A Cat and His Human (League of Losers Book #1): LitRPG Series

by Atamanov, Michael

  But unfortunately, not everyone survived. Anna, Grip’s wife, had been sent back to the spawn point. The heroic Edward Samarsky died. Three of the non-combatant villagers bought it too. Varya Tolmachyova had taken two bullets to the stomach; her father Max Dubovitsky was leaning over his daughter, trying to help her stop the blood. For old Pan, that death was his ninth — his last and final…

  I looked over the battlefield. Corpses, blood, Varya lying wounded and moaning… I walked over to the porch and picked up my axe. The most cool-headed of the surviving villagers were already looting Haze and Hulk. Rumbler pick up Hulk’s machine-pistol in front of me. I was in no hurry to collect trophies. I was too shocked by what had happened.

  Whiskers the kitten ran up and rubbed himself against my leg. He’d reached level sixteen. It was strange, but the nameplate above the critter was blue now. What did that mean? And Haze… He’d told his bodyguard to kill my kitten. What beef could an experienced player have with a pet cat? Was it the Hexxer class that bothered him?

  I stroked the critter and Whiskers purred in pleasure and ran to the wounded Varya. I followed after him. Understanding that now was far from the best time, I spoke to the Engineer as he tore his shirt into strips.

  “They’ll respawn in fifteen minutes behind the storehouse. All three of them. And they’ll be furious. We need to be ready.”

  Max Dubovitsky placed the rags of his shirt against his daughter’s stomach, raised his tired eyes.

  “They won’t respawn, Sergeant. I mean… they will, but not here. Somewhere very far away. This is an internal respawn point for us only. And I already removed Haze, Hulk and Badass from the list of residents at Pan’s Landing. As for their companion Edward Samarsky, I haven’t decided yet…”

  “Let him stay! Please. I’ll take responsibility!” I never thought I’d hear myself saying that, but my former enemy had forced me to rethink my opinion of him. Now I was even willing to vouch for him.

  “Alright. He can stay. And, Sergeant…” The Engineer paused, sighed heavily. “Forgive me! You were absolutely right to suspect those three. And I didn’t believe you. My mistake has cost the village dearly.”

  Chapter 25 [Kitten]

  Plans for the Future

  I SAT ON THE ROOF of the watchtower and watched as the humans prepared to send the late Pan on his last journey. The men of the village had hammered together a big wooden platform, upon which they laid the body. The old Hunter was dressed in a nice and warm waterproof suit that most of the villagers could only dream of possessing, yet nobody would even think of stealing from the dead man. Only his .303 rifle went to the armory at Grip’s house, although without rounds, there wasn’t much use in the gun.

  Eight men carried the pyre away and placed it above the firewall ditch. Grip led the funeral procession, white as death, out of his sickbed for the first time. And it was he who gave the farewell speech, speaking of his friend’s wisdom and experience, of how much he’d taught the rest of them. From the villagers’ conversations, I realized that Grip was now the most senior resident in Pan’s Landing.

  Hot flame engulfed the body. The villagers began to depart for their homes. Only Jonathon Gripson, who hadn’t yet recovered from his wounds, refused to return home in spite of his wife’s urgings. He remained by the firewall, standing watch and banking up the fire. I saw tears on Grip’s face — the mighty Warrior was truly saddened by his friend’s death and wanted to be with him until the end.

  Since the workshop had burned down, Sergeant, his sister Julie and Shelly were offered the small room in the common house — the same one given to Haze and his band. Only Max Dubovitsky and Grip considered it an unreasonable luxury to house only three people in the room when the other residents were crammed together like sardines in a can. Two more straw mattresses were dragged in, earmarked for the Philosopher and Glutton. The conditions were just as crowded as in the workshop, but nobody complained.

  The night was murky — the perfect time for felines like me. But something about today made me not want to go anywhere. I’d had enough chaos and excitement for one night. I laid down next to Julie, letting her hug me and hold me close like a teddy-bear. I meowed diligently and calmed the girl down. It took a long time for Julie to fall asleep — as soon as she started to drift off, she saw nightmares from the fire and jerked awake with a scream. Eventually, my efforts bore fruit. Julie calmed and fell asleep.

  Soothe skill increased to level twelve!

  As for me, I couldn’t fall asleep no matter how I tried. I kept turning that battle with Haze and Hulk over in my head again and again. The ease with which the experienced mage saw me and determined the threat in spite of my active invisibility and translucent form scared me. And it turned out that in conditions when the opponent had a lot more mana than me, Mana Drain didn’t do much. To make sure, I cast the spell twice in the fight, but even draining six Mana Points per second was more of a psychological effect than a real threat. It made the mage switch his attention to a new combatant.

  If it weren’t for Pan, who had used his last bullet as well as he possibly could have and taken out Haze, me and my master would have been mincemeat even with my magic and Sergeant’s psionic-blocking ring. And that was terrifying, since Haze could probably remember me, and the next time we crossed paths he would treat the little ginger kitten with all seriousness. I couldn’t know when that meeting would take place — tomorrow, in a day or even a year — but somehow I felt sure that I’d run into Haze again. And other magic-wielding players too.

  What could I do in that situation? My spellbook was still very thin, and I didn’t have much mana. I had another skill slot available, but I wanted to save it until level twenty, when I’d be able to choose my third type of magic. I’d only get new skill slots at level twenty-five, when my game class finally became fixed and no changes would be possible.

  In the meantime, it seemed like I had to deal with what I had. I could level up Mysticism, which increased my total mana and its restoration speed. Strengthen Curse Magic, and Transformation Magic couldn’t be discounted either. I wouldn’t mind adding some variety to the list of creatures that my Whiskers could transform into, and figure out how to make transformations last longer. Were there mutations for that? I opened the game manual and went to Transformation Magic.

  Increased speed and creature stamina… Increased combat stats… Ability to vary in size — the creature will be bigger or smaller than usual. Hmm. Interesting, only not right now. The ability to talk to similar creatures… No, there were no mutations that increased the time until I turned back into a cat. Maybe I was doing something wrong. There must be some way!

  A suspicious rustle in the room drew my attention. I perked up my ears, raised my head. Shelly had stood up quietly and was walking on her tiptoes to Sergeant’s bed, trying not to make any noise. She laid down right on the edge of it. In spite of all the Huntress’s attempts to make no noise or otherwise disturb him, my master woke. Shelly’s eyes gleamed in the darkness.

  “Serrrgeant, may I lie with you? I am sad and frrrightened.”

  The big human blearily opened and closed his eyes a few seconds, then finally moved. The furry Huntress laid down next to the human and cuddled up to him. I barely heard her whisper:

  “You save me twice. Frrrom arachnoscorrrp and frrrom firrre. And kiss me on lips. Everyone saw. By law of veichs, I am your woman now. But I do not know laws of humans. I do not even know what I think. Who am I forrr you now? Tell me, so I know.”

  A curious way to phrase the question. I wondered what Sergeant would say. I really hoped that the big lumbering idiot would have enough sense not to say anything like “that was just mouth-to-mouth, not a kiss, and get away from me, I’ve only known you three days.” But Sergeant said nothing. He just hugged Shelly and kissed her furry cheek. At first the girl was taken aback, and even tried to pull away from his embrace, but stopped resisting almost at once and pressed herself even closer to him.

  For a while, they
just lay there holding each other. Then Sergeant whispered something very quietly in her ear. Even my sensitive hearing didn’t catch it. But the Huntress understood, got embarrassed and laughed.

  “Now you definitely flirrrting with me! I am glad you like me. But I still want answer to my question…”

  “Guys, come on! Let me sleep!” Glutton’s displeased voice interrupted their talk.

  “Let them sweet-talk each other,” the Philosopher said, also turning out to be awake, “humans have to somehow learn to coexist with the veichs. Interracial relationships are helpful. Might come in handy in the future.”

  Shelly was not a fan of this sudden involvement of their roommates. With ears laid back against her head in embarrassment, she jumped off Sergeant and scurried back to her own bed. Then she covered herself from head to toe in a cloak woven from plant fibers and didn’t make another sound.

  The show was over for today. I drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  Morning came with bright sunshine, a cloudless sky and a warm summer’s breeze. The beautiful weather showed in the humans’ mood. The villagers of Pan’s Landing smiled, greeted each other and joked. All their worries and fears seemed a thing of the past, and yesterday’s bloody slaughter was somehow infinitely far away. Especially since there was reason to celebrate — the construction of another big house was starting today. It could house fifteen people at once. Everyone was already sick of the crowding, so the players burned with the desire to work together and solve the problem within the net couple of days. There were more than enough materials in the storehouse — the Engineer confirmed that.

  Even the Hunters weren’t going far from the village today, just patrolling in the morning in search of the tracks of those three dangerous players in case they respawned nearby. But no, the area was clear. No sign of Haze and his gang. So the Hunters came back early to take up hammer and saw with the other villagers and work on the big construction site. All the newcomers, Sergeant and even Shelly were told not to wander and to do what they could to help with the building effort.

  At breakfast, where all the villagers except the wounded Varya Tolmachyova were gathered in the big dining room, the Philosopher turned to an interesting subject — what exactly did the villagers want? Just to survive? That seemed somehow too trivial, a trifling goal for these envoys of great humanity, taken away to play this new great game. Was it for this that a miracle saved us all from death, just to become like animals, desire nothing but food and a warm burrow?

  Many of those at the table tried to find answers to these apparently simple questions, but the Philosopher easily shattered all their arguments. Finally, Max Dubovitsky offered his answer as one of the leaders of Pan’s Landing.

  “We’re here to study this world that we have to inhabit and understand the new conditions. To grow from a small island into a large settlement, and over time, into a city! To give humans another place, an alternative to slavery and imprisonment with the New Pharaohs.”

  “I can’t speak of the New Pharaohs. I don’t know enough about them yet. But does a wretched existence in a ‘sandbox for noobs’ really help you study the wider world?” the Philosopher argued back. “Take for example Mr. Jonathon Grip sitting over there. He’s the most experienced and respected resident of Pan’s Landing. Grip has spent ‘around a hundred and fifty days’ in the new world, by his own words. But does he know anything at all about the big world beyond the forcefield?”

  Yawning at the breakfast table after a sleepless night, Grip shook his head no. Moreover, the gloomy Warrior even got involved in the conversation, started supporting the Philosopher.

  “I really don’t know anything about the world beyond the forcefield. And my dead friend Pan, although he’d been in this world twice as long as me, also knew very little about the wider world. And that’s bad.”

  The Engineer and all the others said nothing. The Philosopher continued.

  “Yes, the big new world is better studied from within, not from an isolated and very limited area. But even in the sandbox, you can learn much about the new world. For one thing, at least on an elementary level, you can find out how long the days last here. From that, you could create a clock adapted for the local time. Measure how long the day lasts, understand its rhythm and you can find out how many days there are in a year. Make a calendar. Has that been done?”

  In unison, they shook their heads, for some reason looking at Max Dubovitsky as if he was their spokesperson. But the Engineer just dropped his head in shame as if he’d failed some homework.

  “No, I haven’t done that. Nobody else from our village has either…

  “Why not?” The Philosopher looked sincerely surprised. — “Max, you yourself said a few minutes ago that the main purpose of our being here is to study the new world! Even if you didn’t have any watches from the last world, a simple clock is easy to make! You could at least fill up a big barrel with water, make a tiny hole near the bottom and then, when the sun rises, let it drip water into some container with a lid on to lower evaporation. The next sunrise, you pour the rest of the water out of the barrel and pour the water from the container back into it. There you have it — a water clock set to precisely one day in the new world! Later, you can repeat the experiment for accuracy, twice, thrice, ten times, as many as you need to get a precise result. Then you can split the water into two, four or as many parts as you like and make a water clock for half a day, for a quarter, even down to the local hour and minute! Sand clocks and sundials are just as easy to make!”

  We were mostly busy trying to survive in the harsh conditions of this world, not playing scientist…” Washington the Hunter leader said, standing up for the Engineer.

  “Better start!” the Philosopher turned to him, giving free rein to his tongue. “The Cartographer told me yesterday that the winters here are harsh, and only Pan survived out of last year’s group. That’s very important information for survival! And now it’s essential that you figure out how many days are left until the next harsh winter comes. Is it ten? Fifty? Two hundred days? How can you have a strategy for the future if you don’t know that? Maybe you shouldn’t be building a new house, but stocking up on food supplies and firewood, making warm clothes? Or is it better to keep building new homes and storehouses, planting beans and starting other long-term projects? Do you have enough time? If we had a calendar, we’d know that for certain. And everyone from last year’s group might have survived too. And their knowledge, both from their past lives on Earth and their time in the new world, could have really helped us to survive.”

  Nobody in the dining room said a word. Everyone knew he was right. To some degree, the examples the talkative newcomer gave even made many stop to think and reexamine their priorities. In the meantime, the Philosopher continued.

  “What did the respected Engineer say about our goals again? Grow from a tiny island island into a big city? Alright. But we all know perfectly well that the more people you have, the more the world fights back. There’ll more and more Feelers. More and more Alphas. And I don’t know what that flying and screaming thing was out there last night, but it was one of them, that’s for sure. And so far we haven’t even seen the strongest of the night beasts, but as the village gets bigger, more will come, and they’ll be more deadly. All the game rules seem to be aimed at resisting uncontrolled growth. Because big cities cause an imbalance. They’re wounds on the planet. The megapolises of old Earth destroyed its environment, so the conditions in the new world, it seems to me, are set up to limit the growth of settlements.”

  “What’s the alternative to growing?” Glutton waded into the argument. “Split up a big town into a bunch of tiny villages? But will the veichs even let us build new human settlements? In the end, this is their territory. We’re here as guests…”

  Everyone looked at Shelly, but the long-tailed Huntress just shrugged. She didn’t know. But she did tell us what she thought:

  “Humans could follow example of veichs and buil
d homes farrr enough aparrrt to count as separrrate village, with nine rrresidents each. Strrrong walls prrrotect against Feelers. Alphas and strongerrr beasts not appearrr at all.”

  “What’s the minimum distance between homes in that case?” the Philosopher asked at once. The Engineer answered.

  “Two hundred yards. I’ve seen the veich houses in the village of Orshi-Ur. It isn’t an option for us; we already have over twenty people at Pan’s Landing, so two buildings won’t be enough, and we can’t fit three on the island. And Shelly’s packmates haven’t given us permission to build on the riverbank…”

  “I doubt you’ll need the veichs’ permission. They’re getting ready to go beyond the forcefield into the wider world. The Cartographer said so!” Sergeant interjected.

  Shelly confirmed what he’d said. The Huntress said that her kin really were discussing a great migration. The two dozen packs were feeling crowded, and the veichs wanted to avoid conflicts over land.

  It seemed the villagers had no idea of their neighbors’ plan to leave. It woke them right up. Furious discussion began, especially among the Hunters, for whom the veich departure meant new access to land rich with game that the veichs used to guard jealously.

  “If that’s so, the rich iron mines by Orshi-Ur village will be up for grabs too,” Rumbler pointed out to the others.

  That statement caused an even greater furor, more discussion. There were even suggestions that we all just up sticks and move to Orshi-Ur village after the veichs left. That would solve the problem of the night beasts and allow them to take a strategically important area rich with game and iron. Building another house at Pan’s Landing no longer seemed such an urgent task after this news.