by Pavel Kornev
My forehead and cheeks dripped with sweat, my lungs were about to explode. My heart was pounding, my legs leaden. Every step had become a struggle. I knew perfectly well that I was lying motionless in my virtual capsule and that my body had no need for all this excess oxygen that made my pulse race; but knowing it wasn’t helping one bit. In theory, my fatigue should have only affected my Stamina reading, nothing else, but somehow I had to strain every muscle in order to keep on running. Also, it felt as if my feet were raw with blisters.
Very soon, the orcs realized that their prey knew it was being chased, so they stopped hiding. I started hearing their voices and secret-code whistles. They picked up the pace, forcing me to do the same. In the meantime, running had become a struggle because of the muddy, swampy ground underfoot. Now that the swamp had reached this side of the road, every step I took rose a fountain of muddy water, the roadside bushes giving way to generous bulrushes.
That’s when Three-Handed Gho came back into being. He didn’t seem in a hurry to catch up with me, nor did he even launch a bolt of lightning at me — no, he just kept texting me, showering me with insults. I didn’t reply. I just kept running.
He must have planned to distract me, so I just soldiered on, gasping and wheezing, getting closer to Rotten Woods. It was getting dark quickly as I came across a few pangolins whose territory bordered the swamps but luckily, every time I managed to see them just in time to give them a wide berth. Quite a few arrows came from above but I don’t think the orcs could see me: they must have been shooting at random. In the end, they must have despaired of ever catching up with me because their voices began to distance until they really slowed down, visibly lagging behind. They just didn’t dare approach a town of Light.
I forced my way through the bushes toward the squat town walls and collapsed onto the grass. I’d made it!
14 hrs 03 min…
ROTTEN WOODS turned out to be a small backwater which was basically just a base and a meeting point for newbs who still struggled to find their way around the game. A dozen inns and taverns, half a dozen shops, garrison barracks, a handful of houses, a brothel, the townhall and a Tower or Power, that was the extent of it.
I wasn’t in a hurry to go see the Lighties. First, I opened the system menu. Three-Handed Gho was still raving, telling me his clan would blacklist me, so I just blocked him and wrote a letter to support, complaining about his inadequate behavior. Although the game’s official slogan was More Than Just A Game, their moderators seemed to subscribe to a directly opposite point of view. According to them, this was “only a game,” so whoever indulged in profanity and threats in private messaging could face a certain punishment. So why not play a dirty trick on the shaman whose toes seemed to be a tad too long? All’s fair in love and war. He’d asked for it, hadn’t he?
Once I’d finished writing, I came back onto the road and strode toward the town gates. A group of mounted warriors rode past me, ignoring my presence. In any case, I wasn’t the only one trying to find shelter in town from the approaching night: more players kept emerging from the swamps, some of them caked all over in mud and loaded with scaly pelts of swamp monsters, others just caked in mud and blood. Apparently, not everyone had enjoyed a good hunt.
Another caravan arrived, unloading more news who were immediately approached by recruiters, both players and NPCs.
“We accept new clan members!”
“We have the best weapons!”
“If you invest a hundred, we’ll pay you back a thousand in a week!”
“Cheap potions!”
“Loans available!”
“Rushed leveling! Highwaymen hunting!”
“Treasure hunt! Everybody’s welcome!”
Right by the gates, players were busy selling and buying the items they didn’t need anymore. I elbowed past them and headed for the Tower of Power. Before, I’d never got the chance to see a dwelling of Light beings so close up. The tower rose before me like a pillar of white light reaching for the sky. In the thickening twilight, the sight was especially impressive. And still I could make out the building’s physical structure in the light, its vaulted windows and the fancy stonework of the parapet crowning it.
I shook off the slumber and opened the teleport travel interface. Jesus. True, it would cost me a thousand coins less to port from here, but even so I just didn’t have enough.
Grudgingly I had to part with the orc shaman’s carved staff. I got four hundred for it — in the capital, it would have fetched me twice as much. But I had no choice: I needed the money now.
I walked back to the Tower of Power, selected the portal closest to Mr. Lloyd’s shop and activated it, collapsing into a dark void.
The problem was, the void was real. The world around me filled with a viscous blackness. I could just about make out a spot which was darker than the rest of this pitch-black unreality.
Dammit! The Angel of Darkness had found me, hadn’t he?
“It’s been a while,” he hissed. I could almost see his clawed hand grab my head, about to squash it like a rotten walnut.
“Hey, hey, hey!” I said. “Easy!”
“Easy?” he repeated in disbelief. “After you killed twenty of my clan’s best sorcerers?”
“That’s not your clan,” I said. “The players can take care of themselves.”
The creature laughed, stepped back and finally revealed himself in the dark. “We’re brave now, aren’t we?”
“Of course. I’m alive now. I could file a complaint with the admins if I wanted to.”
I wasn’t really sure whether the Angel of Darkness knew about the purpose of my return to the game, so I decided not to start by threatening him with my clout. I’d better keep this trump card for a rainy day when the going got really tough.
The Angel of Darkness shook his head. “What a remarkably adaptive mind. He doesn’t confuse the game and reality even though he should…”
Something in his words triggered some sort of memory I couldn’t quite place. It flashed through my mind and disappeared.
The Angel’s impenetrable black eyes focused on me. “Actually, you’re right. Let the players take care of you. The game is going to be interesting…”
I tensed. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Well, what do you expect? You’ve offended the Spawn of Darkness so now you’ll have to face the music. Those blacklisted by the clan don’t have it easy. And this is strictly between players. The admins can’t help with that.”
“What are you like? You were the ones trying to kill me!”
The Angel grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You were the one who struck the first blow. You might still get the chance to rectify the situation though…”
The conversation definitely wasn’t going the way I’d wanted it too. Still, I couldn’t do anything about it anyway, immobilized in the clutches of the darkness.
The monster — darkness incarnated — waited a while for my reaction, then continued. “I’d like to offer you a deal…”
“Sure!” I laughed. “Every time I strike a deal with you, someone tries to rip me off and kill me. I don’t think so!”
“You have no other option,” he argued, faking surprise. “Or do you prefer to live with a target pinned to your back? Would you rather die several times a day? Because that’s what it’s gonna be like. This is the only option you have. It’s enough to put a price on your head to turn this game into your personal hell. Now, if you join the clan and prove yourself useful…”
I shook my head. “No deals. Definitely not with you.”
“With whom, then?” he asked, pointing a claw at my face. “With the Light ones who put that mark on your cheek? Actually what did they want?”
“Not they. She. But it was nothing. Just talking,” I shrugged. “They made me an offer.”
I didn’t tell him that the only offer the white witch had made me was to get the hell out of the game. I just didn’t want to show all my cards to th
is clot of black ink. Because he didn’t seem to have taken my rejection lightly.
“Did she invite you to join them?” he asked. “Did she want you to team up with the Sons of Light? I hope you didn’t say yes?”
“No, I didn’t. Yet,” I added with a smirk. “I might need some time to work out what you all want from me. It’s not as if I’m the only player in the game.”
The Angel spread his claws, admiring their matte glow. “Very soon you’re about to become a celebrity. Several months of extended immersion is no joke. It would be great promotion for any clan. All the constant mentions in the media and the word of mouth… that might be worth a lot.”
“How much is a lot?” I asked.
The angel started counting, unbending his fingers. “Unblacklisting you. Offering protection. Help with leveling. Access to the clan’s armory,” he gave me a studying look and bared his fangs. “Still not happy? How about specialization training? All this just for joining our clan.”
The cheese in their mousetrap smelled just too good. “I’ll think about it,” I said as evasively as I could.
He didn’t seem to have liked my answer. Once again he leaned forward. “What did those Lighties offer you?”
“What difference does that make?”
“They’re gonna rip you off.”
“Listen, it’s not as if the Spawn smell of roses, either. They sent me to the Kingdom of the Dead and set a bunch of hitmen on me! It was a miracle I got out of there in one piece!”
“That was their own initiative,” the angel grumbled. “It won’t happen again.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“What’s there to think about?”
“Plenty.”
The darkness began to swirl, restless. Still, the angel quickly got himself back in check. “Okay. I’ll offer you another deal. You promise me not to join any of the Light clans, and I…” he gave me a long look. “What do you want in return?”
“To be removed from your black-,” I began unhesitantly.
He waved a resolute hand, stopping me mid-word. “No! After that massacre, I don’t think I can talk my worshippers into forgiving you without good reason. You’ll have to ask for something else.”
I could see he wasn’t going to deprive himself of the proverbial stick, so I had to choose from among the carrots he had to offer. Seeing as the Light side wasn’t in a hurry to ask me to join them, anyway, I didn’t play too hard to get. “Can you teach me Stealth?”
“If you join the clan, we might find good teachers to train you.”
I shook my head. “Last time, you made me an apprentice in the Dance of Darkness school of combat.”
“Your Dodge isn’t good enough now.”
“Is that a problem?”
He paused, thinking, then chuckled to his own thoughts and offered me his clawed hand. “Not really. Deal?”
“Deal!” I replied, laughing in my heart of hearts. That would teach him! Talk about the fooler getting fooled! He’d imagined all sorts of things and virtually forced that training on me for free!
We discussed the contract’s terms and shook on it. My fingers went through empty space as the darkness dispelled, releasing me. I collapsed onto the cobblestones.
I tried to scramble back up to my feet but gasped with a jolt of agonizing pain. Darkness escaped from within me, enveloping my head like a swarm of flies, then got sucked right back, endowing me with new knowledge, a sharp pain in the back of my head and unbearable aching in all my joints and muscles.
“Wow,” gasped a player who happened nearby. “Where did you get that cool curse?”
Curse? I shook my head, scrambled back to my feet and staggered away.
Why was I so unstable on my feet? What kind of shit had he put in my head?
The Sacred Gift of Darkness
New status received: a Disciple of the Dance of Darkness school of combat
Warning! Your current level of Dodge is inferior to the status’ requirements!
Penalty: 10% Health
New status received: an Apprentice of the Dance of Darkness school of combat
Warning! Your current level of Dodge is inferior to the status’ requirements!
Penalty: 10% Health
That bastard! That’s why he’d been grinning as he closed the deal! He knew about it and hadn’t even bothered to warn me about the consequences!
Having said that, it was my fault. By now I should have known that deals with Darkness didn’t bode well. As a result, I hadn’t gained anything apart from losing 20% health.
Dammit!
I shook my head in disbelief as I slid into a dark lane between two rows of houses. I walked down it toward the embankment, crossed the bridge over the channel to the next island and delved deeper into the maze of narrow streets, heading for Mr. Lloyd’s shop. The walls of expensive mansions were closing around me; their tiled roofs blocked the view, leaving only a thin strip of the sky still visible overhead.
But even so, every patch of open space — like a crossroads or a small square — revealed the impossibly tall pylon of the Tower of Darkness dominating the city. When I’d been a deadman, I’d never really noticed it, but now its gloomy bulk seemed to press me to the ground. My skin was covered in goosebumps — not because of the constant cold draft but rather due to the tangible presence of Hell’s fiery heat.
I can’t say I was happy with such an inopportune surge in my sensitivity. By the time I reached the demonic alchemist’s shop, I was quite on edge. The sight of the Tower of Power seemed to make me restless, wishing I could hole up in some dark corner and take a break from its crushing presence. I almost ran across the shady inner court and up the steps, pulling the heavy door open under the sign which read,
We Buy and Sell Weapons, Armor & Amulets
As usual, Ulrich was minding the shop. Seeing me, he half-rose from his chair. “How can I help you?”
“Is the old boy in?” I asked.
Puzzled, he tilted his head aside and gave me a longer, closer look. “And you are…” he began hesitantly.
“Doe,” I said. “John Doe.”
Ulrich tapped his fingers on the counter, hesitating. I could see that his electronic brain was struggling to match the memory of a dark knight in a mithril mask to this level-20 misfit. No idea how it might have ended — but just then the door to the shop’s office opened.
“John, for crying out loud!” Mr. Lloyd shouted. “Come in already!”
Blinking, Ulrich slumped back into his chair. “It’s been a while, Mr. Doe,” he said, struggling to wake himself from his stupor.
I gave him an encouraging smile and followed Lloyd into the tiny closet which served as his alchemy lab. It hadn’t changed a bit since my last visit: the same crates, bookcases and a large table in the middle.
The alchemist hadn’t changed much, either. His gray hair was brushed back, revealing the short horns on his forehead. His skin had preserved its blueish tint; an amber flame glinted in his eyes.
“Was it Isabella who told you I’d be coming?” I asked, taking a seat opposite him.
He nodded. “Exactly. What do you want?”
I faltered. Good question. There was the amulet I’d taken off the ogre, of course, but I could have just as well shown it to Ulrich. As for the rest of the loot, I’d already sold all of it. The only thing I still had left was the bone.
He must have misconstrued my silence because he said,
“Sorry, but I just don’t have the time to update you on everything that’s happened in these last six months.”
I raised my hands in reconciliation. “That was the last thing on my mind!” I then produced the fragment of the thigh bone and laid it in front of him. “If I’m not mistaken, you used to have an interest in this sort of things.”
He picked up my trophy, studied it and chuckled. “The astrologers have announced this the month of the albino ogre, tripling the numbers of ogre hunters.”
“You mean this is just ju
nk?” I asked, quite upset by the news.
“Not necessarily,” he shrugged. “This sort of thing sells well. It’s just nothing special, that’s all. Nothing that could interest me personally.”
“How much?”
“I’ll give you a grand.”
I didn’t want to haggle. Instead, I produced a copper amulet with the orc’s head. “What would you say to this? Would you ID it for me? Feel free to subtract your fee from the payment for the bone.”
He chuckled as he took the item from me and scratched its surface with one of his neat little claws. “Bronze…”