The Reapers (The Neuro 3)

by Livadny, Andrei

  “Good. I can see you’re smart. As soon as we know their respawn times, we can level up non-stop. We’ll rotate the groups: some will do the farming while the others rest up. That way it might take us a week to study these ruins and bring the combat section’s level to 100. By the way,” White added, “your sword isn’t up to much, is it? It’s too short and too light. All it does is chip away at your opponent’s life and mana. I suggest you change it for a regular longsword.”

  “I need to think about it,” I said.

  “Please do. And please change it soon. I understand you’re used to it. A mysterious cargonite sword, what’s there not to like? Still, each weapon has also a damage stat, and that’s what you should be looking at. It should correspond to your strength and agility. Leave pretty artifact thingies till better times.”

  * * *

  In the meantime, the battle was over. We’d got rid of the first pack, but at what price?

  The warriors’ eyes betrayed unreserved disbelief. When fear creeps into your very heart, that’s the worst thing of all.

  Eric was still sitting on a sunlit hillock, shaking his head. He was as white as a sheet. Raoul was still fussing around him. Still, there was little a healer could do there. The guy needed a shrink.

  I was about to approach him but White beat me to it. He crouched next to Eric and motioned Raoul out of sight.

  Eric was shuddering. This was not a game anymore. The 100% authenticity of the experience had brought back what man of today had long forgotten: his survival instinct.

  “I know how it feels,” White said. “It won’t last. You’ll get used to it.”

  “I don’t think I can stand the pain,” Eric replied in a muffled voice. “Why did I have to have this implant installed! Everything was so good without it.”

  “You can’t change it now.”

  Eric breathed in fast, shallow bursts. “And how do you want me to go on? Those mobs were ripping me apart!”

  “The only thing you can do is level up and prove to yourself that you can do it. It’ll be getting better. When you reach level 90 or so, your pain threshold will rise. You should invest as much XP as you can in stamina. That helps, trust me.”

  “And what am I supposed to do with this?”

  Eric stretched out his hand. His fingers were shaking.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to face a mob again,” he said. “I’m scared I might turn my back on the enemy and run. I’d rather go back to the castle. I could help them restore the wall.”

  “That’s not an option,” White said. “You can’t sit it out behind castle walls. You’ll lose all your self-respect. I don’t think peasants are good company for you. You’re either a warrior or you’re a shriveled body stuck in an in-mode capsule! If you start shrinking from every NPC-”

  “Piss off!” Eric snarled. “What do you know? You’re level one hundred freakin’ thirty! Just leave me alone. I don’t need anyone preaching to me.”

  I though White was going to yell at him but he didn’t. The warm breeze ruffled his silver-gray crew cut. His armor glinted in the sun. Without saying a word, he looked around, saw Raoul and motioned him to approach, then asked him about something.

  Raoul’s face changed. Still, he nodded and offered White a couple of vials of healing potions.

  “Alex, Enea, Christa, I want you to stay out of it,” White said.

  He removed his laminated armor and replaced it with a light and supple Elven chainmail shirt. Then he headed down the slope toward the ruins lying to the right of our route.

  Enea looked worried. “Where is he going?”

  “I don’t know, do I?”

  “Alex, we need to go with him,” Christa said.

  Her incredibly high level had prevented her from participating in the fight. She’d joined the raid as emergency backup in case things went fatally wrong.

  “No we don’t,” I snapped. “You heard him. We should stay out of it.”

  Eric sat up, watching White. We too followed his progress with bated breath. Enea squeezed my hand, restless.

  The vegetation stirred. White slowed down and took a double-handed grip on his sword.

  Something flashed brightly amid the greenery. We all heard the sound of splintering wood on the ruins’ second floor. Four burly warriors in crystal armor dropped to the ground.

  Level 135! Higher than White’s!

  Their charmed quartz shields reflected the sunlight. The blades of their weirdly curved swords were serrated which meant they were specially designed to deal Bleed.

  A shiver ran down my spine. Enea clutched my hand so hard that her nails dug into my skin.

  “Arwan, keep an eye on them but stay out of it for the time being,” I said.

  The Elf drew his bow and froze, ready to loose off an arrow at a moment’s notice.

  My mind expander ran an automated search and offered up a meager result,

  Guardians of the Ruins. The descendants of Ferrigan’s Guards.

  Ferrigan: the old Lord of the Hundred Isles.

  They attacked simultaneously. The curved crystal blades of their swords glistened in the sun, tracing blurred combos through the air.

  With an enviable cool, White rolled out of their deadly circle and dealt a powerful blow to one of the Guards’ back, stripping him of 30% Life.

  Cascades of crimson crystal flew everywhere. By then, White was already out of their reach and restoring in a defensive stance.

  Why hadn’t he taken the shield? This was something I couldn’t understand.

  Three of the Guards resumed their attack. The fourth was lagging behind now, limping. A slow trickle of viscous blood ran down his sliced flank, dripping onto his greave. The wound system was quite realistic in the Crystal Sphere.

  White’s lips moved. He shifted his sword to his right hand. A spell aura enveloped his left one, covering his fingers in a glistening mass of snowflakes bound together with streaks of darkness.

  In a precise, well-practiced motion White smeared the glistening magic substance onto his sword blade. He then lunged unexpectedly at an attacking guard.

  A crust of frost covered the guard’s shield. It exploded.

  The two others dropped to the ground, trying to get to White from below. The Dark Knight rolled out of their reach, sprang to his feet and swung round, once again changing the grip on his sword to both hands. He then stopped his opponents with a series of powerful slashing blows, forcing them to back off.

  In the meantime, the wounded guard had changed his weapon. He was now holding a long crystal spear with a glittering tip. He attacked White unexpectedly, piercing his left shoulder.

  Enea cried out.

  Archie dashed to his rescue but stopped as White had already hacked the shaft through, sprang backwards toward the vine-covered wall and gulped a quick healing elixir. The spear tip slid out of his wound which healed straight away, the hole in his chainmail shirt the only reminder of his injury.

  The Guardians of the Ruins lost their patience and went for White, attempting to corner him. He grabbed at the thick woody vines, climbed to the second floor, whipped out his bow and loosed off several arrows, aiming at the guardians’ heads.

  This sudden demonstration of his cool, strength and agility left a deep impression on everyone. My back was bathed in cold sweat.

  Having exhausted and seriously wounded the four guardians, White was now nowhere to be seen.

  “Did he get cold feet?” one of the warriors murmured.

  “Shut up,” another one snapped. “What a dumb question. You’ve no idea what it’s like when you’re attacked by fours enemies at once.”

  He was right. I could never understand those who plunged headlong into combat. On the few occasions that I’d been attacked by two or three opponents at once, they didn’t give me the chance to parry their blows, let alone fight back. In a situation like that, a tactical retreat wasn’t shameful. It’s way better than getting yourself killed just because you thought too much
of yourself.

  The vines stirred ever so slightly in a couple of places as White slid along the upper floor toward a collapsed window.

  The guardians crowded below, peering at a hole in the vine cover. Their lives were at 50%. Finally, two of them separated from the rest and went on a flanking maneuver.

  As they walked under the collapsed window, White jumped onto them from above, performing a classic Falling Blow and removing what was left of their hp in one merciless swing of his sword.

  Immediately he attacked the remaining two, barreling in between them in a long spiraling motion.

  One of the two guards slumped to the ground. The other managed to shield himself but lost his balance and received a crashing coup de grace combo.

  A golden aura enveloped White. He’d received a new level!

  * * *

  White returned to us exhausted.

  He perched on a small grassy ledge in the shade of the cliffs. “Everyone can stand pain for a minute or two,” he said without addressing anyone in particular. “As long as you can avoid respawning, that’s fine. You should always keep some healing potions on you.”

  “That’s cheating,” Eric grumbled.

  He wasn’t a newb, either. He must have realized that White couldn’t have achieved such exorbitant strength and agility without sacrificing some of his other characteristics.

  “It’s not cheating. That’s called smart leveling,” White replied calmly. “Plus some unique items. Jewelry mainly. This,” he twirled a cargonite ring round his finger, “gives you +10% to both Strength and Agility. Which make my blows stronger and faster and my rolls longer. And thanks to this,” he touched a signet ring on his index finger, “I can cast spells without disrupting my attacks. It can be very handy in battle when you can heal yourself or cast Frost on your sword.”

  “How much did you pay for them?” Archie asked.

  “I won them in battle. Which is why we are here now,” White withdrew a water flask from his belt and took a sip.

  “Why did you change your armor for the chainmail?” Eric rejoined the conversation.

  “Don’t you understand?”

  “Not really.”

  “It’s the weight. The lighter your gear, the better your agility, the longer your rolls. I always have two gear sets on me. In my opinion, when you have to fight four opponents at once, mobility is more important than protection. Still, it’s something everyone has to decide for themselves. I probably could have done it in full armor, I suppose.”

  I didn’t interfere. Firstly, because White knew what he was talking about. We all could learn a lot from him. And secondly, because he needed to establish authority quickly. I could see he was with us to stay. Still, his short temper might prevent him from endearing himself to people.

  Enea calmed down and began casting glances at the lagoon. “Would be so nice to get there,” she said wistfully. “I’ve never seen such ships in my life. I’d love to take a closer look.”

  She just couldn’t live without new adventures, could she?

  “We will,” I said, “but probably not straight away.”

  “Can’t we get to it from here?”

  “I don’t think so. Normally, cliffs mark locations’ borders. If we don’t come across a ravine, it might take us a long time to get there.”

  “You know how to raise a girl’s hopes,” she smiled despite her disappointment. Her lust for life filled us with optimism, too.

  “I could try and fly over there,” Christa offered, admiring the lagoon. “I’ll need to change back into the demon, though.”

  “I suggest you wait. It’s too risky,” I said. “You might not be able to cross by air, anyway. I already tried to cast a teleport within direct line of sight and it didn’t work. Let’s not tempt Providence. It’s better we try and find a road that can take us there.”

  In the meantime, White had changed back into his armor.

  I looked over my raid members. They’d cheered up a little. Many of them seemed to like what White had just said.

  “Archie,” I turned to him, “I want you to go back to Rion and form three more groups. We’ll be farming this place 24/7 while advancing bit by bit. You should also pick a few peasants and Elven hunters. Let them come here and start settling in.”

  He nodded and headed for the portal while we walked toward the freshly-purged ruins. We needed to collect the loot and take a good look around.

  * * *

  The two-story structure had once been built with some sort of brown-tinged stone which hadn’t aged well. Judging by the sheer number of archways, it must have once been surrounded by shady terraces. Their tiled roofs had long since gone, replaced by a canopy of prickly vines. The paving stones of the inner yards had caved in, with tufts of grass growing between them.

  Platinus was highly interested in the vines. A lot of them had suffered during White’s fight with the Guardians. Platinus got busy collecting the sap that dripped from the plants’ deep wounds.

  The four Guardians had dropped a full set of crystal armor, two of their strange curved swords and a quartz shield.

  “Would you like it?” White asked. “I don’t need any of this. I’m too used to my current gear.”

  Formally he wasn’t a clan member yet. He’d defeated the guardians in solo combat — which meant all of the loot belonged to him.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to send the armor back to the Clan’s treasury,” I said. “I’d like to study it.”

  Our acquisitions were undoubtedly useful but they required level 100+. The crystal swords were even worse: they needed one hell of agility.

  Enea looked around. “So what were they guarding here?”

  Obeying her command, Alpha flitted off her shoulder and disappeared into the thick vegetation.

  “At the time, the Yonder Isles were famous for their crystal mines, jewelry shops and rare plants,” Lethmiel’s voice said.

  Even though Lethmiel hadn’t come with us, he still advised us via the clan chat. “Ferrigan’s Guards were considered unbeatable,” he continued. “Their descendants probably weren’t as strong but still no one would have posted guards to a ruin if there was nothing to guard there.”

  “In this case, I suggest we stay here for a while and check it properly.”

  We posted a few sentries outside and began inspecting the ruin.

  Nothing. No ancient items nor secret stashes with treasure boxes inside.

  “That’s impossible! You must be missing something,” Lethmiel’s voice sounded in the chat. The game developers had made his character so adaptable that no amount of new technical gizmos could throw him. All of the high-tech novelties such as long-distance communications, the castle control interface or market transactions that could move your stock from one warehouse to the next in the blink of an eye — he simply explained all of it away with magic.

  “Alexatis,” he said, “may I leave my duties for a couple of hours and join you?”

  “Why, are you so curious?”

  “I can be useful. I need to take a look at those ruins. I’m pretty sure there must be some mystery surrounding them.”

  “Very well, then,” I said.

  While we waited for Lethmiel, the first groups formed by Archie walked through the portal and joined us. Iskandar hurried toward them: all of the combat section wizards were under his direct command.

  My first impressions from our ‘unsealing’ of the Yonder Isles were admittedly exciting. Still, the question that worried me most was the location of the tower where Borisov had been hiding. The map-making app continued to point at a certain point nearby which was completely covered with the Mist of War.

  Enea, Christa, White and myself walked out of the ruins and climbed higher up the hill.

  Unfortunately, there were no high cliffs around, otherwise I’d have already been taking pictures of the area from one of them. Shame.

  “Rodrigo, why didn’t you launch a single Magic Eye?” I asked.

 
“We tried but it didn’t work. They disintegrate a couple seconds after launch. No idea what’s causing it. I’m working on it.”

  “Alexatis, would you like me to check out the area?” Christa offered, understanding the reason behind my nervousness.

  “As a demon?” I asked. “Why not? I think it’s a very good idea. Here are the coordinates. Try to climb as high as you can and follow the marker. Okay?”

  “Not a problem. Mind stepping back for a sec, all of you? My transformation is a weapon in itself.”

  Good job she’d warned us.

  Christa didn’t look that different from any other girl. I still couldn’t understand how she’d managed to change her character class, preserving the possibility of transforming back into her Infernal shape while getting rid of every demonic trait in her everyday appearance.

  Clouds of gray haze swirled around her. Three circles of black flames rose into the air, weaving and overlapping each other. The grass surrounding them wilted.

  Runes glowed brightly.

  Christa’s form blurred, momentarily dissipating into an ashen mist. Then it reappeared, towering menacingly a good head above all of us.

  Her infernal combat avatar spread its webbed wings, releasing a powerful wave of dark energy which ran all along the slope until it hit our raid shield and dissipated into thin air. I managed to glean the wave’s stats. The power of it! To an unprepared onlooker, this discharge could have become lethal.

  In the meantime, Christa’s metamorphosis was complete.

  Her awesome new form was enveloped in gloom. In one effortless wingbeat, the girl rose into the air. She must have been using Levitation, that’s for sure. At these authenticity levels, you had to possess one hell of a strength and agility to be able to hover in the air. Christa did it with a surprising ease, betraying no effort whatsoever.

  She banked in a wide circle, spiraling into the sky while streaming us the picture.

  From above, the portal looked like a tiny spot surrounded by insect-like raid members.