“You will receive every conceivable assistance from the House of Darkness. I also have a few personal gifts for you.” The goddess handed him three thick scrolls in cases sealed with the Lady’s seal. The sign.
“What’s that? The Black Scrolls?” He asked, breathless with excitement.
“Yes. The Crimson Fire, the Spear of Darkness, and the Grand Summoning. Use them only in times of great need. My power is not to be wasted for the sake of amusement. And one other thing…”
Ananizarte passed him a blade. It was a bastard sword in a silver-bound sheathe. Slowly, Tao accepted it. The sword pulsed with powerful magic. With a sharp movement, he unsheathed it, and the perfectly honed double-edged blade flashed a silvery light. True silver. Interwoven black runes decorated its hilt and cross-guard. Bird’s feathers and wide open eyes were depicted on the mirror-like surface, and a blue vein of poison glistened inside the groove.
You received a new item:
Crest, the Black Sword
A dark weapon from the Netherworlds.
Quality: legendary. Material: mithril, demonite, ellurite.
Scalable. Personal.
Damage: 150-300 (piercing, slashing, ice)
Infernal Toxin: poisons target with Infernal Toxin (1-50 damage/3 seconds).
Blood Drain: turns 15% of the damage dealt into owner’s HP.
Demonic Weapon: bestows Inhuman Strength and Frenzy upon the owner.
Cosmic Cold: deals 50-100 bonus ice damage.
The Beast Inside: an infernal entity is sealed inside the blade. You inflict Horror on your enemies (3/10)
Deadly: ignores all physical resistance. 10% chance of dealing a fatal blow.
“A Black Weapon...” Tao’s voice quivered.
“Yes, a Black Weapon from the Netherworlds, Tao.”
The goddess came closer stopping just a step away from him. Tao felt her hot breath on his face. Her soft lips grazed his cheek, and with her arms around him, Ananizarte whispered under her breath,
“Tao... If you perform this task...I will give you the thing that you have desired for so long... I will give you the Blood of Darkness!”
CHAPTER 16 WAR
In the morning, I was woken by the sound of the phone ringing. Actually, it wasn’t quite morning—after I had started playing Sphere, I stayed up late and woke up late. The clock showed that it was almost noon.
“Hello, Oleg!” I heard my father’s voice. “Happy holidays!”
“Holidays? What holidays?” I was always a bit dense after waking up, at least before getting my caffeine fix.
“For crying out loud! Worker’s Day! It’s the first of May today, a national holiday!”
“I don’t keep track of this stuff. Hi, dad. How’s it going?”
“Great! You can’t imagine the size of our cucumbers!” Cucumbers at the beginning of May. Wow.
My dad is a peculiar man. Not that my mom was any better. They aren’t bad people, but they have spent all their lives implementing one mad scheme after another. They had always been busy, coming home late and pretty much abandoning me in my childhood to the care of nannies and my grandparents. They grew up in the twenties—the era of the Japanese cataclysm, the ensuing events, and the explosive development of Russia over the following decade. Maybe that was why I was addicted to online gaming...
Seven years ago, their latest undertaking cut short, my parents decided to sell all their belongings and move to the suburb of New Tokyo, following the resettlement program. The state had offered people an incentive, free land and an interest-free mortgage, hoping to dilute the stream of settlers with a few Slavic faces. They wanted to take me there as well, but thankfully, I was an adult by then, making enough money online to support myself, and flatly refused their offer. They left me my grandmother’s one-bedroom apartment and took off to carry out another crazy endeavour: either an ecofarm or a rancho.
To my surprise, thanks to the bustling growth of New Tokyo, their idea did not fail. Three years ago, when I had visited them, things were on the upswing. My parents had built a good house, almost paid off their loan, and were prospering. Their twenty-five acres of free land had greenhouses with heat supply, an ostrich ranch, a fish stocked pond, sheep, chickens, ducks, rabbits, a small roadside shop selling organic produce, and an ecofarm, visited weekly by a busload of children from New Tokyo. City dwellers actually went there to work in their garden—I saw it with my own eyes! It was called “ecological tourism”. Organic food was also in vogue. At last, my father had hit the spot.
“Mom says hi, too!” I heard my mother’s voice in the background. “What do you think about visiting us during the holidays? Come! We’ll take you and Alena for a horse ride!”
“We can’t come, dad.”
“If it’s money, just say so. I’ll send you the tickets!”
“No, it’s not that. We’ve already promised Alena’s folks we’ll visit them.”
“Ah! Too bad. Well, give my regards to Dmitry! Tell him I’ve prepared three kinds of seed potatoes for him! It’s a new hybrid, immune to all bugs!”
“All right, I’ll tell him,” I said, smiling.
“How are you doing? Still stuck in the net?”
“I’m fine. Listen, the connection is breaking up. Say hi to mom!”
“When will you visit? We miss you!”
“I don’t know yet, dad. I’ll talk to the wife. Maybe in the summer.”
Alena stirred under the blanket next to me, sleepy. As she started to wake up, she ran her warm leg on top of me, her dark hair tickling my face and chest. I stroked them gently.
My white Toyota confidently maneuvered the flow of traffic. I loved how the engine roared as I overtook or changed lanes. The car had it own history. I bought it two years previously after a particularly successful deal in COSMOS, when I had managed to sell a warring coalition an entire fleet of superweapons for real money. It was my biggest game-related deal, and the profits had been enough to cover half the cost of a brand new Toyota Russo. On top of that, I had gotten a car load, becoming the proud owner of an electromobile with all the latest frills like autopilot, air-free tires, and head-up system.
I liked driving, and I loved speed. Sometimes, especially on a freeway, I felt like I could become a pro racer.
“Look, we’re almost out of gas,” said Alena, nodding at the windscreen indicator as we left the parking lot at grocery store, loaded with bags.
“In ten years time, they won’t be selling it,” I joked, turning towards the closest gas station.
“They’re just promising that. They’ll extend the law again!” my wife chuckled. “They haven’t pumped out all the oil yet!” That was true. Even if the Russian Confederation had joined the worldwide ban on using oil engines, in practice, our lawmakers were postponing its implementation year after year. I only needed gas to start the electric engine, but the experts recommended not keeping the tank empty. The gas station was in perfect Japanese order and was worked only by the Japanese aged fifteen to twenty. I didn’t even have to exit the car.
“Domo arigato,” I thanked the operator and a funny-looking girl with a pigtail, who made rounds with a contactless payment terminal. They bowed in return.
“Sometimes I feel like they’ve outnumber us already,” I complained as we left the station.
“I feel sorry for them,” Alena replied. “We don’t know what it’s like to lose your homeland.”
“Well, these guys were born here. You just haven’t been to the Far East. There are way more of them there.”
“They are trying to integrate into our community.”
“Or are integrating us into theirs,” I countered, sarcastically. “Have you noticed how hip it is for young people to use Japanese words?”
“All right, have we bought everything now?” My other half changed the subject. “We also need to visit...”
* * *
Hello, HotCat.
Your character’s inventory (account ID G58620789) contains an unidentif
ied item, a “star metal” weapon.
We are informing you that this item is an in-game error (a bug). We’re working to remove it from the game.
In the meantime, we request that you avoid using this item to gain an in-game advantage. All items, achievements, and reputation received with the help of this item will be automatically annulled.
In the case of repeated use of this item, we reserve the right to handle your character at our discretion in compliance with the Endgame User Agreement.
Good luck!
Best wishes,
GM Summoner
SPHERE OF THE WORLDS CUSTOMER SUPPORT
* * *
“So, what did you find?”
Svenn, Valkyrie, and Diareus, the trio of Liberty members, who had just returned from a recon job, looked tired but content. Maria was cleaning her armor of patches of yellow grass and leaves, while Diareus gulped down the contents of a waterskin, probably having run out of stamina.
“It’s all good, we checked...” he mumbled, spilling fine water threads on his chest. “In a sec...”
“What do you mean, a sec!” Balian said, furious. “Svenn, give me a proper report!”
We were near the Eastern border, at the very edge of Eyre, right next to the wild lands. Our small camp in the sparse woodland, not far from the High Road was concealed from onlookers with rough yellow grass, twice as tall as a man. We were to hide our presence—even from above, from bird’s eye view.
“The sky’s clear, no birdies,” Svenn reported calmly. “The outpost’s under construction. It’s under Dyre’s banner, white axes, blue background. The construction finishes in six hours. We circled around, and everything’s clear. Lots of NPCs inside, fifty warriors, archers, swordsmen, a dozen horses and two players.”
“Players? Clan, equipment, probable archetype?” the instructor demanded. “Have you looked at their killrate?”
“We didn’t have time. Here’s a satellite shot.” Smiling, Svenn pasted a screenshot into the raid chat. “I haven’t seen those guys before...”
“PROJECT HELL! That’s too bad!” Raccoon snorted as he looked over the “photo” of the players and their nicknames. “HotCat! Gimme a killrate analysis!”
Obediently, I opened the killrate tab of the global Sphere PVP base. It was a detailed in-game ranking system, that recorded each death in player-to-player combat. The info was quite thorough: the number of players, winners’ nickname and clan, damage type and value, loot and its assessment... Lots of rankings sorted by kill number, damage value, loot cost—for players, clans, and alliances. A great yardstick for an ego contest and an invaluable data source, provided you knew how to use it. We did; we had been taught to.
All right, so Illith and Midnight, hailing from PROJECT HELL. I entered their nicknames. First, the clan. PROJECT HELL was a purely PvP-oriented community, one of the strongest in Dorsa. They claimed to be elite combatants and only accepted the best. The clan bio was super pretentious, as were the clan members’ comments in the killrate section. So much bravado! That said...they were Top 1 in kill efficiency. Three PROJECT HELL members were in the Top 10 killrate ranking. They were fourth in the kill number ranking.
They had grounds for bravado. They really were skilled and serious-minded. They had become one of the first to enter the anti-Eyre faction war, but we were yet to engage them. Actually, we hadn’t engaged almost anyone yet, as it was only the fourth day of the war. That was our first raid.
Okay, time to view their personal data:
Illith. Wow. Three thousand seven hundred and seventy-three kills, one hundred and fourteen deaths. The latest kills had taken place today, four in Daigor. Primary damage type: physical, poison, magic. Weapons: sword, dagger, axe, unarmed, throwing knives. He usually killed together with at least two clanmates, but not always: more than five hundred solo kills.
Midnight was an intriguing girl, an elf, apparently. One thousand one hundred kills, forty deaths. The three latest kills were done with Illith, today. She used magic, black healing, wand, staff, dagger, and glaive. Throwing needles? What the hell? Judging by her loot, she wore robes.
“Cat, you’re taking too long!” Raccoon’s hoarse deep voice interrupted my thoughts. “Gimme an analysis, pronto!”
“Illith—medium armor, physical damage dealer. Judging by the killrate, he’s a real beast!” I said, starting my report. “His archetype is warrior, fighter, rogue. Uses hand-to-hand and poisoned weapons. Lots of solo kills.”
“Continue.” Balian nodded.
“Midnight’s probably a caster. A healer, a priest, maybe a mage. She has throwing weapons. All of her kills were done in a group, definitely a support.”
“I know them. We’ve met.” Lorindale, who had just approached us, said quietly. “Illith’s a real bastard, an asshole with an unhealthy sense of humor. Cat guessed right, he’s not a rogue, more like an assassin. A very dangerous guy.”
“Well, it’s PROJECT HELL. They all have hidden archetypes!” Balian the Raccoon snorted. “What about the girl? Midnight?”
“She’s new. Judging by her killrate, she’s a black healer. They’re working for the House of Darkness, after all, it’s easy to level up skills like that, there.”
“PROJECT HELL farms Helt Achor,” the third instructor, Hermione, said. “They’re all dressed in epic stuff, maybe have a few legendaries, too.”
“Legendaries, you say,” Balian said, looking at her, thoughtfully. “And you tell me there weren’t any birdies. Svenn, are you sure they didn’t notice you?”
“Valkyrie used Bird’s Eyes, commander,” Svenn replied, shrugging. “They were inside, and our Concealment was always on. I don’t think they saw us.”
“Listen to me, raid! Saddle up your mounts and line up in a column of twos! Full rebuff! When we attack, assist me! Release the pawns only inside the outpost! Those who attack other targets will get a can of whoop-ass! We march out at nightfall!”
Liberty had joined the faction war. When Balance was broken, (I had a huge suspicion that it had been triggered by the identification of my sword) and lots of NPC factions had declared war on Eyre, the leaders of the Watchers decided to use the opportunity to hold the last Academy training sessions in combat conditions. It was a week until the final exam and admission into the Watchers. After joining the faction and the Eyre militia, our clan unlocked new quests and features.
What did the war look like? The territory wars in Sphere were pretty complicated, but still subject to unified rules. There could be both player-versus-player and NPC-versus-player wars, as well as NPC-versus-NPC battles, given how advanced the game’s AI was. In short, that’s how it went down.
NPC kingdoms with their own territories, capitals, cities, and armies comprised different factions whose attitude toward each other varied. For instance, the Eyre Nation were “unfriendly” toward the Principality of Daigor, the Free City of Dyre, and the House of Darkness. When the relationship turned to ‘hate’, the NPC factions went to war. When that state was achieved, the lands of warring NPC kingdoms became vulnerable to capture, and killing players and NPCs of the rival faction was no longer considered a crime. On top of all that, special quests were unlocked for players who wished to join the war. The quest rewards were pretty nifty, too, ranging from gold to epic sets of equipment.
Yes, players, both lone wolves and entire clans, could join the army of an NPC kingdom, provided they enjoyed a good reputation with them. That allowed them to freely PK the enemy faction, anywhere, even within the borders of neutral kingdoms. Many players and clans alike were happy to join the war, as it promised them exciting PvP, epic battles between NPC armies, sieges, and city assaults.
The kingdoms defended their lands with the help of cities, castles, and outposts. Each had influence over a given area. The faction’s capital had the most influence, governing a territory one hundred leagues wide, while a border outpost had the least, covering a few nearby villages. All structures, settlements, and mines in this ‘area of i
nfluence’ were subject to the NPC kingdom. NPC guards, settlers, etc, appeared, and life continued at the usual pace.
To capture a territory, you needed to attack and conquer the fortifications, destroy its garrison, kill the boss NPC, and loot a special item—the Keys, a symbolic token that granted power over the fortification. You could also simply annihilate an outpost or even an entire city, wipe it out, and kill the NPC population. Theoretically, you could even destroy the entire faction; that would be a Pyrrhic victory, and the winner would have to rebuild everything from the ground up, restoring the area of influence. And then, the Law of Balance would still take effect, and the reaction would be swift and unpredictable.
To win over their enemies, a kingdom had to capture their capital, kill the rival leader, and seize the Keys and Crown that dropped from their body. The victor then became a sovereign, and the loser, a vassal state. The sovereign could impose a tribute, control the conquered kingdom’s natural resources, and so on.
In short, this was a coveted prize, and many wanted to get involved in the faction war. By joining the Eyre militia, we, Liberty, each received a few quests: collecting special tags from enemy NPCs, reaching a certain number of frags, defending our outposts, and capturing rival constructions. Seven enemy factions declared war on the Nation of Eyre, and those who were closest had already starting to invade. Our scouts had finally located one of their outposts, deep in the borderlands.
It had just been set up, with the construction timer ticking, which meant that the outpost had not yet started to provide any defense and had no garrison. We had to destroy it as soon as possible. After construction was complete, capturing it would be a tall order, as by then it would have a proper gate and a sturdy stockade. And if we gave the enemy even more time and allowed them to upgrade it to level two, a small fortress would soon appear on our border, becoming an enemy stronghold, protected by a powerful NPC garrison and populated by quest givers and traders, which would in turn attract other players. Destroying it them would be more than problematic. Fortifications like this one could also appear at levels three and four. These required the investment of significant resources, but significantly increased area influence and defense. A level four outpost was a real castle with stone walls, the capital of an entire province with a lord ruler and an army, several thousand soldiers strong.
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