“You don’t get it. Point is, you’ll take the place of a more useful player, see? We have only a few Estel sets. All right, come here.”
He stopped at one of the clan warehouses, opened several chests, and rummaged inside them.
“What’s that you’re wearing? Leather armor? Do you have at least 500 SP in Light Armor skill?”
Abbot placed three leather pieces in front of me: a battered black breastplate with metallic inserts, yellow-brown bracers decorated with etchings of dragons, and knee-high boots reinforced with greaves. All items belonged to different sets and had only one thing in common: a translucent oval-shaped stone glimmering with blue light was masterfully embedded into each of them.
“The affixes aren’t impressive,” I blurted out. “My current stuff has better stats.”
“Do you have free sockets? Then get your gear here, we’ll insert the Estel gems there,” Abbot chuckled.
Alas, I had none. Socketed items were highly valued, but often had weaker stats, as gems could give their wielders a significant boost.
“What’s the level of Dread in Helt Akor, generally?” I asked.
“Three points on top levels. The deeper you go, the worse it is. Last time, we bumped into a creature with an aura of ten. It dropped the entire raid in five minutes, ripping the main tank to shreds. For your information, I set the minimum Estel score for raid gear at +7. MT and OT have +10 sets. You’ll only have +4, not enough OM for more. Do you see now that you’re dead weight? Sorry for being rude, but that’s the truth.”
Estel, the property of magic gems inlaid into the gear that I had received, was generally useless. The only thing it did was compensate for Dread, the debuff in the hardest dungeons. One point of Dread decreased all stats by 10%. When the Dread scale was full — 10 points — the character got paralyzed and could only writhe helplessly. Estel, which meant “hope,” could be increased via the songs of bards and minstrels, but not by much and not for long. Magic gems were the best way to improve the score. They were rare and expensive, pursued by many players. Not so long ago, I had bought an entire shipment of them for the Watchers, getting a nifty discount. I remember how surprised I had been that one gem, meaning one item, couldn’t hold more than one point of Estel. The maximum boost gear could give was 10 points, as Estel gems couldn’t be inserted into weapons. That was the maximum cap, and I was sure that was how the developers increased dungeon difficulty.
“All right, you assemble tomorrow. All details are in the chat, I added you and gave you access. Read the pinned message and study the tactics. It’s important. Oh, and HotCat, I highly recommend you level up your combat skills if you want to continue raiding with us. Everything clear?”
* * *
The PvE raid gathered in Condor the next morning. There were forty-seven of us, including such big shots as Komtur, Olaf, Damian, and Abel. I also noticed Hermione and Lorindale. AlexOrder was there as well — the clan couldn’t make do without its only runemaster. I was surprised to see Valkyrie and Flame. The guys had truly stepped up their game: Maria, as it turned out, was training to become an assistant Raid Leader. She had all the makings of a good tactician with her quick thinking. Flame, despite his relatively low character age — he was only a month older than me — demonstrated significant progress and proved himself as a reliable tank. He was the third or fourth replacement off-tank.
So why only forty-seven? That’s how many Estel sets we could muster up. There was no point in taking players without such equipment. As soon as they entered the Endless Paths, they turned into cannon fodder. The Watchers had already passed that stage; the current raid was number thirteen.
“This armor makes me uncomfortable,” Flame whispered to me. “As if I were naked.”
“Why?”
“It’s a PvE set. Have you seen its affixes?”
That was true. Any PvP-focused player with requisite gems and some expertise would have an edge against a wielder of an Estel set. I could bet that many Watchers were shivering with cold, having lost their usual abilities. All they could rely on was their own skill; after all, it meant more than any gear or high level, Balian used to say during training, kicking us around. Back then, I had hated him for that, but at the moment, I felt grateful.
We had to transfer twice, first teleporting from the castle to Golden Fairs, and then to Hayvin, the capital of the eponymous kingdom. Hayvin somewhat reminded me of Eyre: the same medieval stone city surrounded by battlements. However, it was much colder, and the streets were busy with various non-humans, mostly orcs. Black banners emblazoned with a five-pointed white crown fluttered on the towers, ruffled by the icy wind, and the citizens greeted each other with the Lady’s sign, raising five outspread fingers. Hayvin was the domain of the House of Darkness, one of the first NPC kingdoms conquered by Ananizarte.
It was in the northeast of the continent on the other end of Dorsa. I had never been so far away before. The raid got off the ground — the rest of our journey would be spent on the back of birdies. As I sat in the second saddle of Alex’s roc, I admired the glorious view below us.
In the north, giant mountains gleamed white with snow, so close and even more magnificent than the Northern Belt skirting the border of Eyre. In the distance, among the foothills shrouded in foggy haze, I spied a flashing red light and focused my eyes on it. It was a tower, a colossal black monstrosity resembling a grotesque hand that crawled out from the depths of the earth. It held a pulsating scarlet piece in its fingers. A crystal? A flame? It was too far away to be sure.
“Stop looking!” Alex yelled over the wind. “Don’t look there!”
“What’s that?”
“The Claw Tower, Ananizarte’s stronghold! Don’t look there. Things happen!”
After saying that mysterious tirade, AlexOrder concentrated on controlling the birdie. So what kind of things had happened? Out of interest, I opened the Atlas, marking our route. Wow, we were in the very heart of our enemies’ territory! In the north, there were the lands of the factions that waged war against Eyre — the orc kingdoms of the Snake Peninsula. They had long since been brought under the Lady’s heel. The map was riddled with unfamiliar names: Irth-Garth, undermountain castle of Lliorkh, Khash-Khor, Sapphire Islands. Images, links to text. Lulled by the flight, I didn’t notice as I grew absorbed into reading.
The Snake Peninsula is situated in the northeast of Dorsa and is the northernmost end of the continent. Its rugged coast is broken by numerous fiords, bays, and skerries, and its shape resembles a snake...
“HotCat! Did you fall asleep? We’ve arrived!”
I closed the encyclopedia describing the geographical and cultural features of the Snake Peninsula, unfastened the roc’s harness, and jumped down — first on its fluttering wing, then on the ground. I looked around. We were in a snowy ravine that looked a lot like the place where I had once found my sword.
Above us hung a sheer rocky wall, turning into a weirdly shaped cliff. On its top, at an unimaginable height, surrounded by ice ridges, we could see the jagged outline of a clan castle built from dull black stone. Upon a closer examination, the cliff itself was carved into the shape of a malevolent horned demon, the snowy slopes its spread wings. The castle was the crown on its terrifying visage. Was that sight man-made or natural? In any case, it looked impressive.
“Weeping Devil,” someone nearby said with a hoarse voice. “The castle of PROJECT HELL.”
So that’s where they dwelled. Good to know. A grim place, even if the view was nice. Still, too cold for my taste. The raid shifted, and we marched forward. In the solid rock of the cliff, I saw a small crack that cleaved the rock downward. It looked wide enough for only one person. Was that the gate to the famous Helt Akor?
Chapter 19
The raid was in no hurry to go inside. Two scouts carefully entered the vertical rift, the second pausing after the first.
“There might be an ambush,” Alex said quietly. “PKers often camp inside entrances, especially Helt Ak
or.”
“But this is PROJECT territory.”
“What’s stopping them from tipping them off and not interfering? We’re in full view of the castle crystal.”
However, there was no ambush. We formed a line and went into the crevice, one by one. After climbing through the narrow split that could only fit one body at a time, I felt damp underground air. Torches flashed, dispelling the darkness around us, and a bluish sphere radiating bright light like a powerful object shot upward: one of the wizards had cast Firefly.
We were standing in a long narrow cave, its ceiling and floor covered with stalactites and stalagmites. Between them lay a clearly well-trodden path that could only be traversed by walking in a line.
My sword twitched inside the sheath, giving me a forceful push. It was the Star Metal Wrath, informing me that someone invisible had come into the thirty-feet radius. A dark figure moved on the entrance canopy, coming out of stealth. The raid reacted immediately, pretty much flawlessly. I couldn’t help but admire the lightning-fast actions of my clanmates.
“Hey, take it easy, Watchers!” The discovered man slowly raised his hands, pushed against the wall by the tips of numerous weapons. Spears, swords, and arrows glimmered an inch away from his body, not letting him move.
“Calm down, no sudden movements, or you might cut yourself!”
Komtur commanded them to lower their weapons. The invisible man was from PROJECT HELL and couldn’t be harmed. He was tall, limber, wore leather armor, and was wrapped in some dark rags. Illith, my old friend! I remembered him back from the fight with Liberty, when that bastard had taken out half of the academy.
“What are you doing here? Spying on us?” Komtur asked sharply.
“You use such words... This is actually our territory, or have you forgotten? I make sure that none other than Watchers enter. You’re the only ones with carebear sanction!”
He laughed out in a mocking manner and invitingly gestured at the depths of the cave.
Komtur: Ignore the clowns. Follow me.
The cave turned out to be long and twisting like a drunk snake. The perfect place for an ambush. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that it was the source of PROJECT fighters’ superefficient kill rating as they lay in wait for hapless raiders who attempted to farm the Endless Paths.
At last, we stopped, and the sphere above us illuminated a translucent blue veil blocking the mouth of the river. Behind it, in a murky haze, like a water-covered glass, we could see the beginning of a colossal staircase, its giant steps going down.
“We’re here. It’s the entrance to Helt Akor,” Alex said with a cough.
Abbot: Get ready. Form up. Buff, drink elixirs according to raid scheme. Ready in three.
* * *
Illith: They’re standing by the entrance, buffing up. Forty-seven men. Farming gear.
Tao: Good. Watch them.
Illith: Only from a distance. They’ve made me.
Tao: You’re such a bonehead. Do the Watchers have True Sight?
Illith: Nope, just some stealth-dispelling shit. Looks like an artifact, but short-range.
Tao: Don’t get close. Shadow them.
* * *
YOU’RE LEAVING THE WORLD OF DORSA!
YOU’RE ENTERING THE ENDLESS PATHS OF HELT AKOR.
ATTENTION: IN THIS AREA, SPELL EFFECTS, ARCHETYPES, AND CHARACTER ABILITIES CAN BEHAVE UNPREDICTABLY.
We were climbing the staircase carved inside a giant well. Its depths radiated dim crimson light, and shadows flickered on the roughly-cut stone walls. The staircase went down in endless spiral loops, leading to the source of light, deep enough so I couldn’t make out the bottom. The stairs were clumsily cut from stone by some giant: three feet tall, two feet wide, they clearly weren’t intended for short human legs.
“These stairs lead through several layers,” AlexOrder explained. “But the exits are all random. You never know where you might come out.”
The raid moved in a battle formation. Three scouts carrying out recon walked in front of the group, followed by its core: heavily-armored tanks, warriors, archers, mages, and buffers. Then came the rear guard: two heavily-armed fighters and a scout far behind us. As the most useless member of the raid, in Abbot’s opinion, I took a position in the healer protection squad commanded by Damian. Our task was to guard our healers with our lives.
After going down ten flights, we saw a irregular-shaped breach in the wall covered with a translucent instance screen. Two scouts went in, followed by the command for everyone to enter.
We found ourselves in a huge stone grotto with numerous odd stalactites. The opposite wall, like a giant wheel of cheese, was riddled with dozens of passageways that were currently checked by our scouts.
Abel: Got it. There’s a spot behind the tunnels. Large anomaly, lots of signals inside. Checking...
Inker: Strange signals. They’ve moving slowly, one of them is big, probably the boss.
But as soon as we made a few steps, passing under a pile of overhung dripstones, something strange occurred. The ceiling of the cave moved and swelled in a cloud of ink-black darkness that rapidly grew in size. Before my eyes, black blobs detached from the cloud and started falling right on our heads, releasing clusters of tentacles.
Abbot: Fall back, everyone! Defensive formation! What the (censored)?!
Darkness swept everything around us in just a few heartbeats. Blinded, all we could hear were screams of attacked players. HP bars of ten fighters in the raid interface dropped down at once. They got hit with a strange debuff called “Awe”. It prevented them from moving for ten seconds.
Olaf: Shadow Mantas! Fire, everburning light, silver!
Fortunately, the initial surge of panic was nipped in the bud by the precise orders of the raid leader. Everburning torches lit up, dispelling the aura of magical darkness. The majority of the raid had successfully escaped the zone of impact and were huddled behind raised shields. The creatures descending on us from above were met with fireballs and flaming arrows. The shadow mantas, as Olaf had called them, didn’t have a lot of hit points and dropped after one or two hits. Those unlucky enough to be grabbed by them screamed in horror, as the mantas landed right on their heads and latched on them, wrapping them with their tentacles. Then they activated Absorption, rapidly draining the life force of their blinded victims. Fortunately, it was possible to tear them away with outside help and finish them off. Physical damage didn’t work well against mantas, unlike magic. They were clearly somewhat spectral.
Ten minutes later, the fight was over. The torrent of descending monsters had waned, and the black blobs were strewn around the stone floor. I kicked one of them with the tip of my boot. It was an unmoving headless octopus about the size of a small dog, oozing black sticky sludge. Curiosity made me check the loot: Drop of Dark Ecloplasm, Shadow Manta Tentacles, Shadow Manta Eyes, and other entrails, obvious alchemical ingredients marked as blue, meaning rare. I quickly opened the Bazaar tab, made calculations... That wasn’t bad at all! One manta dropped loot worth fifty gold, and we had just killed several dozens of them. No wonder Olaf looked so happy as he collected everything. I had recently learned that he was a master alchemist; even one of his archetypes was apparently tied to this profession.
Komtur: Scouts, what the hell? How have you missed a whole room of that crap?
Inker: It was clear when we passed it...
Abbot: Peace, it’s all right. We’ve healed the raid. The scouts aren’t at fault, look at the bestiary description. The mantas are invisible and don’t aggro at invisible characters.
Abbot: All right, moving on. At least we’ve warmed up. What spot is there?
Abel: It’s big. A hundred and half signals, all elemental. Here’s an image; try to identify it. We’re in stealth on the edge.
He sent a picture of a huge cave illuminated by a faint greenish light. Most likely, that was the moss that blanketed the walls, the floor, and the many ledges. There were several hot springs around the area, and the
center was filled by an entire lake of an amazing emerald color. Strange creatures slowly moved through the hazy mist of the cave: luminescent globes, blue, green, and red, as if woven from translucent light.
Abbot: Looks like an Elemental Nest.
Olaf: No. It’s a big-sized Elemental Plane. Will we go for it?
Abbot: Looks tasty. Let’s go. I hope no one forgot ghost traps.
Going by the conversation between our leaders and the subsequent reading of our tactics, we had stumbled on a big instance, one of the random dungeons materializing in the Endless Paths. We were to combat elemental spirits, while the lake contained the boss — a djinn or a marut, an extremely dangerous being. However, Abbot hoped that the instance wouldn’t pose a big problem. In the classification of random Helt Akor anomalies, the Elemental Place was considered a walk in a park.
The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series Page 26