by John Gold
Eliza had enough material for a conversation with the boy. She expected Anji to meet her halfway, and at that point she’d be able to start behavioral correction. Her strategy and arguments were ready. She knew all of Anji’s weaknesses.
Vaalsie refused to let Ganet visit her in her city office, so she was going to have to visit him in the orphanage. Just two days remained before she’d finally see the subject of all her work.
All she could do was wonder how he’d react.
∞ ∞ ∞
Vaalsie sat in his chair and thought hard, trying to figure out what the psychologist could want with his ward. Anji was no fool, and there was a lot he knew about what went on in the orphanage. Then, there was that incident with the space port. In two days, Vaalsie was going to find out—the room where Eliza would be chatting with the boy was well wired. For the time being, he’d bought time he could use to clear his tracks and talk with Eliza’s potential informants.
∞ ∞ ∞
Logging into the game, I find myself in my room.
It’s morning.
As I eat, father looks at me with some trepidation. It looks like the battle between the belt and weak healing isn’t over yet.
But I’m wrong. Today, I’m running around the village trying to escape a pack of dogs. Thanks to my stamina and health restoration speed, I’m able to keep running without taking a break, but it’s hard to get away from the dogs without killing them. They’re fed lunch; I’m told to keep running. The animals find their second wind, and I notice Rachel, Grunt, and Ownie sitting by the pond and cheering me on.
“Run, Forrest, run!”
The evening turns out to be action-packed. Finally, sometime during the night, I’m allowed to stop. It hurts, but it’s a lot of fun.
∞ ∞ ∞
Resistance to physical damage: +0.02%
Physical damage ignored: up to 16/second
Speed: +8
Athleticism: +9
It turns out, the dogs were bought as hunters with the very same money I gave father. Four of them, each costing 25 gold coins. Father’s happy, so he tells me about the deal.
“In a week, they’ll be worth 100 gold each.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re going to have attributes good enough for Level 12, and still be just Level 1. They’ll be hearty, fast, and tough, too. They even have class attack skills! We’ll have them nice and well developed in a week.”
“Wa-a-ait… Father… They’re going to train using me?”
The dogs drool as they eye me, and I can’t help feeling awfully nervous.
“Your weak healing, your survivability, and the blissful look you get on your face after I beat you make me the happiest father in the world.” He looks up at the starry sky with a smile and an innocent expression.
“What’s the point?”
“Your own good,” he replied, turning serious again. “The dogs will have a surprise for you tomorrow.”
One eye starts twitching, and I laugh hysterically. My dad is something…
What’s there to say about dogs with green saliva? As it turns out, I’m both running faster and getting poisoned every time they bite me.
∞ ∞ ∞
You were poisoned by basilisk saliva.
Damage: 8.6/second
Duration: 30 seconds… 29… 28… 27…
∞ ∞ ∞
Father, what about paralysis? That would have been a real surprise—this is nothing. In 25 seconds, I’ll be dead.
Now, I have to get away from the dogs, heal myself, dodge them, and everything else, and all on the run. Rachel found a bookmaker, so the locals are betting on which circle the dogs will latch into me on. Her father set up a stand by the lake. What kind of a family is that?
There’s yet another surprise waiting for me at dinner. Mama gave the dogs something, so they’re running faster than me now. There are two whole rows of stands by the lake.
Father bets my own thirty gold on me. “Now you have an incentive!”
Right!
Nobody offers me dinner, though the dogs get something like a berserker potion. They don’t feel pain, and I can’t get them off me. I have to run, healing myself constantly, with two dogs hanging onto my shoulders. Their jaws grow stronger. Blood gushes from my wounds.
It’s only when night falls that father lets me go.
∞ ∞ ∞
Resistance to physical damage: +0.1%
Physical damage ignored: up to 45/seconds
Resistance to poison: +0.1%
Poison damage ignored: 16/second
Speed: +6
Athleticism: +8
Intellect: +6
Wisdom: +6
Life Magic: +8
Life spell effectiveness: +23%
∞ ∞ ∞
That message is a delight to the eyes. I did what I’ve been trying to do all day.
“Attribute window.”
Name: Sagie
Level: 0
Experience: 0/100 (100 left until the next level)
Race: Human
Class: None selected
Basic attributes
Strength: 20
Agility: 20
Stamina: 20
Intellect: 20
Wisdom: 20
Available attribute points: 0
Additional attributes
Speed: 20
Athleticism: 20
Morale: 20
Survivability: 20
Derivative ratings
Physical damage: 10 (strength/2, but no less than 1)
Carrying capacity: 50 kg (strength*10/4)
Mana: 200 (wisdom*10)
Health: 200 (stamina*10)
Strength: 200 (stamina*10)
Health restoration: 200/minute (survivability*10)
Mana restoration: 200/minute (morale*10)
Strength restoration: 200/minute (athleticism*10)
Running speed: 12 km/s (1+speed/10)
Defense: 1
Resistance:
Physical damage: 0.2% (damage ignored: up to 45/second)
Poison: 0.1% (damage ignored: up to 16/second)
Skills
Cooking: 3
Trap setting and disarming: 8
Archery: 2
Swimming: 4
Breath-holding: 5
Stealth: 3
Life Magic: 23
Mind Magic: 1
Space Magic: 1
Earth Magic: 1
Water Magic: 1
Fire Magic: 1
Air Magic: 1
Light Magic: 1
Dark Magic: 1
Meditation: 1
Professions
Herbalist: 2
Fisherman: 16
Tailor: 2
Blacksmith: 1
Carpenter: 1
So many liters of blood in the name of progress! Even the track where I was running is red. On the other hand, it’s all for the best—my winnings turn out to be 80 gold. Time to sleep.
The morning begins oddly. Today, practically everyone in the orphanage stopped their other games to switch over to Project Chrysalis. It’s weird seeing so many happy faces. I kind of feel like I’m in one of those health resorts on Earth or in a Venusian colony.
I log into the game, again finding myself in my room. It looks like that’s my spawn point. Is it my respawn point, too? I’m afraid to find out.
The dogs are sleeping in the kitchen, so I see them as soon as I walk in. I leap into a stance, prepared to fight them off, a reaction father notices.
“We didn’t finish our conversation about who taught you how to fight. You don’t have an ability, but I can teach it to you.”
Mama looks darkly at father. From what I can tell, she doesn’t like his idea of using me to train the dogs.
You can learn a skill: Hand-to-hand combat
I agree without a second thought.
You learned a skill: hand-to-hand combat
Hand-to-hand combat: +1
Barehanded damage done: +1%
∞ ∞ ∞
“Once you eat, we’ll head out into the yard and get started.”
I don’t have the faintest chance of winning. The difference of a hundred and fifty levels, the experience, the skills… Two hours later, I’ve been hit with twenty debuffs, and I’ve only been able to get rid of sixteen of them. From what father says, people are one big mess of pain points and weak spots: the crown of the head, the bridge of the nose, the chin, the jugular depression, arteries, the solar plexus, the crotch. When you land a strike right, you get a critical hit. You can screw up your opponent’s attack by knocking their coordination off, or land pinpoint blows to different joints. One of the worst hits I took was an open-palm strike to the heart. I lost health, I was paralyzed for a couple seconds, and I had internal bleeding. The second-worst was an open-palm strike to the lower part of my stomach. There, I had to deal with internal bleeding again, not to mention being stunned and taking huge damage. Even with the difference in skills, I realized that I know nothing about hand-to-hand fighting.
And father showed me so many different strikes! You can break the bone in the upper arm, you can shatter knees, and you can destroy elbows. Happily, father didn’t demonstrate all of them on me—he just showed me how to stand and what to do. Then, there’s tearing out the Adam’s apple, using your palm to cut an artery with a rib, bringing your elbow down on the crown of the head, the temple, internal organs, driving the bridge of the nose back into the brain.
“Humans are weak and defenseless. Predators know that, which is why they try to go after your weak points. Even armor has a lot of weaknesses. If you know them, you can do critical damage to your opponents. Those who take the path of the fist turn their whole body into a weapon,” father says, showing me that he doesn’t have anything else. “They can cut a man’s head off with their bare hands or break bones without even disturbing the skin. People like that are rare, but they do exist. Friars fit that mold, though they’re far from the most effective. Their mastery of battle and class skills is just one side of the equation.”
“But humans aren’t the only race.”
“Correct, but most living organisms share the same general body structure. Even the undead have weak points.” Father falls silent before continuing. “Today, your job will be to find the dogs’ weak points during battle.”
Fighting the dogs means constantly healing the poison damage. At this point, I use weak healing without even thinking about it—dodge, parry, attack. Move around. Throw a dog off my neck, heal, block. The dogs use skills like flesh laceration, scratching, and death grip. But it turns out that they aren’t that bad, as biting for them means opening up their throat, neck, eyes, and…stomach. Dogs don’t have abs. Almost every blow I aim in that direction comes up critical, and the dogs whine as I do my damage. When the dogs are all hurt, father calls them away and makes me heal them. I stop noticing their poison, and only now see the log message.
∞ ∞ ∞
Resistance to poison: +0.05%
Poison damage ignored: 25/second
Resistance to physical damage: +0.04%
Physical damage ignored: up to 40/second
Life Magic: +2
Life spell effectiveness: +25%
∞ ∞ ∞
Forced disconnection in 3… 2… 1…
∞ ∞ ∞
Vaalsie is standing next to my capsule, and there’s a woman I’ve never seen standing next to him in a white suit. Both of them radiate confidence in their superiority. They’re going to yell at me over nothing, and then I’ll see what they offer.
∞ ∞ ∞
The boy seemed neither fearful nor jumpy. All he did was sit there quietly waiting for the visitors, his eyes fixed on them.
“Anji, Miss Elizabeth would like to talk with you. You can chat in the cafeteria,” Vaalsie said, gesturing toward the door. “Anji will walk you there, miss. You’ll have the room for another hour.”
“Thank you.”
After settling in at a long table and spreading some papers out in front of the boy, Elizabeth started talking, aiming to take the conversation in the direction she needed.
“Hi, Anji. My name is Eliza Donovan. I’m a psychologist, which means that I help kids fit in better at their orphanages. You’re on our list of kids who don’t fit in with the group. You don’t talk with anyone else, and you’re constantly fighting.”
The boy listened indifferently, his manner relaxed. He wasn’t nervous, and he didn’t respond. The psychologist’s trained eye caught all those little details.
“You used to talk, but then you stopped. Why is that?”
Anji sat there quietly just like any other kid who doesn’t want to say anything. His arms were crossed, as were his legs.
“I went to the space port.” The boy’s expression changed to one of interest. “While I was there, I talked with the brigadier, who told me you spent all your free time for the past year there. You worked with an engineer named Galboa, and you had a great time talking with everyone there. It’s only here in the orphanage that you don’t say anything to anyone.”
It looked like Anji tensed up, expecting a blow. He glanced over at the cameras, which were turned off, and what looked like places where there was nothing.
When the patient is closed off or doesn’t want to talk, the psychologist’s job is to pull them out of their comfort zone and get them riled up.
“Open your mouth! I’m talking to you!” Eliza suddenly raised her voice, trying to take the boy off guard. He was obviously on the edge and terrified. The whole time, he kept looking around and glancing toward the exit. “If you don’t answer me right now, I’ll tell the other kids that you aren’t mute and spill the beans about your deal with the supervisor.”
Anji calmed down instantly, a single look of rage and disgust flashing quickly over his face. He stood up and went over to the exit. Once there, he stopped in front of the force field keeping him from going any further.
Eliza decided to press her advantage while the boy was scared.
“You’ll leave this room when I say you can. And if you don’t sit right down, I’ll give orders to cut Galboa’s hospital payments.”
Anji looked at the girl with undisguised anger, the veins in his temples throbbing. Still, he stayed silent. All he did was give the top of the control panel a smack and release the force field with two motions.
Eliza stayed sitting at the table as she thought through what had just happened. The boy wasn’t letting her in. She hadn’t got him to trust her. That was clear from before the conversation started, though. You have to use strength when you’re talking with kids from the orphanages, otherwise they’ll take your affection and concern as weakness. But her attempt to press him had been an abject failure. His peers didn’t scare him, and her mention of Galboa had engendered more rage than fear.
∞ ∞ ∞
Vaalsie was livid! The sedatives were all that helped him calm down. As soon as Eliza left, he started analyzing the information he had got from her “conversation.” Anji, the little brat, knew about the cameras, and could even tell that the main ones were off and the hidden ones were still working. If he started talking, he could say what was actually happening in the orphanage, that the older kids were taking protection money, and that Vaalsie got a share. Anji’d looked mute, so Vaalsie hadn’t been afraid of telling anyone, but it turned out that he’d spent a whole year chattering away in the space port. How could he have done that? The little sniveler apparently had a good head on his shoulders. He’d finished the previous school year by passing all his tests ahead of time.
Slowly, the supervisor hatched a plan. If he couldn’t make the boy stay quiet, he could at least make sure that he didn’t want to talk about all that. For example, he could give Anji one of the younger kids to start getting kickbacks from. Alternatively, he could scare him into joining the collection team as a junior member. The goal was clear—all that remained was to figu
re out how to reach it. In the meantime, he had to push back on Anji, and he knew how he was going to do that. The kid had broken the control panel for the force field in the cafeteria and left his meeting with the psychologist. Vaalsie figured he could use Eliza’s words against Anji.
∞ ∞ ∞
I logged into the game in a lousy mood, determined to take my anger out on someone. When I walk into the back yard, I see father washing the dogs.
“Continue!” He releases them, the smile never leaving his face. It looks permanent.
Without thinking, I let the creatures have it. They go flying away, whimpering as they hit the ground. Father’s smack to the forehead brings me to my senses, and his furrowed brow tells me how serious he is.
“Feel better?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Did something happen? Why are you so mad?” Father calls the dogs over so I can heal them.
“In my world, someone tried to use my…the love I have for the people close to me. They threatened to hurt me, too. I could kill her!”
“Why didn’t you?”
“The consequences would be worse than staying in control and suffering through it.”
“In that case, accept the decision you made and calm down. The dogs didn’t do anything to you.”
“Sorry, father.”
You got a debuff: Astral anchor
Effect: You can no longer go farther than 30 meters away from where you currently are.
Duration: 6 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes, 59 seconds… 58… 57…
∞ ∞ ∞
Looks like the supervisor is up to his tricks. I’m not even going to ask—he wouldn’t tell me the truth anyway. Father, apparently, can see my panel of effects.
“What’s that for? Did you do something else?”
“That’s what I get for refusing.”
“Well, at least you’ll be sleeping at home.”
