The Twilight Obelisk (Mirror World Book #4) LitRPG series

by Alexey Osadchuk

  I was pretty sure that Twilight Castle was already being discussed in every chat and forum. Auction prices for the few fragments of old maps mentioning No-Man’s Lands must have rocketed. Very soon, the strongest armies in Mirror World would arrive here, possibly wiping us off the face of this earth like the wind wipes away the dust.

  That’s why Tanor must have stopped messaging me. Why would he? This was the end of the line. The cards were on the table. Now everything depended on the other clans’ quick reactions and how well they prepare for the raid. Or, as a certain Julius Caesar once put it, “I came, I saw, I conquered”.

  Very well. The clans’ agendas as well as those of the Reflex Bank owners were pretty clear to me now. Now what would my next steps be?

  At first sight, my affairs seemed to be in a sorry state. That’s putting it mildly. But if you tried to look at the problem from a different angle — or even better, from several — they offered a very interesting view of the picture. Naturally, my lack of gaming experience didn’t allow me to grasp it all, but even I could see that not all was lost.

  What’s more, I too was in the mood for a big scuffle. Anyone who’d attempt to arrive here in order to “see and conquer” would be in for a truly unforgettable experience. I’d take care of that. I knew I could do it.

  “I can and I will! Honest to God I will!”

  “Olgerd? Whatcha mumbling there?”

  Droy’s sleepy voice distracted me from my musings. He levered himself up with his elbow, his half-opened left eye staring ironically at me. “Are you casting your magic?”

  I chuckled. “You could say that, I suppose.”

  He beamed. “That’s good. Keep going. Your witchcraft is helping the boys, I can see that.”

  I glanced at the sleeping Seet and Horm. They kept regenerating.

  “Yes, leader,” I replied. “Soon both will be back on their feet. They will need some rest and care though.”

  Droy nodded. “Good. When the others arrive, Orman’s wife Carina will soon put them right. She’s the tribe’s medicine woman.”

  “A medicine woman?” I asked curiously. “That’s interesting. Do you have many of them around here?”

  Droy craned his neck to make sure Orman was still sleeping, then turned back to me, “Olgerd, you amaze me sometimes. You’re such a smart guy. But some of the things you say...”

  “Why, what did I say?”

  Droy shook his head in amazement. “You’re lucky Orman can’t hear us. He would have told you a thing or two... He might have even punched your lights out despite you being the tribe’s friend and all that.”

  “But why? What have I done?”

  “Don’t you understand? His wife is unique. There’s nobody else like her in the whole world. Every woman is equally unique. And you’re talking about them as if they’re a bunch of rag dolls. Please, next time watch what you’re saying.”

  “I see...” I mumbled, open-mouthed.

  What was that now? Had this NPC just made it clear that I needed to change my attitude to them if I wanted to keep my Rep points? This piece of binary code actually supported the illusion of this world’s perfect authenticity?

  How interesting.

  “Droy, my friend, I’m very sorry,” I began cautiously. “I’m afraid you misunderstood me. No, it’s not that. I just failed to formulate my question correctly.”

  “I know what you wanted to fro...fom...formulate,” Droy shrugged my apology away. “You wanted to know whether there were other healers in the tribe. Of course there are.”

  Was he kidding me?

  Droy frowned. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m a smart man — it’s because I know you for quite a while. But other Calteans might not understand you as well as I do. We’re all different. Some are smarter than others; or should I say dumber? It’s just a lesson for you for the future. Make sure you don’t say something you might later regret. It would be a shame.”

  Jesus Christ. Was it my imagination or was the relationship between the NPCs and players gradually evolving, rising to a totally new level? Every time I looked at this black-bearded Caltean tribe leader, I began to wonder if he was indeed controlled by the invisible puppeteer — or had all the AI controllers been fired?

  “I can see that got you thinking,” Droy said with a sarcastic grin. “That’s good. They say that thinking is a healthy habit.”

  I shrugged. “What can I say? You’re dead right there, my friend. Thanks for the tip.”

  “That’s all right,” Droy grinned good-naturedly. “As long as you learn from my words. Like I learned from yours that day when we battled the Darks by the River Quiet.”

  We both heaved a sigh, staring at the dancing flames.

  Personally, I couldn’t tell whether that slaughter had been beneficial for me or detrimental. All I knew was that without it, we’d now have had fifty more warriors. Plus a shaman. Which is a power to be reckoned with.

  “Very well, soldier,” Droy said. “Carry on with your watch. I’ll get some more sleep.”

  Judging by his Energy bar, it would take him another couple of hours to fully restore. Same for all the others — except for the wounded warriors, of course.

  Now was a convenient moment to do what I’d planned to do all along but never had the time. I needed to study their stats.

  Let’s start with Droy.

  Level: no problem. Another battle might bring him up to 300.

  How about his characteristics?

  Oh wow. That was in fact quite complicated! A combat class. Abilities. Skills.

  Class: Warrior. Sub-class: Lancer. Why lancer? Droy was good with all sorts of weapons, wasn’t he? He was an excellent archer and could brandish his sword with the best of them. What was the catch?

  Aha. Found it.

  An NPC’s sub-class depends on the skill level of a particular weapon. In its turn, the skill level of a weapon depends on how frequently it is used in combat.

  That made sense. Indeed, the spear seemed to be Droy’s weapon of choice. He was good with it, too. How he’d skewered the Nocteans with it!

  Droy took a great deal of pride in his spear: a strong, well-made shaft topped with a long iron head. Still, a closer inspection of the weapon’s stats proved less than impressive. Its level corresponded to that of his own, but its icon... it was “gray”. Ditto for all of Droy’s gear: his knife, his sword, his bow and his clothes.

  Same applied to all the other warriors. They didn’t have a single “green” or “blue” item between them.

  Oh wow. Once again I caught myself rubbing my hands like some... some nutcase?

  No wonder! A whole Klondike of opportunities was opening up before me.

  Thoughts began thrashing about in my mind like a flock of scared birds. What if I was wrong? What if NPCs couldn’t change their pre-programmed weapons? Then my discovery wasn’t worth jack.

  On the other hand, why would they color the icons at all? Why would they allow NPCs to level up their skills and abilities?

  I couldn’t remember NPCs ever picking up loot — but that didn’t mean anything. Everything in Mirror World happened for a reason. For instance, Nocteans’ stone weapons were of a different class and therefore not suitable for the Calteans who in turn didn’t seem to be able to see certain types of players’ weapons. Was there a pattern there somewhere?

  “Never mind,” I murmured. “We’ll tackle that problem when we come to it. What next?”

  Apart from his military skills, Droy also boasted other more peaceful abilities. Apparently, he was a passionate hunter and fisherman; he could cook you a mean meal; etc. etc. The numbers against each skill said nothing to me. Once I compared his stats to those of his warriors, I might draw some conclusions. But even that wasn’t that important. The main thing was, they did have skills which could be leveled.

  I’d been so busy studying Droy’s potential I was oblivious to everything around me. In the meantime, it had started snowing.

  Oh, well. So much
for the sun. At least it wasn’t windy. I suppose that was good news.

  I had to climb to my feet and go fetch a new helping of firewood. There was plenty of it lying around, anyway.

  The fire accepted my offering and began to grow, reluctantly at first, its circle of warmth widening. Now the snowflakes melted in mid-air just out of our reach.

  “Excellent,” I sat back down and made myself comfortable. “Who’s next?”

  Seet the Burly and Horm the Turtle were both archers. But as for Orman the Bear and Crym the Hammer, both were light infantrymen.

  How interesting. Seet was only three levels away from becoming a lancer. And Horm must have used his sword a lot in the recent skirmishing: it looked like he might soon swell the ranks of our infantry.

  As for their more peaceful skills, Orman was an excellent cook (with which I agreed wholeheartedly) while Crym the Hammer was a budding mason — a colleague of mine, to a degree.

  Each of them had a good couple of dozen other skills in various degrees of arrested development.

  Never mind. We had a lot of work to do. Plenty of opportunity to level up every warrior’s skill and ability.

  Talking about stat comparing... what was that little app I’d received? The one with all the graphs? I’d forgotten all about it.

  Very well. I pressed Raid Control.

  Active raid members:

  6/296

  What was that supposed to mean? Aha... Number six was our little group. The other 290 were still on their way here. So apparently, I only had access to the stats of those NPCs who were currently with me.

  Very well. That little was clear. What next?

  Jesus. They didn’t make it easy for you, did they? Tabs and more tabs, at least fifty in total, packed with charts, graphs and diagrams...

  Aha. The Morale tab! Wasn’t it the one I could improve with the Hand of the Outcast? Let’s have a look.

  Wow. Judging by the numbers and the icons’ intense green hue, my clan members could take on the world. Which was normal, really. They’d defeated the Nocteans; they’d found a seat for their clan; they’d even managed to stay in one piece. Apart from a few wounded, we had no casualties. No wonder their morale was sky-high.

  Even though the developers had skimped on information, this characteristic was pretty much self-explanatory. A drop in Morale could have had some potentially unpleasant consequences, especially for me as the raid leader.

  The interface was pretty clumsy, I could see that. Still, it did simplify the task of raid control. I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point the game developers asked for my feedback.

  Next tab: Life Support. So many stats! Satiety, Fatigue, Physical Health... and so on and so forth, at least twenty of them. Now I didn’t have to peer at every warrior to find out how he was feeling. All I had to do was to open the chart.

  Actually, judging by the sagging graph, my men were hungry as hell. Also, I could see that our food supplies were running low.

  How strange. I’d never looked at it that way. To me, the Calteans had always been pretty self-sufficient. They used to cook their own meals on the fire, they drank their own drinks and mended their own clothes. They had managed very well without me. But now that I could see the whole picture, I could on one hand monitor it all but on the other, it added to my already quite hefty responsibilities.

  I spent some more time studying the interface until I located another very useful little app: Coordinator. From now on, it was going to report all instances of level drops for each and every one of my raiders’ stats. I could monitor each person individually or control the raid’s combined characteristics.

  I tried it out, setting it to 80%. Immediately I was flooded with hundreds of alerts. I brought the number down to 60%, then to 40%. In any case, it looked like food was a priority.

  When the others woke up, I should really watch Droy issuing orders. According to the app, we had enough food left for two more meals. Hunting was the only way we could restock our supplies. And now that I knew each person’s Hunting levels, I was curious which of them Droy would choose for the job.

  I just hoped I wouldn’t have to interfere with what I used to consider an automated process. Because if I did, I might end up being buried under an avalanche of petty problems. Then I could kiss my big plans goodbye, that’s for sure.

  Chapter Two

  “CRYM, I WANT YOU to check the area for any game,” Droy said, dishing out lumps of cooked meat out of the cauldron. “See if you can catch something.”

  Crym the Hummer nodded. “Will do.”

  Bugger. So much for my not interfering.

  Everything had seemed to go smoothly once the raiders had woken up. Orman — who’d been the first on his feet — got busy making breakfast which looked more like an oversized dinner. So far, so good. Apparently, the system worked well without me.

  But once Droy had started allocating daily tasks, I got worried.

  Okay, both Seet and Horm needed to heal and couldn’t be disturbed. But why had Droy left Orman behind to keep camp while sending Crym out hunting? Crym was hopelessly behind in Hunting: in fact, he had 50 pt. less than Orman. Shouldn’t Droy have left Crym to keep camp instead?

  I waited patiently for both to get on with their tasks, then took a seat next to Droy. “Mind if I ask you something?”

  “Fire away,” Droy said, warming his hands over the embers.

  “I just wonder, why did you send Crym out hunting? Isn’t Orman a better hunter?”

  I very nearly told him about the stats but bit my tongue just in time.

  My friend arched a surprised eyebrow. “Funny you ask me.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, think about it. You were never interested in these things before.”

  I nodded. “I wasn’t. I’m just curious.”

  “Very well. It’s quite simple, really. Your mistake is you only look at the problem from one angle. What you need to do is see the entire picture.”

  “Sorry, I don’t get it,” I said.

  “I’ll explain,” Droy said, still smiling. “You’re absolutely right in saying that Orman is the better man for the job. But!” he raised a meaningful finger. “You only thought about hunting. You seem to forget that Orman is also an excellent cook. So I want him to stay in the camp and set up his own kitchen. This is something only a cook can do. And if I asked Crym to do it instead — and you probably know what kind of ‘cook’ he is...”

  “How can I ever forget,” I winced, remembering the dinner Crym had helpfully cooked for us once.

  Droy chuckled. “Exactly. And you shouldn’t doubt Crym’s hunting skills. He’ll be back with something, that’s for sure. He’s a Caltean, after all.”

  “You think?” I asked, still unsure.

  “Of course. When I took a leak this morning, I saw some boar tracks real close. They’ve never seen man in this part of the world. They’ve probably never been hunted before. I don’t think the ancient Gods were into hunting that much. So I gave Crym a tip. You shouldn’t think I’m going to hang around doing nothing. I’ll help Orman a bit, then I’ll keep an eye on Seet and Horm.”

  He paused, thinking. “There’s something you can do, too. The snowstorm is over. Now is the time for you to summon your flying beast and take a flight around our new territory.”

  I nodded, deep in thought, digesting yet another lesson I’d just learned from this NPC.

  He was right again. Embarrassing, really. On the other hand, it was great news. It meant I wouldn’t have to concentrate on petty stuff.

  And as for taking a flight... What a good idea!

  Boris materialized out of nowhere full of life and energy, his eyes shiny, impatient to take to the sky. What was I waiting for?

  I unsummoned Prankie and leaped into the saddle. With a joyful cry, Boris the Hugger shot into the sky.

  Immediately the wintry air froze my facial muscles solid. My eyes watered. The speed! Well done, Boris! He’s come a long way.

 
I allowed him to frolic about for a bit. After a few loops, I told him to level out.

  We soared over the ancient city ruins. You couldn’t make anything out among the heaps of collapsed stonework and banks of age-old snow. Not a single building was left standing. What had happened here? A tornado? An earthquake?

  Only an occasional glimpse of the remaining foundations gave you some idea of the city’s layout.

  So what did I see? The city’s main landmark was a mountain which had offered its foothills to the Ennan builders. I could clearly see the outline of the five city walls which had encircled it: it was a bit like looking at a slice of a layered cake.

  The lowest wall — or rather, its ruins which served as a base for our camp — was also the longest. If we wanted to restore it by the deadline, we would probably need to enroll all of Mirror World’s builders. And even then I wasn’t too sure that they’d make it.

  Restoring the wall was only part of the problem, though. We also needed to defend it. I dreaded to even think how many warriors I might need just to post on the city walls.

  Never mind. This structure was way out of my league at the moment. Ditto for the next three walls. But the highest and the shortest one... I just might make it.

  If the maps were to be believed, that’s where the Brutville Halls used to stand. Almost on top of the mountain. You could indeed call it the heart of the Twilight Castle.

  I needed to take a closer look.

  Obeying my order, Boris landed on top of the tallest fragment of the wall.

  “So! It’s not that bad at all!” I exclaimed, surveying our future campsite.

  Boris sniffed his contempt. I could understand him. Here, the tallest of the wall fragments were about seven foot high, not even. Considering the nature of our enemy, these so-called fortifications weren’t going to stop anyone. Some of our future opponents might not even need to jump: they’d simply step over them.

  Now, what else... According to the map, I was now standing at the very center of the Brutville Halls so eloquently praised by Arwein.