Avatar of Light

by Dmitry Bilik

  Still, it gave me an idea. I could still do some spell leveling, couldn’t I? And the more effective the spells, the faster I could level them. Had some unsuspecting commoner happened to be around now, I could have used them to practice Smoke and Mirrors. I could also use antalopes in order to level up Freeze. Shame they were all gone now.

  But as for Light and Electric Arc, I didn’t need anyone in order to level them, did I? What’s more, I had everything I needed for leveling Light, namely darkness which, as the saying goes, is young people’s friend. Neither Illusions nor Rhetoric were of any use to me. But Destruction was another thing. All I had to do was find a suitable target. It wasn’t for nothing that Rumis had mannequins in his shop. I needed to find something of the kind too.

  After about three minutes, I came across what looked like a suitable target: a big branchy bush. I got to within ten paces of it, reached out my hand and cast Electric Arc.

  Your Destruction skill has increased to level 4.

  In an ideal world, they should have also awarded me level 1 in Pyromania. The bush went up in flames, dispelling the dark of the night. Instinctively, without even realizing what I was doing, I ripped off my trench coat and started putting out the fire. The last thing I wanted was to start a wildfire.

  Finally, I put the now-dirty trench coat stained with soot back on and shook my head. This wasn’t the right way to do it. I needed to make sure that my shooting practice was done in a more environmentally-friendly way.

  Which was why my next target was a withered tree stump in a small grove of trees nearby. I’d had to make a small detour to get to it, because there was nothing suitable other than grass and rocks on my way. My mana had already restored to 82 pt., making it enough for two casts.

  Let’s do it!

  Your Destruction skill has increased to level 5.

  The stump split in two as if hit with a hatchet. An uneven crack formed right across it.

  Let’s try that again!

  My next attempt, however, was a bitter disappointment because absolutely nothing happened. Sure the stump splintered, but the system wasn’t in a hurry to reward me with a new level. That’s how I came to realize the most important aspect of it: in order to level up a skill, the complexity of the task had to increase.

  I remembered that during my last training sessions with Hunter, my Short Blades skill had only improved one level at a time, two at the most. And that’s after two hours of really going at it. At the same time, my five-minute battle with the rachnaids had garnered me quite a few brownie points. Which meant that this Game system was just like the human body: if you kept putting it under the same load, it would quickly get used to it. Your muscles know perfectly well what amount of exertion they need for a particular task, so in order to achieve the result you want, you need to constantly change your level of training.

  The main thing was, I understood this principle now. From this moment on, the remaining journey had ceased to become a drudgery, turning into an exciting quest. First I had to wait until my mana had restored enough to cast a spell. After that, I started looking for suitable targets to practice my destructive magic abilities: old branches, cracked rocks that could be split in two, even some of the bigger tree roots. I came across a couple of bushes but I prudently left them alone.

  From time to time, I came across various animals. Some of them ran off straight away just like the antalopes had, while others kept a watchful eye on my progress, like some giant yellow-feathered birds. Still, I chose the route of non-aggression, so now I’m awaiting a letter from Greenpeace inviting me to become an honorary member of their organization.

  As a result, I managed to level up Destruction very nicely. Hardly surprising: you don’t need much brain matter to destroy something. So I wasn’t too surprised when I received another system message after splitting a lump of rock:

  Your Destruction skill has increased to level 10.

  You’ve achieved Mastery in the following skill: Destruction

  Mastery level: 1

  You can now select advanced spell settings

  I scanned through the list, found Electricity and selected it.

  +10% to damage dealt by all Electricity spells

  Much better. Now my Electric Arc had 44 pts. damage instead of 40. Nothing to write home about, but still it considerably raised my chances of success.

  I looked at the glittering bits of crumbled crystal at my feet. So that’s what Tartr had been talking about. I started scratching around and soon found another crystal about twenty paces away. Very well, Hänsel, let’s go look for Gretel.

  Tartr had been right. Jumping Jack hadn’t even bothered to camouflage his cave properly: a few cliffs were all that concealed it from prying eyes. All you had to do was go around the cliffs to see the entrance into a dungeon.

  Still, I wasn’t in a hurry to invite myself in. The cave’s walls were plastered in runes whose meanings I couldn’t even begin to fathom out. What was it again Tartr had said about Jack being not only an alchemist but also a wizard? What was it now?

  “Jumping Jack? Er… excuse me, sir? Mr. Jumping Jack?”

  A weak echo was my only answer. Apparently, this Mr. Jack was a rather inhospitable guy. Or maybe he just wasn’t at home. Which would make things a lot easier, of course: anyone could walk in and take whatever they wanted. Provided you still had hands to take it with.

  I unhurriedly approached the entrance and studied the runes. They seemed okay. Gingerly I began to climb inside, pressing my back against the wall without taking my eyes off the rune-painted stones.

  Big mistake. I slipped on a smooth round stone. My foot slid down a small crack between the rocks. I heard a click.

  I wailed in agony like a dog who’d thought he was being taken to sire a bitch and instead ended up on the vet’s table. Not the most pleasant of sensations. They must have planted some kind of trap there.

  Oh no, sir, two can play at that game.

  [ ∞ ]

  It looked like sneaking in wasn’t an option. Very well. Let’s try another approach and walk straight in.

  I headed confidently into the cave, openly and without fear. Still, I regretted it before I’d even gone fifteen feet.

  One of the runes lit up. Something pinned me to the ground; I felt like an astronaut back on Earth, the only difference being that the pressure kept on growing. My veins bulged; I struggled to breath. My joints started crunching, followed by my very bones. I decided not to hang around to see how it all might end.

  [ ∞ ]

  It looked like the mountain wasn’t in the mood to go to Mohammed. Nor did it show much appreciation when said prophet tried to approach it himself. What could I do? Only besiege it and starve ‘em out.

  To tell you the truth, I was getting hungry myself. I’d had dinner ages ago. Still, going back wasn’t on the cards. I only had two days or even less to liberate my friends. And Jumping Jack seemed to be the only person who could help me with that.

  I sat myself down on the ground not far from the cave and watched the entrance. Eventually I leaned my back against the cliff shielding the cave from unwanted stares and dozed off.

  When I woke up, the sky was already lighter. I climbed back to my feet and stepped aside to take a leak. I was desperate for a wash. They say that deadmen don’t sweat but I’d already been alive for two days. The fact that I’d also lost my socks and boxers which had dematerialized during my last teleport to Purgator — sorry for this intimate detail — didn’t make me feel any better. My feet were all sweaty and covered in blisters which hindered my every step. The lack of my undies added a certain degree of discomfort too.

  I walked back to my place, contemplating my first purchase once I got back home: several sets of socks and underwear. Actually, I’d already noticed that short socks weren’t the best thing to wear with high boots. I might have to discuss it with Hunter once he calmed down a bit and could speak to me without resorting to a four-letter vocabulary.

  “What
do you want, Seeker?” a loud voice shouted from the cave.

  I got back to my feet, stretching my numb back, and peered into the dark. Jumping Jack showed no intention of leaving the cave. I, however, made a perfect target out in the open. If he wanted to kill me, all he had to do was cast a spell. Even my time rewind wouldn’t save me from a crossbow bolt: I simply wouldn’t be able to dodge it in time.

  So the fact that the cave dweller hadn’t attacked me yet was actually good news. This time, I did everything by the book: instead of barging straight in, I “knocked” and sat by the door waiting for it to be answered.

  But first, I’d rewound time again.

  “I’m looking for Jumping Jack.”

  “You’ve found him. And?”

  “I need to speak to you and-”

  “Speak up,” he interrupted me again.

  So much for constructive dialog. Still, I’d already understood the main point: this wasn’t the right situation to beat about the bush or have a rhetoric match. So I’d chosen an entirely different tactic.

  “I’ve been sent to you to get the Elixir of Power.”

  “You wanted to say, ‘steal the Elixir of Power’. In which case you can get lost.”

  “Won’t you ask me who sent me here?”

  “As if I don’t know. It’s that Pull, the dimwit. No idea why you’re telling me all this but I’d really get out of here while you’re still alive.”

  “I want to kill Pull,” I blurted out. “Provided you help me.”

  I heard the soft tapping of wood against rock.

  Jumping Jack, that mysterious orange-skinned alchemist, emerged from the cave: a short, one-legged Purg, too puny to my human eye. His pants’ left leg ended at the knee, revealing a wooden leg. He was gripping a walking stick, rough and thick. His every movement was jerky and sharp, creating the impression he was jumping, not walking. The box above his head informed me that I was looking at a Master Alchemist.

  “Oh,” I said mechanically.

  “What did you say about killing Pull?” the alchemist asked, ignoring my blunder.

  “Pull told me to bring him the elixir. He said, he’d set my friends free then. But I somehow doubt he’s gonna keep his promise.”

  “You can bet your life he won’t,” Jumping Jack said confidently.

  I studied him with curiosity: his lean sinewy body, his jerky movements, his nervous, intelligent face. You could hardly tell his real age — and Jack must have been real old, judging by the fact that he’d been the teacher of Tartr’s own mentor.

  “So what’s that about killing Pull? Tell me.”

  I told him my plan. It wasn’t exactly brilliant but it was all I had.

  Jumping Jack proved to be an excellent listener. He hung on to my every word without stopping or interrupting me. Once I’d finished, he grilled me some more, wanting to know who I was, where I was from and how I’d laid my hands on such an amazing skill. I gave him a rather detailed account of everything I knew. He wasn’t an Abbas, after all, so I shouldn’t be worried that he might catch me lying. He didn’t need to know the whole story. I was seeing him for the first time in my life. Our mutual enemy was the only thing we had in common.

  Which was why I told him a few things about my initiation (admittedly being rather economical with the truth), how I’d thrown a team together to go on a raid against the rachnaid Queen, and about the wound which had forced me to spend a few days in bed. I left Two-Face out completely. Jumping Jack knew enough already in order to decide whether we were on the same page or not.

  “Swear you won’t try to attack me in my cave,” he said sternly.

  I raised my hand for a more dramatic effect. “I swear to Jumping Jack, the alchemist from Purgator, that I won’t harm him in any way while I’m inside his cave.”

  A blinding flash confirmed that the Game had accepted my oath. Jack nodded. He turned away from me and waved his hand, causing the runes to light up one by one, then expire all at once.

  “Come on in,” the alchemist said, hopping in front of me.

  I still couldn’t work out how the cave had originally formed. Most likely, it was entirely the work of Mother Nature. But the tunnel which led toward the cave’s main quarters was far too long and winding, so it must have been built that way on purpose.

  As we walked, Jack stopped several times to warn me about an upcoming trap. The place was absolutely riddled with them, both physical and magic ones. I began to understand why no one had ever heard from his hapless intruders again.

  Finally, the tunnel widened, opening into a… forest. It came as a complete surprise, literally freezing me by the exit as I tried to take the whole picture in.

  Here, the precipitous cliff walls parted, giving way to trees and vines. Its one side was taken up by an alchemist table crowded with chemicals and test tubes; a thick rainforest made up the other.

  The thing that puzzled me the most was the light that permeated the foliage, rising up to the sky. It was comprised of a myriad of bright dots which moved incessantly all around. It took me some time to make out the tiny winged human outlines within those spots of light, like the one I’d seen in Tartr’s lamp.

  “These are Fluorites. Wonderful people. Very intelligent. Not as clever as the Purgs but smarter than most beastmen.”

  I winced. Let’s see what you say when you clap eyes on Litius, mister. That particular beastman was the Smithsonian on legs.

  I didn’t say it out loud though. It wasn’t my problem, anyway. Some people could be animal defenders and most outrageous racists at the same time. What could you expect from a Purg, LOL.

  “Where did you get them from?”

  “I found part of their tribe in a burnt grove. That’s what our peasants do in order to smoke out manels. I sheltered them in my cave. Later, more turned up. I planted these trees for them. I didn’t think they would grow here but Fluorites have this positive effect on plants. Now look!”

  With a sweep of his hand, Jack pointed at the cave and smiled for the first time. Aha. It looked like we’d found his weak spot.

  On impulse, I thrust my hand out and cast Light.

  Your Illusions skill has increased to level 8.

  Immediately dozens of little creatures clung to my fingers, tickling them with their wings and little hands. Their gentle twittering was reminiscent of the babbling of a brook. Still, the moment the spell was over, they scattered in all directions, squeaking softly.

  You’ve taken the first step toward acquiring the Intuition ability.

  “That’s exactly how you catch them,” Jack said, his face turning grim. “They just can’t resist the magic light. Very well. We shouldn’t waste time. Let’s go.”

  The alchemist hopped over to one of the filing cabinets next to the table, pulled open the doors and fumbled around inside, producing a small black pouch. He opened it and gingerly produced a fat vial of thick acid-orange liquid.

  “This is the Elixir of Power,” he said.

  “It looks more like artificially colored fruit jelly,” I admitted. “Does it really endow you with so much power?”

  “Of course it doesn’t,” Jack smirked. “It’s only a name.”

  “So what does it do, then?”

  “It maxes out Strength. Irreversibly.”

  “How many points?”

  “How should I know? You need to try it. It’s a different result every time. It’s a rare item, very expensive. It takes a long time to brew it.”

  “Why would Pull want it?”

  “As far as I know, he’s already used all the skills available to him to bring his Strength up. You can’t get any higher. The only way to max it out…”

  “…is this elixir,” I finished for him.

  “Exactly. Which is why you’re not getting it. Things might take a wrong turn and I don’t want Pull to lay his hands on it.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said, pleased as Punch at my own cunning. “All you need to do is make something that resembles it. Someth
ing with the same kind of smell, color and consistency. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Chapter 5

  BIRDS OF A FEATHER flock together. If you’re a happy, cheerful person with a positive outlook, you’ll be surrounded by the same throughout your life. If you’re a pessimistic sonovabitch constantly expecting the Universe to screw you, that’s exactly what you’re going to get. And if you’re a parasitic slimeball sponging off other people, that’s exactly the kind of company you’re gonna keep. Because it makes things easier that way.

  Still, for every action there is a reaction. That was also something I'd realized a long time ago. You shouldn’t be confusing it with poetic justice, simply because not everyone gets credit when it’s due. But if you’re climbing over other people’s heads in order to reach your goal, be prepared that sooner or later somebody else’s foot will trample your own ginger mop into the ground.