The Way of the Outcast (Mirror World Book #3) LitRPG series

by Alexey Osadchuk

"I vouched for you to the others," the dwarf said bitterly.

  "I know!" the gnome moved closer to the dwarf and shook him amiably by the shoulder. "I'll make it worth your while! You're gonna see! I'll level up good, just like Pilot! Then money will start flowing in!"

  "Yeah right," the dwarf snorted. "Until the next time."

  "No, really, I promise! I know now. You'd better tell me if you've heard anything about Pilot. I've been too tired to check the forums just lately. I just don't get enough shut-eye."

  The ginger-headed dwarf nodded. "Pilot! Apparently, the Lords of Chaos have blacklisted him. They say they've put a reward on his head."

  "The Lords of Chaos? Not them too?"

  "Yeah. Nobody says much about it, you understand. The only thing I know for sure is that he's ruined their No-Man's Lands raid."

  "No way!"

  "Well, there you have it. Take my advice: don't be too quick on the draw. You have a lot of leveling to do before you become one like him. Some guys said he used to work in the mines with them. They said he had the worst possible gear and had to lug the rocks all the way up from the lower levels — and still he outperformed them hands down!"

  The video stopped. I looked up at Rrhorgus. A cheerful smile lit up his green face. His eyes laughed.

  "I taped this a few hours ago in a tavern in Leuton," he said. "I thought you might like it."

  I heaved a sigh. "You can say that. That was quite an eye-opener. Pilot! When did they come up with this moniker?"

  "A few days ago," he said. "I'll tell you later. Your turn to talk."

  The story of my latest escapades didn't take long. Rrhorgus listened to me open-mouthed, unblinking, gulping occasionally whenever I mentioned my loot or the resources I'd farmed.

  "And once you dropped the Erezes onto their wagons, what happened then?"

  "Nothing. They took me out before I could even get properly scared."

  "They smoked you?" he asked in disbelief.

  "Sure. Took Furius two arrows to get to us. Both me and Boris."

  "Vindictive bastard. And what happened then?"

  "Then I came round in a nice secret cave stark naked. I'd made it my resurrection point just in case."

  He nodded his approval. "Good idea."

  "I thought I'd die there in the three hours it took," I shuddered at the memory.

  "Were you waiting for Boris to respawn?"

  "Yeah."

  "Why three hours? Shouldn't it be six?" he asked, surprised. "But of course! He's Relic, isn't he?"

  I nodded. "Exactly. So we hurried back ASAP, right across the mountains."

  "How did you manage to keep your gear?"

  "Oh," I smiled. "By accident."

  He giggled. "You and your accidents!"

  I grinned. "Furius, if you remember, shot us down when we were directly above the cliff. So that's where the chest with my stuff landed, isn't it?"

  "So he failed to rob you! Good. And you know what? I have a funny feeling you took his gear in the end."

  I shrugged and said with a deadpan face, "Sorry about that."

  The glee on his green face gave way to sadness. "Dammit. What a shame."

  "For him, yeah."

  "You bastard!" Rrhorgus beamed, his vast brow breaking into a happy sweat. "Come on, don't drag it out!"

  "So basically, I came down to the battlefield. It was empty already. Both the Darks and the Calteans were gone."

  "So who won the fight, then?"

  "I discovered the traces of a Caltean funeral pyre on the river bank. Which means they must have. I didn't get any XP while waiting in the cave. You probably must be present at the battlefield to earn it. Still, I managed to do a few levels in the time it took me to launch the traps and the Erezes."

  "I can see that! 52 already! Well done!" he patted my shoulder.

  "Thanks."

  "So what have you got for the old man?" he moved on to business.

  "The Darks' chests were already gone. But their wagons were still there."

  Rrhorgus rubbed his green hands. Was it my imagination or he'd smacked his lips — exactly how cartoon frogs do when seeing a nice fat fly.

  "They'd been farming for several days already," I said. "Lots of stuff in those wagons. The way I see it, the Darks' scouts must have collected their chests as well as the most valuable stuff from the wagons. They couldn't have had enough place in their bags to retrieve it all. My backpack is about to burst. Only you know... I don't feel good about it. It's not my stuff..."

  "Oh, give it a break," he interrupted me. "You're the winner. These are your legitimate trophies! That's how it works here. This is gameplay. It's either you smoke them or they smoke you. Besides, they knew very well what they were doing crossing into No-Man's Lands. It's every man for himself there. No skin off your nose."

  "I understand. But still it doesn't feel right."

  Rrhorgus spent the next hour checking the trophies, tut-tutting his approval. Judging by the look on his face, we were doing well.

  "It might be a good idea to hold on to these thingies for a while," he said, closing his bag. "Too many conspicuous items. Either that or I'll have to auction them anonymously — but this, as you well understand, is not exactly the same kind of money as selling them through a legitimate vendor."

  "I always thought the auction brings up the best money."

  "To sell regular stuff, yeah maybe. Definitely not rare items. At auction, the buyer you need might not have the necessary sum available."

  What a strange notion. "Then he's not what I need, is he?"

  "Olgerd, dude. Good job you're not a vendor."

  "Why would I need to be? I have you, don't I?"

  "There're many ways of getting a good price for an item. You could sell it on credit. Or just loan it out. It's just like in real life. Yes, you might need to wait for your money but in the end it might be well worth it. All right, so some dude doesn't have the funds readily available. But he might be able to pay in installments plus the few percent interest. I do him a favor and he pays for it. Fair enough."

  "All this is way over my head," I admitted.

  "Good for you. In any case, here's a detailed list of all my services including the interest. Just to keep you on top of it. Would you like me to transfer the money to your account or do you prefer cash? Oh, and here're some scrolls for you, a few bits of steel and some other odds and ends."

  Finally we sorted everything out. I leaped into the saddle. Rrhorgus dramatically wiped an imaginary tear. "Off you go, my golden goose!"

  I rolled my eyes. With a farewell wave of my hand, I took to the skies.

  * * *

  As I returned to the Caltean camp, I had plenty of time to think over a few things. The biggest of which was, What now? Or to put it more precisely, How am I supposed to pull this off?

  The trade routes map was perfectly blank now. The Ennan Masters' locations were gone. The only point still marked on it was the Twilight Castle.

  How could you expect me to storm its dungeons — with only a rusty scarab and a couple of fleas for company? Somehow I didn't think so. There, it was a totally different ball game. True, the scarab wasn't rusty anymore and I'd even doubled the number of fleas — but still I was far below the level required to tackle that part of the world.

  What if sacrificing myself for the Calteans' victory had been a stupid thing to do? Should I have kept my distance instead, loosing off slugs at the combatants from the safety of some cliff? I could have summoned both Boris and Prankie — that way they could have gotten their share of XP, too. All three of us could have leveled like a dream — I could have been level 70 now at least. Boris and Prankie could have gotten themselves a new skill each.

  What about the dead Calteans, you might say? Oh... for some people that might not even be a problem. This was only a game, after all. Besides, there were plenty of Calteans still left in the camp: warriors, women, children and elders. I could have continued using them to aggro various mobs and receive t
he XP without having to lift a finger.

  And then what? What was I supposed to do next, once I'd dispensed with the entire Caltean tribe? What a stupid question. Furius had already given me a tip, albeit unwittingly. All I had to do was fly over No-Man's Lands monitoring any potential combats, then looting the victims. How difficult was that? No risk, definitely no expenses. Just pure profits.

  My blood ran cold with the prospect. If the game developers really thought I was capable of any of that — well, then they had another thing coming.

  Dmitry had been right, though. The Calteans were my only lead. Then I'd have to play it by ear.

  I couldn't help thinking about everything that had happened just lately. No more lying low. I'd given myself too much exposure. They'd even hung a nickname on me! Lance the Rightie had a point: I'd had no idea how popular the wretched Fort trip had made me.

  The Steel Shirts, the Lords of Chaos... I was in it deep now. The Dark players had put a price on my head. I'd forgotten to ask Rrhorgus how much it actually was. Then again, what difference did it make?

  Tanor's letters had stopped. For a few days already, he preserved a dignified silence. Apparently, the period of the proverbial carrot was over.

  I'd had to delete myself from all of my friends' lists — Rrhorgus being the only exception. I didn't want to hurt anyone. Once I was out of this mess, I might reconnect with them, so that we could all get together and have a good time. They were all smart enough to understand. Especially because this wasn't the first time I'd had to do this.

  BY THE TIME I GOT to the main Caltean camp it was already dark.

  And a beautiful night it was, too. Not a cloud in the sky. The boundless deep heavens were bestrewn with billions of stars like some celestial lightbugs. The Moon was going off the scale.

  The sheer novelty of it felt like a warning. It was as if the skies of Mirror World had been chosen to deliver a message, announcing new changes due to arrive.

  Finally, the camp. The cliffs around it resembled the jaws of a giant monster about to devour the tiny bugs crawling at its base.

  Way below, dozens of campfires illuminated the foot of the cliff. The one in the middle was especially large. Even from where I stood, I could make out the many Caltean figures surrounding it.

  Boris and I began our descent.

  I could hear voices from below, multiplied by the echo. Although I couldn't make out the words, I got the impression they were addressing me.

  That's right. More voices joined in.

  Finally, I could see. They were the Owls' sentries waving to me.

  I was about to wave back when a new system message popped up into view,

  Warning! You've encroached on a Caltean Clan Union camp!

  Wow! A union, already? That was quick!

  There was definitely something going on in the camp. Something important. I'd only just noticed that everybody seemed to have already packed up. That's right. Hadn't Laosh ordered everyone to get ready by the time we came back from our recon mission?

  The big question was, where were they supposed to go? Or where we were supposed to go, rather. That was the million-dollar question indeed. It was probably what their elders were discussing now by that large fire in the middle. Good timing.

  I soared over the camp, seeing their faces smile as they turned in my direction. Kids were screaming their excitement. They were happy to see me back, weren't they? Really happy. This was night and day compared to my first visit here. Admittedly it felt awesome.

  Sensing my good mood, Boris flew low above the ground, his broad wings spread wide, his ashen-color armor emitting a dull glow in the light of the campfires like a dragon's scaly hide. He was showing off, the bastard!

  The Calteans actually seemed to like it. They reached out without fear, hoping to touch the regal animal. He was truly handsome: a Night Hunter any way you looked at him.

  The elders by the main fire gave me a standing greeting. Just as I'd thought, I saw all of both clans' leading figures. My friends were beaming. Was it my impression or Droy's face was about to erupt in a happy smile?

  I met Laosh's gaze. So he'd survived, after all. He'd lost some weight and looked older — but he'd come back, that was the main thing. We exchanged friendly nods. I just hoped he could forget the old grudges and look forward to our new cooperation.

  Droy opened up his arms to me as I sprang from the saddle. My shoulders were plastered with hearty slaps.

  "Hey, give it a break, guys. You're gonna beat me to death!" I croaked. Not much chance of that, though. They apparently would much sooner have smothered me with their bear hugs.

  "He's alive!" Droy eased me aside, his hands still on my shoulders. "How is it possible? I saw you fall to your death on the cliffs!"

  That explained it. "Yeah right, dream on," I replied.

  The Calteans guffawed, doubling their shoulder-slapping efforts. Each and every member of our group wanted to tell me everything they thought about my miraculous return from the dead. Shame they did so using expressions one can't repeat in polite society.

  Had they known how right they were about my return from the dead...

  The constant jingling of system messages accompanied their show of affection. Only when they'd finally left me alone and seated me at a place of honor by the fire, was I able to open the chat window.

  Every word I read took my breath away. My heart was about to explode.

  Congratulations! You've been awarded the Order of Recognition for outstanding services rendered to the Red Owls Clan!

  For your information: the Order of Recognition is awarded to a player who has collected 500 pt. of the Reputation in question.

  Congratulations! You've been awarded the Order of Friendship for outstanding services rendered to the Red Owls Clan!

  For your information: the Order of Friendship is awarded to a player who has collected 1000 pt. of the Reputation in question.

  Congratulations! You've been awarded the Order of Respect for outstanding services rendered to the Red Owls Clan!

  For your information: the Order of Respect is awarded to a player who has collected 2000 pt. of the Reputation in question.

  Congratulations! You've been awarded the Order of Recognition for outstanding services rendered to the Caltean Clan Union!

  For your information: the Order of Recognition is awarded to a player who has collected 500 pt. of the Reputation in question.

  Warning! For your assistance to the enemies of Mellenville you've been stripped of all its Reputation points, awards and signs of merit!

  The warning was followed by an impressive list of all the major Mellenville NPCs whose friendship I'd lost. Gard and Tronus were on it too.

  My heart missed a beat as I glanced at my Awards tab.

  Phew. Big sigh of relief. The Orders of Heroic Strength and Zombie Slayer were still there, untouched. Apparently, they were awarded regardless of a player's affiliations. My Reputation with Mellenville, however, that I had so laboriously been piecing together, glowed a discouraging zero.

  That was it, then. There was no way I could go back to the capital. Any Mellenville guard would consider it his sacred duty to smoke me.

  Did I feel disappointed? Not really. I'd known it would happen sooner or later. I would simply have to be ready to face the animosity of their office workers, that was all. Then again, what office workers? All they had was machines and terminals.

  Still, it didn't look as if I was going to get any more discounts from their NPC shop owners. I could still use the auction, however.

  That was logical. I hadn't swapped sides. I'd only lost my Reputation with the capital city. Could happen to anyone.

  The Black Axes weren't as enthusiastic in meeting me as the Owls had been. Still, they seemed quite happy to see me. My crazy stunt over the Darks' wagons had had its effect: I was now the proud owner of 300 pt. Reputation with the Black Axes clan.

  The ice was broken. Time to look deeper into the situation.

 
I closed the chat window and tried to focus on what the clan's best warriors were saying.

  "We need to send out scouts back to the Silver Mountain Valley," a large Caltean said. His name was Latis.

  Judging by the clothes he was wearing, he was neither a warrior nor a wizard. He didn't look like a farmer, either. Was he a craftsman? He was broad-shouldered, with spadelike hands and a hammer stuck under his belt. Yes, a craftsman, definitely.

  "What about the Nocteans?" Amcy the Rake objected.

  He was one of our guys, skinny and wrapped head to toe in animal skins. Definitely a reindeer breeder.

  "Nocteans don't stay long in the areas they conquer," a short guy pointed out. His name was Pritus.

  So! Just look at him! He was a bespectacled intellectual just like myself! He looked admittedly alien next to the rugged warrior and cattle-breeder types.

  A long black cloak shrouded his figure. A large beret framed his long face. His intelligent eyes studied everyone from behind the glasses of his small pince-nez. I was dead sure he had a whole pile of books in that backpack of his. How interesting.

  The others engaged in a heated discussion. Apparently, the short Pritus guy enjoyed a considerable authority here.

  Could he be the one responsible for putting the trebuchets together? There had to be a reason for him being invited to the council.

  "Pritus is right," the gray-bearded Crym boomed. "We shouldn't have left our old home at all. It was this constant shamanic squabble. They're never happy, always fighting between themselves, and we pay the price."

  The Black Axes hummed their approval, casting unfriendly glances at Laosh who shivered under their stares.

  Surprisingly, Droy jumped to his defense. "You're dead right there, Crym. May I only add that it was the shamans from Under the Mountain who kept winding him up. To the best of my knowledge, Laosh wanted us to unite and face the Nocteans with weapons in our hands. It was your leaders who chose otherwise."

  Droy's authority had considerably grown. Both clans' eyes were upon him, their expression very similar to adoration.