Soulcatcher

by Sergey Zaytsev

  All the bosses of "The Destroyer's" dungeon were vanquished in less than 12 hours.

  Reward: 6,000 XP

  The achievement is imprinted in the "Great Genesis Book" and will be known across all the worlds of the ''Universe ICS''.

  Lying on the side, I came to.

  My body ached like it was about to fall apart. I spat out the blood filling my mouth. Something was making an annoying noise. I got up to look around. I was lying right on the edge of the drain funnel. A little more and I would have fallen into it!

  What about the others?

  Gritting my teeth in pain, I turned my head, looking for the girl. Foxy lay still near the broken pieces of a stalagmite. How unlucky she had been to bump into an obstacle during the explosion. Her jacket was bloodied, but she was still alive, life bar glowing in the red zone. If helped, she would be okay.

  Hand trembling, I searched my belt for the flask with the last sip of the potion. I would have to limp to the portal. I detected movement in my peripheral vision. The cleric was alive. Although staggered, Gramps, quite confidently, walked in my direction, dragging his precious hammer by the long hilt, metal screeching as it scraped the stone. He probably hadn't yet realized that the battle was over. Contusion is a dangerous thing, and complete disorientation that came with it was quite common. It would have been better if he had gone to help Red as she needed immediate assistance. However, he ran out of potions in the ''Oasis''.

  What the fuck?!

  I suddenly noticed that the cleric was already level ten, and I couldn't believe my eyes. After defeating "The Destroyer", everyone received an equal amount of experience; he couldn't have gotten more than the rest of us. Was it a bug?

  So, I'll have to figure it out once I get better and manage to think.

  Where was Grant? Oddly enough, the ''Turtangle'' was nowhere to be seen, too. Where could have such a massive body disappeared to? All right, I should get up and have a good look around.

  I began to move again and immediately froze when my right hand bumped into someone's body. I turned my head and stared blankly at Grant who had been lying on his back next to me. I felt my heart breaking. The handle of the dagger was sticking from his chest. His face was unnaturally calm. He was dead. Truly dead. The dagger in his chest was, after all, no ordinary dagger.

  What the hell was going on?!

  Instinctively, I grabbed the dagger's smooth hilt with the intent of pulling the awful thing out of my comrade's body.

  ''Hands off!'' shouted the cleric, voice hoarse and angry. ''That's not your trophy. I didn't bust my ass for you!''

  I turned around. Pain shot through my neck.

  ''Why?!''

  Pops didn't waste words explaining things.

  But, his eyes spoke for him. They were the eyes of a killer. He swung with force, and his hammer flew towards my face. In a desperate attempt to dodge, I threw myself back. The dagger, the handle of which I never let go of, slipped out of Grant's body, spraying blood. I fell right into the humming drain funnel.

  The icy water took me into its arms and pulled me into the darkness.

  ***

  The steep cliffs rising from both sides squeezed the stormy stream, which uncontrollably carried me along the mountain river.

  I struggled to remain on the surface. Everyone has a limit, after all. But I refused to die in such an inglorious way. So I summoned the last bits of my strength. Icy water threatened to drown me; the surges, born from the collision of the current with underwater rocks, were twisting and throwing my body. In panic, I thought about getting rid of the cuirass to reduce the weight, but the leather straps, firmly tightened on the sides, didn't allow me to carry out my reckless idea. After all, the plate weighed almost nothing, and it kind of protected me from the stone ledges. And yet, each time it was more difficult to emerge to the surface to grab a mouthful of air, and extinguish the fire burning in the lungs from the lack of oxygen.

  From somewhere underwater came a rumble. After another convulsive attempt to emerge, I shook my head and used the moment before diving to have a look around. I was able to discern an opening between the rocks. It was approaching quickly. I caught a glimpse of the azure sky, the sun and the white clouds. The stone gorge, and the river which rushed through it, ended in a sudden drop.

  I was inevitably carried to the waterfall, and I had no idea what awaited me there. Perhaps, it was a short drop; or, more likely, I was about to fall from a huge height into an abyss full of sharp rocks.

  A few seconds later, I realized that I was in for the worst of the two. The rumble quickly escalated into a low, heavy roar, causing me to swear and despair. The foaming water crest and the rocky ledges were quite close; beyond that was only the void.

  The current wagged whimsically; my body got turned and thrown sideways, and the breastplate scraped against the bumpy wall on the right. I threw my head back so as not to smash my face against the stone and, without looking, tried to cling onto anything. Several dozen feet separated me from the precipice.

  My fingers got caught in a crevice.

  The jerk almost dislocated my wrist, but I still achieved my goal. Water immediately foamed around my head and shoulders, viciously trying to tear me away from the ledge and carry me off. My muscles were so stiff that I could hardly feel my own body. With some difficulty, I straightened my neck and looked up, examining the wall. The chasm was a broken line, splitting the rock every couple of feet. It was not that high, but after everything I had been through, such a height seemed insurmountable. It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing.

  So I climbed.

  The hardest thing was to get out of the water, as the river seemed reluctant to let go of my hands and feet. But the chasm was more convenient than it had appeared at first. I put my left hand forward, pulled myself up, and grabbed the next ledge with my right. Finding a footrest, I jammed my foot into a crevice, straightened my back, and pushed my body up. Fingers stripped to the bone burned like acid and left bloody marks on the gray granite. But I tried to not pay attention to such little things. Everything could be endured when you were clinging to life.

  Finally, my hand reached the top ledge. One last effort and I crawled onto the ledge and collapsed on my back, arms shaking, and breathing hard. Water dripped from my clothes, flowing from under the cuirass, and got quickly absorbed into the dry stone. My mouth was filled with blood. I spat, swore and, feeling cutting pain, immediately regretted it. I almost bit off my tongue, and wouldn't be able to talk anytime soon.

  Ligaments, muscles, bones, innards - everything hurt. But the fact that I was still alive was more important, I would figure out the rest later.

  The problem was that with the full fatigue bar even the avatar was not able to move. And yet, I mustered some strength to raise my head and look around. Everything was swaying and spots were floating before my eyes from overstrain, but what I saw on the left made me shudder. There was about ten feet to the abyss, the bottom of which, hidden in the white mist, could not be seen. But if you turned away from the cleft, the view was much more positive; a series of flat stone ledges, like giant steps, led to the crest, behind which green treetops could be seen. There certainly was a plateau or a valley there. I could probably get back to "Daisy" from there.

  Unless the killer gets to me first.

  Somehow, I had no doubt that Gramps would look for me. The "Soulcatcher" was still with me, after all. The fact that in this pandemonium, the backpack, where I'd managed to shove the dagger while falling, stayed with me felt like a miracle.

  No, that wasn't right.

  With a trembling hand, I pulled the bag from under me, and dragged it to my chest. Fingers suddenly felt the edges of a torn hole the size of a fist, gaping from the side. The fabric got torn by something sharp. Maybe it got damaged while I was climbing. Just when I thought that all went to shit, my eyes sparked from excitement. With a convulsive jerk I unfastened the bag and unceremoniously dumped all of its contents onto the stone surfa
ce. The dagger fell on top of a pile of wet wood with a dull slap. Morning sunlight caressed the translucent blade as thick as a needle, but didn't pass through it or refract on the objects under it. The blade drew the rays into itself, concentrating them in the shining cocoon of the amber handle.

  "Soulcatcher"

  The Destroyer's ritual dagger.

  Damage: 1-1

  Built-in ability: "Absorb Soul"

  Charge: 0/1

  Recovery: ∞

  Cannot be used. The object is soulbound to "The Destroyer".

  If I wasn't feeling so dead inside, I'd laugh in relief. I managed only to curve my lips, not paying attention to the blood that was continuously trickling down my chin. I didn't lose it, the dagger was in place. I had to clean myself up.

  Alas, the belt was empty; no flasks nor potions. Either the river took them, or they fell while I was climbing the wall. There was no way for me to get to the water; not in this state. Only sleep could, somewhat, improve the situation. But Pops could find me while I slept. I had no weapons left either; neither the "Bone Slayer", nor the "Flame", only the "Soulcatcher", with a damage of 1-1. I couldn't imagine how the game mechanics worked in this case. How could it be possible to cause so little damage by plunging the blade to the hilt into someone's flesh? However, the "Soulcatcher's" purpose was not physical damage. It went in like a needle and drained the soul together with all of the available saves. There was nothing but death after that.

  The best revenge would be to not to let Pops take possession of the dagger. Should I throw it into the abyss and jump after it? Yea, I would wake up in the "Replicator", but then I wouldn't be this sore. Like hell I would do that. What was I trying so hard for? Wasn't I desperately fighting for my saves? It was intolerable to think that everything had been in vain. That the guys died for nothing. That Grant died for nothing. I still couldn't get over it…

  The "Duplicator"! That was the only way to buy time and ruin someone's plans. If I bind the "Soulcatcher" to my soul, like Owl had done with the sphere, that would be worth dying for. I'd wake up in the "Replicator" with the trophy. There was no need to delay. I had to do it before I passed out.

  Making a decision, I reached out…

  Looking at the pile of wood and the dagger, I felt mortified. No "Duplicator". The weighty, round and smooth object, which had nothing holding it, simply fell through the hole in the bag. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to sit up, lean against the rock and close my eyes. My memory was a hodgepodge of individual scenes and each cut into me deeper than any knife could. One by one, they flashed by, stitched together by strips of void.

  Fuck it!

  I reached for the dagger with the intent to throw it into the abyss. Alas, the remaining will to fight faded, crushed by the fatigue, like a hut by a mountain avalanche, and impenetrable blackness flooded my vision.

  ***

  A distant voice reached me.

  I lifted my head, heavy as a rock, and opened my eyes.

  Before me stood the enemy who had once been a friend. Instinctively trying to get up, I realized that I couldn't. I had no strength left in me. I didn't know how long it had been since I blacked out, but the sun was high in the sky, and the rocks were starting to warm up. It was strange that the fatigue bar was still almost full and that I felt like a complete wreck. Damn dead rocks, it was impossible to recover from them.

  The cleric looked shabby and tired. The chainmail was torn on the shoulder and side, and the sleeves of the cloth robe under it were torn to shreds. However, his movements were quite energetic and confident. His hammer was leaned against the chipped side of the large boulder, and he sat nearby. Pops was busy, and I couldn't stop him. Confidently, with no hurry, he pulled a "Duplicator" from his backpack, and put it near the confiscated "Soulcatcher".

  As soon as both objects twitched hazily and the process began, the cleric rose and sat down on the nearest boulder. He slowly took some tobacco out of his pouch, filled a smoking pipe with it, and lit it with sparking lighter; a cunning device in which a "soc" had been inserted instead of fuel. Both items must have had belonged to Grant. Only after he had taken the first puff did Pops look inquisitively in my direction. He could afford it, doing everything without haste. He outplayed me. I didn't even feel angry about it. In fact, I didn't feel anything at all. As if the fatigue extinguished everything inside me. I watched indifferently, feeling like an outside spectator.

  ''I am the one in control now, you do get that, right?'' finally spoke the cleric. ''And, nevertheless, I want to negotiate a truce before Grant's fate is known to the rest of the 'Hunters'. That's right, I'm going to stay in the clan and squeeze the best out of it. And yes, I have no reason to kill you now. Sending you flying into the abyss while you are unconscious would be the easiest thing to do. By the local moronic rules, I wouldn't even lose a save, as the system wouldn't register it as a direct murder. The abyss would take care of you. But I have the 'Soulcatcher', so why not try and negotiate? I mean, I could toss you into the abyss at any time.''

  How did that bastard manage to find me? I was trying to ask, but my throat was full of blood, and I could barely breathe. I managed to squeeze out only one word.

  ''How…?''

  ''How did I find you?'' he sucked on the pipe again, releasing a thick blob of bluish smoke. ''Yeah, I'd be interested in that, too. I'll tell you a little secret. The one on whom I use the 'Lash of Pain' gets the mark of my patron – the God of Pain and Deceit, 'Alan the Dark'. I can see this mark from any distance. However, the terrain here is confusing. I had to run to find you, and I even had to leave the furster in the valley. Now, perhaps, you want to know about Red?''

  I nodded. A fearsome patron like the one that the cleric had, had to be hidden from the teammates, as to not to alert them ahead of time.

  ''The girl's alright. Fortunately, she survived, which worked in my favor. From the exit, I heroically carried her in my arms. Two lone survivors,'' Pops snickered. ''As soon as Cavalier figured that no one else was coming, he immediately took care of the girl, leaving all the questions for later. And I quietly took off to tend to some unfinished business.''

  ''Murderer…''

  ''I don't like you interruptions,'' the cleric frowned. ''This is more of a monologue than a conversation. I feel like I am talking to myself. Let's make a deal. I give you a jar, and you promise not to do anything stupid? Ok?'' Not waiting for an answer, Pops threw me a flask. ''Have a sip of the elixir. There's just a sip left in it. It will be more than enough. I should have gotten more from Cavalier, but I was in a hurry.''

  It turns out that, back in the "Oasis", Pops drank my potion, while preserving his. What a smartass motherfucker. Unscrewing the lid, I poured the refreshing liquid into my mouth. The pain subsided as if by magic. It was so wonderful that I even closed my eyes.

  ''About 'The Killer' quest… You've guessed it right,'' Pops continued, as if nothing had happened. ''If, along the way, one doesn't complete the quest, which you all shun away from so much, the experience for "The Destroyer" isn't enough to reach level ten. But it was easy to figure it all out when everything was already laid out on a silver platter, especially since I had the ability to hide the combat log. You must have seen them before the system erased them.''

  I wished. I had no time to review the logs while I was fighting for my life in the icy water, which was carrying me towards the abyss.

  ''What did you...get? For Grant?''

  Pops laughed, not hiding his great mood. ''Got experience, of course. But it's nothing compared to the main bonus. My saves have tripled, Wise. I now have nine lives like the proverbial cat. But how much work had to be done to make everything work out properly. Why don't I tell you? There's no need to hurry now. You thought that creating a clan would protect your back, but you just let me get closer to Grant. He was my target. Alice was just stopping me from getting close to him, that crazy bitch. But, thank 'Alan the Dark', as soon as the right set of circumstances arose…''

  ''Did
Owl know about your plans?'' I hoarsely interrupted him.

  ''Where from? The kid is like a weather vane - he turns where you point him. And he's awfully naïve, too. Although, when Alice expelled us from the clan, he managed to surprise me. I thought he would rush after her, fall on his skinny knees and tearfully beg for forgiveness. But he stayed with us,'' the cleric sucked on his pipe and shook his head. ''And then you gave me a great gift. A new clan! And I even got to participate in the campaign against "The Destroyer" with Grant. All I had to do was to implement the idea of the five men party into your weak minds in time and play a jealous man who cared more about the girl than the dagger. It is easy to attract a person to your side, if you promise to get them exactly what they crave. To persuade the others, with competent arguments, was easier than it seemed. Besides, why tear your ass, taming a God-knows-what, if there's a pet ready and willing? The healer and the victim being the same person? Pretty good, huh?''

  Gramps was elated by his triumph, and suffering from some kind of a verbal diarrhea. Even his eyes shone with pleasure. Had he gotten tired of the disguise and couldn't resist gloating? Was he feeling relief? Was he just tooting his own horn?

  I didn't answer. I felt something both strange and familiar at the same time. That was what woke me up, not the cleric. Suddenly I understood. Fury! She was nearby. The beast was looking for me. Cavalier must have not been paying attention, if pets had been running away from him. But that worked for me. The "Direcat" was already quite close. I needed only to help her, to buy some time…

  And while waiting for her, I should think about how to break the cleric's neck and where to get strength to do it. The "Soulcatcher" was itself a materialized spell. By killing Grant, "The Destroyer" sucked out his soul. I remembered how Owl duplicated the magic sphere. When he first got it the "discharged" and "infinity" statuses clearly showed that the mage would never obtain "The Last Argument". But after soulbinding it, the charge had appeared. What if…

  The cleric laughed condescendingly, catching me staring at the "Soulcatcher". He pat the handle of his hammer.