DEAD.
Chapter 03
“Seriously?” John found himself once again in the pinprick gloom between life and death. Taken out by two mosquitos. He was glad none of his former associates had witnessed it. He would have been the laughingstock of the agency. Another loading screen tip popped up in front of him.
Tip: Repair your weapons when they reach 15% durability to keep them from breaking.
The AI began her countdown again. “Respawning in five…four…three…”
John was thrown back out into the game. He looked around, expecting to be back at the same respawn location, but he wasn’t. Another tall, stone cross stood behind him. He was closer to the battlefield this time. The air was heavy with the smell of death. At the edge of the battlefield, a man wearing the tabard of an Empire of the Seven Paths guild crawled towards the green grass. His legs dragged uselessly behind him. The pain and fear in his eyes were real. Why didn’t someone put him out of his misery? John’s jaw tightened. Knowing that it was a game and watching the destruction firsthand were two very different things.
He cursed under his breath and ran towards the injured player. The man reached out his hand towards John. His lips trembled. Frothy blood bubbled up at the corner of his mouth. Internal bleeding. There was nothing to be done. The only comfort John could offer was clasping the dying man’s hand. The flesh was cold to the touch. Gurgles were the only sounds that could be heard as his lungs filled with blood. The light drained from his eyes.
John quickly dropped the man’s hand. His heart was pounding in his chest. The dead player was approximately John’s size and build. He took one look at the man’s gear. In a snap decision, he moved to tug the man’s boots off of his lifeless body. There was no reason something good couldn’t come from his death.
One boot wiggled free and then the other. A twisted smile curled the edges of John’s mouth. Finally, something was going his way. He moved to jam his foot into the right boot. Instead of his leg going into the opening, it seemed to slide off to the side. John frowned in frustration. He tried again. The same thing happened. It was almost as if an invisible forcefield was blocking the hole. A notification popped up in front of him.
Item: LVL 82 Tracker Evasion Boots
Currently Equipped: NONE
Minimum LVL: 82
Durability: 75%
Faction Specific: No
Soul-Bound Item: Yes
↑ Speed + 400
↑ Attack + 342
↑ Defense + 320
Current LVL: 01
Speed: 50/50
Attack: 25/25
Defense: 25/25
When equipped, Tracker Evasion Boots prevent the player from leaving footprints.
Must be LVL 82 or higher to equip this item.
You do not meet the requirements to equip this item.
John pressed his lips together in a tight line of agitation. He couldn’t even wear the gear he found because he was too low of a level. On top of that, most of the higher-level gear was soul-bound. Only the account owner that originally equipped the item would be able to wear it. He threw the boot angrily, not paying attention to where he was aiming. The useless hunk of junk bounced from the force of his throw. It rolled to a stop after colliding with the spindly leg of a clockwork spider.
The spider’s body whirled around without needing to move its legs. Two kaleidoscope eyes glowed like rubies in the sun. It didn’t take long for the mechanical arachnid to decipher who had thrown the boot at it.
John tried to scramble to his feet. The spider was quicker. The razor sharp tips of its legs dug into the dead earth. It closed the gap in a matter of seconds. The clockwork creation stood a full head above John. Bloody pinchers at the base of its mouth darted forward towards John’s neck. He dodged to the left, narrowly avoiding being decapitated. Even though he knew it was futile, it was human instinct to survive. John scrambled away from the edge of the battlefield. Calculating the distance of its target, the spider shot out a thin, gilded cable instead of webbing. A razorblade claw at the end of the cable sank into John’s right shoulder. Before the spider even had a chance to retract the cable—and John along with it—the world went black.
DEAD.
The annoying tingles along his extremities only increased John’s agitation. He was used to being the best, the top in his field. Sucking in a deep breath, he tried to calm his thoughts. He just needed to regroup. Doing the same thing over and over wouldn’t get him anywhere. He needed to get away from the battlefield. Steeling his nerves, John prepared to be tossed back out into the fray.
Tip: If you die while wearing soul-bound items, the items will respawn in your inventory after 6 hours.
“Respawning in five…four…three…two…”
John landed in the middle of the Eternal Battlefield. A crumbling, stone cross had been knocked to the ground at some point during the battle. All three factions were still fighting hard. From the corner of his eye, he saw a young woman healing a comrade. Above her head in green, glowing characters were the words, “Level Up! LVL 100!” The notification only lasted a few seconds. He heard a few cheers from others that wore her same guild tabard. The distraction was enough time for a rogue arrow to embed in John’s right thigh. He fell to his left knee and crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
DEAD.
John was no longer simply mad at the game or the situation he was in. He was mad at himself, too. Being distracted in the middle of battle was inexcusable.
Tip: Eating will replenish health points. Drinking will replenish mana points.
“Respawning in five…”
He was beginning to hate the game’s AI an unhealthy amount. John was starting to lose count of how many times he had died already. Each time he respawned, he felt slightly weaker. As soon as the AI puked him back onto the field—for the umpteenth time—he pressed the back of his neck to check his character stats.
Character Information
Character Stats
Currently Equipped
Inventory
Faction: N/A
Class: N/A
Guild: N/A
Primary Profession: UNLOCKED AT LVL 02
Secondary Profession: UNLOCKED AT LVL 03
XP Penalty: Player has had multiple deaths in a short span of time.
XP Penalty: Player has had multiple deaths in an area designated for players 20 LVLs or more above player’s current LVL.
Current LVL: 01
Health: 120/120
Mana: 0/0
Speed: 50/50
Attack: 25/25
Defense: 25/25
Charisma: 25/25
Weapon Skills: 0/0
Chest: NONE
Bracers: NONE
Legs: LVL 01 Cloth Briefs (Starter item: no stat bonuses)
Boots: NONE
Cloak: NONE
Neck: NONE
Main-Hand Weapon: NONE
Off-Hand Weapon: NONE
You have 0 items in your inventory.
With the experience penalties, it would take him forever to level up anything combat related. No wonder he was feeling a little drained. Everything he did was worth less and less experience because of the penalties. He couldn’t even re-roll his character. The game had stated in the beginning that only one character per SyLVR account could be created. He needed to think outside of the box if he was going to turn this around. All of the money he hadn’t spent on his bunker and new socket had been transferred to his SyLVR account. Turning this repetitive hell into something lucrative was his only way to secure a new life for himself. If he couldn’t level up combat skills, maybe he could level up something else. His mind raced for a solution. The only option that stood out to him was to reach the next level and start working on leveling up a non-combat profession. John quickly pressed the back of his neck again. The menu closed.
> An unfamiliar voice made him whirl around. “You look like a man that wants to press his luck!” A cowboy with a black hat shadowing his face held his arms out to his sides. Two pistols were holstered on his hips.
John held his hands up defensively. “Look, man. Can we not do this? I’ve had a hell of a day. Why don’t you just move along to someone your level? You’re not going to get any experience for killing me, okay?”
“A tough guy, huh?” The Enlightened spat tobacco juice at the ground near his feet.
Running his tongue over his teeth, John fought to hold back the anger that had been building inside of him since the game had initiated. “Just move along, okay? I don’t want any trouble.”
“Stick ‘em up!”
“You know what? If you’re going to kill me, just kill me. I’m not sticking anything up. Worst case scenario, I’ll just respawn somewhere else in this hellhole.” John took an enraged step towards him. “Come on, tough guy. Go ahead. Shoot an unarmed level one player. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“You look like a man that wants to press his luck!”
Realization washed over him. “I’m arguing with an NPC, aren’t I?”
“A tough guy, huh?”
John shook his head and chuckled in embarrassment. “Of course, because why not? Everything else is going wrong.”
Around him the battleground was littered with dead players. The clash of weapons was less of a deafening roar and more of a distant mumble. Generic NPC’s made their way across the burnt ground. All three factions were represented. The game seemed determined that the Eternal Battlefield would live up to its name. If there weren’t enough players on the field, then NPC’s would fill the lull. Before the Enlightened NPC could determine if it was going to shoot him or just keep prattling on, a sword sheathed with crackling lightning burst through its ribcage. The cowboy fell to the ground.
Sunlight glinted off of chainmail. A member of the Holy Seal swung his sword above his head. Fresh blood sizzled along the electric blade. “Perhaps you would like to be the next to taste my steel!”
“Nope.” John turned on his heel and wove between the piles of player bodies. He glanced over his shoulder to see if the knight was in pursuit, but a xia warrior had already entered into a confrontation with the Holy Seal NPC.
A crunch under John’s foot sent a sharp pain through him. It felt like he had stepped on a child’s building block or a jagged stone. Stifling a string of curses, John bit the inside of his cheek. The body of a member of the Empire of the Seven Paths lay at his feet. The pulsing pain in the arch of his foot had come from stepping on the metal coil holding the dead man’s topknot in place. Frustration overtook him for a moment. He kicked at the xia’s body. John’s foot connected with the back of the man’s neck. To his surprise, a menu opened. It was similar to the one that triggered when he touched his own socket location, but this one listed the other player’s consumable inventory.
Consumable Inventory
Aura Revelation Talisman*
Health Potion x 3
Plum x 3
Scroll of Mist Calling x 2
Spaulders of Elders Blueprints
Sweet Water x 4
*Item may only be used by a member of the Empire of the Seven Paths.
Curious, John rifled through the player’s pockets. All of the listed items were fairly easy to find. The moment he removed them from the body, the item disappeared from the menu. Even if he lacked the necessary skills to use some of the items, he might be able to sell or trade them to other players. The faction requirement on the talisman worried him. Since he was technically factionless, was he automatically disqualified from any specialty items? John mentally cursed the AI again. Even without the faction specific items in the mix, he was still faced with a unique problem. “How am I going to carry any of this?” He let out an exasperated sigh.
The field wasn’t exactly full of options. John needed to find something that would make do until he had something suitable. Soul-bound gear was out of the question. He frowned and reached over to the next closest body. A quick press on the back of the knight’s neck popped up another menu.
Consumable Inventory
Ale x 2
Enchanted Dust
Health Potion
Mutton x 2
Prayer of Divine Intervention*
*Item may only be used by a member of the Holy Seal.
John rifled through the folds under the man’s plate armor. He added it to the pile he had started. The knight’s body rolled heavily to the side. A slender wrist was exposed. A female Enlightened player had been trapped between the dead knight and the burnt earth. Her glazed eyes stared at him without blinking. John gently pulled her eyelids down with his middle and forefinger. He had seen enough death in the real world that the act of killing didn’t faze him. It was the lifeless gaze that was unsettling. The dead seemed to be able to stare right through him. Maybe it was because his shredded soul was more dead than alive. Maybe it was just his imagination.
He shook his head to clear away the morbid thoughts. John slid his fingers under the back of her head and along her hairline.
Consumable Inventory
Antique Brass x 10
Chicory Root x 10
Clockwork Spider Blueprints*
Loose Black Powder x 2
Raw Iron
Salted Meat x 4
Well Water x 3
Willow Bark x 5
*Item may only be used by a member of the Enlightened.
Adding the girl’s inventory to his growing pile, he picked out a piece of the willow bark. He turned the piece of bark over on his palm. A notification popped up.
Item: Willow Bark
Minimum LVL: N/A
Durability: N/A
Faction Specific: No
Soul-Bound Item: No
Typically found near the Flowering Marsh.
Chewing item increases pain tolerance by 25% for 60 minutes. Buff may be stacked twice for a maximum of 50% increased pain tolerance for 60 minutes.
Item effect does not remain after death.
Shrugging his shoulders, John gnawed on the bark. The pain in his foot instantly dwindled to a dull ache. In the real world, the salicin typically found in the bark worked as a substitute for aspirin. The digital counterpart that he was chewing was most likely coded to affect the pain centers of the brain to trigger a similar response. He didn’t particularly care how it worked as long as it alleviated some of his discomfort.
A black bandana tied around the girl’s neck caught his eye. The knot was soaked with salty sweat. The cloth stubbornly kept its shape under his prying fingers. Exasperated, John leaned down and grasped part of the knot between his teeth for added leverage. After a minute of tugging and pulling on the fabric, the bandana loosened its grip on the dead girl’s neck.
John quickly unfolded the cloth. He smoothed it out on the ground. No window opened to tell him the item was soul-bound. It was most likely a low-level vanity item used more for looks than stats. Chunking the miscellaneous items into the center of the neckerchief, John quickly tied the cloth into a makeshift sack. The bark in his mouth began to disintegrate. The bitter mush made his lips curl in disgust. He spat the remnants onto the ground and surveyed the rest of the field.
A few of the bodies on the ground had disappeared. Something glinted near the legs of a broken-down clockwork spider. Skimming the immediate area, he picked his way over to the spider. Most of the NPC’s were too busy battling one another to pay him much mind. It helped that he wasn’t a high-level player. To them he was less of a threat than a speck of dust. The game’s food chain ranked him lower than the mosquitos that had killed him earlier. An amused huff flared his nostrils. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
Underneath the spider’s legs, John found a golden lasso spooled near a player’s spurs. He looked it over curiously. T
he handle looked well-made, but the rope was fraying in places. John reached down to pick up the carved, wooden handle. As his fingers closed around the wood, a chime echoed in his ears. The sudden noise caught him off-guard.
Level Up! LVL 02!
Profession Unlocked: Salvager!
He had leveled up faster than expected. It was a blessing amid the shitstorm he had been experiencing since logging in. He barely had time to think about what the profession might entail before an explanation appeared.
Profession: Salvager
Current Professions: NONE
Minimum LVL: 02
Faction Specific: No
Profession Bonuses: Increased Carrying Capacity, Faster Movement While Overburdened, and Enhanced Identification of Fallen Players.
(Bonuses level up as player levels up.)
Current LVL: 02
Speed: 55/55
Attack: 30/30
Defense: 30/30
Make Primary Profession!
No Thanks!
John looked at the lasso in his hand and the lumpy hobo bindle that was holding the rest of his spoils of war. Salvager was a nice euphemism for looting corpses. Sugar-coating the truth was another way to depersonalize players from what would be considered a less-than-savory pastime in the real world.
John shrugged and locked in his primary profession. He coiled the rope loosely around his shoulder. Somewhere between rigid training exercises and contracted hits, he had lost his sensitivity to such things. He muttered under his breath, “Waste not, want not.”
Merchant of Death Page 3