Keymaster

by Sergey Zaytsev

  Tinnie. She had three free points now. With a light heart, I invested one into Mystic Lore. The result exceeded expectations, as Tinnie received another crafting ability.

  Specialization (2/3) is available: Artificer (souls)

  Grants the pet the ability to create consumables to resurrect the fallen.

  Realizing what this meant, I threw away the skins and sat down, staring blankly ahead of me, oblivious of the cold. Rage kept me warm.

  I remembered Chula’s drawing of a Fairy, scribbled with coal on the wall in the hunting camp. I remembered the Lowlings’ sweet and enthusiastic smiles and Mashta’s incessant care, or rather, close monitoring. Everything was crooked.

  In the sandbox, where I had miraculously tamed the Fairy, the system reported that this taming was unique — unique in the sandbox at least. The Lowlings were aware of Tinnie’s abilities since my appearance in Lunar Rainbow. That was what saved me, not their seeming kindheartedness. That was why they took me under their wing, so that they could dispose of me when the right moment came, and safely grab my pets. But they couldn’t do it on their own; the pets would’ve gone berserk otherwise. That’s why they had been using me as bait, until they eventually lured me to the lair.

  Their plan was simple and disgusting — use someone else to kill the pet owner; stay on the pet’s good side and use their services while the owner was absent. Now I had no doubt that there were ways to re-tame pets, and that they knew how to do it. To them I was expendable. Such soullessness enraged me. Much as I hated to admit it, I could understand them. I never realized what a miraculous pet I had gotten. I mean, she could craft consumables for resurrecting! Did that mean that Tinnie would be able to raise a fighter without a healer, allowing the lucky one to avoid the Cradle?! That would be epic!!!

  My hand twitched unpleasantly. Squinting angrily, I discovered that the Sign had shifted from my elbow and covered the bicep with a glowing web. It seemed to be feeding on my rage and my muscles were spasmodically contracting. It was a disgusting sensation, as if a ball of worms had settled itself under my skin. Where are you going, you fucker? Toward my face, huh? Just what I need; a face tattoo! Must everything be so annoying?! And what about this damned Lash of Pain, huh? I shouldn’t ignore it...

  But then Fury sensed something. She slid toward the entrance like a shadow, but didn’t reach it. Halting, she chose a position convenient for an attack. I froze too, worried, watching the Direcat, squeezing the esc in my right hand and grimacing.

  The door swung open, letting in a wave of icy air; a tall, bearded man, resembling a heavyweight wrestler in stature, crossed the threshold. The rage disappeared as if turned off with a push of a button. My heart swelled with joy and excitement — a human! Finally! Carelessly holding an impressive burden on his broad shoulders, a carcass of a Sniffer that was a large carnivorous beast the size of a pony and that resembled a miniature rhino, the bearded man tightly shut the door behind him. Dumping his catch near the Furnace, he threw a look at me.

  You have got to be shitting me, I thought, staring back at both the bearded man and his nickname. It turned out that Grant didn’t exaggerate. Around seven feet tall, weighing probably more than two hundred and fifty pounds in solid muscle, he really looked like the legendary Hercules. Or like a walking tank, which he, in fact, was by specialization. Before me stood Stinger. Very much alive.

  “Don’t sleep or you will freeze to death,” he grumbled loudly. He then took off his jacket, which turned out to be mine, and threw it over the Furnace, barely missing my face. “Get dressed. I see you’ve come back to your senses. It’s about time. Well, tell me how you got Rawrk killed. After that, I will decide whether to rip off your head right away or give you a chance to fix what you’ve done. Also, what’s that tattoo on your hand? And why the hell is it glowing?”

  Chapter 37

  About an hour later, Stinger went hunting again. It turned out that Fury was capable of devouring a Snuffer all by herself, leaving nothing to us. I ignored his sensible advice to rest on the couch until his return, as I didn’t want to waste any more time. After all, I could think through everything that we discussed during this very informative hour while doing something productive; leveling a prof, for example. There was no place for lazy asses in this location; being active increased one’s survival chances.

  Therefore, as soon as the door closed after the big guy, I went to work. Even though I had to grit my teeth and rest every couple of steps, I got to the rack.

  Flayer’s Companion

  Common item

  One-handed

  Weapon type: physical

  Material: low-grade Iron

  Durability 22/30

  Damage: 64-80

  Minimum level requirement: 15

  I then started cutting, spreading on the table the skin that Stinger had removed from the carcass, which was still slippery on the inside. My fingers were trembling and I had difficulties holding the dagger’s handle. The resulting cut turned out to be not the smoothest one in the world, but thanks to my stubbornness and perseverance, I was making progress. Slow, but steady. It also helped me get my mind off food. Unfortunately, even the skin’s peculiar stench didn’t curb my appetite.

  Stinger advised me to starve a bit, although I started to drool while he flayed the Snuffer. He stated that my injury could only get worse if I ate. There was reason in his words, and further information about the debuff confirmed that.

  Serious Injury

  Your physical capabilities are limited. Part of your energy will be redirected to internal damage restoration.

  Approximate period until complete recovery: 8 hours

  No wonder that my stamina and HP were stuck at 67% then; not to mention that my energy had had been halved. I felt like I was one foot in the grave. It wasn’t necessary to wait for the full eight hours to pass, but rather a couple. Just to be on the safe side. However, hunger tormented me so fiercely that it made it difficult to think coherently. Meanwhile, my endurance had grown by another couple of points.

  Stinger and I managed to discuss a lot, although not everything that I wanted. Despite the fact that I had sworn to trust no one else in this lousy world, for some reason the veracity of this man’s story didn’t cause the slightest doubt. There was something in him... Something solid. His presence somehow made you feel calmer and even believe that everything would be all right now that he was here. I was sure that this wasn’t just because of his high Charisma, but because of who he generally was as a person. Stinger seemed like the reliable sort.

  However, as soon as the door slammed behind him, all of my doubts returned with renewed strength. In his absence, I reconsidered everything. The long-suffering organism went on diligently “repairing itself,” burning the gratuitous energy that Tinnie continuously pumped into me from Fury, who was dozing off nearby. Tinnie, too, got busy, enthusiastically rummaging through Stinger’s bag that was near the rack. When I tried to get her attention and find out why she was doing this, she squeaked in disgust and sank back into the bag, next to which were noticeable piles of gemstones, selected according to criteria known only to her. Having no doubt that her survey was somehow connected to her recently acquired abilities, I didn’t interfere.

  I myself had something to do; to make a new chestplate, for example. Starting to design armor, I let my mind wonder.

  The principles of portal functioning turned out to be much more mysterious than I had previously imagined. The day I arrived, I was greatly disappointed to find out that there was no one from my sandbox in Lunar Rainbow; moreover, no humans had existed here for a long time. I hoped that each sandbox’s Inferno was tied to a specific world and that I would see at least one familiar face.

  I wasn’t that far away from the truth.

  Yes, there were certain periods during which players were thrown out at a specific “address.” But not knowing when exactly that period was, it was impossible to take that parameter into account. When Mashta mentioned that the last per
son before me had appeared ten days ago and that they didn’t even reach the camp, I thought that she was talking about Sybarite, and that the time shift had turned three sandbox days into ten days in Lunar Rainbow. Most likely, the Lowlings were the ones who had finished off Sybarite and remained silent for obvious reasons. Poor guy; he was only level five. Hoping to achieve something, he stopped leveling and was punished for that by being sent to the Inferno on Esco’s orders. As they say: fate helps those who help themselves.

  Stinger had been here for more than a month.

  After telling me his story about how he came to be here, in the Vale of the Seventh Seal, the name of which, by the way, was a dead giveaway of its purpose, but was also something that I had no time to deal with it at the moment, the story of human extermination got a fresh coat of paint. Just a month ago, the balance of power at Fortress had been completely different. The Dalrokts played a less significant role, because the harsh and uncompromising ruler of the Fortress was a human clan, Night Shadows. This clan didn’t accept nonhuman players. On the day when everything happened, half of the clan, those who were older and stronger, went to raid the Citadel. The rest, interrupting their leveling and leaving the lairs alone, arranged to have a day off in order to watch over the Mausoleum and wait for those who perished in battle, as well as oversee the resurrections and their cycles and manage the socs. Only a handful of Okhtans and Dalrokts went to level, and the five Lowlings, as was the established routine, were on duty at the camp.

  Feeling safe in the Fortress, humans relaxed, and no one could’ve ever guessed that a group of Raksh elites would invade on that very day. A full-fledged battle unit of twenty fighters, all of which were around level 30, came in like a hurricane, pouring into the hall from the underground tunnels...

  It just so happened that that was the day when Stinger arrived to this location. He was shit out of luck, as they say. Even with his powerful physique, so powerful that stats were an insignificant addition to his real strength, he turned out to be just a training dummy for the Raksh. That wasn’t a surprise since he was only level 7 at the time and understood very little of what was going on. The swift attack swept across the Fortress, filling it with the ringing of steel and deathly screams. The Raksh didn’t eliminate everyone, only those who could award the killers with a rank 2 and higher grade socs. The rest were tied up and dragged away. Stinger was among the captives with two newcomer level 8 Okhtans.

  Cursing, I barely managed to stop my hand; the dagger’s tip nearly cut the skin in the wrong place. I was done with it in a minute. Finishing off the details, I moved to the Furnace. Having spread the skins from the bed on the floor so as not to have my butt frozen off, I sat down near the fire and set about burning the patterns.

  The manufacturing process was already familiar to me and so I made steady progress. Since I wasn’t in a rush, I took great care of what I was doing. I designed the piece so that the entire plate would cover only the chest. I made three narrow segments, each a palm wide, that horizontally overlapped each other and placed them below the plate, tying it all with belts from the inside. The fourth, the most flexible piece, was supposed to cover the groin. Such design was less movement restraining when compared to the first version, and which would, in theory, allow me to ride Fury more comfortably. I managed to cover the back with only a couple of components.

  The even heat of the Furnace turned out to be more suitable for firing than the lighter that I had used in the lair. Stinger managed to restore the circle from his reserves before leaving. In addition, the flame helped me stay warm. Fury, too, moved closer and leaned her side on my back. Stinger didn’t take with him the used up esc, only looked at with some suspicion. He probably thought that I was going to use it as a weapon, having nothing better on me; the sharp end of the esc could naturally cut quite well. My guess was that he had thought me crazy after seeing my wounds.

  My surroundings felt more or less warm and I was dressed, but I still felt cold. All of my energy was being spent on recovering. Damn Stinger took my brand-new fur cloak with him. I couldn’t really blame him; he was forced to wear rags as well. The Raksh sported their own fur, so they had no need for such gear...

  Smelling burnt leather, I removed the piece that had begun to smoke away from the heat of the Furnace and cursed under my breath. I got lost in thoughts and almost burned the material. After examining the rest of the details, I concluded that everything was ready and that it was time to assemble it. Half an hour later, the new chestplate was ready, and I was satisfied; it looked much better than the one made in the lair. It almost looked professionally made. Grimacing from dull pain in my stomach, I got up and put it on.

  As soon as the last strap was tied, the system awarded me for my efforts.

  Advanced Amateur Vest

  Uncommon item

  Durability: 46/50

  Defense: 138/150

  Cold Resistance: +10%

  Strength: +5

  Endurance: +5

  Reward for crafting: +2,000 XP

  Created by: [Wisecracker]

  Remember the crafting recipe: yes / no?

  Inventor

  Rank 1 (53/100)

  Well done me! Of course I want to remember it! That 1% chance to get an item with enhanced properties did the trick. And it became warmer. Double the pleasure. The chestplate covered the holes in my jacket, stopping the circulation of cold air, and was by itself a good heat insulator. So, what does a recipe reward one with? I knew that I could repeat it should the need arise. So, according to game rules, everything remembered as a “recipe” had a 50% chance to successfully replicate stats when crafting the same item. Great news! It was a pity that the leftover leather scraps weren’t good for anything. Unfortunately, it turned out that I wasn’t the only one in need of warmth. Apparently, Tinnie was patiently waiting for me to finish my work. As soon as that happened, she hung over the magical flame, squeaked something demandingly, and poked her finger first at the Furnace, and then at her chest.

  After receiving my blessing, Tinnie nodded and began to fly between the Furnace and the heaps of sorted gems. I had no choice but to watch her with growing curiosity. Something interesting was happening.

  “Are you sure that you can’t do without the gems? Stinger may not like it.”

  The fairy waved her hand dismissively, as if to say: “No worries, we’ll handle it.”

  “Do you need help?”

  This time, Tinnie didn’t answer. She carefully lowered another gem, a green Emerald, near one of the escs, and went for the next. It soon became apparent that she was laying out some intricate pattern. I didn’t dare to bother her with new questions. I would see the result myself if she’s successful. There was no need to distract her.

  I sat on the skins again and took a sip from the flask. Stinger left me a bit of his potion to help speed up the healing. I decided not to deal with my stats yet since I clearly needed to recover first. I thought a little about Alan the Dark. The fact that the mysterious, whatever the hell he was, had come to my rescue, and saved my skin obviously meant something. However, he either didn’t trust me yet, since I received only my primary ability, Lash of Pain, or his access to Lunar Rainbow was limited, or I simply wasn’t the required level. Increasing my reputation with him clearly wouldn’t hurt. Well, at least the sign had ceased to burn and make my muscles twitch. It seemingly reacted to increased adrenaline rush and strong emotions. Was that what Alan liked? Hmm, a lot of questions and all without an answer.

  Chzher could perhaps enlighten me on this. The confidence with which he spoke of the deity told a lot about his close acquaintance with these powerful entities. But he was in the Fortress and it would be difficult to get to him without facing the Lowlings. They definitely didn’t know about my contract with him, otherwise they wouldn’t have acted so brazenly and things would’ve been different.

  Still, I would have to go there eventually. I couldn’t spend the rest of my time here in this valley. Back through the s
ecret passage... The Lowlings, of course, weren’t ubiquitous and nobody would dare back out of their shift, but they were alerted now. Still, going after me wasn’t worth it, as they would have to leave someone to guard the camp. I didn’t know Stinger well enough yet to trust him completely, so I had to proceed on my own. I couldn’t afford a fight with any of the small folk, so I had to act very carefully. The most reasonable thing to do would be to go around the mountains and find a way into the Fortress from the side where I had traveled to the Cradle. I remembered that one of the Dalrokts was always on duty on the Fortress wall. He was the one that I needed. But with my level, this task looked rather difficult, and I was in no hurry to resurrect.

  Although…

  Heck.

  I bit my lip in annoyance.

  Maybe suicide was a sensible option? The Dalrokts would oversee my resurrection, and I would get my stuff back at the same time...

  No, that’s not how I deal with things. I’ll try to squeeze the maximum out of a situation before deciding on such a desperate step. Let’s drop that subject for now.

  Chapter 38

  By the way, the stones that Tinnie had so shamelessly used were directly related to Stinger’s story. Three weeks of captivity turned out to be a serious test for his soul and body. He didn’t immediately understand why he was left alive. The Raksh, however, decided to kill two birds with one stone by leveling a low-level prisoner till he’s capable of dropping at least a rank 2 soc upon death, and at the same time diminish the number of small creatures called Biters. According to Stinger’s description, these creatures looked like miniature carnivorous jerboas. They terrorized the mine in which the Kobi worked, extracting metal for the Raksh who, considering themselves to be born warriors, left the Kobi and the captives to deal with this problem. This, however, worked in Stinger’s favor. He was fed poorly, but he gradually gained levels and increased his reputation with the Kobi, who often shared some food with him.