by Nikita Thorn
Seiki was about to say something when he got distracted by the fact that the world suddenly got brighter.
Energized by the fire, you are now only slightly Fatigued! 143 minutes to Severe Fatigue.
“That’s why most people are out the West Gate doing PVE,” said the ronin. He paused for a moment, before shaking his head. “I don’t understand how Fuyu expects you to survive out here.”
“Me neither,” said Seiki.
“You know they’re just using you.”
“Probably,” Seiki agreed. Now that he thought about it, ever since the beginning, various people had used him to forward their own agenda, and Seiki was not even any closer to figuring out what that was.
“Ichikeya’s a fence, kid,” said Renshiro. “They buy stolen things and sell them for a profit. You can either help me unlock the box, or you can help dishonest people make money. I don’t know what the key is for, but I know who it belongs to, and I’m just trying to return it to its rightful owner.”
Seiki studied the man. “How do I even know that’s true?”
Renshiro smiled. “I guess you’ve gotta take my word for it.”
Seiki was somehow inclined to believe him, and he was extremely glad to be spared this particular moral dilemma.
“Your key is really not in there, okay?” Seiki said. “Fuyu said she had already sold it.”
“To?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t know.” Seiki raised a palm up. “All I know is this is the last time I’m going to do something for Ichikeya, but I gave my word at the time. I even took the payment, so I have to finish it.” He paused. “So, force me if you must, but I can’t unlock it for you willingly.”
Renshiro looked at Seiki for a moment, before chuckling. He held up the blood-lock box in his left hand. “How would you try to take this box from me right now?”
It took Seiki a second to realize that it was not a rhetorical question and that the man was entirely serious.
Seiki put down the fishing stick and studied the ronin. Renshiro was sitting cross-legged beside him, his left hand holding up the box with three fingers.
Seiki reached his left hand over. “I’d grab your hand, push here with my thumb to make you let go, then Slide out of here.” He slowly acted out the moves without actually touching Renshiro.
“And I’d try to stop you.” Renshiro raised his right hand.
“And I’d block, like this,” said Seiki. “Then I’d be dead.” At his level, he could not take the slightest hit from the ronin, and the reason why they had been able to grapple was entirely because Miya had kept Warding him.
Seiki laughed, wondering if this was Renshiro’s indirect way to warn him.
“Here’s the thing, kid. You have the right idea, but you don’t know how to do it properly.” Renshiro waved a finger at him. “How does the game register damage?”
Seiki grabbed his chin for a moment as he thought about it. “It calculates on impact?”
“Impact and intention,” said the ronin. “That’s why a glancing blow is possible. That’s why a graze is possible. Someone tries to do something, and if it goes perfectly according to how they intend it, the game registers the full number. If it doesn’t, it subtracts a percentage. The calculation is most of the time an approximate, but what you can do is this: the opponent expects impact, the game expects impact, so just don’t give it to them.”
Seiki had never really seen it this way before. Ever since the Ichikeya challenge, when he learned that even a perfect block nearly killed him when the other party was 13 levels above, he had been very wary of any kind of direct impact.
“Basic rules of physics still apply,” Renshiro added. “I know you know a few things about that, so use it to your advantage. I hit you like this.” He raised his hand, before grabbing Seiki’s arm and putting it against his raised arm, imitating a block. “Instead of blocking, wait for contact and, at that point, yield first.” Renshiro pushed Seiki’s arm downward, and under.
“Then dodge around the momentum, and now you can grab,” Seiki finished. This was the way to avoid impact, while being able to get close. This would give him an opportunity to go for a grab or a throw. Why had he never thought about it? That was exactly how the strangely-named haunted futon from the mission had managed to avoid so much damage; so it made perfect sense.
“It’s difficult to do, and if you miss, you’re dead.” Renshiro grinned. “But it’s worth a try.”
Seiki closed his eyes to visualize the move. If he could grab Renshiro’s arm, he would be in a good position to pin him down, grab the box and Slide out before Renshiro could attack.
But then again, he had given his word on this truce, and Renshiro did not seem to be trying to force him right now. When the time came, this would be incredibly useful, though.
The ronin must have noticed a new spark in Seiki’s eyes as he thought about it. “Bet you your old Master Nishiyama never taught you that.”
“Master Tsujihara,” said Seiki.
“The old man teaches you perfect forms, but that’s only half the story,” continued Renshiro. “And this is what people aren’t aware of. Anatomy also works to a certain extent. No matter what level they are, you hit someone on the back of their head, they will fall over, even if it does no damage. You slash someone on the back of their knees, they’re not getting up for a while. You stab someone in the throat, they actually choke on blood.”
Seiki stared at Renshiro again, this time completely aghast. “I don’t think I’m going to be doing that,” he finally managed.
“Like I said, kid. No rules, no consequences; so it really brings out the worst in people. If you’re going to survive the Wilderness, you’d better know these things.” Renshiro paused. “And before you get ideas.” He tossed the blood-locked box over to Itsuki, who caught it with two hands and pocketed it. “We’ll deal with this after midnight, and I taught you the basics so you can’t say it’s not fair.”
Despite everything, Seiki was reminded once again that the Wilderness was a lawless place. “Fine,” he said. “We might have to move that up, though.”
Renshiro was getting up to join his companions by the fire and leave Seiki to his fishing, but he stopped in surprise. “In a hurry?”
“I’m on an unofficial curfew,” said Seiki, as he picked the fishing rod back up.
The ronin chuckled. “What? Girlfriend wants you in bed?”
Seiki sighed and said nothing.
Renshiro looked at him for a moment. “Get yourself that fish and off Fatigue and we’ll settle this.” The man got up and walked away. “No hard feelings, kid. We all gotta do what we gotta do.”
“Yeah,” said Seiki. He had a feeling Renshiro was not going to cut him any slack, and somehow he appreciated it. Without Miya to keep things under control, however, Seiki knew it would be very hard for Renshiro not to accidentally kill him. Somehow, the thought of going off alone again made him feel strangely pensive.
“You’re not going to need my help with that, are you?” asked Satoru. “Because I’ve got something to do for a bit right now.”
“No,” said Renshiro.
Satoru logged out, and Itsuki sighed. “Can’t we just give him food and you settle whatever you have to settle so we can be on our way?”
“No,” said Renshiro again, earning a long groan from the ninja girl.
Like Renshiro had said, fishing required a lot of patience, and Seiki stared at the school of small fish dancing in the water as he mulled over the events of these last few hours. The Wilderness was unforgiving and, whether intentional or not, this had given rise to tightly-knitted groups of people, as well as player-made rules to govern themselves. These self-proclaimed outlaws seemed to have found somewhere they belonged and seemed completely in their element.
It would not be surprising that they knew a fair bit about clan politics, too.
“Why would someone invade a clan territory and then take no
thing?” asked Seiki, deciding to pick their brains a little on this one. “When you kill them, they have absolutely nothing on them.”
“Steal food,” replied Itsuki, almost immediately. “High-level food gives extra hours on no Fatigue. There’s this thing, whatchamacallit, uh, some kind of grilled eel with some leaf thing on top. It’s delicious, and clans load up on these for a hunt.” She sounded excited at the thought. “Even if they catch you, you’ve already eaten it, and they can kill you, but that takes only an hour off the extra time you got.”
Seiki chuckled. He had not expected that answer, and he was somehow certain she had done it before. “I don’t think that’s what those people were doing.”
“What invasion are you talking about?” asked Renshiro.
Before Seiki could reply, a nearby bush rustled, and almost immediately everyone, including Seiki, was on their feet, with weapons drawn, ready to face whatever instant perils the Wilderness had decided to throw at them. The intruder, however, turned out to be no hungry mountain spirit, but a tiny old lady with a walking stick, carrying a large sack, who had no name and no level.
Her hair was wrapped up in an old scarf, and her sack seemed a little too large for her to carry. “Hello, travelers!” she greeted them with her hoarse voice.
“About time we ran into one,” said Itsuki in delight, as she ran up to the old lady. “What have you got today, obaa-chan?”
“Wilderness dealers,” explained Renshiro, before sheathing his Tamakiri. “They sell random basic survival items like tinderboxes, fish bait and arrowheads.”
The old lady quickly laid out her wares, most of which seemed to fall into place like magic once she had spread out her sack. Seiki could see she had a few low-level knives, two health potions, one energy potion, a small stack of post paper, and a very fine jeweled tinderbox, which was marked with its pawn shop price of 70 gold—plus a few other items Seiki could not quite make out. Itsuki crouched down and started looking through the goods.
“Got a fishing rod, lady?” asked Renshiro.
“Not today,” said the old peddler.
“Apart from really basic things, it’s all random.” Renshiro sat back down beside the fire, and waved his hand as a signal for Seiki to keep trying to fish. “They also work as mobile banks. In the Wilderness, if you want to do a bit of risk management, you can trade valuables for these jeweled tinderboxes or ivory horse whistles. They’re just duplicates of your regular pieces, but you can later sell them at the city pawn shop or to village shops for gold.”
“I see,” said Seiki. “Because these are things that can’t be looted if you die.”
“Yes. So, you save some of your accumulated wealth.” He dusted something off his sleeve. “There are dealers who stay in specific locations in their little houses scattered all around, so if you know the Wilderness, you know where to find them. But they move every month or so, to keep things interesting. And the Society doesn’t really cover these things in their newsletter.”
Itsuki let out a gasp. Seiki turned to look again and saw a tiny colorful item in her hand.
Enchanted Coral Bracelet. +79 defense. +3% energy regeneration.
Magic classes often had bracelets instead of armguards, and this was apparently a very good one. Even Seiki could not help staring at the ridiculous defense stat.
“How much for this?” said Itsuki.
“Three hundred gold, nine silver, and thirty-eight coppers,” said the old lady.
Itsuki grunted.
Renshiro laughed. “Itsuki won’t believe it’s this whole joke where they will always show you something you really want but can’t afford. And if you grab it and run, the old lady turns out to be faster than you and very lethal with her walking stick.”
“Seiki,” said the ninja girl, still eyeing the coral bracelet. “You have an unnamed dagger.”
“Yes,” said Seiki. “Why?”
“Can I borrow it for a second?”
“No.”
“Please, just for a second. It’s a normal blade. You can get another one any time.”
“I don’t think so.”
The ninja girl turned to him. “I’ll tell you who owns the key Ren-san’s trying to get his hands on.”
“Itsuki,” said Renshiro.
“I’ll also tell you all of Ren-san’s secrets from his blood-soaked past.”
“Itsuki!” said the ronin again.
Seiki laughed as he noticed Renshiro getting ruffled.
“Fuoka Army,” Itsuki said, seriously. “That key belongs to the Fuoka Army.”
Renshiro sighed.
Seiki had expected it to be a bluff but, judging from Renshiro’s expression, it must have been true. He slowly pulled the Jade Steel dagger from his belt. “I’m just letting you borrow it, okay?”
Itsuki ran toward him in delight, grabbed the blade and dashed back toward the peddler. “How much will you give me for this dagger?”
“Won’t be three hundred,” said Renshiro.
The peddler smiled. “That’s not your dagger, child.”
Itsuki turned back toward Seiki. “Unequip it for a sec, please.”
Seiki blinked and glanced at Renshiro. “She’s really going to sell it?”
“She won’t be able to. Like I said, it’s a joke. So even if you sell them all your things, you’ll still be a few gold short of being able to buy their special item.”
“Come on,” said Itsuki, impatiently. “I just want to check the price. And Ren-san, you’re going to lend me your forty gold.”
“It’s not going to work this time, Itsuki,” said Renshiro.
“Ren-san owes the Fuoka Army lots of favors, you know,” Itsuki said to Seiki. “They were the only people to step up when Kano Castle—”
“Itsuki!” said Renshiro.
“Okay, don’t say anything anymore,” Seiki said, wondering how it was even possible that he was being blackmailed into giving up his dagger and refusing to listen to other people’s secrets at the same time. With a sigh, he removed the blade from his secondary weapon slot.
Renshiro stared at him for a moment and burst out laughing.
The old peddler studied the dagger. “Thirty-eight gold.”
“Are you kidding?” said Itsuki. “No way that’s worth less than a hundred!”
“They sense your desperation,” said Renshiro in amusement.
The old peddler was looking at the girl with her hawkish eyes, showing no sign of yielding. “Actually, I miscalculated. Now it’s worth thirty-five,” said the old lady.
These peddlers were the shop houses of the wild but, like everything else in the Wilderness, they went by no set rules and had to be negotiated with.
Itsuki sighed. “Ren-san,” she said. “Give me your armguard.”
“Not a chance,” said the ronin.
Itsuki turned to frown at him. “Or I’ll—” Her eyes suddenly widened and she collapsed.
Itsuki [Level 17]. HP 0/1928. Lootable.
Renshiro cursed and leapt to his feet. But before he could draw his sword, he grunted and dropped to the ground.
Renshiro [Level 19]. HP 0/2849. Lootable.
Seiki stared.
The old peddler let out a long wail. “No, no, no, this is bad for business!” she said, as she wrapped up her goods in a kind of speed not possible for humans and disappeared into a nearby bush. Seiki could now hear sounds of a horse, and a lot of rustling.
From the edge of the clearing, a figure in white and red approached: Rieko of the Rogami Clan [Level 26], on her shadowless horse. Beside her, a few more people on horseback were hidden in the shade of the trees.
“Look what we’ve got here in the middle of nowhere.” Rieko smiled, before glancing at the dead bodies on the ground by the fire and looking at Seiki. “You run with outlaws now?”
Seiki did the only thing he could as the chilly hand of Freeze started to wrap itself around his heart: he lunged over and reache
d toward Renshiro’s body.
Do you want to loot?
“No,” Seiki gasped. He was sure he did not have to say it out loud, but then again he had never attempted to loot—or not loot—a dead player before and he wanted to make sure. At least, this way, their unique blade would be safe and would respawn beside Renshiro along with his other belongings in the nearest spirit shrine.
As the ronin’s body dispersed into smoke, the Freeze was in full effect. Seiki had made sure he landed with both knees on the ground, though, and he broke out of it with Slide.
Another Freeze locked him in place again almost immediately, before he could completely get to his feet. Itsuki’s body was still out of range. Seiki glanced toward it. Beside her was the Jade Steel dagger that had dropped out of her hands.
“Don’t, boya,” said Rieko, a slight smile still on her lips. “We both know you can’t. Only one Slide left, and I’m here. Suguru’s here. And we have Chise here now, who would be very happy to try out her new ability.”
Seiki looked at her warily, wondering how many obake the Rogami Clan had in their unholy collection. What she said was true and it was Slide’s initial propulsion that burst through traps, and he would never reach Itsuki’s body before they could paralyze him again mid-Slide.
The rest of the Rogami members had stepped closer, and Seiki could see Chise of the Rogami Clan [Level 18], a short girl in frilly blue and gray, as well as two people he was far more well-acquainted with than he wished to be: Suguru of the Rogami Clan [Level 23] and Kojiro of the Rogami Clan [Level 22], the latter of whom appeared, as usual, with the gigantic Oni Cleaver strapped across his back.
Rieko urged her horse a bit closer. “There are things you really shouldn’t be handling at your level, boya. I had promised Kojiro he could kill you this time, so I’m afraid there’s no good way out of this.”
At that, Kojiro leapt down from his black horse. He grabbed his thick rectangular blade from his back, whose line of metal rings jingled oddly in the deathly silence that had fallen. “No patrols, no old players to disturb us.” The samurai’s lips parted in an evil grin. “Now, draw your sword.”
“Have fun,” said Rieko.