My brain helpfully offered a potential combat tactic. I did a quick check of my weapons and elixirs. The Fix Box was 100% charged. Both my pets were high on Energy. The scarab still had 70% Durability in him.
I smiled at his motionless steely shape. "So what do you think? Should we ruin these goons' day?"
Strangely enough, my inner voice preserved an encouraging silence. It too must have been fed up with all this constant running and hiding.
"Gloom!" Spitfire yelled, second-guessing my intentions.
She was clever, wasn't she? She might go far... provided she lived to see it.
Right, enough of this staring game. Let's do it.
"Out you come, guys! Boris, immobilize the big guy! Prankie, cast the shield! Prepare to heal! Steely Guts, take care of the big guy!"
You've built the simplest mechanical creature: a Swarm of Fleas!
Number of swarm members: 3
I had no time to look into their stats but their levels were good enough. Three fleas the size of a toaster each leaped toward Spitfire. She was already casting her magic, promptly reacting to the scarab's attack.
Boris' scream immobilized Gloom whose tiny eyes seemed to be popping out of his head.
"Surprise!" I said with a vindictive grin.
Almost simultaneously my steel tank rammed into him, sending him flying like a bag of potatoes.
"Progress is a wondrous thing," I began crooning the old ditty from a Russian children's movie, "it can do most anything. It can fly you to the skies, it can make you rich and wise..."
In two powerful wingbeats, Boris soared over Gloom's head. "Give us another one, Steely Guts," I ordered, pulling the slingshot. "No more worries, lots more shirk... Let the robots do your work."
The sorceress was a terrible sight. Judging by the fleas' rhythmically moving bellies and the woman's eyes bulging with fear, they weren't going to leave a single drop of blood in her. One of them had bitten into her neck while the other two hung onto her arms. Black gangrenous spots were rapidly growing around the bites. This was the Venom of Swamp Monks in all its terrible glory.
Both her arms were already black. They looked scorched. A lump blocked my throat.
Her already short Life was dwindling rapidly. With a blood-curdling scream, Spitfire tried to pull the flea off her neck. As if! She was only a buffer, not a tank. It would be all over soon.
As she died, she looked up and stared me in the eye. Her glare was filled with so much pain and desperation... and hatred. It looked like I'd just made myself another enemy. Apparently, she'd spent all her mana reserves on Gloom who was now getting his ass kicked by my two pets.
Well, at first glance her gesture deserved every respect. Sacrificing oneself to save a team member was a noble deed any way you looked at it. But-
This was a game. In a couple of minutes, the sorceress would resurrect at her respawn point and continue playing. Somehow I doubted she could repeat her gesture in real life.
Gesture? More like cold calculation. In the real world things might have taken a totally different turn. She might have simply legged it at the first opportunity.
Someone might say this wasn't the way to treat a lady. Point taken.
Still, I had to defend myself. She'd already robbed me once, leaving me naked in the middle of the road. But here, a thief didn't rob a player — he robbed his family, taking their hard-earned real-world money away.
How many players had already become victims to Gloom and his gang? How many had he managed to pick clean?
Each and every one of them were real human beings who'd invested their own savings into the game; some might have even taken out loans like I'd done. All of them had husbands and wives, children and old-age parents. They had their share of problems, too. Some were trying to save for a down payment on a house, a car or college fees. Others could be raising money for medical treatment — either for themselves or for their loved ones. People came to Mirror World hoping they it might help them solve their problems — only to walk into the likes of Gloom and Spitfire. Bastards like them had already leveled up and gained some group experience. Which they then used to tear their victims apart like the pack of hyenas they were.
This time it hadn't worked, though. Their victim had happened to have teeth too.
The scarab managed to lunge at Gloom again like a steel rhino, dealing him another ramming blow and stripping him of a nice big chunk of Life.
You've killed a player: Spitfire.
Congratulations! You've received a new level!
Current level: 30
Finally Gloom awoke from his slumber. He whipped out his two axes from behind his back and threw himself onto the scarab. My steel pet's Durability began to dwindle at a frightening speed. Gloom's body was enveloped in a red haze: this must have been Spitfire's posthumous buff. I couldn't quite make out its stats but it was some sort of damage boost.
Which gave me an excellent chance to use an Antidote.
I hurried to activate one of the scrolls. The ancient parchment crumbled to dust.
Success!
You've deactivated a damage buff-
Gloom roared his fury. I didn't read on. His damage had dropped considerably but it wasn't going to help the scarab anymore. His Durability was rapidly dwindling, approaching zero. Boris soared into the sky, knowing what was going to happen next.
"That's it, you bastard!" Gloom growled triumphantly, posing his foot onto the scarab's mangled shell. "First," he turned to me, "I'll cut your bird's wings off and then it's your turn. You have a lot to tell me-"
He didn't finish. An explosion shattered the ground. Gloom's shredded gray body flew through the air.
"Boris, don't let him recover! Fleas, get him!"
As Gloom was scrambling on all fours shaking his head like a horse, I hurried to change into my new kit.
Congratulations! You've assembled the full kit of a Fort Guardian!
Reward:
+55 to Survival Instinct
+35 to Range
+150 to Anti-Cold Protection
+150 to Anti-Humidity Protection
+150 to Anti-Sun Protection
The first thing I felt once I'd put my new gear on was a remarkable lightness over my whole body. It was as if I'd instantly shed the hundreds of pounds' worth of junk I'd been lugging around. I can't describe it. It felt like... entering a superhero's body?
A new system message awoke me from my bliss. The Swarm of Fleas was no more.
What, already? Gloom had made quick work of my little helpers! Now he was gulping some elixirs, preparing to face Boris. Still, the fleas had managed to poison him: his right leg and shoulder were turning black slowly but surely.
"Boris, wait! Let me distract him first!"
I didn't even feel the tension as I pulled the sling. It made the familiar popping sound. Gloom's giant knee snapped. Some damage this was!
He cried out in pain. Leaning against his axe, he tried to scramble to his feet.
Another shot.
And again.
I showered him with bursts like a machine gun, critting him time and time again.
With a desperate roar, Gloom hurled his axe at me.
Oh really? That's what he could do, was it?
Why hadn't he tried it before?
The explanation was simple: I stood too close.
As if in slow motion, the bone monstrosity flew past. Still, what with my current levels of speed, I would have been utterly clumsy not to have ducked in time.
I was about to loose off another slug when Boris beat me to it. Gloom didn't survive my birdie's heavy fall from the sky.
You've killed a player: Gloom.
Warning! Gloom and Spitfire have blacklisted you!
Whatever. They'd probably sent me a nasty email, too. They wouldn't be the first, though.
I cast a blank glance at the clock. The combat had lasted all of two minutes. It had felt like an eternity. My heart was about to spring out of my chest. My arms were s
haking as if I'd spent all day loading sacks of cement. Still, I wasn't tired. My body felt light. I had a small adrenaline rush, that's all.
I checked the two chests left after Dark and Spitfire's respective demises. So! Apparently, my Blue set was akin to the arrival of a heavy-duty cannon at a medieval village.
The two PKs' Gray items sported some quite impressive stats... for a newb location, that is. The bone axe alone was a beauty, as was the sorceress' charm. Where had they managed to get them from? What a shame my Digger gear wasn't there. They must have stashed it away somewhere... or even sold it, which was much more likely.
I could only imagine how happy they'd been to read all the chat messages about my exploits. They must have known that achievements like those came with rewards to match. I just didn't understand why they'd come here alone. Had they had the two others with them, their chances might have been better.
Having said that... who was I kidding? Whether two or four, they would have stood no chance against my pet army, period. And once I'd put on my new Blue kit... nah, they could forget it.
But still. Why had they been alone? Had they been too greedy to share the loot with two more group members?
Having said that, the two others could have simply been offline and failed to contact the gang leaders in the time it had taken me to walk back to the entrance. In which case they might still arrive any minute to defend their boss' property.
I left the loot alone, stood up and cast a studying look around me. Nothing seemed to have changed. The area looked the same: the rain, the lightning, the Fort's foreboding walls, the thick undergrowth...
Wait a sec. The undergrowth.
I shook my head. Impossible. I of all people knew it. After all, I'd spent some time hiding in those thickets myself. Could it be a system glitch? Or a hallucination even? My brain was definitely in overload after all this fighting.
Yes, a hallucination. It had to be. There was no other explanation for the fact that the bushes seemed translucent now, allowing me to make out Vitar's crouching outline lurking in the thicket.
I rubbed my tired eyes. Oh. Apparently, not a hallucination. There he was, my treacherous fisherman friend. He nearly jumped when I gave him another look.
But what if... of course! How stupid of me. This was my new characteristic working! What was it called now? Survival Instinct. How awesome. One more thing I'd have to look up on the forums.
"Boris, you think you could fly closer to him so he doesn't notice?" I mouthed inconspicuously, pretending I was checking the loot. "Immobilize him to save him the trouble of escaping. Me and Prankie here will act naturally, won't we, Prankie?"
Playing along, Prankster set his front feet onto the edge of a chest and looked curiously inside. What a cheek!
Boris soared up and disappeared amid the clouds. Almost immediately we heard his victorious roar.
He hadn't left Vitar any chance. The guy froze in the bushes like a pillar of salt, his eyes bulging as if he'd just seen a UFO.
"Not you again," I said, studying his immobile frame with interest. "From what I can see they never gave you your stuff back, did they?"
He was dressed in some miserable rags. If the truth were known, even I'd looked better after finishing the instance. He was still barefoot, clad in some excuse for a jacket and a pair of canvas pants. He was shuddering — whether with fear or cold, I couldn't tell. The guy was a sorry sight indeed.
Had he really been so gullible as to believe Gloom's promises? Either he was stupid or he'd hoped to get into the gang leader's good books. He hadn't had a hope in hell of getting his old gear back — but he could get himself some new stuff, even if low-level. Judging by his looks, the former scenario was more like it.
The ten seconds' immobilization had finally elapsed. Vitar stirred weakly.
"Don't try to escape," I warned him. "Once you answer my questions, you're free to go."
"O-o-k-k-kay," he stuttered, glancing at the bounty chests his ex-bosses had left behind.
I shook my head. "There was nothing of yours there. Nor mine."
His eyes filled with pain. Had he really hoped to get his stuff back? For a moment, I even felt sorry for the idiot.
"They might have stashed it away somewhere," I suggested.
He lowered his head. "I don't think so. Sting and Gray left for the continent last night. They took all the loot with them. A month's worth. It must have been a lot if they had to go together."
"Clever," I rubbed my cheek in contemplation. "What are the admins thinking of?"
Vitar shrugged. "This is gameplay. They aren't breaking the rules, are they? Besides, no one really cares about this newb backwater. Smart players come here to form groups, do the main quest, hit level 10 and go directly for the instance. At level 10, mobs are quite doable there. Such players avoid PKs as best they can."
"These two, how far is their resurrection point?"
"Who knows? You really think they would tell me something like that? If you're afraid of them attacking you again, I don't think they'll do so. There's no one on the Isles who could take you on now. Besides, all their gear's gone."
"And how about those two from the village?"
"You mean Blue Beard and Catatonic? Nah, they can't come here. They've fallen out with Gloom."
"How about Dreadlock?"
"They're over there now," he nodded at the Fort. "They left to do the instance right after Gloom had robbed them."
I sighed. "I see."
Now I could understand why Dreadlock hadn't been replying to my messages. "Very well, then. You're free to go, as promised."
Vitar shrank toward the bush in disbelief.
The state he was in! Those bastards had really put the fear of God into him. He seemed to be seriously afraid of me taking it out on him. Strangely enough, I felt sorry for him despite all his treachery.
I watched as he scrambled into the woods, then went back to finish checking out the chests. As I packed the loot into my bag, I kept sensing his stare on me.
"Ah, whatever. I would have dumped it anyway," I mumbled, scooping up my entire Guardian kit and throwing it to the ground.
I added a few rings, bracelets and a fishing rod. Someone might say the traitor wasn't worth even that. Maybe not. In any case, it was my decision and my stuff. I could do whatever I wanted with it.
Now I was well and truly finished here. Time to bid my farewell to these hospitable lands.
Chapter Seventeen
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Gosh, I missed this crazy gaming bustle. My prolonged solitude was beginning to show. This little seaside town, eloquently dubbed Balmy Bay, was peaceful and sort of welcoming. Although a far cry from the Maragar Citadel with its frantic chatrooms, it was exactly what I needed at the moment.
Because I'd chosen this location beforehand, it hadn't taken me long to activate the teleportation scroll. But first, I'd logged out.
Surprisingly, I hadn't felt at all tired. For several reasons. My Bronze account, my current level, my gear and the state-of-the-art capsule — all that had made my recuperation a breeze. I'd stayed twelve hours offline, eight of which I'd spent sleeping, followed by a nice hot shower and a long conversation with my family.
Naturally, they all celebrated my success. Dmitry for one seemed especially surprised. He said he hadn't expected me to take his words so seriously. If the truth were known, now that I'd had some rest and a chance to replay the events of the last four days in my head, I couldn't help wondering if I was indeed the person who'd performed all those feats.
&nbs
p; In any case, I was done with newb locations. I had new heights to conquer.
Now, Balmy Bay. Why this town? The reason was simple: the clan which happened to control it.
Tanor's main argument was that the Steel Shirts had their fingers in every pie. He might even have been right: who was I to argue? But somehow I doubted that everybody was prepared to accept this state of affairs. Wherever there was a strong clan's hand controlling the area, there were bound to be those unhappy about the situation.
I was right. As soon as I logged into the forum and opened its Clan Wars archive, I had all the information I needed and then some.
Apart from the winners, all wars also have losers, if you know what I mean. Quite a few of them, as I'd found out. Predictably, most of the clans that used to participate in bygone wars had long ceased to exist. Some of them had joined the Alliance while a few others had holed up in their respective backwaters and kept a low profile. Still, in their heart of hearts they secretly hated the winners.
I managed to locate a few names. The Fearless, The Steel Fists, the Power of Heaven, Thor's Hammer, the Predators. Once top clans, they now counted among those dethroned by the Alliance.
Logically, their territories would be much safer for me. Having checked the latest forum messages, I decided on Balmy Bay: a quiet beachside town in the Southern part of Mirror World, part of the Predators' territory. I couldn't have found a worse backwater if I'd tried.
No, I wasn't thinking of defecting to the Steel Shirts' defeated enemy. That would be swapping one set of troubles for another. I just needed a place where I could do my thing without being disturbed. And the Predators' lands seemed to be ideal for my purposes.
Balmy Bay was a total of twenty-three houses. Talk about a one-horse town. Even Leuton was a megalopolis in comparison. Was this the only thing the once-strongest clan had left to its name? They must have been really pissed off about it. Then again, some other clans didn't even have that.
The Way of the Outcast (Mirror World Book #3) LitRPG series Page 16