He used the proceeds to heal himself and also to apply fresh dye to his outfit. The off-white cream of his current armor tended to stand out here, so he had it infused with arrowroot resin. The resultant ash-green color would make him difficult to pick out in the many shadows of the city.
Keeping Lee in his field of vision, Nick wandered off to explore the area. A dwarf blacksmith ran an impressive forge in far corner of the market. Nick gazed lovingly at the gleaming shields and plate armor, yearning for the feeling of absolute protection they conferred.
“You really are homesick, aren’t you?” Lee said behind him. She proudly showed him her scimitars. One glowed orange, the other purple.
“This one has residual deep heat damage,” she said. “The purple one does mana damage. Fucking insane, right?”
Nick had to smile. Lee had become a quintessential Corsair build. Strong enough to wear medium armor and wield heavy weapons, light enough for DEX and STA to still be a factor. The type of disciplined, sensible build that Nick somehow never attained. The truth was he liked to focus on an attribute and drown himself in it. He wanted more. To outclass everyone in a particular attribute. He wondered if that indulgence would lead to his eventual downfall.
“Let’s head south,” Lee suggested. “I found out the Cathedral Quarter is down that way.”
The pair pushed their way through the bartering city folk, wary of the street urchins that darted under their feet. Gallana Boulevard was the main artery of the city. Lined with towering cypress trees, it was in a constant state of flux due to the steady stream of traffic from the south. Stately guild halls loomed to either side. In the space of ten minutes Nick passed the Adventurer’s Guild, the Sun Knight Guild, the Thrasher’s Guild, the Yeoman Guild. He was amazed at their sheer number.
“I feel exposed out here,” Lee said with a frown.
Groups of tattooed mercenaries stood outside the guild halls, several of them appraising the pair with cold eyes. Nick even saw a few gamertags and wondered how the other contestants were progressing. Then he thought of SnowmanCometh. Lee was right - it was foolish to spend so much time out here on the boulevard.
He took her by the elbow and guided her down a side alley.
“We can reach the cathedral through the back streets,” he explained.
The ‘back streets’ were more like a maze of serpentine alleys, but by ensuring the sun remained behind them they maintained an easterly direction. Life back here was light years away from the pomp of the boulevard. Creatures of all kinds hung their washing out and dumped refuse straight onto the cobblestones. Nick resisted the impulse to gag as the smell thickened.
The pair were eventually confronted with a bronze statue depicting a slight, hooded figure. The pool at the base of the sculpture contained thousands of silver coins.
“Offerings to the Dead Thief,” came a sonorous voice behind them. “Most folks around here are more than happy to sacrifice their last silver for peace of mind.”
Nick and Lee were surrounded by half a dozen black-cowled men. All Nick could see of the leader’s face was a finely sculptured beard. He quick-equipped his katana but Lee gripped his arm.
“Too many,” she said. “Besides, if they wanted to attack, we’d be dead.”
“Smart girl,” said the cowled figure. “My name’s Lazar. Head of the Shadow Guild.”
“What do you want with us?” Nick asked.
Lazar looked around theatrically.
“My dear boy, I do believe you came to us,” he said smoothly. “This is my domain.”
“Why aren’t you out on the Boulevard with the other Guilds?” Lee asked suspiciously.
“This one doesn’t miss much, does she?” Lazar said, grinning at Nick. “No, by its very nature the Shadow Guild tends to shun the spotlight. We prefer it that way.”
The thugs parted to allow Nick and Lee through.
“Please,” Lazar said. “Allow us to escort you through. As a courtesy.”
Lee threw a glance at Nick as they headed under an archway into a dark alley. Nick didn’t trust this “Lazar”, but there wasn’t much they could do right now.
“You seem familiar to me,” Lee said conversationally as they passed into a stone passage. Lazar’s eyes shone with delight. He looked like he wanted to pounce on her.
“My real name is Johnny Heidelberg,” he said. “In a former life I was an Oakshield runner.”
“You’re too modest,” Lee said. “A three-time champion, if I remember correctly.”
“You know your lore,” Lazar replied. “The Syndicate offered me a regular spot as head of the Shadow Guild. As you can see, I’ve never looked back. Good pay, undemanding tasks, frequent shore leave. The perfect job!”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Lee said. “I had your poster on my wall. What was that line …”
“’Feed my blade, shitbag’,” came the instant reply. Lazar looked like an excitable puppy, which made Lee laugh.
“The best,” she said with genuine warmth.
Nick and Lee were now standing in a dim hall set with round tables. Nick got a strong whiff of strong, aromatic coffee. A dozen cowled figures stood on a mezzanine level, watching the new arrivals with interest.
“The Shadow Guild,” Lazar said proudly. “It’s not much, but its home.”
“What does your Guild do?” Nick asked.
Lazar’s face darkened.
“We used to take particular … contracts,” he said wistfully. “until the Assassin’s Guild muscled us out. Now we just handle the underground economy.”
Laughter rippled around the hall. Nick had a very bad feeling about all this.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to,” Lazar said. “Please, make yourselves at home before continuing on your way.”
The thief’s eyes lingered on Lee’s lithe curves.
“Perhaps you’d like to see my weapon cabinet? It’ll only take a minute. I have curved swords from all six continents.”
“I’d be happy to,” Lee said with a smile.
Irritated by her behavior, Nick leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“What the fuck are you doing? They’re trying to separate us.”
“They could’ve killed us at any time,” Lee retorted. “I’m buying us time. Stop being such a fucking jerk.”
“This is bullshit, Lee,” Nick said. “I’ve never seen a more obvious trap.”
“Then you what do you suggest, genius?”
Nick paused. He hated fighting with Lee like this. Not only did it hurt him, it was unprofessional. His Love points had stopped ticking over, but the Hate points were rolling in.
“That we stay together, for a start,” Nick said. “If these guys attack, then we fight. Back-to-back, like it should be.”
The look in Lee’s eyes chilled Nick to the bone. It wasn’t anger or sadness - it was doubt. She was weighting the sum total of their abilities and coming up short. And guess who the weak link was? The reality of his current build hit Nick in the face like a sledgehammer. He was a mediocre duelist.
As a Ranger he’d been able to survive the Lavora High Temple. Lee had helped him through the more difficult challenges of the Hammerhorst Mountains. But here, in Ashk, where the predominant thug was sly and slippery, he was vulnerable. For the first time in his gaming life, his skills were in doubt. Heart-broken, Nick bowed his head.
“I’m sorry, Nick,” she said. “At the moment you don’t know what you are.”
Nick suddenly felt self-conscious about the shield alongside his katana. The slab of metal was a comforting reminder of another build. An echo of the past. Maybe Lee was right, which was humiliating. And where did he go from here?
“I’ll be upstairs when you’re ready,” Lazar said before disappearing. The rest of his thugs did their best impression of looking busy.
“I’m a liability,” Nick admitted. “I’ve risked your life twice since we arrived in Ashk. I’d never forgive myself if you died because of me.”
>
“Nick, no, I -”
But it was too late. Realizing he was terrified of their Bond, Nick entered his profile screen and severed it. Pale with shock, Lee looked at him plaintively.
“That’s it, then?” she said in a small voice. Nick just wanted to wrap her in his arms. But he couldn’t. Not here.
“Go,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you at the cathedral.”
Lee nodded. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Nick.”
She left him in the Guild hall. He didn’t have any fears for her safety - she was far better off on her own right now. But Nick’s heart was a lead weight as he watched her disappear into a side passage. What had he done? The right thing. The weight of everything was crushing him. He didn’t feel like a gamer - more like a pretender.
“I’m looking for Bishop Haam,” he said to no one in particular.
“You need an exorcism or summin’, kid?” someone asked from the gloom.
“You’d do well to avoid Haam,” said an older thief with strange tattoos on his face. “He’s a law unto himself.”
The veteran stood close to Nick, too close for comfort.
“Stand aside,” Nick said through clenched teeth. His frustration was fast becoming something more violent.
“Oh no,” said the thief with an amiable smile. “The only way out is through the pits.”
“The pits …?”
Nick was about to draw his katana when there was an explosion of pain at the back of his head and everything went black.
He woke with a throbbing headache. He was sitting in a cage with no room to stand. Other cages lined the walls like honeycomb. Most were empty, but some held naked, cramped prisoners. Nick realized he was naked too - all his possessions had been taken away. His katana. Armor set. Money.
Cursing under his breath, he tried not to panic. After all, Oakshield Junction was designed like every other game he’d played. There should be a way out of every situation. Nick just needed to draw on his long experience and soak up the details of this prison. It was large, humid and sweaty. Every now and then a guard dragged one of the prisoners through a doorway, through which came the unmistakable roar of a crowd.
Nick cast his mind back to what Lazar had said - the Guild of Shadows looked after the city’s ‘underground economy’. Fighting pits. Had to be. Lazar had drafted Nick into his fighter pool and would presumably take his winnings, if any. Worse, Nick didn’t have much experience with bare-knuckle fighting. Dexers preferred to use swords and daggers, whilst his preferred strength builds were axe/shield setups.
The best bare-knuckle fighters had high strength stats - dexterity was an afterthought. How the hell was he going to survive this? He chuckled as he gripped the rusted bars and watched another prisoner enter the arena. It was either that or give in to abject despair.
Could things have gotten any worse? At least he was still alive. Where was Lee now? Had she been captured too? Hopefully she was well on her way to the Bishop’s cathedral. The thought of her winning the Ashk session made him smile - she deserved every accolade that came her way. But mooning over her wouldn’t achieve anything - the most pressing issue was finding a way out of this hellish fighting pit.
“You!” barked a voice from somewhere below him. “Time to die.”
The cages shook from the keys being inserted at ground level. Nick’s door swung open and he barely had time to stretch his painfully stiff limbs. A dull-eyed elf stood waiting below, his borta dancing with the light thrown by a nearby torch. Nick didn’t bother attacking him - even if he managed to kill the henchman, a dozen more would take his place.
The guard led him through a dank passage into the pit of an amphitheater. Nick blinked several times and tried to compose himself. The chamber was filled with sweaty onlookers. There were hundreds of glowing gamertags up there.
Nick struggled to comprehend how so many runners could be in the same location. But then it dawned on him - they weren’t runners, they were gamblers. Real people logging into Oakshield Junction to lay bets on who would be the Champion of Ashk. Another example of the Syndicate taking money from those who couldn’t afford it.
Nick was shoved into the middle of the arena and left there. A door at the far end admitted a hulking dwarf. The brute’s skin was a lattice of raised scars. He flexed his massive biceps as he approached Nick. Apart from his loincloth, the dwarf wore nothing but brass knuckles on both fists. Nick grimaced - that put him at a distinct disadvantage. How the fuck was he expected to compete against this guy? He’d been torn down from equipped, professional runner to lowly pit brawler in less than an hour.
The dwarf advanced quickly, allowing no time for plans or strategies. Nick rolled under the first swing, but took the next flush in the jaw. The crowd erupted with joy as he was sent flailing across the blood-spattered sand. His HP, already dismal, was now close to zero. The final strike came quicker than expected. The dwarf didn’t wait for Nick to get up, instead stomping his head viciously.
Everything was pain for several seconds, then Nick found himself slumped in his cage once again. He groaned, clutching at his throbbing temples. At least his HP was back to 50%, although to rejoice in that was a sure sign that his situation was rancid.
“You!” barked that familiar voice. “Don’t get too comfortable!”
The rotations through the brawler pit was intense as bare-knuckle duels typically lasted less than a minute. Once money had changed hands it was time for the next one. Nick was brawl meat, an exotic bet for fans of his previous heroics. His success as a strength build seemed worlds away from this utter humiliation. As he bumped his head on the jagged ceiling on the way to the arena, it was fair to say that Nick’s confidence had hit rock bottom.
To add insult to injury, Nick’s opponent was the same dwarf. The elf guard wore a malicious smile as he slammed the door. The crowd was ecstatic, baying for Nick’s blood with merciless glee. This felt like a recurring nightmare.
As the ripped dwarf loomed over him, Nick’s had a seed of inspiration. Yes, he was out-muscled. Yes, he was going to die. Again. But he would use each second in this arena to learn. Each drop of blood he lost would yield hard-earned wisdom. Lee had been right all along - it was time to fully embrace his DEX stats.
He had to be quicker and more agile than this hulking brute. Surely he could use that to his advantage. He didn’t need armor. He didn’t need a robe with buffed resistances. Wearing nothing but a loincloth was all a true dexer could want. They were the most courageous builds in RPG gaming. Nick decided to honor all the dexers he’d scorned in the past by wearing nothing for the rest of the session, come what may.
Liberated by his decision, he circled the advancing dwarf and laughed theatrically. The brawler frowned, unsure of himself. The circular arena was roughly two rolls in diameter and Nick intended to use every square inch of the available space. Sprinting hard, he tested his stamina bar. The dwarf lashed out with a forearm the size of a tree trunk, smashing Nick for 200HP.
Knowing he was destined to die again, Nick figured he may as well be as belligerent as he could. He vaulted onto the dwarf’s shoulder, much to the delight of the crowd. He felt amazingly light without armor to weigh him down. Seeing the glint of the dwarf’s knuckle ring, Nick’s nimble fingers lifted it clean from his adversary’s meaty hand.
The crowd roared their approval, spraying the arena with ale and worse. Chuckling with how much fun he was finally having, Nick tried to roll clear but misjudged his direction. The dwarf clipped him on the shoulder, draining his HP to zero. Nick was still laughing about his cheeky sleight of hand as he materialized in the cage again.
Amazingly, he was still holding the brass ring! The mechanics of the game must’ve allowed for inventory hard-saves whilst in the brawler pit. The allowance gave Nick a glimmer of hope. He equipped the brass knuckle lovingly. It was too big for him and a strength weapon to boot, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with it.
“You!” barked the elf
again. “Time to -”
“Not today, dickhead,” Nick said cheekily. The Love points began flowing again. He knelt at the cage door, hungry for battle. The guard noticed something different about him and maintained a safe distance.
The gamblers had worked themselves into a frenzy. Nick could tell that more money was changing hands now than in his first two duels. The practiced eyes out there must’ve noticed the glint in his eye. The dwarf emerged via his own passage and the third duel commenced.
Nick was constantly in motion this time, looking to time his rolls so his stamina wasn’t depleted. This was easier said than done, with the dwarf lashing out randomly, but he soon got the hang of it. Once the dwarf showed signs of frustration, Nick knew he was in with a chance.
The critical moment duly arrived. Egged on a restless crowd, the dwarf, who now only had one brass knuckle, committed to a power attack. It missed, and Nick was attacking the animation instantly. Using the brass knuckle, he unleashed a series kidney punches that extracted over 150HP. Not much in isolation, but he intended to repeat the dose again and again. Howling with rage, the dwarf renewed his lumbering gait, looking to trap Nick against the arena wall. Nick was too quick for him.
The dwarf missed a cross-swipe and Nick found himself behind the burly fighter. He tried a back-stab, not sure if it would work. His fist struck the base of the dwarf’s spine. It wasn’t as damaging as a bladed back-stab but it knocked the brawler over and allowed Nick to land a few kicks in. This is did with glee, draining the dwarf of another 300HP.
Two more attacks and the dwarf was done. Nick engineered the first through patient rolling, drawing his adversary into another errant power attack. The dwarf was more circumspect after that, realizing he was almost dead. In the end Nick took a dexer’s risk that paid off gloriously. He launched onto the dwarf’s shoulder and snapped his neck at right angles.
The move, which was only available to runners with an AGL score of 15 or more, killed the dwarf and sent the crowd into a frenzy. Soaking up the adulation, Nick bowed with a flourish. He was back. He’d found the true meaning of dexterity and would worship his new build like he never had before.
Dexterity Build: A LitRPG Saga (The Complete Dexterity Build Cycle) Page 13