Alpha Zero (Alpha LitRPG Book 1)

by Arthur Stone

  I couldn’t say that they were happy to see me, but they were in no hurry to hurl insults or throw punches. I was no longer just a mysterious stranger, but a valuable worker in the eyes of Ash. Messing with me was fraught with all kinds of problems.

  “Hello, fellas,” I extended a polite greeting, peering into Satat’s eyes—two oceans of poorly concealed hatred diluted with wariness.

  Before they had a chance to reply, I continued.

  “Care for some kote? This much,” I spread out my palms to indicate half an arm’s length. “If you do, come down in half an hour. If you help us carry our baskets to the inn, we’ll pay you in fish. If you don’t, I can find other helpers.”

  I turned around and headed back to Beko who was dressing our haul. We had to hurry, as he was putting the meat, scales, brains and liver on burdocks, which wasn’t very convenient.

  We urgently needed some better containers.

  Among many other things.

  Today’s haul amounted to ten kote. Each weighed between seven to fifteen pounds. Small by local standards, but still roughly one hundred pounds all together. Well beyond the carrying capacity of me and Beko. I had no doubt that the perpetually hungry Carps wouldn’t resist such a tempting offer.

  Granted, I could have enlisted more capable helpers, but why? Business relationships helped to elevate the level of tolerance, if not friendship. And whatever the future held, it would behoove me to have fewer enemies. Besides, these kids never caused me any harm, so there was no sense in carrying on this state of war. Sure, Beko had his own reasons to dislike them, but that was him. I had to think about myself first.

  As the ghoul dealt with the fish, I took a seat on the shore and began processing my personal trophies. Here, too, each individual catch yielded nothing of significance, but taken together, it looked pretty solid. ORDER had been continuing to dispense better prizes for using a rare fishing method. I assumed that this would continue until someone else discovered the art of the spoonbait.

  My list of acquisitions was impressive.

  Greater Symbol of Chi x10

  Greater Standard Talent Mark x10

  Greater Standard Universal State x10

  Lesser Symbol of Chi x59

  Lesser Attribute Mark, Agility x9

  Lesser Attribute Mark, Stamina x11

  Lesser Attribute Mark, Strength x8

  Standard Attribute Mark x9

  Talent Mark, Scent of Blood x6

  Talent Mark, Detect Poison x4

  Talent Mark, Detect Traps x5

  Lesser Standard Talent Mark x17

  Lesser Personal Talent Mark, Fishing Instinct x8

  I used the chi symbols straight away. The more of those I had in my reservoir, the more peace of mind I felt. And I shouldn’t forget about shadow chi. As the parameter grew, it would enable me to use Fishing Instinct with greater frequency.

  The total amount now surpassed four hundred, meaning I was nearly at the halfway point to filling the reservoir. That went a long way towards not stressing about my leakage of chi. At the current pace, I had amassed several months’ worth of living.

  For each fish caught with the spoonbait, the basket of ORDER’s prizes included one greater standard universal state. Each of those, in turn, added a quarter-point to the value of Equilibrium, which now exceeded five as a result. This meant I could now unlock not two attributes above the standard limit, but a whopping five.

  Unfortunately, the situation with the attributes themselves was far less stellar. My Stamina was at ninety-seven points, a measly three points short of one hundred, which would bring Stamina to level two. And then my currently inactive Agility would acquire its own, first level.

  I was a hair’s breadth away from obtaining three native attribute levels. This would be a significant milestone. A few more milestones like it and my life would no longer be tied to the inexorably discharging amulet.

  But level two Stamina would have to wait until tomorrow. All I could handle tonight was dinner followed by a furious bout of negotiations with the innkeeper and Old Shimi. I hadn’t dealt with the latter yet, but I knew he was the fort’s procurer of inexpensive spices.

  Kote brains may not be sizable, but you couldn’t say the same about their livers. We had accumulated five-six pounds of it already, and though neither Beko nor I lacked for appetite, the supply nonetheless far exceeded demand. Besides, it wouldn’t be healthy to choke on one food type, no matter how nutrient dense. Variety was also important.

  Perhaps I could trade Shimi some of our liver reserves for other spices. Our developing bodies could use a little bit of everything—even better, a lot of everything. And if the trade didn’t pan out, I’d swap the livers for some squares, and take those to the innkeeper. He had some spices for sale as well, so that would be my plan B.

  And if I had any money left over, I would pay a visit to Guppy the following morning, which was becoming a kind of tradition. A part of my morning routine. I planned on asking him about a possible alternative to wild leek in relation to cord making. If the kote were to start ignoring the shore again, I’d need a lighter tackle that could be cast further.

  I could also use a new spoonbait, one that was half the size of my current stock. I had observed an interesting phenomenon when smallish kote would notice the bait and follow it all the way to the shore, but wouldn’t bite. There were two possible explanations: either they suspected foul play, or the bait was too large for them. If the issue was indeed size, then solving it should drastically improve our success rate.

  Chapter 22

  Force Majeure

  No Stat Changes

  Morning greeted me with an unpleasant surprise. I had expected to wake up with four hundred twenty-two points of chi in my reservoir, or perhaps one point less. Instead, I was looking at four hundred nineteen.

  This confirmed the glimmer of suspicion that had been gnawing at me since yesterday. Either my chi was starting to leak at a faster pace, or the pace of leakage hinged on the quantity of the chi. In other words, the more chi I had, the stronger the pressure on the reservoir, resulting in greater losses.

  I wasn’t exactly one step from nullification, but the dynamic nature of the process was worrying. I decided not to use any chi symbols today. Plus, I had hoped to raise Agility and Stamina today, which would consume two hundred chi from my reservoir. I was curious to see if the sharp reduction would impact the pace of the leakage in any way.

  Guppy left me without a lion’s share of my hard-earned squares. Instead, I had availed myself of a wooden roller with thread that was hard and smooth to the touch. Less than a millimeter thick, it was crafted from the web of some tropical spider, the cosmic price reflecting its durability and resistance to tears. Moreover, it wasn’t affected by dampness, and its light color made it inconspicuous in water. The thread was often used for surgery, jewel-crafting, shoemaking and other industries, including fishing. Specifically, it was considered the finest material with which to make fishing line, thanks to properties that didn’t scare away the sea dwellers. Most didn’t notice it at all, thinking that the bait was floating on its own.

  In addition to the roller, I got a couple of thin strips of copper and bronze and then spent two hours fashioning one of them into a primitive gyrating contraption with bent corners facing the opposite ways. Back in my first childhood, I had watched my grandfather pull in plenty of bass and pike with it, though all my efforts had usually yielded just weeds, or worse, branches of trees overhanging the river. In short, I was utterly terrible at it.

  Then again, that river had been of middling fishing quality. Too much industry in the area, poor environmental conditions, and enough fishing enthusiasts to keep the supply of fish perpetually low. Granddad recalled better times, when none of those problems existed, and the pikes filling the river were large enough to scare away skinny-dippers, especially the male kind. And Blackriver had similar conditions, perhaps even better—at least for my purposes. I was set on redeeming my childhood fail
ures.

  I cracked a dry branch with a knife, then took one half and cut it into a winding board. Laying fishing line on it would certainly beat manually coiling it onto a small reel.

  Oh, but I wish I had a spinning reel... Even the crudest, most basic one would do. Perhaps I could even manage to craft one someday, in the distant future, having availed myself of the right materials and skill. But today, I knew perfectly well that I couldn’t create anything even remotely decent that wouldn’t fall apart after a few casts or survive a duel against a ten-pound kote.

  ORDER had rewarded all of my efforts with a personal talent mark, Novice Blacksmith. Evidently, it had finally caught on that the tackle had nothing to do with ornaments, so raising my Jeweler skill was an ill-fitting prize.

  It was impressive how quickly it adapted and learned. Of course, a nitpicker might point out that blacksmithing still had little to do with the work I had been engaged in.

  But I was content to let the matter rest. Another starting mark was a cause for joy, fair or not.

  * * *

  The fishing session began with a tangled cord. Thin as it was, I was unaccustomed to handling it. It took a lot of time—and even more effort to resist the temptation to cut it up into tiny little pieces.

  The first trouble was quickly followed by the next. Upon using my fishing instinct to pick out a fish that seemed to be behaving like a kote, though on a smaller end, I cast the line. Before too long and after a bit of resistance, I pulled the prey onto the beach.

  It was indeed small, barely over six-seven pounds. My tackle-changing tactic seemed to be working. Now, sure, smaller kote weren’t as lucrative as their larger brethren, but on the plus side, there were much more of them in the shallows, and they were easier to pull out. Case in point, I’d been able to drag this one out without even bothering with the block.

  ORDER’S revised rewards, however, left much to be desired.

  You have caught a kote using a rare method. You have dealt significant damage to the kote. You have dealt fatal damage to the kote. The kote is dead. You have defeated the kote (1st Degree Enlightenment).

  You receive:

  Rare Method

  Medium Symbol of Chi x1

  Medium Standard Talent Mark x1

  Medium Standard Universal State x1

  Kote Defeated!

  Lesser Symbol of Chi x4

  Lesser Attribute Mark, Agility x1

  Lesser Attribute Mark, Strength x1

  Talent Mark, Detect Traps x1

  Lesser Standard Talent Mark x1

  Personal Talent Mark, Fishing Instinct x1

  The fact that a smaller kote earned fewer rewards was expected. But downgrading the method from ultra-rare to just rare was a surprise. And an unpleasant one at that, as the downgrade translated to serious inferior rewards.

  Yesterday I had caught ten kote, and I couldn’t point to any significant changes from yesterday to today. Assuming that ORDER was keen on the decimal system, after fishing ten more, the rare method might become something even less prestigious, and so would the rewards. If there’ll be any rewards at all...

  This sucks. I had been counting on quickly raising my states to cosmic heights. It had seemed so simple: fishing peacefully to my heart’s content, enjoying the fresh breeze while chewing on leak stalks, and piling up the strategic rewards.

  On the other hand, talent marks were far more valuable to me at this time, and ORDER was still rather generous with those. What others earned for a full day of arduous labor, I was netting for each kote caught, no matter how small.

  “Something the matter?” Beko asked.

  “Why do you ask?” I wondered.

  “You’re staring into the distance. As if you’re seeing something I’m not.”

  “That is true. I see a great many things.”

  “Tell me? I’m curious what’s there to be seen.”

  “I see us catching around twenty kote like this one. Maybe even thirty.”

  “This one is kind of small.”

  “True, but they’re easy to pull ashore. And there’s going to be twenty of them. Maybe thirty. We can hand in enough baskets today to give us a week’s worth of leisure.”

  “What’s a leisure?”

  “You know, not having to do anything. Haven’t you ever just lazed around, doing nothing?”

  “No. There was always something to do.”

  “So you’re a workaholic, eh, Beko?”

  “What’s a workaholic?”

  “Mm-hmm, there are some serious gaps in your education, my friend. But fear not, I’m going to help you fill them. Go ahead and prep the baskets and the knife. We’re going to have a large haul, since the river is full of fish that are crazy for our new bait.”

  * * *

  The promised twenty were caught by lunchtime. I had also confirmed my assumption from before. The worst version of it, unfortunately: the ORDER had ceased to award rare-method bonuses after ten catches. I now had to content myself with the prizes awarded for fish alone, which, in all honesty, were still extraordinarily generous. Most people couldn’t dare think of earning such fortunes in their boldest dreams, but my beast had already grown accustomed to luxury, and this sudden shift was akin to downgrading from color television back to black-and-white.

  Having quickly secured the three planned attribute gains, I now boasted two points in Agility and one in Stamina. This opened up the option to unlock a couple of new talents, but I was in no hurry to do so. This was a serious step that called for serious analysis before making any decisions.

  For instance, in my utter ignorance, I had no idea whether these talents could be unlearned at any point in the future so as to make room for something better. Despite mother’s best efforts, my homeschooling had been rather deficient. Many topics had been left uncovered, or mentioned only passingly, without delving into details. Even crucial ones like the amulet, which remained to me a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Charging it even to comically low values cost an arm and a leg, and our family budget had been in a state of chronic corrosion as a result. But now, all of a sudden it had refilled itself for several months ahead, and with a powerful stat boost besides.

  How could this happen? Who directed this process? If I remembered my lessons correctly, chi was a blind force. Its streams flowed along channels which could only be manipulated by the mind—or the animal instinct—of a creature of the ORDER.

  I would have to wait until tomorrow. For now, spending 200 units to develop 2 attributes had decently reduced the chi in my reservoir. Now, I would watch to see if the leak slowed or not.

  * * *

  Disaster struck at the twenty-third fish. The first twenty-two had been a breeze to pull out, their seven-eight pounds of weight hardly an exertion even for me. Kote were powerful creatures, but when securely hooked, you needed no more than a few minutes to drag them ashore.

  Everything was going fine at first. Upon feeling the bite, I pulled on the cord, puncturing the fish’s maw with the rough iron hook. Then, ignoring the disturbed kote’s protests, I began to spin right to left, winding the cord over my torso. It felt a bit silly impersonating a giant spool, but it kept my hands intact and the cord untangled.

  A powerful force knocked me off my feet. I skidded forward a few yards, ending up in the cold water as I dug my heels instinctively into the sand. The braking effort worked, but it took all of my strength to resist the force from pulling me into the river. It was as though a tractor was dragging me forward. My feet were starting to unearth rocks, signaling that my “anchors” were operating on borrowed time.

  What the hell?! This is a common kote, not a great white!

  I activated Fishing Instinct for a few seconds, and almost cursed in a long-abandoned tongue from my first life.

  The reason for my indignation was obvious: instead of a ten-pound kote, I had a veritable living log thrashing on the other end of the line, a monster no less than seven feet long. I recognized the creature right away. Aside from t
he cold water, it was these vile things that dissuaded the fort’s inhabitants from opening beach season.

  The beast was significantly larger than the fish from which I had begun my angling career. Only where had it come from? I had been looking at the water just moments ago, and hadn’t noticed anything near its size.

  But that was idle curiosity to be entertained later. For now, I had work to do.

  The block wouldn’t be of any use. I had already wound the cord several times around my midriff, and besides, the stake wouldn’t hold. The fish was too huge, too strong. Even if the stake were firmly secured deep in the sand, it would rip it out with ease.

  “Beko!!!” I bellowed.

  “What?” the ghoul exclaimed.

  “Hold on to me!”

  “How?!”