It was a Harvester’s body mangled beyond all recognition.
“Reapers aren’t welcome here, are they?” Archie exclaimed. “I just wonder why he died without bringing all these NPCs under his control?”
“Because he had no leverage against them,” Enea replied. “Didn’t you hear what Lethmiel said? Ferrigan’s wizards had been blinded by false pride when they created their artifacts. Because of that, their creations had awoken all the basest urges in them. The Harvester simply had nothing which was bad or nasty enough to offer them!”
“Which also explains why Bors decided to escape to this particular island,” Christa said.
“In that case, how did the mercenaries manage to battle their way through?” Iskandar asked.
I chuckled. “Reapers can’t compete with human nature. We’re much more stubborn and inventive. A group of well-trained players who weren’t too squeamish about back-stabbing or distance attacks could have fought their way to the tower, I suppose. Iskandar, I want you to send a Magic Eye to the tower. Archie, frisk the bodies. You might find something, you never know. Enea, I’d like you to stock up on Nature’s energy for your abilities. We just don’t know what lies ahead.”
My map-making app promptly used the data received from the Eye to create a local map.
The shortest possible route was completely blocked with high-level NPCs. But if we took to the right, we would only have to tackle six of them whom we could aggro one by one.
I laid an optimal route and forwarded the updated maps to the others.
“Alex, take a look,” Archie offered me two items: a small cracked ball made of some sort of crystal and a cargonite ruby ring darkened with time.
Heart of Evil. Made by Dietrich, the First Reaper.
Durability: 0
Aha. So Dietrich hadn’t in fact made it. This was another Soul Trap, a Corporate artifact which Dietrich must have adapted for Harvesters in order to transport neurograms.
This one, however, was damaged and absolutely useless.
I focused on the ring.
A Bloody Eye. A unique item made by Yite, a Master Jeweler.
Absorbs the opponent’s health by detracting from the wearer’s physical defense.
Not a good item at all. We could use it, I suppose, but we would have to handle it with ultimate care. It didn’t specify how much physical defense it detracted from its wearer nor how much of their opponent’s health it thus absorbed. We could only find that out by trial and error – and now definitely wasn’t the right moment for dangerous experiments like these.
I showed the items’ properties to all the others.
“Bastard,” White said, disappointed. “These rings come with strings attached. We need to study them in a quiet moment.”
“We’re now going to fight our way through to the tower,” I said. “We’ll be smoking the mobs one by one as a group. No solo artists, please.”
* * *
Half an hour later, we’d finally killed the last guard and walked out of the jungle.
We’d made two more levels and farmed three more unique rings. All of them had some positive properties even though they all harbored an element of the ancient curse inside. We hadn’t received any armor this time: the undead had been wearing it for so long that it had long fused with their shriveled flesh.
A monumental structure built with slabs of granite towered over the ancient ruins long consumed by the jungle. Oechis, once a prosperous trading city, had fallen victim to its denizens’ insatiable pride.
The wall around it had mostly crumbled away. The small marble square beyond it was deserted. A fountain at its center depicted four mythical creatures cut from large chunks of obsidian.
A wide staircase took us to the terraced layers of the Governor’s palace, their tiled terracotta roofs gaping with holes.
The tower lay to the right of the castle. Apparently, it used to make up part of the palace’s fortifications.
The marble square was perfectly quiet. I’d been worried we might encounter a large number of warriors here but that didn’t seem to be the case. We could walk about freely. Some of the marble tiles were marred with round burn marks, still fresh — most likely, left by the recent combat between Bors and his pursuers.
Wary of archer snipers’ attack, we hurried to cross the open space. Still, the surrounding buildings too seemed to be deserted.
The dark entrance to the tower gaped open. Its doors had been smashed from their hinges, the masonry around them damaged. A wide spiral staircase led upwards.
White raised a warning hand.
Now I could see why the square was deserted. The tower’s ground floor was littered with bodies clad in crystal armor. I noticed three more avatars of mercenaries among them. They must have put up one hell of a desperate fight. Still, the battle had been too unequal.
“What are their respawn times, do you know?” Iskandar nodded at the undead.
A barely visible aura surrounded their bodies. I used my Neuro ability to read its stats. “I don’t think they’re going to respawn any time soon.”
“Are they dead for good?” White asked.
“No, but they’re in suspended animation caused by an uncategorized respawn-blocking aura.”
“Do you think Bors did it?”
“I’m sure. I can’t read all of the spell’s properties. It’s restricted-use. I’ve already had to deal with similar ones. This is the kind of spell used by the defective mobs squad.”
White perked up. “In that case, we’re on the right track. I’ll go first.”
He stepped onto the spiral staircase.
* * *
Contrary to our heart-chilling expectations, we discovered no enemy on the second floor. Unfortunately, Bors wasn’t there, either.
We immediately came across the room we’d seen when we’d tried to activate that portal scroll. It was in fact the only room on the entire floor.
Someone must have put up a desperate fight here. The floor was covered in caked blood. More blood was splattered on the room’s walls. The dead orc’s avatar lay on the floor amid splintered pieces of furniture.
The bodies of three more mercenaries lay in the corridor outside. One of them was completely charred, the other two must have been slain by the crystal warriors. We’d found nine of those, all immobilized by the same uncategorized respawn-blocking spell.
“Bors must be here somewhere,” White said.
“What makes you think so?” Enea asked.
“Why would you block their respawns if you’re planning to leave soon? It makes no sense. He could have used the respawned guards to divert the mercenaries. You know what I think? Bors must have realized he was fighting an unequal battle. He must have pitted the guards and the mercs against each other, then taken cover somewhere in the tower, planning to come out once they’d smoked each other.”
“In which case, where is he?”
“We need to find him. If he made this place his hideout, he must have prepared some getaway route as well as a safe place to lie low for a while if necessary.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s take a look around. Arwan, I want you to stay here and keep an eye on the stairs. Let us know if somebody arrives.”
It took us about ten minutes to search the floor. Pointless. No sign of Bors anywhere.
I was toying with the idea of climbing up onto the roof to see if Bors could have gotten across to the nearby building when Iskandar’s voice called out,
“Over here! I’ve found a secret passage!”
He seemed to be right. A section of the wall where he was standing looked slightly different from the rest. Still, how were we supposed to get inside this secret room?
Archie tried what looked like the most straightforward method. He pulled a battle hammer out of his inventory and tried to break through the brickwork.
As if!
“We should be looking for some prompts,” I said. “Let’s check the floor again.”
After so
me time, we came back to the secret door. None of us had managed to find a hidden lever or any other mechanism that might open it. We’d tried all the torch holders but they were all bolted tight to the walls. The masonry didn’t contain any conspicuous stonework. In other words, we hadn’t found any of the usual gaming prompts.
“Could it be opened with a special word?” Christa suggested.
“Or a skill?” Enea added.
I mentally rummaged through all the available options. I had that particular spell... what was it called, Illusion Breaker? I hadn’t used it for ages. Ever since my arrival in the Crystal Sphere, I’d never had the chance to come across any phantom opponents summoned by dangerous warlocks.
“Why not?” I said. “I’m gonna try it.”
It worked!
Part of the wall turned out to be an illusion.
A short vaulted corridor opened up before us.
White lit up a torch and stepped into the dark.
* * *
A steel door opened with a creak.
Torchlight cast long shadows across a small room.
Bare stone walls. No furniture. A heap of rotting straw on the floor.
“Mr. Borisov! Bors!” I hurried toward a human body crouched in a corner.
He was covering his head with his hands, muttering unintelligibly. His clothes were soaked in blood. The air was rancid with the stench of his festering wounds.
I’d never experienced anything so graphic before.
White crouched next to him and brought the torch closer for me to see.
Bors’ life bar was barely glowing. An amulet on a delicate chain hung from his clenched fingers.
“Raoul, help him!”
As Raoul tried to heal Bors and bring him round, I took a better look at the amulet.
Respawn Blocking Amulet. Property of the Defective Mob Squad. Uncategorized.
Permanent effect: blocks respawns of all players and NPCs within 300 ft.
Restriction: Only for Corporation workers.
“I’ve healed him but it doesn’t look good,” Raoul said.
“What’s up?”
“He’s lost his mind,” White said, watching drool trickle from the corner of Bors’ mouth. “They must have damaged his neural matrix. Do you remember the microchipped dagger the orc had? I hadn’t believed it then but he must have been right. His dagger could release the victim’s identity.”
“Iskandar, I want you to go back and search all the bodies,” I said, then leaned over Bors.
We’d invested too much hope into finding him. We had too many questions that needed answers. Besides, I was just plain sorry for him.
“Bors, can you hear me?”
Slowly he raised his head. His vacant gaze slid listlessly across the room. “I haven’t... given them anything they could use... The human race is in danger... Contact... Phantom Server... They can help... provided they’re still alive...”
His gaze faded. His head hung to one side.
Phantom Server. No idea what it could be. I’d only heard the word a couple of times. Some sort of project. Nothing I could use.
That was it, then. We had no answers. No help coming from anywhere. The last sinew still connecting us to the real world had been severed.
Quest alert: Mysterious Wizard. Quest modified!
Think of a way to help Bors restore the abilities he lost in his fight against the Reapers’ mercenaries.
New quest alert: Phantom Server!
Find out more about this mysterious project and its participants.
Deadline: None
Reward: a new survival resource in the dying world.
As I read the messages, Iskandar returned.
“I haven’t found the microchipped dagger,” he said. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
By now, Bors’ wounds had already healed. His physical health was fine. He stared fixedly past us, irresponsive.
“Very well. Take him and let’s go back to Rion.”
Chapter Seven
The Crystal Sphere
The village of Warblerford
IT HAD BEEN A WEEK since our Oechis trip.
All that time, I’d been starting every morning with a visit to Warblerford to check on the rapid construction of our defensive positions.
The weather had been fair all week. Still, the river’s flat opposite bank was enveloped in mist and overhung with dark low clouds which brought occasional gusts of freezing wind to our side.
A low rumbling noise came from the other bank as the digital catastrophe kept gaining momentum. I could barely make out a few abandoned log cabins through the frosty haze generated by the testing grounds’ defense mechanisms in their futile attempts to stop the defective mobs.
The bank on our side was steep and riddled with ravines, with streams running along their clay beds.
We’d been working 24/7. We’d quickly used up all the logs stacked up by the future bridge. Axes kept hacking in a large mixed forest which lay between the fields and the moors’ edge. Peasants worked hard felling trees and cleaning them of branches. They then fashioned the trunks into sharp stakes which they dragged or carted off to the bank.
The current here was strong enough to carry our enemy further downstream. That considered, we had to build almost a mile’s worth of fortifications.
We dug the stakes in along the water’s edge, pointing them out toward the flow of the river. Overhead on the clifftop, wicker shields were being set up with a layer of earth piled up between them as a defense against arrows.
We’d engaged the Elements of Earth and Water to deepen the river bed. They’d done an excellent job even though this was belt-and-braces, really. I doubted very much the Reapers would use the old ford which was too narrow for a comfortable crossing.
Day after day, we continued to strengthen our positions. The support wizards worked hard memorizing the spells I’d found in the ancient manuscripts. Calligraphers were busy copying scrolls which Lethmiel then charged in the Hall of the Elements and sealed with a special seal I’d given him.
Platinus had come up with a whole arsenal of combat potions. His vials were delivered to the bank by the crateful and distributed to the warriors in wide multi-pocketed belts that our leather workers had fashioned for the occasion.
We’d soaked the wooden stakes in fortifying formulas. Magic was everywhere; the air itself seemed to be pregnant with it.
Back in the castle, restoration works were in full swing. We’d already rebuilt the outer perimeter and were now deepening the many channels surrounding the island. We’d closed the guest portal for the time being.
Enea had planted the seeds of the Khmor tree within the castle walls. They had sprouted the very next day. Now a whole alley of young trees lined the alley from the main gates to the Shrine of Nature.
We’d posted all the information we had on the Reapers at every forum, constantly reminding the other players of the looming invasion.
Quite a few of them had responded. The popularity of the Agrion cluster had peaked when hundreds of users from all over the Crystal Sphere had logged in to Warblerford to witness the preparations for the upcoming global event.
Most of them had chosen to stay with us. We didn’t have a single empty house left; the village inn and the market by the ford were busy again. Small impromptu camps were mushrooming everywhere. Quite a few players must have considered the “Reapers’ phenomena” as a new update courtesy of the devs.
It was getting hot here.
* * *
The Crystal Sphere
The Lost Island
“Alex, they’re coming! Reaper groups are on the move! Harvesters sighted on the river bank!”
I was in the library of the Temple of Oblivion when this alarming report had come in. For the last few days, I’d been researching the ancient manuscripts looking for any spells that might help us stop the Reapers.
“Full clan alert! Bring the raid back! Contact the Ravens and tell them to march out to join
us!”
While I was scooping up the scrolls and sealing some of them with magic seals (so that they could go off automatically), heavy footsteps resounded overhead.
“Greetings, O Nymph!” Yorm’s voice echoed through the temple.
“Hi, Yorm!”
“Why did you bring a demon?”
“Yorm, I want you to meet Christa. She’s very nice.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself! Telling lies to old Yorm! A demon can’t be nice!”
“This one can. Trust me. You’re a cannibal yourself, aren’t you? Admit it,” Enea sometimes reminded the troll of his old food preferences if he refused to listen.
Yorm sighed. “Well, only occasionally...”
“But you are nice, aren’t you?” she continued. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have been my friend. Is there such a thing as a nice cannibal?”
“Oh yes there is!” Yorm stomped his foot, completely confused. The temple shuddered.
“Don’t be so angry. You promised to go fighting with us, remember?”
“Fighting? Oh yes! With pleasure!”
“But you can’t go out into the sunlight, can you?”
“No, I can’t! Yorm can’t do that! He will turn to stone!”
“Well, that’s why Christa is here. She will cast a Veil of Gloom on you so that sunlight can’t harm you anymore. Do you agree to that?”
The troll grew restless. “Will I still be able to see? Gloom is when it’s dark, isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry. Just trust me. Okay?”
“Very well. Will you please come and hold my hand?”
“Oh, no. Sorry but I can’t. If I do, the dark magic won’t work. Just close your eyes if you’re scared.”
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