Borisov wasn’t showing any progress. Physically he was perfectly fine. Still, he would neither talk to us nor answer any questions. He ambled about the castle like a ghost.
The testing grounds’ defense mechanisms continued to chase after the Reapers. In doing so, they destroyed everything in their path, even changing the terrain itself. Entire regions had fallen into desolation. The only place which still preserved some vegetation was Rion Castle, and then only thanks to our Shrine of Nature and the Elemental protection supported by the energy of the runes. A strip of greenery about a mile wide encircled the castle.
The surviving patches of the moors were now covered in a great variety of magic vines which stood in the Reapers’ way, blocking their advance.
At night, thousands of fires glowed around the castle. Anywhere you turned, you could see Dietrich’s army camps.
To him, our citadel was both a coveted prize and a reminder of his defeat. A few times we’d glimpsed him from afar: the First Reaper, surrounded by his retinue of top-level riders about a third of whom were Harvesters and all the others, hybrids.
Slowly but mercilessly, the ring around Rion kept tightening.
We received bad news from other places. The situation was changing rapidly — and unfortunately, not in our favor. Reapers were everywhere now.
All the trade routes had been discontinued. Even the auction had stopped working, not to mention other in-game services.
The game’s economy had collapsed. The NPCs’ behavior had become unpredictable. The epic “conflicts of old” invented by the game’s script writers as part of the world’s history had all of a sudden come to the forefront as NPCs had begun to believe them, considering them part of their own past. The rest you can imagine.
The dwarves had left Rion and returned to their underground cities as their old feud with the Dark Elves had suddenly escalated, threatening to grow into a fully-blown war.
We — and by this I mean all human beings, whether players or game developers — we’d created an entire universe populated by multiple races. Then we’d introduced neural technologies. We were way too naïve in our assumptions that a system like that wasn’t going to trigger a wave of sporadic self-evolution.
Now the thousands of little things we’d either overlooked or disregarded as irrelevant had finally fallen into a single pattern, creating the kind of developments whose consequences we could never have conceived in our worst nightmares.
Very soon the Crystal Sphere might metamorph into something entirely different: a brave new world which would start again from scratch. There was no one left to forecast the upcoming events; no script writers to invent new plot lines. If we failed to defeat the enemy, we too would vanish into history. In which case, the next history book would be written by self-evolving NPCs while human beings would become part of the local folklore.
At the moment, the Reapers were stubbornly trying to battle through the moors toward the castle. Luckily, we kept repelling their attacks.
Dietrich was probably furious right now. Our defenses were way out of his league. His groups were busy trying to feel us out, looking for our weak spots. They engaged in petty scuffles with the goblins who’d taken cover in the “green strip”, all the while waiting for our stocks to deplete.
They wanted to starve us out.
They didn’t know about the portal connecting the castle with the Yonder Isles. Every morning, groups of peasants and Elven hunters walked through it to return in the evening with generous game and basketfuls of fruit.
Currently, our confrontations were limited to the moors. We used every opportunity to raid the enemy’s camps. The hard times and especially the return of their totem had reconciled the goblin tribes with us. Although they kept a low profile, they never missed a chance to play nasty tricks on the Reapers or lend a helping hand to our raiders.
* * *
Today I lingered at the castle’s outer defense lines longer than usual. First, I’d supervised the trebuchet teams which were busy range-finding. By the time they were finished, it was already dusk: time for me to work on my Observation Skills. I tried to practice a little every day, honing my Twilight Vision and learning to expertly control Magic Eyes, using this practice time to inconspicuously read the enemy’s data and forward it to Stephen for analysis.
I’d made level 124 during the Battle of Warblerford. I also had three new abilities in the Neuro development branch which had opened “ahead of schedule” due to the emergency.
The Founders’ Successor
You’ve perfected the control of your mind to the point where you’ve successfully managed to keep it together, saving your identity from disintegration.
This ability will allow you to train others in the basics of the Neuro development branch. It will also enable you to stabilize your allies’ identity matrices in case of emergency. Cooldown: 1 hr.
Every new ability level you receive will shorten the cooldown time by 5 minutes. Once you reach level 5, you’ll be able to create a Shield of Reason spell and copy it to a scroll.
Spell Building
You’ve used your Spell Interception ability to study various schools of magic and their practices. Your knowledge of Synergy as well as your mastery of Elemental Control will now allow you to combine the elements of various spells in order to build your own. You can, for instance, create an illusion capable of dealing Elemental damage.
Every new ability level you receive will increase both the duration and the effects of the spells you build.
Steel Mist
You’ve mastered the long-lost magic practice of substance manipulation.
Whenever mortal danger threatens you, select a gear item of your choice which will disintegrate, its particles forming a damage-absorbing spherical shield around you.
Cooldown: 1 hr.
Every new ability level you receive will improve the damage-absorbing properties of the Steel Mist while also increasing its duration.
I’d been practicing these new abilities for a while. I used every opportunity to copy ancient artifacts (rings mainly) and had leveled up Shield of Reason, bringing it up to 10. I’d also learned to build my own spells and practiced the Steel Mist ability which was so admittedly unusual for a fantasy world.
Life in Rion didn’t stop at sunset. The townsfolk (because you couldn’t call them peasants anymore, really) continued building their houses by torchlight, using the slabs of magic stone left over after the restoration of the castle walls.
I found White in the assault course set up within the second ring of walls where he was busy drilling our freshly-formed rapid response groups.
I switched the Magic Eye to autonomous mode and watched the guys training. They worked hard. You could actually see them joining the clan’s elite. The dropout rate in their groups was high, with a discipline to match. Still, White wasn’t forcing anyone to join his group or become multiclass.
Most experienced gamers had already adapted to their implants. They’d received our best cargonite gear and bespoke rings crafted by yours truly which allowed them to use non-combat skills and abilities.
Each of them had customized their standard gear as best they could with different paints and colors. Every one of them had his or her own unique combat style — but the moment they had to work as a team, they became a fine-tuned single mechanism.
A signal sent by the Magic Eye distracted me from the scene. Apparently, the device had been circling a particular spot for a while.
Beyond the sparsely wooded area surrounding the castle lay a patch of rough wasteland riddled with ravines. This was how most of the Crystal Sphere looked these days. Wastelands like this were all that Reapers left in their wake.
I noticed a crooked, gnarly figure cowering in one of the ravines. I took a better look.
A forest sprite. And not just any old forest sprite but an old friend of mine. This was Forrest, of all creatures! I’d met him a couple of times but never accepted any of his quests. I’d been too
busy at the time.
Forrest was a popular figure in these parts of the world. He lived on the edge of the moors next to Warblerford. His main task was issuing simple quests to newbs — but that wasn’t what he was famous for. It was his remarkable vulnerability to fire damage that made him fair game for novice wizards — as well as the inordinate amount of XP you could get for smoking him.
A swordsman could try and fight him in vain until he was blue in the face — but even the weakest of wizards could finish Forrest off in under two minutes with just a handful of fireballs.
Had he become a Reaper too? Had he jumped at his chance to wreak revenge on all the players who’d used to kill him dozens of times a day?
In that case, why was he cowering in the ravine, playing dead and pretending he was just a dried-up piece of driftwood every time the Reapers’ patrols walked past?
Something wasn’t right there.
I maneuvered the Eye lower. Although it was already dark, my Twilight Vision ability allowed me to make out the outlines of two players skulking in the shadows next to him.
Their avatars were weird. One of the two resembled a cyborg, of all things. The other was a petite girl clad in light Kevlar armor, the kind normally worn by Corporation security staff.
I had a funny feeling I’d seen her before. Still, I couldn’t be too sure in the dark.
The players definitely seemed to be trying to get to the castle but couldn’t get past the Reapers’ camp.
We had to help them. They couldn’t lie in hiding forever. If a Harvester chanced anywhere near, they were toast. Those monsters could sniff out a player from a mile away.
“White, I think you should call it a day, man,” I said. “We need a combat group ready for a sortie.”
“Coming,” he replied.
Almost instantly, a portal flashed open next to me.
“What’s up?” White asked.
“Take a look,” I granted him access to the video.
“Two players,” he said. “They seem to be hiding from the Reapers. I don’t think they can get past their camp. We’ll need two groups: one as a diversion and the other to pull them out.”
“You think we can do that?”
“Oh, absolutely. I’ve been thinking of testing the guys in the field. Too many people are still pretty depressed after what happened in Warblerford. We need a clean victory.”
“We’re not ready to face their army yet,” I said.
“I know. Still, we need to teach them a lesson. Put the fear of God into them. And now we have a perfectly good excuse. Can you see those marquees to the left of the ravine?”
“Yeah. I’ve been wondering about them.”
“These are probably some of their command staff,” White said. “You think we could cast a portal over there?”
“There’re at least five Harvesters nearby.”
“Yes, I can see them. But if we buff our guys properly, we can do it. Do you have any Shield of Reason scrolls?”
“I’d rather come with you,” I said.
“Don’t be stupid. You should keep out of it.”
“That’s out of the question. Our guys should see that their clan leader doesn’t hide behind the castle walls.”
“Are you sure? You haven’t done much training just lately.”
“You think I can’t do it?”
“Oh no, I don’t. Just worried. Where’s Enea?”
“She’s at the shrine. No good dragging her into this. She has enough on her plate as it is.”
“Very well. Let’s do it. My group of ten swordsmen will take care of the Harvesters. If you cast a neuromatrix-stabilizing buff on us, we’ll do it just fine. You take five more warriors and pull the players out. Make it quick. We shouldn’t get involved in any drawn-out engagement.”
* * *
The moon peeked out from the gaps in the clouds, flooding the location with its greenish glow.
No matter how hard we’d tried to keep the sortie under wraps, Enea and Christa had somehow found out about it. Two portals — one of Light, the other of Dark — flashed open almost simultaneously, releasing the two indignant girls.
“Oh, no,” I replied adamantly. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. This is a quick sortie, not a battle.”
“Don’t tell me we can’t help you!” Enea exclaimed.
I smiled. “That’s the problem. If you start helping us, we might end up with an epic battle on our hands. You’ll attract every Harvester in the area!”
Grudgingly they had to agree. After the Battle of Warblerford, every Reaper could recognize the two girls’ powerful auras.
“How about you?” Enea asked.
“I have my Shield of Reason, don’t I?” I reminded her. “Just cool it, girls. It’s a five-minute job.”
“Okay. We could back you up from here, I suppose,” Enea bent down and began drawing a long-distance portal on the stone floor tiles.
Christa didn’t say anything. She cast a quick glance at White, then walked over to the crenelated parapet. A faint murky haze formed around her hands: the sign of extreme distress.
The warriors fell in, ready to port. The cargonite alloy of their armor glinted purple, their faces tense behind raised visors.
“Ready for duty,” White reported.
“Likewise.”
“Let’s be off, then!” he broke the seal on a mass teleport scroll.
As we ported, I glimpsed Christa make a quick hand movement, enveloping White in the faint aura of additional protection.
For a brief moment, I lost my bearings.
We stood deep in mud. The dry blackened branches of some brambles scratched against our armor.
We were a dozen feet away from the entrance to the ravine.
My group took up their positions in the shadows, leaving me a clean field of action. A few hundred feet further on, flames arose in the air, followed by yelling and screaming as White’s swordsmen attacked the enemy.
The rich fabric of a marquee billowed, then fell. A howl echoed through the night.
The ravine was pitch black. I couldn’t see a thing. Even my Twilight Vision didn’t help me much as if blocked by some local monster.
A tangled web of dead tree roots lined the ravine’s crumbling walls. They tugged at my feet, hindering my progress.
The darkness grew ever deeper.
I could hear some creaking noises, followed by unintelligible muttering.
“Forrest, you can come out now,” I called out. “It’s okay. I’m your friend.”
A wave of fire singed the ravine bed. It washed over me — but my resistance to elements was too high for it to do me any harm. All I felt was a pleasant warmth. You had to go some to hurt me in this way.
A crooked outline flashed past in the fire’s dying light. It was a young lad no more than eighteen years old, his body all lopsided, deformed and partially cyborgized.
Armed with a flimsy wooden shield and an unusual-looking sword, he came for me, a blood-curdling grin frozen upon his face. His upper lip was raised in a snarl.
Still, he was strong as hell. I staggered and barely managed to parry his blow. He promptly shrank back. His face betrayed fearful surprise.
The icon of the Shield of Reason appeared in my stats.
What kind of blow was that?!
“Hey you!” I shouted. “Stop it now! I’m a friend!”
With a creaking noise, something gnarly and heavy dropped on me from above.
Its roots attempted to entwine my arms, immobilizing me. No such luck: Enea had cast a couple of very peculiar buffs on me just before we’d left.
The sprite’s grip slackened. “He fights back!” he made another attempt to immobilize me, this time clasping my legs.
A fiery aura enveloped my left hand. “You’d better leave me alone before I scorch you to death,” I said. Like all players who’d started their Crystal Sphere career in Agrion, I knew all his strategies.
The sprite promptly recoiled. “Please don’t!
”
In the meantime, the lad attacked me again. He moved sideways like a crab, keeping a confident grip on his shield and raising his sword for a slashing blow.
“Wait, I tell you! I’m from the castle!”
“You’re lying!”
“Look at my name tag!” I stepped back, readying a fire blow just in case. In its unsteady light, I could see the lad was really scared.
“Kyle, will you stop it?” a soft but firm voice said. A girl walked out of the shadows.
This wasn’t happening!
“Kimberly?” I struggled to recognize the young Drow huntress I’d met during my first trip to the Azure Mountains.
“Do I know you?” she stared closely at me, mistrust in her gaze.
She must have had it tough. I could still remember her cheerful smile. The girl in front of me was a shadow of her old self. Same face, different soul, dark and traumatized.
Her name tag was gray as if she didn’t belong in the Crystal Sphere any longer.
“Where’s Liori?” I asked.
“How do you know her?”
“We met in the Azure Mountains. Your pet lynx scared the hell out of me. Remember now?”
“What was the lynx’s name?”
“Sarah. A mountain lynx. She lives with us now, in case you’re interested.”
“Sarah? She lives with you? She’s alive?”
“Of course she is! She waits by the portal every day hoping you’ll come and get her.”
“Wait. I know you,” she stepped closer. “Kyle, put your sword down. He is a friend.”
“There’re no friends here,” the lad grumbled. “He’s lying.”
“Mind putting your fire away?” the sprite creaked.
What a funny trio. Still, we had no time to dwell on it.
The Reapers (The Neuro 3) Page 24