.
¡°And here I was under the impression you were actually a grown man.¡±
¡°I blame the kids,¡± I said, scratching the back of my head. ¡°You want a beer?¡±
She nodded. I popped the cap off for her, and we sat at the kitchen table, drinking in silence and studying each other.
¡°I was surprised you sent my driver away.¡±
¡°Me too.¡±
I hadn¡¯t been surprised when I sent him away, but now, with Sarah sitting in my kitchen, cherry-red lips sipping from a bottle, I was more than a little bit surprised of myself.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was a dog. Most probably...
¡°And I¡¯m a bit surprised you showed up at my door,¡± I said.
She shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°Me too, but here we are.¡±
Long story short¡ªcut to the couch. Sarah lit her usual post-sex cigarette and glanced at me, blowing smoke toward the ceiling.
¡°You¡¯re awfully quiet tonight.¡±
¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve been thinking about what you said last time, about the time rifts and all. It¡¯s a hard thing to wrap my head around.¡±
¡°It is. But then it becomes the new normal. I think that¡¯s why we¡¯ve been chosen to play the game. Not because we¡¯re the strongest or brightest, but because we can deal with this and get shit done.¡±
¡°That¡¯s the other thing I¡¯m curious about¡ªwhat ¡®shit¡¯ is. Right now, it¡¯s just fun and games¡ªliterally¡ªbut I¡¯m not stupid enough to think that¡¯ll last. I know you know but can¡¯t tell me. At least tell me this: should I bail from the game now, before I get too involved? Or should I go deeper?¡±
¡°I can¡¯t tell you that. You need to discover what lies ahead on your own. What I can say is this: all the high-level players are here because they want to be here, not because they¡¯re forced. And there are as many ways to play this game as there are players. Some just kick back and live life once they reach High Town. Others can¡¯t get enough of the adrenaline rush and go on mission after mission. Some go into trade, building fortunes. Don¡¯t make the mistake of contrasting ¡®the real world¡¯ with this one, because this world is just as real as the other one." She silened for a moment. ¡°Guess we all have our reasons to be here. Out there, in the other world, I¡¯m a nobody. I work at a Hooters restaurant. You know what that is? You had them back in 1984?¡±
¡°We do.¡±
¡°Well, then you know. It¡¯s one of those gigs you think you¡¯ll do for a year or two at most, but for me, it turned into longer. I¡¯m 41 now, working as a waitress, and I have no fucking clue what to do with my life. This world became my life. I found my special guy here, and we leveled together, did everything together. But he leveled past me, found another woman to fuck, and left me behind. I¡¯ve been stuck at level 42 for a while now. Can¡¯t find the energy to push forward, but I can¡¯t bring myself to go back to the other world either. In about two weeks¡¯ time, the weekend¡¯s over in the other world, and I have to go back to waiting tables, taking the occasional slap on the ass for extra tips. I can¡¯t see how that¡¯ll work anymore. Probably I¡¯ll slap them right back and get fired. Maybe that wouldn¡¯t be so bad. It¡¯s been time to move on for a while. If I can¡¯t muster the energy to take that step, maybe it¡¯s better they throw me out on my ass.¡±
¡°Is that special guy still in the game?¡±
¡°You could say that. He¡¯s Raker Toth, the Alpha Prime.¡±
¡°Oh, shit.¡±
¡°Yep.¡±
¡°I had a little run-in with his baby brother the other day.¡±
¡°Vinger?¡± She looked startled.
¡°Yeah. We didn¡¯t get off on the right foot.¡±
¡°That¡¯s bad. Really bad.¡±
¡°I figured it wasn¡¯t great to piss off a level 46, but... bad?¡±
¡°Vinger is... not a nice person, to put it mildly. He¡¯s a sadist. He likes hurting people, and if you¡¯ve gotten on his bad side, that means trouble. Stay low and hope he forgets about you. If he makes you a side project, you may as well leave the game now.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
¡°Surely it can¡¯t be that bad?¡±
¡°It can. The Alpha Prime is, next to the Game Maker himself, the most powerful person in the game. He can break any rule in the TOS, and he¡¯s
very protective of his baby brother.¡±
I sighed.
¡°Well, keeping a low profile isn¡¯t exactly my strong suit. Especially since...¡±
¡°Since what?¡±
¡°I asked you if I should go deeper into the game or bail, but I already knew my answer. I¡¯m going balls deep and advancing as far as I can.¡±
That had been the pattern of my life. I didn¡¯t just enlist in the army¡ªI wanted to be part of the most elite fighting force possible. I became a Recon Marine. When I returned to civilian life, I couldn¡¯t just go to the worksite every morning, hammering and nailing wood while my fat boss sat in his pickup truck, eating his lunch and watching us toil under the burning sun. So, I started my own construction company and ran my former boss out of business.
And I couldn¡¯t be in this game, tailored for ultimate competition, and just be a bystander. I¡¯d have done it for the competition alone, but there was something deeper within me that wanted to know¡ªno, needed to know¡ªwhy this game had been constructed and by whom. I needed to advance, to get to the answers. It was impossible to just shrug it off and return to 1984, go down to Santa Monica, and watch them pour concrete for the condos at Marina del Rey. I¡¯d pushed through a secret wall into a secret world, and I had to uncover all its mysteries.
I just had to.
¡°I¡¯ll pull out every stop and try to speed-level to 10 as soon as possible. Then, I¡¯ll enter the Battle Clash to get some serious leveling done.¡±
¡°And when you say advance as far as you can¡?¡±
¡°The Alpha Prime. This is a secret world, but nothing is secret to him. I want his position.¡±
She laughed incredulously.
¡°He¡¯s level 87. Do you understand how long it takes to get that far? For most, it¡¯s a lifetime project. He did it in less than three years, and you want to challenge him? You really think highly of yourself, Brad. And what about this grand plan of yours? You¡¯re entering the Battle Clash as a level 10? You¡¯ll have level 20s in your bracket, players who¡¯ve been here for years.¡±
¡°I¡¯m level 10. If they kill me, I lose nothing but my gear and credit, and I can get those back. What I¡¯ll gain is insight¡ªwhat it takes to succeed in the Clash. There¡¯s no faster way to level.¡±
¡°Or more difficult. You won¡¯t be fighting mindless mobs; you¡¯ll be fighting real people.¡±
¡°Yeah, and I did that in Nam too, and I¡¯m still here to talk about it.¡±
¡°You fought in Vietnam?¡±
¡°I did.¡±
¡°Oh, wow. For my generation, Vietnam is a movie genre, not a country. What did you do there?¡±
¡°I was a Marine recon sniper.¡±
¡°Okay¡ that will give you a ton of levels in any ranged weapons in Elatrion from the get-go. Have you been there yet?¡±
That pretty much confirmed my theory about me starting at level 12 in archery skills. Shooting a bow was much different from firing a rifle, but there were similarities as well.
¡°Not since the tutorial. I¡¯ve been grinding dungeons in Windersmyr.¡±
¡°Not a bad choice, but with your skill set, you should dip your toes into Elatrion as well. There are some powerful places there to get levels and loot.¡±
¡°And the Haunted Mansion?¡±
She grimaced, shaking her head.
¡°Can¡¯t help you there, hun. I went once and never again. Not my jam. That place is just¡ it¡¯s fucking horrible. No sane person would put themselves through that hell.¡±
¡°There¡¯s good loot there, people say.¡±
¡°There is. But no one has ever returned with anything to show for it.¡±
¡°What loot can you find there?¡±
¡°Multiverse loot. The bizarre thing is, you can¡¯t use any of it at the Mansion itself. They starve you for ammo and make you fight the undead with your bare hands. People don¡¯t die there; they just bail when they see what they have to face. There are easier ways to get loot than fighting the undead for it.¡±
The Haunted Mansion sounded promising, but that was for later.
The next morning, I followed the Musketeers to the square. When they veered left, I nodded to indicate I was going right.
¡°Elatrion?¡± Rick asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Good luck, brother. That place is too intense for me.¡±
¡°Me too,¡± Michael said. Mort added, ¡°Aye.¡±
My fancy legendary sword was a multiverse weapon and would serve me as well in Elatrion as in Windersmyr¡ªmaybe even better if Sarah¡¯s descriptions of my intended leveling areas were accurate.
So, the plan: spend the day in Korea Town in Elatrion, complete a basic mission fighting low-level mobs with black-market ray guns, take down the area boss, and then return to Windersmyr the next day to clear mid-level dungeons. My legendary sword would need to carry me since I¡¯d be severely out-leveled by the mobs there. After that, I¡¯d see how close I was to level 10. If I was still far off, I¡¯d join a quest in Windersmyr to finally hit level 10 and gather some juicy loot. Once I reached level 10, I¡¯d enlist in the Battle Clash and roll the dice.
Sounds easy enough, right? Yeah, but things rarely are.
The carrier took off, pulling at my guts as usual. I kept my eyes shut until I felt that familiar lift in the seat. Then I looked out at the curved horizon. Soon the descent began¡ªthe carrier twisting in a steep bank, walls creaking and seats rattling.
An urban sprawl of light appeared through the dark clouds. Water streaked backward across the windows as we passed through the clouds. Then we touched down.
The carrier doors hissed open, and a man in uniform popped his head in, barking, ¡°Disembark! Form up at the parade square!¡±
We scrambled off and jogged toward the parade square, a large concrete slab that looked like the remnants of a tenement building. Broken concrete and bricks surrounded it, with flames flickering from dented barrels.
A faint drizzle hung in the air, and the place had none of Longbourn¡¯s inviting warmth. Tall buildings loomed above, scattered lights running up their fa?ades, spilling out through windows. It felt more like early morning than night.
We formed a jumbled mess on the slab. For me, it was as easy as snapping my fingers to slip back into the role of soldier. Unfortunately, the same couldn¡¯t be said for my brothers-in-arms. They looked like they¡¯d never formed a straight line in their lives.
The army sergeant marched down the line, barking and screaming, tugging at uniforms and rearranging the soldiers. The tag above his short-cropped head read:
Sergeant Watts (NPC)
He stopped in front of me, glaring with his blue eyes.
¡°What are you looking at,
maggot!¡±
¡°Nothing, sir!¡±
I knew how to handle a drill sergeant.
¡°I¡¯m
nothing to you? Is that it, maggot!¡±
¡°Sir, no, sir!¡±
¡°I¡¯ll be watching you, recruit,¡± he said, coming so close our noses almost touched. ¡°I don¡¯t like your fucking attitude. Got it?¡±
¡°Sir, yes, sir!¡±
And that was how you handled a drill sergeant¡ªalways answer the question while shouting ¡°sir!¡± at the top of your lungs.
He continued down the line, harassing a boy who was visibly shaking.
Goddamn, how real all this felt.
Above, three gray aircraft, resembling troop transports, floated with that weird mumbling sound toward a cluster of high-rises farther away. Flashes of green and purple erupted in the distance. A battle was raging over there. This wasn¡¯t like sweeping over Da Nang in a Huey with an M60 machine gun pointed out the side door, but my body reacted the same way. I was mentally gearing up for battle.
I glanced to the right. Not a soul above level 3.
I glanced to the left. Not a single soul above level 4, and no one looked older than twenty.
¡°Ahhh-
right!¡± the sergeant bellowed. ¡°Gang wars have spiraled out of control. The Triads are wreaking havoc in Korea Town. Decent people are scared¡ªwon¡¯t even leave their homes. The police have asked for our assistance. ¡®Can¡¯t manage on their own,¡¯ you say? ¡®Not a job for the army,¡¯ you say? ¡®You have better things to do,¡¯ you say? Well, swallow your
fuckin¡¯ pride, Space Marines, and go clear that area out!¡±
¡°Sir, yes, sir!¡± we screamed in unison.
¡°Private Orlov! Private Richards! Private Winter! Step forward!¡±
I had no idea what was going on, but this was the army, and when your name was called, you did as you were told. I, along with a lanky guy with an impressive beak of a nose and a Black guy built like a tank, stepped forward.
¡°You three are squad leaders. Squad 1!¡± he bellowed, pointing at Orlov, the lanky guy. ¡°Squad 2!¡± he barked, chopping his hand in my direction. ¡°Squad 3!¡± he finished, gesturing toward Winter.
I turned back to the parade square. The usual blue name tags had been divided into three different colors: green, blue, and yellow. All the guys with blue tags now had the prefix ¡°S2.¡±
I looked at
Adam Scott, lvl. 2 ¨C S2, the kid shaking nervously. He met my gaze with an anxious smile. All in all, I¡¯d been given command over eight guys. What the hell was I supposed to do with them? They didn¡¯t look like they¡¯d hold up under pressure. They looked like the kind of guys who¡¯d show you a picture of their girlfriend and talk about marriage¡ªright before getting blown to pieces by a mortar shell.
¡°You an army man?¡± Winter asked.
I nodded. ¡°Marines. And you?¡±
¡°Specialist Mark Winter, 11B Infantry.¡±
A veteran like me, then. Good to know. Orlov, it turned out, was a weekend warrior in the National Guard.
¡°Guess we know why we were selected as squad leaders, then,¡± Orlov said.
¡°Yeah,¡± I nodded.
¡°Shut your mouths and listen!¡± the sergeant yelled. ¡°You need to work together to clear this place out. All loot is shared, with a little extra for the squad leaders¡ªso no need to get greedy. Work as a unit, or I¡¯ll fuck you up when you return!¡±
We pulled up our maps. As in Windersmyr, the areas we hadn¡¯t visited were blacked out, but we could see three distinct pathways.
¡°I¡¯ll take the left route,¡± Orlov said.
¡°I¡¯ll take the center,¡± I said, leaving the right path for Winter.
¡°Keep in mind,¡± Winter added, ¡°our paths may weave into each other. We need to avoid friendly fire.¡±
¡°Okay then,¡± I said. ¡°Let''s get this show started.¡±
Chapter 9
After bumping fists, we turned to our squads. I pulled my guys aside.
¡°What do you have for weapons?¡± I asked.
One guy had a nine-millimeter, and another guy,
Mark Taews, lvl 3 ¨C S2, had a plasma gun that looked like it came from a toy store. It had no charge. The rest had simple multiverse weaponry like daggers and iron swords.
¡°I thought they¡¯d issue ray guns when we got here,¡±
Keith Garmer, lvl. 3 ¨C S2, complained. ¡°All I got is this stupid stick.¡±
¡°It¡¯s not stupid. It¡¯s a bo stick,¡±
Lars Andersson, lvl. 2 ¨C S2, said with a heavy Nordic accent. ¡°Really useful if you know how to handle it.¡±
¡°Well, if you want it, I¡¯ll trade it for that sword of yours,¡± Keith shot back testily.
¡°That¡¯s enough, guys. You, how many rounds do you have for that gun?¡±
Jason Oblach, lvl. 3 ¨C S2, stepped forward.
¡°Four rounds¡ sir.¡±
¡°Okay, you and I will take point. The rest of you, keep your eyes peeled for enemies and traps, okay? We need to scavenge weapons as we go.¡±
¡°Yeah, but¡ª¡±
I pulled out Laridian¡¯s Edge, its amber glow casting a nimbus of light around us.
¡°
Ooohh-kay,¡± Keith said. ¡°Feeling a little better about this now.¡±
The sword was legendary for a reason. It bumped my attack score from 1,721 to a massive 2,892, and its glow had special properties. When I swung it, the glow followed like a draft, absorbing energy from destruction magic and energy weapons. It offered no protection against ballistic weapons, though.
¡°You guys ready?¡± Orlov asked.
I nodded, and so did Winter.
We set off.
Winter took his men down a narrow street to the left, and Orlov led his down a street to the right. Ahead, a building had collapsed, most of the second floor avalanching out through the cracked wall of the first floor. The building didn¡¯t look safe, but "safe" was a relative term in a dark maze where armed people were trying to kill you.
Well, whatever¡ªI had no choice. I had to lead my guys through these broken buildings.
We advanced, Jason and I at the front. His knuckles were white around the grip of his pistol, and it looked like he might squeeze off a shot at any moment.
¡°Remember, conserve your ammo,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot unless you¡¯re sure you¡¯ll hit the target. Those four bullets in your gun are all we have for ranged attacks. ¡¯Kay?¡±
He nodded.
¡°¡¯Kay.¡±
From the outside, to our left, came the aggressive rattle of something that sounded like a machine gun. Winter was under fire. The guys around me looked nervous, their heads darting as they scanned the area.
Up ahead, light shone through a cracked wall. The upper floor was gone, and the height of the ceiling made the ruin feel like a church. Among the rubble, a shining silver box with visible rivets sat like a beacon. It was as big as a mini fridge¡ªa loot box.
¡°Hey, look at that!¡±
Ted Lawson, lvl. 2 ¨C S2, said as he shouldered past me and Jason.
¡°Wait!¡± I hissed.
A sharp crack rang out from the third floor, and Ted stumbled forward, most of his head blown clean off, before collapsing to the ground.
¡°Fuck, they got Ted!¡± someone yelled behind me.
Yes, because Ted was a fuckin¡¯ moron, I thought, gritting my teeth.
¡°Fall back! Behind the wall!¡± I screamed.
The guys dove for cover, and I plastered myself against the wall. Another crack sounded above, and a piece of the concrete corner vanished in a puff of dust, the bullet ricocheting wildly.
Someone shrieked.
¡°I¡¯m hit! I¡¯m hit!¡±
It was
Carl Peters, lvl. 3 ¨C S2. He squirmed on his stomach, clutching the back of his thigh.
¡°You,¡± I said to the boy sitting closest to him¡ª
Larry Maloney, lvl. 2 ¨C S2¡ªwho was holding a pair of tonfas, his eyes wide and scared. ¡°Does he need a stim pack?¡±
Larry took a quick look.
¡°It hit him in the ass.¡±
The guys took the opportunity to laugh, a nervous release of tension.
¡°Doesn¡¯t look that bad,¡± Larry added.
¡°I¡¯m fuckin¡¯ shot in the ass! How can it not be bad?¡± Carl yelled.
I checked the in-game stats. Carl¡¯s health bar was down to orange.
¡°Give him a stim pack,¡± I ordered. ¡°He¡¯ll slow us down if we have to drag him, and we¡¯re not leaving anyone behind.¡±
Larry pulled a syringe from the party¡¯s joint inventory and jabbed it into Carl¡¯s ass. He pressed the plunger, and Carl¡¯s health bar returned to green.
¡°So, what now?¡±
Mark Taews, lvl. 3 ¨C S2, asked. ¡°This is the only way through, and that guy up there will take our heads off if we try to make a run for it.¡±
¡°Not to mention that delicious loot chest,¡± Keith said. ¡°I need better gear. This stupid stick doesn¡¯t do anything here.¡±
¡°Well¡ª¡± Lars started.
¡°This stupid
bo stick won¡¯t do anything here. Happy?¡± Keith shot back.
Lars shrugged.
I tuned out their bickering, thinking about the report I¡¯d heard from the sniper¡¯s gun. It was a rifle. If I could just get my hands on it¡
My sword was great, but it didn¡¯t offer protection from ballistic weapons. Sarah had said the enemies in this section would be armed with plasma guns, but she''d been here years ago, and might¡¯ve gotten things mixed up. With that rifle, I could take down targets at a distance. With the sword, I could finish them up close.
I scanned the walls.
¡°You guys, stay put. I¡¯m going to grab that rifle, okay?¡±
They stared at me like I¡¯d lost my mind.
¡°Grab¡ the
rifle? If a guy has a rifle and you don¡¯t, you don¡¯t just
grab it. It doesn¡¯t work like that, even in a video game,¡± Keith said.
¡°Thanks for the insight. Just stay here and don¡¯t do anything stupid.¡±
¡°Right, boss,¡± Keith said, giving a mock salute.
I went back to the previous room, where the floor had collapsed and sloped down toward the entrance like a broken concrete tongue, with rebar sticking out of the gaps. The collapse had pushed the entrance wall out a good five feet. When I climbed up onto the tilted floor, I saw a clear path to the second floor.
I crouched and moved as silently as I could. Through a warped doorframe, I saw the sliver of the second floor that remained. Below, Ted Lawson¡¯s headless corpse lay in a pool of blood.
If the sniper was any good, he¡¯d be at the far end of the third floor, covering as much ground as possible.
I hugged the back wall as I moved along the ledge of the second floor, keeping out of the sniper¡¯s scope. At the corner of the room, I paused and scanned for a way up.
I spotted a rickety wooden ladder leaning against the edge of the broken floor above. The middle section of the third floor was gone, leaving the sniper on an island of concrete. There was no way to reach him without making noise.
Fuck.
I needed eyes on him to decide my next move.
I crept toward the ladder, careful not to kick loose concrete or crunch debris underfoot. When I reached the ladder, I began ascending silently. Just one creak of the wood would give me away.
Clinging to the top rung, I took a moment to steady myself, wet my lips, and popped my head up, bracing for the sight of the sniper, rifle pointed my way, muzzle flashing.
But no¡ªhe was lying on his stomach, legs splayed, hunched over the rifle, which was still aimed at the room below.
The tag above his head read:
Triad Sniper, lvl. 9
Level 9. The highest-level mob I¡¯d encountered so far, aside from the Death Knight boss. Did mob levels scale based on my level or the party¡¯s combined level? I didn¡¯t know, but if level 9s were the norm here, I¡¯d lose a lot of my guys.
I could see from this distance that it wasn¡¯t a proper sniper rifle. It had a scope, though, and I¡¯d have more use for it than the asshole currently staring through it.
Behind him, in the corner, sat another loot box¡ªthis one gold.
The gap between my ledge and his was jumpable, but I¡¯d need a sprint to make it. He¡¯d hear me, but it takes time to react to sound. He was on his stomach¡ªit¡¯d be awkward and slow for him to swing his rifle around to fire.
Well, here goes nothing.
I climbed the last rung, crouched on the ledge, and eyed the sniper. If only I still had my bow¡ªand maybe some more Character Points in Attack Speed.
I drew my steel dagger, rose, and took a few light steps before breaking into a sprint. My boots grated against the sandy concrete floor, and the sniper¡¯s shoulders tensed.
I pumped my legs, cutting the air with my hands. The gap opened before me, and I pushed off.
The sniper was quicker than I expected, his mouth drawn down in a grimace as he swung his rifle toward me.
Crap.
I hit the floor and dove into a forward roll.
The bang rattled the air, and the bullet whirred past me, pinging off the wall.
I leapt out of the roll¡ªfeeling, in my mind, like an attacking panther¡ªand stabbed at his face.
The knife cracked his cheekbone, blood gushing from his nose as he sagged over his rifle. My view lit up with achievements scrolling toward the ceiling:
Achievement unlocked: Brought a Sword to a Gunfight ¨C Awarded for taking out a ranged unit with a blade.
Achievement unlocked: Bulletproof ¨C Awarded for dodging a bullet.
Achievement unlocked: Pure Savagery ¨C Awarded for killing an enemy in close combat two levels above your own.
Achievement unlocked: Pure Savagery 2 ¨C Awarded for killing an enemy in close combat three levels above your own.
Achievement unlocked: Pure Savagery 3 ¨C Awarded for killing an enemy in close combat four levels above your own.
Achievement unlocked: Infantryman ¨C Awarded for killing a gunpowder-based enemy.
A stream of XP followed, leaving me virtually on the edge of level 6.
¡°You alive up there, boss?¡±
¡°Yeah, I grabbed the rifle.¡±
A few moments of silence were followed by hooting and celebrating. I would¡¯ve preferred strict professionalism and silence, but I couldn¡¯t help smiling.
I picked up the rifle. As I¡¯d suspected, it wasn¡¯t a sniper rifle but an M1 Garand¡ªan old WWII rifle. It loaded with a clip of eight bullets. Old, but reliable. Properly maintained, its firing mechanism never jammed.
When I held it, the stats for all my shooting-related abilities floated up in my view:
- Sniper Rifle (Ballistic): 57
- Sniper Rifle (Plasma): 32
- EMRG Rifle: 0
- Assault Rifle (Gunpowder): 24
- Assault Rifle (Plasma): 17
I¡¯d fired an EMRG Rifle during the tutorial. I thought I¡¯d done well, but apparently, I sucked at it. My ranged weapon stats still looked juicy, though.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I approached the golden loot box in the corner and knelt. I was still searching for a locking mechanism when the box began to whirr. The top folded back, almost like a Transformer, and seven oblong balls rose from it, rotating in the air. Black with red stripes around the tops, they automatically entered the party¡¯s joint inventory.
I checked one:
Frag Grenades
Very effective in enclosed areas. Will shred everything within a twenty-foot radius.
¡°Wow, boss! Did you do that?¡± Keith hollered from below.
¡°I did. Now keep your mouth shut, or you¡¯ll alert every enemy in the area.¡±
On my way back, I looted the dead Triad sniper. I found another clip of ammo for the rifle, bringing my total to 12 bullets; 200 credits, giving me a grand total of 2,203 credits (whoop-de-do); a set of keys with an unknown purpose; and half a pack of smokes. I dumped it all in my inventory, along with the rifle.
It felt damn good seeing that rifle in there.
Before climbing down, I opened the skill tree for ranged weaponry and checked the branch for ballistic sniper rifles:
- Smooth as the Wind: 15/30/45 ¨C Reduces kickback by 15%. 3 skill points.
- Rapid Fire: 20/30/50 ¨C Makes reloading 15% faster. 3 skill points.
- Eye of the Hurricane: 50/75/100 ¨C Slows target speed by 15% when using a scope. 5 skill points.
- Metal Hammer: 50/75/100 ¨C Adds 15% extra piercing against armored targets. 5 skill points.
- Metal Slug: 50/75/100 ¨C Adds 50% extra damage to unarmored enemies. 5 skill points.
The one that caught my eye was Eye of the Hurricane, a Multiverse Ability. It had a direct equivalent in the Archery Skill Tree, doubling its value. Slowing targets by 15% while aiming through a scope or bow sights was huge. At max level, I could slow them to almost half speed, turning them into sitting ducks. I could already afford the first level, but did I need it?
My sniper rifle skill was already high for my level, and I didn¡¯t need the extra support just yet. I considered a Multiverse Skill called Unarmed Combat. In Carlin''s inventory I''d seen a wide assortment of metal braced gloves and gauntlets enchanted with all sorts of crazy stuff. It appealed to me that if I ever got into real trouble, and they took all my gear away, I could still put up a fight with my bare hands. It also aligned well with my focus on the Strength stat.
But to make it viable, I¡¯d need to start taking enemies down bare-handed, which was easier said than done. For now, I had nine unassigned Skill Points and decided to hold onto them.
When my inventory popped back up, I saw riot gear, helmets, batons, reinforced gloves, and a heavy riot shield with a slit of plexiglass at the top. The guys had opened the loot box.
I climbed back down to find them in their riot gear, marveling at the frag grenades and miming throwing motions.
¡°Playing with the new toys, huh?¡±
They grinned.
¡°Remember, don¡¯t use those in confined spaces. The shockwave will kill us all¡ªif the shrapnel doesn¡¯t.¡±
¡°But if the enemy is in a confined space and we¡¯re not?¡± Keith asked.
¡°Then throw until your arm goes numb.¡±
I equipped my riot gear, which gave me a slight defense bump but no boost to attack. There was riot gear for everyone, but only one riot shield. I had Lars hand it to Jason.
¡°You hold it like this,¡± I said, slipping my left arm through the straps and hunkering behind the shield to look through the slot. ¡°That leaves your right hand free to shoot the pistol. It takes practice, but you¡¯ll get the hang of it.¡±
He better¡ªhe only had four bullets.
¡°You¡¯ll take point, and I¡¯ll follow half a step behind. ¡¯Kay?¡±
Jason nodded, looking pale.
I led the group deeper into the crumbling buildings. We crossed the collapsed floor of the second room and emerged into a moonlit area where the building had been swept aside, as if by a giant¡¯s hand. Scattered boxes and barrels dotted the open space.
Well, did this ever feel like a trap?
I glanced over my shoulder at Larry and Keith, then pointed to a metal box on the right before directing the others to a piece of broken concrete that looked like part of the roof''s structure.
¡°You and I, Jason. We¡¯re going for that center crate.¡±
¡°That¡¯s far.¡±
¡°Better get moving then,¡± I said, giving the back of his shoulder a shove.
We set off, fanning out in three directions. The minimap lit up with red dots¡ªmore than I could count at a glance. The guys on the sides dropped into cover, but Jason was running too slow with his shield. Way too slow. Fuck. A mistake on my part. My strength and endurance far out-leveled Jason¡¯s. I should¡¯ve been the one on point with the shield. Too late to fix that now.
Excited chatter erupted from the enemy, followed by the first shot. A purple beam lit up the area.
Plasma weapons.
Finally.
Three of the red dots crept down the right side of a large crate, hugging the wall toward the next set of crates. They passed one of the barrels¡ªdark, rust-red in the dim light.
¡°Fire at that barrel!¡± I shouted to Jason.
He squeezed off a round. The report of the gun sounded pitiful. A puff of red brick bloomed up in front of the barrel.
¡°Again! Hurry!¡± The group of enemies was almost at the barrel now.
Jason fired again, the muzzle flash leaving a blue afterglow in my vision. He had missed again. The first enemy passed between the barrel and the wall.
¡°Again!¡±
Jason fired a third time.
Bang!
The barrel exploded in a flash of white fire, the shockwave hitting me like a fist to the chest. The second enemy was smeared against the wall, and the one who managed to slip by went airborne¡ªa black shadow twisting in the air, arms and legs flailing. The third Triad was knocked back as if clobbered in the face. Something told me he wouldn¡¯t be getting up.
¡°Whooo! Did you
see that?¡± Jason hooted.
¡°I did. Now get into cover,¡± I said, giving his shoulder another shove.
When we reached the crate, I noticed the tag above Jason¡¯s head had changed:
Jason Oblach, lvl. 3 ¨C S2
¡°Congrats on the new level, soldier,¡± I said, patting his shoulder as we pressed our backs to the metal crate.
¡°Thanks, boss. Got a slew of new achievements too. Apparently, I¡¯m a master bomber now,¡± he grinned.
The enemy was chattering in Chinese, their green and blue plasma bolts lighting up the area. It was time for Laridian¡¯s Edge to prove its legendary status. I drew the sword, its amber glow illuminating the darkness behind the crate.
I stepped into the open. I spotted the outline of a head behind a crate farther down. A flash of green lit up the area. I sidestepped, swinging the sword left to right. The plasma bolt was caught in the sword¡¯s light draft, dissolving and making the glow of the sword stronger.
Two more enemies fired at me. I swung the sword again. The ambient light grew stronger, lasting a fraction longer. It absorbed one bolt but, for some reason, deflected the other. The strange thing was ¨C plasma was light, yes, or energy at least. As soon as I saw a flash of light, that should mean I was dead, but it didn¡¯t work like that. When I saw the flash of a gun fired, I had the fraction of a second to react and I found that was enough.
I charged the line of boxes, swinging left to right, absorbing plasma or deflecting it like some bizarre disco ball. The achievement bell pinged like crazy.
I jumped the first crate, slicing down on two Triads hiding behind it. My sword scorched clean through them. The enemies¡¯ eager chatter now carried a tint of fear.
I cleared the area and stood amidst the carnage, panting, sweat stinging my eyes. It smelled like a late summer evening barbecue.
When the fighting was done, all my achievements poured in at once, along with XP and credits. My level shot from 5 to 6 and nearly reached 7. The guys hooted and slapped my back before rushing to loot the corpses.
Everything went into the joint inventory. Among the spoils were three plasma guns labeled:
Spark Acha ¨C Plasma Weapon, Energy Level 1
And four more labeled:
Kraw 9 ¨C Plasma Weapon, Energy Level 1
There were enough yellow energy cells to fully charge all the weapons, including the drained energy gun that Mark had brought:
Kraw 12 ¨C Plasma Weapon, Energy Level 2
Mark, for obvious reasons, chose to hang onto it.
I grabbed one of the Kraw 9s and weighed it in my hand. It was almost weightless, and the plastic creaked when I squeezed it.
¡°Okay, we can afford to fire a few practice shots,¡± I said.
I aimed at a metal crate and pulled the trigger. The muzzle¡¯s metal ring, discolored from repeated heat, glowed green as the gun charged for half a second before releasing the bolt.
Now I understood why I¡¯d been able to react to the enemies¡¯ shots. The charge delay gave just enough time to move.
The others followed my example, and soon the crate was scorched black. I would¡¯ve thought our combined fire would¡¯ve melted it by now. Were these guns even lethal? I hoped we wouldn¡¯t have to find out.
Heavy fighting erupted from both the left and right, followed by another earth-shaking bang¡ªlikely another barrel explosion.
¡°We¡¯re lagging behind. Let¡¯s go.¡±
We cleared out another room of Triads without taking any casualties. Keith was hit in the right shoulder, but as expected, the plasma blast wasn¡¯t lethal. The force threw him to the ground, and he clutched his shoulder, teeth clenched, smoke seeping through his fingers. It wasn¡¯t pretty¡ªhis uniform jacket was burned through, the skin beneath blistered black, and the blood bubbled at the wound.
One stim pack later, he was back on his feet, unloading his pistol on the advancing Triads. I handled most of them with Laridian¡¯s Edge, the sword cleaving through them like a scythe.
As we advanced through the room, white markers appeared in the dark area ahead, signaling the other teams. My group was the last to arrive. Winter and Orlov nodded at me, their squads already in position.
¡°Any casualties?¡± Winter asked.
¡°One. Sniper fire,¡± I replied.
¡°We lost two,¡± Orlov said grimly. ¡°One to sniper fire, the other to a plasma bolt right through the thorax.¡±
¡°Ouch.¡±
¡°No casualties here,¡± Winter added, a hint of pride in his voice.
Ahead was a series of sliding doors, like the entrance to a shopping mall. I couldn¡¯t see much beyond them. It was too dark, and the minimap showed little detail. From what I could make out, it looked like a large circular area.
¡°What do you guys think?¡± I asked.
Winter shrugged. ¡°Feels like a big baddie is waiting in there to squash us.¡±
¡°My thought exactly,¡± Orlov said, looking grim.
We compared inventories. The other two squads had gathered similar loot¡ªplasma guns, yellow energy cells, and assorted gear¡ªbut Orlov¡¯s squad hadn¡¯t managed to loot their sniper rifle.
¡°We got the sniper with a frag grenade,¡± Orlov explained. ¡°Cost us one guy to get those grenades, though. Couldn¡¯t find a way up to loot the rifle. Stupid mistake.¡±
¡°These plasma guns are so goddamn weak,¡± Winter muttered. ¡°Whatever¡¯s in there, I¡¯ll try to take it down with the rifle.¡±
¡°Same here,¡± I said. Turning to my team, I added, ¡°We don¡¯t know what¡¯s in there, but Winter and I will hang back with the rifles. The rest of you, get into cover and be ready. Once we identify the threat, we¡¯ll hit it hard.¡±
They nodded. I exchanged glances with the other squad leaders. Everyone was ready.
We approached the doors. They slid open with a mechanical hiss.
We stepped through.
The doors didn¡¯t
slide shut behind us¡ªthey slammed with a heavy thump, followed by the distinct click of a locking mechanism. The lights flickered to life, revealing a deserted food court. It was immaculately clean, so pristine it looked like no one had ever been there.
Through a pergola entwined with fake ivy, I saw a door swing open at the far end.
A hulking figure emerged.
I whipped the rifle to my shoulder and stared down the scope.
The man was enormous, dressed in a tank top and army fatigues. His black hair was cut short in the military style, the top of his head flat like a runway. But what caught my attention¡ªwhat made me
freeze¡ªwas his right arm.
It had been replaced by a mini gun.
¡°What the fuck¡¡± I murmured, watching as he disappeared behind a white-painted concrete column.
¡°Did you see that?¡± I asked Winter.
¡°The guy with a mini gun for an arm? Yeah, I saw him. As soon as he pops out to wind that thing up, I¡¯ll take the shot.¡±
But the man didn¡¯t pop out.
Instead, the low whir of the mini gun spinning up began behind the column, rising to a howl. He stepped out, mouth open in a scream, eyes squeezed into slits. His right arm was obscured by the jagged star of the mini gun at full blast.
The room erupted.
He swept from right to left, sending ripple waves of splinters and shredded fabric through the room. I had him in my sights but the howling weapon and the streaks of super-heated bullets sweeping my direction like a scythe made me squeeze of the shot prematurely. It hit the pillar. I dove into cover. The maroon bench above me exploded in white splinters, the pillar behind turning to concrete dust.
Winter hunkered beside me, cradling his rifle, his eyes pinched shut.
On my HUD, health bars dropped to red. Two instances of
DEAD flashed in bold red letters. I didn¡¯t catch which of my guys had fallen.
Concrete dust stung my eyes as I blinked.
How the hell could this be a starter mission?
The red dot on the minimap was advancing¡ªfast.
I risked a glance.
He ¨C
Triad Boss level 14 ¨C came charging like a rhino, tossing shredded furniture left and right, grunting as he did.
¡°Grenades!¡± I hollered. ¡°Take him down now!¡±
Lars pulled the pin on one of his grenades and threw it in a perfect arc. Jason, next to him, fumbled his. The grenade spun out of his hand, landing at his feet.
He stared at it, wide-eyed, the ring to the pin still dangling from his finger.
Fuck.
I threw myself to the ground, hands pressed over my ears, mouth wide open.
I threw myself to the floor, hands pressed to my ears, mouth wide open to save my eardrums. The explosion ripped through me, a single streak of fire as a piece of shrapnel tore through my scalp.
On my HUD:
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
My ears were ringing, my body bruised from within. Winter sat slumped against the pillar, staring at his feet, a trickle of blood dripping from his mouth. Lars and Jason were just¡ªgone.
Through the swirling grey smoke, I spotted the Triad boss on one knee, shaking his head and leaning on his machine-gun arm for support. I felt wobbly, not quite there, but I realized the rifle wasn¡¯t in my hands. That much was clear. I took a long, hard look at my hands to be sure. My eyes drifted over the floor and landed on the rifle, half-buried under a heap of rubble.
My rifle.
My rifle?
My rifle!
I dove for it, yanked it free, and got to one knee. The Triad boss was back on his feet, his pained expression twisting into a smirk.
The scope was cracked, but I raised the rifle, angling the barrel toward him. He locked eyes with me, his black pupils narrowing, teeth bared.
I fired.
The bullet hit his right shoulder, spinning his torso a quarter turn. Slowly, he turned back to me, the smirk now a full grin.
I fired again.
His front teeth shattered, and his face seemed to collapse inward. His knees buckled, and he fell forward, hitting the ground hard.
More achievements, more XP, and a level up to 7¡ªbut at that moment, none of it mattered. I was rattled by the encounter. Most of my team was dead, and the survivors were in bad shape.
I went from soldier to soldier, administering stim packs. Once everyone was back in the green, nobody felt like celebrating. Orlov was still alive, along with two of his men and three from Winter¡¯s squad. From my team, only Keith and Larry Maloney were still breathing. Keith shook his head and tried to smile, but it didn¡¯t land.
¡°What a ride that was,¡± he said, pale and blood-smeared.
And then, we looted the corpses of our fallen friends.
It weren¡¯t really them, I told myself,.Just digital representations of them. They were probably already respawned and off on new, exciting adventures. That thought actually helped as I filled my inventory.
I¡¯d planned to grind the rest of the day, but this fight had drained me completely. I needed rest. I shook hands with the remaining guys, told them they did well, and left.
I wandered down a side street toward the ocean I¡¯d glimpsed during our landing. I wasn¡¯t about to spend 200 credits on transport back to Breaker City when I planned to return the next day. My credits were up to 2,866, and I decided to save both time and money by finding a room in Elatrion for the night.
I found a shoddy-looking three-story hotel on a side street, its sign glowing in purple neon. The room was 800 credits a night¡ªhighway robbery¡ªbut I wasn¡¯t in the mood to haggle. I handed over the credits to the smiling NPC, went upstairs, and collapsed face-first onto the bed.
After a while, when the¡ had it been shock? I think it was. That disorientation and the creeping fatigue in my body¡ªI recognized it. It was remarkable how deep this game went. To actually die inside it... I could understand how it might fry someone¡¯s brain.
When the fatigue lifted, I went through my inventory to check the loot I¡¯d gathered during the day and opened a row of shining loot boxes from my achievements.
I had three bronze boxes, two silver ones, and one gold for taking down the boss.
The bronze boxes popped stim packs and energy cells¡ªuseful, but nothing exciting. The first silver box revealed:
Renegade Mark 2 ¨C Plasma Gun, Energy Level 3.
Nice! That one got into one of my hotkey slots.
And then ¨C drum roll please ¨C the gold chest. It opened in a puff of swirling gold and out of it rose a metal harness, painted in battle worn camo.
Eagle Fury Battle Harness ¨C Reduces ballistic weapon damage by 25%.
Now that¡¯s what I call loot.
I had the sword for protection against energy weapons, and now the harness would shield me from ballistic ones. I checked its info, hoping it might be multiverse¡ªsomething that could also protect me from arrows in Windersmyr¡ªbut no such luck. A good day¡¯s haul, nonetheless.
I had a pile of useless level-1 guns and planned to unload them at a trader at the first opportunity. It looked like the loot had been split evenly among the surviving party members because I also had two frag grenades and two measly rounds for the rifle.
The broken scope annoyed me. I¡¯d need to buy a new one, and something told me it wouldn¡¯t be cheap.
Chapter 10
I slept like I¡¯d been sedated and woke up the next morning to sunlight seeping through the curtains. The building rumbled as something large passed overhead, and the room fell back into shadows. I sprang out of bed and whipped the curtains to the side. A large gray aircraft floated above the flat roofs, humming softly as it moved toward the Citadel. I relaxed and stumbled back to bed. For a moment, I wasn¡¯t sure where I was¡ªin my room in Breaker City or at the bungalow in Brentwood. But no, I was in Elatrion, on the rough outskirts of the futuristic city.
For a brief moment, the sheer weirdness and impossibility of it all threatened to twist my mind inside out. Less than a week ago, I¡¯d been at City Hall, discussing a project on a piece of property I¡¯d been sitting on for too long. I¡¯d been down at Marina del Rey overseeing another project, bitter and pissed off about my cheating girlfriend. Ordinary life stuff. This was the furthest thing from ordinary life.
My heart gave a sudden double thump of pure excitement. Most of the time, I couldn¡¯t grasp the full scope of what was happening to me. But in moments like this, my dull, grown-up brain gave way to the boy I¡¯d once been¡ªbefore Nam, before Melinda, before the business ventures and the responsibilities. I was living the boyhood dream of stepping into a magical world where I could be whatever I wanted. The weight of real life was gone, replaced by the lightness of a world that felt like a giant playground laid out just for me.
The plan for the day: find a quick breakfast, then head out into the city to grind some levels and get my credits¡¯ worth for this overpriced room.
But where?
I opened the city map and scanned the districts of Elatrion. The Black Citadel lay at the center, surrounded by expanding layers of concentric circles¡ªthe epicenter from which all the city¡¯s major roads stretched. I switched to a 3D view and zoomed in on the Citadel. Green lines with a faint shine outlined its massive structure. It was taller than any high-rise in the US. But it wasn¡¯t just tall; it was built in chunky stages, the base covering the largest circle on the map and tapering off in segments to a top crowned with a flashing red beacon, visible day or night. This was the base of operations for the Emperor of Elatrion. I hadn¡¯t yet figured out if the Emperor was an NPC or an actual player. I needed to ask Sarah about that.
I zoomed out from the tower and scanned the surroundings. Points of interest were marked with yellow dots, and when I zoomed in further, they became color-coded. Blue marked social points like bars, restaurants, moneylenders, and bookies. Red marked mission points. Rick had told me that Elatrion worked similarly to Windersmyr. There was a main quest to follow, but the world was littered with side missions offering rewards and XP.
I needed a mission within walking distance. I was sure there were taxis and buses, but I didn¡¯t feel like parting with more credits. Three missions stood out:
- The Gauntlet ¨C Fight waves of enemies (recommended level: 8-10).
- Taking Care of Business ¨C Clear out the dockside warehouse (recommended level: 6-10).
- Catch the Rat ¨C Capture or kill a Yakuza snitch for great rewards (recommended level: 6-10).
As I pondered my options, my glance drifted to another, underused menu option. I tapped it, and within moments, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to let Alara in.
She gave me a sideways glance, as if expecting me to waste her time.
¡°Good morning, Alara. Looking as beautiful as ever,¡± I said, flashing a smile.
She didn¡¯t care for it, but smiling at a beautiful girl was still a good way to start the day.
¡°Oh, Brad, you really know how to set a girl¡¯s heart on fire. How can I help you?¡±
¡°Help me decide.¡± I shared the map with her, pointing out my three options. ¡°Which one will give me the most XP?¡±
¡°The Gauntlet. Not only because it¡¯s the hardest of the three, but also because of how it¡¯s structured. The waves of enemies won¡¯t stop¡ªthey¡¯ll keep coming until you die or bail out. And by bailing out, I mean reaching a safe room to leave the mission. During combat, you won¡¯t have that option, so plan accordingly.¡±
¡°Got it.¡±
¡°In the Gauntlet, you¡¯ll start in a corridor with a safe room to your right. You can play it safe and stay there, picking enemies off, but if you¡¯re serious about earning XP, you¡¯ll need to push forward. The hallway is divided into ten zones, and each zone acts as an XP multiplier.¡±
¡°So if I reach Zone 10, I¡¯ll get 10 times the XP?¡±
¡°Yes, but you won¡¯t. Zone 10 is whale territory.¡±
¡°Whale? What does that mean?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t worry about it¡ªyou¡¯re not one. But the Gauntlet scales well for lower-level players. Normally, a level 7 like you would be stuck in Zone 1 until hitting level 10, but if you¡¯re skilled, you might manage Zone 3 for a while before having to bail out.¡±
It sounded like a great deal.
¡°Another plus: the Gauntlet is repeatable. The other missions aren¡¯t. Once you complete them, they¡¯re gone.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Even better.
¡°Sounds like a plan, then.¡±
¡°Good. Anything else I can help you with?¡±
Actually, yes.
I felt overwhelmed with information, like I was seeing everything through a microscope. I needed scope and context. Who was the Emperor of Elatrion? How big was Elatrion? And Windersmyr? Was there any form of government, or was it survival of the fittest?
¡°I was in Windersmyr the other day, running through a dungeon in the mountains,¡± I said.
It sounded so casual, didn¡¯t it? Just running through a dungeon. Killed a Death Knight twice my level. You know, that sorta thing. Was I actually trying to impress her? Impress a girl who wasn¡¯t a girl at all but rather an advanced bundle of code? No, I wasn¡¯t that stupid. Was I?
¡°I met a level 27 player in Longbourn. An orc. High-level players don¡¯t show up in Longbourn often¡ªthey have so many other entry points into Windersmyr. That got me wondering. How big is Windersmyr, and how many entry points does it have?¡±
¡°Is there a reason you¡¯re asking this now?¡±
I didn¡¯t feel like explaining my plan to enter the Battle Clash, but since it was set in Windersmyr, I needed as much information as possible.
¡°No real reason. Knowledge is easy to carry, right?¡±
She gave me a faint smile. ¡°Right. Okay, Brad, this isn¡¯t classified, so I¡¯ll indulge you.¡± She flicked her hand, and a translucent map materialized in the center of the room, filling it wall to wall. It displayed a sprawling landmass, crisscrossed with rivers, borders, and labeled regions.
¡°This is Windersmyr. It¡¯s roughly the size of Europe.¡±
My jaw dropped. The size of Europe? A real, full-sized continent?
¡°Longbourn is here, in the southeast of the Kingdom of Cimbria,¡± she said, lighting up a blue dot on the map. ¡°The dungeon you visited was here, in the Kingdom of Warnheim.¡± Another blue dot appeared, far to the north.
If Windersmyr was the size of Europe, then Longbourn was somewhere around Romania, and the dungeon was in Sweden. Holy hell. Sarah had been way off when she said it was a week-long trek from Longbourn to the dungeon. I realized then that there were parts of Windersmyr I¡¯d never get to see¡ªthe majority of it, in fact. It boggled the mind.
¡°There¡¯s too much to explain about Windersmyr,¡± Alara continued. ¡°Too much for you to process all at once. What I can tell you is that the most powerful kingdom in Windersmyr is Cimbria. It¡¯s also the largest, spanning from the Arcane Sea in the west to the South Sea in the south, and east to the Helada River, which forms the border with the Kingdom of Berenica.¡±
¡°There are actual kingdoms in the game?¡±
¡°There are, but they¡¯re not important for you to know about at this stage of your experience. They¡¯ll play key roles in future storylines.¡±
¡°And Elatrion? Is it as massive as Windersmyr?¡±
¡°Oh no, not at all. If Windersmyr is the size of Europe, Elatrion is more like the size of Los Angeles in 1984.¡±
I nodded, filing that away. ¡°And the king of Cimbria? If it¡¯s a kingdom, I assume there¡¯s a king?¡±
¡°There is. The Vonsvirates family has ruled Cimbria for seven generations. The current monarch is Davidian Vonsvirates Catcha, married to Princess Misa Vonsvirates Catcha of House Leones from Berenica.¡±
¡°That¡¯s a mouthful.¡±
¡°It usually is with royalty.¡±
¡°They¡¯re NPCs, I assume?¡±
She hesitated, tilting her head.
¡°What?¡± I asked.
¡°This information is a little premature, but I don¡¯t see the harm in telling you. The Vonsvirates family, like the rest of the aristocracy in Windersmyr, aren¡¯t ordinary NPCs. They¡¯re what we call nPACs.¡±
¡°nPACs?¡±
¡°Yes. It stands for Non-Playable Active Characters. nPACs have their own agendas and aren¡¯t controlled by Game Control. It¡¯s unlikely you¡¯ll ever run into one, but if you do, stand aside. They follow their own rules and can be unpredictable.¡±
¡°Unpredictable how?¡±
¡°Unpredictable in the way humans are.¡±
¡°They¡¯re human?¡±
¡°They¡¯re not. They¡¯re NPCs with individual agendas. Whether that makes them human or not is a philosophical question.¡±
¡°Got it. And the Emperor of Elatrion? Is he an nPAC too?¡±
¡°He is. His name is Hadar Kertz, and he¡¯s not someone you want to cross. Of all the players, NPCs, and nPACs in the game, he¡¯s by far the most powerful.¡±
I let that sink in for a moment.
¡°Was there anything else you wanted to know?¡± she asked.
¡°One last thing.¡±
¡°Yes?¡±
¡°Can you recommend a good place for breakfast?¡±
I was sitting at the counter at Bernie¡¯s looking out at Rawleigh Street, munching a bacon sandwich. Car¡¯s sleek and beautiful passed soundlessly back and forth. I couldn¡¯t see the joints for the doors, or the hood, and the windshield looked only like a lighter shade of grey. There were also as many aircrafts zipping back and forth, most of them heading in the direction of the Citadel. But inside Bernie¡¯s time was stuck in the 50¡¯s, the Jukebox in the corner at low volume, playing Chuck Berry, Bernie himself having a little white hat sitting askew on his head. On the other side of the street was a park with a sparkling little pond. That pond with the gravel road going around it for leisurely strolls didn¡¯t match my vision of the future, the cars on the street, and in the sky, did; and behind me Bernie was rubbing down his counter, representing the past. It was a mismatched experience. Was this someone else¡¯s take on the future, or
was
it the future? The 50¡¯s vibe in here a result of nostalgia? I had no clue, and I added that to the pile of no clues I already had. To keep sane in this environment, I had to stop thinking about all the things I didn¡¯t understand and focus on the next mission, and when that was completed, you went on to the next one. Just grind on, slow and steady, and stop for no one.
I wiped my mouth and chucked down the rest of the Coca-Cola ¨C
mmm, breakfast for champions ¨C and gave Bernie a wave before tinkling the bell above the door, leaving.
The Gauntlet was just up the street and I half expected there to be a line, like on the funfair where people lined up for the roller-coaster, but there was none. Another thing to add on the pile of no clues. This ought to be one of the most popular dungeons to grind, but no one was in the line to do it? It was the same with the mission yesterday. When walking over here, I passed the crumpled buildings where I yesterday had taken part in World War 3, collapsing walls left and right ¨C but the dilapidated buildings stood as they had before. No squads were gearing up to enter them, no screaming Sergeant Watts, no sounds of carnage coming from inside the buildings.
How?
Don¡¯t ask me, I have no clue.
I reached the pulsing red dot on my mini-map. In front of me stood a red brick building, three stories tall, with a faded company name in white paint stretched across its fa?ade. The windows were black and lifeless. On the far left of the ground floor was a dented metal door.
I really wished I¡¯d had my scope fixed¡ªor managed to buy a new one¡ªbut my credits were down to roughly 2,000. Not even the most optimistic dreamer could expect to score advanced ocular equipment for that kind of money. I had to go in without it.
What I did have was Laridian¡¯s Edge and my new harness to protect me from physical damage. That should be enough to get me into Zone 3, at least.
I pulled the door open and stepped inside.
Chapter 11
The fluorescent lights flickered to life, showing a long corridor with a grid pattern. There were crates in front of me, wooden ones and a few made of metal. To my right, there was a brown door in the beige wall. Not all the lights in the ceiling had come on, and further up ahead, maybe as far as I could chuck a frag grenade, there was a wall of darkness.
Suddenly, red lights in the ceiling came to life and started rotating where the darkness began, and an alarm warbled. In the pulsating red light, I saw shadows running at me.
I pulled Laridian¡¯s Edge and ran for the left one of the metal crates. Three purple dots lit up at the end of the corridor. I dove for cover. The floor flashed up in neon light as the plasma bolts flashed over my head and smashed into the back wall.
I got up, ran diagonal for a crate on my right. It was one of the wooden ones. It jerked and rattled, splinters flying as the approaching enemies unloaded on it. I stared though the gaps in the remaining wood, four of them, in total. Plasma guns all around. I could take these fools down. I rose behind the remains of the crate, four dots lit up to my left, all of them hunkering behind the same metal crate. A frag grenade would clear them out, but I wasn¡¯t wasting a grenade down here in Zone 1.
I ran for the crate, swinging the sword left to right in a tight eight, creating what could only be described as a shield in front of me. The plasma bolts came flying, my sword munched them up and with a theatrical shriek I jumped the crate with the sword above my head. They stared up at me, teeth clenched and eyes wide with fear. I swung down on them, two fast slashes were all that it took. Got some meagre XP and no new achievements. I looted their corpses. More useless level 1 plasma guns. Some energy cells and two stim packs.
A pleasant female voice declared:
Wave 1 cleared ¨C prepare for Wave 2
On the floor in bright read laser writing, the number 20 popped up. Then it shifted to 19. A countdown. I started for the door to the saferoom, pulling it open. I went in and closed it, and had a look around. A worn brown table with a chair. Raw concrete walls that looked water damaged, but nothing else. Didn¡¯t know what I expected, but rather find out now than deep into Zone 3. I had access to my inventory and above it a rectangular sign read:
End Mission? Yes/No
I chose no and returned out to the corridor. The number on the floor switched to 16.
Interesting, the countdown was paused as soon as I went into the safe room. Good to know. The number on the floor switched to 15. I darted for the next zone.
There was a white line going wall to wall up ahead and when I crossed it, the female voice stated:
Now entering Zone 2
I whipped out my plasma rifle. Better test it now before the enemies got to tough. The charge meter, a bar on the side of the rifle was shining a dull orange. As I was trying to figure out how to recharge the battery, the charge meter went from orange to bright green, and one of the energy cells in my inventory was highlighted with a frame of glowing blue, it¡¯s percentage stats dropping from 100 to 30.
Nifty.
The number on the floor shifted from 2 to 1 and then the red light came back down and the warble commenced. I put the rifle to my shoulder, staring down the sights. Movement ahead, in the dark. I fired. There was that annoying fraction of a second delay before the shot went off; probably annoying for anyone but more so for a trained sniper. I let my breathing go to quick and the green bolt hit the roof. The enemies started hollering to each other and fanned out, taking cover behind the crates. Already, these enemies proved more skilled than the other crew that had bunched together behind that one crate.
They started firing on me. I was safe behind the metal crate and tried to get a feel for them, when the right time was to pop up and start shooting back. Well, now was as good a time as ever. I whipped my rifle over the top of the crate, hunching behind it and ¨C holy crap! One of them had been advancing while the others fired, and was almost on top of me. He raised his gun but I was faster. I pulled the trigger. From this distance, maybe 15 feet, the level 3 gun did some serious damage. I hit him in the chest, he stumbled backwards, the chest protection of hard plastic melted and smoldered. I fired again and hit him straight in the face.
It was nasty.
His skinned peeled right of and he collapsed backwards, his gun rattling away over the floor. I ducked back behind cover as his friends started blasting me like crazy. I was pinned down. What could I do? Just hunker down and wait for them to waste all their ammo? Well, I could do that, but at the same time, another one of them could be sneaking up on me at this very moment. I peeked out at the side of the crate. There were two of them behind the crate to the right, and probably one to the left, but I couldn¡¯t see for sure from this angle. I jerked my head back just as a blast reflected of the corner of the crate, leaving a sharp smell of burnt metall. These guys weren¡¯t tooting level 1 equipment. I cursed between my teeth. Who had ended up with that riot shield from yesterday? Was it Jason? Wouldn¡¯t do him much good now, but I could certainly have used it here. I was sure it could¡¯ve taken at least a couple of plasma blast before it fell apart. An idea occurred to me. I put my shoulder to the crate and pushed. It slid over the floor.
Ahhh.
Needed to act fast on this one. I took some deep breathes, filled my lunges with oxygen and then I started pushing as fast as I could, like a linebacker at the fifth yard line. The crate slammed into the one in front of it, the two enemies to my right suddenly visible. I shot at them, fired as fast as I could and they went down in smoking piles.
I bolted to my feet, rifle to my shoulder, aimed at the top of the crate in front of me. I backed away slowly and silently, never taking my sights of the top of the crate. The last of the guys popped up, trying to get his plasma gun into position to shoot. I unloaded on him before he could and he went down as fast as he had popped up.
I skirted around the crate, my rifle at the ready. There were no more red dots on the map, but old habits die hard. Only the dead enemy, crumpled behind the crate. I looted him. A level 2 plasma gun. More stim packs and energy cells and ¨C
hey! ¨C almost 400 credits. Thank you very much. The other three enemies had pretty much the same stuff, bar the credits, but the loot wasn¡¯t the most valuable things I gathered. It was the XP. I was close to hit level 8, now.
Wave 2 cleared ¨C prepare for Wave 3
The countdown restarted. Further up ahead was another white line, out of sight from where I stood, but I decided against going for it, and instead grind Zone 2 for a while, these guys I could handle.
The red lights dropped, the warble began and I aimed at the end of the corridor.
The next batch of enemies, four this time, behaved much like the ones I already disposed of in this zone, but there was something about how they moved. They felt a little bit more alert, quicker and while I sat crouching behind the metallic crate, I understood why. I could be standing here the whole day, restocking my energy cells, wiping out the same set of enemies farming XP and loot until the sun set. Even if I stayed in Zone 2, the enemies became progressively harder. It had been a mistake staying in Zone 2, then. As soon as this was over, I had to advance to Zone 3, getting as many waves as possible there before I needed to bail out.
I won the second round in Zone 2 as well, not taking any damage, replenishing the resources I¡¯ve wasted, and making my stock pile of stim packs even higher. Save from a head shot, they would have a hard time killing me.
I was confident when I advanced into Zone 3, my level bar now one eight to level 8.
The red lights dropped; the warble began. From the floor turrets popped up, spewing fire and bullets. I ducked behind the usual center metallic crate, bullets whizzing over my head, eyes wide.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Holy fuck!
That was a new one.
The bullets smacked into the crate like lethal, horizontal hail, making it shudder by the sheer force. There was no way I could do anything as those two death machines were spinning. Then they stopped shooting, still whirring and spinning but I heard them come to a
clackety-clack-stop. I bolted to my feet, rifle ready to shoot, but no one was advancing on me. Instead, I saw a black grenade being lobbed from the back of a crate, having a perfect angle. This might sound like bullshit and empty boasting, but I stood right there, watching it come, while the ones hoping for my imminent death was in cover behind their own metal crates. It wasn¡¯t like they had chucked it hard, even a little leaguer would have caught that grenade, and that was what I did, and tossed it right back.
Another perfect arc.
I dropped down behind the crate, mouth open hands pressed to my ears.
Bang!
A grenade explosion was such a simple thing. No swelling and building of the boom, just this single sharp
bang that was like a punch in the chest. Three of the red dots was vanquished in the instant.
A string of new achievements rolled up my field of view, XP popping like crazy and I faintly saw the number 9 swell above the progress bar.
Goddamnit!
I couldn¡¯t have all this clutter in my face when in combat. I needed to correct that later.
I jumped up on my crate, rifle once again aimed at the top of the crate in front of me.
¡°Come on, come on, come on,¡± I mumbled, a drop of sweat trickling down my temple.
Finally, the remaining enemy came out; he probably intended to do a daring last attack that would go down in the ages, but he was severely hobbled and came out dragging his limp leg behind. The turrets wound up and again and ripped the poor guy to pieces. An interesting thing that, those turrets didn¡¯t make any difference between friend and foe, the killed anything that moved. Another good thing to know. And, they couldn¡¯t fire above chest height either. I dared a quick look at my progress bar and I had indeed hit level 9. Awesome.
Wave 4 cleared ¨C prepare for Wave 5
No! My loot! My precious loot!
Those stupid turrets wouldn¡¯t let me get to it.
Merde! As the French would say.
In a desperate attempt I started pushing the crate towards the turrets. They reacted to the movement as one could expect, and wound up again, the crate jerking and twitching from the impacts slamming into it.
One of the turrets started to sputter. The clattering from bullets became more intense as I pushed the crate closer. Soon the sound of the howling turrets couldn¡¯t be told apart from the screeching bullets. There was first one
poof, followed by a screeching sound that ended it a bang. One of the turrets came rattling across the floor, billowing black smoke.
Achievement Unlocked: Master sabotage ¨C awarded for destroying a defensive installation.
Award: 500 XP, 500 Credits
Hell, they shredded themselves to junk. Without wasting another breath, I jumped over the crate and looted the hell out of my fallen enemies. Stim-packs and energy cells. Then I spotted a golden loot box at the far corner. The countdown had recommenced. I darted for the box, didn¡¯t open it but instead pulled it into my inventory before retreating back to my battered crate.
The lights dropped, the warble commenced, and the enemies came running through the dim red light. But the turrets didn¡¯t respawn. They were once and for all broken. I wasn¡¯t leaving Zone 3 then. Hell no. My assumption was that the difficulty level took into account working turrets and that proved to be right.
I dispatched the following three waves without much difficulty. My plasma rifle, that I now considered as my
trusted plasma rifle, was running out of ammo, though. The energy cells I picked up after every battle was for level 1 and level 2 energy weapons and my level 3 rifle sucked them dry faster than I could replenish them. Was it lack if ammo that would finally force me to bail out? Looked like it. I could do a hail marry and advance to Zone 4 and hope for some proper energy cell drops, but that would at the same time ramp up the difficulty to an insane level. I understand it makes for better fiction if I had made the reckless move and advanced, but it makes for even poorer fiction getting myself killed, starting over at level 1. I¡¯ll take my risks when I hit level 10 ¨C thank you very much ¨C and that, I¡¯ glad to say isn¡¯t that far of. Maybe half the level bar.
The lights dropped; the warble commenced. I saw at once that this round would be different. The shadows advancing through the dim light looked different from before,
chunkier. I stared down the sight, my index finger at the ready on the trigger. Two of the enemies was wearing metal harnesses with bulky shoulder pauldrons, and helmets with face masks of metal leaving only slits to see through. And, even worse, they were carrying assault rifles. The other two enemies were the standard ones, wearing camo and those flimsy harnesses that looked like they were made of some hard plastic.
I fired.
The plasma bolt lit up the hallway, struck one of the hulking soldiers in the head, reflecting of his helmet.
Craaaap.
I dropped down behind the crate as the plasma bolts started smacking into the crate. This could be a tough one. I couldn¡¯t sit idle and hope for the best. I¡¯ve learnt my lesson on that part. I stuck my head up.
Ha-kra-kra-kra-kra¡!
The slow and sluggish firing of a 7.62 caliber assault rifle. I ducked back in as the bullets came flying. Time for those grenades, I would think. The thought alone was enough for putting the grenade in my hand. I pulled the pin and twisted my torso as far as I could, and tossed it over the crate.
Screams and frightened chatter.
Like music to my ears.
The shuddering bang. Two red dots vanquished. I popped up, firing crazily all over the place, starring right into the barrel of an assault rifle. I saw the muzzle flash as I tried to slide back into safety. The left side of my body exploded in trembling pain, and I collapsed rather than slid to safety.
Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I clutched my side. Blood was spilling through my fingers. It felt as if something was loose inside my body. My left leg had gone numb and I couldn¡¯t move it. My heart hammered, the pressure of rushing blood through my fingers not subsiding.
My health bar was deep in the red, just a sliver of it left.
Darkness crept into the periphery of my vision. I popped a stim pack directly from the inventory. The darkness crept closer, my field of vision turning grey, my health bar not moving.
No.
I tried to take another stim pack but there was a timer of yellow numbers rushing in my vision, counting down from 30 seconds. It was 21 seconds until I could take another stim pack. I¡¯d lost my sense of hearing. Only the sound of my slowing heart beat was in my ears, heavy slow¡ thuds. I clamped down with my front teeth on the tip of my tongue. The silvery pain lanced through my head lifting some of the grey, sounds coming back as hollow echoes.
14 seconds.
I could¡¯ve imagined it, but through the booming echoes of my heart I thought I heard agitated voices discussing.
Yeah, do that. Bicker¡ Bicker and fight¡ Bicker¡ do not go to¡ I¡¯m deadly to you¡kill you all¡
A big zero flashed for my eyes. I gasped and popped another stim pack. My health bar went up into the orange. A new countdown started, 60 seconds this time. I glanced at the door to the safe room. I couldn¡¯t bail out but maybe I could go in there during the stim pack countdown? I didn¡¯t know if that was allowed. But I could try. If I just¡ no, my left leg was busted. I wouldn¡¯t support me. It wouldn¡¯t be me darting to the safe room, it would be me lumbering like a human slouch, getting pelted by a zillion bullets. And most probably, the door would be locked.
I heard their voices clearly now, and they were indeed discussing, probably arguing who would be the one to move forward and deliver the killing shot.
I gave of a cackling mad laugh.
¡°When you come, fellas! Watch the trip wire!¡±
There was no trip wire, of course, but if they thought there was, maybe I could prolong their bickering another, oh crap, 38 seconds. As it was, no one of them decided they were in the mood to come check on me. Instead, they sent a grenade. Well, couldn¡¯t say I was surprised. That was what I would¡¯ve done as well. It hit the top of the crate and bounced over my head. It came to a spinning stop maybe six feet from me. An instant death if I ever saw one. I lunged at it. Too short a time to pick it up and hurl it back and my mangled perforated body wouldn¡¯t have the ability to do so. Instead, I swatted at it with my palm, sending it spinning over the floor, hitting the crate behind me, and ¨C thank God almighty ¨C sliding in behind another metal crate.
Bang!
The crate shuddered. Shrapnel painted the walls in black speckles. Blood was once again oozing from my side from the careless, life-saving, dive. But, a big flashing zero eased not only my mind, but also my pain. I popped another stim pack and my health was back in the low greens, my left leg once again operational and the excruciating pain in my side reduced to a dull throb.
The sounds of army boots thudding behind me.
I spun over to my back. Aiming between my feet. They still thought I was behind the crate and it proved that a plasma bolt hitting right at the temple of a helmet had the power to burn through. The head of the soldier rattled and he collapsed. I sprayed the one behind. The second of the chunky soldiers and the bolt hit him in the ribs, just under his armpit. He lurched back around the crate, to safety, clutching his smoldering side. The two remaining soldiers followed suite.
Time for some payback.
I pulled out my last frag grenade and threw it. Two of the red dots fanned out, retreating back into the zone. One ff them didn¡¯t, and when the grenade blew, that red dot flickered out. I was already on my feet, staring down the sight of the rifle, seeing the two remaining soldiers running for cover. I shot them in the back. No remorse. They went to the floor like someone had cut their strings.
My level bar stretched all the way over to the right, and reappeared to the far left.
You have reached level 10
I closed my eyes in relief and joy, but wasn¡¯t able to savor the moment. I had exactly 20 seconds to gather my loot and bail out. I rifled through all the corpses, throwing everything into my inventory without even looking at it. Rushing to the corner grabbing the golden loot box before hustling for the door. I snatched it open as the number at the floor switched from 4 to 3. I slammed it shut, panting with my hand still on the door knob.
End Mission? Yes/No
I ended it, opened the door to the safe room and stepped out through the dented metal door to the street.
Chapter 12
Later I was sitting in a bar close to the were I¡¯d been running the Gauntlet. It was early afternoon and the bar was almost empty; two guys at a corner table drinking beer and laughing, the bartender in a white shirt and black vest, clinking wine glasses as he hung them on a rack by the foot. I had ordered in one of those pricey European beers, I thought I¡¯d earned it and I could certainly afford it since my credits was almost up to 3000. I was sitting close to the window, still looking out over Rawleigh Street. But instead of the park I was looking at a short, burgundy awning outside a shoddy looking hotel. That got me thinking of the splendor of Imperial Plaza where Sarah was living, and that brought me to the pleasant realization that I now, as a level 10, could get a place in Area 9, if I wanted to. I kinda liked being one of the musketeers, but I wasn¡¯t loving my cramped little room, If an apartment was 150 a week in Area 10, it couldn¡¯t be much more than 300 in Area 9, right? I¡¯d check on that when back in Breaker City.
I found the option in my settings to not have achievements and other in game notifications pop up during battle and activated it. I had two golden loot boxes to open after my Gauntlet runs, but what mainly drew my attention was a new section in my menu. Race and class, glowing in a blue outline.
I opened it.
Choose your race and class.
These choices are permanent and can not be changed even after restarting the game upon death. Choose wisely.
Race
Human
Elf
Orc
Tarani
Lai
I took a look at the races. Human, Orc and Elf I had a fairly good grasp of, Tarani and Lai, not so much. Tarani proved to be an alien race with blue tan skin and a long face, hulkingly tall, but thin. Masters of the mental realm and utterly suited for the mage class. Lai looked like ¨C there¡¯s no other way to put it ¨C like large lizards walking on two feet. Their color could be everything from a bright orange to a subdued brown. They were immune to poison and venom, resistant to fire and made a great brawler type character. Their hands and feet were equipped with large, black claws. I hoped they were retractable, or else there would be trouble visiting the john. Orcs, exactly what you would expect, brawlers and tanks; Elves, ranged and magic; Humans, your jack of all trade¡¯s species.
I looked up and down the list. This could be a unique experience, to become a completely new race. So much to discover. But, if I was killed, everything would be reset, all my loot gone and all my skill points gone poof into cyber space. What would not reset though, was my race and class. Call me a racist or what you will, but I just couldn¡¯t see myself as a seven-foot lizard for the remainder of the game.
I clicked Human.
Nothing happened. No buzz or swirling lights. No trumpets or fireworks. Well, everything carrying on as usual maybe wasn¡¯t anything to celebrate.
Next, I looked through the classes and my, if there ever was a lot to unpack there.
MAGE
Primary Stats: Intelligence, Attack Speed, Fortitude
Bonus Perks for Choosing Mage:
- +4 Intelligence: Boosts magical abilities, spell damage, and resource pool.
- +2 Attack Speed: Increases the speed of casting spells and cooldown reduction.
- +2 Fortitude: Improves resilience to damage and mana drain.
- Unique Passive: Arcane Overflow: Gain increased spell potency when chaining multiple abilities in a short period.
- Bonus Ability: Enchanter''s Insight: Mages gain a unique ability to enchant items with greater efficiency and potency. Enchantments crafted by the Mage last longer, provide stronger effects, or require fewer resources
SUBCLASSES
Spell Weaver: Masters of intricate spell work and weaving multiple magical effects simultaneously.
Technomancer: A hybrid of magic and technology, using spells and technology in tandem.
Necromancer: Commands the dead and wields death magic to weaken foes and bolster allies.
Psion: Manipulates the battlefield with mental prowess, controlling enemies and bending reality.
Voidcaller: Specializes in high-risk, high-reward spells that can devastate enemies but may harm the caster if misused.
WARRIOR
Primary Stats: Strength, Endurance, Attack Speed, Fortitude
Bonus Perks for Choosing Warrior:
- +4 Strength: Increases melee damage and carrying capacity.
- +4 Endurance: Enhances stamina and reduces the cost of physical abilities.
- +4 Fortitude: Increases resistance to physical damage and status effects.
- Unique Passive: Unyielding Resolve: Gain temporary immunity to crowd control effects when health is critically low.
- Bonus Ability: Combat Momentum: For every successful attack landed, the Warrior gains a stacking bonus to their attack speed or critical hit chance for a short duration.
SUBCLASSES
Brawler: A bare-fisted or brutal melee specialist who relies on raw strength, agility, and improvisation in combat.
Vanguard: A frontline fighter who excels at holding the line and protecting allies.
Shadowblade: Specialise in precise, high-damage strikes from the shadows.
Warpblade: Uses dimensional rifts to outmanoeuvre foes and launch devastating attacks.
Spiritblade: A mystical warrior who merges martial skill with ethereal energy, creating spectral weapons and summoning spirit allies.
ARTIFICER
Primary Stats: Intelligence, Dexterity, Agility
Bonus Perks for Choosing Artificer:
- +4 Dexterity: Boosts crafting speed, accuracy, and trap placement precision.
- +4 Intelligence: Improves the effectiveness of crafted devices and magical constructs.
- +4 Agility: Enhances movement speed and the ability to evade attacks.
- Unique Passive: Tinker''s Touch: Crafted traps and explosives have a chance to critically succeed, increasing their effects.
- Unique Passive 2: Precision Engineering: Traps and devices are deployed 25% faster and operate with enhanced efficiency, increasing their effectiveness and reducing cooldowns or resource consumption.
SUBCLASSES
Demolitionist: Specialists in crafting and deploying explosive devices for maximum destruction.
Trapmaster: Experts in creating intricate traps that cripple enemies and control the battlefield.
Siegecrafter: A master of battlefield fortifications and siege tactics, capable of creating traps, deploying destructive devices, and manipulating environments to control the flow of combat.
Runesmith: Combines runic magic with mechanical expertise to craft traps and explosives imbued with mystical effects.
Blightbringer: A dark alchemist who creates traps and devices laced with poisons, toxins, or debilitating effects.
MYSTIC
Primary Stats: Intelligence, Charisma, Agility
Bonus Perks for Choosing Mystic:
- +5 Intelligence: Improves spell strength, foresight abilities, and resource regeneration.
- +5 Charisma: Enhances the effectiveness of buffs and debuffs, and improves interaction with NPCs.
- +5 Agility: Increases mobility, allowing Mystics to reposition effectively during combat.
- Unique Passive: Ethereal Presence: Mystics generate an aura that slightly boosts allies¡¯ stats when nearby.
- Bonus Ability: Soulbond. Mystics can form a temporary ¡°soulbond" with an ally, amplifying the effects of healing, buffs, or stat boosts specifically for that bonded target. The bond also allows a portion of the damage the ally receives to be transferred to the Mystic.
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SUBCLASSES
Starseer: Draws power from celestial bodies, channeling the energy of stars, moons, and constellations to aid allies or strike foes.
Spiritwarden: Channels the spirits of the departed to summon spectral allies, shield the living, and disrupt enemies.
Heirophant: A spiritual leader who channels divine or mystical energy to heal and empower allies.
Oracle: A seer who predicts enemy movements and strategies, using foresight to disrupt foes and empower allies.
Riftwalker: Utilises dimensional magic to manipulate space, create portals, and disrupt the flow of battle.
I really needed the eyes of the Musketeers on this, tapping into their Dungeon and Dragon brains, but from what I could see, Mages and Warriors were offensive classes, while the Artificer, relying on booby traps and contraptions, was more suited for a defensive playstyle. The Mystics seemed to be a pure support class. If judging from the bonus stats handed out for each class, Artificers and Mystics seemed to be less popular than Mages and Warriors. And, I would follow suite. To lay in ambush with clever traps and deadly runes, that seemed fun but didn¡¯t align with my personality that was more¡ hands on. Mystic? Nah, that meant, in effect to grab the second fiddle from the start. Those who chose that class would be immensely popular in raiding parties, but would need to hang back and aid the ones fighting. That too, didn¡¯t suit my personality. I was more of an up front and in your face guy. That Oracle subclass looked severely overpowered, though, but I presumed it only was working on enemy mobs, not human players. I had the opportunity to choose two main classes and two subclasses, or put all my eggs into one basket, choosing one main class. Choosing two main classes would mean a more flexible build, but that I wouldn¡¯t get the unique passive or the bonus abilities for neither of the classes. That was too big a compromise, I think. For me, who had my eye on the warrior class, that would mean that I would have to give up the unique passive Unyielding Resolve that would give me temporary immunity to crowd control effects when low on health, and the bonus ability that would let me chain attacks to gain speed and critical hits.
Both Sarah and the musketeer¡¯s hade told me that the mage class had potential, if played right, to be absurdly OP in Windersmyr, but it was next to useless in Elatrion and the Mansion. Just by looking at the sheer size of Windersmyr compared to Elatrion, it seemed that Windersmyr was a priority for the Game Maker, The Game Control or who or what it was that ran this show. Mage seemed the obvious choice, then. Why be a hack and slash guy when you could incinerate people as a mage? Yeah¡ but if I chose warrior, my base strength would jump to 11, my Endurance and Fortitude to 12. That class was like made for me.
I looked over the subclasses and dove into their unique abilities. I was eyeing the brawler class:
A bare-fisted or brutal melee specialist who relies on raw strength, agility, and improvisation in combat. Masters unarmed fighting techniques and the use of improvised or brutal melee weapons.
Abilities:
- Iron Knuckles: Enhances unarmed strikes with a magical or physical aura, dealing extra damage and breaking through armour.
- Adrenaline Rush: Gains a temporary boost to strength and speed when health is critically low.
- Grappler¡¯s Hold: Grabs and immobilises an enemy, dealing damage over time while preventing their movement or actions.
- Ground Slam: Slams the ground with immense force, creating shockwaves that knock down enemies in a radius.
But, how would that help me with ranged units, as archers and mages? It didn¡¯t. A sub class that would, was the Warpblade:
A close-combat fighter who manipulates space to strike and evade. Warpblades use dimensional rifts to outmanoeuvre foes and launch devastating attacks.
Abilities:
- Blink Strike: Instantly teleports to a target within range, delivering a swift, powerful attack (this ability is on a timer and requires mana).
- Spatial Flicker: Phases in and out of the battlefield, evading attacks while remaining semi-corporeal (this ability is on a timer and requires mana).
- Shadow Decoy: Creates an illusory copy of the Warpblade to distract enemies and absorb attacks (this ability is on a timer and requires mana).
- Warped Slash: Channels spatial energy into their weapon, unleashing an area-of-effect slash that distorts and damages everything in its path (this ability is on a timer).
The mana requirement was a bit of a nuisance. I didn¡¯t know how much mana the abilities would cost, and if it meant I would have to divert a large pool of my Character Points into Intelligence. But I liked the class. It gave me the flexibility and kind of high-powered abilities I needed to compete with the mages. The plan, as I saw it, was to use the abilities of the Warpblade to get up and close, and then use the Brawler skills to finish them, and then get the hell out of Dodge with the Warpblade skills, again. Blink Strike to get in there. Boom, that goes on a timer. Go into full ravage mode and then get out using the Spatial Flicker ability. I needed just enough mana to use those two abilities in close succession. Then they could go of the timer as the mana pool restored.
I ruled out Shadowblade as a weaker version of Warpblade and Vanguard needed me to be some kind of Paladin figure that rallied the troops to inspire courage. That would be phenomenal in an all-out battle with whole armies involved but would be next to useless in the daily dungeon crawl. Spiritblade was interesting but revolved around summoning weapons and energies. Just seemed to flimsy for my taste.
So, it was set then.
I chose Warrior as my class. Then Brawler and Warpblade as my subclasses. My new base stats popped up:
Base stats: Brad Richardsson
Warrior
Brawler
Warpblade
Strength: 11
Fortitude: 12
Intelligence: 6
Charisma: 7
Endurance: 12
Attack Speed: 4
Dexterity: 3
Agility: 3
Wow, that Attack Speed really started to look ugly now. Maybe I needed to do something about that. And that Agility too, since my Brawler class depended upon it.
Well, enough about that.
I opened my inventory to go through my loot. I had no less than seventeen level 1 and level 2 plasma guns and a pile of energy cells. The harnesses I looted from the chunky soldiers was back in functioning order despite I had shot a hole right through one of the helmets and blasted the other guy with a grenade. It wasn¡¯t multiverse loot and it was worse than what I already had. The helmets, though, was a find. I didn¡¯t have a helmet and when I equipped it to my virtual avatar ¨C like a rotating blue glowing manakin ¨C in the inventory screen it bumped my defense numbers up by 172. My total defense with my Elatrion build was at 3299, so 172 wasn¡¯t much, but at the same time it wasn¡¯t something to scoff at. It couldn¡¯t had been more than 172 defense points that kept me among the living when I was hit at the Gauntlet. And now, the two golden loot boxes. I popped the first and frowned. Out of the box, in the usual golden swirl rose a weird looking piece of metal. It was yellow and heavily curved and had roughly the same shape as a foot. I hit the information tab.
Brayon Energy Systems ¨C Carion Battle Suit Model 3 1/78
The Carion Battle Suit Model 3 made by Brayon Energy Systems is one of the most advanced and powerful battle systems to date. With powerful deflector shields it can take heavy damage for shorter periods of time and sustained damage for longer periods of time. The multi angle thrust system and the built-in ion engine makes sure that no fight is out of reach with the Carion Battle Suit.
Sounded awesome. A piece of banana shaped metal can do all that? I went through all my menus and looked through some of the ones I had neglected so far. I found one called blueprints and pulled it down.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
There were no less than 43 blueprints in the folder and one of them was blinking with a faint blue glow, the one marked Carion Battle Suit Model 3. I opened it and saw a battle suit, drawn up with white lines against blue background. The right foot of it was blinking and there was my banana shaped piece of metal, acting like some kind of combined shin and foot guard. Somewhat deflated I realized I needed twelve pieces only to build a working boot. 78 pieces in total to build the whole suit. I recognized it now. It was the same suit I had been wearing in the tutorial. I remembered the feeling of power and control when being in it, how the sniper rifle with the insanely long barrel had weighed next to nothing in my hands. Well, earning that suit would prove to be a long-term goal and I wouldn¡¯t bother with it before I saw how frequent theses battle suit drops was. I scanned through the rest of the blue prints, and now stuff became really wild. There were blue prints for everything from household droids to full size airships listed in the menu, speaking off long term goals. I closed the menu, shaking my head. Was this what those whales Alara had been talking about was building?
Whales in space ships?
Weird. Being an orc or and elf, I got that, but who would willingly turn themselves into a whale? Sounded impractical in battle.
Okay, one box left, hoping for better luck now.
I popped it and held my breath as the golden swirls rose.
Now that¡¯s more like it!
Metal gloves of accuracy ¨C Gives wearer 15 % extra accuracy when using long range weapons. Gives wearer 15 % extra melee damage.
Okay, not the best, admitted. The gloves weren¡¯t multiverse, my accuracy was already pretty high, as was my skills in ranged weaponry, but with these gloves I was almost guaranteed to hit my target. That made me wonder if the slow speed abilities I¡¯d been pondering actually would be that useful to me. I could make that decision later. I would swing by one of the traders down close at the drop of area and unload the junk, and see if he maybe had something I could trade my gloves for. The 15 % extra melee damage was nice, admittedly, but on a pair of gloves that was specialized on ranged damage? It was as if the stat effects had been assorted randomly.
The trader turned out to be an asshole. He just snorted looking at my gloves.
¡°These stupid gloves with their jumbled stats you can take home and shove your toilet brush into. Useless! I can give you 1400 credits for them at the most. It¡¯ll cost me to have a space smith to work out those stat effects.¡±
My level 12 negotiating skills didn¡¯t do anything to sway him. If those gloves had had a main stat effect that I liked, maybe I would¡¯ve put up a fight, but I knew the man was right. The gloves were no good, not terrible but, not good. So, I unloaded all my guns and one set of the chunky armor, while keeping a set just in case. He had some interesting stuff in his inventory, like a neuro chip that enhanced reaction speed, and another pair of legendary gloves, these enhancing the blast radius of explosives. He wanted 8000 credits for them.
Jerk. No deal. When I was on the transport back to Breaker City I, despite the disappointing loot, still concluded the trip a successful one. I was richer than ever before and I had hit level 10, which had been the primary objective. Shit, military lingo creeping back into my head. There was crap from Nam that I really didn¡¯t want to relieve, but if the last few days of carnage hadn¡¯t brough that shit back up to the surface, nothing would.
Chapter 13
When I was back at Breaker City, I didn¡¯t go back to the apartment, or Anchors; I just walked the city for a while, or at least Area 10. I¡¯ve hit the narrow window of light and Area 10 didn¡¯t look as bleak as it did in the dark. I walked down to the waterfront and the docks, looked over to the land on the other side of the river. There was more of Breaker City on that side, I¡¯ve seen it from Sarahs apartment. Was that part of the area system as well, and if not, who lived there? So many questions. I walked back north, through a littered park, not the same that I¡¯d seen from the apartment on the day that I arrived. There were no one camping in here, but people we¡¯re out basking in the sun. I noticed that there seemed to be a lot more people in Area 10 now compared to when I arrived. Something told me that the people in the park had been here for some time already. They completely lacked that nervous energy of the new arrivals. A pair on a bench to the right was kissing, smiling at each other looking stupidly in love.
Well, enjoy that feeling while it last, kids.
I was thinking about that afternoon again, when I parked my car on the drive way, confused of seeing Thomas¡¯s blue Trans-Am already parked there. That gut-wrenching suspicion that grew to a certainty when I slowly opened the front door. Those sounds from the living room. I walked slowly towards it, like in a trance, and there they were, Melindas pale ass going all jack rabbit style, Thomas hairy legs twitching, his hands on her lily-white ass. I think I blacked out for a moment. When I came back Melinda was screaming and crying, trying to wrap a blanket around her, Thomas backing into a corner, still naked, showing his palms saying
it¡¯s not what it looks like, dude. The dumbest fucking thing I¡¯ve ever heard. How could be anything else? I punched him right on the jaw. Melinda was wailing, begging me not to kill him. Before she said it, it hadn¡¯t even surfaced as an option, but when she voiced it, I wanted nothing more than to kill that fucking bastard. But I didn¡¯t. I left and when I returned both of them were gone. Melinda had left a note saying that she was moving out and would come to collect her things the next day and told me not to be there when she did. She was moving in with Thomas.
Good riddance and fuck you both.
Suddenly, green text started running in my display.
Sarah Parsa:
You up for doing something?
What? Some kind of in-game-messaging system?
Brad Richards:
What? Some kind of in-game-messaging system?
I managed to reel that back before it went away.
Brad Richards:
Sure. I was thinking about looking on some appartements in Area 9.
Sarah Parsa:
You hit level 10, then? Good boy! I¡¯m proud of you. I can meet you at the Milanol. We can grab something to eat before we go house hunting.
I looked at the message for a good while, a frown on my face. Where was this heading? Up until now it had only been sex, and Sarah had been more than okay sending me away as soon as the deed was done. Now she wanted to grab dinner and go house hunting? This could get complicated. Once again, I saw Melindas pale ass in the sofa, the double betrayal, the girl I loved and the person I saw as my closest friend. I wasn¡¯t going back to that.
Hell no.
Sarah Parsa:
Hello?
Brad Richards:
Yeah, dinner sounds fine.
Couldn¡¯t piss that lady off. She knew the Alpha Prime and I was already at odds with his kid brother. I didn¡¯t need any more powerful enemies.
I had only passed through Area 9 in Sarah¡¯s car, in night time. Now, sitting in a cab, seeing the fluorescent green line on the map I felt less than sure that they would actually let me cross. Maybe one needed to have spent a certain time in Breaker City before being allowed to advance, or some stupid shit like that. I hadn¡¯t been here even a week. I hadn¡¯t noticed in the dark, when we just blew past the crossing, but there was an actual checkpoint here with NPCs in grey uniforms. The cab driver slowed in and rolled down his window, showing a laminated card. The other NPC came down the side of the car, rapping the side window with his knuckles, giving me a stern disapproving look.
I rolled down the side window.
¡°Please show your stats menu, sir.¡±
I did. The NPC gave a slight nod.
¡°Welcome to Area 9, sir. I¡¯ll hope it will prove to be everything you wished for There¡¯s a quite a lot of available apartments on the East Side, if you¡¯re in the market.¡±
¡°I am. Thank you very much, good sir.¡±
And then we rolled on.
¡°You can drop me of at the Milanol,¡± I said to the driver as if I knew perfectly well where it was.
I didn¡¯t, but the fact that there was a restaurant in Area 9 that Sarah was okay dining at, told me that Area 9 must be a big upgrade from Area 10. The first thing that struck me was the amount of people in it. Area 9 was positively bustling compared to Area 10. It felt more lived in. There were no empty store fronts at street level and all the windows above had curtains or flower pots in the windowsill. Area 9 felt very much like Lower East Side of New York, and the shape of the peninsula now became even more apparent as the slightly altered shape of Manhattan. There was no Central Park in the middle of it, though. There was a grand park, I could see on the map, and something looking like a lake, but that was all the way up in the north, covering parts of both Area 1,2 and 3.
The driver pulled in outside the Milanol, a restaurant by the corner of Galato¡¯s and Maine; tables and chairs placed on the sidewalk, protected by a black awning that went around the corner. Inside I saw somber lights from oversized lightbulbs and waiters scurrying between the tables with trays. This was a world apart from Anchors that much was apparent. And of course I was underdressed, still in a button-down shirt, jeans and workman¡¯s boots.
Sarah, in a black dress and her hair done, was waiting by a table just outside the entrance door, smoking. On the table was a drink in a tall, beading glass. She got up and hugged me, the delicate scent of her perfume tingling my nostrils. We sat down and she snapped her fingers to a waiter, pointing at her glass and then at me.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
¡°You¡¯re going to like it,¡± she said, pluming while smiling. ¡°They have all the things in here that we have on the outside, but you won¡¯t find this drink anywhere but here.¡±
¡°What is it,¡± I asked, looking at the milky green liquid.
¡°I don¡¯t really know, but they say it¡¯s herbs from the east side of Witcher¡¯s Fall in Windersmyr, where the windswept birches thin out and the snow takes over, mixed with a special blend of whiskey the monks in the Western Valleys distils.¡±
¡°Wow, that¡¯s what I call a sales pitch. Just imagine if we could bring that stuff to our world and sell it.¡±
She nodded with a knowing smile, as if she had thought the same thing many times, which I guessed she had.
¡°Comfortable grind some dungeon for gold, finance a trade caravan to Witcher¡¯s Fall and the West Valleys, have them bringing wagon loads of the stuff back. That would¡¯ve been something, but as you might¡¯ve noticed there¡¯s a function economy in place here as well.¡±
¡°Yeah?¡±
¡°Yeah. That¡¯s why Area 9 can have a place like the Milanol, for example. It wasn¡¯t here when Area 9 was formed, it looked much like Area 10 then. But, as mentioned earlier, there are as many ways of playing this game as there are players. Some get enough of action and adventure after a couple of weeks and never ever even hit level 10. But do they return to the world outside just because of that? Maybe, from time to time, but you can¡¯t just turn your back to this, when you know it¡¯s here. So they go into business, starting those trade caravans, open restaurants or hotels, or whatever is in demand and live a good and fulfilling life on the inside.¡±
I was contemplating that, not knowing what to think about it. It was escapism in a way, but on the other hand, this world was as real as the one on the outside, or at least it felt like that. I could understand that Sarah preferred to be who she was here on the inside, to be a Hooters waitress on the outside. But, could one really stay in here, forever? Was that even a possibility? I guess it was. A thought struck me that gave me mental vertigo. One didn¡¯t age inside the game world. Minutes on the outside was days and weeks in here. I tried to do the math in my head but my 6 in intelligence wasn¡¯t enough. I at least got the stunning realization that one could live thousands of years on the inside before the body on the outside became too frail and weak to carry on.
¡°I can see it in your face, that you¡¯re piecing the puzzle together, what makes this thing tick. And with that, I think you understand why the highest-level player is Raker with level 87. He¡¯s the wealthiest, most powerful being in this world, but he could lose it all in a heartbeat if he¡¯s killed. He would only be sent back to level 80, sure, but all his skill points would be wasted, all his loot, all his wealth, everything would be gone. And a level 80 without advanced skills? He would be a punching bag amongst his peers. The more you earn, the more you have to lose. You reach a breaking point where the risk doesn¡¯t meet the reward. That¡¯s where you stop and just hog the benefits for your level. For Raker, it was level 87, for me it was level 42. For you?¡± She angled her palm towards me, giving a shrug. ¡°That¡¯s up to you to decide, but if you¡¯re serious going after Raker, you should know that many before you have as well, but has been lured to a halt by all the glitz and glamour of high-level life.¡±
¡°How does the Battle Clash jack into all this? I saw level 60¡¯s butchering each other.¡±
¡°Ah, the Black Bloods, they are another part of the equation entirely,¡± she said and snuffed her cigarette out against the ashtray, sipping her drink. ¡°They¡¯ve made a choice that will lead either to glory or to destruction. I think you¡¯ve already noticed that levelling slows down the higher you get, and that curve will only get more punishing the higher you go. Stats will come in slower and slower until you¡¯re completely plateaued. In that situation, if you¡¯re a restless, martial soul, you can get into a bio hack program. The program enhances your physical base stats, maybe elevating strength from 7 to a 10, giving a massive boost to all your skill stats. It comes with a price, though. You¡¯ve seen them, all roided up, but what a Black Blood gains in physical power he loses in restraint, compassion and empathy. Having one of them, governing all of us have proved¡ less than desirable.¡±
¡°Raker is a Black Blood?¡±
¡°Oh, for sure,¡± she said, lighting up another cigarette. ¡°You won¡¯t hit level 87 without massively enhancing your base stats. Just wanted to let you know.¡±
Well, that did change the perspective a bit.
¡°But, it¡¯s too early to think about that,¡± she said, draining the rest of her drink. ¡°The Battle Clash restarts the next week and you¡¯re intent on be in it?¡±
I was, and I told her.
¡°Yeah, thought so. You¡¯ll be entering the lowest bracket, then. It¡¯ll be a free for all but there will be players up to level 15 in your bracket. When your bracket is decided, the winner can choose to enter the next bracket that starts a week after the finale, facing level 16¡¯s to level 20¡¯s. There will be a stream of your Clash for the die-hard fans, but there won¡¯t be any extensive TV coverages until the level 40¡¯s joins in on the fun.¡±
There was a thing that had irked me for a while, something Sarah spoke of as a natural part of life here in the game.
¡°You¡¯re talking about the lack of exposure like it¡¯s a bad thing. I don¡¯t want the exposure. I want the levels and the Battle Clash is the fastest way of getting them. What aren¡¯t you telling me.¡±
She smiled faintly, looking down at the table, tapping the back end of her cigarette.
¡°You¡¯re right. It isn¡¯t important. I just stated the facts.¡±
Well, that was an obvious lie¡
The waiter, a girl in her twenties with brown hair in a ponytail, brought me my drink and put it down on a linen napkin. She didn¡¯t have an NPC tag above her head. Sarah ordered another drink to her food. I chose steak with fries, biting my tongue when I saw the prices.
Sheez. 400 for a steak and deep-fried potatoes? No wonder people did good business in here. Please understand, I¡¯m not a cheap bastard, but I¡¯ve been living on a budget since I got in here and I was under the false impression that I actually was somewhat flushed with cash after the Gauntlet, but I realized now that my 4900 credits wouldn¡¯t last me long in Area 9.
But the food was great and the drink was mind-bogglingly good, tasting sweet but with a slight acidic edge. We took in another one before paying; Sarah insisted on paying for me, but there I drew the line. I¡¯m old-fashioned in that way. It was bad enough I couldn¡¯t buy her dinner, but she paying for me? That was a definite no go. We jumped into a cab, a bit drunk and happy and went down to East Side. I popped open the real estate pages for East Side, scrolling through them, setting the upper price range at 2000 a week. That was more than I wanted to pay, and if Sarah hadn¡¯t been there with me in the back of the car, leaning against my shoulder to see the display, I would¡¯ve put it at 1000.
¡°Not that one,¡± she said and pawed at the air, closing down one of the windows. ¡°That area isn¡¯t as charming as the ad makes it out to be, trust me. And not that one,¡± she pawed another window shut. ¡°But
that one.¡±
Weekly rent 2200 credits, three rooms and with a view of the river from the living room. I agreed it really did look good. I marked it for a physical tour. Sarah turned her head and kissed my neck, making all my systems going into ready.
There was a rotund, balding real estate agent waiting for as at the curb, hugging a blue ring binder to his chest. The tag over his head:
Lester Moore NPC
Lester gave us a professionally trained smiled and blathered on about the apartment while we walked the stairs up to the third floor. He needed say no more. I was sold on the place as soon as we entered. The afternoon light spilled in through the large windows in the living room, and through the kitchen window I could see the glittering surface of the river alight with fire in the setting sun. It was a done deal and we sent Lester packing with a smile.
The furniture was bare bone and I would need to go shopping after cracking some more monster skulls. The bed was a single bed. Sarah sat down on it, bouncing a little to test the springs, before giving med a wicked smile.
¡°It¡¯ll do.¡±
And it did.
Chapter 14
I had spent the last three days, grinding dungeons in Windersmyr with the musketeers, and hanging out with them at the evenings. A new placed had open in Area 10,
Rockside, and it was challenging Anchors as the one and only place for R&R. It was the sign of the times, I guess. More and more players poured into Area 10 and the buildings lit up with people moving in and getting a feel for their new lives. For me and the musketeers, it was still Anchors or nothing.
My three days of grinding hadn¡¯t given me much XP or loot to write home about. I hardly saw the progress on my level bar. I was doing level 7 dungeons and was basically carrying the musketeers that were between level 4 and 5. Mort and Michael had laid off their armors for black mages robes and had actually started doing some serious damage with their basic fire and lighting spells. It was nice doing dungeons that didn¡¯t push me to the brink of disaster every time. And it was nice to have some friendly banter between kills. Recharging my batteries had been good, because Becher Ash had been crowned champion of the Battle Clash and tomorrow, I was heading out to join the new rotation of it. The formal name of my bracket was Battle Clash 10/15, but it was commonly known as the Junior Clash, or just the Jelly Clash.
But before that, I sat down on the couch in my apartment on East Side and pulled down the menu, and hit EXIT.
With a slow exhale I removed the mask from my face. It felt clammy and warm. I looked at the cr¨¨me colored rya rug and my state-of-the-art Sony TV. It showed Alara with her visor down. The cup of coffee was still on the table. I put my hand to the white porcelain and gave my head an incredulous shake when feeling it was still warm.
I got into the Bronco, feeling like if it had been in another life that I¡¯d been driving it. I drove down to the ocean at Santa Monica Pier, sat down on a bench by the promenade looking out over the beach and the ocean. Three girls skated by, blonde hair and sunglasses, one of them with a canary yellow Sony Walkman attached to her shorts. I just looked at it all, took in it, breathing the warm air, listening to the chatter of people and gulls screeching in the air, smelling the scent from the taco truck up on the road. I don¡¯t know why I went down here, maybe to anchor me or something, giving my brain a moments respite from the weirdness of the last week. While I was sitting there, my chin on my clasped hands, the thought worked itself in from the periphery of my mind to its center. I needn¡¯t go back in there. I needn¡¯t sign up for the Battle Clash. I could just stay here, looking at the ocean, maybe having one of them tacos from the truck, and carry on as usual.
That was a possibility, but once again, not for me.
There was another world behind this one, one that was just as real, populated by people from the future. I couldn¡¯t turn my back on that. I needed to know why it was there. The age-old curse of humanity, curiosity. It would be an itch I could never keep from scratching. I couldn¡¯t carry on like if nothing had changed, that I didn¡¯t knew what I know. Everything had changed and they would never be the same again. That was the truth of it. Maybe I could step back from it when I knew; when I knew who or what built the game and for what reasons. I could never get my piece of mind until I had an answer to those questions.
So, I went back up to the road, bought one of those tacos and ate it on the sidewalk before climbing back into my truck, heading home, logging back into the game.
Early morning, Breaker City. I unloaded all my excess loot in the storage crate in my apartment. If I got killed, the bastard who got me would at least not get the pleasure off looting my corpse for all my stuff. I kept all my healing potions in the inventory, and an epic sword of chills, that had a frost enchantment, slowing the enemy while dealing damager over time. It was a good weapon, but not as good as Laridian¡¯s Edge. The thing with the Battle Clash was that everyone could bring whatever weapon they wanted, but every weapon in the pile was then up for grabs for anyone else. My legendary sword would be snatched away at an instant and if that fool that grabbed it got killed, my sword would end up in the victors¡¯ hands. I¡¯d thought long and hard about this. If I emerged as the final victor, I would end up with all the loot my opponents brought in, including Laridian¡¯s Edge, but unless I was given first pick of weapon, I would need to reclaim my sword battling with inferior gear. Better not bring it at all. If someone picked up my sword of chills, it wasn¡¯t a big deal, there would be gear left of similar quality, I was sure.
I set of, walking northwest to Bingham Square, the pick-up area for the Battle Clash. When I got closer, I saw others in the glum morning, heading the same way as me, giving me cursory glances before looking away.
There were already about 30 guys waiting at the square when I got there. I had anticipated stares and gritted teeth, wild dogs ready to chew each other up, but there was a nervous tension in the air, everyone in their own bubble, looking down at the cobble stones. Most of them were young, between seventeen and twenty, but there were some guys in my age as well ¨C and some who¡¯s chins even showed some grey stubble.
Them I feared the most.
They looked calm and confident. When I glanced at them, one of them caught my gaze. He gave a confident little smile. That guy meant trouble. Would¡¯ve loved to see his name and level, but we had all switched of our public displays. All in all, I felt I had a shot at this.
Then, disaster struck.
A pair of other contestants came walking into the square and my gut filled up with ice. One of them was Vinger Tooth. He was holding a younger guy by the shoulder talking intensely, close to his face, giving the other a shake now and then. The younger guy had the same blonde, shoulder length hair as Vinger.
Oh, crap. Please, don¡¯t let him see me.
Vinger wasn¡¯t in my bracket. He couldn¡¯t enter the Clash at this stage. Looked like he was coaching the other guy, that continually nodded, his thins lips pressed together. That guy didn¡¯t look scared, he looked ultra focused. Vinger chopped with his hand in the air, and the younger guy nodded with added intensity, looking at Vinger from the corner of his eye. Vinger seemed to lose his train of thought and drifted his gaze down the line of contestant, coming closer and closer to me. Before he got to me, he got back to lecturing mode and gave the guys shoulder another shake.
Then he looked up again, and he looked straight at me.
At first his face went slack, then recognition hit him and his face lit up with a nasty little smile. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
He walked over the square, his stride slow and confident.
¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t my lucky day. Told you
later, didn¡¯t I you pile of intestine?¡±
I didn¡¯t answer. There was literally nothing I could say that would improve the situation.
¡°Would¡¯ve loved to snuff you out by myself but I¡¯ll tell my brother to give you some extra attention.¡±
I looked over Vinger¡¯s shoulder. I could see the similarities now. The same nasty little smile on that fucker over there. How many of these Toth brothers were there? Had he brought the whole clan?
¡°He¡¯s been trained since before he could walk for this moment. He¡¯ll breeze through it but I¡¯ll tell him to take his time with you. He¡¯ll crack you so bad you¡¯ll never walk again.¡±
¡°Talking dirty to me now, are you?¡±
Why can¡¯t I keep my goddamn mouth shut?
Vinger¡¯s smile collapsed. He gave me a dead stare.
¡°You don¡¯t seem to understand who you¡¯re talking to.¡± He said through clenched teeth. ¡°But I¡¯ll
teach
you. I will make you
understand and after you¡¯ve been ridiculed and killed in here, I¡¯ll make sure you will never set your foot in Breaker City again. There will be nothing there for you anymore, except pain and degradation. Return to your mundane job as manager at the super market or your office cubicle or whatever fuck you do on the outside. This isn¡¯t for you. Not anymore.¡±
Well, that went from bad to worse quick enough.
He gave me one last smirk brushing my shoulder from imaginary dust, before heading back to his kid brother, shooting a venomous glare over his shoulder. He gave his brother one last hug before stepping of the square. At the same time, Sergeant Watts NPC, stepped into it.
¡°Gentlemen!¡± he barked, his hands on his back. ¡°This is your first Battle Clash, so let me explain to you the basics of this friendly competition. You¡¯ll be dropped in the north of Windersmyr, west of the city of Brina. You will not enter populated areas. You will not use NPCs for any cunning devices of war or in any other matter. You will fight alone. Teams and alliances are not allowed in this Clash. At certain intervals the battle area will shrink. Fail to get into the new battle zone and you are eliminated. Are we clear!¡±
¡°Sir, yes, sir!¡± I shouted, together with the two grey bearded guys.
Army men, then? I had anticipated that. Something in the way they carried themselves, their reserved calmness. I didn¡¯t know who would prove to be the biggest threat, the two veterans or the youngest spawn of clan Toth, glaring at me, showing teeth at the other side of the square. Wouldn¡¯t matter in the end. I needed to kill them all to win this tournament.
The carrier came floating down towards the square, lighting up the cobble stones with its blue light, casting electric shadow across the open area.
¡°Get moving!¡± Sergeant Watts barked as the aircraft touched ground and lowered its loading ramp.
I let young Toth embark before me. I didn¡¯t want to have him at my back if I could avoid it. The men trudged sideways between the row of seats. I counted somewhere around 40 people. 40 opponents that stood between me and victory. When everyone was seated and strapped in, Sergeant Watts walked in on the metal floor, hands on back, the corners of his mouth in sharp declining curves.
¡°Gentlemen! The Battle Clash is different from what you are used to. Your opponents are no longer mindless mobs. This time you will hunt the most cunning and deceptive prey known to man ¨C
man! That will reflect in the XP you¡¯ll gain for each kill. And, I¡¯m sure you all know what you¡¯re competing for! The Master Huntsman Award.
The award popped up in my visuals, spinning slowly. It looked like a sports trophy but this trophy wasn¡¯t just for show. When clicking the information tab I read:
The Master Huntsman Award is given to the victor of the Battle Clash 10/15. It grants passive income by the amount of 2000 credits a week and speeds up skill levelling by 10 %.
Christ, that really was something worth fighting for. It would solve my immediate money problems, but the main thing was the improved levelling speed.
¡°Okay, gentlemen! Weapons!¡±
A long sliding scale popped up in my vision, each square containing one weapon. The number 17 was above it in yellow.
¡°A¡¯rigth! You have 35 seconds to make your pick of weapon! Fail to do so and you will be assigned a random weapon from the pile!¡±
I had less than 10 minutes to make a priority list. I wanted a one-handed sword. If that wasn¡¯t up for grabs, I would go for a good strong bow. I scanned the list of weapons looking for that golden swirl of legendary and was appalled to see that two of the contestants actually had brought legendary enchanted weapons. A two-handed sword of chills and a chunky looking bow of slow speed.
Morons.
The two legendary weapons were snatched away immediately. There were five one-handed swords in the list, all with basic enchantments, mine being one of them, and twelve bows. There were five two-handed swords, and the rest of the equipment was magical stuff, like staffs and robes, except one weird dude who had brought a shield.
Three of the one-handed swords went in the next five picks, then some mage stuff before two of the bows were picked. Four more picks until I was up. My sword was picked next and what remained was an Epic Silver Sword of Anguish. I had no idea what that enchantment did, and a Rare Sword of Burning. Christ I wasn¡¯t too keen on either. There were two bows that I started zooning in on, one Epic Bow of Slow Speed and an Epic Bow of Burning.
I needed an epic weapon. It would have a lot more punching power than the rare ones.
A longsword went next and then, one after the other, the two remaining one-handed swords went.
It all happened fast now, the Bow of Slow Speed vanished from the list and my number 17 switched to red and a countdown for 35 seconds started.
I grabbed the Epic Bow of Burning.
The list of items drained fast. The shield was the last item to go.
Poor bastard.
¡°Aaaa¡¯
right, gentlemen! That was that! Get ready for take-off!¡±
We took off, hurtled to the sky. I pressed the back of my head against the seat and clenched my teeth. There was like a collective groan when the G-forces peaked, just before we plopped out of the stratosphere, becoming weightless. Then we descended again. The lush green hills of Windersmyr didn¡¯t look as I was used to. They were darker, pines and spruce trees carpeted the lands, and where the trees didn¡¯t cover the ground, it was rocky and dark, flecked with patches of snow.
¡°You will disembark in the same order as you choose your weapon. We will stop for no one, so time your step-off carefully!¡±
The aircraft swooped in over ground, slowing to what felt like a crawl, but when the tail ramp lowered the ground rushed past and the air was whipping my hair forward.
We got up from the seats, scrambled to find our place in the line. Tristan Toth was five places ahead of me in the line, I tried to think of the order the weapons had gone, but couldn¡¯t remember. I was pretty sure he got one of the one-handed swords, or maybe a bow. One of the army vets was one place behind Toth, and with some luck he would clip Toth before he turned his attention to me. I had the other army vet two places in front of me. I had no clue who was behind me but he was tall and gangly, having dark hair and large intelligent eyes. Didn¡¯t look like a killer but one was a fool to trust first impressions.
The aircraft slowed even more, the engine dropping to a soft mumble. The tail ramp was in the snow, cascading clumps of ice and snow as we went.
¡°Go!¡± Watts barked and slapped the first one in the line on the shoulder.
He went, without hesitating, jumping of the ramp. He hit the ground and tumbled, but even before he was out of sight he was on his feet, running for cover.
¡°Go!¡± the next guy ran of the ramp.
Tristan Toth jumped off in a magnificent leap, hit the snow with both feet planted together, did a parachute landing roll and come up almost without having his thick blonde hair ruffled. I was reluctantly impressed.
It didn¡¯t take long before I was the first one in the line. No one had goofed up yet. Everyone had proven to be of the ¡°right stuff¡±, unfortunately, and I was determined to not be the first one to break my neck when jumping of the ramp.
¡°Go!¡± I got the slap on the shoulder and took off.
Chapter 15
I pushed of from the ramp. The ground came rushing against me. I planted my feet and tucked my head between my elbows. My body became a whip, and then I was skidding along the hard crust of the snow. I pushed my feet out and it dug them into the snow, stopping my advance.
I looked up at the vanishing aircraft.
The tall guy with the dark hair was already standing crouched, waiting for the slap. He was too far away for me to say for sure, but it looked like he stared right at me.
I got to my feet and ran towards a craggy rise of boulders on my left. A ridge climbed from them boulders and I needed to get to higher ground.
The guy who had disembarked before me had the bow of slow and the lanky guy had chosen a magical robe of destruction. I had preferred if at least one of them had been melee, but this was how the dice had rolled.
I tried to remember what number 15 had chosen and I was pretty sure he was the one that picked my epic sword. That could mean that number 16 would go for him, rather than me. One thing I was certain of, though, was that the lanky mage was coming for me.
I moved fast up the side of the hill, trying to advance behind the protruding black rocks where it was possible. My feet skidded in the mushy snow and the cold wetness seeped through my boots. There was a flash of blue in my vision:
Contestant number 3: Eliminated
Someone was making use if their legendary weapons, it seemed.
I was breathing hard and stopped to catch my breath. I had climbed as high as I could, but I couldn¡¯t rule out the possibility that the other guy had climbed even higher, and could advance on me from above.
I¡ Wait¡
There was a dark figure down at the foot of the incline, clearly visible against the snow, only now starting to climb up the mountain.
Looked like I had overestimated my opponent.
I pulled out the bow and an arrow. It was regular steel arrows without any enchantments. The bow granted 30 percent extra fire damage, and it would continue to cause damage until he got the fire out. I wouldn¡¯t let him, though. In a crouch I advanced down the mountain, careful only to move when number 18¡¯s line of vision was obscured. When I was in position, sitting crouched waiting at what I guessed was number 18¡¯s intended way up the mountain, I nocked one of the arrows, feeling the tension of the string. It was a good bow. Nothing fancy but a good bow.
I heard number 18 pant when advancing. Scree rattled down the mountain, he made no effort at all to conceal his position.
I drew the string. It creaked.
The panting and the rattling from the other side of the boulder stopped. I rose and looked right into his pale, frightened face.
I let the arrow go.
It hit him like a punch in the chest. He crumpled and then his black robe caught fire. Screaming and flailing he stumbled between the boulders before sagging down into something looking like a praying position. My vision flashed up in blue:
Contestant number 18: Eliminated.
Over the corpse of number 18 the figure
25000 XP rose. My level bar made a leap to the right.
Holy crap, that
was
a lot of XP.
I ran the numbers in my head and found that it wasn¡¯t out of the question that I could hit level 20 if I won the whole shebang, but that was if I was an active hunter, not if I just sat back and let the other guys kill each other.
I looked at the crumpled pile that had been contestant number 18 and felt a pang of guilt. It was something different killing a human player than a mob, but according to Sarah, contestant number 18 would spring to life back home in his couch, screaming ripping his mask from his face, in shock, perhaps, but otherwise okay.
We all knew what we signed up for.
I looted his corpse and found a healthy stack of healing potions, fire wood, three slabs of meat and a whole apothecary of power up juices, poisons and flasks of mana regeneration. Most of it stuff I couldn¡¯t use, but that would sell for good money if I ever got out of this alive. I looted his robe of destruction as well, even if it was a smoldering pile of burnt fabric. When it went into my inventory it appeared as new, and when I pulled it out, it was.
Nifty.
There were two announcements in quick succession:
Contestant number 5: Eliminated.
Contestant number 15: Eliminated.
I had been right, then. Number 16 had gone after the sword wielding number 15. Who he went after next was anyone¡¯s guess. I continued up the mountain and found a cave that was protected from the wind. I needed to rest and to eat. I needed to start a fire and roast some of that meat I looted from 18. Then I realized I had no matches or fire steel.
Then I got into the game and realized I had both a bow of burning and a robe of destruction. Fire was one of the three elements that counted as destruction damage, together with frost and lightning. I pulled out a pile of firewood from the inventory and piled it up against the cave wall. To shot an arrow at it seemed¡reckless and I would probably shatter my arrow. I only had 19 more of them. According to the information tab, the robe of destruction increased destruction magic with 30 percent, and granted access to the three basic destruction spells. Okay, here goes nothing. I pulled the robe over my chainmail. It got stuck on my iron gauntlets but I managed to tug the sleeves down after a while. There was a low thumping sound and a swirl of blue in front of me.
New Spell Learnt:
Fire Casting
New Spell Learnt:
Frost Fall
New Spell Learnt: Thunderstrike
And then:
Achievement unlocked: Spellcaster, for learning a magic spell.
Award:
250 XP
That didn¡¯t even make a dent in my level progression. I closed my fist and thought of fire. Didn¡¯t know what else to do, but then it came to me as an old memory.
¡°Atra,¡± I whispered and snapped my fingers.
Something that looked like a heavy spark, almost a marble of fire, popped from my fingers and hit the pile of wood. It caught fire instantly.
My progress bar for destruction magic rapped over to level 2 and filled half the next bar as well. Ahh, how I missed the days of easy leveling.
I started to try and wiggle out of the robe, but then thought, what for? It didn¡¯t hinder me in any way. I could pull my bow and my arrows directly from the inventory, and even if it was a bit tight around the chest and under the arms, I still had full movement. I guess I looked kind a dorky with it over my chainmail but dorky hadn¡¯t killed anyone, and this robe with the base magic it granted me could come in handy.
I put a piece of meat on one of my arrows and held it over the fire, sitting so that I had the cave entrance in view. The smoke that crept across the cave roof and spilled out as grey fog, would be visible. That wasn¡¯t necessary a bad thing. I needed to be active in the Clash and if I could get my opponents to come to me, instead of the other way around, that saved both time and energy.
When the steak was ready, I dug into it with my teeth. I hadn¡¯t realized how hungry I was and I devoured the meat as a starved dog. I moved closer to the cave entrance and scanned the mountainside and the rocky hard ground that sloped away into a pine forest down below. It was cold, just above freezing and in time I would see more fires out there. For now, people seemed to hold out, enduring the cold and the wetness. I walked back into the cave and shoved my fire with the side of my foot closer to the cave entrance. I felt the cold water in my soaked through boots get tepid and before I had moved the fire all the way to the cave mouth, they were decidedly hot and gave away a strange smell. Well, the fire was where I needed it to be now, and I sat down at the entrance by the warmth and swept my gaze back and forth. While I did I saw a menu I hadn¡¯t seen before ¨C Scoreboard. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
I opened it.
Artes Belgrave, level 15: 50 000
Brad Richards, level 10: 25 000
Jack Marsh, level 14: 25 000
Artes Belgrave. That had to be either number 1 or number 2 ¨C one of the guys that snagged the legendary weapons, most probably number 2 since number 3 was the first one to be eliminated. Jack Mars, then, had to be number 15, the guy with the bow of slow that went for number 15 instead of me.
In another drop-down menu I found the eliminated contestants.
Contestant number 3: Paul Noles, level 13
Contestant number 18: Tom Carlsson, level 14
Contestant number 5: Aaron Laws, level 15
Contestant number 15: Tremayne Nichols, level 15
Remaining contestants: 37
So, Tom Carlsson was the name of the guy, then. Wasn¡¯t much of a name for a mage. I stared at the name. Christ. I needed to stop thinking about him as if I had actually killed him. I still had the guy¡¯s panicked screams ringing in my ears.
Enough.
Put that to rest and focus on the mission, soldier. There was a new flash of blue.
Contestant number 21: Eliminated.
I went to the scoreboard and a new name had appeared.
Artes Belgrave, level 15: 50 000
Brad Richards, level 10: 25 000
Jack Marsh, level 14: 25 000
Tristan Toth, level 15: 25 000
If there was a name I should stare a bit extra on, it wasn¡¯t the ones of defeated enemies, but the last one on this list. Something told me that young Toth wouldn¡¯t be last for long, and that we would clash before this event was over. I would have no qualms at all putting down Vinger¡¯s baby brother. It would do me no good at all, but if the option was to fail the Clash just not to anger Vinger, then, that wasn¡¯t an option at all. Winning the Clash would make me someone to notice and the way I saw it, that was protection. If I was just another no-name-player that could be dragged into an alley and killed, that would be worse, so my reasons to win the tournament had just grown even bigger.
While sitting by the fire I pulled up my progress page. I hadn¡¯t yet assigned my Skill Points but it was time to do it now. I was level 10 which meant I had 9 skill points to spend. I had done the match and if I maxed out all the tiers of the skills I choose, I could max out 16 in total ¨C at level 100. I had already set out on my path to be a Brawler-Warpblade Class, but since the only weapon I had now a bow I needed to adapt. I opened the archery skill tree.
Archery
Eagle Eye
Level 15: 15% increased accuracy with bows.
Level 30: +10% critical chance.
Level 45: +15% critical chance and 10% faster draw speed.
Pinpoint Precision
Level 45: Time slows by 15% when aiming.
Level 75: 30% time slow.
Level 100: 45% time slow.
Hunter¡¯s Focus
Level 15: Bonus accuracy when stationary (+10%).
Level 30: Bonus increased to 20%.
Level 45: Critical hits deal 25% bonus damage.
Arrow Storm
Level 50: Rapid firing increases damage by 5% per shot.
Level 75: Bonus increased to 10% per shot.
Level 100: Arrows shot in rapid succession pierce through targets.
And the skill tree for unarmed combat:
Pure Savagery
Level 15: Unarmed attacks deal 10% bonus damage.
Level 30: Unarmed attacks deal 20% bonus damage.
Level 45: Unarmed attacks deal 50% bonus damage
In Your Face!
Level 15: Increase attack speed by 10%.
Level 30: Increase attack speed by 20%.
Level 45: Increase attack speed by 50%.
Going Feral
Level 50: Three punch combos deal 15 % bonus damage.
Level 75: Three punch combos have a 50 % chance to place stagger on the enemy.
Level 100: Three punch combos have a 70 % chance to stun the enemy.
Last Man Standing
Level 50: Grants 10 % physical defence when in unarmed combat.
Level 75: Grants 20 % physical defence when in unarmed combat.
Level 100: Grants 50 % physical defence when in unarmed combat.
I wasn¡¯t completely sure how the skill level progress was calculated but there seemed to be a splash effect from other similar abilities. My skills as a sniper, which I brought into the game, had as I already knew bumped up my ability progress in ranged ballistic weapons to 47 and for ranged plasma to 32. I had been using my bow quite frequently, taking down low-level mobs with the Musketeers but that practice didn¡¯t amount to my proficiency with the bow, that according to my stats was 28. The same with the unarmed combat that seem to have a bleed over effect from one-handed weapons. My one-handed skill was at 24 and my unarmed combat at 17, even though I hadn¡¯t killed a single thing with my bare hands. What I knew, though, from Rick and the others was that gauntlets counted as unarmed combat and my gauntlets was reinforced with iron over the knuckles. If I ever got the opportunity, I would fit them with some vicious spikes or something.
An Archery skill of 28 opened up the entry level ability of
Eagle Eye and
Hunters Gaze, that would give me 15% increased accuracy and another 10 % accuracy if I was stationary. That added up to 25 more accuracy if I was stationary which, to me sounded almost OP. And they would cost me only 2 skill points in total. That was a multiverse skill as well, which would give me the corresponding abilities in Elatrion.
Done deal.
I picked them and the lit up from blue to yellow in the skill tree. I needed two more skill points to lock up two other skills and with my new improved accuracy I thought I would get there pretty fast. I then got the entry level skills in the un-armed combat tree;
Pure Savagery and
In Your Face! bumping up my punching power and attack speed with a fair margin.
I¡¯d spent 4 of my skill points and had 5 left.
I was pondering for a moment to just save them, but decided against it. I was up against level 15¡¯s, players that had grinded for weeks longer than me and had the stats to prove it. I needed to do whatever I could to even the playing field.
To invest some skill points into the light armour tree would give an instant benefit, but what if I killed an opponent with an enchanted chest piece of heavy armour? Well, that was the thing, wasn¡¯t it? I had told myself to plot my course and stick to it. Maybe I felt now that I was flushed with skill points but that wasn¡¯t too last; it would be a hell of a slog bringing in the next 10 points. These choices mattered and if I started sprinkling points all over the place, based on my present situation it would all turn to shit.
So, I picked
Weightless Movement, giving me a 10 % reduction in stamina cost when moving and fighting in light armor, together with the skill
Elusive
giving me a 5 % extra chance to dodge. The light armor had three entry level skills and I could also afford
Flexible defense that gave me 5% resistance to stagger. I would have preferred something that gave me extra resistance to magic, but that was further up the tree.
I had 2 skill points left to spend, and the obvious next stop was one-handed weapons. I didn¡¯t have a one-handed weapon at the moment, and there was no guarantee I would get one, but I had already bought all the skills I could get at my level. I was looking the skills over.
One-Handed Weapons
Blade Mastery
Level 15: +10% melee damage with one-handed weapons.
Level 30: +20% damage, critical hits deal 50% more.
Level 45: +30% damage, enemies struck are briefly staggered.
Riposte
Level 50: Successful parries deal 25% counterattack damage.
Level 75: Counterattacks deal 50% damage and disarm opponents.
Level 100: Counterattacks deal 75% damage and slow opponents.
Whirlwind Strikes
Level 15: Gain 5% bonus movement speed after a strike.
Level 30: Speed boost increased to 10%.
Level 45: Speed boost also increases attack speed by 5%.
Flurry
Level 50: Landing three successive hits increases damage by 10%.
Level 75: Bonus increased to 15%.
Level 100: Bonus applies to all strikes for 5 seconds after a combo.
Duality:
Level 15: Dual attacks grant 5% bonus attack speed and 5 % extra damage after a strike.
Level 30: Dual attacks grant 15% bonus attack speed and 55 % extra damage after a strike.
Level 45: Dual attacks grant 50% extra damage after a strike.
Some good stuff in there, and three more entry level skills that I could afford. But, at the same time I was only two ability points away from hitting level 30 in archery and locking up the second tier of skills there. I decided to hold on to my remaining 2 skill points for now.
Time to get busy. I piled on more firewood and threw a handful of gritty snow on top of the fire, making the smoke thick and a greyish yellow. Then, I left the cave and climbed further up the mountainside until I found a boulder to take cover behind while I still had a view of the rocky foot path leading up to the cave. The hook was baited, now I just needed to wait.
A terrible idea.
I don¡¯t know for how long I hunched behind that boulder, but the wind howled around it, tugging at my black mages robe and turning my hands into red lumps of ice. My teeth were chattering and I wasn¡¯t sure I would be able to pull the bow string and get an arrow away when I needed to. Hard thing to do when you couldn¡¯t feel your own fingers. The sun was setting and the day had turned a dark grey. Soon darkness would fall. What was I to do? I couldn¡¯t return to the cave after signalling my position the whole day, and I couldn¡¯t stay here; I would freeze to death before this was over. While I¡¯d been standing there, I had gotten notifications off two more contestants being eliminated, one by Tristan Toth who now was at the top of the score board together with Artes Belgrave.
I had already been down to the cave twice to put on more firewood, and soon I had to do it again.
Crap.
And that was when I saw a shadow silently advancing up toward the cave entrance in a crouch, the shape of a one-handed sword held low.
About time.
My heart started pounding. My hands were suddenly hot with rushing blood. I pulled out my bow and a steel arrow. I needed to kill him with the first shot. If not, he would dive into cover behind a boulder and pop health potions until back at full health.
He was still too far away for me to try a shot. It would be a difficult shot. Very difficult. He was approaching in a crouch; I was sitting high above him which made him an even smaller target. I wouldn¡¯t be able to hit him in the chest and if I scored a head shot from this distance, that would be pure luck. Only fools and idiots put their trust in luck.
He hesitated at the cave entrance. He couldn¡¯t see much in there with the fire burning at the entrance. He smelled a trap, and he was right, but he didn¡¯t yet realize how this particular trap was set up. Then he ventured in. As fast as I could, I descended the mountain side, carefully not to set any stones tumbling down the foot path. I tried to put myself in his place. No one in the cave. He had not been attacked when advancing to it. Would he expect to be attacked when leaving it, or would he presume I was out hunting? In that case, would he decide to stay in the cave, waiting for my return?
Maybe.
I descended in a diagonal so when I was level with the cave entrance, I had some distance between it and me. I hadn¡¯t seen the guy leave yet, but he could¡¯ve snuck out the other side. Maybe he was descending on
me, in this very instance?
I scanned the dark rocks.
Dusk was in full bloom, only a sliver of pink behind the distant mountains in the west. Soon it would be completely dark.
Then I saw him.
Chapter 16
He was sitting at my goddamn fire, warming his hands, sword sheathed. He thought I had moved on. The almost dead fire and the vacant cave. Was that idiot preparing to tuck in for the night? He had another thing coming then. I nocked an arrow, pulling the string, then I got out from behind the boulder and started walking, keeping him in my sights.
I had closed the distance to half when he finally picked up on my movements. He shot up, grabbed the hilt of his sword, eyes wide. I was aiming for his chest, but the arrow caught him in the throat. He stumbled backwards, one hand clasped at his throat, blood spilling. He gurgled and dropped down right at the fire, sending up a shower of bright yellow sparks.
¡°Gack!¡± he said, staring, moving lips that was red with blood.
He pulled feebly at the black steel arrow in his throat. Then his jaw fell open and his head tilted to the side.
Contestant number 14: Eliminated
The number 25 000 rose above him and my level bar once again shot to the right. My archery skills didn¡¯t improve, though. Couldn¡¯t expect it either; it had been an easy shot.
I pulled number 14 out of the fire and swatted the seat of his pants to kill the smouldering embers. He carried some really useful loot. The sword, of course was the main price and it was none other than the epic frost sword I¡¯d brought into the tournament.
More health and stamina potions, a wool blanket, more fire wood and three extra slabs of meat. A couple of apples, leek, onions and garlic. What the hell, had he planned making a stew? I pulled it all into my inventory. I hoped that at least some of these guys would¡¯ve entered the tournament with their inventories loaded, but so far, everyone had had the same thought as me, and unload everything before joining.
When I had stomped out the fire and started it again, further into the cave where the light of it wouldn¡¯t be seen from the outside, I realized the best thing I looted from number 14 might¡¯ve been the wool blanket. I swept it around me and leaned back against the cave wall, enjoying the crackling heat from the fire. My head started to feel heavy, my thoughts buzzing and the warmth was like a soft caress. Sleeping wasn¡¯t a great idea. I knew I had to do it, but number 16 was still out there, hunting. He needed to sleep as well, yes? I blinked, looking into the fire.
I was rattled awake by an announcement:
Contestant number 23: Eliminated.
I was panting, clawing at my blanket, trying to get my bearings straight. Then it all came back to me. The Battle Clash. The cave. The fire was out and it was pitch black. Through the cave entrance I saw a starlit sky. From the pain in my neck and ass, I realized I must¡¯ve slept for quite a while.
I pulled up the scoreboard.
Tristan was alone at the top of it now, with 75 000 points. Christ, didn¡¯t that guy need his sleep as the rest of us? Maybe jacked up on fantasy dope or something.
I didn¡¯t go back to sleep. I couldn¡¯t even if I had wanted to. Instead, I perched myself at the cave entrance, scanning the ground below for movement.
Nothing.
Number 16 had probably moved on by now, number 14, 15 and 18 was dead. The two guys with the legendary equipment had gone out strong but had been silent since the start of the tournament. There was another announcement.
Contestant number 42: Eliminated.
About time there was some action at the other end of the drop zone. Number 42. Had to be the poor bastard who got the shield, that. I restarted my fire, roasted some more meat, together with some onions and ate half of it, tucking the rest back into the inventory for later. I needed to move out and my instincts were to continue north, away from number 16 and his epic bow of slow. Number 18 was gone, probably killed by number 19, who could be anywhere right now, but who I had to assume was heading my way. He couldn¡¯t be sure that number 17 was the lowly number 10, Brad Richards that seemed to have scored a lucky shot, killing the level 15 Tom Carlsson, but it wasn¡¯t a far conclusion to draw. And why wouldn¡¯t he come for a player five levels lower than himself? I was easy pickings, or at least that was what he thought. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
While I ate my breakfast, I used up my remaining 2 skill points, buying the one-handed entry skills of
Blade Mastery giving me 10% extra damage from one-handed weapons and
Duality
granting 5% bonus attack speed and 5 % extra damage when attacking with two blades. I kind a liked that one, just needed to find myself another blade, or rather pry it form the cold dead hands of my enemies. But the bow would be my first choice. The range and my advanced skill with it negated some of the level difference between me and my opponents. Caught in a dance of death, blade to blade with a level 15, I would most probably lose.
I was heading higher up in the mountains, walking the ridge scanning the valley floor. How would I ever be able to find anyone here? It was like the proverbial needle in the haystack. And, as I was thinking that, my vision flared up in red and a countdown started.
59 min 57 sec.
A female voice, calm and cold stated:
Please enter the new battle area. Fail to do so before the time is up, and you will be eliminated.
It wasn¡¯t just the announcement that had lit up my field of vision in red. Everything around me was tainted in red. The female voice again:
You are currently, outside the battle area. You are, in the danger zone.
Thank you, lady, I thought with clenched teeth.
As if I hadn¡¯t noticed already.
The red area stretched down the side of the mountains and way out into the plains beneath.
Oh, crap. This would be tight.
I started down the mountain side, all caution thrown out the window. Rocks and pebbles rushed down the mountain side, me slipping and sliding, grabbing rocks and boulders where they were, not slowing down.
52 min 22 sec.
I shot glances left and right as I went. This was the storm that would flush out all the rats, me being one of them.
My heart hammered, sweat stung my eyes. My legs were turning to trembling spaghetti. I drank down a stamina potion. My breath deepened, energy rushing back to my legs.
41 min 39 sec.
I continued to bumble down the mountain, looking left and right. And I saw another player rushing down the mountain, not that far away from me, coming in at a diagonal. It had to be number 16. I kept on running, hadn¡¯t time to stop and take this fight. Neither did he.
The next time I looked right, he wasn¡¯t there anymore.
The fuck?
An arrow clattered against a stone to my left.
What the fuuuck?
Pain stabbed at the back of my right thigh. I took a nosedive, grinding my face through gravel. I pawed at the back of my leg.
An arrow.
That fuckin idiot shot me!
I tried turning on my back, but my movements were slow, as if I was moving under water. The slow effect.
Oh crap, he got me and he got me good.
I could hear him coming down the mountains, stones bouncing before him. I finally got on my back, tried to get my own bow out, but my hands were slow and clumsy.
I didn¡¯t need my hands!
I could just pull it out directly from the inventory. That slow effect seemed to apply to my mind as well. Pain throbbed in my leg, and soon it would be worse. I would never reach the battle area with an arrow through my leg. I reached behind my thigh, steeled myself and snapped it off. Thank God it was a wooden one. I pulled it out of my leg from the front and drank down a health potion. The pain in my leg eased and I suddenly had enough strength in it to push myself up against the large boulder. I could hear number 16 now, panting. A rock came tumbling through the air. Clattering to the ground in front of me. Then number 16 hit the ground at the same place. I roared and bolted from my hiding place, hitting him as hard as I could in the back of the head with my iron reinforced fist. I would¡¯ve probably had cracked the skull on a level 10, but this one, he just stumbled forward, almost dropping his bow. I gave him a powerful low kick from the behind across his knee and he went down with a groan.
Quick decision. Pound away and kill him? Or run for the battle zone, hoping he wouldn¡¯t make it? I decided on running. I wouldn¡¯t be able to beat him to death at the same rate he could drink down his health potions. All I would achieve was to get us both eliminated. I jumped from rock to rock, hearing him scramble to his feet behind me. I drank another stamina potion and soon I was on the flat lands. Another stamina potion down and I broke out into a full sprint, running in a zig zag pattern.
My base speed was 5. If number 16 was faster or had some potions of increase speed he would hunt me down in seconds, but something told me this guy liked to rely on his bow, and wasn¡¯t keen on a fistfight even with someone lower in level than him.
True enough. As I zigged an arrow thumped down in the grass to my right. I kept zigging, fooling him as the next arrow also hit the ground to my right. I zagged, the next arrow hit the ground to my left. And then I was in the battle area. I spun around, my bow already up, string pulled.
Number 16 was still some ways of. Now he was the one that was zigging and zagging.
I missed with two of my arrows and then he was just strides away.
I slid the bow back into my inventory and pulled my sword.
I saw desperation in his face. I answered it with a grim smile.
He tried to sidestep me. I slashed at him, getting his arm. He lunged at me, making it impossible for me to swing again.
This was the situation I had hoped to avoid, getting into a clinch with a higher levelled player. But at the same time, now me Brawler class would come into play. This was what I was built for.
He made a grab for my sword, and when he did, I shoved him with all the power I had left. He stumbled back outside the battle area.
00 min 00 sec
He froze in the movement, looking like he had turned to glass, and then he just dissolved. 25 000 XP floated up from where number 16 had just been and my level progress bar went all the way to the right and popped back up at my left, my level switching from 10 to 11.
Contestant number 16: Eliminated
Chapter 17
I sank down, exhausted both mentally and physically. In rapid succession more announcements followed:
Contestant number 29: Eliminated
Contestant number 33: Eliminated
Contestant number 7: Eliminated
Contestant number 28: Eliminated
Contestant number 22: Eliminated
I pulled up the scoreboard and found one good thing and one bad. I had been awarded with the kill of number 16 when pushing him out of the battle area, but Tristan was beginning to run away with it. What the¡? Had he taken out three enemies in his last killing spree?
Tristan Toth, level 15: 125 000
Brad Richards, level 10: 75 000
Jack Marsh, level 14: 50 000
Following our three names, there was five more players that had scored their first kill and was now on the board with 25 000 points each. But, the former leader, Artes Belgrave was off the list. I looked at my score again. It had jumped from 25 000 to 75 000. I pondered that for a moment. Was it a mistake? I didn¡¯t think so. The only explanation was that gathered points was handed from the defeated player to the winner. I was pretty sure that number 16 had killed number 15. That also mean that Tristan probably hadn¡¯t scored three successive kills, but had actually taken out Artes Belgrave.
Remaining contestants: 37
I looted the corpse of number 16, getting another epic bow of burning, an epic sword of anguish and adding to my stock pile of health and stamina potions, and even more food. It was piling up but I still had plenty of inventory space left. Number 16 did have some unusual loot as well. Two potions of resist damage, which granted a 50 % reduction to both physical and magical damage, two large mana potions and one small vial of paralyzing poison. I realized, when looking at that bright red vial, that if he had used this to lace the arrow he struck me with, it would¡¯ve all been over. I wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake. I dipped three of my arrows in the paralyzing poison and put them in one of my quick slots. The vial, now drained from half of its content went back into the inventory together with my potions.
I checked the scoreboard again, not one player below level 14 on it, but at least I was level 11 now. I would guess that still made me the lowest ranked player in the tournament, but there was a massive difference between level 10 and level 11, and ¨C I got 1 more skill point to spend. I would hold on to it until my archery ability leveled up. I was a bit disappointed that my creative kill of number 16 wasn¡¯t rewarded with a new achievement but I guessed none had been programmed for this exact instance.
Ok, it was time to move out. I was out on an open field, the mountains shone a dull red, and there was a thin pine forest to my right. I saw no one else out on the crusted snow, and even if I had been fully preoccupied with number 16 running down to the battle area; I didn¡¯t think I had seen anyone enter the forest. But, they could¡¯ve been there all the time, of course. The contestants that had been dropped in proximity to me was all gone, taken out by either me or number 16. I needed to get back into the fray and do some damage, I just needed to figure out where the fray was.
I could sneak through the forest and maybe stumble into an ambush, or I could walk the white surface, encouraging anyone to try make a fight out of it. I had my bow (well, three of them actually) a high skill level for my level and skills invested into archery. I had a hard time seeing I would be in any major disadvantage in a ranged fight. But then there were those mages, those pesky mages with their lighting and fire bolts. Call me an optimist, but I didn¡¯t think a novis mage could shoot straight for a longer distance than I, so the open it was then.
I started walking, the snow crunching beneath my boots, the wind nipping at my cheeks.
An in-game-message popped up:
Sarah Parsa: Hi there: I like the way you handled contestant number 16. Innovative. Haven¡¯t seen that one before.
Brad Richards: You¡¯re watching the stream?
Sarah Parsa: No, I¡¯m watching it a Jacob¡¯s in Area 7. People are still on a high after the finale of Battle Clash and craves more blood and violence. Looks like the show runners were intrigued by your beef with Vinger, the brother of the Alpha Prime, so they are airing this instalment of the Battle Clash as well.
Beef? What was she talking about. I didn¡¯t share any food with Vinger. He was the last person I would break bread or anything with, if breaking his neck wasn¡¯t an option.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Brad Richards: It¡¯s airing? Is that a good thing?
Sarah Parsa: Oh, yes, it is.
Brad Richards: I guess you couldn¡¯t help me by telling where the other contestants are?
Sarah Parsa: You would be right about that. Strictly forbidden. But your head seem to be screwed on the right way. Your thinking has been sound this far, so just trust your instincts. Good luck.
And then she signed off. A timer started.
Communication lines will reopen in: 23:54 hours.
I trudged on through the great white plains of northern Windersmyr. Why couldn¡¯t they have dropped us in the lush and warm south? Would¡¯ve made for good TV as well, yes? So, this was being broadcasted, talking heads in the studio and all? I realized it really was a good thing, following my thoughts from earlier that it was better to be known quantity than a no-name-contestant that could be dragged into an alley and killed.
Then there was that deep sounding
booong again, and a new announcement popped up:
Contestant number 19: Eliminated
I pulled down the scoreboard. Crap, Tristan again. He was still level 15, though, that was some small consolation, but his 150.000 now doubled my score.
The sun came out and swept the grey away. The black robe helped to warm my frozen body but the glare of the light in the icy surface of the snow didn¡¯t help with my visuals.
I stopped, hunkered down and squinted. Wasn¡¯t there movement up ahead? I shielded my eyes with the palm of my hand. Yes, two other contestants caught up in a full-on fight. A jagged lightning bolt struck down on one of them and in return a bolt of fire came roaring over the sheet of snow.
Mages. Pesky mages.
I didn¡¯t think they¡¯ve seen me yet. Still in a crouch I started a slow run. I pulled the bow out from my inventory together with an arrow. I opted out from using one of the poisoned ones. My thinking was that I would be able to take both of them out while still out of their range. Mages robes did little to protect from physical damage.
Their fight was furious, hurling fire and lightning back and forth. The sounds of the cracks of lightning rolled over the open space like the sound of gun shots. The low murmuring whooshes of the fire balls wasn¡¯t as intense, but had an intimidating air to them. Why hadn¡¯t they killed each other already? The air around them was shivering like the air over asphalt on a hot day.
Shielding.
Right now, they must burn through their mana potions like crazy.
This was close enough.
I stopped, went down on one knee, getting the full accuracy bonus for being stationary. I pulled the string, steadying my breathing. To kill someone while they were engaged in combat was a bit of a dick move, but this wasn¡¯t the place for chivalry. It was killed or be killed, and I didn¡¯t think Tristan would hesitate for even a second.
I was stationary, but the two mages were not, far from it. They danced back and forth, circled each other. The wind was coming on pretty strong from the right. Maybe I should¡¯ve advanced a couple of extra strides? Too late for that now. I raised the bow and fired slightly against the wind. The firing against the wind wasn¡¯t experience or instinct, I realized, but my accuracy bonuses doing their job.
Before the arrow had even hit its target, I had a new one on the string, and pulled back.
The first arrow went in a perfect, flat, trajectory, being pushed towards the two mages by the wind. It would hit the right one of them. Then the mage charged up for another lighting strike and it was like the air around him warped, and it warped enough to make the arrow hiss by, maybe a foot in front of his face. He snapped his attention to me, the second arrow hitting him in the gut. A ball of fire came hurtling may way from the second mage.
Oh, crap. I fucked up, and I fucked up good.
I dove for the snow, the ball of fire sizzling past over me, scorching the back of my neck. I was back up on one knee in an instant, feeling the smell of burning cloth. My robe was on fire.
I pulled the string. The right on of the mages crouched, holding his hand to his gut where the arrow was still sticking out. The second mage ¨C his hands glowing in red ¨C shot him a glance, as if deciding whether to finish him or go after me.
He decided for me.
I let the arrow go. It went with a twang and good speed. The mage sidestepped and the arrow flew past him.
Oh, crap. That was what a level 15 mage could do? Had he downed some reaction potion or what? Hadn¡¯t the time to elaborate on that thought because now he hurled another fireball.
I rolled out of the way. The fireball. scorched past me, turning the snow to vapor and exploding dirt into the air.
I spun up to a standing position and charged at him, while pulling my sword of burning out.
The mage, apparently surprised by my charge stumbled backwards, the red glow around his hands already a deep crimson again. The hands of the wounded mage were also glowing.
I drank one of the reduce damage potions directly from the inventory. The two mages discharged at the same time, the wounded one at the mage that was preoccupied with me, who in his turn fired at me.
I saw the fireball coming roaring.
I pinched my eyes shut and braced myself.
It hit me like a hot brick wall. I stumbled, dazed and confused, smelling burnt hair. I blinked, the skin in my face tightening painfully. The mage that had hit me was on fire, the mage to the right sagging, his teeth gritted.
I got going again.
The mage with the arrow in his gut tried to unload at me, but hadn¡¯t the time. I slashed down on him and his head tumbled to the snow.
25 000 XP
rose in the air.
I turned to the other mage. He was flapping his arms turning wildly back and forth, as if trying to screw himself out of his own skin. I charged him and plunged my sword into his back. No way I would let this kill slip away from me. He got down to his knees, gurling before tipping forward into the snow that hissed beneath him.
25 000 XP
Contestant number 24: Eliminated
Contestant number 25: Eliminated
And just like that, I was in second place on the scoreboard with 125.000 points, my level bar making good progress towards level 12. I could see for my inner eye how Tristan was grinding his teeth, and Vinger doing the same, following the clash from some fancy restaurant in High Town, maybe hurling a glass of expensive wine to the wall. Yeah, I liked that image very much. Bet it was true.
Chapter 18
I grabbed both of their robes and some scrolls of destruction magic. Seemed like powerful stuff, even if they were novice level spells.
Arcane Fire ¨C creating a fire tornado that causes massive fire damage to enemies hit by it.
Helter Skelter ¨C generates a powerful lightning strike that arches between enemies if close enough together. Another scroll was called
The Light of the Holy Eye and was a healing scroll. Gives caster 200 % health for 30 seconds. Regenerates 25 health points per second for 2 minutes.
Just the kind of thing one wanted in a prolonged fight. Guess he kicked himself for not using it when I decided to crash their little mages party Oh well, down into my little sack it went.
One of the mages had a potion I hadn¡¯t seen before.
Become Etheral. Apparently, it would give me the ability to pop right through walls and floors of manmade structures. Could come in handy. The last scroll I found was a scroll of basic
Beast Mastery. It wasn¡¯t a scroll for casting but a scroll for learning the spell itself. It would do little good for a destruction mage out on a lethal free for all, so I guess he just never bothered with it. It was small fry in the world of mages, I guess since even I could cast it. It was dependant on my base Intelligence, and it was ¨C whatever you think ¨C high enough to crunch the spell, so I did.
A theatrical golden light swirled, and the muted thumping sound was heard before a prompt popped up before me.
New skill learned: Beast Mastery
Gives the ability to basic communication with animals.
Interesting. How far could one push that ability then? I looked the skill over, and it worked a bit different from other skills. It didn¡¯t have a skill tree or designated abilities. But rather, the deeper the bond I formed with the animal companion, the more advanced commands I could give it. What I could achieve as of now was basic communication with animals of a certain intelligence.
That was vague. What was meant by basic communication? And what was meant with a certain intelligence? I got it, I couldn¡¯t talk quantum physics with a slug, but would I be able to give instructions to a cat, having it peak around corners for me? I needed to check that up when I got the time. There was a lot I needed to check up. I had yet to master any of my Warpblade abilities. I had a decent mana pool, enough to do my strategy of quickly close the distance to enemies and quickly get out of a hot zone, but I hadn¡¯t yet grasped how to activate those abilities. And according to Sarah, I wouldn¡¯t for quite some time. To fully master abilities that dealt with teleportation and phasing took time and practice. It wasn¡¯t like flipping a switch. If I had had that information when I did my choice of classes, it wouldn¡¯t had swayed my decision, but I had hoped of having those abilities ready to use during the clash. But, on the other hand, if it had been easy, I would¡¯ve had to face enemies in the clash that teleported and phased away as well. I preferred not to.
I walked for maybe another hour, seeing nothing of interest, only this black and white world of dark rock and grainy snow. At least I wasn¡¯t cold. My stamina bar was on a downward trajectory and was now below 75 % percent. When I stopped for a break, it started climbing, but rising slowly.
There was this in-game-stamina gauge but there was also the old-fashioned tiredness that wouldn¡¯t be remedied by a potion or a spell, I needed food and rest, so I sat down and took it.
I cleared a spot with my boot for the firewood and lit it on fire with my basic fire caster skill. Black smoke rose to the sky in a slanted angle. Anyone in a ten-mile radius would see it. And I, would see them a quarter mile when they were coming. My fire as an open invitation to a fair fight where no one would get the jump on the other.
While I roasted some more meat, and threaded some of the leeks on the arrow as well it didn¡¯t look like no one was accepting the invitation.
Soon the meat was done and I gnawed on it with my front teeth, fat running down my chin.
A black shadow came swerving in from the right. I shot a glance over my shoulder. A big black bird landed further away on the snow. It looked at me, tilting its head slightly.
I¡¯m not good at birds, but this was either a crow or a raven. A raven I thought, since it looked too big to be a crow.
It clapped its beaker, blinking, his eyes for a briefly fogged over by a grey membrane. Hadn¡¯t I heard that birds were actually pretty smart? That there were parrots out there that could count and do all kinds of impressive shit?
I tore of a piece of meat with my teeth, spat it out in the palm of my hand and looked at the bird.
¡°You hungry, buddy?¡±
I lowered my palm to the snow, showing it to the bird. It did that tilt of the head thing again, and the blinking, and didn¡¯t move at all.
¡°All right. Shouldn¡¯t be too trusting. I can respect that. To many weirdos out there.¡±
I tossed the meat to the bird. It jumped back, wings doing a non-committal flap. The meat bounced on the frozen crust of snow. The bird darted for it, clapping its beak over it before doing that backwards flap again. When it had wolfed down the first piece, it looked at me with its neck stretched. Those little black eyes had a keen shine to them.
¡°Good, eyh? First time you tasted cooked food? Want more of that?¡±
The bird did and I chucked another morsel on the snow, only half the distance this time.
The bird scuttled over, head low, its eyes never leaving mine ¨C and snapped up the piece of meat before bouncing back again.
¡°Mmm, taaasty, yes? You want to come work for me? Yes? Be my eyes in the sky, yes?¡±
The bird didn¡¯t answer. I tossed out three morsels, this time close enough for me to grab the bird by its neck if it went for them. Hesitantly it jumped forward, giving me that tilt of the head, as if trying to figure out what I was trying to do. Yes, there was at least a basic form of intelligence in this bird. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
¡°It¡¯s yours, buddy. All it takes is a little trust. I ain¡¯t going to hurt you.¡±
It darted forward, collecting the three pieces of meat with impressive speed and then bounced back. It dropped them down in the snow and started eating. I did the same, intentionally ignoring the bird. I could see in my peripheral vision that it was done eating. It stretched not only its head, but its whole body, flapping its wings once before settling down. I ignored it, munching away. The bird hopped closer tilting its head. I ignored it. When it was back at the spot where it had snapped up the last three morsels, I slowly turned my head and looked at it. It shrugged back, but it stayed in place.
I tore of another morsel, placed it in my hand and gently lowered it to the bird. It plucked it from my palm, made half a scuttle back before turning its head up, wolfing the meat down.
New Achievement unlocked: Bird Whisperer. For tying a basic bond with an animal from the bird family.
Reward: 250 XP
The XP was pitiful, but I guess it marked how far I¡¯ve advanced since my first day in Windersmyr, when I was chasing 25 XP kills with the musketeers.
When I broke camp to continue, the bird hopped after me in the snow, before taking air, its wings whipping the air with a sound almost sounding like muted explosions.
¡°So long, partner,¡± I said, giving the bird a two-finger salute as it curved towards the woods.
To my surprise it swung back, making a wide circle above my head. It seemed intent to stay with me. Sometimes it flew into the woods, and was gone for a while, but then it was back, circling above me, and sometimes it landed in the snow ahead of me, making silly sidestep jumps as if to encourage me. I didn¡¯t know of this was an effect of the basic bond or if the bird was still hungry, but either way, I didn¡¯t mind having it around.
Rick Solomon: Buddyyyy! They seem to have turned on your in-game-chat. Looking good out there!¡±
Brad Richards: Hey, Rickster! Good hearing from you. What¡¯ve you and the guys been up to?¡±
Rick Solmon:
Hey, cut the crap. We¡¯ve been doing the daily grind, but you¡¯re on the friggin tv! You¡¯re the one that¡¯s going to do the talking.¡±
Brad Richards: Are the others there as well?
Morton Lofeldt: Porthos reporting!
Michael Lee: Aramis reporting!
Brad Richards: Hey, guys. Great hearing from you all. Is a bit lonely out here. Haven¡¯t seen a human soul for hours.
Rick Solomon: And those you find, you kill. But, yeah, the crowd is starting to get restless. You spoiled them with action this far. That fight with the mages was really cool.
Brad Richards: Crowd?
Rick Solomon: We¡¯re at Anchors. Never seen so much people here this early. Rob and Dean is here as well. Dean tells me that kill when you bumped the other guy out of the battle area was pure cheating!
I chuckled.
Brad Richards: Tell him its wrestling rules. When you¡¯re off the mat, you¡¯re out.
Rick Solomon: Will do, and Brad? Cant tell you anything of importance, they will real time censor it and give the offender a lengthy ban, but stay away from Tristan.¡±
Brad Richards: Stay away as in stay awaaay. Or stay away, that guy is really good, watch out?
Rick Solomon: Can¡¯t tell you more than that. Need to sign off. We only get a couple of minutes. Parting words, mate. KICK THEIR ASSES!
And then he was gone. I trudged on. The bird landed on my shoulder. My eyes went wide, but I didn¡¯t dare turning my head looking at it, afraid to scare it away. It was one of those moments, like you had to be there, but my heart swelled a little with the birds sudden show of trust.
¡°Yeah, you¡¯re my good buddy now, aren¡¯t you? Need to get a name for you? Melvin maybe?¡±
The bird gave me a peck at the temple.
Oh, what the¡?
¡°No?
Bob, then?¡±
Another peck. Really? Did the bird actually say it disapproved?
¡°Shadow?¡±
A moment¡¯s hesitation, and then the peck. Okay, this
had to be part of the basic bond. This couldn¡¯t be normal animal behaviour, could it?
¡°Cloak?¡±
The bird clapped its beak once.
¡°Cloak, yes?¡±
The bird clapped its beak again.
¡°Okay, it¡¯s settled then. Welcome to the team, Cloak.¡±
Cloak clapped his beak twice.
Another hour. Cloak was circling the sky. Anchors had to be completely deserted by now. Who would want to watch a guy just trudge through snow for hours? I had left the woods behind and started to angle to my right, to what I perceived to be toward the centre of the battle area. Sergeant Watts had said that the battle area was constructed of concentric circles; that meant that for every ring they closed, we, the contestants, were herded closer to each other. If I couldn¡¯t do anything else in this situation, I could at least make sure I wouldn¡¯t need to make a mad dash for the next battle area, putting myself at risk.
The sun was about to set. There had been a single announcement during the day, Contestant number 35 had been killed. But that was it.
Bong¡
That female voice again, sounding like a goddess, her voice filling the barren lands around me.
Greetings contestants. In the dawn of time, when the world was created the lightning of creation struck the Iron Mountains of Warnheim, creating not only Jotan ¨C the god of war ¨C but also the elusive vein of lunar ore that has been mined there since the first men. These mythical and legendry relics of the Ancients are revered with almost religious fervour in the north and are handed from the hands of kings to princes. I¡¯m happy to inform you that one such relic has now been discovered close to the old ruin, now marked on your maps. That is all, thank you.
Really? It wasn¡¯t only the people at Anchors that had gotten restless. The Game Command had too. And what better way to stir the pot than offering game-breakingly OP gear to low level players involved in a death match?
Carnage would ensue.
I brought down my map. There was a yellow dot blinking some distance to the south east. My mission tab was blinking a soft, translucent blue. I pulled it down. It contained a mini map of the abandoned fortress and its surroundings. To the right was an expandable window showing a sword.
I clicked it open, and the sword floated out, gently revolving around its own axis in a swirl of red mist.
Orak¡¯s Wrath (Mythical) ¨C Level 32
Mythical sword of draining, once belonging to the first king of Warnheim ¨C Orak Wintersbane. This sword of lunar steel, forged in the fires of Mortar, leeches the life blood of its enemies as it sets them on fire while having the chance of causing momentarily confusion making the target attack its allies.
Oh my. I wanted it. I wanted it so bad.
Three active effects? The chance to cause confusion was set at 20 %, the drainage effect was 2,5 % a second. The attack value of the sword was a mind boggling 8270. I didn¡¯t understand how it could be that high, but guessed it had something to do with the fact that the sword had a level of its own. I had never seen that before. If this sword levelled all the way to 100, as everything else seemed to¡ the power level of that weapon, it was something¡ else. It was proper endgame loot.
I glanced at the map. I guess the Game Control had chosen a location that would give us all the same starting distance to the dungeon. The one getting there first and laid their hands on the sword would have to fight themselves out of the dungeon while other contestants were pouring in. The fortress would turn into a goddamn slaughterhouse. If I wanted to be the first in there, I needed to leg it, now, and not look back. Just full-on force forward. But
did I want to be the first one in? I didn¡¯t think I did? I thought I had a shot at it. My speed wasn¡¯t much to talk about, but my endurance and fortitude was. It wouldn¡¯t be a mad dash for the cave, it would, not quite literarily be a Marathon, but not far from it.
But to voluntarily go down that vortex of violence and killing? I have no problem with violence and killing when it¡¯s me distributing it.
I could picture it, clusters of guys fighting, four or five at the time, ripping and clawing, stabbing, and slashing.
No, that was too much of a dice roll and only stupid people relied on luck.
The outline of a plan started to form, and this one too, included a hefty amount of running. I downed a stamin potion, bumping my stamina bar up to 87, and started running.
Chapter 19
I sank down behind a boulder and tried to get my breathing under control. Sweat poured down my face as I pulled ragged breath after ragged breath. It was in the dead of night. The moon was up. I blinked sweat out of my eyes, trying to ease my acing chest back into a normal rhythm of breathing.
Earlier this summer, I broke my current record of 1 hour and 15 minutes on the 10-mile run along the Ocean Front Walk in Santa Monica. I almost threw up the whole last mile. My energy reserves had been spent; everything had been spent expect my determination to break that time that has evaded me for almost a year. I did break it, but I had never been more exhausted in my life, until now.
Cloak plunked down on top of the boulder.
¡°Kraahh!¡±
¡°I¡¯m..
oh-oh-kay, buddy.¡±
My breathing started to get back down to human levels, and I downed another stamina potion, couldn¡¯t remember how many I gulped down during my run to the hills just outside the abandoned fortress, but they were many. I just hoped you couldn¡¯t get stamina potion poisoning or something from excess drinking. I needed to gather my mind as well as my body. I had burnt everything I had getting here, and the mere thought of actually going into battle in this shape almost made me want to laugh, in despair.
I¡¯ll tell you the grand plan. It¡¯s the product of a true master mind. It¡¯ll dazzle you, I promise.
I didn¡¯t want to get down into the dungeon beneath the fortress for said reasons, that I didn¡¯t want to be inside that meat grinder when things started moving. Instead, I planned to ambush those that came down the path below me, trying to get to the fortress.
Easy pickings. Even if I didn¡¯t get the sword, I would gain a truck load of XP and maybe level past some of my remaining opponents.
But during the run over here, I might¡¯ve reconsidered. There had already been two legendary items in the contest to begin with, and now this mythical behemoth of a sword was in it as well? What chances did I have to win the clash if I had to fight my way through that? Slim to none, I would say.
I needed that mythical sword. I had already taken a huge risk running like a mad man to get here before everyone else. There could be hours¡ maybe days even before anyone else turned up. I could literally just go in and grab that sword and be out of here before anyone else even knew it was gone. That wouldn¡¯t probably happen, but there was a chance, and if I needed to fight, wouldn¡¯t I rather do it with a mythical sword in my hand? If I didn¡¯t go for it, I would need to fight the guy getting it later down the path, and something just told me that person would be Tristan Toth. At the same time, I couldn¡¯t get my mind of off Ricks words:
Stay away from Tristan.
Decisions, decisions, what to do. I licked the salt from my upper lip and stared down the ground. I wouldn¡¯t win this by playing safe. I¡¯d always known that. You could sit back and see how things unfolded when you were in a position of power. I was the furthest thing from that. I needed to take risks to reap any significant rewards, and I couldn¡¯t think of a greater reward than
Orak¡¯s Wrath.
It was decided then.
I got back to my feet and lumbered down the rocky foot path towards the abandoned fortress.
The fortress, squat and angular, was cast in shadows of blue and grey. The foot path passed in front of it, continuing up the hills on the other side. The cliff in front of the fortress it sheared off and below was a white torrent of water, creating a low and constant rumble, filling the night air with cold mist. I saw rocks jutting up through the white froth.
The fortress had two semicircular window openings and a square door, lined with sturdy rectangular blocks of stone, belted with iron. The lion-share of the fortress seemed to be built into the mountain side itself.
I saw no lights in the windows. I guess no one would be as foolish to light a candle but mages were found of summoning those little tracer balls of light that followed them around. Their light was weak, but I would¡¯ve seen it if it was there.
I continued down the foot path. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if I was the first one here, but that meant nothing if they caught me still in the fortress when they got here.
There was only one entrance to the fortress, as I could see. That didn¡¯t mean there couldn¡¯t be an exit somewhere else. In fact, I thought there
had to be. A mountain fort like this? All the enemy had to do was to bar the doors and the poor bastards could sit and rot in there until they starved to death. I wasn¡¯t making me any illusions though; the abandoned fortress was only the tip of the iceberg, beneath, I would bet, there was a vast sprawling dungeon and there would be no easy fetch quest with an entrance door clearly visible.
When the path levelled out, I fixed my eyes on the narrow pass at the other end of it. This would be another gruelling kill zone, when people came from both sides of this path to get to the entrance of the fort. The decision to get in as soon as possible started to feel like a sound one.
I pushed on the forts door and it swung open, menacingly creaking.
Just step into my mouth, dear sir. Never mind the fangs-s-s.
I stepped in, seeing nothing more than what the lunar light allowed, which wasn¡¯t much.
A dark shadow exploded on the wall.
My heart jumped.
Cloak landed in the window opening.
¡°Jeeesus,¡± I hissed. ¡°Stop doing that, being all sneaky and stuff.¡±
The bird tilted its head, looking at me.
My eyes had adjusted a bit to the darkness and I saw the outlines of another door further into the room. Toppled and mangled benches was strewn across the floor. Wood splintered and sharp.
There had been a fight here, but not recently. I can say for sure how I knew, but there was a stillness in the room and a damp chill that told me I was the first person in here for ages. There was a certain scent from fresh wood, but these splinters were old. If I would¡¯ve had enough light to see the splinters properly, I knew they would be grey, not white.
I shuffled to the second door and pulled it open. I was met with the soft glow of a torch on a sconce on the wall. I snuck in and started closing the door. Cloak zipped past me before the door closed completely.
¡°Really? You want in on this?¡±
¡°Kr
aah-kra-kra.¡±
Obviously. In front of me there was a steep set of granite stairs and a handrail of unadorned iron, plummeting into new darkness. I hurried down. No need to be cautious any more. I was first to the cave and the only factor right now was speed. I came out in a small dark room, like an antechamber of some sorts. Light seeped through a pair of arched double doors in front of me.
I pushed them open, and ground to a halt, my jaw slowly dropping.
Oh, hell no¡
The vast hall was well lit up with balls of light that seemed to float in the air, and from lights that was set into the many stalagmites that went from floor to ceiling. That wasn¡¯t what had got my chin to drop, though.
The air inside was alive with the clatter and clacking from jaws. The floor of the cavernous hall was full of skeletons, ambling around mindlessly, their shoulders drooping, their skeletal arms hanging, their faces in perpetual deranged grins. There had to be at least fifty of them in there. It would take hours to clear them out if it was even possible.
I scanned the room. Most of the skeletons was low level, around level five and level six. In another situation I wouldn¡¯t have minded sitting perched above them picking them off, one by one with arrows, building my archery skill ¨C or cut them down, slow and methodical, building my one-handed skills. But I didn¡¯t have the time. I stared at the sea of skeletons below me, the air rustling and clattering from their movement. Now would have been a perfect time to activate that teleportation skill ¨C if I had gotten it to work properly.
Crap¡
But, on the other hand? Why should I be the friendly neighbourhood plowman? Every second I spent on these stupid skeletons was seconds those behind me wouldn¡¯t need to bother with, seconds that would slow me down and speed them up.
That equation didn¡¯t work to my benefit.
I looked around the walls. There was no way of sneaking past them either. I¡¯ve encounter theses mobs before. They were as dumb as anyone would expect, and they didn¡¯t see for shit. But when they sensed movement, they came at you and then they came fast. And when one of them went, they all went.
So, if I couldn¡¯t clear them out, and if I couldn¡¯t get around them, I had no other choice than to go
through them ¨C brawler style.
I surveyed the hall. The closest way to the door on the other side of the hall was a straight line. I pulled my epic sword of chills in my right hand and one of my flame swords in the other. The floor looked smooth and even. I just needed to gun it and stop for nothing. I drank down a portion of stamina and then, in quick succession one potion of increase strength that would last me for 30 seconds, and a potion of increase attack speed. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
Then I started running.
The closest skeleton stopped and whipped its head towards me. I crushed it with a super charged strike from left to right, cleaving the skulls of two other skeletons at the same time. My legs were pumping, my teeth gritted, whipping my swords, sending skulls and skeletal arms flying. Then the mass of clattering bodies thickened. I chopped and hacked and pounded; grinning skulls cracking in front of me, skulls being reduced to bone meal. I cut them down in droves and they just kept coming, lunged over their dead brethren, mouths agape, screeching with fingers splayed as they grasped for me.
I was stalling. Rigid fingers were clawing at my face. A bony hand clamped around my ankle, dead black eyes looking almost excited.
I stomped down on the head of the skeleton holding my ankle. Its head went clomp and then split like a jagged rose over the floor. I elbowed another in the face and concentrated my power in a short bullrush. That got me some momentum again.
I started working both my swords again, using them alternately as a grand scissor, decapitating skeletons while at the same time cutting outwards at those trying to close in. Then space became too cramped again, my forward movement one again stalled.
Cloak was flying circles over the carnage, going
krahh-kra-kra, dive bombing the skeletons, his beak bouncing of their skulls.
My stamina was draining fast.
I downed another stamina potion and made another bull rush forward.
The stamina bar plummeted right back to a flashing red.
Crap.
I was in over my head here. I tucked my epic sword of chills back into the inventory, and started punching like a jack hammer, sending teeth and cheek bones rattling over the floor. Downed yet another stamina potion and was able to stay above the low-level alert.
I tucked the other sword into the inventory as well, and moved forward delivering quick jabs and swings, sending skeletons toppling left and right. I smashed one on the head with a hook, and for once its head didn¡¯t snap off, but instead cartwheeled the wholes skeleton. I hit another one at the top of the head with my left and then crunched its jaw with my right. Its body jerked this way and that, performing an odd-looking dance before collapsing in a pile of bones. And then, I popped out of the crowd of skeletons.
I wasn¡¯t at the far wall yet, had at least two strides left, but I¡¯d left their immediate area of concern and now it was as if I didn¡¯t exist to them anymore. They just ambled on, shuffling the remains of their double dead friends in front of their feet.
Cloak landed on my shoulder, lifted his wings while leaning forward, going all
krah-krah
on them ¨C a bird¡¯s version of giving the finger, I would presume.
¡°Good work, buddy.
When I was through the sea of skeletons, the achievements started coming in, most of them for killing a certain number of skeletons but also one for going in battle with an animal companion. Was that what Cloak was now, an animal companion? Didn¡¯t know it was that formalized but, hey, the bird did good. He can be my wingman anytime.
My one-handed skill rose 2 levels to 26 and my un-armed combat to 22. It felt good going into battle and duke it out upfront and personal. I¡¯d been relying too much on my bow. It needed to be a bit more knuckles and iron going forward, taking advantage of my brawler class bonuses.
I opened the door and on the other side there was a short flight of stairs leading down into a dimly lit room. I went down the stairs and came out behind a large brown boulder that obscured my view. A foot path circled the boulder on the left and to the right of it, I glimpsed what looked like another large area.
I snuck up to the boulder and peeked out from it.
There was a flat brown cave floor below and what looked like the edges of a body of greenish blue water.
I heard voices.
I crouched, turning my ear towards the sounds.
Other contestants? Had I been that wrong? But why would two contestants stand and chat around, when the mythical sword could be literally within their grasp. There were no teams allowed.
After a while, I was certain it was bandit mobs I was hearing.
I moved to the left side of the boulder and looked out.
There were five of them. One bandit chief and three regular bandits. The chief was level 17 and the others levels 5 to 6. That bandit chief meant trouble. I didn¡¯t want to get entangled with him if I could help it.
I brought up my mini map. I couldn¡¯t tell for sure, but it looked like there was three tunnels from the room below. I had already decided to continue my strategy of minimal contact, leaving the fights and the time sinks to my competitors. But if I rushed past the bandits and they chased me down to a dead end, I would be in serious trouble.
Suddenly, I go an in-gam-message that I¡¯d levelled up my sneak ability to 14. I did that just by sitting here? How about that? Well, thinking of that; maybe I could sneak past them? They were at the far right of the room, and if I could sneak into the corridor closest to me¡ it wasn¡¯t out if the question, even with a sneak ability of a measly 14.
If my
Beast Mastery had been higher, I could¡¯ve sent Cloak out and do some recon in for me, but ¨C
Bong!
Contestant number 4, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 2, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 27, eliminated.
And so it begins, I thought my teeth clenched. The others had arrived, faster than I had hoped. Maybe they had run into each other in the mountains coming down to the old fort. Maybe, but I¡¯ve gotten a clear signal I needed to push on.
I descended the sharp turn around the boulder in a crouch, peaking out at the side of a stalagmite, into the room.
The body of water was a perfectly round pond, with a strange but beautiful astral light shining up from it in a soft glow, grains of light floating inside it. Those bandits were guarding it.
What was it? The fountain of youth? The fountain of life ¨C the source from where all the healing potions came? Or, maybe, the final resting place for
Orak¡¯s Wrath?
Maybe they tried to trick me to venture to the bottom of this goddamn dungeon, when they had in fact hid it at the bottom of the pond at the very beginning?
Wouldn¡¯t that just be hilarious?
I could take the fight and have a look, but it wouldn¡¯t be a quick fight and there were no guarantees I would win. To bring down a level 17 bandit chief with my bow I needed to stay not only concealed but also strike a critical hit, doubling up on the damage bonuses, but that fucker was halfway hidden behind a pillar, and he moved in and out of it while he was talking gesturing wildly, barking with laughter.
Oh crap, decisions, decisions.
I decided to continue with the original plan. If they spotted me, I would get the fight whether I wanted it or not. But this way, I at least had a chance of doing some actual exploring. I hoped I still would have the time to get back and check the pond before the others came tumbling in.
I hunched down and ventured as far out as I dared. I was still mostly hidden by the stalagmite on my left, but I could see the group of bandits on the other side of the pond. They were drinking from study wooden cups, the chief holding court while the other three was grinning and nodding. I noticed that the chief, who was the one looking my direction, had this thing when he looked upward to the ceiling, smiling while shaking his head as if reminiscing a particularly funny story, before taking a big gulp of his drink. That was when I needed to move. I got up in a start position, almost as a sprinter, one hand on the stalagmite.
The chief smiled and looked up at the ceiling.
I took off, running awkwardly in a crouch. It was looking good, great even. And that was when I accidentally kicked a small rock on the cave floor.
The fraction of a second later I was in safety at the tunnel entrance.
¡°Whaaat!¡± The chieftain roared and I heard the rattle and clatter from weapons being readied.
¡°
Kra-a-ah!¡± Cloak throated and swept in where I had kicked the rock.
Silence, before the chieftain started laughing.
¡°Had me fooled their son of Jotan! We¡¯re honoured you¡¯re visiting within our halls.¡±
I raised an eye brow. These northern bandits seemed to hold the raven in high regard, even considering it something of a minor deity, or at least the representation of one. Could be useful information. Soon, Cloak came flapping and landed on my shoulder.
Together we ventured deeper into the tunnel.
Torches lit our way, but the tunnel just curved down and down to the right, taking me further and further away from the pond.
Damn. I should¡¯ve checked it while I had the chance.
On my mini map I saw another tunnel. If I was close enough for that tunnel to show up on the map, I guessed it went to the same room I was heading for. One tunnel leading down, and one leading up. If that was true, that would account for two of the tunnels on the floor above, leaving only the one where the bandits sat for further exploring.
If the sword wasn¡¯t down here, I needed to haul ass and get back up. Probably there would be other tunnels in the room below, leading to other rooms and eventually to an exit, but the feeling I¡¯d made a horrible mistake grew ever stronger; the feeling that I was moving away from the sword, not closer to it. Some bastard would just walk in there and pluck it from the pond while I was getting lost in an underground maze.
I could
feel it.
There was no logical reasoning behind this feeling, and I wasn¡¯t to let myself be governed by whims and superstitions, but my
god it was a strong feeling.
When would this fucking, stupid tunnel
end?
I gritted my teeth and started taking the steps three at the time. The steps were wet and slippery and, yeah, you guessed it. Suddenly my feet were pointing at the ceiling of the tunnel and I was going teeth rattling
hump-a-dump on my neck and shoulder down the stairs, slamming into the curving wall, getting the air knocked out of me.
Groaning I turned back on my hand and knees, lights shooting before my eyes. Things could be broken, brain cells lost, but the only thing I could think off was by god I hope the Game Control had their invisible cameras on someone else.
I got up, brushed myself off and hobbled down the stairs, my left knee feeling as if the joint was about to pop apart. It couldn¡¯t be helped; I had to waste a health potion to get my body back into full working order. What a waste: I did have 72 left in my inventory, so maybe I could spare just this one.
The pain in my leg lifted like fog on a summers morning and once again I was hurrying down the steps but going one step at the time this time.
Bong!
Contestant number 20, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 8, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 6, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 10, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 30, eliminated.
It was really happening now. One part of me was dying to pull down the score board and see how many of the kills that had gone to Tristan, but the sensible part of me screamed like a lunatic to keep going, without wasting either a step or a breath on the exploits of Tristan Toth.
Finally, I reached level ground. Another black door. I pushed it open while pulling my blade. There was nothing on the other side of the door. Only a round room with a single torch on the wall, a wooden crate and a pile of blankets ¨C and another tunnel continuing further into the mountain.
¡°Fuck!¡±
I paced round the room and found the other tunnel, the one leading back up.
Why build a separate tunnel for going back up?
Because this isn¡¯t real! Have you forgotten about that? This is a friggin video game! You thinking like someone has actually bult this fort as a functioning military installation is leading you to the wrong conclusions.
I licked my lips and stared at the dark corridor at the other side of the room. That tunnel lead further into the mountain, not to an exit. This fort was built as a set piece for the Battle Clash. It probably hadn¡¯t even existed until the Game Control decided to throw the mythical sword into the mix.
That tunnel. It was bait. Nothing more.
I looked up the dark tunnel. Then I cursed. Then I ran.
Bong!
Contestant number 34, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 41, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 9, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 11, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 31, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 37, eliminated.
Bong!
Contestant number 35, eliminated.
Chapter 20
At the top of the stairs, I leaned on my knees and gasped, back heaving. The flow of blood in my ears thundered and drowned out all other sounds. The flashes of announcement had thinned out during my mad dash up the stairs and had now died out completely. I¡¯d been too late. I¡¯d been down to the cellar and back, and while I¡¯d been stumbling about down there, the fight for the sword had been fought, and won. Only fools relied on the roll of the dice, but I hadn¡¯t gotten the chance to even roll it. I needed to collect my breath before charging out into the next room. I saw no red dots out there, but that meant nothing. I needed to open the door and have the enemy in my field of vision before they lit up in red.
More worrisome, though. I heard no sounds from the other side of the door.
I stood up, wiped the sweat from my face ¨C from my
idiot face. God I was annoyed with myself, just ran past that sword in the pond. I was still nourishing the faint hope that the sword hadn¡¯t been in the pond after all, and that the other contestants had piled up in there, fighting the bandits, and then each other until no one was left. I hoped, but I didn¡¯t really believe it.
I opened the door and the light from the hall stabbed my eyes. It looked like a slaughterhouse, bodies pilled upon bodies, streaks of blood sullying the celestial pond, making the divine light a sickly maroon, the swirling lights in it like clots of blood. All this mayhem was filed back by my subconscious as irrelevant. What
was
relevant was the man standing by the pond, staggering back and forth, as ready to tumble into the pool of water, blood seeping from a wound in his stomach, starring at a sword in his limp hand.
Liquid fire floated over the blade like water, reflecting in the mans transfixed eyes.
Orak¡¯s Wrath.
There was a swirl of light around the man and he seemed to get better control over his body. He had downed a health potion. He stood a little taller, a little prouder, still staring at that liquid, fiery sheen.
Blood spattered over the blade as I planted an arrow in the back of his head. He collapsed, dropping the sword.
275 000 XP
My level bar went crazy, filling up faster than I could see, before starting over and gradually slowing down and grinding to a halt just before reaching level 16.
I hardly noticed.
My eyes were fixed on the blade that hit the ground with a clean metallic sound, nothing like the dull and unimaginative sound of iron, or the abrasive and aggressive sound of steel, it was like a finely tuned instrument, its resonance shivering like death in the air. It bounced once before coming to a still at the edge of the pond.
I darted for it, having an unreasonable fear that it would vanish before my eyes if I didn¡¯t claim it right away.
There was a surge of power within me when I grabbed the sword, a staunch feeling that made me feel like made of stone and steel, fire coursing through my body. It was an intoxicating feeling and a pulled a deep breath, feeling like I breathed out fire like a human dragon.
¡°Oh-ho-ho,¡± I said grinning, before bursting out in a subdued laughter that sounded quite mad even to myself. ¡°This power, Cloak¡ If you only could feel it¡¡±
¡°Kra-
kra-aa-aah!¡± Cloak said doing circles to the big boulder at the far door, seeming agitated.
¡°What?¡±
The double doors slammed open. I raised the sword to my shoulder.
Tristan Toth emerged behind the big boulder, leisurely strolling down the curving foot path on his heels.
¡°Well, braaavo,¡± he said, smirking while gently clapping his hands. ¡°I was hoping you fools would do the job for me.¡±
He was dressed in a knee length padded arms coat with a chest harness of what looked like silver steel, and a bright green cloak. Bracers and gauntlets of finely crafted steel and on his back, a long double handed sword. I recognized it as the epic sword of breaking from the weapons selection, granting 20 % extra physical damage; a truly fearsome weapon but nothing more than a Wall Marts toy compared to my mythical, on-of-a-kind sword. And yet, Tristan approached without fear. Wasn¡¯t there even a trace of mockery in his face?
Whatever you do, stay away from Tristan.
That fancy padded robe, the greaves and gauntlets. He hadn¡¯t won them in the Clash. He had brought those with him. He had offered up his sword as we all did, but where we had brought firewood and food, potions and the odd scroll in our inventories, he had stocked up with stuff given to him by his two older brothers. What could the Alpha Prime of Breaker City bestow upon his beloved baby brother to ensure him victory in his first clash? I didn¡¯t dare think about it, but I feared I would get to know sooner rather than later.
¡°Vinger told me to take my time with you, so I will.¡±
Tristan had reached levelled ground and reached back for the hilt of his sword. I had time to wonder how he expected to pull a five-foot sword out of the scabbard on his back, but it detached like if it had been stuck on there with magnets.
Nifty.
I expected him to sink down into a battle stance and, full of bravado, shout a ¡°come on!¡± or something, but he just stood there, the tip of his sword hovering just above the cave floor. His eyes had been blue when I¡¯d seen him at the town square, but they looked darker now. His blonde shoulder length hair looked,
lighter? Yes, I though it did, almost white now. What the hell was going on here?
¡°You¡¯re holding my sword, friend,¡± he said in a perfectly calm voice. ¡°It¡¯s the first and the last time you will lay your eyes on such an exquisite object and for that reason alone, I will indulge you. Letting you get a lick of divinity, so that you can for the rest of your life will know what you will never have again.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
¡°Get off your fucking soap box,¡± I snarled through. ¡°Are we fighting or are we debating?¡±
He chuckled and made a large lazy arc with the longsword, rotating his wrist, demonstrating his strength. He was level 19, now.
¡°Oh, we¡¯ll fight. Don¡¯t you worry about that, friend.¡±
A crimson swirl suddenly bloomed up around him, streaked with strands of oily black. He had downed some potion. His fair hair lifted from his shoulders and floated up as if he was submerged beneath water. His eyes turned black and his face, now a as white as his hair, cracked up in an impossible wide grin, as if he was a snake ready to unhinge his jaws. His sword glowed with a dull red, looking like blood reflecting in fire.
¡°Well,¡± he said with a voice deep and demonic. ¡°You wanted to
plaaay?¡±
Holy fuck¡
A shiver of raw fear went through me. My eyes darted towards the footpath behind him. There was no way to squeeze past him. I needed to fight him. The sword and the power it gave strengthened me and I tried to get that sense of power to override the primal fear of Tristan¡¯s demonic appearance.
It¡¯s nothing but theatre make-up, all right?
Tristan rushed across the floor, like a storm surge and his blade came down in a brutal arc, powered by the dark gods.
I stumbled backwards in sheer surprise. I got my sword up to fend of the attack.
The blades crashed together. My right wrist snapped like a broken twig ¨C exploding pain all the way up to my elbow.
The next strike came from the side and struck the sword out of my hand. Shivering and turning in the air, the sword struck the far wall.
I stared at it, then at Tristan, my heart pounding like it was trying to hammer itself out of my chest. My wrist screamed in agony but I was too deep in shock to even think about downing a health potion.
¡°Oh, you
puuuny creatures.¡± Tristan said with that beefy demonic voice, gliding over into a laughter that sounded almost sorrowful.
He raised his sword and brought it back to the side, lining up the killing blow. My sense of self-preservation kick in. I ducked.
The blade whooshed past above me.
I finally downed a health potion and rolled to the side. The blade crashed down next to my head, slapping my face with an explosion of pulverized stone.
I was back up one my feet, running for the sword.
I drank down a potion of
Enhanced Attack Speed which also boosted my sprint ability. I snatched the sword from the ground, with my left hand, and spun around. My right wrist was still broken, despite the health potion, and throbbed and ached. The timer until I could take the next potion was at 21 seconds.
Tristan stood where he was, looking almost bored.
¡°What¡¯s up with your face? You weren¡¯t pretty before but this is downright nasty,¡± I said, keeping my voice surprisingly even.
I needed to stall him until I could drink another health potion.
17 seconds.
Tristan grunted a rumbling subdued laugh.
¡°Trying to stall? Trying to gain some valuable seconds, are we? Your right hand looks a bit¡ floppy.¡±
8 seconds.
¡°Well, this will end soon enough so I will give you those seconds, for what it¡¯s worth.¡±
¡°Such a gentleman. Or is it gentle
demon at this point?¡±
My mouth just kept running, spouting nonsense.
3¡2¡1
I tore the Bow of Slow Speed from my inventory, grabbing one of the three poisoned arrows in the quick slot. The first arrow was on the string before I even realized it.
I pulled the string and let the arrow fly.
If I could strike him with an arrow, take his speed and strength away, I could finish him of with my mythical sword.
The arrow hissed through the air. I had another one on the string before the first one struck ¨C which it didn¡¯t. Tristan swatted it away with the back of his hand, an annoyed frown on his face.
The next arrow was in the air.
Tristan fanned out in the room. That¡¯s the only way I can describe it. It was like he multiplied out to the left and to the right, and suddenly all the copies of him came rushing at me.
I dove headfirst in between two of them, and once again I felt his blade pass right above me.
The passage to the door.
Tristan was behind me.
It was free.
I ran for it.
A bright pain lanced up through my right leg. I gritted my teeth and hobbled on. A dark splinter, looking like a sliver of black glass protruded from my thigh.
What the¡? Panic and desperation was mounting.
Another shard of glass shattered against the wall to my right. The splinters hitting my face like a fistful of razor blades.
Don¡¯t stop. Get up there. Get through the door. Get through the ¨C
I stumbled forward, felt the pressure against the small of my back before the pain exploded. One of those fucking glass shards was sticking out through my stomach. It had passed almost right through and I pulled the sticky shard out of my body as I hobbled on, blood spilling down my pants.
Oh, God. I wouldn¡¯t live through this.
I heard him behind me, walking unhurriedly, taking his time just as promised.
¡°Why don¡¯t you just lie down and die? This is pitiful,¡± he rumbled behind me.
¡°Fuck you,¡± I said but it came out almost like a sob.
There was blood on my lips. My legs had started to go cold and numb. I heard Cloak
krah-krah-krah. Don¡¯t attack, buddy, I was trying to say but it stayed a thought.
He will kill you. He will kill both of us.
I shouldered open the door to the skeleton room. They were all dead and reduced to heaps of bones. I shuffled trough them, dragging my limp leg behind me.
It couldn¡¯t end like this.
Once again, I saw Vinger for my inner eye, but now he wasn¡¯t fuming and throwing his glass of expensive wine to the wall. He was standing, jubilant, toasting with his friends, receiving backslaps.
Fuck no.
Hell no.
I downed a health potion, grabbed the splinter in my leg and pulled that one out as well. There was a gush of hot blood running down my leg, pooling in my boot, but the pain subsided, and the flow of blood stopped.
I took one running step before zigging right. The piece of glass smashed into the floor.
I zigged right again, and the shard of glass hit me in the back of the shoulder making me stumble forward, droplets of blood flying past my face.
The pain was excruciating.
Blood ran down my arm and dripped from my hand.
I had the sword in my hand, I realized. Hadn¡¯t been aware that I had drawn it.
I spun around, swinging, hitting nothing more than air.
Tristan was maybe two strides behind me, walking at a safe distance like he was out walking the dog.
He raised his right hand.
The palm opened like a black toothless mouth. Another one of those shards of glass shot out of it.
I twisted out of the way and it smacked into the door at the other end of the room. I turned and ran for it.
Another glass javelin shattered against the wood when I got my hand on the iron ring of the door. Shrapnel of glass hit me in the eye, turning the world into a red blur.
I got the door open and darted at the step stairs leading back up into the fort.
I could make this. I stared up at the rectangle of grey light at the top of the stairs.
Then I heard Tristan¡¯s steps behind me.
The timer for the health potion was up and I downed another one, followed by a stamina potion, topping up with a reduce damage potion, and then my last speed potion.
I bounded up the stairs.
I could
make this.
The corridor lit up in an amber glow. A big fluttering whoosh grew behind me and I knew what was coming.
I shut my eyes and kept running.
The fire ball caught up with me, engulfed me and for the briefest of moments its caress felt fuzzy and pleasantly warm, then the pain stabbed down into me, my skin shrinking over my bones, blistering, and cracking open.
I screamed, and stumbled out into the fort, arms flailing. My mind reduced to nothing but pain and panic.
I ran, blindly, screaming, dying.
Then I was in the air.
Falling.
Chapter 21
I was in a red pulsating void, a distant booming sound tethering me to the world. I was not me, I was no one, just an empty mind floating into the coldness of space.
Boom¡ boom¡ boom
Further and further away into the cold emptiness I was drifting, drifting away, but that booming sound wouldn¡¯t let me go.
Boom¡ boom¡ boom.
A flash of fire, enveloping me, rushing down my lunges. Skin cracking, blood oozing¡ boiling. Like a memory from a distant life.
No. This life¡ I¡¯m thinking. I¡¯m here.
The booming sound, I realized, was the sound of my heart.
I need to get back, now.
¡°Ah-krah-
krah.¡±
I shuddered a breath and opened my eyes. Cloak sat next to my head, pecking at my forehead.
My head.
Oh, by the gods, my
head.
It felt like a split open tooth. My health bar was deep in the red, flashing. My body was cold to the bones and my teeth chattering. I lay at the outer curve of the river, on a small patch of shingle, the icy current tugging at me from the waist down, eager to claim all of me, dragging me back into the cold water to drown me once and for all.
I downed a health potion but my health didn¡¯t crawl up from the red. It was the cold. It was killing me slowly.
I turned on my stomach, tucking my elbows close to my body trying not to retch. My head throbbed hard enough for my vision to fade out at every beat.
Christ¡ I would almost prefer being dead to this.
Inch by inch I crawled out of the water. I downed a stamina potion to give me some extra push, but it went up with a
poof giving me nothing. I was too weak to use it.
After a while I had dragged myself out of the water and downed another health potion. It didn¡¯t do much. Still to cold.
Slowly and with a groan I pulled firewood out of my inventory. It collapsed on the beach like dropped from above. My head was swimming. I was starting to drift away again.
No.
I clamped down with the teeth at the top of my tongue. It had worked at the Gauntlet and it worked now, clearing my head momentarily from fog.
I tried to remember the word for fire. My robe had been burnt to shreds and taken by the river, but I knew the basic spell for fire casting, but the word escaped me.
¡°Atraxes,¡± I mumbled and gestured toward the pile of wood, to snap my fingers wasn¡¯t a possibility.
Nothing happened.
¡°Atlas.¡±
Nothing. I let my head sink down on my arm, closing my eyes. Think, goddammit. And then it came to me:
¡°Atra I mumbled, touching the wood with my fingertips. It started smouldering and then it caught fire. I removed my hand and once again let my head collapse to my arm. I laid there, doing nothing more than breath and listen to the crackle of the growing fire, feeling the warmth on the side of my face. I would live.
Later when I sat huddled up as close to the fire as I dared, I surveyed the damage. I had felt my skin peeling of when I ran out of the fort, but it was all back, probably because I had downed every potion possibly when running up the stairs. The decrease damage potion had saved me and the health potion had kept me alive. I was in a pitiful state, still, but I kept on taking my health potions and was slowly working my health back up.
Then it struck me.
The sword.
The goddamn
sword!
I opened my inventory and stared through it.
¡°No.¡±
I looked over it again, thinking I might¡¯ve missed it, but it wasn¡¯t there.
¡°No, no ¨C
NO!¡±
My scream echoed in the narrow gorge.
I had held the sword in my hand as I was running up the stairs, and I had dropped it. For Tristan Toth to pick up. I clenched my hands and banged them at my forehead in frustration. Of all the idiotic things to do. Why hadn¡¯t I just let it remain in the inventory? Then I would¡¯ve had in my hand right now.
Because you were scared shitless and was in full panic. That¡¯s why. People in full panic are rarely the smartest people in the room.
I collapsed back on the bed of shingles, my arms up as in full defeat, and stared up at the grey sky of dawn.
¡°For anyone listening or watching,¡± I said loud and clear. ¡°That did
not go as planned.¡±
As if they hadn¡¯t figured out that by themselves by now.
Oh crap. I sat back up. In the face of defeat, that¡¯s were greatness grows, or some stupid shit like that, eyh? Back up in the saddle, right?
Right¡
I brought up the scoreboard:
Tristan Toth: 1.275.000
Luke Grayson: 850.000
Nadir Hawa: 725.000
Brad Richards: 275.000
Lance Peters: 25.000
William Walker: 25.000
Everyone seemed to have gone for the fortress except the two last guys on the list, and they were probably scurrying about in the wilderness, right now, scared shitless. I wondered what had happened with the other two guys, Luke and Nadir. They had obviously been at the fortress and done a fair share of killing. Guess they must¡¯ve bailed when they saw Tristan with the sword ¨C and when they saw what he had become. Everyone that had the chance to run seeing that, would. I had.
I looked at the number of remaining players, and it was down to six, those displayed on the scoreboard. Could only be a waiting game now. Tristan wouldn¡¯t find either Walker or Peters until the battle area was down to its bull¡¯s eye, and I was determined he wouldn¡¯t find me either.
It looked grim, I had to admit that. Tristan had the ability to transform to the lord of darkness or whatever and he had my mythical sword to boot. I hadn¡¯t been able to defeat him with
Orak¡¯s Wrath and simple mathematics told me it wouldn¡¯t be easier without it.
But now at least I knew what to expect from Tristan and could plan accordingly.
I would get my sword back.
When the shivers had left my body and the feeling in my feet was back (and the mad itching had subsided) I roasted some meat and ate it with Cloak in silence. I had changed clothes and thrown my wet ones into the inventory. I was dry and warm, but it was like the chill was still residing deep inside me.
I was turning the problem with Tristan back and forth. There had to be a way of defeating him. I looked at the countdown in the display, 28 minutes before my communication lines would open. Maybe Rick or Sarah knew something that could help me?
¡°Krah,¡± Cloak said, nipping a morsel from my pinched fingers.
¡°You did good back there. Did you sense that he was coming?¡±
¡°Krah!¡±
¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡±
We had finished our food when the countdown hit zero.
Incoming communication. From: Rick Solomon Accept Y/N?
Rick Solomon: Wow. That was intense. Are you okay?
Brad Richards: Yes. It was touch and go for a while but I¡¯m at full health again. For how long was I out if it?¡±
Rick Solomon: Close to two hours. You even went down a series of white rapids. Was sure you were dead by then, but the announcement never came. You¡¯re tough as nails, brother.
Brad Richards: Doesn¡¯t feel like it. Can you f**king believe I lost the sword?
Oh, censoring, are we? Blood and gore are okay but not the word fuck?
Rick Solomon: Yeah, I saw that. Too bad.
Brad Richards: S**t, a**, c**p, c*ck, c*nt, f***tard
Rick Solomon: What are you doing?
Brad Richards: Trying stuff. I¡¯m done now. What the h*ll happened to Tristan? You saw that?
Rick Solomon: Yeah. I¡¯ve been talking to people, and I¡¯m allowed to share this with you since it concerns game play mechanics. Tristan used a potion called
Demonization, the most expensive potion in the whole game. One vial of it costs as a seaside apartment in Area 3. He has used it once before in the tournament. He can have a third vile, sure, but in a best-case scenario, he¡¯s out of it now.
Brad Richards: And if he isn¡¯t?¡±
Rick Solomon: There¡¯s a timer one the potion. He can only use it once every 36 hours, and when he drinks it, it last for 5 minutes. So, best bet, hunt him down and kill him in the next 32 hours.
Brad Richards: Yeah. I have no idea even how to get out of this gorge, and no idea where Tristan is. I know you can¡¯t tell me, but right now I need to focus on getting out of this death trap and I¡¯m not looking forward going back into the water.
Rick Solomon: Got it. Go hard at them. All the guys at Anchors are routing for you.
Brad Richards: Thanks.
Rick Solomon: By the way, you looked silly as s**t when you skidded down those stairs on the back of your neck.
Goddammit...
Incoming communication from: Sarah Parsa ¨C Accept Y/N?
Sarah Parsa: I thought you died.
Brad Richards: So did I.
Sarah Parsa: That f***ing Toth clan! That was as close to cheating you can come without actually cheating.
Brad Richards: It is what it is. I live to fight another day.
Sarah Parsa: And are you? Are you going up against that
again?
Brad Richards: You make it sound like I have a choice.
Sarah Parsa: I was about to tell you to be careful, but that would¡¯ve been kind of dumb, I guess.
Brad Richards: Careful isn¡¯t part of the plan, unfortunately. I need to at least make a serious effort of taking down Tristan.
Sarah Parsa: But how?
Brad Richards: Don¡¯t know yet, but I know what to start with.
Sarah Parsa: ?
Brad Richards: I need to get out of the gorge, and when I¡¯m out; I¡¯ll head straight for the centre of the battle area. I don¡¯t know exactly where it will be but I can make a calculated guess. I¡¯ll go there, learn the environments and prepare for him to come.
Sarah Parsa: You don¡¯t want to try and draw him out?
Brad Richards: I prefer not to face him on even terms. I spoke to a friend and he told me about the
Demonization potion. Tristan can¡¯t use it again in 36 hours but I have no idea what other potions he¡¯s got. I¡¯ll face him again, but it¡¯ll be on my terms, not his.
Sarah Parsa: I¡¯m not going to tell you to be careful, but I can wish you all the luck in the world.
Brad Richards: Thanks. Are you down at Jacob¡¯s watching?
Sarah Parsa: No, I¡¯m home watching it from bed. Now that I¡¯ve seen you¡¯re OK, I¡¯ll try to get some sleep.
Brad Richards: Do that.
Sarah Parsa: And Brad?
Brad Richards: Yes?
Sarah Parsa: I wish you were here.
Brad Richards: Believe me I wish that to.
She signed of and I let my gaze linger where her text had been. Then I started to prepare for my departure. I was interrupted by a third incoming communication:
Incoming communication from: Vinger Toth ¨C Accept Y/N?
I looked at the hoovering blue text for the longest while, then I hit
Y.
Vinger Toth: I can feel the stench of fried rat all the way over here to Breaker¡¯s.
Brad Richards:
God morning, Vinger. Good to see you up, nice and early, and in your best mood.
Vinger Toth: You think you were lucky, escaping? You¡¯ve only managed to prolong the pain, fool. F**k I laughed when you were limping away looking like a nail cushion, dribbling blood all over.
Brad Richards: Yeah, I¡¯ve had better experiences. But what doesn¡¯t kill you¡
Vinger Toth: Oh, but he
will kill you. He will only have the pleasure off doing it twice.
Brad Richards: Yeah?
Vinger Toth: Yeah.
Brad Richards: I don¡¯t think so. I think he had his chance and blew it. I think you know that as well, and that¡¯s why I have you shitting all over my feed right now. He¡¯s all bluster when he¡¯s jacked up on hyper potions but his potions will run out and when they do, I bet he¡¯ll prove a coward.
Vinger Toth: You¡¯re in for a surprise, then. He¡¯s a Toth.
Brad Richards: My point exactly. I¡¯ll have him beg for mercy before I¡¯m done with him. I¡¯ll prove to the world what a Toth really is. A coward that will cry and beg.
Vinger Toth: I¡¯ll F***ING KILL YOU MOTHERF***ER!!!
Brad Richards: Get in line, clown.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I signed off, leaving Vinger to rant in silence. That felt oddly good. It didn¡¯t do anything to help me, but then again, if there had been a level for animosity, I¡¯d be at level 100 with Vinger and there was nothing I could do to dial it back. And I didn¡¯t really want to. Hopefully Vinger was ranting with Tristan right now, putting all kinds of pressure on him ¨C defend the family honour, be a true Toth ¨C and all that jazz. Could only work in my favour.
I got up on my feet walking the short patch of shingles, eyeing the rockface on both sides. Water was sloshing and lapping at my feet, and the sound gave me a shudder of imaginary chill. I really didn¡¯t want to go back in there.
The stone in the rockfaces were layered, material of slightly different colour on top of each other in a slanting angle. On of the layers looked softer than the others; it had crumbled, leaving a thin sliver of a ledge that looked big enough for my toes. If I flattened myself against the rock and found grips for my hands, I might just be able to get up from here.
Yeah¡ there weren¡¯t any other options, except jumping back into the river and float downstream, hoping to find a better spot.
Nah, I would just take my chances with the rock right here.
I clenched my teeth and went into the water, sloshed my way to the place where the bottom of the ledge was and clawed myself up, finding grips for my fingers. Then I started moving sideways, slowly moving one foot to the other, inching my way up from the swirling cold water below. I had my head turned to the right, eying the ledge, scraping the side of my face against the rock. If I lost my grip, or if the ledge crumbled, I could get knocked unconscious before hitting the water. This was dangerous. It wasn¡¯t battle to death, fireballs and flying arrows, but it was dangerous, nonetheless.
My fingers ached, my back ached form the unnatural position, my feet trembled, and ached and my calves was as hard as stone. I downed a stamina potion to keep me going. I was only halfway there. If I only had had one of those increase attack speed potions left, that would¡¯ve gotten me up a bit quicker, but I hadn¡¯t. I had plenty of stamina potions, though, but I had noticed that they gave less and less effect when you drank¡¯em down in quick succession. Sweat stung my eyes. The muscles in my back started to cramp up.
Shit.
I stopped climbing, closed my eyes and just tried to balance my weight on the balls of my feet, reliving my back for a moment. Cloak flew in swooping circles above, as if mocking me with the ease he handled vertical movement.
Dumb bird¡
When my calves started trembling and cramp up, I continued. I was completely spent when I could throw my arm over the ledge and grab a tuft of grass.
Moments later I was up rolling over on my back, gasping with closed eyes. There was a muted thud as Cloak landed beside my head, I glimpsed him in the corner of my eye when he came scuttling over.
Bock-bock-bock, when he pecked me on the forehead with his chunky beak.
¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m not dead,¡± I said flapping feebly at him.
¡°Kraaah!¡±
¡°Yeah, I¡¯m with you, brother. R&R is over.¡±
When I said it, I couldn¡¯t help thinking off my bright, nice apartment in Area 9. The Italian coffeemaker in the corner of the kitchen, the bridge that spanned the river outside my window. And then I thought about being beneath the silky sheets in Sarah¡¯s bed, having her warm body next to me. That was proper R&R.
I would get back there, soon enough. I did understand why some stopped playing the game, and just lived in it instead. Was I eager to ever do something like this again? Be set on fire? Be swept down a roaring cold stream, almost drowning, fighting a fuckin demon of the dark? No. One had to be completely out of their mind to enjoy this. I could see the attraction in starting a little cafe down by the waterfront, get the business going, hire some NPCs to run it and then do whatever I wanted with my time.
I got up and started walking, Cloak landing on my shoulder for the free ride.
Yeah, I could tell myself that. I hadn¡¯t become a millionaire in the other world by just sitting idle and having a good time. I had that itch in my body, and it never went away. If there was a mountain to climb, I had to climb it. It was as it had been in Nam. When you were out in the bush, pinned down and Charlie was chattering from the tree line, mortar shells exploding all over the rice pads. You had no wish to be there at all; but as soon as you were back at camp, drinking Bud and having a barbeque, the itch came back. When we loaded up the Huey¡¯s, when Tex manned the M60 at the side door and when we flew out to another mission, it was never fear I¡¯d felt. Some guys did, and I had all the respect for that, but what I felt was anticipation.
Don¡¯t get me wrong.
I¡¯m not one of those twisted fuckers that enjoy killing people. I did nothing of that shit you saw on the TV¡¯s back home, killing babies and burning villages.
No. I don¡¯t like the act of killing but I¡¯m a bit of an adrenalin junkie, admitted and I thrive when circumstances tilt into the extreme, when life¡¯s rev gauge goes into the red. That¡¯s when I feel most alive. And there is no more extreme condition of living than war, when everything is on the line, all the time.
So, yeah, I can grunt in discontent now, but as soon as I¡¯m back in Breaker¡¯s the itch will be back. And, I still want those answers. Who built all this and for what reason.
I was walking downhill, on a path that was well trodden and turned to muck. People moved back and forth here. I reckoned there had to be a village or something close by. The path swerved down into an oak forest. I had my eye on the map while walking. I had marked the spot where the centre of the battle area should be, calculated from the width of the first and second rings of the battle area. It was no exact science, since the outer ring hadn¡¯t been marked on the map but it was close enough for me to at least be the closest one to the centre when the battle area shrunk to the bull¡¯s eye. I needed to go through the forest. It was at least a day¡¯s trek to reach the centre of the battle area and it would be even longer if I tried to walk around the forest. So, into the woods I went.
It was like stepping indoors. The constant wind was shut out, and the shifting light filtering through the leafy canopy above felt like a gentle caress on my senses. There were no patches of snow in here, just crusty old leaves that coloured the ground in shades of brown and yellow.
I followed the path deeper into the woods, thinking suddenly of Hansel and Gretel. Cloak found some raven friends that he sat down on a branch with, having a lively debate. He disappeared sometimes, going out on his own excursions, but he always returned.
I was wondering what Tristan was doing right now, and the other contestants. Were they just out there waiting for the next reduction of the battle area to happen? Or were they also chasing for the centre? I needed to keep my eyes peeled and not get lulled into a sense of safety. And as if my thoughts had the power to control, an announcement came the second after:
Bong!
Contestant number 39, eliminated.
I pulled up the scoreboard. Tristan had jumped another 725.000 points, hitting an even 2 million. He was out hunting, all right, and it looked like had had gotten Nadir Hawa who was now missing from the scoreboard. That was awful news. How many levels had Tristan scored from that haul of XP? I didn¡¯t want to know. Was he over level 20 now? I didn¡¯t want to now. I chose, laugh if you want to, to see this as good news. If he was out hunting for the other contestants, he wasn¡¯t heading for the centre. While I was walking through the woods, the female voice in the sky started talking:
Please enter the new battle area. Fail to do so before the time is up, and you will be eliminated. You are currently, inside the battle area. You are, not in the danger zone.
Great my calculations weren¡¯t completely out of whack. I was walking in the right direction at least. The flashing red outer ring of the existing battle area didn¡¯t show up on my map and I couldn¡¯t see it looking back. Distance had been made.
I reached the village at noon, and it was far bigger than I had expected. Stonewalled pastures appeared and then the path became a dirt road wide enough for two carriages to meet abreast. The road dove down to the village, a huddle of houses with thatched roofs, grey smoke tumbling out of the chimneys.
I let my shoulders drop.
Yes. A table and a chair at the local inn, a bed to sleep in and then I could continue to the centre tomorrow, well rested. That was a well thought out plan if I ever heard one.
Cloak seemed to be anxious when we came closer to the village. He left my shoulder and flew ahead, landing on the wooden roof of the stables. Sidestepping on the ridge looking down at me. There were four horses at the stable, as I could see, but no groom around. I was wondering how much a horse cost? Probably far more than I had in my purse. Another problem; I¡¯ve never been on a horse in my whole life and didn¡¯t exactly have the time to learn how to ride. I had checked my skill trees and haven¡¯t really figured out how skills and abilities was chosen. There was no skill for horseback riding. Either you knew how to do it, or you didn¡¯t, and if you didn¡¯t the game world wasn¡¯t going to help you. But I¡¯d never shot a bow before in my life either, but I could handle it pretty well the first time I picked it up, and after skilling up I could make shots that would make an Olympic archer gasp in envy.
Horseback riding wasn¡¯t on the priority list, but since I planned to spend a lot of time in Windersmyr, I needed to learn how to do it.
I went down the muddy street, lined with houses of stone and wood. A man sitting outside one of the houses was smoking a long-shafted pipe, eyeing me suspiciously. Not to used to strangers in this village, it seemed.
I continued down the street to the inn
The Hog¡¯s Belly. It was a log building in two stories, with a balcony stretching over the front porch, acting as a roof. It brought my mind to those houses one could see in the alps.
I stepped in.
The ceiling was low and the light that spilled in through the undersized windows was bleak. The common room was deserted and smelled of cold ashes. I slammed the door shut to make my presence known.
There was a rustle from the kitchen and a portly fellow, bald with grey moustaches, came hurrying out. He had an apron tightly wrapped around his body. The tag above his head read:
Orust Karol ¨C NPC
¡°Oh! A traveller! How nice! Are you hungry? Of
course you¡¯re hungry! And maybe you need a bed for the night?¡±
¡°You are right on both accounts, dear sir. I¡¯ve been on the road for quite some time and had hoped to find a burning hearth when I got here.¡±
¡°That will soon be arranged.¡±
He hollered over his shoulder and a kitchen boy came running out. The inn-keeper snapped his finger and pointed to the hearth.
¡°Usually, we keep the hearth running all day, but business has been slow lately and no need to keep the hearth burning only for the benefit of the crows, yes? But, now, good sir, sit down and have a rest and I will bring you a hot meal.¡±
¡°What do you have?¡±
¡°Rabbit. Rabbit and cabbage.¡±
¡°And?¡±
He grimaced slightly.
¡°That¡¯s all, I¡¯m afraid. But the rabbit is really good. Vidun does wonder with the local spices and herbes. I¡¯ll guarantee it will be to your taste.¡±
¡°Then I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± I said and sat down. ¡°You can bring me an ale to begin with,¡±
¡°Certainly.¡±
He left to fetch my ale, and to my right the kitchen boy had got some teetering flames going in the hearth. Before the innkeeper was back, he had the flames high and slowly dancing. The warmth of them licked the side of my face, giving me a pleasant shiver. The innkeeper put the foaming tankard down at the table. I know, I should¡¯ve probably been sticking to water, being on high alert and all that, but my unavoidable fight with Tristan was at least one day away, probably more and getting comfy and maybe pleasantly pissed would do more for my fighting vigour than the opposite.
¡°Thank you. Excuse me for asking,¡± I said, holding the innkeeper away from his kitchen. ¡°What is the name of this village?¡±
As it was, he needed not persuasion to be kept out of his kitchen. He was clearly a talker.
¡°Gudjarn, good sir! It means iron of the gods in our northern tongue. On a clear day, if you¡¯re up on the hill outside Roger¡¯s Farm, you can see the Iron Mountains in the distance. One could argue that¡¯s a weak claim for our name like ours but a village caught between nothing but the wind and the wilderness have to claim
something
for itself, yes?¡± He said and laughed, his round stomach jumping.
¡°I guess so. Quite a sizeable village for being out here in the middle of nowhere?¡±
¡°Yeees. But the capitol Brina is two days travel no the northwest, Mortar is four days to the north and we have Heckla five days to the south. People do travel in the Kingdom of Warnheim as well. This isn¡¯t the main road from the south to the north, far from it, we can¡¯t even claim to be the second or the third, but people do travel these roads and when they do, they need a hot meal and a bed to sleep in. May I ask from where you¡¯re traveling?¡±
¡°I¡¯m not really traveling from anywhere. I¡¯m taking part in a contest, of sorts, and need to travel north-east for maybe a day or two. What can I expect out there?¡±
¡°A contest of sorts, that sounds mighty intriguing, but I shan¡¯t ask anything about it. But maybe this contest will bring more customers to my door?¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t hope for it. The contestants are a rapidly diminishing group. Have you seen any other travellers these past days?¡±
He shook his head.
¡°Unfortunately not. But to answer your question. You won¡¯t find much to the northeast. Pine forest and remnants of the old border, before Warnheim was united, crumbling walls and forts and bastions. And witches.¡±
¡°Witches?¡±
¡°Oh yeah, witches. And wind wraiths and trolls, and all sorts of un-godly creatures. The northwest in untamed ¨C savage lands. No one in their right mind would venture out there, alone.¡±
¡°Oh, thanks for letting me know.¡±
¡°Really, good sir, I
strongly advice against going out there alone, if that is what you¡¯re contemplating.¡±
¡°It is, and I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll be facing worse things than trolls and witches out in those woods.¡±
¡°I shall ask no more, only hope that I¡¯ll see you back here on your return trip, and with that I mean I hope there will
be a return trip.¡±
¡°I caught that, yes. Thanks for your concern. Do you have a blacksmith in this village.¡±
¡°But of course we do. Wouldn¡¯t be much of a village without one, would we now? You can find him further down the street, on the right hand.¡±
The kitchen boy brought in my food, a stew made of rabbit, cabbage, potatoes, and carrots. The innkeeper hadn¡¯t used to large words, they stew was magnificent. I slurped it down, my taste buds aching and then I leaned back on the chair, one hand on my stomach, listening to the crackles from the fire. I took in one more ale before paying and arranging for the rent of a room for the night.
Then I went out to find the black smith. He was out, tall and fair haired, his hair in a braid, hammering iron. I unloaded much of the junk loot I collected in the clash this far, greaves and gauntlets and leather harnesses, while looking through his inventory.
One item in there caught my eye, a leather harness with a healing enchantment, regenerating 2% health every second. I¡¯ve been looking for an item like this. Up till now I¡¯d been forced to ration my health potions, not taking one unless my health dipped below 50%, not wanting to waste the effect of it. With his harness, I could just avoid taking damage for a while and regenerate my lost health.
It was set at a price of 2000 silver. I had 3820 to spare, after selling my junk and paying for the room. It was pricey. Really pricey but considering the fight I was walking into; I needed every fraction of an advantage I could get. Tristan, I was sure, would have vastly superior healing gear.
So, I bought it.
My eyes found other, interesting items. I had visited the merchants in Longbourn many times and had realized they had good gear, but only variations of the same sort of gear. Stamina regen gear, enchanted bows, and other good mid-level weapons. Out here in the woods, the selection of items was different. This black smith had enchanted rings, necklaces, and bracers. I was looking them through. There was a wide assortment of rings, most of them geared towards mages, like increasing max mana or mana generation, rings of max destruction and the sorts, but there were some rings that suited my playstyle as well. Like a ring of enhanced melee, giving 17 % extra damage from one-handed attacks, a ring of max stamina, enhancing base stamina by 800 points; a ring of stamina regeneration, which regenerated 4% stamina every second; a ring of max accuracy, increases base accuracy by 200 points. The necklaces and bracelets followed the same principle, of either regenerate abilities or increasing their base values. I checked the information tab, and it looked like I could equip one necklace, two bracelets and two rings. I had already bought a health regen harness, and I wanted a piece of gear that increased the base value of HP as well. To increase my stamina regen was a no brainer; I didn¡¯t know how much a difference 4% regen would do, since I, like all players had my natural stamina regen, but getting back in the fight 4% faster, or to be able to stay in it for 4% longer, that could be the difference between life and death. The accuracy gear, I wanted, but didn¡¯t particularly need right now. If I had had the resources to, I would¡¯ve cleaned out this blacksmiths inventory but unfortunately, I was seriously strapped for credits
I still had the weapons I looted during the clash. I had hoped to sell them at a bigger city where they would fetch a higher price, but I realized I had to let them go.
I sighed and asked what he could give me for the epic sword of burning and the fire bow; I wanted to keep the bow of slow, it had higher base stats and the slow effect was more useful than the burn damage. Same thinking with keeping the frost bow. It dealt chill damage, but the freeze effect also slowed the enemy.
We haggled, back and forth, and had almost the deal done when I saw the obsidian dagger. It was beautiful, and lethal looking. The blade was as long as the palm of my hand, the tip of it slightly jutted. It looked like a sliver of oily flint, with a bluish black sheen to it. It was a nice-looking weapon, but it was the effect that caught my interest. Banish minor dark souls to Umthar.
¡°What is this? What does it do?¡±
As it says, they blacksmith said. ¡°It banishes corrupted souls to the Netherworld. It¡¯s the only way you can kill ethereal beings.¡±
¡°Etherals as in?¡±
¡°Spirits. Wraiths. Ghosts¡±
¡°Ahhh¡¡±
All the nice things the innkeeper had said I would face out in the woods, in other words. The blacksmith, clearly sensing my interest, added:
¡°When I say its effective against all corrupted souls, that includes the undead, demons and even Lecra.¡±
¡°Lecra?¡±
¡°Oh, you don¡¯t know about the Lecra? You really need that knife then. Stories say they¡¯re the fallen gods of the Old World, banished to Umthar by the Celestials before the evil of the first men brought them back to this realm. That knife,¡± he pointed his stubby finger at the dagger in my hand, is the only thing that will send them back.¡±
¡°It says
minor souls in the description. Nothing you¡¯re telling me about the Lecra sounds like minor to me.¡±
The blacksmith gave a crooked smile.
¡°Well, you¡¯re right about that friend, but it¡¯s not the size of the blade that matter when it comes to banishing, it¡¯s the level. That¡¯s a level 2 blade you got there, but this is a blade you can level all the way up to level 100, and then it will send even Derotanan ¨C the dark Overlord ¨C back to Umthar, kicking and screaming.¡±
He used Umthar and Netherworld interchangeably. I guessed Umthar was the northerner¡¯s version of hell, then.
¡°That you say?¡±
¡°That I say, because it is the truth. Mark my words.¡±
¡°What I say is that you seem way to skilled a salesman to be a blacksmith.¡±
He grinned.
¡°Well, the merchant packed up and left years ago. We all need to put food on the table for the family.¡±
¡°I bet you was the one that put him out of business.¡±
The blacksmith laughed.
¡°Maybe you might just be right about that. So, you¡¯re interested in the dagger, yes?¡±
¡°Yes, but not at this price. You need to come down, a lot.¡±
¡°No can do there, sir. This is a very exclusive item.¡±
¡°An exclusive item that will sit in your inventory for years. Can¡¯t imagine that there¡¯s to many travellers showing a keen interest in such a specific item.¡±
¡°Oh! You would be ah-
mazed, my friend!¡±
And so, we went at it until he had gotten all my weapons except the sword of chills and the bow of slow, all my magical robes and half of my stamina potions. In return I got the health regen harness, a ring of stamina regen and the Obsidian Dagger. I¡¯m sure he ripped me off and would laugh when the told the family at the dinner table this night, but beggars can¡¯t be choosers and I would feel a lot safer venturing out into the savage lands with this dagger in my belt.
When I came up to my room, the fire was lit and there was a stockpile of firewood that would last me the night. The bed was by the wall, and the nightstand beneath the semicircular window. I walked up to it, looked out on the dark street and the lights spilling out from the houses on the other side. I pulled the curtains shut and sat down in the bed, leaning against the wall.
I pulled out the dagger from my inventory and looked it over again. When angled towards the light of the burning fire, it gave away a kind of purple pulse. That was some kind of contained magic, powerful stuff, according to the blacksmith. The blade held four charges, which meant I could banish four minor souls. If I came up against anything stronger, I could just as well stab away with an iron dagger, the effect would be the same. The blade could be recharged by a skilled enchanter, but at an insane cost. I needed to be very conservative with how I used this weapon, I¡¯ve poured most of my hard-earned silver into it and I needed to get my silver¡¯s worth.
I tucked the dagger back into the inventory, placing it in one of my quick slots.
Next I brought up the map. If there was one thing I¡¯d hoped to get my hands on her in Gudjarn, it was a physical map, drawn by people with detailed knowledge of the surroundings. Maybe if the merchant had still been in business, he could¡¯ve provided, but most likely not. These people, from what I¡¯ve learned didn¡¯t use maps. Everything was like ¡°Follow the stream south until you reach Padrig¡¯s Oak. You¡¯ll recognize from the splintered branch, lighting struck it one generation ago and that¡¯s why it tilts so badly, there you go east heading having your nose pointedly at the second peak of the iron mountains, the first with snow on top.¡± Yeah, and so it went on. I needed to see where that old wall was, where the defensive structures were, which terrain was possible to traverse. My map showed nothing of the sorts, no rivers, no altitude curves, nothing except a greyish blue space, void of anything. My hunch, though, was that the Game Control hadn¡¯t just thrown out the battle area on a whim; they wanted and exciting arena for the final fight, and if I found it, I would know it. The risk was that I dove straight into the woods, was ambushed by wraiths, witches and Lecra, while being cut of from the centre of the battle area by a gorge, a wild river or what have you. But I couldn¡¯t see another option that to venture out into the unknown, hoping for the best.
I looked at the yellow marker I¡¯d placed on the map. I had done my calculations over and over, and always ended up at the same place. If the centre wasn¡¯t at my marker, it would be close.
I kicked off my boots and pulled the blanket over me. Seconds later, I was pulled down in a heavy, deep sleep.
Daybreak. I shut the door to the
Hog¡¯s Belly behind me and walked out of the village, Cloaks swooping down, landing on my shoulder. Then I went northeast, into the bush.
Into the savage lands.
Chapter 22
Oh, fuck.
There was that giggling sound behind me again, and this time I was sure I didn¡¯t imagine it. I whipped around, staring into the darkness. It was too dark to see but I thought I saw movement out there, wisplike shapes floating between the trees. I¡¯ve been stumbling closer and closer to my yellow marker during the day, making good progress, but all thoughts about the yellow marker had been thrown out the window after the sun set. I knew I had to stop for the night, set up camp but it was like I was urged forward, as if every part of these dark lands was unfriendly, hostile even. And I had walked and walked in some unverbalized hope of finding a place where the overwhelming feeling wasn¡¯t that I would die and be torn to pieces if I stopped even for a second. I had to muster all my restraint not to start running blindly into the woods. And that was then I had heard that giggling behind me, as close as if a person had walked a couple of steps behind me, the light airy giggle of a young girl. I had looked over my shoulder, seen nothing and with my heart hammering, continued. And then I had heard it again. And when I turned, it was like an aggressive chill of wind blew past my head.
Now, I blinked and stared into the darkness, my mouth completely dry and my heart running amok. I was losing my battle with my nerves. If I only could wish myself out of this goddamn forest.
I gasped.
There were shapes out there, slowly coming at me,
floating at me. I heard a slow whisper of a laugh, not
a laugh ¨C
laughs! ¨C because suddenly they were all around me.
Oh, crap.
Give me an enemy I can see. An enemy I can
fight. Were these enemies really here, or just in my head?
Even Cloak had deserted me.
Another one of those cold gusts blew past me.
I turned and ran.
The lingonberry shrubberies brushed at my feet; the pine branches whipped at my face. I had my arms up and ran, blind with fear. I ran until I ran out of steam, and that was by a small stream of water, at the foot of a rocky slope. Moonlight had broken through the black clouds and the water swirled in shades of silver.
I looked back into the woods.
No wind spirits, or wraiths behind me. Didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t there, though. Spirits and wraiths, if the horror movies were something to go by, wasn¡¯t something you just outran.
It turned out I was right about that. I saw something in the woods. Could¡¯ve just been a trick of the lunar light spilling between the trees, but the hair at the back of my neck rose. I saw the shapes clearly now. They looked like uncooked shrimps, maybe three feet tall, translucent with spectral arms that ended in claws. They came floating between the trees, maybe ten of them. I had four charges in my knife.
I couldn¡¯t kill them. I couldn¡¯t outrun them.
What could I do?
Then the wraiths stopped, they hung where they were gently bobbing up and down. I looked between them; eyes wide with fear. What was happening?
Then, the wraiths withdrew. I saw a larger shape, deeper in the woods, emanating a soft light. There was something with that light that washed the fear out of my body. All jagged edges became instantly smooth.
It was a shape of a women. She was naked, her long golden hair covering her breasts. She walked towards me, unhurriedly carrying a crooked staff taller than her. She smiled at me and the last of the tension released the grip of my body. I had turned to warm water, and I couldn¡¯t feel my body anymore.
I smiled back at her.
She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, her smile a mystery concealing both the moon and the sun, her eyes a radiant silver. She moved like water, gently flowing. I couldn¡¯t wait for her, but my body was numb and gone so I couldn¡¯t go to her. She parted her lips.
Something pierced through.
There was something moving in here mouth, something black and shiny.
She smiled again and I saw the error of my ways. She wasn¡¯t to be distrusted. She was to be admired, devoted and her smile washed my mind from unclean thoughts. She was perfection.
¡°Kraah!¡±
NO! CLOAK! DON¡¯T TOUCH HER!
Cloak dove into the spectral beauty, tussling her golden hair before taking off again. She swinged her staff at him, her face an angry snarl, her silver eyes bleeding over into black.
¡°Kraah! Kraah!¡±
Cloak was behind me now, on the other side of the stream, his crowing eager and insistent. I dared a look over my shoulder, he was bouncing left and right,
kraahing
his head off.
I looked forward again. The spectral woman still came at me, a sombre smile and pleasant eyes, but I stared at her mouth.
Her cheeks suddenly bulged. A glittering dark mandible popped out of her mouth, and then another from the other side.
Oh, hell no.
Her face split up and peeled back to reveal a contorted demonic face, eyes burning a furious red. The rest of her golden attire fell to the ground as a used-up costume and revealed a sinewy body that looked like it was lacquered black, the body of some kind of insect, fingers long and sharp as knives.
I had seen enough.
I turned and sloshed over the stream, anticipating the stabbing pain when she bore down on me with those clawlike hands.
I stumbled up on the other side, whipping around.
She, I still thought of her as a
she, stood on the other side of the stream, hunkered down, arms out from her sides, wiggling her long fingers as if getting ready to make the jump and run me through.
¡°Kraahh!¡± Cloak said and jumped up on my shoulder, as if to mock the creature; and that was when I realized, it couldn¡¯t follow me across the stream.
I stuttered half a laugh, that was part relief and part incredulity.
Cloak had known. These were his lands. I was a stranger here, he was not. The stream marked a border. I had no idea what horrors awaited me on this side of the stream, but it couldn¡¯t be worse than the thing staring at me from the other side of the stream. I looked at it and hit examine:
Dark Redana level 54Stolen story; please report.
Even though not either demon nor lecra, the Dark Redana is considered the Queen of the Corrupted. She shares similar traits with the more common Siren but instead of snaring the hearts of men, she rips it out. The Dark Redana secrets a scent that draw other corrupted to her, bending them to her will. The hormonal glands of the Dark Redana are one of the most sought-after ingredients in advanced alchemy and sell at a premium.
Ah, is that so? Call me a jerk. Call me a coward but that bitch was out to kill me and now she paces back and forth like an angry dog, unable to get to me. Premium price, eyh? I¡¯m not letting this go to waste.
I pulled my bow of slow out of the inventory and nocked a steel arrow. This was the highest-level mob I¡¯ve encountered and I had no idea what it would take to bring it down. I pulled the string and fired the arrow at the side of her head. It hit the Redana¡¯s temple with a loud smack, making her shriek and stumble. She clawed furiously at the air. The woods on her side of the stream were suddenly teeming with the prawns, jerking back and forth, not knowing what to do. My display confirmed my initial suspicion. They were wind wraiths, ranging between level 12 and 20.
It took three arrows to take down the Redana. When she toppled face first into the stream I was awarded with 7.000 XP, moving my progress bar noticeable to the right, and an achievement that gave me 1000 silver. Nice.
I had my eyes locked on the wraiths as I waded out in the stream. One of the Redana¡¯s grotesquely oversized hands was stretched out, like she was climbing a horizontal wall. The wraiths continued zipping from side to side, but some of them darted forward, as if to attack me.
I grabbed the cold hand of the Redana; it was like grabbing a glove of hard polished wood, and pulled her corpse to my side of the stream.
Now, what to do with it?
Should I¡ dismember it, trying to find the glands?
No, I hadn¡¯t even been able to cut that frog open in biology class. Dismembering things wasn¡¯t in my repertoire. Besides, I wouldn¡¯t be able to tell a gland from a tonsil.
I looked at the corpse and got an idea.
I grabbed it by the waist and lifted it a couple of feet, Christ she was a weighty lady, and then just thought about my inventory.
She vanished from my hands, the air making a popping sound as it rushed in to fill the vacuum she left.
I looked into the inventory and laughed. I had five new items in there. Skull of Dark Redana x1; Bones of Dark Redana x 24; claws of Dark Redana x10; skin of Dark Redana x1; Glands of Dark Redana x4.
The prawns zipped back and forth on the other side of the stream, seeming agitated at me disrespecting the corpse of their dark queen.
I needed to get out of here. Needed to keep going northeast, and that meant I needed to get up on the hill that stretched along the stream. I just hoped it wouldn¡¯t turn into a mountain.
When I was halfway up the hill, I saw the first remnants of and old wall. I was at the old border, the one that had been before Warnheim was united. I guessed it would be a very wise idea to not step over to the other side of that crumbling wall. I would¡¯ve guessed that the reason the Redana and the wraiths hadn¡¯t been able to follow over the stream had less to do with the stream itself than the fact that it seemed to be part of a forgotten border between two ancient kingdoms.
When I reached the top of the sloping hill, dawn finally broke. In the grey light of the new day, I saw the forests stretching out in all direction, going from a deep ember green, to grey to a faint blue in the far distance. I also saw the remains of a tall structure to the northeast, where the pine forest turned from grey to blue. It corresponded roughly with the marker on my map.
¡°What do you think about that, Cloak? That must be it, don¡¯t you think?¡± I said, grinning.
¡°Kraah!¡± Cloak said, ever supportive, and flapped his wings, brushing the side of my face with his feathers.
I needed to push on but the nights ordeals had taken their toll. I needed to eat and catch some sleep before I continued. I would never, ever, be able to sleep in these woods after dark fall, so if I wanted some shut eye, I needed to grab it now.
I roasted some meat and carrots for breakfast. I think Cloak wolfed down his portion faster than I did mine. Then I folded my blanket to a pillow and laid down on the white moss, close to the fire.
¡°Keep an eye up, will you? Wake me up if you must.¡±
¡°Kraaah!¡±
¡°That¡¯s a good boy.¡±
I woke with a pain in my neck and the taste of copper in my mouth. The sun stood high on the sky and the fire was out. Cloak came swooping down from a pine tree and landed in the soft moss kraaahing.
¡°I know, I know. No rest for the wicked.¡±
I rubbed my face and got up, and without further ado, I trekked on.
By midday I was down the slope, on the other side of it, and was working myself through the thick woods, thinking about bears, wolves, and armoured grizzles. They were bound to be here but with some luck they had easier prey to hunt.
Please enter the new battle area. Fail to do so before the time is up, and you will be eliminated. You are currently, inside the battle area. You are, not in the danger zone.
I looked over my shoulder, no sign of the red glow. I was deep inside the new battle area. I tried to calculate how much time had passed since the last reduction and I got the feeling that the game makers were hurrying things up; bad for ratings having people stumbling around in the woods without much happening.
I wasn¡¯t complaining. The sun was still high in the sky but soon it would begin its downward trajectory, setting the bluish horizon on fire. When darkness fell, the horrors of the night would come with it.
Some moments later:
Bong!
Contestant number 38, eliminated.
Nadir had bitten the dust. Tristan had jumped another xxx in points. I trudged on. I couldn¡¯t see the spire of the crumbled building when in the deep woods, but I had a feeling that Cloak was directing me. He would flap of my shoulder, do a sweep above before landing in a pine tree further away, kraahing at me. I walked towards that tree every time he did it, putting all my faith into this black bid of the wild. He had saved my bacon twice when the Dark Redana showed up, and he had signalled to me ¨C even if I had been to dumb to understand it ¨C that Tristan had been approaching when we were down in the abandon fortress. I would continue to trust this bird; it wasn¡¯t as if I had any choice.
Bong!
Contestant number 40, eliminated.
I pulled up the scoreboard just to get confirmation of what I already knew. Luke Grayson was out of it, and Tristan jumped another 850.000 points.
Remaining contestants:
4
The sun burned between the pine trees in a deep orange. Dusk was in full swing, and darkness would fall within the hour. I pawed at my hip, making sure my obsidian dagger was still there.
Then, I popped out of the woods into a large, circular clearing that was paved with stones, weeds growing in the cracks. The tall, broken structure in front of me was odd looking. The first three floors looked like a squat castle with heavy fortifications, the right side of the wall collapsed as the front tower that seemed to have taken a direct hit and had crumpled but not fallen; it sagged precariously and looked like it could slide right of its broken base any time. But, from inside the castle, a tall conical pillar rose, at least six stories high, like the needle int the world¡¯s largest sundial. Maybe it was, I thought, looking at the circular paving. Some sort of religious building, for sure, left to oblivion. The name indicated on the map was The Ruin of Castle Rohina.
I walked up to the main gate, a heavy looking arc of a yellowish kind of stone.
While I did, I got another notification of a player biting the dust. One of the cautious ones, and Tristan had earned another 25.000 points. It didn¡¯t matter how many points he got. Didn¡¯t matter if he was level 21 or 22 when he showed up. If I was to win this fight, I couldn¡¯t be expected to fight fair, and I had no intention to.
Through the gatehouse I saw a circular inner baily with the pillar at its centre, a row of stables in the long swerving wall. To the right in the gatehouse there was a narrow flight of stairs, the black steps ascending into darkness. I went up them and came up in a naked stone room with holes in the floor. Ah, murder holes. I knew about them. When the enemy tried to pass through the gate house, the defenders stood up here and fired down upon them or poured boiling oil over them.
Nifty.
From both sides of the room other stairs led up to the second floor. I went up the right set of stairs and came out on the battlements, a cold breeze ruffling my hair. The crenelated battlements ran around the inner baily with guard towers at 12, 9, 6 and 3 o¡¯clock. Or at least I guessed it had been a guard tower at 9 o¡¯clock, but the collapsed wall at that section made it hard to tell for sure. It wasn¡¯t a big fort. It had been built solely to protect the spire. Was it magic or was it marking a magic place? I had no clue but obviously the magic has dried up since the place was long abandoned.
Please enter the new battle area. Fail to do so before the time is up, and you will be eliminated. You are currently ¨C inside the battle area. You are ¨C not in the danger zone.
What?
Again? The Game Control was definitely herding Tristan towards me. But that was okay. I had the outline of a plan, and when darkness fell, I preferred not to wait any longer than I had to.
Then, the most anticipated announcement of the evening came:
Bong!
Contestant number 32, eliminated.
I chuckled, not because I found the demise of William Walker funny, but of the merry thought that the player hiding behind number 32 could be Tristan, creating a historical anticlimax. One lucky shot was all it took, but poor William Walker hadn¡¯t had that luck. Tristan had gained another 25.000 points and now it was just me and him left in the tournament.
Well, fuck you, William Walker. I just had to do it myself, then.
Chapter 23
I had lost track of time, but it must¡¯ve been hours since darkness fell. Cloak had flown away to do bird stuff and I sat leaning against the back wall of the stone room above the gate house, looking through a crack in the wall at the paved area. I was cutting slices of grilled meat with my obsidian dagger, popping it in my mouth, chewing slowly. I was fearing to hear those ghostly giggles in the dark and see the translucent prawns float through my sturdy stone walls.
I
had seen them, though.
They were out there, wisping this way and that, but if I sat still, it seemed they weren¡¯t able to spot me.
So, I sat still, chewed my meat in silence, and stared through the crack.
By now Tristan must¡¯ve understood what was happening as well; it was only me and him left, and he wanted to get to this place before I did. I only hoped he didn¡¯t realize I¡¯ve been here for hours already. I did hope, though, that he had been running here in a mad frenzy, burning through all his stamina potions, arriving sweaty and depleted. One could hope, right? And I hoped that Vinger saw this, now sitting screaming at his screen that it was a trap.
Scream on buddy, this one is going to hurt.
Or at least I hoped it would. For as for as plans went, this wasn¡¯t a solid ten out of a ten ¨C more like a shaky three. There weren¡¯t that many moving parts in it, it was bare bone, down to the ground simple, but there was still a crap ton of things that could go wrong.
And if it went wrong, I was as good as dead.
The moon had moved in front of one of the narrow slits, and it peeked in at me with a curious glance. My head was buzzing and my eyelids were heavy. I had been on high alert for more than 24 hours and it started to take its toll. If I fell asleep, all would be wasted.
Mustn¡¯t¡ fall¡
a-sleep.
¡°Kraah!¡± it echoed from the woods. I snapped my eyelids open and scrambled up to a seated position. I stared through the crack and I stared right at Tristan.
He sat in a crouch by the bushes just outside the paved stone circle, surveying the area.
Thanks Cloak. I owe you another one.
Slowly I rose, careful not to make any sounds, staring through the darkness at Tristan. He was level 21 now.
Move.
Tristan did. Still in a crouch, he hurried over the paved area towards the gatehouse. I needed to act fast. From the inventory I equipped a pair of worn-out leather gloves. In my one hand I grabbed the potion of
Become Etheral and in the other, the blackish red glands of the Dark Redana; they felt like I imagined bull testicles would feel.
I looked down the murder holes and saw the top of Tristan¡¯s blonde head floated into view.
I drank down the potion.
It felt like the stone floor just gave away. It rushed past my face like a flicker of darkness. I thudded down right behind Tristan, my level 11 strength legs cushioning the landing. With the glands of the Redana in my hand I pushed him in the back as hard as I could, crushing and smearing the hormonal glands all over his green, fancy cloak. He stumbled forward, arms flailing for balance, his armour of silver steel rattling and clattering. I ran back up the stairs to the stone room, peeling of the soiled gloves and put them back into the inventory where their smell couldn¡¯t spread.
¡°You! Come face me you coward!¡± Tristan bellowed from below.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I whipped around, the bow of slow in my hand, one of the arrows laced with the paralyze poison nocked. I heard Tristan before I saw him, he came rattling and jingling up the stairs. I fired as soon as he popped out his head. He jerked his head back and the arrow hir the wall.
He was fast.
Too fast for my liking.
I shot a glance through the window slits. My skin prickled. They were coming, the prawns, silently bobbing out from the woods.
¡°You just gonna stand up there with your silly little bow? You¡¯ll only prolong the inevitable.¡±
¡°Yeah, maybe I should just throw myself upon your sword and we can both go home and have a decent meal and a drink, right?¡±
¡°Sounds all right to me.¡±
I heard from his voice that he was gearing up. I knew what would come next. Tristan roared and shoulder around the corner, the radiant
Orak¡¯s Wrath
raised. Pumped up with adrenaline he bulled up towards me.
I fired.
The arrow hit his shoulder pauldron and pinged off to the right.
Fuck.
I turned and ran up the left flight of stairs, up to the battlements. Behind me I heard the eager jingle and rattling from Tristan¡¯s armour. He didn¡¯t gain on me, despite my low speed. That told me an important thing. I¡¯ve seen his snakelike speed when stationary. He had invested a lot of skill points into speed, but not enough into strength to make use of them while wearing his heavy armour. He relied on expensive increase strength boosts instead.
I spun around on the battlement, bow at the ready and fired at him as soon as he became visible in the door opening. He swatted the steel arrow away with his blade. The arrow turned to red molten slosh when it hit his blade.
I didn¡¯t like the look of this.
I glanced down to the overgrown courtyard below, a drop of some 20 feet. It was time to test my theory. Tristan approached slowly an eager grin on his lips, slowly swinging Orak¡¯s Wrath from side to side.
¡°You can keep on running, little piggy, but I¡¯m the big bad wolf and there¡¯s no escaping me. Ho, ho,
hooo!¡± His impression of a huffing and puffing wolf dissolved into laughter. ¡°I¡¯m going to slice you and dice you, starting from your feet, working myself up. It¡¯ll take some time because this blade, you see, burns the wounds shut at the same as it slices. A most sinister tandem of effects.
Cauterizes I think the scientific term of it is.¡±
You just keep on talking. The longer this takes, the better.
Behind Tristan, over the slanted roof of the tower I saw the prawns coming, silently bobbing, attracted by the glandular scent of the Dark Redana. One of them broke free from the darkness inside the guardhouse and was soon close enough to do that darting attack.
¡°Cauterizes you say. Didn¡¯t think a meathead like you knew such fancy words.¡±
His grinning face went slack. For an intelligent person to be regarded as a dumb one, that was an effective button to push.
¡°Oh, I know a lot more fancy words than that, like decapitate. Dismember. Eviscerate. Do you know what those words mean? I¡¯m a Harvard graduate. What the fuck are you? A plumber? A car sales man?¡±
¡°Nah. I do proper work. Construction.¡±
¡°Ahh, I can see that,¡± he said, relaxing his posture, lowering the sword as if he had nothing to fear from a person like me.¡± One step above being a common grease monkey, I guess. I salute you for your prowess and your success.¡±
The prawn that had emerged from the darkness of the watch tower darted at him, needle-like translucent fangs protruding from its wide-open mouth. It bit Tristan in the back of the neck.
He yelled, swatting at his neck as if trying to kill a mosquito. The next one bit into his hand. The scream became a howl. He tried to flap his hand, but the prawn pulled the other way and blood squirted in the air.
More of them was coming.
With a roar Tristan swung his sword and cut the prawn biting his hand in two. With a snarl he pulled the other one, biting his neck of, pulling with it pieces of his flesh.
He lit up in a golden glow, downing a health potion, staring at me with confused rage. At least seven more prawns were about to descend on him.
I jumped of the wall.
The ground came rushing up at me: I hit it with teeth shattering force. Pain lanced up through my legs, but they held firm. I whipped out my bow, nocked one of the poisons laced arrows.
This was it.
What the plan in its totality boiled down to.
Get Tristan distracted by the prawns and then paralyze him.
Up on the wall Tristan was attacked by more prawns. He flapped and sliced, his green cloak billowing around him. The prawns were fast and they were many. One of them got a chunk of his cheek and while he was pulling it off, another one sank its teeth into his thigh.
I fired the arrow.
It whizzed past him.
With trembling hands, I nocked another one. I had dipped three more arrows in the paralyze poison. I had four shots left.
At this angle, I had a hard time getting a clear shot away. I mostly saw his green cloak flap and billow in the wind, and the prawns darting in from all angles.
I let the arrow fly.
It zipped through his cloak and went out the other side.
Fuck¡
I nocked the third arrow. Tristan blossomed in gold again, and then, in panic he jumped of the wall.
His heavy suit brought him down like a stone. He slammed into the ground.
I let the arrow go before he had sorted himself. It hit him in the side of the neck. The arrow shot clean through, blood squirting out over the cobblestone.
¡°Gah!¡± Tristan said, palming the wound, looking at me from the corner of his eye. Stolen novel; please report.
I lunged at him, my sword over my head. Tristan bloomed in a crimson red and, streaks of oily black. While I still was in the air, his eyes turned black and a vicious grin cleaved his pale white face.
Oh, fuck.
He grabbed me by the arm, his demonic strength out of this world, and flung me across the courtyard. I spun in the air, hit the ground and the world tumbled around me, white sparks exploding in my vision.
My health plummeted down into the red.
I downed a health potion and got up on wobbly legs, not even knowing which way to face.
¡°Over here,
boy!¡± Tristan roared with that deep, rumbling voice of his demonic version.
I turned, or staggered around was a more befitting description, my heart pounding and blood running down my face. Som of my ribs must¡¯ve been broken; I could only breath in shallow gasps and even those was like having a rabid animal inside, clawing and tearing. Tristan walked slowly over the courtyard, lazily swinging
Orak¡¯s Wrath. The red shine of the sword had taken a deep, sinister glow, Tristans steel armour had turned into a solid black, plate armour, where red energy seeped through the cracks; his shoulder pauldrons jagged and twisted.
¡°It ends here,¡± He rumbled whipping his sword as if it weighed less than a willow twig.
The countdown in my HUD reached zero and I drank down a large potion of restore health. My health shot back up into the green, the tearing pain in my side vanished and I darted for the gatehouse.
¡°Face me! Weakling!¡± Demonic Tristan roared and I actually felt the ground shake from his voice.
Fat chance. I had less than five minutes to survive before I could make an even fight out of this, or how even it could be between a level 16 and a level 21, but I knew things now that I didn¡¯t before, like that I had a lot more points into raw strength than Tristan. That was my sole advantage, I was stronger and I needed to find a way to unleash the brawler on him.
To do that, I first needed to survive.
A piece of slender black glass whizzed past me on the right side and shattered against the wall of the gatehouse.
Oh, this again.
I did my zig, and zig-routine and reached the stairs in the gatehouse unimpaled. I tore up the stairs, hoping Tristan would continue his Jason Vorhees impression, walking like slow unavoidable death. I shot a glance out through the window slit. The woods were swarming with prawns.
Oh, fuck. My plan seemed to work a little too good. If I, against all odds, defeated Tristan, it was only a matter of time before those floating critters started to attack me instead of him.
Down at the foot of the stairs I heard Tristans infuriated demonic grunts, the chittering sounds of the prawns as they attacked, and the sound of
Orak¡¯s Wrath being swung. Tristan¡¯s armour might ¡®ve changed looks and properties, but clearly the glandular secrete was still on his cloak. Awesome. The first bit of good news I¡¯ve gotten during this uneven fight.
One of the prawns darted right through the wall and snapped at me. I stumbled back and got my obsidian dagger up. Four charges, that was all I had. Its translucent mandibles shivered when it made that awful chittering noise. Then it darted for me. I stabbed it and it went from translucent jelly to ice in an instant. It shattered and fell to the stone floor as shards of ice.
I needed to get away from the stone room. Obviously, being this near to Tristan made me a target for the prawns as well.
I continued up the second flight of stairs and was once again up on the battlements. Tristan was still by the entrance to the gatehouse. He was completely swarmed by prawns. He swept his sword back and forth in powerful arcs, but it was almost as if the death of one prawn called more of them into action. I could only hope his battle frenzy went so deep that he forgot all about me for the coming four or so minutes.
That didn¡¯t happen, of course.
He killed of the prawns faster than the dark woods could birth them and soon, he stood in piles of their translucent carcases. He turned his head, looking up at me on the battlements. His eyes were no longer black but a blazing, furious red, as if the inside of his head had turned into a furnace. His grin had nothing happy to it, no playful anticipation ¨C it was naked raw rage, and with a howl he set up the stairs.
My hands shook when I pulled out the bow and nocked an arrow. I didn¡¯t even know if this thing could be killed with arrows. He had overridden the effects of the paralyze poison when he turned into the dark one, but maybe it was the transformation itself that had washed the poison effect away? Didn¡¯t know if it mattered much. Shooting arrows on this dark demon lord felt like flicking toothpicks on a charging rhino, but I was out of ideas. Ordinary Tristan had been slow in his armour of silver steel, but demonic Tristan moved with whirlwind speed, as if a storm surge from the Netherworld hurled him forward. I couldn¡¯t outrun this being, I couldn¡¯t outmuscle it and I had failed to outsmart it.
Then, in the corner of my eye, I saw something through the gatehouse that could change everything.
Yes. Now we¡¯re fucking talking.
I wetted my lips and starred at the door opening in front of me. Demonic Tristan wrestled of the darkness and came running at me. Dead silent, his flaming red eyes locked in on me as if he was a heatseeking missile.
I jumped of the wall, down into the courtyard. Once again, my legs exploded in pain and this time I couldn¡¯t help collapsing into a hurting pile.
There was no time to lose, no time at all. I drank down a health potion and rolled over trying to get off the ground. Slowly, with the help of the wall, I got to my feet.
Tristan thumped down in front of me, a gust of displaced air whipping in my sweaty hair from my face. He towered before me, his white face a mask of contorted rage. He was still the heatseeking missile, locked in on me, so he never saw the Dark Redana that came streaking across the courtyard in a forward leaning stride, one of the large, lacquered claw hands behind her racing body, ready to strike.
¡°Done running, boy?¡± Tristan rumbled, staring at me, as if urging me to run. ¡°What? No snappy remarks?¡±
The Redana hurled herself at Tristan with a powerful slash.
I rolled out of the way.
It looked like Tristan folded in the middle, a black spray of blood fanning out. The two of them tumbled in the air and hit ground, rolling over. The Redana ended up on top, savagely slashing at Tristan face while shrieking in something that sounded like fury. Tristan screamed as well, clawing at the Redana that was shredding his face. I stumbled backwards, struck in awe by the display of pure ferociousness of the Redana. I was wondering why Tristan wasn¡¯t swirling with light, downing every potion he had in his inventory, but remembered what Rick had told me: when engaged in hand to hand combat, you had to physically pull gear and potions out of your inventory to use them, to prevent fights being decided only by whom had the more potions.
Then, when all seemed lost for Tristan, his scream deepened to a growl and one of the black metal gloves shot up and grabbed the Redana by the throat. His initial panic had subsided and he had adapted to the new situation. I pulled out my bow and nocked one of the paralyze poison arrows.
The Redana shrieked and wriggled, slashed and clawed but Tristan rose, holding her at arm¡¯s length. His white face was torn to pieces, flaps of it hanging revealing the glistening bone beneath. His right cheek was missing, showing the grin of his jawbone.
He pulled back his fist and lifted the Redana from the ground. Then he struck her in the face. Her head exploded, jitters shaking her body.
With a roar Tristan slammed her body to the ground, rage again overtaking him. He slammed his fist to the Redana¡¯s chest, making it crack, and he kept on pounding.
I circled him at a safe distance, my bow at the ready. How much time had passed since he drank down the
Demonization potion? It felt like hours.
My mind hurtled.
Had Rick said that the potion worked for five minutes, or
fifteen? I had been sure it was five, but now, I wasn¡¯t as certain anymore. Surely more than five minutes must¡¯ve passed.
With one last punch, he turned the ribcage of the Redana to mush. He panted sitting with one knee at the ground.
Sit there a while longer, asshole. Contemplate your victory. Rejoice in it, you fucking bastard. My heart was hammering, sweat stinging my eyes.
Tristan slowly rose, a swirl around him as he finally downed a health potion.
He turned to face me. I let the arrow go. He lazily caught in his mailed hand, and snapped it in two.
He had asked me if I was done running, and it seemed the answer was no.
I darted back towards the gatehouse.
¡°This is getting tiresome,¡± I heard Tristan rumble behind me, sounding bored to the bone.
Then I heard him coming after me, his armour rattling and ¡
rattling?
I stopped running and turned around. The black swirls rose above him and disappeared. Once more he was in his to heavy armour, his face that of a pissed of twenty-year-old.
I pulled my sword and started running at him.
His eyes went wide. He hadn¡¯t anticipated this. He swung
Orak¡¯s Wrath. I ducked and came up right in his face striking him over the cheek bone with my elbow. He grunted and stumbled back. I gave him no time to recuperate. I punched him as hard as I could over the nose. It snapped and blood gushed. He stumbled a couple of more steps. His eyes wide open with pain and confusion. He tried to swing his sword (my sword!) but I was once again right in his face. I grabbed the wrist of his sword arm and locked it. He tried to pull his dagger, but I locked that arm as well.
Then I swept his feet.
He fell backwards with a rattle and an explosive exhale. The sword clattered out of his hand. I was still upon him, like an unrelenting crab. Forehead against forehead we snarled into each other¡¯s faces, grappling and butting heads.
I was back in that fucking trench up on Hill 243, Charlie beneath me, way too strong for a Charlie his size. They were all Charlies back then. The rice hat had come of his head and I had him pinned down with my forearm over his throat. Explosions sent showers of dirt over us. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and burnt-out gun powder, the shadows long and bobbing in the heavy light of the burning woods. I¡¯d told me I would never do the black work again, but here I was, doing it.
I got Tristan in a headlock, my forearm pressing down on his throat. I stared into his eyes, that¡¯s the only curtesy you can give a man when you kill him.
It¡¯s hard work choking a man to death. It¡¯s not like in the movies when you put a pillow over someone face and they start flapping their arms just to still within the minute.
No, it¡¯s hard work, I¡¯ll tell you.
Tristan tried to wriggle, squirm to get my crushing weight of him, but to no avail. I don¡¯t know for sure, but in a fight to the death in unarmed combat, I think a 32-year-old former recon marine has the edge on a 20-year-old ivy league frat boy.
I leaned in closer.
¡°Do not come back here. Hear me?¡±
Tristan squawked. His eyes turning bulgy and glassy. His clawing at me became a pawing.
¡°Do
not come back here.¡±
Tristan¡¯s pawing became a plucking, his mouth was wide open, his face red, turning purple around the eyes.
¡°Do not come back here.¡±
The cartilage in his throat collapsed with a crunch. Blood welled out of his mouth and his strained body became limp.
Bong!
Contestant number 26: Eliminated.
I didn¡¯t see the XP number rise above Tristan¡¯s dead body but my level bar went completely nuts and didn¡¯t slow down before being halfway to level 22.
Contestant number 17 stands victorious
I leaned back from Tristan¡¯s corpse; my arms numb from the strain of strangling him. I put my hands om my thighs, and just breathed. It was over.
There was a new graphic in my display now:
Congratulations: Brad Richards!
There even was some digital fireworks and confetti raining down over my name. I huffed a silent laugh.
For you victory you are awarded the Master Huntsman Award. It showed in my inventory under the achievements tab, and next to it the real reward was spelled out: Grants 10% extra skill level speed. Grants 1000 credits a day.
All great and well, but I was too exhausted to feel jubilant, and besides, I still had work to do. Tristan¡¯s lootable corpse was just in front of me, but despite being dead tired I stumbled to my feet and walked over to the sword lying on the cobblestones, shining its red light down the cracks.
I picked it up, looked at it, and finally feeling my heart swell with the sense of accomplishment. Then I put it in my inventory. No way I was going to lose the sword again.
When I had the sword secured, I went back to Tristan¡¯s corpse and opened his inventory and oh my, if the laddy was ever stacked with goodies. Over 20 potions each of Major Stamina, Major Health and Major Mana, and assorted exclusive potions I had no idea what they did, like
Grand Potion of Flesh Explosion, sounded gruesome enough, and another potion called
Mesmerize,
and another one called
Astral Light, but the main price was, shockingly enough, another potion of
Demonization.
I remembered what Sarah had said, that it was worth more than a seaside apartment in Area 3. That was a hefty amount of credits. I needed to think about what to do with it. I had learnt the power of this potion and it was, literally, a game changer which meant a free pass for anything the game could throw at me. There were other potions as well, to many to sort through while in the darkness of an abandoned fort with killer prawns stalking the perimeter.
I shot a glance through the gatehouse, but the woods were still.
Thinking of that. I went over to the maimed Redana and looted her corpse. Three of the glands were still intact, but the skull was destroyed, obviously, and some of the bones but I looted at least around 80 % of the Redana. Main thing was that the glands was now safely tucked away in my inventory and wouldn¡¯t trigger any prawn attacks.
I went back to Tristans corpse and clicked transfer all. His body flapped its limbs as the suit of armour was pulled from his body into my inventory. Together with the armour he also held an obsidian dagger of his own, a much finer one than mine, so that was a win. And then there was the heaps of gear he had looted from all the other contestants that had been might fine gear when I entered the competition but felt more like junk now, the exception of course being the two other legendary weapons that had been brought into the competition. None of them was a one-of-a-kind weapon as
Orak¡¯s Wrath but the one-handed legendary sword had an unusual enchantment
Fear, that seemed to be effective when fighting large groups of enemies as the fear debuff spread among them and lowered their defence and fortitude. The bow was an even finer price since it was one of those weapons that would level when used, gaining even more power. It held no enchantments but from what I¡¯ve learned all gear could be enchanted, so that could be a project for the future.
Soon after, I saw a blue light at the horizon. It grew and the mumbling sound of the ion engines came to me in soft waves.
My ride back home.
Chapter 24
I hadn¡¯t really realized what I had started back home in Breaker City. The landing pad at Bingham Square was crowded with people when I landed, all of them cheering and pumping their fists in the air. I recognized most of them from Anchors. The three Musketeers were there, of course, and I received man hugs from all of them. People crowded around me, shaking my shoulder or trying to give me a pat on the back.
¡°What is happening here?¡± I asked Rick when we tried to squeeze out of the landing area.
¡°You¡¯re the idol of the jellies; the man of the people, the David of the ordinary man ¨C
defeating the Goliath of the privileged. In short, a goddamn hero. We¡¯ve been watching you down in Anchors nonstop. The shuttles to Windersmyr and Elatrion hasn¡¯t been off the ground for days. When you won, Anchors exploded. The guys have been on a high ever since. You won¡¯t be paying for your drinks tonight, buddy, even if you could damn well afford it!¡±
And I didn¡¯t. Later down at Anchors, as soon as my drink was out, people almost fought to buy me a new one. I had been dead tired when flying out of the Clash, and had looked forward to just sleep for 24 hours straight, but I couldn¡¯t fend off all this enthusiasm and I was pulled in.
They had me retell all the pivotal moments of the clash, clinging to my every word, which was kind of a wasted effort since the screen in Anchors had the highlight reels of my competition on full repeat. It was strange seeing the talking heads in the studio talking about me, about my decisions and picking my every move apart, praising me for my strategic thinking, attributing it to my military background. Well, wonder what they would¡¯ve said if they knew the truth, that I was just winging it most of the time?
I don¡¯t know for how long I was at Anchors but when Rick put me in a cab and gave the driver my address, I was properly drunk. I slept like in a coma for the whole night and when I woke up, my bedroom was flooded with sharp, stabbing light.
Oh, for fucks sake.
I pulled the duvet over my throbbing head. I wish there was a potion for hang overs in Breaker City, but unfortunately there wasn¡¯t. The price for a night out was the same here as it was in the other world, a lighter wallet and a hurting head.
I stumbled out to the kitchen and drank water directly from the tap, wiped my mouth with the back of the hand and stumbled back to bed.
While lying there, feeling a bit more like a part of humanity again, I scrolled through my menus. I found a couple of odd things, and a completely new menu. The menu had a red border and was called:
Standing
What the¡?
I opened the menu.
Standing: 78% positive.
Favourited: 783.932
Viewers: 27.935.071
I just stared at the numbers, remembering Sarah¡¯s words and inwards smile from our talk at the Milanol.
People were watching us. The rumours were true.
What the actual
fuck?
I opened a sub menu to the Standing menu, called history. It was a line diagram. A jagged yellow line was showing my views over time, even when I hadn¡¯t known I was watched. My graph was flatlining until I met Sarah. It spiked after I entered the clash. It was the data from before the clash that drew my attention, though.
There were some noticeable bumps in the graph and when I corroborated them with my memory, they aligned with mine and Sarah¡¯s intimate moments.
Christ, they really did see everything. Fucking perverts.
I was numb, just staring at the graph. Someone was watching and they counted in the millions. I had a hard time thinking I was here for entertainment only, even if peeking in on people having sex or killing each other never really went out of fashion. Doesn¡¯t matter how much we evolve, we¡¯re still those blood thirsty bastards in the Coliseum.
I tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling, but I knew it would stick with me from here on. Having a couple of million people at any given time peeking in when you were eating breakfast, having a dump or spending quality time with the missus, that wasn¡¯t something you just got used to.
I had a missed communication from Sarah. I would call her back later. She if anyone could tell me what this was all about.
Next, I did a player search: Tristan Toth.
The search came up empty.
I didn¡¯t know how I felt about that. I had warned Tristan to come back. Two Toths was bad enough, I didn¡¯t need to deal with a third one. Hours had passed inside the game and that time equated to weeks in the other world.
Tristan wasn¡¯t coming back. I wondered how broken a man had to be to turn his back to all this? Pretty goddamn broken was my guess, and it was me that had done the breaking. Being slowly choked to death, I couldn¡¯t think of a more anguishing way to die. Guess Vinger was pretty pissed as well. Well, that was problems for another day.
I spent some tome browsing the real estate pages for housing in Area 8. I could afford it and as a level 20 plus, I was allowed. The difference between Area 8 and Area 9 wasn¡¯t major, nothing like the jump from Area 10 to 9. I liked my place here, looking out over the bridge, so I decided to stay put. And maybe my newly risen fame with the ¡°jellies¡± in Area 10 was better favoured of me living just north of them, rather than two borders north. I don¡¯t know what to do with their dogged admiration but being liked had to be better than being disliked, I figured, so I would nurture that.
I went back to the other new additions to my menu. My profile was glowing a pulsing blue, indicating there was something there demanding my attention.
My race information had been changed. Before it had only said:
Human. Now it said:
Human / ---
That was all. When I clicked it the pulsing blue light died down, but I got no new information. Human slash what? Was I only part human now? How the hell did that happen?
I dialled Sarah up.
She squeaked with delight, hearing from me and showered me with praise and gratulations. Yeah, it¡¯s good to be a hero. We talked for a while before deciding to meet at Leana¡¯s Lounge for lunch. The place was in Area 8. Sarah thought I should at least check the Area out, and I guess she could be right about that.
I showered and sat on my balcony, just enjoying the heat from the sun, looking at the landmass on the other side of the bridge, wondering who lived there, and why we in Breaker City couldn¡¯t go there. So many questions. I decided to focus on those I could get answers on, and at lunch time I sprang out of the cab, fresh as a daisy in my best pair of jeans and a new button downs shirt.
This part of town was made of old sandstone houses with tin roofs, looking very European. Leana¡¯s Lounge was located in the courtyard of four of these houses built in a square. The courtyard was lush with trees and pavilions, the grandest one of them, next to a pond with a fountain, was Leana¡¯s Lounge. Round tables were scattered around the pavilion and I saw Sarah at a table close to the pond, smoking. I drew glances when I walked over to her, people looking at me and then looking a bit harder, as if they recognized me, which they obviously did as I left hushed whispers in my wake. Even here in Area 8? I had thought the Jelly Clash was a thing mostly in Area 10, but obviously not.
Sarah rose with a smile as I approached and kissed me on the lips before sitting down again. Was this really the same woman that had hardly wanted to speak to me when we had first met, and that had sent me home in a cab when she was done with me? It was. I still wasn¡¯t sure what I felt about this change. It had been less complicated before. Seeing her smile and glittering eyes turned something alight inside of me, something that had been put into darkness that day when I found Melissa and Thomas. That had been a different kind of pain, one that went deeper than stab wounds and fire burns. I didn¡¯t need that in my life again.
¡°You were amazing in the Clash, Brad. I¡¯ve been chewing my nails to stumps during the tournament. I knew you had something in you but the way you tore through that tournament. Eyes have been opened.¡±
And there it was, straight into it.
¡°Yeah, and I have the hard data to prove it as well.¡±
¡°I guess you do. I couldn¡¯t tell you. I hope you understand that. And you can¡¯t tell your jelly-friends either. It¡¯s not allowed.¡±
¡°Says who?¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
¡°Says the almighty Terms of Agreement. You haven¡¯t read through it, have you?¡±
I shook my head.
¡°The Standings menu is Level 1 Class Information, as indicated by the red border in the display. To share that information means an immediate permaban.
¡°Ah. But since I now know, what can you tell me about it? If there¡¯s people watching, why do they want us to know about it?¡±
¡°If you¡¯re hoping for straight answers,¡± she said, taking a drag on her cigarette, pluming smoke. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll be disappointed, but there¡¯s theories.¡±
¡°As always.¡±
She smiled, angling her wrist slightly tapping the ashes of her cigarette.
¡°As always. Mine is that this is all some kind of gigantic Truman Show. People tap into it whenever they feel like, checking in on their favourite characters to see what they are up to, living vicariously through them since they probably have boring as hell lives themselves.¡±
¡°Truman Show? I don¡¯t know what that means.¡±
¡°Sorry, I forget sometimes that you¡¯re from the 80¡¯s. Picture a big ass production where the whole world is a set, cameras everywhere filming your every move.¡±
¡°Well, that sounds about right, but this we already know, yes?¡±
¡°We do, but in Truman Show there are episodes, a weekly chat show about what went down in the show during the weeks and things like that. I think that is what is happening here as well. They stir the pot to make interesting things happen. There are plot threads, plans for future story development. You see what I mean?¡±
I saw what she meant. It sounded plausible but I couldn¡¯t get away from the feeling there had to be more. There were actual friggin
time rifts
created by the game, or at least discovered and exploited by the game. It couldn¡¯t all be just for fun and games. Or maybe it could. What the hell did I know about future earth? For us, this is the biggest thing since the lunar landing, but for future earth this might just be a passing thing before they suck the whole galaxy into a black hole before trying the interesting thing of turning the universe inside out. As Michael had said, the first rift we knew about was from 2071, but that didn¡¯t mean the game was created then. It could¡¯ve been created in 7021 for all we knew. I¡¯ve never felt smaller or less important.
¡°So, what¡¯s the numbers for then?¡±
¡°To let us know they see us and that they have opinions of us. If you have a low approval rate, you want to improve on it. If you have low views, you want to improve on that. That¡¯s just human nature. For them, it means a better show when people are going out on a limb to try and do interesting stuff.¡±
¡°And are people? Trying to do interesting stuff, I mean.¡±
¡°At the beginning, maybe, but since there isn¡¯t a clear-cut benefit for being interesting, people just fall back and play the game as they like.¡±
¡°Something tells me it isn¡¯t that simple.¡±
She gave me a knowing smile.
¡°Of course it isn¡¯t. Have you ever wondered why Raker Toth is so much higher level than his brother, even though they entered the game together?¡±
I¡¯m ashamed so say, but I hadn¡¯t. I did now, though. It was strange, one brother being twice the level of the other. Vinger didn¡¯t strike me a as a person that just kicked back in the game.
¡°Raker was deemed an interesting character. His approval rate was abysmal, but his views was through the roof. He¡¯s the highest ranked player because he won consecutive Battle Clashes and with that, numerous speed levelling trophies. He can¡¯t even take a shit now without gaining XP. Things just seemed to go Rakers way for the longest time, but he was smart enough to understand that he was the villain of the show and that people get bored of hating the same guy. He had a strong feeling that things were about to turn south for him; everyone loves to see a king dethroned. So, he stopped taking risks. Stopped entering the clash. And now he just lives in debauchery which, I guess you¡¯ll be surprised, gives him just as many views as in his hay days.¡±
¡°Heh, no. Not surprised, at all.¡±
I told her about my ¡°discovery¡± of my previous viewer peaks and my theory about it.
¡°Yeah, most surely. For the longest time I was Raker¡¯s girlfriend and I had some good things happening to me as well ¨C Raker not being one of them ¨C and people still remember me. I¡¯m not surprised they popped in to take a look at the new guy.¡±
¡°The new¡ what the¡ You
knew they were watching.¡±
She shrugged and gave me a blank stare.
¡°They are always watching. That¡¯s the price you pay for the life in here, being an exotic in the zoo.¡±
¡°Fuck me¡¡±
¡°Maybe later, hun, but really, you get used to it.¡±
¡°Do one, really?¡±
¡°One does,¡± she said, giving me a sad smile.
I wouldn¡¯t get more than theories from Sarah, but as for what theories went, I thought she was spot on. I mentioned my race information that had changed, leaving a blank space, as to be filled in later.
¡°Really¡±, she said, taking a sip of her wine. ¡°That¡¯s interesting.¡±
¡°You know about it then?¡±
¡°I do. It¡¯s rare, though. You are a dual race. That could be a big thing, or it could not. About 7% of the player base is dual race. Why, is unknown.¡±
¡°So, is it a good thing, then? And how do I activate it?¡±
¡°To be dual race is never a bad thing. It can grant you favours from other races, usually at the price of making your standing worse with others. It usually balances out. Then there are other races that grants much bigger advantages, while at the same time giving equally big disadvantages. Necro Lords, for example. They are immensely powerful beings, but only at night. During the day they live deep in the cave systems of Windersmyr, guarded by their summoned undead. Then there are the Arcanes who wields and unknown sort of magic that makes them more powerful than even regular mages. But being an Arcane also mean you will inherit one of the bloodiest and longest living conflicts in Windersmyr, the one between the Circle and the Tribe. Or, maybe you will turn out to be a Devote, a disciple of science, a class that excels in Elatrion and Windersmyr alike. There are others. You might be of elf blood, granting you weaker forms of elf abilities like enhanced seeing, hearing and perception, but will put you at odds with every orc you encounter.¡±
¡°Huh, it was a lot more to it than I thought.¡±
¡°It usually is in this place.¡±
¡°So, how do I activate it?¡±
She shrugged.
¡°Beats me. I¡¯m of the other 93%. Usually it is a quest or something that you need to clear to unlock your other race.¡± She drank some more wine, looking at me over the rim of the glass. ¡°But you see how this works now?¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°Good things happening. Is it just a coincidence that you proved to be part of the 7%? Or did good things happening to you because the show runners liked what they saw in you? Nobody knows, but it can¡¯t be ruled out.¡±
¡°Is Raker dual race?¡±
¡°He is. He¡¯s an Arcane, affiliated with the Tribe, the ¡°evil¡± part in the Arcane war.¡±
She made quotation marks with her fingers around evil, so I guess good and evil in that particular war, as in so many others, was a question of viewpoint.
¡°And Vinger?¡±
She took a drink, shaking her head as she placed the glass back on the table.
¡°No. If you plan to continue the feud, you at least have one up on him there.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s my choice.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s Vinger¡¯s either. If you ask me, this feud between you, the rising star and the kid brother of the villain is too good for the show runners to pass up on. There are thousands of simultaneous story threads going on, but they will work this one. Believe me when I say they will make something happen.¡±
I hadn¡¯t the slightest intention of disagreeing, because when I looked out through the arced entrance to Leonas Lounge, I saw Vinger coming at us. Sarah noticed as well. She tensed up visibly.
¡°Don¡¯t let him gaud you into something stupid,¡± she whispered through the corner of her mouth. ¡°He got more to lose than to win starting a fight here. Remember, people are watching.¡±
Vinger walked up to our table, face white, movements jerky and barely in control of his body. He slammed one of the white metal chairs into the table, cleaving his mouth in a mad man¡¯s grin.
¡°Weeeell, look at the little love birds. Fuck, Sarah. This is how low you¡¯ve stooped? From my brother to¡
this?¡± He indicated me with the palm of his hand, giving a disgusted frown.¡±
¡°He¡¯s more the man than Raker ever was.¡±
Vinger bared his teeth, looking down at me. I didn¡¯t like having him hovering over me, but I remained seated. In the best-case scenario, it gave the impression I was calm and collected, which I wasn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t want to trigger Vinger with any unnecessary movement. He was teetering on the brink, and it wouldn¡¯t take much for him to lose the fragile grip he still had on his impulse control. I was level 21, he level 49. He could cave my head in with a single blow.
¡°What can I do for you Vinger?¡±
¡°You can fucking die and never show your face her again!¡±
¡°Sorry, can¡¯t do that for you. Fought to hard to be here today.¡±
I was in the verge of saying something about his brother, but dropped it. This wasn¡¯t the time.
¡°I hope you¡¯re proud of yourself, soldier boy, killing a player half your age. A noble and righteous player just trying to make a name for himself. Cheating and foul tactics. Are you proud of that? Are you proud of choking the goddamn
life
out of him! Leaving him like an empty shell of himself, doing nothing than lye on the couch, looking between his feet?¡±
There were so many things wrong in this statement that I didn¡¯t feel it was worth responding to.
¡°That shut you up, did it? Well, listen, soldier boy, what goes around comes around. The shoe is on the other foot now, and I¡¯ll be the one doing the kicking. I put the Mark of Death on you.¡±
¡°You can¡¯t do that!¡± Sarah blurted. ¡°You¡¯re more than twice his level!¡±
¡°I can!¡± Vinger roared stabbing himself in the sternum with his index finger. ¡°That¡¯s the whole fucking
point of being connected, isn¡¯t it! To make ¨C shit ¨C
happen! All right!¡±
And with those words, he turned and went back out on stilted legs.
I exhaled, looking after him.
¡°What the hell just happened?¡±
Sarah put her fingers over her eyebrows and shook her head with closed eyes.
¡°The worst thing possible.¡±
¡°Care to elaborate?¡±
¡°
They
just decided to meddle and make things interesting. Open your inventory and tell me what you see.¡±
I did, and I saw a lot. My
Standings menu was blinking. I opened it and the graph had gone about 89 degrees straight up, and was still climbing. Interesting, but hardly what Sarah had wanted me to look at. My objectives menu was also blinking. I pulled it down.
The Gauntlet is thrown
You¡¯ve been challenged to step inside the Circle with Vinger Toth (level 46) two days counting from now. You are hereby under the debuff Mark for Death. You can remove the debuff by declining the Challenge. If you chose to accept, the debuff will be active until the challenge is completed.
I shared my display with Sarah, but she looked at it without much interest. She¡¯d seen but before.
¡°There should be something in your inventory as well,¡± she said without much enthusiasm.
I looked, and she was right. A Platinum XP Box, giving north of 25 million XP. I huffed air through my nose.
¡°I guess that is the amount of XP needed to bring me into Vinger¡¯s level bracket?¡±
¡°It is. It¡¯ll bring you to level 35, but that doesn¡¯t mean anything. To go from level 21 to level 35 with the snap of the fingers, that¡¯s not a blessing ¨C that¡¯s a curse. That is 14 levels that you haven¡¯t been grinding skills. It¡¯s empty levels. There won¡¯t be 14 levels separating you and Vinger, it will be years of hard work and grinding. If you accept his challenge, you will lose. I think so much of you, Brad, but this isn¡¯t a fight you can win. Please trust me when I say that. Put your ego aside and use your brain. I nodded. I heard what she said, but all I could think of was ¨C level 35.
¡°So, what does this Mark of Death debuff mean then?¡±
¡°No traders will do business with you. You can¡¯t sell of your loot, and if you try to give it away to friends, it will be marked and it can never go back to your inventory. If you accept the challenge, you will have to put it all on the line. You understand?¡±
I nodded, because I did understand, but all I could think of was ¨C level 35.
¡°If you get killed and re-enter the game, all your skills will be reset, and you can¡¯t redo achievements that has already been cleared. You will literary start all over again, a bloated level 30 with no skills, no power and no loot. It isn¡¯t worth it¡ Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake. I see it in your eyes that you¡¯re thinking about it.
¡°No, I¡¯m not,¡± I lied, thinking of level 35.
Chapter 25
Rick just stared at me.
¡°You want me to
what?¡±
Michael and Mort sat silent on the edge of the couch, looking between us.
¡°You heard me. That¡¯s the way it¡¯s going to be.¡±
¡°You¡¯re actually planning to do this? Do you understand how dumb that is?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve been told. So, are you okay with this arrangement?¡±
¡°Sure. Yes, of course, but I really would like you to rethink this. You don¡¯t have to decide today.¡±
¡°It¡¯s already been decided.¡±
Rick nodded, looking at the floor.
¡°I kind of guessed it was.¡±
I pulled out
Orak¡¯s Wrath from my inventory. Its magic red glow lit up the walls of the Musketeers dreary apartment.
¡°I know he expects me to bring this to the challenge,¡± I said in a low monotone. ¡°That it would be some kind of justice done if he got to pry it from my dead hands, as I took it from his brother¡ But that¡¯s not going to happen.¡±
The musketeers looked at the sword in silent awe. I angled the hilt towards Rick.
¡°Take it.¡±
He looked at the sword with a gaze that looked almost frightened.
¡°It doesn¡¯t feel right.¡±
¡°I rather that one of you have it than Vinger.¡±
¡°I can sell it and give you the credits.¡±
¡°It¡¯s priceless, Rick. We¡¯re not selling this sword. Take it.¡±
Finally, he did, with a tremble in his hand. He raised in front of his face, staring at the shimmering blade. Then he tucked it away in his inventory. I felt a sudden sting of regret seeing go into my friend¡¯s inventory, but this was the best solution.
¡°Michael. I want you to have this bow,¡± I said and pulled out the legendary bow of slow. ¡°You¡¯re a good archer and could make good use of it. The enchantment on it is really good one.¡±
¡°Oh, wow! Thanks Brad. That¡¯s really swell.¡±
He looked the bow over with mouth wide open, stroking the compound curve as if he was stroking a woman.
I looked over at Mort, who tried to look casual but had never looked more like an eager kid on Christmas.
¡°I have one legendary blade left, Mort. But I need that in the challenge.¡±
¡°Of course. I understand, Brad.¡±
¡°But.¡±
Mort perked up.
¡°I¡¯ll give you what probably is even more sought after than a legendary blade. You¡¯re starting to become a prolific mage and I think you can make good use of this.¡±
I pulled out the
Demonization potion from my inventory. Mort stared at it.
¡°Is that¡?¡±
¡°It is. The most potent potion in the game. You¡¯ve seen what it can do. You can hold on to it or sell it. It¡¯s yours to do with what you will. If you rather want a legendary blade, you can afford it after selling that potion.¡±
¡°Problem would be to find a trader with enough coin to buy it,¡± Rick said.
¡°Oh, that won¡¯t be a problem. I¡¯ll be saving this, for sure,¡± Mort said, which was what I hoped he would say. ¡°Thanks, Brad! This is awesome.¡±
I gave all my credits to Rick to hold on to. I was under the Mark of Death and even if all my gear was marked, my credits weren¡¯t. I also gave him the rest of my loot, to distribute between the three of them as he saw fit.
¡°And now, I think I need to call in a mutual friend of ours.¡±
¡°Are we talking about the one I think we¡¯re talking about?¡± Michael said, a smile spreading on his lips.
¡°Yep, if none of you gents disapprove?¡±
¡°Oh, quite the contrary,¡± Rick said, grinning, making Mort snigger.
I pressed the summon button and there was a knock on the door.
¡°Please come in, the door is open.¡±
Alara opened the door and walked in, as always in her futuristic body suit.
¡°Alara.¡±
¡°Brad¡±, she said with a nod, and then, in turn recognizing the rest of the Musketeers. ¡°Mort, Rick, Michael. It¡¯s been a while.¡±
¡°Sure has,¡± Mort said, giving a dreamy smile.
¡°How can I help you, Brad?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve been challenged, by Vinger Toth. I need all information on the challenge you can share.¡±
¡°I can share that you¡¯re in way over your head. He¡¯s twice your level. Even if you chose to accept the challenge and get to open the XP box, you will gain levels and Base XP, but you will still be severely lacking in Skill XP. In that regard, you¡¯re pretty much at the same place as when you entered the Battle Clash. You¡¯ve speed levelled. Vinger has not. He¡¯s ground out his levels and has the Skill XP to match them.¡±
¡°Ah, thanks for the pep talk. Can you tell me how he has allocated his skill points?¡±
¡°I cannot. But I can tell you that you have a weird mix of your own. To pour all your Base Skill Points into strength is an¡ unorthodox decision, especially since your main skills lay in ranged weaponry.¡±
¡°Yeah, you might be right about that, but it served me well against Tristan. I¡¯m hoping it will do the same for me against his brother.¡±
¡°As I said, I can¡¯t give you any information concerning that.¡±
¡°Get it. So, how is this challenge going to go down then?¡±
¡°It¡¯s quite simple. You bring your weapon of choice into the circle, and your opponent brings his. An officiant spins a shield to decide who gets to choose weapon first.¡±
¡°How refined. Wonder who came up with it.¡±
¡°Some Average Joe I would guess. You need to be skilled in a range of different weapons when stepping into the circle, because you never know what you will end up fighting with. As the fight starts, the same rules apply as for hand-to-hand-combat. You won¡¯t be able to use any boosts or potions, and you will not be able to use magic either. It¡¯s a test of skill, grit and courage.¡±
¡°What happens if I lose?¡±
¡°I think you already know.¡±
¡°I want to hear it from you.¡±
¡°You will be bumped back down to level 30 and all your skills ¨C except the natural ones ¨C like your skills with bow and sniper rifle, will be reset to zero. All your completed achievements will remain completed which mean you can¡¯t receive XP or lot from them. All your items are Marked as well as your person, meaning that you will never be able to own or handle a piece of equipment that was in your inventory at the moment the debuff Marked for Death was placed on you.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve given my stuff to my friends. Is that allowed?¡±
¡°It is. But they can never give them back to you, either directly or using a middle man. To touch a marked weapon will scorch your hand and drain both your stamina and HP at an alarming rate.¡±
I nodded, looking out through the window.
¡°I¡¯m kinda starting from the muddy outside track here. Has anyone in my position ever won a challenge?¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
¡°No. No one has ever gone into a challenge as disadvantaged as you and won.¡±
There is another thing to take into account, I heard Alara¡¯s voice in my head.
Your standing will plummet if you decline the challenge. The conflict between you and Vinger has gotten quite a bit of traction and people doesn¡¯t respond well being cheated on a show.
I gave her a look. She curled the corner of her mouth into half a smile.
So, I don¡¯t have much of a choice, then?
Depends what your ambition are. If you just want to have a nice life in Breaker City, start a shop and drink coffee or what was it you said? Then you can decline. You will drop out of the public gaze and merge with the crowd. But if your striving upwards, you need to stay in people¡¯s sphere of awareness. It¡¯s all up to you.
I nodded, sighing loudly.
¡°What? What¡¯s happening?¡± Mort said, looking between me and Alara.
I brought down the Missions Tab and pulled up the
Gauntlet is Thrown
objective and hit Accept.
They flew me out the next day, in the late afternoon. It was only me on the transport. When I disembarked, Sergeant Watts gave me a slap on the shoulder.
¡°What you lack in brains, you clearly make up with balls. Good luck, soldier. Bring that bastard down and make us all a happier family.¡±
¡°Will do, Sergeant,¡± I said and walked of the ramp.
It was almost dark, just a strand of pink and gold at the wooded horizon in the west. I was at the foot of a hill. On the top of it, lights were burning. I guess that was where I was going. While I trudged up the hill, the carrier took flight and zoomed past above me, mumbling away. I had a heavy lump of nervousness in the pit of my stomach. My palms were slick and cold. Maybe this was a mistake? But at the same time, it felt like I¡¯d been corralled to this point. I suddenly understood what Sarah had meant by saying the show runners meddled with things, funnelled events in certain ways to get something exciting to show on the screens. Who were they who watched me walking up this hill now? People didn¡¯t respond well to be created on a show, Alara had said. People equated to humans to me, but did it to Alara? She wasn¡¯t even human herself; I had no idea how her frame of references looked. But nothing of that mattered at the moment, because I was trudging up a hill of icy snow to what would most probably be my own death.
Oh, come on. Don¡¯t be overdramatic. It¡¯s just a stupid game. You¡¯re risking nothing.
I tried to tell myself that, but it was my internal voice trying to rally against everything else; the crunching snow beneath my boots, the strain in my thigs and the sheen of sweet that was growing cold on my forehead; the yellow flames flickering and thrashing in the wind, contained by wrought iron cages. I could tell myself this was just a game, but I knew it was wrong. It was
more, and this was only the first of many ordeals I needed to go through to understand what. The world around me, it
was real, it felt more real than the other world and I feared how my mind would react to instant death. Would it fry, to use Rick¡¯s words? As it felt now, I thought I ran the risk of that. Right here, right now, I had a hard time even picturing my living room in the other world. It was a distant memory.
This was my reality now.
A figure became visible over the top of the hill, a man in a padded robe, holding a scroll in his clutched hands. He wore a six cornered hat, marking him as the officiant.
I continued upwards, and there was Vinger. His bare torso was rubbed with oil, glistening in the light of the fires. His blonde hair was wrapped up in a tight bun.
He hadn¡¯t seen me yet. He was in a battle stance, teeth clenched, swinging his sword ferociously in a fast pattern. It left golden streaks in the air.
A legendary weapon, then.
The officiant gave me a short bow.
Vinger turned his head, looked at me and managed to smile as he bared his teeth, looking completely deranged. A chill went through me.
The top of the hill was flat, maybe as big as half a basketball court. This would be some kind of lethal king of the hill then, to be pushed of the sides would be a very bad thing.
Vinger whipped his sword and walked up to me, slow and deliberate, still smiling that eerie smile. He stopped just short of me. I had almost forgotten how big he was. Half a head taller than me and his glistening, bulging mass of muscles took up more space than I was comfortable with. Didn¡¯t matter how many skills points I¡¯d put into strength. I would never be able to physically outmatch this monster.
This was a mistake. A big fucking mistake.
¡°I will rip you apart, limb from limb, Vinger said in a low monotone that scared me more than his usual screaming and hollering. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere to run here, little rabbit.¡±
¡°Please stand back,¡± the officiant said putting the back of his hand on Vinger¡¯s heavy chest, urging him backwards. ¡°You¡¯ll get your chance at murder and blood soon enough, but this will be done by the book. We¡¯re not savages, after all.¡±
Vinger stepped back, with a predatory smile.
¡°In the power vested in me by King Reymer Greywolf, fifth of his house, Lord of the Four Dominions, Conqueror of the Ulans and the Baerdi, I sanction this Challenge by the grace of his will. Two will step into the ring, only one will step out.¡±
There was a whoosh when fire shot from the wrought iron cages, connecting them in a ring of fire. The flames danced shoulder high. I¡¯d been wrong. There would be no king of the hill. If I was pushed into the fire, I would be burnt to death instead.
¡°Put forth your weapons.¡±
I pulled out my legendary sword and threw it in the snow. I saw the tug of disappointment in the corner of Vinger¡¯s mouth. He had expected
Orak¡¯s Wrath. He threw his own sword, legendary as expected but I couldn¡¯t tell anything more from it from this distance.
If I got first pick. I would go for it, not only to piss Vinger off, but because I expected his sword to be better than mine. He had no reason to fear me. The idea that he could lose what he brought into the circle had probably not even crossed his mind.
The officiant pulled out an oblong shield with a bottom tip of silver steel. He spun it. It wobbled in the snow, hit the icy crust and travelled sideways for a bit, but when it stopped, it ¨C without doubt ¨C pointed straight at Vinger.
Fuck.
Vinger, wordlessly, picked his own sword up and when he looked at me, there were no more creepy smiles and attempts to intimidation. His face was a complete blank.
I needed to change that.
My plan, because I had one ¨C even if it was far from refined ¨C was to piss him off, make him so angry that he lost his composure. The way I was to do it was a no-brainer. It would do nothing to improve on my approval rate, but I planned to do whatever it took to win.
I went down on one knee to pick up my sword, and said off-handedly.
¡°Did I tell you that your brother pissed himself when I killed him?¡±
¡°Shut your mouth,¡± Vinger said, still in that eerie monotone.
¡°Oh yeah, pissed his pants and sobbed in my ear. Proved to be a true Toth after all.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll fucking kill you.¡±
¡°Yeah? That¡¯s the gran plan, eyh? Like I hadn¡¯t understood that already. If you haven¡¯t anything of worth to say, just keep your mouth shut, ¡®kay?¡±
¡°Fucking start this already!¡± Vinger roared to the officiant, who blinked and took a step back.
¡°Such language,¡± the officiant said in a dwindling voice. ¡°But, very well, in the power vested in me, I declare this challenge started.¡±
Vinger roared and came at me with his sword raised. My chest gave a single thump of fear. I twisted out of the way, making Vinger slash air. I got no chance to counterattack. Vinger lashed out in a vicious side swing. His blade hit mine with a shrill ringing tone, sending numbing vibrations up my arms. His sword was already coming down on me again. I twisted out of the way again, having his blade scrape by my shoulder. I was prepared for the side swing this time, meeting his blade with more determination.
The blades crashed together.
I tried to un-foot him by shoulder push him, but it was me that was un-footed, stumbling back from the oak-like resistance of his stance.
The blade came whizzing again.
I ducked and thrusted forward. He deflected my thrust to the side.
Christ he was fast!
I was out of balance, having put everything in that forward thrust. Instead of trying to regain my footing I dove into a forward roll, spinning around, coming up on one knee, immediately having to parry a vicious overhead chop from Vinger. I took the full brunt of his force and I felt the tip of his sword nip my forehead. I came to my feet, a trickle of blood dripping of my right eyebrow.
¡°Shat himself as well,¡± I continued, grinning while panting. ¡°Crying for his big brother to come save him.¡±
Vinger came roaring back at me, fully consumed by rage now. Chopping down on me like a farm boy chopping wood, bashing away.
I stumbled backwards, absorbing the hits as I went. I couldn¡¯t feel my fingers anymore. My wrists felt like shattered glass. How long could I keep this up?
I caught my balance for just a fraction of a second but that was enough to stomp over his knee from the side.
I saw it buckle, but it didn¡¯t give way.
He grunted. I slashed. He was no longer there. I parried his strike. My sword flung to the side, but I managed to keep hold of it.
The next blow was already coming from above. I stepped to the side, raising my sword. His sword struck the front end of mine, which dipped, making the force of Vinger¡¯s slash continued downward.
He stumbled forward.
I acted on instinct and unloaded everything I had in a vicious low kick to the back of his thighs.
He went down on his knees, arms flailing. The next kick came from the other side, my shin striking him right in the face.
He gurgled and toppled backwards.
I was on him in an instant, getting a massive flash of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. If this strategy could kill one Toth, it could just as well kill another.
I tried to secure the armlock. He still held his sword. I blocked his movement by angling my elbow out. He dropped his sword. My heart jumped with triumph.
Then I realized he had dropped the sword to grab my elbow.
His fingers were like cold bars of iron.
He started pressing upward. The sense of triumph drained out of me. He was stronger, by a lot. His other hand locked over my neck in a big bearhug.
¡°This will hurt a little,¡± he murmured in my ear.
He was strong but had no technique, at all. I got out of his neck lock by burrowing my forehead down at his neck, smearing my blood, and then I flipped forward.
I still had a hold of his wrist and when I landed on my back, I dug my thumb into his wrist and quickly turned around, twisting his arm to breaking point.
He screamed and arched his back, letting me slip my leg in and clamp down on his neck with a leg-scissor.
¡°Mmpfh!¡± he said, his iron fingers digging into my thigs.
I had this. I had that motherfucker in a ¨C
He dug his thumb in above my kneecap. I felt the skin break, and then is thumb slid into my knee joint.
I howled with the exploding pain, but I didn¡¯t let go.
Vinger grunted and wriggled while pushing his thumb even further in.
I pinched my eyes closes and tried to block out the pain, but there was no way containing these levels of pain.
¡°Mmmmpfh!¡± Vinger grunted.
He was still breathing. He still got air. I tried to flex my thighs harder but the pain from the hole in the side of my knee was too intense.
I felt blood slosh out of the wound.
I glanced over my shoulder.
My sword was lying there, close than Vinger¡¯s sword was lying to him. I would only get one shot at this. I gasped a breath and released my leg scissor, stomped down on top of Vinger¡¯s head as hard as I could with my uninjured leg, pushing me closer to my sword.
I crawled toward it.
Behind me I heard Vinger scrambling in the snow.
I closed my hand on the hilt of the sword and turned around, trying to get to my feet. My ruined knee, betrayed me, wobbled to the right and I had to correct myself with the tip of the sword.
Vinger was already on his feet. Sword in hand, stroking blood from his face and eyes. He blinked at me, two perfect circles in a mask of red. Then he came at me.
One last chance.
One last forward thrust.
I leaned back, pulling back the sword ¨C and then I thrust forward.
Vinger just angled his hips, and I tumbled past him.
Something hit me in the back of the neck.
The world exploded in purple and red.
Chapter 26
I tumbled out of the couch, tearing the mask from my face, spewing vomit through mouth and nose. I collapsed on the rug, my body locked in a cramp, teeth gritted, hands clenched to my chest, legs trembling with the tension.
Then the cramp let go, leaving my body ravaged and depleted.
I gasped, pulling down my acrid breath, my mind shattered like a mirror, all sharp edges. I pulled down another breath.
Calm¡ calm¡calm¡ I urged myself with every breath and my racing heart started to slow.
My god¡ my head. I felt like caved in with a war hammer. I just lay there looking out at a palm tree in the garden that was showered in the heavy orange of sunset. I needed to get up, rinse my mouth, get my head sorted but for now, all I could do was to lye here on my side, hands still clenched to my chest, and look out at that palm tree that looked like it was on fire.
Vinger had killed me. Chopped of my head whilst I was on my hands and knees. Just lopped it of for the whole of Breaker City to see.
A surge of anger tensed the corner of my mouth.
I urged myself to stand, and I did. It was a slow and pitiful process, which felt like it shattered my brain a second time.
I stumbled out to the bathroom, rinsed my mouth and spat out strings of yellow and blood.
Disgusting.
I rinsed until it was nothing more than water that came out when I spat.
Then I collapsed down on the toilet and closed my eyes.
I had a fever, and I was rapidly growing hotter. I should fill up a bucket with water, get back out to the living room and try to get the rug clean, or at least not stinking of fresh vomit; but you could just as well have asked me to run a marathon. I had enough strength to get back to the couch and collapse in it, but that was all.
I don¡¯t know for how long I slept, but when I woke up, it was in the dead of night. The TV¡¯s power indicator stared at me with an angry red eye. I was sweating like a pig, the fever ravishing my body. I mumbled for water, didn¡¯t know to who, but no water came.
I fell back into a shallow sleep, looping the same segment of a dream over and over until I woke up at dawn, mentally exhausted.
The fever was on its way down, though.
I rolled over on my back, my sweaty clothes straining against my body in a claustrophobic damp grip.
The stench of vomit was in the air; I knew it, but I could no longer feel it. Probably I stank up the room equally bad. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
I got out of the couch, stumbled over to the rug, Melinda¡¯s most priced possession, and rolled it up. It took all my remaining strength to carry it through the house, unlock the door and throw the whole thing out on the porch.
Then I went back to the bathroom and took a long hot shower, feeling a bit better when I came out of it, the towel wrapped around my waist.
I ate a small breakfast of toast, orange juice and a cup of coffee. From outside I heard the distant whoosh of the highway, and an airplane that came in for landing. It was never silent in this world. It was brimming with life and innovation, but still it was so bleak in comparison to the one I had left.
I dressed up in shorts and a t-shirt and left the apartment, swerved around the rolled-up carpet and got into my Bronko. I went down to the sea, sat down on the bench and looked out over the ocean. It was still early morning, and the beach was all but deserted. The taco stand behind hadn¡¯t open for the day.
Vinger had killed me. Everyone had said it wasn¡¯t a fight I could win, but I had thought I never better. It was like in Hell Week for the marines. When people thought you were done and had nothing more to give, you still had at least 30% more to give. When you yourself thought you¡¯ were done and had nothing more to give, you still had at least 10% left. But in this instance, the hill had turned out to be a mountain and when I got back in there, because I would go back ¨C that wasn¡¯t even a question; I would do it as a level 30 with all my skills reset. That was a bummer, but I chose to see it in another light. Sarah had said I would be a bloated level 30 without the skills to match the level, and she had a point, but the way I looked at it; my speed level journey had started already at the Battle Clash. I rose from level 10 to level 21 in a matter of days, and I didn¡¯t have the skills to match that level either. So, if I could choose, being a bloated level 30 without the skills to match, or to be a level 10 with the skills to match? I would still choose to be level 30.
Character levels was so much slower to gain than Skill levels and as a level 30 I could gain them so much faster. Besides, I thought I still had an ace up my sleeve. It would show when I logged back on.
The seagulls squawked and balanced on the hot wind. Behind me the rattling and screeching of the store front shutters being pulled up signalled that the new day was well under way.
I got back to my Bronco and headed home.
I fired up the console and put the mask to my face. That sudden icy chill came and then Alara was in my living room.
¡°Brad. You¡¯re looking good, considering the circumstances.¡±
¡°And you, you always look good, Alara,¡± I said, giving her a wolfish smile.
¡°Hmm, looks like you¡¯re ready to swing back up the saddle. Have fun playing.¡±
She smiled and I was back at my apartment in Area 9. The span of the bridge was lit by the moon.
I pulled down my inventory. Alara had said that my achievements would not be reset, that I couldn¡¯t gain XP from them again, but if my achievements weren¡¯t reset, that ought to mean¡
Yes. The Battle Clash trophy was still listed in my inventory.
To have 10 % faster levelling, for both skills and character, that would help remedy my status as a bloated level 30. I knew all the best levelling spots and at level 30, I would just brush through them. And a guaranteed 1000 credits a day, that did help as well.
Incoming message:
Rick Solomon: Brad! You¡¯re back! Is your brain fried or can you still put together coherent sentences?
Brad Richards: I got this dribble from the side of my mouth, and I can only speak in one syllable words, but other than that, I¡¯m peachy!
Rick Solomon: Good to hear, buddy. Really good to hear. Are you coming down to Anchors? There¡¯s thing¡¯s we need to talk about.
Brad Richards: Be there in a sec.
My inventory was cleaned out, my credits was down to an even 1000, but I wasn¡¯t discouraged. Quite the contrary. If my purpose inside the game had been a bit lofty up till now; finding answers, they had crystalized.
I was getting even with Vinger Toth and if that meant going through his brother, the Alpha Prime, I would do it.
This had become personal.