The Twilight Obelisk

by Alexey Osadchuk

  I had a bad feeling about all this. They were going to become a liability, I just knew it.

  Droy, however, preserved his habitual cool. During our conversation last night he’d made it perfectly clear that he would neither risk nor sacrifice his own men in case of any problems. If Amai wanted to play the hero, let him do so, as long as we stayed out of it.

  I was ready too. Both summoning charms had long been activated. Prankie was running to and fro under the warriors’ feet like a ball of mercury, ready to heal whomever I might point to. Boris waited next to the serried ranks. His Triumphant Crow might come in very handy if the enemy did breach our Shield Wall.

  Also, just as we’d entered the dungeon, I’d cast three 5-hour buffs on our group. The Red Owls greeted their activation with a victorious roar, earning us quite a few quizzical stares from the Wolves who hadn’t gotten any buffs at all.

  As for me, I’d bought myself plenty of Life and Energy stones at auction as well as some Life and Speed elixirs. As they say in the Glasshouse, I was “all kitted out”. I looked rather like a Christmas tree hung with all the buffs and stuff.

  “Advance,” Droy commanded softly.

  The warriors moved forward.

  Had those mobs indeed reacted to the vibrations of the rocks, they would have been upon us a long time ago. Our tanks stomped their heavy boots so hard you could probably hear them above ground. And that’s without vibrations.

  As we marched, I had some time to take a look around. The tunnel was rather wide — plenty of space for our ranks to regroup. Its walls and ceiling were covered in spots of some shimmering substance which looked like a sort of moss even though the system offered no prompts.

  We’d extinguished our torches. Droy, however, told us to keep them at hand. One never knew what might lie ahead.

  My gaze habitually searched all the dark nooks and crannies. With my Observation Skills, I had every chance of discovering something useful. Unfortunately, the tunnel was pristine as if it had been swept, mopped and polished just before our arrival. Quite weird, if you consider the place’s gory fame. It didn’t look as if it had ever been the scene of any fierce battles as the Wiki claimed.

  We came across the first mobs less than a hundred feet later. The Thorn Rats must have sensed our arrival somehow and hurried to greet us in their own fashion.

  I wouldn’t say they were that impressive. I’d seen worse monsters in Mirror World.

  They were about the same height as myself, with pale humanoid bodies. Their skinny spines, sharp elbows and knobbly knees were covered in sharp spikes. They had small elongated skulls covered with more spikes instead of hair.

  Just as Shorve had said, they had neither eyes nor ears. These defects was more than compensated by their generous jawfuls of sharp teeth.

  “Attack!” Droy’s voice echoed through the ancient tunnel.

  Attention Commander General!

  Your group has been attacked by a Sentry Thorn Rat (270)!

  Oh. First impressions can be misleading, that’s for sure. The Thorn Rats managed to surprise me, after all. I’d never seen such speedy mobs before. They moved in leaps and bounds as if microporting.

  Predictably, all of our archers missed. Not to even mention me with my humble slingshot.

  The first Rat flashed through the air like lightning, ramming our Shield Wall with his whole body. Still, despite its speed, our tanks didn’t budge an inch.

  Aha. So that’s how it was, then. These mobs weren’t very strong, were they? Their stats seemed to be invested exclusively in speed and agility.

  Well, if that was the case, excellent! An agile mob had few chances against a tank. At least that’s what they said in the forums. The beasts’ only chance was if they attacked us in large numbers.

  Before the mob knew what had hit him, his skinny frame was already peppered with arrows and skewered by several spears.

  The remaining Rats met the very same fate. The first attacker’s death hadn’t taught them to change their tactics which boiled down to a lightning attack followed by an equally prompt death.

  A system message popped up, informing me of our first victory and the XP received. We’d also earned 3 pt. Discipline — one per Rat, I suppose. That was nice of them.

  Everything had happened so fast and felt so mundane that my Calteans exchanged puzzled stares. As they curiously studied the ugly little corpses, Crym called us aside.

  “Did you see this?” he asked grimly, offering us his shield. Its steel-lined wooden surface was covered in the mobs’ shallow claw marks.

  As the others studied it gravely, I struggled to suppress a smile. Lia! The tiny artist must have gotten her little hands on our new gear! Both Crym’s shield and his entire armor were covered in minute patterns. I checked the other warriors — the same! She was quick, wasn’t she? What could I say? She’d done good!

  “They may look like nothing but their claws are something else,” Orman commented, studying Crym’s shield.

  I wouldn’t say it had suffered that much. Its Durability was still going strong. The shield was far from reaching its breaking point; but still, provided these attacks were numerous, our tanks risked losing them at some point.

  “Fast and aggressive but absolutely defenseless,” Seet summed up, kicking the Rat’s corpse.

  “That’s not what worries me,” Droy murmured, nodding meaningfully at the Wolves. “If these monsters get to our horse dealers, they’ll be in trouble.”

  Orman shrugged. “That’s what they wanted, wasn’t it? We did offer them to join our formation.”

  “They’re too good for that,” Seet snickered.

  I just stood there admiring their poise. Who would have thought that my Calteans — who used to be the same savage “horse dealers” if the truth were known — would have transformed into a fully functional combat unit? Now they were criticizing their allies for what they themselves used to be less than three days ago.

  And before I forgot... I walked over to each corpse and picked up the loot.

  Just some teeth and claws, not much. Still, this was only a beginning. Besides, you never knew how much they could fetch back on the continent.

  “Stay focused!” Droy’s growl made everybody jump. “These were only sentries. Keep going! Keep your eyes peeled!”

  We’d barely advanced another fifty feet or so when I heard a weird noise coming from the tunnel.

  I looked around me at the warriors. They pricked up their ears.

  “Sounds like the rustling of leaves,” Shorve said.

  Those who’d heard him enthusiastically nodded their agreement.

  “Shield wall!” Droy shouted.

  “Shield wall! Shield Wall!” the sergeants snapped after him.

  The Wolves’ commanders began disorderly spitting out orders, too. Amai’s men huddled together in a thick mass bristling with swords and spears.

  Better than nothing, I suppose.

  The weird noise was getting closer and clearer with every moment. I already knew what was making it. And once the first pale monsters appeared out of the dark, I knew I’d been right.

  The spooky rustling noise was made by hundreds of Rats’ claws scraping the rock floor.

  The spine-chilling sounds combined with the sight of the Rats pouring out of the tunnel’s dark mouth was enough to make my blood curdle.

  “Archers!” Droy barked.

  The sound of his voice, the snapping of bowstrings, the singing of arrows and the sergeants’ encouraging bawling — all this seemed to shake me out of my stupor. I cast a quick look around. No one seemed to have noticed my momentary lapse of focus. So much for their great general.

  The mobs indeed proved to be virtually defenseless. A couple of arrows was well enough to finish them off. System messages reporting their deaths kept flashing before my eyes.

  This time they came in two kinds: sentries and guards. They looked identical, apart from their levels. Guard Rats were level 280 — but despite this impressive lev
el gap, they too needed a maximum of three arrows.

  Despite the mobs’ fierce attack, we’d had no casualties as yet. What a good job I’d upgraded their gear! Had they entered this dungeon in their old “gray” armor, things might have taken a totally different turn.

  Until now, the Wolves had been lucky: my warriors had pulled all the aggro to themselves. All the Wolves had left to do was shoot their arrows from a safe distance.

  Good. Let it stay that way. I didn’t want them to stick their respective necks out.

  I didn’t take part in the shootout. I was their general, after all. A general’s job is to control the entire picture. None of my men was wounded even though Prankie was prepared to offer his medical services whenever needed.

  Come to think of it, buffs are really important. They’re especially beneficial at low levels — all those blessings and performance enhancers whose effects aren’t really that remarkable at top levels. They can turn a regular char into an epic Incredible Hulk-style superhero. Your body bursts with power; in moments like these, you can take on the world.

  There was one thing that worried me, however. What was going to happen to me once I climbed out of my VR capsule and reverted to my old human body? I was gradually turning into Olgerd, getting used to his speed, agility and excellent eyesight. His joints didn’t ache on rainy days. He didn’t need glasses. His blood pressure didn’t play up. He didn’t have headaches in the mornings.

  No wonder people preferred to spend most of their lives in VR modules which gave them freedom from pain and helplessness. Logical. It couldn’t be any other way.

  As I now stood shielded by my warriors watching them as they made mincemeat out of the attacking mobs, I began to realize that my life had changed irreversibly. I’d changed, too.

  My XP bar was filling up. The system kept showering me with messages reporting new levels. My warriors’ eyes betrayed their enthusiasm and the sense of their own superiority over the enemy. And it wasn’t exactly ungrounded. They had indeed become stronger — tougher.

  If the logs were to be believed, the battle had lasted 9 min 23 sec. A victorious roar shattered the tunnel, celebrating the death of the last mob. The Calteans’ bearded faces betrayed their disbelief at their lightning victory.

  I counted 85 mobs in total. That was the number of Discipline points we’d received. I couldn’t quite believe it myself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Droy asked, peering warily from behind a rock.

  I opened the raid tab. The buffs would last another hour and a half.

  “We might just make it,” I replied.

  “We might,” Amai agreed, then added, “Can’t we just surround them?”

  Surround them! I don’t think so, Comrade Shaman.

  “If we break the formation, we’ll die,” Droy snapped.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Pike’s reaction. He gave an inconspicuous nod, as if agreeing with our Captain. He’d had plenty of time to witness the superiority of both our weapons and our formations.

  Amai, however, pursed his lips, sulking.

  What was wrong with him? I didn’t recognize him. What’s with all the mood swings? This wasn’t the focused level-headed leader he’d been before we’d entered the dungeon.

  Didn’t he have enough casualties? The Wolves had already lost thirteen warriors. That was almost half of his group! And it’s only because at some point their brave leader had thought that sitting it out behind our tanks’ backs was losing face!

  It had all happened too quickly. During one of the Rats’ attacks, the Wolves’ archers had suddenly showered them with arrows. Predictably, they’d aggroed the entire pack who’d then lunged on the virtually armorless Wolves.

  As a result, they now had thirteen dead and another ten wounded.

  Had it not been for his faithful giant of a bodyguard, Amai would have already joined his ancestors in a Caltean afterlife. True, he was a powerful shaman who’d helped us a lot on our way here. But he was such a dumbass sometimes. Worse than some stupid hyperactive teenager.

  Or was he just trying to confront some inner problem of his? Hadn’t he told me that someone had called him a coward when he’d taken his clan out onto the steppes? It was very possible he was trying to make up for it. But thirteen bodies! And we’d asked them not to shoot without our permission, too! He must have gotten an adrenaline kick when he’d seen that the Rats were an easy kill and decided to show us that his Wolves were every bit as good as the Red Owls.

  True, they may have been just as brave but as for the rest, the Wolves were a far cry from my warriors. The moment the Rats had gotten near them, they’d promptly taught them a lesson in humility. The sight of the Wolves’ mauled bodies was sickening. I didn’t even want to think about it.

  Now Pike had managed to surprise me. I hadn’t expected that from him at all. I used to think he was a Caltean like any other, only a higher-level one, a perfect match for our Droy, Crym or Orman. But the moment his scimitars had begun to glow as he’d engaged in combat, my jaw dropped. He was much faster than any of the Rats, killing each one with a single well-aimed stroke.

  What a shame I didn’t have enough Reputation with them to check their stats or the stats of their weapons. Pike was full of surprises. Never mind. I was sure I would get my answer, given some time.

  The very last fight had proved to be the hardest. We had to gain access to the grotto’s last cave. The creatures were so numerous that several dozen of them had fought their way through our ranks. I thought this was the end of me but my men didn’t let me down.

  With every fight, their experience kept growing — as did their Discipline. The importance of this little stat was hard to overstate. It affected virtually everything, especially the speed with which they fell in, as well as their synchronization and promptness in following orders. The Calteans fought as one man: a single wall of shields bristling with spears, hammers and poleaxes which barreled through the incoming enemy.

  I didn’t envy the Rats. They’d lost about fifteen hundred. Unbelievable.

  Their claws and teeth were the only loot they’d dropped. Nothing else. Actually, Weigner had told me about these types of dungeons: they mainly rewarded you with XP, allowing you to level up faster.

  The thing is, when you’ve just started playing, the system showers you with new levels. But with every new level gained, your XP bar keeps growing — and once you make level 300, it becomes virtually infinite. High-level players go on evolved military campaigns against the strongest monsters in Mirror World hoping for a pittance of new XP.

  So I had a reason to celebrate, really: I’d made level 140 already. But that was mainly due to the percentage I’d received for leading an NPC raid.

  Happy? I was overjoyed! The only thing that ruined my good mood was the death of Amai’s men. We’d already gotten used to them, you see. They were our comrades in arms. The tunnel had brought us closer together, turning us into a proper team. If only Amai had stopped his nonsense...

  I just hoped that Pike might reason with him before they lost all their warriors. We still had the dungeon boss and his army to tackle.

  Because it looked like we’d finally arrived.

  The main cave was absolutely enormous. A grotto? More like a spaceship hangar lying at our feet. It was at least eight by six hundred yards long and another couple of hundred yards high. You could park fifty Boeings in there, easy.

  The shimmering moss allowed us to see everything below. The place was absolutely covered in terrace after terrace of handmade ledges shaped as honeycombs. What on earth might it be?

  “That’s the biggest farm I’ve ever seen!” Crym whispered in admiration next to me.

  “A farm?” I asked.

  Droy nodded. “Of course. We call them mushroom nurseries. You liked the meat stew Orman made, remember?”

  How could I ever forget? The stew had been delicious. Orman was an excellent cook, and I’d told him as much.
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br />   “Those were cave mushrooms,” Orman explained. “It’s a good job we stocked up on them before setting off on our journey. Do you remember who we bought them from? Was it the Axes or the Stone Fists?”

  “It was us,” Crym confirmed with a dreamy smile. “It was an excellent year for them. We had one hell of a crop.”

  With a wistful sigh, the Calteans nodded their agreement.

  Suddenly I felt very sorry for them. They used to live happily raising their children and working their land. They’d had dreams, they’d made friends, they had gotten married; they’d even grown mushrooms. Then before they knew it, an enemy had taken it all away from them.

  Not good.

  “Did you have farms like this one?” I asked Crym.

  He shook his head. “Not this big, no.”

  “A crop like this could last the entire Caltean race at least three years,” Orman said. “I don’t think your ancestors used to go hungry, Olgerd.”

  “Enough of your mushroom talk,” Droy grumbled. “First let’s do what we’ve come here for, then we can discuss it. So Olgerd, what do you think? How should we go about this monster?”

  Good question. The Rat King lair was right at the very center of the cave. I could see him, sitting of a large rock surrounded by Guards.

  Huge bastard. Even from where I was, I could clearly see his big teeth and long claws, with a level to match: 400. This would be a challenge.

  And he was only half our problem. There were also his guards to tackle, about a hundred in total. They were much bigger than the Rats we’d smoked by the dozen earlier. All of them were level 350.

  I checked the buffs. We still had just over an hour left. We should be able to make it.

  “Now,” I said. “That one over there is their King.”

  “You can see he’s strong,” Orman murmured respectfully.

  “He is,” I agreed. “He’s been around the block a few times. And as you might have noticed, he’s not alone.”