An NPC's Path, Book 2
Kingdom of the Dead
by Pavel Kornev
Release - October 8, 2018
Check out the first book - The Dead Rogue
Chapter
One
The
Doldrums
THE TOWER
OF DARKNESS was impressive. Overpowering, even.
No amount
of advertising could impart the sheer
splendor and magnitude of that pitch-black obelisk which towered over the bay.
In reality, it looked much more-
In reality?
I cussed
and shuddered.
In
reality! Dammit! I already considered the game a reality! Having said that...
that’s how it was. I couldn’t press the logout button. I had no hope of ever
waking up in my virtual reality capsule . My character’s dead body had already
become part of the local scenery. It had ensnared me like the Devil’s own net
and would keep me so until the day I was reborn. Reborn in the game, that is.
Or until I was dead in real life. There was no other way. Sad, but that’s how
it was.
As soon
as I realized it, I felt free from the Tower’s suppressive illusion. I didn’t
even feel like looking at it anymore. I even wanted to go below to my cabin.
Still, I forced myself to stay on deck. Dammit! I’d been striving to get to the
capital for too long to now hide away in a dark corner and miss all the
interesting bits.
The barge
unhurriedly glided down the Azure river whose far banks disappeared into the
morning mist. Small islets emerged out
of the milky fog that hovered over the water. The river’s navigational lights
flickered everywhere I looked.
Soon the
river bed began to split into a multitude of narrow gullies. The current grew
faster. The crew of orcs with long poles lined the decks, preparing to guide
the boat around any eventual obstacles.
On top of
the mast, my undead pet spread his wings and filled the air with his thunderous
Craaah!
Wretched
bird! The problem was, the game didn’t recognize me as a bona fide player, and
therefore I couldn’t control my own pet. The bastard did what he wanted.
The orcs
raised their heads, scowling. Still, none of them wanted to be the one to climb
the mast. They’d already known from
experience that they wouldn’t be able to shoo him away for too long. In any case, soon they had more important
things to do: the helmsman couldn’t control the current, leaving the other crew
members to fend the boat off from the numerous jetties and breakwaters.
According
to the latest figures, there were up to half a million players in the city at
any given time. Even the sky-high local prices couldn’t scare them off. The
capital of the dark world had been prudently built on a plethora of small
islands which helped to somewhat contain its restless inhabitants. There were
even rumors circulating about banning entry to the city to all new players
below level 25. But this was still in the preparatory stage.
I caught
a glimpse of the stone embankments peeking out of the mist. Then the barge
surged through into the open. The wind blew away the murky fog. The rising
sun’s rays glittered on the rippling waters.
Immediately
my Perception dropped. I pulled the hood down.
A dark
shadow fell from behind me. I turned round. The side of an impossibly high
galleon loomed over us. It overtook our boat in seconds as it headed out into
the open sea, the players on its upper deck not even trying to conceal their
contempt for us.
The orcs
hurried to raise the sail which immediately caught the wind, pushing the barge
into the port. The enormous back of some sea monster flitted amid the waves,
then disappeared into the depths.
I
loosened my white-knuckled grip on the rail. Some monster that was! What if it
had swallowed us whole?
Still, I
forgot about the leviathan as soon as I glimpsed a giant golden dragon take off
from one of the islands. Two gryphons trailed in his wake, blindingly bright sunrays
reflecting from their riders’ polished armor. And to top it all, a three-masted
flying ship appeared from behind the Tower of Darkness.
I picked
up my dropped jaw from the floor and shrugged. This was all virtual. It was
only a game.
Still,
these attempts at self-persuasion didn't help me much. The capital of the Dark
Side seemed so boundless that my mind refused to contemplate it. Where was I
supposed to go? How? And what for? This was a huge world which didn’t give a
damn about some deadman’s problems.
Stubbornly
I ground my teeth. I didn’t care! This was no different from any other time I’d
had to follow a new map. It always felt incomprehensible. I knew that I’d work
it out, given time. I might not even have to, provided Isabella hadn’t wasted
her time and had managed to approach the right people.
A cold
shiver ran down my spine. I had too much at stake to wager all my hopes on a
casual acquaintance. I didn’t even know
how she was going to meet me after such a prolonged absence. The priestess had never
been known for her patience.
I forced
myself to dispel any doubt. The level gap between us wasn’t that big anymore.
She could no longer smoke me with a single blow from her staff these days. I
chuckled. I’d make myself heard. I'd make her see things my way. Everything
would be fine.
I had no
doubt that I’d meet up with Isabella in the very near future. We were bound by a quest, after all. We could
track each other’s position on the map. And if her marker was to be believed,
she was already waiting for me on the pier. Perfect opportunity to talk things
over.
THE PORT
TURNED OUT to be absolutely enormous. It was bigger
than the entire island that constituted Stone Harbor. On one side, it was lined
with deep-water quays for sea-going ships; on the other, with jetties for
smaller river craft. The harbor was absolutely packed but miraculously, there
were no collisions between any of the boats.
Miraculously?
Oh no. That was navigational magic at work. The orc helmsman stared almost
unblinkingly at the ghostly sorcerous sphere that was his pilot.
Gradually,
other passengers came up on deck. There weren’t very many of them, though. Few
players had managed to coincide their login with their arrival in the capital.
They had no need for it: the moment the ship moored, their respective respawn
points were transferred automatically to the vicinity of one of the local
Towers of Power. There was no shortage of them in the capital. Minor places of
power were located on every even remotely important island.
Neo had
come up on deck, too, and froze open-mouthed. The other players cast sideways glances at our white monastic
habits embroidered with silver phoenixes. Although they knew better than to ask
questions, their attention made me cringe.
You had
to face it: arriving at the Tower of Darkness wearing the robes of a god of
Light wasn’t a very healthy idea. What was the point of going Incognito if
every Tom, Dick and Harry regarded me
as potential quarry? I had to change,
the sooner the better.
A few
larger boats sailed past. They resembled Chinese junks. Our helmsman let them
through, then steered our barge into the farthest corner of the port toward a
lopsided jetty which was occasionally washed by the wake of other vessels.
Here, the
picturesque buildings with their stained-glass windows gave way to squat
warehouses, the bustle of the port replaced by silence in its deserted narrow
lanes.
Not far
from where we were about to moor, some fishing boats were bobbing on the waves.
My Night Hunter’s refined sense of smell made me cringe from the sharp stench
of rotting fish.
The side
of our boat collided softly with the wooden trestles of the jetty. I felt a
slight jolt. As soon as the sailors had laid down the gangplanks, the fanged
captain began screaming at the top of his voice,
“Everyone
off! Quick! Move it!”
The
passengers hurried across the unstable gangplanks onto the jetty. A crowd of
stevedores moved toward the barge past them, as well as players who’d already
bought tickets for the return voyage, creating an unruly crowd.
I
struggled out of the heaving mass of people and stood in the middle of the fish
scale-covered jetty. I rearranged the swords behind my back and looked around,
searching for Isabella.
The Elven
girl was waiting by the nearest warehouse. Much to my surprise, this time she
was clad in a modest cloak, long and shapeless, instead of her usual
eye-catching combat armor.
Neo
tugged my sleeve. “Auntie Bella!”
“Please
keep your voice down,” I said, then headed toward her. She’d already stood up
straight, staring at us in disbelief.
In
disbelief? - you could say that! Her eyes had very nearly popped out of her
head!
“What the
hell?” she cussed the moment we approached. “What have you done to the boy,
kitten?”
I
shrugged. “It just happened.”
“It just
happened?” she hissed, furious. “Just
happened?”
“Yeah,” I
said while Neo hurried to hide behind my back.
“You
can’t be left alone for one minute!” she scowled. “Where have you been? Why
didn’t you reply to my messages?”
“Eh,” I
faltered. “How about I tell you everything as we get going? Okay?”
She shook
her head. “I don’t think so!” The teeth of the skull topping her staff started
to chatter. “Come on then, out with it!”
A few
heads turned to the sounds of our exchange. I tapped a finger on the silver
phoenix on my white-robed chest,
“I’m
afraid our clothes aren’t the best choice here. We’ll have to change first.”
She sized
me up with her glare - but luckily, she must have decided to leave it be for
the time being. She pointed at a dark passage between the two windowless walls
of adjacent warehouses. “Screw you, kitten. We’ll see about that... later...”
she’d managed to inject a lot of meaning into the last word.
I
shrugged and led them off the jetty. A long desperate Craaah! followed in my wake as the undead black phoenix left the
boat’s mast and took to the wing. His tatty wingbeats didn’t strike one as particularly graceful but they kept him
aloft. When a curious seagull got too close to him, he gave it an almighty
whack with his beak, sending it tumbling straight into the water.
“Get a
move on!” Isabella snapped. “Where on earth did you get those stupid clothes?
What happened to the boy? No, scrap that! Start from the beginning! Why didn’t
you use the portal?”
“It’s a
long and sad story...”
Isabella
turned round to me and smiled unkindly. “You’d better not test my patience,
kitten!”
I replied
with an equally malicious smile. Still, due to my mask all my efforts had been in vain.
“Okay,” I
heaved a sigh unwilling to strain our relationship. “I was late because some
bad dude had started hassling me at the worst possible moment. And by the time
I’d sorted him out, the portal had already closed.”
‘But why
didn’t you reply to my messages?” she demanded, furious.
“My PM
box is glitchy,” I lied. “I can read messages but I can’t reply to them.”
“Very
useful!”
“Listen,
why should I lie to you? You still have the
shard of the Sphere of Souls!”
This last
argument calmed her down a bit. “Okay,” she grumbled. “So what have you been up
to all this time?”
I didn’t
get the time to reply. The passage between the two walls had led us out onto a
wide square which was so busy with players that our ears rang with all the
clamor.
“Cheap
power leveling services!” shouted a knight in full armor with a huge halberd
behind his back. “I can rush you from level 25 to 50 in a week!”
“Join us
in a raid on the Lights!” one of Isabella’s Elven compatriots screamed,
theatrically brandishing his longbow. “PM me for details!”
“An
island quest!” a blue-skinned pirate with golden earrings hollered. “The
Treasure of the Corsair King! Piles of gold just for the taking!”
“WTS full
Amber Cross set!”
“A Gray
Mountains raid! Dwarven mithril!”
“The
sword of the Star Destroyer! Half-price! I need money urgently!”
“Strength
runes to order!”
I felt
lost from all the cacophony around me. Isabella tugged on my hand, forcing me
out of the way of a demonologist, pale like death itself, who towered above the
crowd. A hell hound on a leash trotted subserviently behind him, its smooth
coat oozing black infernal flames.
“Portals
to Infernal planes, I’ll send you and bring you back, but I don’t lay claim to
any loot,” he murmured occasionally under his breath.
Strangely
enough, he seemed to be one of the most popular, constantly hassled by other
players who asked him about his fee.
Humans
and elves made up the majority of the crowd but there were enough dwarves and
orcs amongst them too. Occasionally my eye chanced on some truly strange
creatures. And as for armor and weapons,
the choice was mind-boggling. My flamberge sword paled into
insignificance next to them.
As we
skirted the outside of the crowd, Isabella warned me, “Keep your eyes peeled.
The local pickpockets go after noobs like you.”
Indeed,
the place seemed perfect for thieves of all kinds. Most new players arrived in
the capital by sea. Many of them didn’t have enough patience to even make it to
the shops. They’d spend all their hard-earned cash right here on this impromptu
junk market. Some never even got the chance to spend anything.
I stopped
gawking around and hurried to check my inventory. The wretched skull was still
there. Big sigh of relief.
Isabella
swung round to me and snapped, “You kitten, and you... whoever you are... move
your backsides!”
We
followed her into a side lane and soon left the noise and clamor of the crowd
behind. Isabella led us via some dark
deserted alleys until finally we rejoined the motley stream of players. After a
short while, we found ourselves on the square behind the port’s main building.
“Wow,”
Neo couldn’t suppress his delight.
I too
slowed the pace, studying the wide square in front of me. Beyond it flowed a
canal, with a temple towering on its opposite bank.
The
majestic building with its dome topped with a spire, seemed to grow straight
out of the water. That somehow added to its mystery and charm. A flying carpet
floated from behind it.
I shook
my head, forcing my mind to reject the illusion.
This was
only a game. Just a bunch of pixels evoking an image in my brain. Virtual
reality made all kinds of things possible.
“Come on,
kitten, move it!” Isabella called.
I stepped
after her, pulling Neo by the hand. He looked just like any other provincial
boy stunned by big city life.
The
realization of this made me cringe as this boy too was supposed to be a bunch
of pixels. A combination of ones and zeroes. Just part of a program code.
I caught
up with Isabella. “Where’re we going?”
“Somewhere
away from here,” the Elven priestess replied. “You two with your white robes
might just as well have targets on your backs.”
You
couldn’t argue with this. I kept receiving new messages about others’
interested stares. All sorts of unpleasant whispers followed in our wake. I
pretended I didn’t hear anything even though some of them made me feel like
sorting out some of the jokers with my flamberge.
I’d have
loved to but I couldn’t. The burly city
guards in their black armor wouldn’t hesitate to chop any potential
troublemaker to pieces. If I made the first move, they’d immediately send me to
meet my Maker. And even if they weren’t strong enough, I’m sure the wizards
would give them a helping hand. Other players wouldn’t just stand aside looking
on, either. Anyone would be eager to earn some XP and boost their Reputation.
“Should
we hire a gondola?” I suggested as Isabella ignored the rentals wharf and
headed for the bridge.
She
snorted. “Is your name Rockefeller or something? You don’t even know their
rates!”
I cussed
under my breath. Immediately an agonizing pain pierced the base of my skull. It
felt as if I’d been pierced with a red-hot poker.
Or had I
been?
I swung
round just in time to see my undead phoenix drop into the canal, struck by an
arrow. My phoenix!
A Drow
archer brandished his bow victoriously and issued a long piercing whistle. A
few passersby applauded his skill.
A crimson
haze filled my eyes.
Firstly,
it hurt. Dammit! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced pain in the
game. Secondly, it had been my pet! Ugly and dead, but mine all the same!
The pain
just wouldn’t subside. A system message appeared at the very edge of my vision,
informing me that I’d been attacked. The city guards had ignored the shooting
entirely. Their protection didn’t extend to covering the dead.
Bunch of
lowlifes.
A wave of
fury surged over me. Still, what
remained of my common sense made me reappraise the situation before launching
an all-out attack. Unfortunately for him, the Drow was only level 28. And he
was alone.
“Hold
this for a moment, Neo,” I handed him the black orcish longsword and stealthed up.
“John!”
Isabella shrieked. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I didn’t
even listen. The Drow had already slung his longbow behind his back and
sashayed toward the rentals wharf, apparently unable to even conceive that
someone might try to attack him in full view of the city guards and other
players.
So he
downed a bird, big deal.
The
archer appeared slim and lanky. He definitely had good Agility numbers. But as
for his Constitution, he’d most certainly given it a miss. I had every chance
of winning in a couple of powerful blows - but had I missed, it could turn into
a painful and protracted fight.
Unwilling
to drag it out, I attacked him with a well-practiced combo.
Downward,
from left to right, then diagonally!
Scythe of Death combo!
The
undulating blade of my flamberge hacked into his right shoulder, slicing
through his fine chainmail and going right through his ribcage with a
surprising ease. It then exited his left flank, sparking on the cobblestones.
The momentum swung me round; I managed to keep my balance at the right moment
without being dumped on my backside.
I raised
my sword again but stopped in full swing. There was no need for another attack.
Player Lucas III is killed!
Experience: +1496 [25 674/28 300]; +1496 [25 718/28 300]
Undead, the level is raised! Rogue, the level is increased!
My single
blow had cleft him in two, leaving me standing over his dead body at the center
of the busy square covered in blood from head to toe. My own blood was boiling
with adrenaline.
And not
just mine. The crowd around me bristled with cold steel. Still, seeing as the
PK mark never appeared over my head, gradually the players began to calm down.
“Have you
got a vendetta going on, you two?” A bearded sorcerer asked me as he
reluctantly deactivated a combat spell already flickering between his fingertips.
“Yeah,
sort of,” I mumbled, stepping back from the pool of blood spreading over the
cobblestones. I swung round and hurried toward the bridge.
The other
players gave me a wide berth. Now they knew better than to stop me. Especially
because the city guards had completely ignored the murder.
“Are you
freakin’ mad?” Isabella hissed.
I
shrugged. My headache had finally subsided; the
flashing system message in the corner of my eye had now disappeared.
“Listen,
Roger,” Isabella addressed the skull topping her staff, “don’t you think our
kitten is completely off his trolley?”
“Give it
a break,” I said, retrieving the black sword from Neo. “He killed my pet bird.
I just repaid him in kind.”
She
cussed and dragged me into some dark side alley. “Wait for me here,” she said.
“If you so much as move, I’ll lop your legs off!”
I wanted
to tell her where to stuff it but reconsidered just in time. It was pointless
trying to aggravate the situation. Instead, I began wiping the Drow blood off
my mask and gloves. There was no way I could get it off my white robes.
”Poor
bird,” Neo sighed. “It was so funny...”
I
shrugged. I hadn’t felt attached to the undead phoenix in the slightest. The
only thing he ever did was squawk. He’d only been good at making noise.
Completely uncontrollable. And this way, I’d avenged him and had even managed
to level up a bit in the process. I was dying to find out what new kind of
undead went after Night Hunter.
Still, I
didn’t have the time to check my stats before Isabella arrived.
“Get
changed,” she ordered, hurling a shapeless gray cloak at me.
The boy
got an identical one in a smaller size. Still, I was reluctant to discard my
white robes. I threw them into my inventory and donned the cloak. “Where to
now?”
“To
hell,” she snapped.
“You seem
to be a bit jumpy today,” I said. “Is it because your negotiations about the
fragment of the Sphere of Souls didn’t go through, or what is it?”
“It’s got
nothing to do with that! Whatever possessed you to pick a fight in full view of
everyone? And what if the Drow had dodged your first blow? You’d be still
dancing with him now!”
“I’d love
to have seen him dodge it,” I smirked as we walked out into the street. “I
stabbed him in the back, didn’t I? Plus I was stealthed.”
“Don’t
speak too soon! There’re amulets for that! And plenty of various Agility skills
you don’t even know about. Oh dammit! I completely forgot who I was talking
to!”
She
strode along the street. I hurried after her. “So what about the Sphere?”
“We’ve
reached a preliminary agreement but I decided not to meet the customer without
you,” she replied, then hurried to add before I could ask her any more
questions, “No! Your story first!”
I heaved
a doomed sigh.
2
THE INN
WHERE Isabella had taken us was situated on the
third or fourth island from the port. There was no direct route there.
Better-off players would go by boat while all the others had to amble down damp
lanes so narrow that two carriages couldn’t pass each other. And whenever I’d
managed to find a shortcut through narrow side passages, I had to elbow my way
through the crowd of like-minded players.
We
crossed a bridge, then another and yet another, then took a ferry across a wide
canal. When at last we turned back to the embankment, I finally protested,
“Wait up!
Why are you going around in circles? Couldn’t we take a more direct road?”
She
stopped and shook her head. “This is Hellspawn Island, private property of the
clan.”
“Oh
really?” I whistled, looking up at a tower dominating the houses, its peaked
roof topped with a dark angel. “The whole island? They must be rolling in it!”
“Let’s
go!”
THE OLD
ARCHER INN occupied the corner building of a busy
crossroads. We took the back door and climbed the stairs to the third floor.
The room wasn’t too spacious but it was a double. In the real world, it would
have slept at least five people. But here, it was only the means of getting a
permanent resurrection point. That worked out cheaper and more convenient than
constantly reentering the game next to one of the Towers of Power.
Do you want to make this rented accommodation your new
login location?
I’d have
loved to, but unfortunately, that option was still blocked for me.
“Neo, go
get some shut-eye,” Isabella motioned the boy toward the other room. When he
was gone, she swung round glaring at me. “What’s wrong with you, kitten?”
I
deactivated Incognito, removed my mask and flashed her a toothy smile. “Why,
what’s wrong with me?”
“Oh,” she
drawled. “My kitten had turned into a
scruffy junk yard cat! My kitten is a tough nut now!”
“Your kitten,” I cringed as I uttered the
word, “just wants to get to the Kingdom of the dead. So what about the Sphere?”
She
slumped onto the bed and crossed one leg over the other, making sure one of her
shapely thighs was in full view. “Tell me what happened to you two. I want to
know everything?”
‘What’s
the point? It’s a waste of time!”
“Go on!”
With a
shrug, I drew both my swords from behind my back and set them in the corner. I
perched myself on the windowsill and looked out into the street. It was already
getting dark. The flood of players heading for the port had eased up. They
unhurriedly strolled around, gawking at shop signs and checking out various
entertainment establishments.
Still, I
knew better than to test my Elven friend’s patience. I gave her a quick run-down
of all my adventures, starting with the necromancer’s attack and the defense of Stone Harbor and ending
with our restoration of the Temple of the Silver Phoenix.
“So you
do have a vendetta,” Isabella said pensively as she listened to my story. “That
could become a problem.”
“That’s
nothing,” I waved her concerns away. “He’ll never find me now. I’ve disabled
map tracking.”
She shook
her head. “Don’t be so sure, kitten. There’re plenty of other ways of tracking
an enemy.”
“Like
what?” I asked rather nonchalantly.
She was
already standing up. “Don’t leave the room. I’m gonna arrange a meeting and
come back for you.”
“A
meeting with whom?” I asked.
The
slamming of the closing door was her only reply.
I didn’t
give a shit. With a shrug, I opened my
stats. I really should use this time to distribute the available points. This
may be just a game but admittedly I couldn’t wait to find out what kind of
undead I’d turn into this time.
Without
much thought, I increased both Strength and Perception. But when I was about to
invest a skill point into Stealth, I froze open-mouthed.
I didn’t
just have one point available. Not two, even. I had a whopping twenty-six
points!
What was
going on?
Could it
have been some kind of error? I decided to check it by increasing Stealth to 15
pt. And just as I was trying to add another one, a new system message flashed up,
Further skill increase will be available after additional training!
Still in
disbelief, I increased Dodge to 15. Ignoring a new message, I opened my character
profile.
John Doe, Executioner, Hangman
Undead. Junior Lich. Level: 25./
Human, Rogue. Level: 25
Experience: [25 674/28 300]; [25
718/28 300]
Strength: 28.
Agility: 27.
Constitution: 24.
Intelligence: 5.
Perception: 14.
Life: 1200.
Endurance: 1300.
Internal energy: 475.
Damage: 216—324.
Covert movement: +15.
Dodge: +15.
Critical damage when attacking in
stealth mode, backstabbing or attacking a paralyzed target.
Professional skills: “Incognito”
(3), “Execution”, “Hangman”.
Fencer: two-handed weapons (3),
weapons in one hand, “Sweeping Strike”, “Powerful blow”, “Power lunge”, “Sudden
blow”, “Accurate Blow”, “Crippling Blow”, “Blind Strike”, “Rapid Strike”.
Creature of the Dark: night
sight, penalty for being in sunlight, Lord of the Dead, Almost Alive, Skin of
Stone +5.
Neutrality: the undead; subjects
of the Lord of the Tower of Decay
Enemies: Order of the Fiery Hand,
the Swords of Chaos clan.
Immunity: death magic, poisons,
curses, bleeding, sickness, cures and blessings.
Achievements: “Dog Slayer” Grade
3, “Tenacious”, “Man of Habit”, “Defender of Stone Harbor” Grade 1.
Wait a
sec. A Junior Lich?
But a
Lich was a dead sorcerer, wasn’t it? How could I possibly be a sorcerer with my
meager 5 pt. Intellect? And where were my old skills, dammit? Where was my
Sprint? And what had happened to my Claws of Darkness?
Suddenly
I knew where all the extra skill points had come from. They had been deducted
from all the deleted skills. Bastards! Give them back!
So this
latest upgrade of my undead status had only served to bring more
disappointment. But what if I was wrong and things weren’t as bad as they
looked?
I opened
my Magic tab. Pointless. I didn’t managed to activate a single spell from the
sorcerer’s book.
Level-1
spells available to study: 0
Dammit!
My penalty to Intellect had left me without any hope of ever using magic. What
was the point in making me a Lich, then?
I walked
over to a mirror on the wall and stared at my reflection. Deathly pallid skin
clung tightly to my skull. My sunken eyes reflected crimson Infernal flames.
Nothing else. The fancy black lines covering my face were now gone, replaced by
magic runes and formulas. Admittedly I looked better for it. But as for the
rest, it had been a change for the worse.
My teeth
were as sharp as before. My nails still resembled claws. But as for my bite, it
no longer could syphon my victims’ Life and Stamina. Also, I’d lost the ability
of stunning an opponent with a single blow. My Night Hunter Sprint was also
gone. And what had I gotten in return? A magic which I couldn’t even use? Shit!
I perched
myself on the windowsill and stared mindlessly out of the window. The evening
street was bustling with revelers. Many of the players weren’t even wearing
either armor or weapons. They’d come to the world of the Towers of Power,
intending to have a good time and be merry.
As for
me, merry wasn’t on the agenda. If the truth were known, I was deep in shit.
Having
said that, as I continued to level up, theoretically I could level up Intellect
to the 10 required pt. I gave it some thought and decided it wasn’t a good
idea. Magic was all well and good but how was I supposed to know what I’d
become at level 60? Did I really want to waste five points only to lose the
ability to use magic later? I didn’t need that!
If the
truth were known, my lich didn’t stand a chance against real wizards while my
level-1 spells were poor protection against a top warrior. The sheer thought
was ridiculous.
What a
predicament!
I heaved
a doomed sigh. I really should start worrying prematurely. After all, if
Isabella managed to secure our participation in the raid on the Kingdom of the
Dead, all my leveling mistakes would become irrelevant. And I knew she could do
it. You could tell just by looking at her she was one pushy lady.
I stopped
torturing myself with bouts of regret and concentrated on my professional
skills. The memory of how long it had
taken me to smoke the immobilized Nest Hunter still smarted. So I increased
Execution, bringing my chances of killing a character whose level was equal to
mine with one blow to 12%.
But that
wasn’t all.
Execution
II
Your firm
hand and sharp eye allow you to strike where your enemy is the most vulnerable!
+4% to your chances of dealing a critical hit
+2% to your chances of dealing a crippling blow
Not bad. Not bad at all. But no more than that.
I breathed a sigh and began studying the Lich’s
abilities. The Skin of Stone was nothing surprising. All it offered was some
additional protection. That wasn’t so bad for a newb but didn’t sound too
serious for a level-50 player. Still, it was better than nothing. It wouldn’t
make things worse, that’s for sure.
The Lord of the Dead was also a rather predictable
skill which allowed you to control the undead. That sounded quite interesting,
the sole problem was that the combined level of the controlled creatures
couldn’t exceed half of that of the Lich.
However, the last of my new skills - “Almost Alive” -
made me scratch my head in puzzlement as I read its description:
“Almost Alive”
You haven’t been dead for very long so you haven’t yet
forgotten what it feels like to be alive. You can fool even the most attentive
observer, but remember: the moment the sun rises, its light will render your
camouflage useless.
Very interesting. So what did that actually mean? That
I didn’t need Incognito anymore?
I stood in front of the mirror and activated my new
skill.
Immediately my face rounded. I got a bit of color back
in my cheeks. My eyes lost their dark fiery glare. That was the extent of it,
though, if you didn’t count my waning internal energy. Anyone who wished to
double-check me could still access my profile which still classified me as
Undead. But not if I used it in combination with Incognito...
The sight of a mask on their companion’s face normally
makes people nervous. But this new skill allowed me to look perfectly alive
without having to use such blatant disguise.
“Neo?” I called, turning to him. “What do you think?”
The boy yawned sleepily. “You’ve changed again, Uncle
John!” he said without hesitation.
I laughed. “You’re dead right there!”
“You’ve changed but you’re still the same!”
“What makes you think so?”
“I just feel it.”
I frowned. “What is it you can feel?”
The kid faltered in hesitation. “I feel you should be
burned at the stake. Sorry, Uncle John.”
I snorted, unable to contain my laughter. “That’s nice
of you!”
I hadn’t expected what happened next. Creaking, the
wardrobe door opened a crack. I could see darkness swirl amid its empty
hangers, blacker and thicker than in the deepest of cellars.
My hand lay on the hilt of my Soul Killer hook. Still,
I didn’t have to use it. The darkness parted, releasing a bird’s scruffy head.
My undead phoenix focused his unseeing white gaze on me.
Then he opened his beak,
“Craaah!”
I cussed in relief. “What a scarecrow!”
The dead phoenix sprang out of the wardrobe and
alighted on the cupboard, his powerful talons leaving deep scratches in the
polished wood.
“The birdie’s
back!” Neo exclaimed excitedly.
“That’s not a bird. It’s a Scarecrow.”
The Black Phoenix opened his beak again, preparing to
emit another ear-rendering squawk. I was getting a bit fed up with it. I threw
a protesting hand in the air - and he froze in place.
“Lord of the Dead!”
I still hadn’t sensed any mental connection with my
pet. Still, my new skill had somehow kicked in. Being an undead, Scarecrow had
fallen under my full control.
“You don’t mean it!” I muttered as I forced open a
creaky window.
The room filled with the noise of the city night.
Obeying my order, the undead Phoenix jumped onto the windowsill, emitted
another shrill squawk and soared into the air.
Strangely enough, I felt as if I was being pulled into
the air after him. The city roofs and the snaking ribbons of the canals flashed
through my mental view. My head spun. Exhausted, I collapsed to my knees.
“Uncle John! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Perfectly fine. I’m all right.”
I managed to stop myself vomiting. It wasn’t that
difficult: after all, my stomach had been empty for quite a long time. I dumped
myself on the bed and leaned my back against the wall. My first attempt at
controlling a flying undead mount had proven not to be too pleasant.
In the meantime, Scarecrow landed onto a neighboring
chimney and began sharpening his beak on the blackened firebricks, casting sarcastic
glances at me. Still, I was absolutely sure I’d be able to bring this
cantankerous bird back under my mental control the moment it was necessary.
Which in turn opened some very interesting avenues...
“Uncle John? I’m hungry!” the boy announced.
I looked first at him, then at the door. Reluctantly I
scrambled back to my feet. “Come on, then.”
I wasn’t sure whether I should take the flamberge with
me. In the end, I left it in the room because it would have been little use in
the narrow corridors of the inn anyway. In case of an attack, I’d be better off
brandishing my Soul Killer.
The door key hung on a nail hammered into the
doorframe. I took it and walked out first. Neo followed. I locked the door and
took the creaky stairs to the bottom floor.
When we’d reached the spacious dining room, empty and
badly lit, I was in for another surprise. The barman - a short stocky
middle-aged guy who stood there toweling beer mugs - turned out to be a player.
My world was blown apart. Why would anyone pay good money
to access virtual reality only to work as an innkeeper, and in such an ungainly
body at that?
“Hi,” I managed, suppressing my surprise.
“Good evening,” the innkeeper replied. He noticed Neo
and raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“A quest,” I explained monosyllabically, as was
quickly becoming a habit. “Can you give him something to eat?”
“Not a problem,” he chuckled, opening his guest book.
“And your names are...”
“We’re with Isabella,” I offered. “The Dark Elfa.”
“That’s right. It’s full board. Take a seat, please.”
I motioned Neo toward one of the tables and stayed by
the bar. I was curious to see if my newly-acquired Almost Alive ability could
conceal my undead nature.
“Only the boy’s eating!” I shouted after him as he
disappeared into the kitchen. “I don’t need anything!”
He peered out of the kitchen, balancing a loaded tray.
“Beer?”
“No, thanks,” I replied. “I still have a business
meeting to attend.”
He gave me a wink. “A business meeting. In the game?”
“Well, it’s not as if you’re hunting dragons either.”
The innkeeper laughed. He set the tray down on the bar
and proffered his hand. “Mark.”
“John,” I replied, prudently keeping my profile
closed.
He smiled. “Nice to meet you, John. Get stuck in,
boy!”
Neo didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed the tray
and carried it to his table.
“I can see you’re curious,” Mark smiled. “You’re
probably asking yourself what’s in it for me, right?”
I looked over the spacious room with its paneled
walls, carved furniture and cartwheels which served as chandeliers. “Well, it’s
a nice cozy place,” I shrugged.
Marked produced a dusty bottle and filled a shot glass
with some acid-green drink. “Nice joke!” he laughed, then downed the weird
drink. He exhaled noisily and added without a trace of merriment, “You’re not
so far from the truth, you know that? This place is indeed cozy. Not
everybody’s into raids and stuff. Some of us would rather have a nice meal and
a glass of wine without having to suffer from hangovers and high blood pressure
afterward. Not to even mention the fact that a night of virtual passion won’t
end up with a visit to the doctors as it sometimes does in the real world. And
even if someone slits your throat, well... it’s only a game, ain’t it?”
I chuckled. It had never occurred to me before that
someone might go virtual simply to continue with their boring little lives.
“You’d be surprised how many people come here just to
check out our brothels and bars. They’re not interested in dragons in the
slightest.”
“How strange,” I murmured. “But still, for you it must
be more than just entertainment?”
He nodded and rubbed his nose which was quickly
turning red after the drink he'd just consumed. “Here, I could finally fulfill
my lifelong dream of opening a small drinking establishment. I’ve invested half
of my pension fund into it and I don’t regret it one bit. I’ve already
recuperated about 40% of it, so returns are quite decent.”
As we spoke, a respectable-looking gentleman in a
black cloak and a wide-brimmed hat appeared at the top of the stairs. A long
rapier hung from his belt: not a serious
weapon really but rather a status item unsuitable for any serious killing. Mark
saluted him. The man nodded, crossed the room and walked outside.
“The place is excellent,” the innkeeper told me. “Lots
of traffic. These days, you just can’t buy something like this for a reasonable
price.”
I allowed myself a quiet chuckle. “It doesn’t look as
if you have to fend new guests off with a stick.”
“Why should I?” he sounded genuinely surprised. “This
isn’t real life. Money works differently here. “Whoever needs a suitable login
point for their needs, has to rent a room. I pay for the server’s capacity and
put the difference into my own pocket. It’s not my thing to offer strip shows
to the public. Don’t get me wrong, they do pay very well. But you can go bust
in no time, too. The locals have seen everything. Competition is stiff. Each
and every one of the local girls is a player. Nobody wants NPCs anymore.
“You don’t mean it.”
He nodded. “Oh yes I do. So why would I need all the
hassle? Everyone should do their own thing.”
“Does that mean that all the local establishments have
been bought up by players?”
“In large city centers, yes, almost all of them,” he
assured me. “There’re certain quotas, of course. Certain places aren’t even put
up for sale. But that’s on the Dark side. The Lighties don’t approve of private
enterprise.”
“Why not?”
“There, they concentrate on players’ interaction with
each other. Things like quests, raids and events. Killing ten orcs, finding
fifty golden lotuses, delivering a hundred messages... I’m exaggerating a bit,
of course, but I personally find it a bit of a rat race. No opium dens or women
of easy virtue for you there. They could lower the age limit to 14 right now if
they wanted to do so and they wouldn’t even have to change a thing!”
I flashed him a polite smile, realizing that Mark’s
unfulfilled real-world dream had also included a grateful listener at the bar.
In the course of our conversation, at least ten people had descended into the
room and left straight away without saying a word to their innkeeper.
“D’you wanna drink?” he offered again.
“I’ll pass.”
He refilled his glass and shook his head. “You know
John, these days, I’d be too scared to invest so much money into the game.”
“Why is that?” I offered the cue he was apparently
waiting for.
He downed his drink and sighed. “Before, I could see
how the strategy of this world was working. And I agreed with it. But now
something weird is going on . You tell me: how could they have axed the Intuit
Project? Just tell me!”
I’d never heard about it before. I told him as much.
“All these little icons and logos flickering before
your eyes,” he explained. “I find them so annoying. They only distract you. At
some point, they were going to completely abandon them and make the
special-ability control entirely intuitive. But somebody in their infinite
wisdom must have deemed it too complicated for an average player. They said it
would take too long to implement and that the contrast with the competition
would be too drastic.”
I nodded pensively. He had a point. I hadn’t seen any
icons in my field of vision for quite a while. How had I managed to activate my
special abilities, then? For me, my inventory was just a bag like any other.
Had I spent too much time in the game? Possible.
Oblivious of my absent-mindedness, Mark continued to
share his reservations with me,
“Sometimes I think that all this confrontation between
the powers of Light and Dark in the game is only the reflection of the confrontation within
its board of directors,” he reached for the bottle and reluctantly put it away
under the counter.
Now he was completely over the top. Unwilling to
listen to any conspiracy theories, I rose from my stool. “I don’t think it’s
possible.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “It may sound crazy if you
don’t know the shareholders list. Half of the shares belong to the game
developers, and the other half is owned by a company who holds the patent for
players' brain data processing algorithm. They may well disagree on the game’s
future.”
I shrugged. “Possibly.”
The innkeeper was about to add something else when the
front door swung open, letting in Isabella.
“Good evening, Ms. Ash-Rizt!” the innkeeper piped up.
She gave him a nonchalant nod. “Kitten?” she motioned
me toward the stairs. “Need to talk.”
“Neo,” I turned to the boy. “Finish your food and go
back up to your room.”
“I’ve already finished!” he replied, running after us.
I caught up with Isabella on the stairway. “And?”
“We’ll talk in the room,” she snapped.
Once we’d got inside and locked the door, she couldn’t
help but reproach me, “I thought I told you not to leave the room?”
“Oh, give it a break,” I waved her concern away as I
deactivated both Incognito and Almost Alive.
My illusionary face fell away, revealing taut skin
stretched over a skull. She recoiled.
“What the hell is th-?” she gasped, stopping mid-word.
“A Lich?”
“A Junior Lich.”
“But how did you-”
“I keep leveling.”
“You’re full of surprises, kitten,” she drawled in
amazement. “A Lich, of all things!”
I shrugged. “So what? A dead necromancer, big deal!”
She shook her head. “Oh no. This is totally different.
Don’t even try to compare death magic and the magic of the undead.”
A long-suffering sigh escaped my chest. The magic of
the undead! I couldn’t even dream of ever learning it. Still, I decided against
sharing my own problems with her. “So, what about the meeting?”
She beamed a smile of self-satisfaction. “Relax,
kitten. We’re expected.”
“When?”
“Right now,” she flashed me a mysterious smile,
delivering the good news. “But first we need to get ready.”
She removed her shapeless cloak. I couldn’t help
letting out a low whistle of surprise. Her armor was trimmed with black patent
leather which made her look extremely sexy. She’d always looked a bit frivolous,
playful even - at least until she turned into a furious harpy - but now she
reminded me of one of those women of easy virtue mentioned earlier by Mark.
“Is kitten into hardcore?” she squinted at me, playing
with her cat o’ nine tails. “I’d make a good dominatrix, trust me!”
“What kind of sick masquerade is this?”
“That’s only part of it,” she licked carnivorously her
brightly painted lips, throwing me a collar and chain. “Try this on.”
“What the hell?”
“Come on, kitten, don’t drag it out! We don’t have much
time until the meeting!”
“But-”
“Put it on!”
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