Soulcatcher

by Sergey Zaytsev

  And then, a thousand pounds of bestial weight rushed to follow its master at a speed stunning for such dimensions. Breaking through the forest with a deafening crash and clatter, it left behind itself an authentic clearing.

  Chapter 8

  "The 'Outpost'"

  After a ten-minute run, still some distance away from the "Outpost", I caught a glimpse of the "Source's" radiance. The "Turtangle", rushed by our commands, raised clouds of dust as it vigorously stomped across the dirt road with the intent of reaching the danger before us. Grant and I were clever enough to stay a few steps behind, closer to the edges, as pebbles, like bullets, flew from under the beast's claws.

  It was then that a wide pillar of ghostly bluish light rose from the center of the treetops, illuminated by the rapidly spreading golden dawn. It looked as if the beam of a giant searchlight hit the sky. It all just happened completely silently. Lifting my head in amazement I, naturally, stumbled on the completely flat road.

  "Keep up, Wise!" Grant shouted glancing at me. "The 'Source' has activated its defenses! We need to get to the 'Outpost' before our enemies! Come on, go-go-go, we still have time to get there!"

  I didn't object.

  Saving my breath, I didn't reply either. Although, I must admit, running was easy and pleasant as I had nothing but a sword and a half-empty backpack with me. My muscles were working like a well-oiled machine. I even managed to obtain a new skill: "Runner", rank 1 (1/100). I should run more often, the benefits of well-developed running could be useful in the future.

  The road smoothly turned to the right; the trees parted and we came upon a large, round clearing. In its center was a strange structure. Due to its small walls, unfit for defense, it resembled a toy fortress from which originated the impossibly thick beam. Pointing towards the heavens, like an accusing finger of some angry deity.

  Such a sight was quite confusing.

  Clearly knowing what he was doing, Grant ran towards it without hesitation.

  Trying not to fall behind, I rushed up the stone steps of the spiral staircase, smoothly leading up the outer side of the wall. As if paralyzed, I stopped abruptly, gazing at the sight that unfolded in front of me. Under my feet lay the gaping abyss. The inside of the "Outpost" was a giant well, some thirty feet deep. I stood on its edge with a curse frozen on my lips. This was bullshit – another step, and I could have plunged headfirst into the bottomless blue. I could not see the bottom. Once my eyes adapted to the bright light that seeped into every nook and cranny of the place, I saw that the mouth of the well was securely closed with a metal grating. Having dissolved in the strong glow of the light erupting from the unknown depths it became almost invisible and I failed to see it immediately. The grating itself was surrounded by a security belt of granite which was also the edge of the well.

  "Sit down and catch a breath," Grant advised. Standing between the fortress's wall and the battlement, he watched my stunned face. However, the usual smile wasn't there. "Impressive?"

  I shrugged. I didn't have the time to catch my breath.

  I carefully nudged the bars with my foot, but they didn't budge. Making sure that falling down was not a threat, I calmly raised my gaze and looked around. Whoever designed this location seemed to have an obsession with the number nine; there were exactly that many square battlements, three feet long and wide, bordering the well on the outer wall. There were also that many portals in "Daisy". Each of the battlements was crowned with a foot long crystal placed in a shiny silver frame. They seemed to be an enlarged version of the crystals that I had obtained during the "Ritual of Domestication". I couldn't help but wonder how valuable would a crystal of that size be to the "Caretakers" and how much stuff could I get for it? No, I wasn't going to steal a crystal from the "Outpost". What if I found one, or looted it from a mob? Though, how big would a mob have to be to drop THIS thing? Well, at least I knew that such things existed – I had something to strive for.

  One after another, two system messages popped up.

  Received the "Blessing of the Source".

  Health, energy and mana regeneration temporarily increased by 50%. Damage increased by 100%. Enemy damage reduced by 50%.

  Daily quest available: "Guardian of the Source."

  Conditions to be met: The "Source" must not be captured within eight hours.

  Reward: save points (10)

  Additional conditions: Destroy any 20 minions of the "Destroyer".

  Reward: 1000 XP

  Accept quest: yes / no?

  "I wish I knew what drugs the designers of this location were on," I thought, studying the new task and looking again into the shining abyss under my feet. "I should accept the quest, yeah?"

  "Yes! By the way, if other players come around, do not be surprised if a joint party is formed – that will happen by itself. Such are the rules. When it's all over and we leave the 'Outpost', our party will be automatically restored. Checked the aura, yet? Do you understand why I was in a rush to get here? You can fight off anything with this aura. However, it works only near the 'Outpost'."

  "What is there to understand?" I said with a smile. "The one who captures the well first… Well, you know what they say - the early bird gets the worm. What are those crystals for? Are they there for decoration or do they have some specific function?"

  "Good question," my mentor nodded, approvingly. "It's an automatic defense. When there are no players nearby, the well can repel 'the Destroyer's' disparate packs by itself. The double signal means a double wave, and the well had already felt the attackers. Come here. You'll see."

  Cautiously skirting the grid's edge, I approached the mage. Standing between the battlements, I cast a glance from above at the wide belt of short, withered grass that surrounded the "Outpost". Dotted with patches of green and devoid of trees and shrubbery, it seemed as if the area was purposefully uprooted. Cutting through the emerald-green wall of the deciduous forest growing behind the no man's land, dirt roads went to four sides.

  Hearing a heavy sigh, I looked down.

  The "Turtangle" grazed at the foot of the wall, eagerly biting and hurriedly swallowing the grass with both of its mouths. Noticing me, its fours eyes squinted in my direction with great suspicion but it did not stop eating. It still didn't trust me because of that blow, the vindictive beast. Apparently, it got really hungry after the transformation which had drained a lot of its energy. To think we didn't give it time to recover… Sorry, buddy, things just turned out that way. With so much vegetation around, it was actually good that the "Turtangle" was a herbivore. Looking at it, I felt like eating something as well. My stomach growled. To my annoyance, my bag was still empty.

  As if reading my thoughts, Grant fumbled through his bag and handed me a piece of something suspiciously grayish colored which the system called "Dried Wild Boar Meat". He took out a piece for himself and, without slightest hesitation, sunk his teeth into it.

  "Chew. It tastes better than it looks. Once we're done with the 'Outpost', we'll get a proper rest. I'll show you the best hunting grounds, as not every mob here is edible."

  I suspiciously sniffed the meat, tasted it, then bit off a piece and chewed it slowly. Hungry as I was, it tasted really, really good. A bit salty, though. A sip of water would not hurt, but I had already spent too much of the "Tincture". I had no option to store ordinary water. I should get a new flask, and fast.

  Realizing my difficulties, Grant shared the water from his flask.

  "What about the pet?" I wiped my lips with my sleeve and returned the flask to its owner. "He can't get up here, the stairs are too narrow. I think I should go down and look after him. I have no ranged attacks; a warrior like me would be useless on the wall."

  "Hellooo!" Grant threw his hands up mockingly. "And who will block the stairs to save me, the healer? The well won't heal you, I will."

  "It's the pet I'm worried about," I shook my head with a stubborn expression on my face. "I don't want my efforts at the lake to be in vain."

  "Don't
rush it. You can always go down. Bear in mind, however, that you can't move more than thirty feet away from the well – else you lose your aura. We'll try to keep the pet out of harm's way. There they are!"

  Yeah, I noticed them too. I frowned.

  A group of six beings emerged from the forest and stopped at the edge of the combat zone. One was a humanoid tall, slim figure, clad in smoke-gray armor with a short sword sheathed at the belt.

  The system gave me a hint: "'Lasher', level 6, leader of "The Turned Pack." With his left hand the warrior was playing with a multi-tailed lash and flogging his metal-clad boot with it. His head was protected by a pointed helmet without a visor. Even from afar I had a good look at the enemy's face. Narrow, ruby-red eyes stood out against the dark skin and glared at us, the defenders of the well, with cold fury. Dark blue lips were curved in a scornful grin. His companions, five dog like creatures that reached up to his waist, emerged from the thickets and lined up along the invisible line. They had powerful stocky bodies, covered with pitch-black fur, and the same glowing red eyes as their owner. "Fangore", the system marked the nearest beast, a level 6 minion of "The Turned Pack".

  "Grant... Do they have an elf for an alpha? Something like a drow[4]? You didn't say anything about that."

  "I shortened the legend of 'the Destroyer', to be brief." The mage removed the staff from his back, resting the end of the shaft on the floor. "The dark elves lived where the dungeon master resides now. When 'the Destroyer' arrived to this reality, a terrible battle ensued between him and the elves guarding the 'Source'. He slaughtered the guards, grew in power and drove off the remnants of their people deep into the caves. Later, after the 'Ritual of Turning', they became his first and most loyal slaves. Don't worry, though. We won't have any problems as long as we are under the protection of the 'Outpost'. Just be careful not to put yourself in harm's way. I feel that we'll get you to level four within the next hour."

  Yes, but level six enemies... Shaking my head, I decided not to voice any doubts I had about my abilities. The aura bestowed upon me by the "Source" did make me two times stronger.

  "They always come in a swarm," Grant continued explaining, focusing his gaze on 'the Destroyer's' pack that stood as motionless as stone statues. "A leader and a few minions. The power of the leader is determined by the number of his servants – the more he has, the more difficult it is to deal with him."

  "What are they waiting for?"

  "For the rest of their group. It's always the same pattern – first, they wait for all the groups to gather; then they attack. We'll see how many of them there are. By the way, there will be an elite in the largest pack – the wave's mini-boss."

  It didn't take them long to arrive. There were six packs in total. The second and the third pack came from the North and East, emerging from the seemingly safe forest next to the common roads. The "Purity" spell didn't allow them to travel the roads, but moving over rough terrain didn't seem to cause them any difficulties.

  "Are we just gonna stand here?" I said, feeling a little nervous. Grant had already fought them, but I had no idea what those things were capable of.

  "Do you, a level three, want to end up dying pointlessly as you try to cleave through that crowd?" Grant asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Hold on. They are gathering their strengths. We should try and stall them. Maybe one of ours can catch up. Owl's group has to be around here somewhere. They should have arrived by now. All who see the signal must hurry to protect the well - it is the law."

  "Describe their abilities while we still have the time."

  "'Fangores' are simple creatures," the mage explained. "Their main weapons are claws and teeth, but they're very strong physically. 'Lasher's' are a bit more complicated. 'Lash Strike on the Pack' grants a short-term buff that doubles the minion's stats. I advise that you stay away from their teeth. More importantly, every 'Fangore' is spiritually and physically connected to its leader, continuously sustaining him with its power. It's best to attack the 'Lasher' only after destroying his entire entourage."

  "Are the 'Lashers' mages or warriors?"

  Grant shrugged. "A little bit of everything. Their arsenal of abilities is ever changing; every wave has its quirks, so you'll have to adapt... By the way, archers are a thing. They don't appear often, though… Oh, fuck!"

  Two new groups appeared, filling the gap between the packs. One consisted of seven and the other of eight members. The leader of the latter stood out only due to his larger stature. His gear and weapons were the same as those of his subordinates. Was he the mini-boss? A bit confused, I looked down at the "Uniq" in my hand. I didn't remember removing it from my shoulder. By now, the weapon had become an extension of my hand. However, the sight of so many enemies lined up in a tight arc along the edge of the forest made me feel uneasy. Thirty dogs and five leaders! Something cold stirred in my chest, telling me that what was coming was not level four or rare goodies, but the thing I wished to avoid - my first death. What could two men, even totally buffed out, do against such a crowd?! It was suicide, plain and simple. We were in huuuge trouble.

  Grant swore, helpless anger in his voice. He had come to a similar conclusion. He threw a glance in my direction, as if checking if I had fled already.

  "There's a chance that we won't make it. There are too many mobs in a double wave, and there are only two of us. Plus, I am a healer, not a damage dealer. I ain't a fighter. You and the 'Turtangle' are our only hope…" He paused for a moment and let out a sigh.

  "Ten! Mother of…"

  Five packs stepped aside, letting through the largest group, led by the mini-boss, level six leader of the wave, "Master of the Ritual". Denticles framed his icon, symbolizing the severity of his abilities. Eight feet tall, the "Master" towered above the rest. His armor radiated a dark blue glow. Across the broad shoulder lay a two-handed flamberge sword, casually supported by a gauntlet-clad hand.

  Having estimated the length of his oversized sword, I felt noticeably sick. If one stood next to it they would probably not even reach its hilt. A straight-up attempt to parry a swing from that thing would be the last and dumbest thing one would do in their life. Catching my gaze, the mini-boss gave me his foulest grin and effortlessly raised the two-handed sword with one hand, saluting the two new victims. Us, that is. I felt as if even the sun, scared for its life, faded from the sky.

  "Is it too late to leave?" I asked, as calmly as I could, trying to prevent my voice from sounding too ghastly.

  "Too late, bro," Grant sighed, looking like a man who suddenly had all his carefully built plans ruined. With both hands, he raised his staff. The pommel, a gleaming stylized solar disk with nine short rays, flashed with poisonous green light.

  I quickly went over my meager, level three, combat arsenal. "Tempest Blade" caused 12-20 points of damage; "Searing Flash", 20-30; and "Ice Squall", 28-30, plus three attack points. All of that was doubled thanks to the "Blessing of the Source". That being said, I could, possibly, fight a level five or six mob... That meant that we'd have to give it our all before we were torn to pieces. There was nothing worse than a senseless death.

  The "Master" suddenly lowered his sword; the blade flashed, ominously reflecting the sunlight.

  After receiving the signal, the line of The Destroyer's army wavered.

  They attacked all at once, crossing the invisible line of the protected perimeter. Forming a dark, rapidly accelerating wave, four dozen of "Fangores" rushed in our direction, spilling over the yellow-green withered glass like tar. As soon as that happened, the crystals on the well's battlements lit up, one by one, accumulating the piercing-bright blue radiance of the "Source".

  And it all started so nicely…

  "Grant, what about the pet?" I asked, anxiously. I looked down at the "Turtangle" which continued to quickly swallow its food, as if it was trying to fill up its capacious belly for the next few life times. Incidentally, it too received the "Blessing's" aura. "Can you get it out of there before it's too late? We have to kee
p it, right?"

  "We wouldn't last a minute," Grant replied, angrily shaking his head. "Don't worry, you are yet to see its abilities, it can take care of itself. Go to the stairs. Do not let the minions break through; the first thing they will try to do is disable the crystals!"

  "What's so special abo-…?"

  The "Source's" defense kicked in the moment the dogs crossed the half-way point, answering my question. The crystals vibrated and rumbled softly, their radiance intensifying. One by one, nine dazzling rays shot towards the incoming wave, striking dead those who had escaped ahead of their comrades. Their bodies tumbled down, erupting in a blue fire. Almost a quarter of 'the Destroyer's' army ceased to exist.

  I couldn't help but cheer! What a blast! However, there were still a damn lot of them and the "Source's" attack didn't take them by surprise. It didn't slow them down at all. The discharge from the crystals faded, and a new flame within them was growing frustratingly slowly. We could only hope that it would recharge before we got overrun. The most annoying thing was that not a single point had been added to the XP bar. We would have to get our hands dirty. The "Fangores" were far ahead of their leaders. The five armored warriors leisurely followed their servants, not rushing to join the fight. It was understandable, one couldn't run very well clad in so much iron. Having covered some distance, the mini-boss halted and raised his terrifying sword and dark face towards the sky, as if in an ecstatic prayer. I ran up to the top of the stairs, preparing to block their path.

  "Grant! Is there anything you can do to interrupt this ritual!?"

  "I can't reach him from here!" Something bright and green flew out of the mage's staff in the direction of the pack. The "Fangore" jerked and screamed in pain, but didn't lose its desire to fight. It just fell slightly behind the others. "Nothing! I'm level seven, there are no decent spells yet!"

  What could be said about me then…?

  My mentor then, apparently, gave a mental command to the "Turtangle". Ripping off the last tuft of grass, our battleship dashed behind the well at full speed where it disappeared from sight. What was Grant's plan? Did he decide to save the beast after all?