Chapter 7
Around ten years ago I was no stranger to five-mile walks. I would look at the owners of expensive cars with a little bit of envy, trying to convince myself that long walks were really good for your health and that you could read your favorite books aboard public transit, not to mention plan your route from point A to point B with fifteen-minute accuracy. Everything changed at once as soon as I bought my first car. The pedestrian inside me was replaced by an avid driver. All my former convictions vanished—I no longer found Moscow's numerous traffic jams intimidating, and audiobooks were hardly inferior to their printed counterparts in any way.
I left Nittal in the morning through the Northern Gate, and started to contemplate buying some means of transportation for the umpteenth time as I wound my way around the motley and rambunctious crowd of demons that had gathered near the entrance to the city.
You could only learn the Riding skill upon reaching the hundredth level by spending five talent points on it. I had completely forgotten about this useful skill when planning my leveling. Still, I had four unallocated points in reserve, so it shouldn't be a problem.
Purchasing a mount fit for riding was never considered cheap in this game, but it wasn't much of an impediment in my case—I had money. I wonder how much Lirrak paid for his riding lizard? I thought to myself. Mounts that could assist their owner in battle were valued a great deal more than the regular kind. It would be unwise to skimp on such a helper in my case, and I made a firm decision to visit the city market and take a look at what the local "automotive industry" had to offer upon returning to Nittal.
Rioh's father had mentioned a shortcut to their village leading across farmlands, but I instantly decided against taking it. Meandering between orchards and vegetable patches dug by the locals? Spare me. It would be much easier to take the road that would definitely bring me to my destination, even if it meant walking a few extra miles.
Some three miles out of the city the road became nearly empty of travelers. I was walking along the roadside and thinking about the last quest I'd received. Who could this Leeque be? An envoy of the God of Thieves—or, perhaps, Hart himself? An envoy, most likely. However, the stranger in black was most likely Vill, the God of Torturous Death, who was none too likely to be overjoyed with people trying to raid his vaults. Granted, the gods must conform to the laws of the game just like everybody else, but an irate dark deity could still give you a whole lot of trouble. Given the lack of a logout button and real-life levels of pain sensitivity, this could present a serious problem. Vill could not just appear in the middle of the road, grab me by the scruff of the neck and drag me to his torture chamber, of course, but the bastard had lots of followers in Arkon perfectly capable of doing exactly that. Anyway, I'd pull through no matter what—that creature in the black cassock reminded me of an old acquaintance I intended to get to sooner or later, so I'd gladly help anyone who decided to kick his divine ass.
In the meantime, the lovely landscape comprised of well-tended gardens and orchards, which had managed to become quite tedious by now, came to an end near the wide stone bridge mentioned by the senior coachman. Across lay a sunlit pine wood; the main road to town ran right through it. A crooked wooden post on the roadside had a warped sign nailed to it, showing the direction to the village that I needed.
As I crossed the bridge, I entered a new location: "The Environs of the Ghorazm Ruins, 70-80," I read in the log. Great! The ruins themselves must be an instance dungeon with a level 80 final boss. Since Leeque had told me that nothing here would be beyond my powers, this wasn't a raid dungeon but rather the regular variety, designed for a group of three to five players. Therefore, I should reach level 85-90 before I venturing into it. What I needed was to complete all the quests available in the village and grind away at the local mobs day after day. I should be able to reach level 80 quickly enough, but then the amount of experience received for wasting mobs would diminish. The only way for a player to receive experience in the realm of Arkon was to have a level gap of ten or less between themselves and the creatures they killed. I shrugged and thought to myself, No matter! I had loads of time, anyway.
A windmill appeared before me, followed by roofs of different colors, and, finally, after the road's last bend, the village itself—a large settlement without any palisade around it. A rather wide river ran through the valley behind the vegetable patches—the same I'd crossed some twenty minutes ago.
"Greetings! Would you please tell me how to find the local mayor?" I asked an old demon, who was sitting on a bench next to the last house, absorbed in carving something on a piece of wood on his lap.
"Head that-a-way," the old man waved in the direction of the village center. "Gilim's house is right behind the inn."
In that case, I'll go to the inn first, thought I to myself, heading toward the center of the village.
Urcahnta was nothing like the villages described by the Russian classics—there were no signs of poverty or squalor. The houses were sturdy and well-built, with carvings decorating the blinds and the gables, testifying to the wealth of the locals. You could hear the banging of hammers from several directions, barnyard fowl was loudly complaining of something, and a number of cows drank turbid yellow water from a shallow muddy pond. The village seemed to be going about its daily business—the only thing that caught my attention was the absence of children on the streets. Two young demons in untucked loose gray tunics and brown trousers tucked into their high boots were rolling an enormous wheel in my direction—for a cart, most likely—and cursing under their breath. When they saw me, they both froze with their mouths wide open; the wheel slipped out of their hands and landed in a puddle on the road. I nodded to them, getting around them from the right-hand side, and kept on walking with a smile on my face, listening to the curses coming from behind.
Urcahnta's entire social and political life took place on the small square in the center of the village. The well, which played the part of the local media, was adorned with carvings and stood in front of a small inn. The well-built two-story house with a crane-like bird carved on its gable must have been the residence of the local governing bodies.
Behind the massive, iron-plated doors of the inn lay a small dining hall supported by carved wooden posts. The silver-headed innkeeper with the face of someone who had long ago become one with the Tao glanced over me indifferently, took my money and gave me the key to a room on the second floor. I decided to waste no time in the inn—I wanted to see the local fiends as soon as possible, so I left the moment I had the key in my pocket.
Gilim, the mayor of Urcahnta, looked a bit like the crane that was carved on the gable of his house. Thin and long of nose, he stood well over six foot. Gilim invited me in as soon as he found out who I was. He yelled to his daughters to set the table as soon as we entered, gestured me to a wide bench near the window, and proceeding to seat himself on a tall and narrow stool.
You've completed the quest: Trouble in Urcahnta I.
I didn't receive much experience for this quest, but I hadn't been expecting much in the first place. I refused the meal, but agreed to have a beer with the the owner.
"Harn just wouldn't shut up about you, Master Krian." Gilim was flattering me—I wasn't a master of any sort. "I didn't believe you'd turn up, but it appears Harn was telling the truth when he said you were a decent sort and would definitely keep your promise. It's near impossible to live in the village these days. There are more and more fiends with every day, and if it hadn't been for Master Neyl's punishers, those creatures would be crawling all over the village at night," the mayor sighed heavily. "Well then, master mage, will you help our village? The city authorities have sent fifty gold coins to be awarded to anyone who slays the lich."
"What lich?"
"When Master Ritter's seeker came to the village with a group of the punishers, he said there was a lich in the ruins. He'd made a few rounds of the village, asked the local folk some questions, and then went back. We'd thought they'
d send us more men to help out, but they decided to send gold instead." Gilim made a helpless gesture. "However, no one really wants to venture in there. But you should manage it perfectly well, I think. Harn has told me how you saved an entire caravan from a monster."
You've accessed the quest: Trouble in Urcahnta II.
Quest type: normal, chain.
Bring Mayor Gilim the head of the dead mage from the Ghorazm Ruins.
Reward: experience, 50 gold.
Attention! To complete this quest you will need at least two allies.
Hmm, the governing AI must apply a filter of some sort to such dungeons—players could get in easily, but NPCs could not. Some NPCs may be able to enter such instances without any problems, but it appeared that punishers sent from the city couldn't get in.
In the meantime, two of the host's daughters—clad in red skirts and white embroidered blouses, and as tall and thin as their father—wasted no time setting the table with what simple snacks they could find, occasionally casting such glances in my direction that I almost blushed.
I took a long pull from the tankard given to me by the host and nodded as I accepted the quest.
"All right, then!" Gilim sighed with relief. "Here's to your success, master mage!" The mayor saluted me with his tankard.
We raised a toast to luck, and I hastened to bid him farewell.
A lich, eh, thought I to myself as I left the mayor's house. Actually, I cared little whether it was a lich or an Arabian princess. Actually, no—no Arabian princesses, please. Yesterday's encounter with Dara was still fresh in my memory. A lich was much better indeed—no extraneous eroticism that way.
Sure, fifty gold was small change to me by this point, but it was time to get used to regular quests received in locations corresponding to my level. After all, for this kind of location this price for clearing out a dungeon was a high enough reward. And the fact that I got lucky with the money in the beginning doesn't mean this kind of luck will stay with me, I concluded with just the tiniest bit of self-deceit, for the quests I had in my log implied otherwise.
Sure enough, the only quest from the list I could really handle right now was the one I received from Leeque, but, as the ancient wisdom goes, "there's always a catch!" The envoy of the God of Deceit and Trickery had entrusted me with stealing some thingamajig from the God of Torturous Death. The quest reeked of trouble—even if I managed to accomplish everything, I couldn't be sure of receiving a just reward. I tried to avoid thinking about the possibility of failure—the sight of a dismembered body on that table was still fresh before my eyes.
"Master Krian! Master Krian, I knew you would come!" Rioh must have learned of my arrival somehow—he was waiting for me at the square.
The women standing near the well stopped chatting and turned in my direction with visible curiosity.
"If you keep shouting about it like that, the whole village will soon know it, too," I smiled. The young demon's unfeigned joy was nice to see.
"Duh, let them! Come to our place, master mage, it's right nearby."
"Actually, I was planning to check out the local fiends," I tried to extricate myself.
"Oh, come on, master mage! We've been waiting! Mom has a present for you—her way of saying thanks for me and pop, as it were. Fiends can wait! Come along, will you?"
"Oh, all right. Let's go," I waved my hand resignedly.
I only managed to end my visit in about an hour and a half. Harn's wife—a stout demoness by the name of Sinta—had put so much food on the table that it would suffice to feed a company of soldiers. I ended up receiving a set of clothes as a present, and Harn also advised me to visit the local sorcerer, who, he said, would have an interesting assignment for me.
Well, the visit wasn't a waste of time, after all, I thought as I walked towards the residence of Peotius, the local luminary. Books that I'd read often portrayed protagonists slaying dozens of bad guys as little more than killing machines. Without fear and beyond reproach… And also devoid of emotion. What some authors tended to forget completely was that unless a person was a total sociopath, they absolutely had to possess the need for others to treat them as actual human beings. I knew nothing of how I'd change here over the course of time, but I would hate to lose this need for human warmth and turn into a humanoid beast.
The local sorcerer's house was located on the northern edge of the village—you could see the punishers' outpost on the road to the Ghorazm Ruins from his gate. With the thought that I shouldn't forget to take the quest to eliminate the nearby fiends from the captain, I entered the yard.
I crossed a clean and well-tended garden with a pavilion amid the trees and knocked on the door. I didn't have to wait long—in about five minutes the door was opened by a rather quaint character: he looked no older than thirty, was bold, with slightly elongated pointy ears and large green eyes. The sorcerer had the level of 210. He was of medium height, a little shorter than me. I must have interrupted him during some experiment, since he was wearing a leather apron all covered in stains and a mask resembling a respirator. A waft of different smells rolled over me from the open door, with the aroma of ammonia prevailing.
"Come in," the sorcerer stepped to the side, letting me in as soon as I'd introduced myself. He showed me into a small but well-lit room. "I'll finish in a moment—give me five minutes," he asked.
The village sorcerer wasn't merely a healer and an alchemist—he was clearly interested in herbalism, as I surmised from the numerous plant catalogs on his shelves and a well-tended garden in the yard.
The sorcerer wasn't away for too long—he returned to the room without the apron or the mask, wiping his hands meticulously with a piece of rag.
"I have an exam in ten days, so I have to prepare," he said. "How do you like our village?"
"A lovely place," I replied. "Harn told me you might have something for me."
I had no wish to linger, having wasted enough time already.
"Sure," he nodded. "You see, Krian, whatever happened in the ruins has had an odd effect on the local fauna. There is some sort of a disease—it doesn't affect beings of our level of sentience, but instantly transforms animals weighing around 50-60 pounds into aggressive walking corpses." The sorcerer put the rag aside, locked his fingers together on the table, and continued. "Domesticated animals remain unaffected by the disease, and this is something I cannot understand."
"So where do I come in?"
"I need tissue samples from several representatives of the local fauna for my research. I shall give you a few Medium Invisibility Potions in return."
You've accessed the quest: Samples for Research.
Quest type: normal.
Bring Peotius the sorcerer ten blighted tissue samples taken from each of the following species: boars, wolves, and bears.
Reward: experience, 2 Medium Invisibility Potions.
I accepted the quest and quickly said my goodbyes. I went out, visited the local graveyard, which was the spitting image of the one in Lamorna, set a bind point, and only then proceeded to the punisher camp for my quest.
A wide canopy held by six supports, about a dozen wooden cots, a pot on a tripod, a few tables and benches, and three odd-looking constructions made of medium-sized logs and resembling anti-tank obstacles. One had to be very generous to call this an outpost—it looked more like a cookhouse.
Captain Neyl, woken up by one of the legionaries, washed his face in a small roadside pond, and approached me, yawning all the while.
"So you plan to take a stroll to the ruins, eh?" asked the captain in a hoarse low voice after giving me the once-over. He looked around fifty—a shaved head with a long topknot and a droopy mustache gave the captain an uncanny resemblance to the cossacks from the books I'd read in my childhood, with the exception of gray horns on either side of his cranium.
"Yes, and I'd like to find out what I'm likely to expect. I have also heard that Master Ritter has put a bounty on the local fiends."
"The first impress
ion you get is that there's nothing of substance there—on the surface, at least. We didn't check out the swamp, but we did go all the way to the ruins," Neyl shrugged. "Blighted land begins right across those trees," he pointed to a small copse some nine hundred feet away. "You mostly encounter pigs on your way to the ruins. No idea where so many have come from—we've never had anything like those numbers before," the captain shrugged again. "You can find wolves and bears if you go farther into the woods. You mostly find regular fiends right next to the ruins. As for the reward…"
You've accessed the quest: Rid the Territory of Blighted Pigs.
Quest type: normal, recurring.
Bring 20 tails of blighted boars to Captain Neyl.
Reward: experience, 1 gold.
I received identical quests involving wolf and bear tails—I had to bring fifteen and ten of each, respectively. There were also two undead quests—the captain paid a gold coin for ten skulls or five severed zombie arms.
"Another thing," Neyl frowned and looked aside. "Things aren't all that cheery over there," he sighed. "When the whole thing started, the locals tried to clean up the territory by themselves. But then the hunters started to disappear—the village lost seven of them back then. Me and my boys have made a few sorties to the ruins, but we didn't encounter anything substantial along the way." Neyl looked toward the copse. "You take good care when you get there. If you see anything, call me and the boys, and we'll help. There's not much hope for the locals," he waved dismissively. "They had a few reckless guys, but those disappeared a week ago. There was one hell of a thunderstorm that night, and you could hear some strange roaring coming from that direction."
"I see," I nodded. "Thanks for the warning, Neyl. Tell me, is it true that the fiends try to make their way into the village every night?"
"Nah, the mayor likes to put on a scare," the captain chuckled. "We eliminate anything we see up to the very copse. Should something wander in at night, a single slash of the sword takes care of it."
Beyond the copse pointed out to me by Neyl there were fields on either side of the road, where the locals used to grow their crops. Now these fields were but enormous rectangles of wilted vegetation, with numerous pigs of a revolting bluish color roaming them in groups of three. Each was about four feet tall. Patches of skin hung from their sides, and you could see ribs where the flesh had rotted through. It made for a revolting sight. The beasts were around level 70-75, so I had no worries whatsoever. I said to myself, Let's get started. I took the shield from my back into my left hand, clenched the handle of the sword with my right, stepped off the path and cautiously set toward the group I'd chosen.
Earth Shackles bound the two beasts the furthest from me. The third pig, or, rather, boar, going by the tusks on its lower jaw, snorted loudly and started to hop in my direction. Some ten yards off the creature accelerated all of a sudden, covering the remaining distance in the blink of an eye and plunging its tusks into the small of my back with an upward motion. The pain made me clench my teeth, and I barely managed to stay on my feet. I slashed at the boar's neck with Ice Blade—not the best strike I could have managed, but it took a quarter of the beast's HP. I used my shield to block the next attack, and then lashed out at the squealer with Tongue of Flame. I landed a critical blow—the boar wheezed and slowly fell to the side. A stench of burning rotten flesh filled the air.
A few seconds later, the two remaining pigs were released from the hold of my Earth Shackles, and they started to trot toward me confidently. Having learned of their ability the hard way, I hid behind the carcass of my first victim, preventing the attackers from dashing in my direction, and greeted the first beast with the well-familiar Ice Blade—right in the snout. I blocked the counterattack with my shield, used Tongue of Flame, another parry with the shield, and the second pig slowed down for a moment as it had to trot around its fallen comrade. I hit it with an Ice Blade and then jumped aside to replenish my energy a bit.
I covered myself with the shield against the advancing piggies, blocked the dash of the one that had full HP, and finished off the wounded one. Then I killed the last one with four blows, parrying its counterattacks, took a deep breath and held it, waiting for the pain to abate.
I decided against using a vial with a healing potion—it was best to be frugal with those. They only worked once a minute, anyway, so I'd only use them as a last resort. I recovered my HP in about 15 seconds. With Raey's earring, my HP regeneration out of combat was a little over two percent per tick. Just standing next to these carcasses reeking of putrefaction was already revolting, but I had to approach and touch each of them with my hand to collect the loot. I didn't find anything special on the carcasses—each contained a tail and a tissue sample. The boar also had a pair of tusks, but I doubted those cost more than a few coppers.
The result was far from encouraging—I got less than one percent of experience, and the pack of pigs cost me nearly a third of my HP, but that was with me nearly going all out, and with my Toughness being a whopping 33%. It took me about thirty seconds to kill all three pigs, but I felt no immediate desire to challenge the next pack—it's hard to force yourself into such a masochistic activity.
I found one thing rather weird—this time I felt pain throughout the battle, but my fights with skhiarta's brood and the giant wolf were different. You didn't need too many smarts to see why—the previous times my system was pumping out enormous loads of adrenaline and I truly hated my adversaries. As for the pigs, I merely saw them as regular quest mobs containing tails, tissue samples and other crap of the same sort.
No, that wouldn't do. They were no mere mobs! These beasts were in the way of my revenge! I cast Shackles on two pigs, binding them with the spell. Then I leaped at the boar before it could dash at me and struck out with Ice Blade. These beasts stood between me and the bastard who had fractured my bones in his basement! Two more flourishes, and the boar fell on the black loamy soil, and I rushed toward the remaining two without waiting for the spell to wear off.
"You left me here to die, Cheney!"
I hit one of the immobilized mobs a few times before the spell effects wore off and the pigs turned toward me to attack.
"And I kept dying the whole damned day!"
Fury took hold of me completely.
"How dare you stand in my way!"
A few more blows, and the last pig fell to my feet with a death rattle, my blade in its eye. I distractedly collected the loot and waited for the HP bar to refill, examining the carcass at my feet. The pig snout with an ugly hole in its eye socket suddenly assumed the familiar features of my Enemy.
"Yes, you bastard," I spat out the words, nearly gagging on my hatred, "the same is gonna happen to you!"
I cleaned my blade of bits of grayish flesh, raised my eyes from the corpse and looked out on the field.
"But I have survived—yes I have—and I'm coming to get you!"
With a bestial roar, I pounced on the next pack…
It took all my willpower to stop at dusk. I was standing near the wood adjacent to the field, covered in gray goo from head to foot. There were pig carcasses everywhere, emitting a horrendous stench of death. Some had already disappeared, leaving gray blotches of an irregular shape on the ground, but the ones I could see were enough to conclude it had been a productive day. It took nearly six hours of ceaseless farming, but the fields on both sides of the road were completely undead-free. I had 144 tails in my bag and lots of assorted yucky stuff such as fangs and stomach fragments—today's trophies. Time to head for the village. The piggies would start to revive before too long—the process was known as "respawning" and it began about six hours after a mob's death. Incidentally, could this be why RP-17 had extended the time it took players to resurrect from two minutes to the same six hours? We're all mobs here. I chuckled and set forth toward the village.
I had leveled to 76 on the tenth pack, and the experience bar had crawled to 14% since then. Toughness and Focus had also increased by 1% and 2%, respecti
vely. I allocated the free talent point to the last connecting skill before Silence, and used stat points in the usual way—by dumping them into HP. You could never have enough, after all.
The two road sentries got a better grip on their pikes and looked at me with some concern. But then, recognizing me as the mage who'd passed their way a few hours ago, they lowered their weapons and stood aside, letting me through. Neyl gave me seven gold coins, wincing at the smell and muttering something about crazy necromancers under his breath. He recommended to dump all the stuff that fell from the pigs into the pit by the side of the road, and I followed his advice five minutes later.
As I reached the inn, I went upstairs quickly so as to not expose the locals to the stench that came from my armor. I entered my room and went right into the shower without taking off the armor, and opened the faucets fully. The armor would have cleaned itself by the morning, and the room was well-ventilated, but I hated the thought of leaving my equipment in such a horrendous state.
The tails I handed in didn't bring in much experience—the bar moved to 21%. Looks like I'll have to stay here for a long while, was my final thought before I drifted to sleep.