by Arthur Stone
The Gods of the Second World
Contents
The Gods of the Second World
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 1
The bushes were nothing to write home about. Had a medium-sized dog tried to hide there, it would run into a couple of serious problems. There were too few leaves—none at all at the bottom, but the top wasn't particularly lush, either. There was almost no grass growing underneath, and thus nothing to rely upon for disguise down below. Not the best shelter by any account, in other words.
Ros was larger than a mastiff, let alone a medium-sized dog, but he nevertheless chose this place to hide. What else could he do? There was nothing else available anywhere near, and every second counted. The group of beasts that suddenly emerged from a copse to the right left him no choice. It would hardly be prudent to run from creatures given extremely long limbs by the game developers. Those long-legged critters would catch him in a minute out in the open — and that's provided they don't hurry.
Ros has seen enough Second World creatures, so their appearance gave him some idea of what they may be capable of.
It was the second day in this area that he encountered no weak enemies, so it would be futile to hope that he would manage to dispatch this particular group. The distance was too great to find out such details as their level or any stats whatsoever, but the logic of the game told him that monsters the size of a well-fed bull would present a serious problem. Even a level 100 player would find it hard to face one of those, and Ros was nowhere near.
And to encounter a pack would be perilous even for a level 150.
Ros saw a lot in the course of his five days on the road. He managed to kill a few dozen monsters, thirteen of which turned out to be new, and received some decent achievements as a result. He'd had a few really close shaves, but his sturdy equipment, high stats, and set of various spells eventually saw him through. The ability to heal himself came in particularly handy. He also discovered a few previously unknown areas—he couldn't always move along the straight line drawn on the map, and his skills made him capable of recording everything his eye could see with great precision. His new Transmogrification Cube allowed him to create six items the likes of which had never existed in Second World. That, too, gave him quite a few pleasant bonuses.
One of the items—namely, a bracelet—turned out to be quite outstanding. Ros assumed he could get around seven or eight thousand gold pieces for it—or, perhaps, even ten.
He ran into all sorts of situations along the way, but the thread of his gaming life never got severed. He managed to avoid scenarios where respawning would be the only option. Circumspection, attentiveness, and a little bit of luck. He kept approaching his goal step by cautious step, for death would invariably result in his being sent back to Agythric's mine and he'd have to start all over again. This would result in the loss of five days. And, who knows? The rulers of the Locked Lands may have given similar assignments to other groups as well. Should one of them turn out luckier than Ros, all his efforts will have been in vain.
He would have to start again, should the beasts notice him. The sparse vegetation and his well-developed Disguise skill were his only hope.
He should also avoid movement. And blinking. And it would probably make sense to skip every other breath—or, perhaps, even two.
One of the few leaves that grew at the bottom of the bush kept moving this way and that, barely perceptibly, right before his eyes. It kept vibrating, even though no wind blew, as if it had nervous tremors just like Ros. It was rather elongated, of olive color, and looked like something you'd expect to find on a willow. The long vein at the center with a network of very thin side vessels was perfectly discernible. The leaf had a tiny gnarl at the bottom—reddish-brown, the size of a matchstick head. It looked so alien that even someone with zero knowledge of botany could identify it as a tumor or the nest of a parasite.
Ros wondered about it in a detached sort of way. He had never noticed such minor details of seemingly little import before as a detailed representation of a tree leaf and its ailment. The gaming process was not affected by whether or not leaves had veins, or how complex their biology was. And yet the powers that ruled over this word opined differently, taking every minor and unimportant detail into account.
Ros wondered how the leaf would look under a microscope. Would one be able to see cells? And what if one went deeper? Membranes and nuclei? Deeper still? Molecules? Atoms? Protons and neutrons? And would it go all the way down to quarks, or whatever the smallest particles were?
The thoughts weren't particularly congruent to the situation, but he couldn't tell his head what exactly to think, so this was the line of thought he ended up with.
Meanwhile, the mobs were in no hurry to leave. They started some strange bustle at the distance of some two hundred paces from Ros's hiding place. Some of them clung together, persistently pecking at the hardened soil with their enormous duck beaks and scratching at it with their massive forepaws ending with short but thick claws. The rest surrounded them, standing still and watching the odd actions of their kinsfolk attentively.
The moment Ros started contemplating the foliage on the bush where he was hiding, something unexpected happened. A column of dust and earth erupted from the pit dug by the mobs. Ros was unfamiliar with the military business, but it seemed to him that a shell had exploded—the only things lacking were the sound, the fire, and the smoke. The majority of the mobs, who had stood motionlessly prior to that, all took off at once, launching a quick attack at something hiding underground. Ros heard a piercing shriek that nearly deafened him despite the distance. It was full of mortal pain and fear; then it stopped as instantly as it had started.
The pack spent some five minutes in the pit—a churning mass of bodies looking almost monolithic. Then the mobs ceased their bustle and lazily headed for the copse, disappearing from sight shortly.
Ros remembered that it was nothing but curiosity that had killed the proverbial cat, but he couldn't go on without finding out what had happened to the subterranean.
He waited for about half an hour. Having made certain nothing out of the ordinary was going on, he cautiously approached the "excavation site" and took a look at the bottom of the pit.
There was a cylindrically-shaped crater there with lumps of earth fallen from above at the bottom, mingling with shards of something that looked like white porcelain. Or, rather, the shell of an enormous egg. A skeleton of an unknown creature lay on the rubble. It was the size of an ox or larger, with a long and thin tail that wouldn't look out of place on a reptile or a rat, six limbs, and a tiny flat head. Ros never saw anything like it, but given the beast's size, talons, and fangs, an encounter with one of these bode one no good.
He climbed down and touched the bloodied skeleton.
"A Flightless Ayg fledgling. Attention! You have found the remnants of a creature that has not yet been added to the world bestiary! You receive a reward: +1 to Agility. You can receive the reward for discovering a new creature at the Academy of Magic. Achievement completed: Tireless Monster Researcher. Achievement bonus: +1 to Perception, +2 to Carrying Capacity, +1 to Essence of Things
, +1 to Luck, +1 to Reason, +2 undistributed secondary base stat points, +1 undistributed auxiliary stat point. Achievement unlocked: Monster Researcher Extraordinaire. Discover 45 monsters that have not yet been added to the world bestiary by yourself to complete the achievement. Achievement bonus: random."
Ros chuckled. He thought he should visit the Academy of Magic, after all. Not so much to pick up any new spells, although those won't go amiss, either. The discovered mobs were the primary reason. So far, he had dispatched forty of the regular variety, and one got solid bonuses for the discovery of so much as a single species.
What would he get for a family-sized pack like his? The voice of greed chuckled contentedly in his head, counting on getting a few tasty morsels.
However, he'd have to reach the Academy first…
Ros got a set of fangs and talons from the skeleton. He decided to keep them in his bag—they might come in handy at some point, after all. If no one had discovered this Flightless Ayg to date, no artisans would have used these ingredients. Could it be that they were required for crafting a legendary sword or some such?
But what was that thing in the distance? The terrain was perfectly flat, so he could see every bump. It was neither a rock, nor a molehill. If his eyes played no tricks on him, it was something out of the ordinary.
Ros thought that he would get himself killed someday—just like the cat he had thought of earlier. His inner feline was certainly restless right then, trying to stick its nose into all kinds of things. But that was the direction he'd been planning to follow, at any rate, so his curiosity would not get in the way of his plans.
It was no stone—nor was it any other ordinary object that fooled the eye by seeming unusual. Nevertheless, Ros had to admit he had rarely seen anything of this sort before.
Dying in the game was a really complex issue. Some players, once they get there, respawn at their preselected location virtually instantly; however, many players do everything they can to make sure their reincarnation happens sooner rather than later. The time between the killing blow and resurrection can be extended by means of leveling up, investing one's points into a specific set of stats, by using magical object with corresponding properties, and by receiving buffs from certain classes.
Why would one want to extend the brief moment of oblivion? Because it could be vital. For instance, if one died from the fiery breath of a horrendous boss during a raid, one would weaken one's party. Instead of receiving a bunch of trophies, one's fellow players would have to face all kinds of trouble. Only a complete noob would believe that players who deal the most damage are the most important for such raids. They are necessary—that much goes without saying. However, without proper support they are but cannon fodder.
And there are all kinds of support. Players with effective resurrection spells are particularly useful. And effective means they reduce the loss of experience after death, can be cast quickly, and use a minimum amount of mana. Spells of that kind can revive a dead player in an instant. A fighter rejoins the battle after a mere wave of the staff—a lot worse for the wear, with a minimum amount of HP and mana, and without any buffs. But the important thing is that it would still be a live and active player rather than a useless body at a faraway respawn point.
The owner of the body in question must have invested a lot into extending the "moment of oblivion" as far as possible. Ros had to walk a few hundred feet to reach the corpse, and that took a while. Also, he had no idea about how long the body had been there. The player must have succumbed to some long-term spell dealing damage seconds and minutes after it was used. It could also have been accumulated damage causing critical bleeding that could not be stopped.
The fact that the body stayed there as long as it had meant the player must have been a strong one. And their last battle would have been visible from afar—yet nothing of the sort had happened, even though it took Ros quite a while to hide from the "grasshoppers." There were no known ways of delaying one's respawn for this long a period.
That left three possible options—either the player had come to die, or they had been carried there, or, alternatively, they had died voluntarily, without providing resistance. Maybe the player even helped their killers. The latter, though, was extremely unlikely. Ros had only encountered one such masochist over the course of the time spent in the game.
On the other hand, how exactly does one encounter oneself?
Ros looked around carefully, but he didn't notice anything suspicious. That wouldn't mean anything in real life, either. And given such options as invisibility, magical disguise, etc, so common for the game, his observations were utterly useless. Nevertheless, it did give him some peace of mind.
It was as though the body had been waiting for Ros. It dissolved into thin air as soon as he got close. That gave Ros a long pause.
Up to that moment, he had only come across monsters. Some were harmless, while others were not. They were controlled by a state-of-the-art AI, but their behavior was more or less predictable.
Now he had encountered his first player. And those were the unpredictable ones. Not a single monster would voluntarily hide in an ambush near the place of someone's death for hours on end. But a hardened killer would. It would be extremely effective in cases of property loss. Either the deceased player would come to get their property, or they would ask their friends for help. The result was the same, however—one's potential prey would turn up where expected, sooner or later.
In other words, if one didn't know what the matter was, it would be prudent for one not to approach any corpses.
Yet that what exactly what Ros did. And he had valuable items aplently. His name may not have been bathed in the blood of innocent victims, yet everyone had a chance to lose some part of their property.
The grass rustled softly as narrow black bodies of fiendish creatures emerged, one by one. They looked like rats on steroids, but their snouts were unnaturally sharpened, and their eyes were mounted on short stalks.
Well, the construction of their eyes was unimportant, anyway. Ros had killed so many rodents since the times of his absolute noobhood that he could dispose of them without engaging his mind at all—his reflexes could take care of that.
There were several opponents, so he cast a Chaos Aura over the entire mob the first thing. Then he used Entangling Roots to immobilize one of the mobs, cast Sleep on another, and dodged the remaining two, managing to deal damage to each. One got a Chaos Arrow, and the other, a Fireball.
The grass started to make crackling sounds from the heat, and his leg jerked from the first bite. Pure unadulterated fun!
Well, it wasn't much fun, actually. Ros had no illusions about his current condition—he didn't stand a chance against four high-level opponents without a pet. And high-level opponents were all he had encountered in these lands so far. Yet that was no reason to sell his life cheaply.
An Arrow and a Fireball, followed by another Arrow and another Fireball. And then, another blow—right on the cheeky pointed snout. But what was that? His opponent ceased to show any signs of life after yet another attack. Then another one fell down lifeless right next to the first. Suddenly, Ros found he was winning, no matter how odd that might have seemed. His HP bar was still perilously short, but he had enough mana, as always, so healing wouldn't be a problem.
Another Fireball, followed by another Arrow. The third mob grew still, adding to Ros's experience. The fourth one fell a moment later, but that didn't please Ros at all, for it hadn't been magic that killed the beast, but rather a long white arrow that ran right through the mob's body.
The game was not the same as real life. There were other sentient entities but people—namely, those controlled by artificial intelligence. Some of them were capable of using all kinds of weapons. Nevertheless, Ros had no doubts about the fact that the archer wasn't a mob.
Only a human being could wait for a player to dispatch three opponents to kill the fourth without any repercussions.
The player may well be
the next victim—human players don't fret much over such things…
Archers were a necessary class, but they weren't quite as popular as they used to be in older games. Second World wouldn't let you learn a few skills that would let you reign supreme over all your opponents. You would need the most basic Accuracy skill for the arrow to find its target. Even though it was much easier to learn Archery in the game than it would be in real life, there were many players intimidated by so much as a hint of possible problems.
The bow was too complex a weapon for a game where most players valued simplicity above all.
Ros dashed to the left, and then to the right, doing a somersault. Then he jumped up and started running backwards as fast as he could, only to change his trajectory in a completely unpredictable manner the next second. No matter how skilled an archer might be, a moving target is hard to hit. All he needed to do was discover the archer's location, and then use the same "hare" tactics to move in the opposite direction.
A figure holding a bow appeared from out of nowhere in a place that had been completely empty a few seconds ago. That wouldn't have been a problem in itself. There were many skills, after all. The problem was that the player appeared some five steps away from Ros.
Even a completely green noob would hit their mark from such a distance.
The bow was lowered, and there was no arrow. And yet that didn't mean that the stranger hadn't intended to kill Ros. There were plenty of sadists in the game fond of taking their time before they would kill their opponent—especially if they were certain of their impunity.
And this one looked as certain as they got. You could tell by his happy smile.
However, the smile was hardly triumphant. More like… slightly confused, perhaps? Or even completely gormless. The name was silly as well— Macho Strongman. Who could guess what to expect from someone who'd voluntarily choose such a name?
The player raised his hand to greet Ros.
"Hi! Why do you run around like that? They're all dead—look at the bodies all around."