Soulcatcher

by Sergey Zaytsev

  The "Warthog" had no chance against our well-worked trio.

  However, the amount of experience gained made me swear. Aloud and quite seriously.

  "Oh!"Grant grinned, returning the staff to his back. "Finally talking?"

  "What can I do with this?!" I growled hoarsely. My vocal cords felt, and sounded, like a poorly oiled machine. I slipped and kicked the warthog as if the poor animal was to blame for my misfortune. "Thirty points! What a joke!"

  "Get used to it," Grant said, undisturbed by my outrage. "The higher your level, the less XP you gain from low level mobs. The results that you have achieved on the first day cannot be repeated. Quests are of utmost importance now as you will be getting the most experience from them. Otherwise, you will be forced to continue committing forest genocide."

  "More like 'beasticide'. Or 'porkcide'."

  "Just loot it, 'Wiso'." Grant threw the staff behind his back and began to gather the scattered firewood. "I'll take care of the fire."

  I kicked boar again. The accumulated irritation required an output and, as I wasn't about to start kicking Grant, the boar became my punching bag. Glutton approached the carcass, outstretched its left, long, scaly neck, and sniffed it. It licked the wound on the boar's side and sneezed. I must have imagined it wrinkling its face in disgust because the armored face of an oversized turtle simply could not possess the needed facial muscles for such grimaces.

  "Wait," I called Grant. "Maybe we could cut a piece and make ourselves a barbecue? I can't keep the dried stuff down anymore. There's plenty of firewood, so fire won't be an issue. I'll make skewers from twigs…"

  "I wouldn't do it, Wiso," Grant shook his head. "You need young, lean meat for that. The boar is old and its meat as tough as an outsole. Loot it and catch up."

  The mentor went towards the river bank, accompanied by Glutton's cheerful pattering. I squinted at the warthog and "dispelled" its corpse. After a second of delay, the body started to "float"; the flesh sagged and the skin thinned, oozing bones and crumbling to dust. No matter how many times I had already seen it, it still creeped me out. Would that happen with our avatars too? No funerals, just an eco-friendly, clean death. From this point of view, overpopulation would not be a problem in the game world, as it was impossible to spoil with garbage.

  Seeing the loot, I snorted.

  No crystals, but I did find a clean square of tanned leather, four inches long and wide, and a flavorful piece of meat. I put it all into my, now heavier, backpack. As soon as I find a needle and a thread I will use the leather to fix my clothes. They were full of holes ever since "Source" and wind was blowing through them. I liked how everything was so conventional. Imagine if I had to eviscerate the carcass manually and disassemble it for necessary components. It would be a total mess – bloody, stinky, shitty... So thank you, oh benefactors who invented such a wonderful loot mechanic. The meat should last me a few days at least, and I will have to down more than one or two mobs for the sake of necessary experience. But hell, at least it was all clean. Minimum fuss, maximum benefit and pleasure. However, the benefits were still not enough...

  Wait a second, what is that?

  Looking around, I squatted near the "tusks", which were, for some reason, in no hurry to disintegrate, unlike the rest of the body. I touched the nearest one with my finger. Part of it crumbled at once, revealing a new item. In disbelief, I pinched my thigh. I wasn't dreaming!

  Item obtained: "Bone Slayer"

  Weapon type: dagger, one-handed

  Material: enchanted bone

  Item type: rare

  Durability: 30/30

  Damage: piercing (24-30)

  Moreover, the dagger had a quite decent, leathery, rough to the touch, sheath with wide loops for fastening onto a belt.

  Quickly drawing the weapon, I gasped in admiration. The snow-white blade flashed, curving barely noticeably to follow the shape of the scabbard. It was made of something that looked like a metalized bone. Having found a branch nearby, I cut it and nearly lost balance. I didn't expect for it to go through dry wood like a knife through butter. The blade was so thin that it seemed to disappear when turned sideways and yet it didn't seem fragile. What a gift! Really, the technology at work here was awesome.

  My gaze fell on the second "tusk".

  I approached the pier happy as a clam, with enough food to survive the winter, and two identical daggers swaying on my belt. Grant had comfortably settled himself on a flat boulder densely covered with soft, dark green moss. Next to him, on the old fireplace, lined with black soot stones, firewood already caught flames. My novelties didn't go unnoticed – the mentor's eyebrows crept up in surprise. I had to throw him one of the daggers in order to satisfy his curiosity. The mage shook his head as he inspected the acquisition, and grunted approvingly. Not without regret, he forced himself to return the weapon:

  "Lucky you. I got mine from Esco. It'll save you the crystals. The daggers aren't epic, of course, just rare, but now I see there's truth behind those rumors."

  "What rumors?"

  "Hmm... Here's the thing, sometimes, with a negligible chance, mobs drop things equal or even better than the 'Uniq'. I haven't seen it happen in person, and none of the current players have any of such items. But rumors persist. Actually, that's why you need to carry a 'Duplicator' with you all the time – for luck."

  I took off my bag and sat opposite of him. Piled around the fireplace were enough boulders to accommodate an entire squad. The former visitors of the "Temple" hadn't been lazy and had arranged a proper waiting spot.

  "So, one can avoid fighting 'the Destroyer' and still get a sensible weapon?"

  "Yeah, well," the mentor smiled into his beard. "Ambitious, aren't you? Everyone has to face 'the Destroyer'. The drop rate is much higher in the dungeon. Not just for weapons, gear, too. Rings, bracelets, necklaces, pieces of armor... But it's worth thinking twice before using the 'Duplicator' for other purposes. For example, if one doesn't get the epic dagger from 'the Destroyer', and there's no way to duplicate the 'Uniq'... What will you do in the new world without weapons? Fight back with a ring?"

  "Better to just crush your head against the wall and end it. But seriously, what does it look like, Grant? The binding, I mean. Say that I get my head blown off and am sent to the 'Replicator'…"

  "Bite your tongue!" Grant waved his hands at me, almost falling off the boulder.

  "Theoretically, I mean.…"

  "I get it, I get it. If you happen to find yourself in the 'Replicator', you'll find the 'Uniq', as well as any item bound to the avatar, in the personal loot box. No need to run around looking for them." Thinking, he frowned; bushy eyebrows formed a "V" and deep, vertical wrinkles furrowed his forehead. "Here's the deal. We'll head back to 'Daisy' once we are done at the 'Temple'. We'll be back by evening, have rest and decide where to go for further leveling. There are many options and I will explain all of them to you in detail."

  "No objection. And the 'Replicator' is actually a good idea," I noticed how Grant was looking at my "Bone Slayers". Suppressing a sigh, I proposed: "Do you want one? It's group loot, after all."

  "I already have one," the mage declined after a brief internal struggle, deciding to be noble. Chuckling, he waved his hand: "Yours, both are yours, don't get any ideas of false humility."

  For some reason, I once again remembered the "Outpost" and our departure.

  The clansmen were sitting around a small bonfire kindled near the well, just like Grant and I were now. The common trait of all intelligent beings is to be near a source of heat and light, even if there was no darkness or cold. In addition to Sarge's hostile gaze with which he had seen my mentor off, I also remembered Alice. The blonde did not seem as cold and unapproachable as she did during the battle, rather, she looked like an ordinary girl. In one hand she held a flask, in the other, a twig with which she poked the burning firewood. I couldn't help but notice the way the girl looked at Grant; as if she owed him something big. Why else would she have taken our
side? Wouldn't it make more sense for the "Children's" vice clan master to support her own? I couldn't believe in justice for justice's sake, not in that case. There was more to it and Grant knew it, but he wasn't willing to share.

  I wonder how they're doing

  As it turned out, I had said that out loud. I ought to be more careful.

  "Don't worry, I was constantly looking back," Grant assured me. "As I didn't see a signal beam, there shouldn't be any serious problems there. One or two separate groups near the 'Source' don't pose any danger. Not to mention that there are five people there. We'd have a problem if we ran into a stray pack. But I have not heard that they were near the 'Temple'. Their primary targets are always the 'Sources'. Until they are captured, 'the Destroyer's' minions have nothing to do here. And the defenders of the 'Temple' are, by the way, more powerful than those of the 'Sources', as they are a symbolic abode of the Gods, after all."

  Something splashed nearby.

  Glutton was swimming just a few steps away from the shoreline. Only the wet top of its shell could be seen peeking from the water. Although the coastal slope went down to the depth quite steeply, the "Turtangle's" own weight allowed it to ignore the strong current. In the depths of the water, crystal clear and permeated with sunlight to the very bottom, one could see the "Turtangle's" jaws grinding long strips of green algae with a constant appetite. It remained amphibious, despite obtaining a land modification during the process of binding. Glutton went into the water as soon as it got near the river.

  A faint metallic clink caught my attention, and I looked up.

  It was a pier in name only. A six to nine feet tall wooden platform, worn down by the soles of many feet that had crossed it, towered above the water on poles overgrown with algae. On the edge turned towards the river, stood a roughly hammered together "U" shaped wooden arch, darkened by time and bad weather. Suspended on a thin chain hanging from the upper crossbar, a bronze bell swayed on the wind. The distance from the pier to the island was about two hundred yards, no less. The farther you looked the darker the water became, indicating the increasing depth.

  "Hey Grant, what's the bell for? For decor or what?"

  "Not really. It is supposed to call the priests to bring the ferry over. But people have long since figured out that these lazy assholes defiantly ignore the ringing of the bell. As it is forbidden to ignite anything near the temple, they won't ignore the presence of fire. They'll come to make us extinguish the fire. By the way, your friends have already been here."

  "Who are you talking about?" I blankly looked at the mage.

  "Red and Gramps."

  "What the hell were they doing here…?"

  "Gramps is a cleric," Grant said and shrugged, as if that statement was supposed to be self-explanatory.

  "And?"

  "Oh, you dimwit... Owl had to bring his wards here, because one of them had become a cleric after the test at the 'Training Grounds'. Know this - clerics are a special sort. It is believed that clerics are spiritual guides, a partial reflection of the essence of one of the deities of the 'Universe ICS'. Faith is their shield, and the power of the Gods is their weapon. They are also a very versatile class. Depending on their specialization, they can 'tank', heal, or cause serious damage. As far as I understand, to become a cleric, the player himself must be predisposed to devoutness. Yes, memory is filtered, but basic psychological attitudes remain, and such a person, first of all, needs to fill the emptiness formed in their soul. If you think about it, faith in a game-based God gives you an advantage that a true believer will never achieve in the ordinary world. For example, the power of the player grows significantly with each level of faith, and it is a power quite material, it can be operated."

  "Grant, it's just a trick," I disapprovingly shook my head. "A cruel and cynical one. A substitution of concepts. One who truly believes will never need proof of God's existence."

  "Well, maybe that's the point?" he asked with irony in his voice and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe, it's those who doubted before who become clerics? And this is where they find what they crave – confirmation? Wise, don't look at me with such indignation, I don't make the rules! By the way, that's why Owl's wards fell behind you in levels. The road is long, and Owl's just a weathermage. He's not able to 'tank', and most of the mobs in this area are stronger than newbies. So the new 'Children' had to avoid them, which screwed up their leveling big time."

  "Stop!" I raised my hand, interrupting him. "I still don't understand what do a cleric and a trip to the 'Temple' have in common?"

  "Hmm... I'm bad at explaining," Grant put his wide-brimmed hat onto his knees and smoothed out his tousled hair. "In short, a cleric who doesn't pass the initiation in the 'Temple' and doesn't get chosen by any deity, possesses no magical ability. Zero points. He's just able to swing his hammer, and even then not in full force. Other classes have no such severe restrictions. We can choose patrons whenever it pleases us. Or whenever it pleases them, the patrons."

  "And you? Did you choose already?" I asked skeptically, having no doubts that I could guess the answer. And I did.

  "I don't want to rush," Grant tossed a branch into the fire, and the flames began to smoke intensely. "I don't know where I'm going after I leave the 'sandbox'. What if I find myself in a place where my patron deity fell out of favor with the rest of the 'Pantheon'? I want to avoid unnecessary problems."

  That's him. Always doubting, always plotting some vague and far-reaching plans. And constantly not telling something.

  "You know, Grant, you're an interesting man," I slowly shook my head, not hiding the sarcasm.

  "Yes? And why?" he retorted, alerted, catching the change in my mood.

  "Thought-out to the bone."

  "I am not sure what you mean…"

  I stared into his eyes, observing his reaction, and watched him get more uncomfortable with every passing. He knew it all, the smart fox. One could keep silent for only so long. Sooner or later, the truth would come out.

  "I want to make one thing clear, brother mentor. Either you answer my questions, or you will be looking for another student. I'll risk going underground with another party. One where people are honest."

  "What the hell is wrong with you?!" Grant protested.

  "Quiet. Now I'll talk and you'll listen. At first, I turned a blind eye to your omissions. But I knew exactly what you were doing and why. Giving information in doses, you were deliberately binding me to you, reinforcing psychological dependence. And you cunningly avoided awkward moments, afraid that you would scare away me from your plan. You've arranged for your problems to inevitably become mine. You even forced my class on me. You knew how to place the rookie near the training 'Golem', and what to tell him to make me become a warrior."

  "You overestimate my abilities," the mage said and looked away, staring at the fire.

  "Come on, Grant," I frowned, annoyed. I have no qualms with you. Everyone adapts as they can. However, everyone we have met so far seems to have a qualm with you. So stop feeding me stories and acting like a harmless little lad. How long have you been here for? Five days in total? One must try real hard to have so many people turn against them. So what's your deal with Sarge?"

  The expression on the mage's face was that of sadness and thoughtfulness.

  Throwing a couple of branches into the fire, he turned his head to the "Turtangle". I was already aware of the very strong mental connection between the pet and its owner. So it didn't surprise me when the "Turtangle" stopped its eternal breakfast without being given an actual order to do so and surfaced with a noisy splash. Still, I watched it with caution, wondering should I grab my sword or wait a little longer. I couldn't believe they would attack me. Of course, Grant was quite the trickster, but it was unlikely he planned to kill a novice.

  Quickly moving its legs, the tank-pet rushed away from the shore. I felt relieved.

  "Where did you send Glutton?"

  "To the island," Grant shrugged. "I'm tired of waiting for the priests to
wake up. It is prohibited for players to appear on the territory of the temple without permission, but this prohibition does not apply to pets. Let it raise some fuss. Don't worry, it's safe here."

  "I'm still waiting for an answer, Grant," I patiently reminded, not wanting to raise my tone.

  "Okay," he ruffled his hair with his hand, visibly nervous. "Tonight is Sarge's turn to make the trip to 'the Destroyer's' dungeon. Our Glutton impressed him as there are few people able to tame such a mighty beast. And only the blind and the deaf in here don't know about my plan to form a duo …"

  "So, while I was out cold, he kindly, but definitely, offered himself instead of me?" I swore mentally. One would assume something like that. "Why didn't you go with him? He is a level eight warrior. You could have paired with him today. It's better than training me, isn't it? Just don't tell me your conscience wouldn't let you bail on me."

  "So hard to believe?" Grant forced a laugh. "Profit isn't everything, Wise bro. I don't like being dictated terms. But Sarge didn't offer – he just dictated. And he threatened to make my life 'a living hell' if I didn't agree. I have time till 6PM. After that, the ultimatum will come into force."

  Oh shit. The more I looked – the more I found. It was getting worse with every word.

  "And what can he do about it? Kill you? By the way, I keep forgetting to ask how long does it take for the 'Curator' to find and punish the guilty?"

  "Almost no time at all," Grant assured me. "Wherever you are, Mr. Esco will find you and you'll be unpleasantly surprised by how quickly that can happen."

  "What's the day of Sarge's deadline?"

  "Seventh. Penultimate day for the dungeon."

  "So, he will not dare to kill you personally," I shook my head thoughtfully. "It's brings no profit for him. If the 'Curator' sends him to the 'Replicator', then a trip to the dungeon will fail and he won't manage to replay it. And Sarge himself would risk a trip to the 'Inferno'. That's what you told me, right?"