Holy War

by Sugralinov Daniel

  This was the first time I’d seen him speak with emotion. Until now, he’d always spoken mechanically. Even the Home Doctor delivered its analysis with more passion than Three.

  I sat down next to him, crossed my legs, asked:

  “And what would that item do, with its ’special enchantment’?”

  “Blow up your inventory from the inside. The bag would break, the items would either be destroyed or thrown out in the immediate area. At random.” Three materialized two bottles of ale out of thin air and offered one to me. “You’ve been beating out shards?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Grinding shards? You want to get out?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I can’t. I don’t exist in Dis’s database. But you can. How many shards do you have?”

  Seeing my hesitation, Three smiled mockingly.

  “I’ll find out either way. Nine will come here, and this time she’s going through your bags, make no mistake.”

  “Almost a million.”

  “Ooh, ‘almost’, is it? And you started from practically nothing? Your level, I mean.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Why are you trying so hard? Your original has probably already left his capsule. Perhaps you don’t know, but only an imprint of your consciousness was left behind here.”

  “I left my capsule more than once. The one here now is me, the real one.”

  “Is that so…” Three thought for a moment. I scanned his face and couldn’t figure out why it seemed so familiar to me. “Then why do you have to do all this? Shouldn’t Snowstorm have just restored your character, made you sign a confidentiality agreement? Or has someone replaced Snowstorm now? Is the game still under their control?”

  “They’ve lost their influence on Dis. The world lives and evolves. They can’t change the kernel anymore. And I badly need to get out of here as soon as possible. A lot of people are depending on me there.”

  “Well, well, this day is getting far more interesting than I planned!” Three said, grinning and nibbing his hands with glee. “Now I regret not talking to you first, before Nine. She has, you see, a very developed sense of property. Tell me your story.”

  “I don’t have time, Three. If Nine…”

  “She won’t see us, don’t worry.”

  I told him everything from the very beginning. About myself and my family, about how I met Clayton playing as the lich Dargo, and flew to Cali Bottom. About how we started working with the noncitizens, and what it all ended up becoming.

  “Right now, all the game’s top players are attacking both the temple and the undead army,” I said, ending my story. “I already offered to help Nine. I don’t know how, but I think I can do more than your Piercers.”

  “Are you sure you can deal with the player army?” Three frowned mistrustfully. “I haven’t been able to test it, but I guarantee it—you won’t take your levels out of here with you. You won’t take anything with you. Everything here is recorded only in the local database. There’s also a high probability that Dis will not accept you; it will either throw you back or erase you.”

  “But I’ll know that I did my best, Three. And if I do stay in the game, then I’ll tty to bring you guys out too! You’ve all gone insane here! Nine is a psychopath, don’t you see that?”

  “Haha, of course! But she always was that, from day one. She has a special kind of mind or some kind of warping of personality—in real life, she twisted off kittens’ heads. She’s a monster, but if she decides you’re useful, then you’ll never find a better friend. The important thing is to stay useful…” Three shook his head. “But as for me, after recent events…”

  “You mean when Nine-Six and Seven-Two attacked you?”

  “Uh-huh. Nine told you? Not like her. I’m with Twelve now, and I think she’s the only one stopping Nine from touching me. She covets a thing or two in my arsenal…” Three sighed. “Alright. How many shards are you missing?”

  “Around a thousand.”

  “Here.”

  The trade window opened. Three gave me a stack of shards, removed the dome above us and said:

  “Activate Lesser Rift.”

  I did just that. A ripple appeared in the space before me. It flexed, distorting perspective like hot air. Fantastical whirlwinds began to emerge around the site of the Rift, forming a ghostly semicircle with a surface flowing like water. Black threads showed through in places, like cracks in the fabric of reality, revealing the great nothingness of limbo. A true whirlwind formed above the semi-sphere of the Rift, sucking up dust, mud and torn grass.

  For the first time, I saw what a Nether rift looked like from within.

  Movement from the right caught my attention. Huge bubbles were inflating in the mire. The reeds rustled and mobs started crawiing out. Three casted something and a wall of flame surrounded us.

  “Listen carefully,” he said. “Nine got the ability to create a Rift when she got her First Kill in an instance called Source of the Smoldering Nether. It’s on Terrastera, if the developers didn’t change anything. How long until you unlock the continent?”

  “Normally, twenty more years. Real ones. But I gained three hundred levels in half a year.”

  “Uh-huh, because you’re a Threat?” Three hadn’t heard of the system of Threats before, and my story was new to him. “Well, alright. I’ve waited ten thousand years. I can wait more. As long as I don’t die here… Come on, the Rift could close any second. Go through. The whole swamp is on its way here. The mobs are drawn to the Rift.,’

  “What’s your name, Three?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’ll try to find you in real life.”

  “Dennis Kaverin.”

  I nodded, offered him a hand.

  “Alex Sheppard.”

  Three shook my hand and said one last thing as I entered the portal.

  “My friends used to call me Dek.”

  Chapter 11: Plague Dust

  THE TRANSFER didn’t go as smoothly as it had done atop the Ravager. I hung in transition. The world around me blurred and froze, like a washed-out speckled painting. Sound fled.

  Synchronizing… ERROR!

  Recovering current character parameters… SUCCESS!

  Checking… DISCREPANCY!

  Character level does not match zone of class Sandbox.

  Transferring to respawn point…

  Dark surrounded me. The only thing I could see were the strange system logs slowly fading from my vision. When the final line disappeared, light began to break through the mist. The world appeared, turned to color.

  I saw the columns of Behemoth’s temple standing out against the green of the jungle. It worked!

  I felt the touch of the Sleeping God’s thoughts, heard him: Hurry!

  It took me thirty seconds to examine myself and my profile and confirm that nothing from the Nether had remained. My character was in exactly the same state as when I’d gone through with Harnathea the Ravager:

  Seyth, level 30Q undead Herald

  The Unconquered Herald Set, which had been destroyed in the Nether, was back again, but that was scant comfort. I had no time to grieve—the temple was minutes from destruction.

  I shrouded myself in Cloak Essence, cast Depths Teleportation to the half-destroyed temple of Tiamat. Crash’s long corpse lay by the stairs. The temple was at two percent durability.

  There were five of them: Mogwai, Criterror and Dek (the thought flashed: Three?) had been joined by two more from the Elite, some mage girls at level three hundred and eighty with change. Dek wielded a mighty hammer and was demolishing one of the last columns left standing. The roof had already fallen in, and four of the Elite were destroying the altar. In the form of a gigantic panther, Mogwai was crushing it to gravel. Criterror and the girls worked from a distance, showering the structure with explosive arrows, bolts of lightning and shards of ice. The closest to me, an elf girl called Biancanova, was attacking with streams of
white-hot flame.

  I felt Tiamat’s presence, her sadness and pain, and tried to mentally speak to her. Her divine voice boomed in my head, full of grief: “Protect the temple. I cannot help you, Initial“I’ll handle it,” I promised the goddess.

  The first thing I did was throw Sharkon’s Mane at Mogwai to start his invulnerability timer from Path of Equanimity, then I rushed the nearest target, Biancanova, firing off a Hammerfist. To my surprise, she survived the hit and used Blink to move a short distance away, ending up ten yards from where I hit him. I roared and rushed to catch up.

  “The Threat is here!” she shouted, drawing the attention of the others.

  “Focus on the temple!” Mogwai commanded. “Don’t touch the Threat!”

  “Heroism’.” the second mage girl shouted, buffing the party.

  Spiraling golden rings encircled all the members of Elite and they suddenly sharply gained in size and speed.

  “Sheep” Biancanova muttered, pointing a finger at me.

  A short flash and the world flickered. For a fraction of a second, I turned into a white sheep. Liberation nullified it and I rushed toward the elf again. Blink was still on cooldown and this time she couldn’t get away; my first Hammerfist broke the girl’s jaw, and a Stunning Kick hit her in the ear so hard, her spine cracked. Biancanova’s head leaned unnaturally to the side and her legs failed.

  Minus one corrupter of the temple of the Sleepers, I thought, furious. I used Plague Reanimation on Biancanova’s corpse. And plus one minion!

  Then the thought of using Subjugate Mind came to me. It didn’t take long to figure out who I wanted to control. Mogwai said Criterror was a top damager. Let’s find out.

  My consciousness twinned, and I watched from two angles at once as Biancanova rose as a zombie, emitting guttural groans. As Scyth, I commanded her to attack the second mage girl, Laneiran, and attacked Mogwai, starting to take down his shield with a Combo. As Criterror, I turned in place, drew my bow and aimed an arrow into the eye of Dek the solo adventurer.

  Biancanova still had her abilities, and I had no time to think about whether control of her character had transferred to the AI or not. In any case, she fought just as effectively; her hands flowed through the air, materializing whips of concentrated flame, then she lashed Laneiran’s back to shreds.

  “Are you mad?!” the latter screamed, turning and seeing who had hit her in the back. As a newly-minted undead, Biancanova didn’t look much like a zombie yet, not counting her broken neck and lolling head. “What are you doing?!”

  In the meantime, Dek hid from Criterror behind a column and continued to destroy the temple. At my command, the archer followed after him and hit him with a volley of Rapid Shots.

  Mogwai realized the battle was going wrong and turned to me. His invulnerability was gone, and I’d managed to take away some of his mana shield while he stubbornly raked the altar with his mighty claws. Saying nothing, the hero sent me flying with a sweep of his paw, then jumped after me, pinning me to the ground and staring into my face. His cat’s eyes suddenly blurred, changing shape. The face stretched out, the body widened and grew, the paws seemed to inflate, becoming more powerful—he was transforming into a bear. I didn’t wait for the transformation to finish, instead releasing my entire supply of Sleeping Vindication, not at him in a single strike, but all around me.

  It had been so long since I last used Behemoth’s gift at full strength and in the manner of Plague Fury. I surprised myself when I saw the invisible wave of death distort perspective for hundreds of yards around. Vindication dealt damage to everything I considered merited death or destruction in an area that depended on my perception. In my case—four hundred and eighty-nine yards around.

  The fabric of reality itself broke when the wave of Sleeping Vindication spread, setting the sand alight and destroying every cell of my enemies from within. Mogwai flew from me as if torn away by a storm.

  His mana shield was practically destroyed, and before the enemy could heal himself, I flew into battle, my fists flying, paying no attention to what went on around me. On the edge of my vision, I saw Dek. He wasn’t hitting the column anymore, but fighting with Criterror—he must have decided the ’Elites’ had a traitor among them. The zombie Biancanova was fighting Laneiran furiously. At my command, Criterror attacked her too.

  Laneiran panicked, started running. Dek methodically drove Criterror’s head into his shoulders. It didn’t even take a full series of Combos to finish off Mogwai’s mana shield and start dealing direct damage. The druid, understanding that attacking would cost him dearly, managed to throw me off, then jumped onto me, pinned me down on the wreckage-strewn ground and shouted: “Dek, protect Laneiran! Lan, Dispel Criterror!”

  Blinking away from the attacks of Criterror and the undead, Laneiran managed to lift Subjugate Mind from Criterror the instant before Dek finished him off. But they forgot Biancanova, and she was casting a nidus of plasma right beneath Laneiran’s feet. The mage girl cried, screaming No-o-o-o! Minus two temple corrupters.

  The first zombie hadn’t survived her Elite colleague long, but two more rose to replace Biancanova. Plague Reanimation didn’t require contact, so I raised Criterror and Laneiran too. At my command, the archer stunned Mogwai with Paralyzing Shot. The druid somehow threw off the stun, but then another cast immediately followed and the bear turned into a sheep.

  Now both players who had turned undead attacked Dek. I decided the solo adventurer represented a greater threat to the temple than Mogwai due to his damage, and hurried to help my servants. It was essential that we finished off Dek before Mogwai turned back into a bear. We had half a minute.

  From what I understood from the class description, Dek was perfectly balanced, had no weaknesses and had twice as many stat points as anyone else at his level. It was incredible to watch him fight; the form and grace with which he dropped his mighty hammer astounded the imagination. But there was nothing he could do against the two zombie players and the Threat, not counting his parting gift.

  Seconds before his death, Dek broke the seal on a scroll and the entire area was filled with a burning, blinding light. I survived thanks to Destroying Plague Immortality, but the zombies… When the light began to fade, I saw their skeletons fall away into ash on the breeze.

  Done with Dek, now my eyes found Mogwai just as he turned back into a bear. There wasn’t enough time to do anything. He activated a mobile shield and, before I could break through the defensive membrane, teleported away, growling as he left: “Bye, loser! We’ll meet again, I promise…”

  I was left alone. The temple’s durability was now at one percent.

  There was nobody left attacking it, but the destruction process didn’t stop. The column Dek had been attacking crashed down and cracks spread throughout the altar. I couldn’t feel Tiamat’s presence.

  The clan chat exploded with messages. I didn’t read them, just wrote my own: Urgent! All builders and Gyula to the temple! It’s almost destroyed, we need repairs!

  It seemed the boys had been at the ready. Only a couple of minutes later, two Depths Teleportation casts materialized at the ruins and my friends, Gyula and the entire temple building crew arrived. Gyula nodded to me, looked around…

  “Gods damn it…” Gyula swore. He immediately started barking out commands.

  In the meantime, he unloaded his tools and materials, touched the altar and started his repairs. Spreading out around the perimeter, the other workers got to work.

  The boys surrounded me and started talking all at once.

  “They used sixArmageddons to take out Deznafar!”

  “But he managed to kill off half the preventer army!”

  “A ton of PuGs turned up too and someone from the Alliance threw an Armageddon at them!”

  “Are you going to help our troops?” Infect answered.

  “Ours?” I laughed. “Two legates in one area cancels out Immortality. The lich will do just fine without me. Tiamat’s temple is more important now.
”

  “The guards and Sharkon are protecting Shazz!”

  The guards! Embarrassingly enough, I’d completely forgotten about them. I rose to jump to the Stronghold of the Destroying Plague.

  But then a stream of notifications hit me:

  Player Biancanova, level 382 mage, has decided to join the Desti’oying Plague.

  Player Criterror, level 389 archer, has decided to join the Destroying Plague.

  Player Laneiran, level 37Q mage, has decided to join the Destroying Plague.

  The game interface message made it clear what was happening to the turned players. Or rather, ‘has decided’ gave me a hint. It seemed that once they became undead, they were under my control until their first death, but then they got a choice: change faction and race or resurrect as normal. That made sense. Snowstorm made the introduction of the new race a little easier by allowing those turned the choice.

  The counter in my quest from the Nucleus to turn the top players undead still remained the same: 0/9. Apparently, these three didn’t count, and the Nucleus needed the absolute strongest.

  “I’ll fetch the guards,” I told my friends. “Once I’m back, we’ll assemble a new undead army to protect the temple from player attacks. You hide somewhere off to the side and call me at the first sign of an attack. Mogwai might have left some anchor here to let him open a portal.

  Depths Teleportation…

  * * *

  The Stronghold of the Destroying Plague stood empty and looked peaceful, but the horizon burned with lightning strikes and spells from all schools of magic. I summoned Storm and flew there.

  Far away from me, a dune suddenly rose into the air, trembled and condensed into an elongated triangle around half a mile long. The structure of the sand changed. It began to flow under pressure, turning transparent and gleaming with diamond facets, stretching out into a long spear. An invisible hand drew it back and threw it… I only saw who it was aimed at exactly when I approached and surveyed the battlefield unfolding a couple of miles away.