by John L. Monk
“These noobs are most distracting,” Kradich continued. “With them out of the way, our surprise will be complete.” He chuckled evilly. “In fact, we will hold you three in reserve for a month. Then, when they show up again, we shall wipe them out quickly! Ah, such glory, as in ancient times…”
Rita said, “But why don’t we do that now? Fight the good fight with what we have, then fight a bigger fight next time?”
Frank shook his head. “Because of the surprise. If we kill Kradich and his friends—sorry, just saying—the place’ll be overrun and everyone wiped out.”
“Including the children,” I said.
Kradich grunted. “Ephemerals. Think nothing of them.”
Rita frowned.
“Then next time,” Frank continued, “they’ll expect them to be just as weak—and bam, we surprise them. But if we show our cards now, they’ll come back with more muscle, and we’ll be in this constant race.”
Kradich’s laugh was dark and full of violence. “If we can survive a few months, this land will spawn a powerful mystic. When that happens, it may be many years before the heroes hope to win again. In the past, they stopped coming altogether, preferring the desert traders’ bazaar to the work needed to defeat us at the height of our power.”
I perked up at this. If such a powerful creature could take my place, then my promise to stay wouldn’t be as important. Rita was deadly with her punches and kicks, and she’d get some great skills at level 25. And Frank would acquire a mass-healing effect to keep the troops alive.
I was about to ask more about the mystic, but a gong sounded, and all conversation died in anticipation of the chief’s appearance.
Lord Usurper entered the throne room with his back ramrod straight and his hands clenched to show off his tiny muscles. He glared at Frank, Rita, the woggims…
And me, especially.
“He doesn’t look happy,” I whispered to Kradich.
“He is never happy,” the big woggim whispered back. “He thinks it makes him more chief-like. Pretend to be worried and you will be fine. And do not make fun of his height again or even I cannot save you.”
“Duly noted.”
“No whispering!” the chief shouted. “What’s this foolishness about wanting to kill my most powerful forces? Sounds like a trick from the heroes to fool us into … into killing my most powerful forces!”
The attendants fled the room screaming in theatrical terror. The rest of us stood with all the impassivity of a rocky shore in a teensy-weensy thunderstorm.
Kradich said, “Mighty Lord Usurper, do you not trust my considerable judgment in all things martial?”
The chief said, “Well, yes, I do, but … But this is crazy! Is he staring at me again?”
Everyone turned and glared at me.
“I’m not looking at anyone,” I said, pretending to study the silken drapery off to my left.
“Aha!” the chief said, wagging a little green finger at me. “So now you’re ignoring me. I’m so small you can’t see me, is that it? I have a good mind to flay you alive and eat you! I do that sometimes. Rhodakis, tell him!”
The woggim named Rhodakis said, “The human is very annoying and impertinent, oh chief. But he is necessary for our safety, much like other slaves in the distant past.”
Slaves? Frank mouthed to Rita, who folded her arms and stared stonily at the woggim.
“Perhaps,” Kradich offered, “if the human were to apologize profusely—abase himself most shamefully, oh chief—that would soothe your mighty personage. We can have him beaten so the tears are real, if that would help.”
The chief smiled brightly.
Raising my hands in surrender, I said, “All right, I apologize. But if you want my opinion, don’t do this stupid plan. The last thing anyone needs is mystics and high-level slaves like us blasting your attackers month after month, forever and ever. You should kill us now and get back to preparing for the coming attack. You’ll definitely win without our help.”
All four woggims in the room sighed in dismay while Rita and Frank hissed angrily at me to shut the hell up. For my part, I stared at the goblin chief indignantly, as if daring him to do what I said.
The chief responded beautifully: he grinned.
“Oh, ho!” he said. “I see it now. I will not be listening to the human’s stupid advice. But I will listen to you, oh worthy and faithful lapdog Kradich, who obeys me in all things.”
Beside me, Kradich’s growl was low and feral, but he held his tongue.
“Furthermore!” the chief said. “I am adding a very important stipulation to all this. The humans shall take turns killing each other first. Only then shall they be allowed to kill my beloved woggim lapdogs.”
Rita and Frank began shouting objections, and Rhodakis roared so loudly my ears rang afterward: “SILENCE WHILE THE CHIEF IS SPEAKING!”
Everyone stared in shocked amazement at the normally quiet woggim—the chief included.
Kradich banished a quick grin from his face, then said, “Once again, Lord Usurper, your wisdom is inspired by the gods of this world. In all things, your will shall be done.”
The four woggims dropped to their knees while the goblin chief grinned, rubbing his little green hands in anticipation.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Lord Usurper and his entourage, and all of us, had relocated to the binding stone. The entire population of goblins was there to see the killings. Their number had grown daily since our arrival and now came to about two hundred.
If there was sun or clouds overhead, I couldn’t tell. The mist in this part of the Swaze Pit was thick, allowing maybe a hundred feet of visibility in every direction.
The goblin chief stood on an ornate wooden platform supported by about fifteen goblins. The platform was overbuilt from heavy timbers, and the goblins strained and grimaced underneath.
“If any of you try any funny business,” the chief said, wagging a finger at us. “If you try to assassinate me and run away, you should know I’ve ordered my woggim pets to track you down and eat you alive. They have no choice, and they won’t mind, either. Woggims prefer their food wiggling.”
I glanced at Kradich in shock. Sheepishly, he shrugged.
Frank cleared his throat. “Uh … your usurpership … uh, sir? Who’s supposed to die first?”
“You, that’s who!” he said and threw back his head in a long, evil cackle. “Why you asking me for? Just start dying or the deal’s off.”
The chief whistled and a group of goblins carried his oversized throne—taken from the ziggurat—onto the platform, oblivious to the plight of the groaning goblins below.
Rita poked me in the ribs and pointed at a nearby shaman. He was muttering incantations under his breath and slyly wiggling his fingers at one struggling creature after another. Afterward, whichever goblin he pointed at would then sigh in relief.
“I don’t know about all this,” Frank said abruptly. “I don’t like dying to begin with, but especially if I know it’s gonna happen. Makes me wanna throw up.”
Rita said, “You’ll be fine. Won’t even see it coming. Although…” She turned and addressed me. “The game might think we’ve dissolved the party if only one of us attacks him. For now, it’s probably best if we take him out with low-level abilities so we both get credit. Should help with the XP share, too. You hit him with something small, and I’ll finish him.”
Frank snorted. “Great, so I get to die slowly. That’s just really great guys, thanks.”
When we’d first met him, Frank struck me as an okay guy for the most part. But as he’d acquired power, got his feet under him and grew comfortable around us, he’d honestly started to irritate me more and more. So it was with only a small twinge of guilt that I said, “Quit your whining” and blasted him with an Ice Bullet.
Rita followed up instantly with a much stronger ability, which killed him messily and thoroughly.
ENEMY DEFEATED: “Frank, the Priest,” 10,000 EXPERIENCE POINTS (SHARED
)
Rita looked impressed. “Wow. Who knew Frank was worth so much?”
Doing my best not to look at Frank’s holed chest and bloody face, I forced a weak laugh. “Yeah.”
The goblins in attendance rushed forward after a shouted command from Kradich. Quickly, they stripped Frank of his belongings and piled them off to the side of the platform. They then carried his body into the mist.
To Kradich I said, “They’re not gonna eat him, are they?”
“Oh, no,” he said in a shocked voice. “It is much worse than that. Best you do not know.”
The woggim was sort of a mystery to me, so I couldn’t be sure if he was kidding or not.
Rita nudged me. “How long’s it take? I’ve never actually waited for someone to come back before.”
“No idea,” I said.
Three minutes later, we had our answer when Frank materialized slowly into view at the center of the runed disk. He had a little bag looped around his neck and he was wearing a starter tunic.
“Hey, guys!” he said. “Barely hurt at all. Where’d they put my stuff? Oh, there it is…”
“Heya, Frank,” I said, and blasted him with an Ice Bullet as he started toward his things.
And so it went. This time when he died, the points received lowered by a thousand, and then another thousand after that. We also got a game message I hadn’t yet seen:
GRIEFING PENALTY:
You may never kill “Frank, the Priest” for points again. You may not attack him again for one level. All tagging and self-defense considerations apply.
“What the heck’s a griefing penalty?” I said.
“It’s what happens when you kill someone over and over again,” Rita said. “You give them grief. Get it? Now we can’t kill him again until he levels, but we won’t get points for it.”
I nodded. “Super. So, who’s next?”
Rita grinned. “Always wanted to murder a sorcerer.”
And so it began with me.
The other times I’d died in the game, I’d suddenly appeared elsewhere seamlessly. This time, I tried to pay more attention to the process. Other than being ready for the death blow, there was no difference at all. Frank made his eyes glow and something seized me from the inside, causing me to cough up blood, then Rita rushed me in a finishing move.
One moment I was alive, and the next I was alive again in the center of the disk. For those three minutes, I didn’t exist. No afterlife, no light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing. That’s how utterly the universe of Ethan Crane had turned off and on again.
So disturbing was this realization, that part of me wanted to sit down and weep as the vague hope that maybe I had a soul grew just a little bit dimmer…
Something to think about later. For now, I had more dying to do.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Two more deaths, and then it was Rita’s turn. This was hard because I really liked her, and I didn’t want her to suffer. Closing my eyes at the last second, I handled the coup de gras myself using my newest spell: Greater Lightning Bolt. I’d inadvertently opened the spell series after buying the normal version from Magical Matters. Later on, I could look forward to more powerful ones: Major, Mighty, Titanic, Godlike 1, Godlike 2 … But that was a long time away.
Killing Rita and Frank had gotten me to level 23. A sick process made sicker by the goblin chief’s open delight at the slaughter.
“Well?” he said. “Keep killing each other! I like it!”
Kradich said, “It does not work that way for the humans, oh Chief. They can only benefit from three kills. And so it is time we woggims lend our heads to the cause—in shame, that we may die but once.”
“I shall go first!” Rhodakis said.
“I shall go second!” another woggim said.
“Then me!” another said.
“And I will go last,” Kradich said sadly. “After I am gone, oh great Usurper, will you offer your life to the humans? A goblin chief would increase their power more than all of us woggims combined.”
“Hah!” the chief said. “You think I’m a fool? Once you’re gone, I’m getting drunk and staying that way until the heroes come! And what a sight they’ll find when they get here—every loyal goblin hanging by their necks from the walls, quite dead. Including yours truly, only I won’t be dead.” He held up a leather harness with a fake noose tied to it. “Who needs you traitorous woggims, hmm? Supposed to be so smart. I’ve found my own way to survive the heroes’ onslaught. Been playing dead for years, right under your noses.”
At the word traitorous, Kradich stiffened beside me but said nothing.
Woggims, it turned out, were much harder to kill than Franks, Ethans, and even Ritas. It took Frank’s best prayers, Rita’s most powerful attacks, and my most recently acquired spells to bring Rhodakis down. A long and hateful process. The woggim groaned in agony during the cooldowns while one of the female shamans did her best to dampen his pain.
Rita openly cried throughout the ordeal, while Kradich and the other woggims seemed barely in control of their fury. For all their intelligence and good manners, they were still only lucids. If they gave in to their imperatives, we wouldn’t last two seconds.
But they did keep control. And when Rhodakis and the other subordinate woggims died, Frank jumped three levels. Rita and I both gained 75,000 experience points, taking us both to level 24.
Now it was Kradich’s turn.
“I wish it didn’t have to happen like this,” I said, shaking his huge furry hand.
“I shall never be your friend,” Kradich said gravely. “My kind are not capable of it. But I do not hate you, and hate is something we are very capable of. Take comfort in this.”
Rita hugged Kradich around his big furry middle. He patted her back and rumbled low, soothing words. Even Frank gave him a hug.
Despite Kradich’s assurance that we weren’t friends, to me it felt exactly like I was killing a friend. Worse, because he hadn’t chosen to be here. He existed because humans needed monsters to justify our thirst for violence.
It took about ten minutes to cycle our abilities through their various cooldowns. When he fell, I jumped two full levels.
ENEMY DEFEATED: Kradich, the Woggim Leader, 100,000 EXPERIENCE POINTS (SHARED)
YOU HAVE ADVANCED TO LEVEL 25!
+5 Stat Points
+1 Class Point
+1 Skill Point
YOU HAVE ADVANCED TO LEVEL 26!
+5 Stat Points
+1 Class Point
+1 Skill Point
Even Frank looked choked-up as Kradich dropped scorched and broken to the ground. The goblins around the circle howled in anguish and glared at us. The goblin chief looked even more outraged than usual, and I wondered if he’d order them to kill us repeatedly until the heroes arrived sometime next week. We were at the binding stone, after all. When Kradich hatched this plan, he hadn’t taken into account Lord Usurper’s inclination toward pettiness.
Quickly, I chose a newly available spell—Rain of Fire—and applied my bonus points to vitality.
Compared to my other spells, this one was truly terrifying, and could only be cast once per day … or once per repop. Which meant I could cast it now, take out as many as possible, then do it again in three minutes when I resurrected. After a few cycles of that, we could make our escape.
A quick glance at Rita and Frank showed similarly worried—yet determined—looks. I wondered what skills they’d chosen, and if theirs were anything like Rain of Fire.
The goblin chief leaped to his feet. He opened his mouth to say something, then paused as a strange hissing sound issued from somewhere deep in the mist. To me, it sounded like thousands of snakes had been suddenly riled up.
The other goblins weren’t staring into the mist, though. No, their attention had turned upward.
Seconds later, thousands of arrows rained from the sky in a thunderous crack, felling every goblin in the area, including the chief. The only people remaining afterward were F
rank, Rita, and myself.
And one other.
Chapter Fifty
From out of the mist walked a man dressed in traveling leathers similar to artists’ renderings of Daniel Boone, minus the raccoon cap.
Though not freakishly handsome like every high-level I’d seen, this man was no noob. He strode through the goblin corpses with an air of spring-loaded danger that said, I own this place. You are here at my sufferance.
I didn’t need to see the familiar gray arrows buried in the chests of the nearest goblins to know who he was.
“So you’re Jaddow,” I said.
“You know this guy?” Frank said, then flinched when Rita swatted him.
The man regarded the four dead woggims on the binding stone and shook his head.
“The creatures of this world…,” he said quietly. “Even after so long, they still surprise me. These goblins have been slaughtered tens of thousands of times since the game first began. They’ve recruited hundreds of champions over the years—to protect them, ostensibly. But also to offer a path for players who wish to break the hack-and-slash mold the majority so easily falls into. That missive they sent you—don’t meet his gaze, speak when spoken to … They gave that same rag to me when I was captured. I remember Kradich fondly as the voice of reason in the little chief’s mad reign.” He gazed at Kradich’s corpse in sadness. “To see him offer his head to the likes of you worthless little cheaters … Ah, what a sorry state this world has come to.”
“Now wait just a damned minute,” Rita said hotly. “I don’t know who you think you are, coming in here all big and bad. But nobody’s cheating anything. It’s not even possible! If the designers made it this way, then that’s the rules. You play your game, we’ll play ours.”
Throughout her short speech, Jaddow had listened politely. In the silence that followed, he lifted a finger to his mouth and said, “Shush.”
Rita vanished.
Frank issued a wordless growl of rage. A beam of black energy shot from his fingers but it faded halfway to the man.