by Arthur Stone
The smaller ghouls did not even offer symbolic resistance. It was simply crushed.
Cheater had been watching the fight, but he realized that seconds later—or perhaps minutes later—the colossus would continue where the previous one had left off. Searching for the source of the fresh man smell. The elite’s olfactory capabilities were powerful, so there was no doubt that it would find him quickly, especially at close range.
He didn’t want to wait for that to happen.
OK, now is the best time. The elite was tearing apart its defeated enemy, its back turned to Cheater. Its head was bent down, so its twitches sometimes gave the man a look under the lower part of the hood covering its sporesac.
Cheater put the barrel of the rifle out the widow and attached a simple sight. The creature was less than fifty yards away, so this was an easy target even for a lousy shooter. For Cheater, it was as good as point blank.
But alas, the ghoul suddenly turned around, tossing away a detached arm still spraying blood as it went. Now, his foe would notice his attic window position for sure. Moving, hiding—doing anything, in fact—would be futile. But then he received a lightbulb moment.
This next moment was his last tiny chance. All moments after that would see his chances set square at zero. Without delay, he activated Smile of Fortune and fired at a difficult target: the elite’s eye. Cheater knew that developed beasts had their eyes overgrown with armor so mighty a World War I tank would be jealous. But what else could he do? Everything else was better protected.
He saw no other option.
The monster stumbled, waving its arms wildly, and dropped to its knees, shaking its head. All of this only registered peripherally with Cheater, who was completely focused on reloading.
Dammit. What an ancient piece of junk! The gun was ancient enough that the Neanderthals probably shot mammoths with it once. The least modern men could have done would be to fit it with some kind of semiautomatic mechanism.
As Cheater was reloading, the elite continue shaking its head and fell fully prone, then began to crawl forward, menacingly yet quickly, towards Cheater’s position. Instead of being frightened, the man was delighted. The world was still dancing in the colors of luck, and he likely still had another shot that would fall under the buffing effect. And the closer his target got, the better his chances.
The time for the shot itself came. Still the elite twitched its head, with its four limbs splayed out. Burying its face in the ground, it began to grumble intermittently, scraping the ground, stubbornly summoning the strength to keep moving. Cheater couldn’t see its eyes now, nor did he have any view of the sporesac, the open approach to which was pointing the other way.
Leaving the rifle and ignoring the ladder, Cheater climbed through the window and jumped to the ground, but he failed to keep his footing, so he rolled left, jumped up, and rushed at the beast. The beast was seriously hurt somewhere, but the wound had not been fatal, and elites’ regeneration was insane. He couldn’t count on the monster being out of action for long.
Despite the fact that its face was buried in the ground, the elite sensed its prey approaching. Shaking all over, it raised its head slightly, waving its paw around in an awkward, blinded fashion. Reaching Cheater from that distance wasn’t going to happen, but still the man recoiled as he ran around the creature’s back. Dropping to one knee behind the beast, Cheater raised his bow. A gun would have been much better in the situation, but he had needed to sell all of his firearms.
At least the bow would make less noise.
The first arrow made the elite twitch and grumble further. Attempts to turn its head ended in failure. Cheater had to shuffle two steps over in order to maintain a clear view of the infected’s most vulnerable spot.
He fired four arrows in succession before the beast finally heaved out its death sigh and exhibited the characteristic leg convulsions. The man moved quickly to the first infected. Three of its limbs were broken, and the fourth was torn off. Its back was torn up, and yet the bastard was alive, staring in dumb fury as it wriggled its head, trying to reach him with its teeth.
Cheater jumped on the creature’s back.
The beast moved one leg to attempt to get him—and barely missed, even though the limb was severely broken, its knee bent the wrong way. Its spine was damaged, at least, though not fully paralyzed. Crouching down, the hunter grabbed the protective hood covering the sporesac with one hand and used the other to drive the blade of his knife under it. He thrust several times until he felt the steel push into the pliable sac wall. He began to twist.
The beast’s carcass shuddered, and then its mangled legs trembled.
That was two.
Cheater rushed to the barn. He had to get back up to the attic as quickly as possible, which might be difficult since the ladder was still raised and unable to lower itself. Time was of the essence—the two shots he had fired were from a weapon of extreme volume, and if nearby creatures had determined the direction the noise had come from, his struggle wasn’t over yet. Any new ghouls needed to be faced from a position of full combat readiness, which meant being near the rifle.
Cheater didn’t even make it back to the barn. He stopped abruptly.
Or more correctly, something stopped him.
It was a fresh assault, carried out by a slew of red letters and numbers.
Alert: Personal victory: extremely dangerous infected destroyed. Level 67. Chance of valuable loot: 100%. Personal victory: extremely dangerous infected destroyed. Level 44. Chance of valuable loot: 100%. Congratulations! That was a wonderful battle. You used combined tactics, waiting when necessary and striking swiftly when necessary, and as a result you defeated two powerful opponents. A rare triumph! You have received 140 distributable base stat progress points. You have received 60 distributable bonus stat progress points. +77 progress points to Strength. +105 progress points to Agility. +277 progress points to Speed. +94 progress points to Endurance. +334 progress points to Willpower. +1 progress point to Perception. +116 progress points to Stealth. +67 progress points to Reaction. +211 progress points to Accuracy. +49 progress points to Luck. +147 Humanity points. Level up! Congratulations, you are now level 16.
He couldn’t believe that no infecteds had heard those shots. This wasn’t the most populated area, but the beasts did wander by regularly, and these two had come from a different direction entirely. It was no wonder that the System had mockingly given him one single point for Perception. Cheater had been watching in the wrong direction. His ears had saved him this time, rather than his eyes.
In most cases, a victory message meant the battle was over. That wasn’t one hundred percent certain, but most people acted like it was.
Cheater drew his knife. There was no point leaving the loot lying around.
He went for the elite first, of course. Level 67. Not the strongest of elites. This class of beast ranged from level 62 to level 100. The youngest weighed a single ton, and the veterans weight as many as four. There were beasts bigger than that, but Cheater never wanted to encounter such monsters. Neither rifles nor grenade launchers could hurt them.
Unless, of course, his cheater’s Accuracy and Luck formed an exception to that. He hadn’t been experienced enough to assess the level of that elite wounded by the squad of immunes at the beginning of his time here, but he had assumed it was an “elite elite.” It had given him three pearls, of various colors, and he might have missed even more, given that it had been dark, his hands had been shaking in terror, and he had no idea what was going on.
A grenade launcher had taken that beast down. It hadn’t quite killed it, just stunned it, and Cheater had finished it off with a knife to the sporesac.
But everyone said that “elite elites” were capable of withstanding dozens or even hundreds of grenade hits. Either that player had hit a vulnerable spot, or his weapon had been enhanced with some armor penetration mod. Or perhaps some ability had made the shot count.
All of these thoughts swam through his hea
d as he hastily opened the back of the elite’s head and raked the loot into his bag. Spores, peas, stars, amber, kernels, and nuts of various types, colors, and shapes.
But not one single pearl.
So much for super luck. Some rumor he had heard said that a guy with good Luck collected the most profit from ghoul sacs. His whole party had a greater chance of finding the most valuable loot.
So what was going on? This was the fourth elite Cheater had killed. No one would believe that a newcomer who wasn’t even level 20 yet had achieved such a track record. But the loot from this elite, like the loot from the last, was relatively poor. For all of his work, he had obtained only two pearls, both of the black. The cheapest and worst kind. Of course not every elite would have pearls, and the monsters he had defeated were far from the strongest in the world, but the results were still depressing.
Especially when he remembered that he had wasted the second pearl.
But right now, he needed to pacify these feelings and move on to the other beast. There he found a couple of golden peas, and the rest was decent. Cheater had a new supply of loot he could use to pump meters and stats, including those that could not reasonably be developed any other way. Take the Ward of STYX stat, for example. That was what was responsible for the Spirit of STYX meter’s capacity and recharge speed. In other words, it boosted a player’s mana. But to pump that stat, your Spirit of STYX meter had to be partially empty, and you had to complete a kill with magic.
Another boost stat was Talent Rank. Leveling up that stat improved current abilities. Some people said that enough levels might even get the System to get you a new ability, but that was unproven. It could only be developed by consuming loot and by killing with the exclusive use of magic.
How was Cheater supposed to kill things with magic? His ability was not a combat ability. It was just a random buff. Activating it increased his chances at a favorable outcome. He had used Smile of Fortune many times now, with varying degrees of success, but no points had been assigned to Talent Rank or Ward of STYX.
At least there was loot. Treasures that pump Spirit of STYX did so only mildly, but the Talent Rank pumps were great. The first one only bumped him up to 3, but the second took him all the way to 11. He could use distributable points for Spirit if he needed too, since he earned plenty of those.
Without knowing why, Cheater raised his head and looked to the right and froze. He was staring a monster right in the eyes. It stood in a hole in a fence created by one of its forbearers. It was around level 30 and stood awkwardly on its grasshopper-like legs. The beast was at the stage where its musculoskeletal system began a radical reformation. Its bones were changing rapidly, as well, and living armor was forming all over its body, quite superior to the spotty protection boasted by rafflers.
The trampler was quite unexpected. After all, the System had already given him the victory message that had assured him everything was fine.
Filthy liar.
It wasn’t the worst of the monsters, but he needed more than a pistol. An automatic rifle was the minimum requirement unless you wanted to lose a life. Even then, one magazine may not be enough, unless your aim is good or the bullets are armor-piercing.
Cheater didn’t have any of those. Not even a pistol. He had a rifle, but it was inaccessible. The ladder wasn’t even lowered, and a trampler would catch him before he made it halfway, anyway. Without martial arts skills, he didn’t have a chance in hand-to-hand combat.
The monster continued watching his main course for that day, then roared from deep within its gut, tensing up for a deadly leap.
Cheater kept watching the beast, too, and reached for his bow.
He knew that taking such a creature head on with a bow was a foolish thought. At this distance, he could only release one arrow, and this was the sort of target that needed a dozen.
One hand grabbed the bow and the other an arrow.
The monster surged forward, and Cheater realized it was pointless. The ghoul was just too developed and too fast, and his weapon too weak.
There was no time.
Clenching his teeth, eyes anchored on the messenger of death rushing at him, Cheater whipped up his bow, desperately hoping he had time to release a single arrow. Not to kill it, but to scratch it at least, before those claws and fangs tore into his body and he disintegrated into a worthless pile of rags.
Cheater almost made it. But then he heard a muffled shot, and the trampler relaxed, stumbled forward, and collapsed. Its sporesac was the new home to a gaping hole.
The archer readied himself to be shot, but then gaped at March in the breach of the fence. The man stepped over the carnage of the field and approached casually, tossing the absurdly thick barrel of his compact rifle over his shoulder.
His voice sounded like the weary tones of a wise man forced by circumstance to communicate with a dullard.
“I would’ve thought you learned not to aim at me by now.”
“I’m not aiming at you.”
“Who then?”
“Sorry, I... I didn’t think,” Cheater dropped his bow.
“Well, what are you just standing there for?”
“Should I lie down instead?”
“As long as you do something useful while you do. Gut your friends here and I’ll take my share. Just be quick about it. The faster we finish up here, the faster we can have a few beers. Oh, I brought the beer, in case you didn’t.”
Chapter 23
Life Seven: Mysterious Comrade
March stepped confidently out of the bushes sharply and moved across the road. Cheater followed, looking around in every direction. He noticed an abandoned vehicle about a hundred yards away, with objects that looked like bones scattered all around. Then, visibility plummeted again as they entered the dense brush on the other side of the road.
Without saying a word, his companion walked on, barely touching any of the branches in his way and the twigs on the ground, which was incredible given the thickness of the thicket. Despite all of his efforts, Cheater made much more noise. He was bigger, yes—March was neither tall nor broad of shoulders, and though he did have a beer belly, he wasn’t quite fat.
With one or two more years of alcoholism, though, Cheater’s strange friend might undergo a number of unpleasant changes. Or did excess weight disappear when you respawned?
He’d have to check on that.
The forest stopped, as if cut off by a knife. It was too much of a contract to be natural, and a crack ran along the ground, whose level changed sharply from one side to the other. A cluster border. The System would send him a message with a small amount of information on their new location imminently.
A field of oats sat in front of them, with the gardens of a small, poor farm village ahead.
March kept the same pace, fearlessly marching out into the open. “That village has a store where we can replenish our beer supply.”
Cheater kept up as he asked the question that was nagging at him the most. “Are you sure the village is clean?”
“Are you nuts? No farm village is clean. Cows, pigs, chickens, all that. Actually, some farmers are pretty good at shitting their places up, too.”
“Come on, you know what I mean.”
“Of course there’ll be ghouls there. All of those cows and pigs smell great, even if nothing but gnawed bones remains of them.”
“And you don’t care that we’re just waltzing around out in the open?”
“Cheat, you just used a bow to kill an elite, so why so nervous all of a sudden? I believe in you. Whatever’s there, I’m sure you could kill it with your left pinky.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“Oh hey, look at that beauty! He must have been eavesdropping. And he brought along a whole support group! Come on, buddy, show me those Robin Hood skills. I want to see a good show.”
Cheater swore to himself as he tossed the rifle to the ground, careful to make sure the muzzle brake didn’t take a hit. He grabbed his bow, and he
was ready.
A raffler rushed at them from the village, moving its swollen legs briskly through the gardens and towards the field of oats. Two runners followed behind, at a respectable distance. But they were lagging behind more and more with each passing second. One leader and two followers who ate the crumbs that fell from their leader’s table.
Of course, if famine hit, the followers themselves would become the main course. It was pretty handy to lead around self-propelled food reserves, actually.
A raffler was a dangerous beast. Fast, agile, and a bit better than stupid, it was equipped with decent claws and strength that could easily overpower the average man. Close up, it was a bad enemy even against a well-leveled player.
But this one was far away, a ten-second run across an open field. And rafflers had a trait that was highly valued by those attacking with low-powered weapons like a bow.
Monsters of this level didn’t have armor yet. Their skin was growing thicker and coarser, yes, and starting to harden in some places along the head and spine, but no one could properly call these patches “armor.”
Cheater fired when the beast was at twenty-five paces. He shot at the beast’s right eye, just in case the arrow did not prove fatal. Then at least he’d had time to throw his knife at the blinded ghoul.
But his plan was unnecessary. The beast collapsed at full speed and tumbled a few more yards through the oats.
Ignoring March’s implied suggestion that he deal with these ghouls with long-range weapons exclusively, Cheater dropped the bow to his feet, pulled his ax from its belt loop, and twirled it in his hand. This pair didn’t scare him.
They were just runners. No sense risking arrows on them. Although arrows could in theory be used over and over, in practice things were different. A lesion of the sporesac didn’t stop a ghoul’s movement immediately. The killing arrow could easily end up snapped by the ghoul’s fall or in its dying convulsions. So Cheater took every opportunity he had to deal with a beast without using his bow.