The Dark Continent (Underdog Book #3): LitRPG Series

Home > Fantasy > The Dark Continent (Underdog Book #3): LitRPG Series > Page 3
The Dark Continent (Underdog Book #3): LitRPG Series Page 3

by Alexey Osadchuk


  — Free characteristics: 3

  Chapter 3

  AFTER GETTING the notification, the first thing I did was take a look at Gorgie’s magical ability. Alas, the ceiling hadn’t changed there. Maximum level two. Seems I guessed right – we’ll have to wait for the harn to hit level fifteen. The Great System had different laws for him – one spell improvement every five levels. But still I’ll give it another look later. The thing is that out of ignorance and, why hide it, pure oversight, we had already overlooked one such rank-up possibility for Mee.

  It was the same day I gave the gremlin the iridescent tablet. After activating it, we tried to raise Wave of Healing to level two but were denied. The notification suggested that we raise his overall level to five. And we immediately did just that. But our calculations were off. For some reason, we both were under the impression that the gremlin’s skill increase system would work the same as the harn’s. And all we had to do was run a test. We had plenty of esses and silvers.

  In the end, much later, Mee discovered our error. And after the memorable battle in Dry Gully, we corrected it. Overall, by poking and prodding and making mistakes, we established that magical abilities can be ranked up for gremlins starting at level three. Once every two levels. In other words, Mee’s next spell increase could have come at nine, not ten like we thought.

  I had a catastrophic lack of knowledge. Sure, I had a certain amount of experience now but, if I’d known the spell improvement scheme earlier, I could have saved us a lot of stupid mistakes. What am I even saying!? Ever since my life got turned on its head, I had come to realize that I knew practically nothing about the world I inhabit.

  Alas, in school we were taught little about magic. Practically nothing. And at home I didn’t particularly raise the topic either. The only thing I knew about how to become a mage was that you needed to get a tablet of intellect. And that was practically impossible so it followed that there was no reason to so much as mention what would come next. Although, who didn’t play dragon slayer as a kid? Who didn’t imagine themselves a great hero, most often brother warrior, more rarely brother hunter, killing a magical monster in glorious battle and receiving a tablet of intellect for the trouble? Every boy in my class dreamed of becoming a mage. I wonder what they would say now if they found out that their former classmate, crippled freak Eric Bergman, actually pulled it off. I smiled unwittingly. I’d like to see their stupid faces when they heard that news.

  Gorgie’s impatient growl pulled me out of my pensive state.

  “Sorry, brother.”

  I opened the harn’s characteristics again and, concentrating, asked:

  “Well? As always, attack first, then defense? And don’t forget about little Mee. He needs to get beefed up, too.”

  Under Gorgie’s stubborn gaze, I habitually put some of the silver tablets and the three bonus points into his attack skills. Then I brought Defense, Intuition, Wisdom, Animal Instinct and Regeneration to the max and, finally, looked admiringly at the result.

  ― Ferocious Harn.

  ― Name: Gorgie.

  ― Level: 12 (0/86000).

  ― Status: Loyalty to master (permanent).

  ― Mind: 1/1

  ― Strength: 159/180

  ― Agility: 158/180

  ― Accuracy: 5.8/180

  ― Intuition: 12/12

  ― Wisdom: 24/24

  ― Animal instinct: 24/24

  ― Speed: 155/180

  ― Flexibility: 58/180

  ― Intellect: 110/120

  ― Health: 110/120

  ― Endurance: 110/120

  ― Mana supply: 1150/1150

  ― Life supply: 1150/1150

  ― Energy supply: 1150/1150

  ― Scale armor: 60/60

  ― Defense: 600/600

  ― Damage: +497.2…+1585.1

  ― Bite: 60/60

  ― Paw swipe: 60/60

  ― Pounce: 12/12

  ― Animal regeneration: 24/24

  ― Hunter: 39/60

  ― Fisher: 17.8/60

  ― Resistance to Hexapod poison: 7/60

  ― Thorntail’s Jump.

  ― Level: 2 (0/60).

  Accuracy and Resistance to Hexapod poison were pretty far behind the other characteristics. But we discussed it and decided the former would only be necessary when Gorgie got a long-distance attack spell, while the latter was simply no longer relevant.

  Gorgie gave a few muted snarls to let out his excess feelings, which naturally roused Mee.

  “Morning so soon?” the gremlin asked, yawning.

  “Nope,” I muttered. “It’s just that a certain cave cat here just took a couple dozen tablets. And so, he’s expressing his joy.”

  “Hrn,” Gorgie immediately chimed in to confirm.

  “Oh!” Mee exclaimed. “Level twelve already! Congratulations, brother!”

  Gorgie’s response was a purr of satisfaction.

  “Seeing you’re already up,” I turned to Mee. “I’ve got some gifts for you.”

  I extended him the ring, amulet and remaining tablets. Mee gave a happy snort and got straight to trying on his new stuff.

  “Read the amulet description,” I warned. “There are a few peculiarities.”

  “Yes, yes. I know,” Mee called back. “I saw the way the orcs treat such amulets.”

  “Good,” I nodded in the darkness. “When it gets down to thirty percent, give it to me to refill.”

  After we discussed the optimal way to use his tablets, Mee activated Healing on himself and got to incorporating them. When the last silver dissolved into thin air, the gremlin switched right off. He’ll be fine by morning. Thanks to the Regeneration, he adapts much quicker and less painfully now.

  I glanced at what we ended up with.

  ― Steppe Gremlin.

  ― Name: Mee.

  ― Level: 7 (0/35000).

  ― Status: Loyalty to elder family member (permanent).

  ― Mind: 14/14

  ― Wisdom: 14/14

  ― Strength:70/70

  ― Agility: 72.6/70

  ― Health: 70/70

  ― Accuracy: 17.8/70

  ― Speed: 41.4‬/70

  ― Intellect: 70/70

  ― Observation: 15.9/70

  ― Endurance:70/70

  ― Life supply:720/720

  ― Energy supply:720/720

  ― Mana supply:720/720

  ― Skills and abilities:

  ― Butchery:50/70

  ― Knife proficiency: 17.5/70

  ― Herbalism: 13.3/70

  ― Hunter:2/70

  ― Fisher:2/70

  ― Rider: 21/70

  ― Hiding spot maker: 0.3/70

  ― Hiding spot pillager: 0.2/70

  ― Wave of healing.

  ― Level: 3 (0/50).

  ― Dome of invisibility.

  ― Level: 3 (0/50).

  ― Potion making.

  ― Level: 0 (0/20).

  ― Sling: 7/7

  ― Magical defense: 1000/1000

  In theory, all of Mee’s main figures were maxed out and, by and large, it was time to bring him up a level. His Agility in fact was a bit more than two over the ceiling with the ring. But Mee decided to spend a bit longer at seven to work on his other characteristics.

  I checked through my backpack one last time just in case then read my friends’ figures and crashed down to sleep with a clean conscience.

  * * *

  Seven days had passed since we looted the orc camp. At first, I was constantly looking around with trepidation and expecting to see familiar slouching silhouettes among the trees or to hear the howls of wargs. But by the end of the seventh day, after the third snowfall that week, I was finally convinced that we had gotten away.

  When we came upon a snowdrift, Mee voiced a guess that the main contingent of orcs probably had yet to return to that camp. In other words, the ones who made the hiding spots we pillaged simply did not yet know they’d been cleane
d out. And when they did find out, it would already be too late. The snowfall once again played into our hand.

  The further west we went the more human footprints we came across. For the first few days, we only saw fully torched forest huts. It wasn’t hard to guess who was behind that. But on day five we came across a village. And remarkably the buildings were intact. Small, time-grayed and abandoned by their owners, but intact.

  When I saw the squalid little huts, much to my own surprise, I was elated. That was because this could only mean one thing – we had crossed an invisible border. We were finally on territory that was roughly under human control.

  I knew that wasn’t to be for long. I had seen the Horde. To be more accurate I had seen a small part of it, which was mostly made up of slaves building a camp for the main warband, the size of which was frightening to imagine.

  I can say with no exaggeration that the local baron will be landless before the end of winter. And his nearest neighbor as well, most likely. The horde will swallow up these lands whole.

  I wonder how the Steel King is planning to stop the orcs. Turn to the order of mages?

  If there’s one thing I have learned about mages it’s that they’re a willful, presumptuous and calculating bunch of pricks. The order prefers to influence government policy from the capital, not venture out to the edge of the Wastes. Although they probably have apprentices who could stand a bit of combat experience. But honestly, those are all just guesses and nothing more.

  The last two days had proven these lands to be fairly densely populated and that was regardless of the nasty neighbors. Based on the abandoned villages we were coming across now, and we were no longer even counting them, people never lived too high on the horse out here. But you couldn’t exactly call them poor either. The huts are all small but sturdy and well-made.

  In the middle of the day today we finally saw our first locals. Twenty people at least. Like ants they were hurriedly scampering through a village, dragging their belongings out of the houses and onto sleighs. I counted five sleighs and two carts.

  After a brief consultation, we decided to leave the sparse woods under a Dome of Invisibility and come closer to the village. The closer we came, the more suspicious the people seemed. At first I couldn’t understand what the matter was, but then it finally hit me. There are no women or children. Only men. These aren’t locals. These are marauders!

  They were taking everything they could carry out of the homes and hauling it away. Benches, stools, tables, assorted rags, dishes.

  Watching the scavengers, I was slightly taken aback. But then I got mad. My hands clenched into fists so tight it hurt. My jaw muscles started to twitch on my cheeks. I suddenly remembered the people taking all our family’s things from my old home. Mom’s favorite mugs and napkins, dad’s armchair and jacket. My toys and clothing.

  Suddenly I felt a light touch against my hand. Lowering my eyes, I saw Mee’s concerned face.

  “What happened?” he asked, frowning.

  Gorgie supported him with a muted snarl.

  I squinted for a moment and turned my head, driving off the angry thoughts. Then I turned toward the forest and threw out dully:

  “Everything is fine. I just got reminded of something. Let’s get out of here.”

  * * *

  For the next four days, the snow and blizzards never ended. The sun peeked out and the severe frost struck us. Winter had finally come in full measure.

  In my childhood, I really liked the fairytales my mom used to tell me about Lord Frost. They say he’s the one who draws white patterns on our windowpanes or mixes enchanted diamond dust into the snow to make it glimmer so beautifully in the sun. And it is his breath that traps rivers and lakes beneath the ice. Wrapping myself tighter in the fur shawl, hiding my nose and cheeks, I felt grouchy as I recalled the imaginary character from my childhood. Ugh, what a bitter cold!

  We stopped to sleep in abandoned villages and small farms, choosing homes on the outskirts, nearer the forest. I no longer believed the orcs would be catching up to us. And we weren’t afraid of people.

  Today was one of those evenings. We’d taken a fancy to a little hut to spend the night. Mee had already lit a fire in the hearth and soon dinner would be ready. Then suddenly, Gorgie stopped dozing peacefully by the fire, raised his head in alarm and started listening closely. A moment later we already knew that uninvited guests had come to the village.

  We put out the fire right away. Though there was no need. We’d covered the windows with thick bedspreads, so they would hardly have noticed the light. But as for the smell of smoke from the stovepipe, they’d probably picked up on it already.

  Slowly making my way onto the inner porch, I carefully opened the front door just a hair and peeked out the gap.

  At first it was hard to tell just who was dropping by. There was no way to see because of all the homes in the way. Only one thing was clear – they were humans. Quite a lot of them. I heard horses neighing.

  Maybe refugees?

  The situation became clear when the new arrivals split off into groups of two and three with brightly lit torches in their hands and started walking through the village.

  One such trio just so happened to be making a beeline our way. Based on the way they were casually chatting, nobody had noticed the smoke coming out of our stovepipe yet.

  One step away from the short wooden fence surrounding our front yard, one of the three stopped short and gave a sniff. His comrades did the same. Turning their heads from side to side, the men quickly determined the source of the smoke.

  Looking a bit closer, I finally figured out who we were dealing with. Old acquaintances of ours. Marauders.

  Based on their clothes – villagers. Levels from eight to nine. As for weapons: wooden clubs and knives. No enemies of ours.

  They were reluctant to approach our house. After a bit of thought, one got sent back. Clearly for a bit of help. And just a couple minutes later, there was a crowd of twenty or so men at our fence. The large number of torches made it much brighter. So we could see what was happening outside perfectly.

  It was plain to see that the men didn’t have a unified command structure. But there was one big fellow that stood out. His level was higher too – eleven. In shoulder breadth and paunch size he surpassed all his partners in crime by quite a bit. At the very least, when he spoke, they obeyed.

  The people were acting fairly obtusely. I could tell right away that none of them had ever served in any army. They’re still thronging aimlessly and arguing out loud. And meanwhile they could have sent a few people to walk around the house. And themselves spread out along the fence. What if we were archers? The crowd of chatty village louts would have made for a great target. It’s no surprise the orcs have so many slaves.

  As I watched over our “guests,” I was thinking over exactly what I was going to do. I didn’t want to kill or paralyze anybody. Simply spook them with magic? No way. Tidings of the boy mage would spread quickly.

  But what if…

  Glancing at Gorgie, sitting next to me and watching the hopeless bipeds, I said:

  “Wanna have some fun?”

  The harn’s eyes flickered with interest. Walking away from the doors, I beckoned with a hand:

  “Spook them. Make them run away. But don’t touch anyone.”

  It finally hit Gorgie what I wanted from him. With an impatient snarl, he slipped out the door silent as a shadow and dissolved into the darkness.

  A few seconds later, we heard him give a fearsome roar from off to the right. The gremlin and I shuddered unwittingly in surprise. A chill ran down my spine. The fur on Mee’s head stood on end.

  My plan was a one-hundred-percent success. The men bunched up at the fence froze for a moment when they heard the fearsome roar. Then, like a group of frightened mice, they bolted the opposite direction. And strange as it may have been, the pot-bellied big guy was running a solid five paces ahead of the others. By all appearances, fighting some unknown
monster did not enter into his plans.

  Gorgie’s roaring, the frightened screams of the people and the panicked neighing of their horses went on for another few minutes. But then the noise gradually started to diminish. And the village was again blanketed in silence.

 

‹ Prev