The Luckless: A MMORPG and LitRPG Online Adventure (Second Age of Retha Book 1)

by A. M. Sohma

Curious, Miles peered over the side of the roof.

  White Lady—the guildmistress of The Silver Army, the largest raid guild on the American servers—stood in the street. She wore her usual kind smile and silken summoner robes. White flowers were plaited into her dark hair, and they glowed in the rising moonlight as her fellow guild members fidgeted before her.

  “Yes,” a male elf said. “There was a player who claimed to have knowledge about the state of the game in the Guildhall. She said she had been in contact with an EC employee.”

  White Lady tucked her ink black hair behind her tapered elf ears. “When did this happen?”

  “A day ago in game time.”

  “I assume you must not have believed her claim, or you would have brought the matter before me sooner?”

  “Indeed. She was a lower-level character—not even to level ten yet—and no one knew her well enough to vouch for her.”

  Miles’ interest dwindled, and he climbed the apex of the roof once more. Half the city was filled with players who claimed they knew what was really going on. He was not interested in the ramblings of another greenhorn player who had nothing to back up her word.

  “But?” White Lady asked.

  Her minion continued, “She claimed she had a different main character and had once been a member of a guild called Milk Crown.”

  Miles froze. Milk Crown. No one had spoken of that guild in years, even though its name had been synonymous with greatness before Miles had begun playing Chronicles of Retha.

  He drifted back to the edge of the roof, his attention hinged on White Lady and her guild members.

  White Lady’s posture straightened. “Milk Crown? Did she say her character name?”

  “She did, but I’m afraid I do not remember it.” The elf hung his head.

  White Lady placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. I can speak to her myself. Where is she now?”

  “She left the Guildhall rather quickly, for several other players were quite brusque with her.”

  “What is her name? I will send her a PM.”

  “I can look through my logs and see if I still have it. I’m sorry, Guildmistress. I have failed you.”

  “You couldn’t have known. Milk Crown has been gone so long, not many remember it. Come. Let us go inside, and you may tell me more.”

  Miles stood on the roof many minutes after the Silver Army guildmistress and guildmember retreated indoors.

  A member of Milk Crown had returned to Retha.

  I have to find her.

  8

  Combat Training Required

  Kit flicked both of her fans open and twirled. Though she performed her dance flawlessly, she kept her gaze on the swirling battle that surrounded her.

  “I gotta give it to you.” Axel grunted and struck out at a nether wolf—a fiendish, large wolf that was the size of a pony and had red eyes and bigger teeth than a regular wolf. “Your character might be wussy as all get out, but I can tell that your little dance does actually add to my attack and defense power.”

  “Indeed,” Gil echoed as he stepped between one of the wolves and Vic, drawing its attention away from the wizard. “I know you are quite frustrated with your character, Miss Kit, but I must say even I can tell that you’ve been leveling up as your dance has grown in potency.”

  “Thanks,” Kit said. “But I feel like an idiot for prancing through the battlefield while everyone else actually does something to contribute to the fight.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Axel attack a nether wolf, unheedful of the wolf cub that bit at his legs as he fought its parents.

  He bleeds health points like its mana.

  “Kit, could you come a little closer? I’m out of your range, and I want that physical defense buff,” Riko called.

  Kit grimaced at her mistake and, against her instinct, plunged deeper into the battle. Azarel, her previous character, was a damage dealer who always stood at the back of the party for safety reasons. It had given her a propensity to lurk at the outskirts of any fight, and she hadn’t managed to break that habit yet.

  She glanced around and saw Cookie lingering in Vic’s shadow, attacking any beast that drew near to her. “Cookie, could you help Axel?”

  “Okay!”

  “Don’t worry about your skills, Kit. Your dances will be more helpful as you grow higher leveled,” Riko said. She pointed at a nether wolf and shouted, “Nature’s Bindings!” Vines shot out of the ground and wrapped around the animal, pulling it to the dirt.

  “They may grow more helpful,” Prowl corrected as he moved to help Gil—who had used his taunt skill and attracted too many wolves for him to handle. “It depends how the game reacts to the way she plays. If they give her the party build, she’ll be worth something, but if they give her the soloing build...”

  “Fireball!” Vic chucked a soccer ball-sized glob of flames at a wolf. When the creature started chasing her, she fled. She scrambled through the battlefield, stopping only when Prowl threw a dagger at the wolf, killing it. “What do you mean by a soloing build?” she asked.

  “All classes have various builds available to them.” Kit said with another flourish of her fans. “The style they get depends on the way they play, as Retha itself will react to your playing style and give you skills that match it. For example, you can have speed-based knights or strength-based knights. The speed knights move much faster, but the strength knights hit harder—though they take much longer to cast their skills.” She spun, then leaped into the air. After landing, she glanced at her party display—which showed everyone’s health bars and statuses, to confirm that her dance was affecting everyone. We have to be careful. Even with Prowl and Riko adding greatly to our attack power, with an entire pack of nether wolves attacking us, things could go downhill fast. Not to mention Vic was still understandably prone to newbie mistakes—like running when a creature started chasing her—and their party’s teamwork was pretty shotty.

  “Support character builds, however, tend to be extremely different,” she continued. “The most favored dancer build is meant for party playing. That dancer does an excellent job of buffing her party and of adding status ailments and de-buffs to enemies. However, there is another dancer build that is meant to be a solo runner—which means they are supposedly capable of fighting alone. However, dancers are, at their hearts, a support class; so, though the soloing build has several damage-based attacks, they’re pretty awful compared to melee and mage classes, and due to those damage attacks, their support skills aren’t leveled as high, so they’re not very good for support roles either.”

  “I think I’m starting to understand.” Vic nonchalantly finished off a wolf with her Bubble Barrage skill. Another almost jumped her from behind, but Gil smashed its head with his shield, and it fell like a rock. “What it basically means is that EC can be downright cruel and force your character to be something you don’t want it to be.”

  “Absolutely,” Kit said.

  Riko laughed. “Not really. Kit is a little jaded right now—not that I blame her—but EC uses advanced algorithms to determine how it can best improve your playing experience. As the game changes and people change the way they play, the builds change with it. For instance, back in the beginning of the game, there was a dancer build that was made specifically for giant raid parties. The build isn’t around because players don’t often play in huge raid groups anymore and now tend to play in smaller party groups of six to twelve players. Oop.” Riko, who could one- or two-shot the wolves thanks to her far higher level, used her vine attack and grabbed a wolf that had been stalking Kit.

  “With the amount I use Battle March, I’m fairly confident Retha will give me the stereotypical party build.” Kit snapped her fans and elegantly twirled them as she kept on dancing.

  “It doesn’t just depend on the skills you use,” Prowl grunted as he jumped a wolf. “The game also takes into account the armor point bonuses you prefer and divvies your points into appropriate stats.”

  V
ic started tracing the sign for her Bubble Barrage skill, then paused. “Stats?”

  Riko, using Nature’s Bindings, dragged a wolf across the ground like a child dragging a toy behind them. “Agility, intelligence, dexterity, vitality—that sort of thing. Almost all armor has stat bonuses. If you usually go for armor with agility points, the next time you level the game will put points into agility. As a wizard, you should be doing everything you can to pump up your intelligence.”

  “So the game decides what sort of build you should have based on what you wear?” Vic snorted.

  “It’s only one part of the algorithm.” Kit snaked her way behind Gil—who was tangling with a half-dead nether wolf. “You can also visit training grounds to specifically target a stat—that helps the game recalibrate to what you want if your stats aren’t going the way you like. Also, each class build has a secret skill you can forcibly learn—either through questing or visiting class trainers and being told how—which will help the algorithms re-target your build.”

  She frowned when she noticed Axel had drifted out of range of her dance while chasing a wolf. She moved towards him, hoping he wouldn’t go much farther or he would cut himself off from the rest of the group, then continued. “And if the game has really screwed up there is also a potion you can take to reset your points—though it’s super expensive, can only be used once per account, and costs real life money.” Kit twirled on one foot and popped the other up behind her for balance. She roared when a nether wolf grabbed her by her extended leg and sank its fangs deep into her muscles. The attack dropped her health bar by twenty percent of its points, but it also interrupted her dance—canceling out the attack and defense buffs the skill gave.

  “Son of a motherless goat!” Kit swore as she hopped next to the wolf. Its spit was caustic and started to burn her skin—further eating away at her health.

  “That is physically impossible,” Vic said.

  Cookie slung a dagger at the wolf that still held Kit by her leg, nailing the creature in the flank. It didn’t even turn to look at her. “See, Kit? Your dance does make a difference! When you had it up a minute ago, I was doing much more damage,” the night stalker said.

  “That’s great,” Kit said through gritted teeth. “I’m super glad to hear that. But can we do something about the wolf attached to my leg?”

  “Cry of Challenge!” Gil shoved his shield in front of him in a taunt skill. The wolf ignored him.

  Kit glared angrily at her paper fans. Everyone, besides Prowl and Riko, had leveled as they continued to make their way through the Aridus Plains and journeyed to the White Needles mountain range. Unfortunately, unlike everyone else who had leveled, Kit hadn’t received any new class skills—though Battlefield March improved with each level she got. “What idiot decided I couldn’t even have a basic attack, like stomp?”

  Her health bar continued to inch down, so Kit grabbed Axel’s scabbard, which he had flung aside as soon as the fight had started, and smashed it down on the nether wolf’s head. She hit it with enough force that it let go of her and staggered a bit.

  A trumpet chord blew around Kit, and a few sparks crackled near her head.

  Congratulations! You have learned the life skill: Violent Outburst

  Your overly-aggressive temperament can be funneled into a physical attack.

  Kit was torn between irritation and glee. After all, she finally had an attack skill! But she could have done without the criticism of her personality.

  The wolf she had attacked growled, snapping Kit out of her thoughts. A glance at its health bar confirmed that her new skill hadn’t done much damage to it. Kit backed up slowly, but the wolf pressed closer to her, flashing its fangs that were red with her blood.

  “Kit, fallback to me,” Prowl shouted. Kit needed no further encouragement and turned on her heels and ran back to the saboteur. She wove around Gil and Vic—the wizard was once again fleeing a nether wolf, and Gil was chasing after them while trying to simultaneously cast a taunt—then skid several feet so she could stop directly next to Prowl, who was crouching on the ground.

  The wolf wasn’t far behind her. It launched itself into the air and snarled, but when it landed, a steel trap clamped around its leg. The wolf howled, and Prowl threw a fistful of red colored grit at the creature.

  “Pepper grit,” he said when Kit glanced curiously at him.

  The pepper grit and the steel trap ate away at the wolf’s health, but Prowl finished him off with a dagger to the throat.

  “I forgot how slick traps work in this game,” Kit said.

  Prowl dusted his palms off. “Traps are easier to use on some enemies than others.”

  Kit eyed the party screen again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Prowl pointed at the chaotic fight. “You should tell them what to do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re the party leader?”

  Kit winced. She still hadn’t managed to pawn off the role—which was a shame as she was not skilled at it and it was likely the group would suffer as a result. She cleared her throat and shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. “Everyone pull back and gather close. We need to hit them with one strong strike to run them off—or they’re going to bleed us dry of mana shortly. I want us to funnel them to Riko, who can hit them with her Earthen Pit skill.”

  “Got it,” Cookie said. She and Axel finished their targets, then joined Gil and Vic. “Vic, bestie! Have you missed me?”

  “Like a gangrene-infested wound,” Vic said

  Kit stuck next to Prowl as they slowly rejoined the group. The saboteur planted traps behind them, catching the wolves that attempted to stalk them.

  “Ready, Riko?” Kit called.

  The druid waved from across the fight. “I’ve got the spell loaded!”

  “Great. I’ll start my dance. Once the buffs settle, I’ll give a signal, then everyone strike the wolves with any attack that pushes the target backwards.”

  Gil was shoved back several inches when a wolf rammed headfirst into his shield, and Prowl tossed out traps and poison-coated needles. “Hurry up, would you?” the saboteur asked.

  Kit was already starting to twirl, flicking her fans and artfully slicing them through the air. As soon as the buffs symbols popped up by everyone’s names, she shouted, “Now!”

  “Gut Buster!” Axel shouted.

  “Bubble Barrage!”

  “Hammer Strike!”

  Cookie and Prowl were the only two fighters who hit the wolves without skills and instead attacked with daggers—Cookie because most of her skills involved shadows and striking from behind, and Prowl because he didn’t have any physical attacks that would push the wolves back.

  A number of the nether wolves were sent sprawling backwards. Standing alone, Riko shouted, “Earthen Pit!”

  The ground beneath the wolves cracked, and the dark canines fell into an open chasm.

  Several of the wolves managed to avoid the attack. Prowl drop-kicked one in the face, sending it sprawling backwards and straight into the pit, but at least four other wolves fled, loping away with snarls.

  Vic immediately sat down—which helped replenish her mana points faster. “I thought fighting would grow less stressful as I got used to it. So far I’ve been wrong.”

  “It’s extra stressful because we’re fighting stuff so much higher than us,” Cookie said. “Those wolves were level thirteen—they were on level for Axel and Gil, and they’re only one level above me which isn’t so bad, but you and Kit are still only level eleven.”

  “Fighting a monster above your level really makes it that much harder?” Vic asked.

  “Yep,” Kit affirmed. She was only half listening as she was stuck sifting through the list of drops the party had received as the defunct party leader.

  “I know you’re not a gamer,” Axel said. “But wouldn’t it logically make sense that a higher-level monster is harder to kill?”

  “I don’t want to hear that coming from you, Mr. Man-Bun.�
��

  “Leave my hair out of this!”

  “It’s only going to get worse, I’m afraid,” Riko said. “Most of the monsters in the White Needles Mountains are between levels fifteen and twenty-eight.”

  “We’ll have to be more careful and try to avoid as many fights as possible,” Prowl said.

  “Thankfully, that’s something I happen to be extremely skilled in,” Kit said.

  “True. You have been forced to evade just about everyone,” Gil said.

  “No, I wasn’t talking about being a dancer—although you’re right and this has only added to my experience. It’s because my previous character class was about as fragile as a glass Christmas ornament. Even if she was ten levels higher than an opponent, she could be slaughtered easily, so I always had to place myself as far away from the battle as possible.”

  “What’s the point of playing with such a fragile character?” Vic asked.

  “The trade-off was her incredible magical attack power. But I could never wander in an area alone or solo things unless I was ridiculously over-leveled.” Kit frowned slightly as she reviewed their drops. They hadn’t received anything particularly useful, but everything could be sold for money—which they continued to badly need.

  “Echoes were—and still are—over-powered,” Prowl said.

  “Maybe, but they’re so hard to use, no one bothers much with them anymore,” Riko added.

  Axel reclaimed his scabbard and sheathed his ridiculously giant sword. “Magic classes always bail out when the road gets rough.”

  Riko ignored the insult and adjusted the hood of her druid robes. “That’s another class that was abandoned when small parties began to be more popular.”

  Axel looked speculatively at Kit. “It seems you’re into unpopular classes.”

  “They weren’t unpopular five years ago, but I guess things have changed since then.” Kit shoved aside the flicker of sadness that tugged on her heart, finished sorting the drops, and flicked the screen away. “Is everyone good? Are we ready to move on?”