A Second Chance

by Vasily Mahanenko

  “Carl, sleep!” he ordered, and deactivated the demon. “Kvalen, clever people are clever because they find the advantages in everything. Why are you so early?”

  In lieu of an answer I opened my mailbox and pulled out a stack of spell scrolls. I hadn’t taken many, because they were pricey, but even a dozen frost strikes, decelerations, and weakenings significantly increased our chances of crossing the frontier.

  Eredani reacted coldly to my purchase, merely nodding and taking his share. When I produced the remaining objects, however, he perked up. Not at the thirty health-restoring elixirs, but rather at the bags. A somewhat expensive luxury at fifteen hundred per item, but any self-respecting player was obliged to acquire decent storage space. You never knew when Barliona would present a gift.

  “I figured you wouldn’t buy clothes,” he grumbled, attaching his five bags to his belt.

  “If you’re going to whine, I’ll take them back,” I warned him before reporting: “It looks like everyone’s gone mental with kit. Any overlooked unusual object costs upward of three hundred gold, and no one gives a shit that it’s beginner. Never mind rares. Do you know how much a replica of my pickaxe costs? Three thousand! Three fucking thousand gold! What for?”

  “For the possibilities, Kvalen, for the possibilities,” Eredani laughed. “There’s not many can mine demon ore. I’m surprised it’s so cheap.”

  “There’s nothing surprising about it,” said Diabettis out of nowhere. “When they introduced the new materials, almost every raid produced objects to mine them. And the lower the level, the more frequently. They stopped giving away freebies three months ago, but everyone who needed them got their objects. Guys, is it okay if we start a bit earlier?”

  No objections. Within a minute Yasya was working her magic with the lock, cursing her hands colorfully. Lockpicks flared up and snapped one after another, and only at the thirtieth attempt was the girl illuminated in white, opening Burglar for herself.

  The door flew open so quickly the hireling didn’t have time to move, and it smacked her in the face. In the doorway stood a level-nine R’Tan guardian demon pointing a spear at us, and stuck out to the sides were the weapons of demons crowded behind him. Outwardly the mob was not so different from the magi I’d seen, except he had more armor. He was just the same immense four-eyed creep.

  Without dramatic pause they attacked. A coordinated strike from seven lances pierced the protection of the nearby Maestro, and his HP went yellow. “Bastards! Bet, agro!” he shouted, jumping aside.

  Diabettis dealt the demon a wicked strike, knocking him back a couple of steps, before jumping away so the enemy spears had only empty space to penetrate. Regaining her bearings, Yasya repeated her boss’s actions and shoved the horned foe back further. A black flourish appeared by the mob. Eredani had summoned his pet to assist the hirelings.

  Berating myself for my confusion, I tardily summoned Aniram and activated demon strike. Everything had to be done carefully, because in that tight space coordinated actions risked turning into pandemonium.

  Damage inflicted

  You have inflicted 211 damage: (291 magic attack) - 80 (protection from R’Tan’s guardians). Health remaining: 116 out of 900

  This was followed by another strike from Eredani, which dispatched the first demon to the Abyss. The doorway was immediately occupied by a second, not allowing the hirelings room to maneuver, although having one spear less to deal with was a blessing. The demons defended themselves well, valiantly even, but only at close quarters. Two long-range weapons afforded them no chance. Diabettis and his guys jumped about like grasshoppers, eluding lances and allowing us to do our work. Three dark flourishes, and my Experience points crept up, easing me toward level seven. The last two demons were felled by the hirelings, the difference in level coming into play. Without the support of their brothers in arms, the beasties couldn’t defend themselves properly, and the agile players were able to duck the spears and zero in on their torsos to finish them off. Even an inoffensive flick of the finger from a level-thirteen player would cause fatal cerebral concussion to a level-nine creature.

  Dorel’s Frontier task progress

  You have destroyed 7 out of 222 demons.

  “Level seven? That was quick.” Maestro was surprised and looked me up and down, before asking, “Gems?”

  “Maestro, keep your mind on the job.” Diabettis reined him in.

  “Yes, yes, I get it.” Maestro backed down and added flippantly, “Whatever. I don’t care. What’s the difference to me if we have donators with us or not.” If this last remark was addressed to me, the hireling would be waiting a long time for an answer. I couldn’t give a damn what he thought about me.

  “Kit yourselves up. It’s stupid going any further naked.” Diabettis pointed at the bodies on the floor. Yasya had already examined the guardians, and returned her pithy verdict:

  “Junk.” She was right. Demon blood was completely useless. There was so much of it at auction that a set of ten measuring cylinders cost a gold.

  Trophy clothing and weapons were packaged as universal blanks. A belt, for example, was called a “standard-quality belt suitable for your class.” With plugs like that, a heavyweight could find plate armor, nimble and artful players — leather, and all the rest — cloth. You took the blank in your hands, pressed the Embody button, and it was transformed by the system into a common object.

  “What level is your Luck?” asked Eredani.

  “Twelve now.”

  “Open all blanks then. We’ll see how much the system likes you.”

  “Why don’t you do it yourself?”

  “Resilience was more important for me. I’m dead meat without it. Open them.”

  There were only seven significant objects among the loot. I began to embody them, and the first results didn’t inspire optimism.

  Demon guardian pauldrons

  Description: A common object. Material: thin leather

  Protection from physical attack: 10

  Objects made from cheap materials were useless, providing no real protection, esthetic value, or pleasure. If I was wearing so much as a single rag, I wouldn’t look at that garbage. However, naked as I was, ten protection points was more than I had. A belt, a pauldron, and another belt. Common objects appeared one after another, which was utterly demoralizing, so when a bright sun materialized in my hands, I nearly cast it aside.

  Demon-guardian gauntlets

  Description: An unusual object. Material: thin leather

  Protection from physical attack: 15

  +1 agility

  -10% damage from demons

  My Luck shot up by six points. Diabettis was by my side in an instant with a questioning look. The properties of the object had been relayed to the group chat, and grabbed the interest of the hireling.

  “Intellect is more important for me, agility second,” I replied to the unspoken question. “Are they better than yours?”

  Diabettis hesitated before sending me a description of his outfit. On his hands he wore a common object of thick leather with +20 to physical protection. No bonuses.

  I looked back at the loot. Three hundred gold, and with that bonus it would be five. Something unpleasant was beginning to stir inside, reminding me of my own personal gain — I could collect scores of objects and furnish Matty with an extra five months of life in reality. Even if he didn’t find work within six months. While the hirelings rejected the loot, logic dictated that the better equipped they were, the greater our chances of pulling off the mission. I gave the gauntlets to Diabettis. I had never been begrudging, but on occasion I could reasonably niggardly. There was no need for that now.

  “Take them. Consider them our contribution to the common victory.”

  “Consider them considered.” The hireling happily accepted them and swapped them for his own. My Charisma scale, which had idled the past two weeks, leaped into life. The same six points, but the ball was rolling, which got me thinking about levelling up. M
agnanimity and absence of miserliness toward other players were unprofitable, but entirely instrumental.

  Next was the turn of the common objects, which delighted me infinitely. Eredani explained that if you had luck, each standard embodiment increased your luck percentage in the future. Which is why I approached the last and seventh object with hope. A weapon.

  Don’t let me down, baby! I said to myself and pressed the button. A bright sun burned in my hands. Barliona had graciously answered my call.

  Demon guardian glaive

  Description: An unusual object. Material: aspen

  Damage: 50 (physical)

  +1 intellect

  +15% damage to demons

  “Mine!” I shouted after reading the description. Flailing the glaive about in the narrow corridors of the frontier was awkward, but it was the additional parameters of the weapon that were more important. The hirelings laid no claim to it, but Eredani sighed peevishly — it would have been handy for him too.

  While I was inspecting the objects, Yasya examined the room. She looked in every drawer and every corner, knocked on the walls and inspected every cranny, and even shifted the table in the hope of finding a secret passage. Nothing. Her scrupulosity was winning me over rapidly.

  When she opened the next door, she immediately sprang back, instructed by bitter experience. No strike followed, and she cautiously pulled the handle toward herself. “Corridor clear. Cover me.” Assured there were no obstacles, we piled through. Prison cells lined both walls, looking like cattle pens with floor-to-ceiling steel bars providing a wonderful view of the phlegmatically chewing beastie inmates. At the will of the Creator, these fluffy yellow basketballs had three eyes and a long beak. Our presence did not affect their behaviour one iota and, eyeing us vacantly, they continued to annihilate the dry branches carpeting the floor.

  “Prixis,” Eredani whispered and stepped closer.

  “Some kind of household pet?” I asked, brushing a cobweb from the bars to get a better view.

  “Nah, vermin. Omnivorous beasts, a notorious plague — they eat everything in sight. I know a dozen locations in Malabar alone fighting a constant battle with these pests. They breed faster than rabbits and aren’t picky. Leave one pair alone, and in a week there’ll be a hundred. But what good are they to demons?”

  “How clever and perceptive am I?” I snickered. “Remember when I was parleying with Aniram, she was surprised archdemons stay in Barliona and aren’t exiled to the Abyss? Well, here’s your answer. Bog-standard sacrifice on a mass scale. They steal their souls and feed their remains to lower demons or the prixis themselves.”

  “Possibly, possibly…,” Eredani shrugged, not wanting to acknowledge this obvious fact.

  “Thirty cells. All clear. No demons. No loot. Two doors.” Yasya had managed to slip to the end of the corridor and back while we stared at the prixis. Her manner of speech amused me. It was as though she’d just flown in from Lakoniki. Pragmatic and concise. I wondered if Maestro knew how lucky he was.

  Both doors opened onto a spiral staircase running steeply upward. Choosing the right-hand one, we ascended two full turns and came up against a massive mesh gate. No levers, no locks. The landing was empty and the other end was blocked by an identical barrier.

  “Maestro, lend me a hand.” Diabettis and his partner leaned their shoulders against the thick wires and tried to raise the gate, but it was a non-starter — it didn’t a budge a millimeter.

  “Do my eyes deceived me, or is that a rope?” asked Maestro, peering into the darkness beyond the mesh. We all pressed our faces to the wires.

  “Definitely. Look, it’s a counterbalance,” said Diabettis, pointing up to the ceiling at the hoist mechanism. The rope was tied to an extinguished torch and merged excellently with the wall.

  “Is there anything to cut it with?” Eredani asked.

  “You won’t reach it with a spear. Maybe throw something… It’s too thick. A knife won’t cut it.”

  “How about like this?” My partner squeezed his hands between the wires and activated a frost strike. The torch and the wall became covered in hoarfrost; the spell had hit right at the base. Seeing no result, Eredani tsked and shook the grate.

  “Fire would be a good thing at this point. Burn the freaking rope and be done with,” I griped.

  “We’re missing something,” said Diabettis, leaning his back against the gate. “They can’t have designed the frontier so you can only cross it with a crossbow. Think, guys think. What did we see on the way here?”

  A ruckus from below — the prixis had evidently polished off the twigs and begun gnawing the fat trunk of the tree. The sound triggered an associative chain reaction in my head. “We’re missing the prixis! It’s obvious! We let those rapacious beasts in here, and they’ll eat the rope.”

  “Ridiculous. They can’t fly, never mind climb the walls.” Eredani waved away my suggestion, and the others were also sceptical.

  “All that deep three practice wasn’t a total waste of time then?” I was proud of my stroke of genius and wasn’t about to back up. “Maestro, shall we go and fetch a couple of prixis?”

  The hireling raised his eyebrows questioningly at Diabettis. The latter nodded, and the former followed me, bringing Yasya with him. Subordination was above all else with true hired guns.

  “I think a couple should do, Maestro,” I ordered, standing aside.

  “Eh? Oh no, after you, messieur! We’re here to help you, not to do the work for you,” the hireling snorted and folded his arms.

  His words had an element of truth. It was my idea, and I had to set an example. Drawing the bolt, I entered the first cell. The fluffballs began to growl their suspicion, then huddled together and froze. “Quack-quack, peck-peck!” I slowly herded them into a corner, trying to recall how to address pet birds. “Come here, you yellow bitches! Maestro, don’t just stand there. Do these beasts bite or anything?”

  “Sharp as a razor, I see. Act first, ask questions later,” the hireling guffawed. Don’t fret. They can only peck you, but you can butt them with your horns. I’m off for a hunt in the next cell.” Yasya went with her husband, while I readied myself for the final push. My tactic was: bide my time, then lightning quick grab a pair of prixis by the beak, effectively defending myself by doing so.

  When a branch snapped loudly under my foot, the beasties warbled a warning, and it occurred to me that since they could make such short work of a tree, my legs would be a couple of bites’ worth.

  “You hairy bastards! What’s with all the clacking?” Maestro’s frustration could be heard through the wall.

  “That’s a system bonus for your eloquence,” I shouted and launch myself at my prey. It all happened very quickly, and not very fortuitously. When I seized my preselected samples, the remainder of the flock kicked up a commotion and laid into to me, battering me with their beaks and feet. I strode to the exit, picking my knees up high like a heron, and burst from the cell with a victory holler.

  “Aloha, dilettante!” My feeling of triumph was replaced with pique when I saw Yasya and Maestro waiting in the corridor, both with a brace of prixis in each hand.

  We launched them by turns. The plan was to throw the prixis at the torch and convince them to chew through the rope. Never before had I experienced such sporting fever. Under my breath I swore my kinship to each prixi and asked it to die for us in the field.

  Kvalen, Yasya, and Diabettis threw wide of the mark. The first hit was Eredani’s, but his prixi only got a nibble of the torch before falling to the floor. Only Maestro’s pet hit the target and clung there until its purpose was served. The gate lifted with a shrill rasp, and the yellow ball descended to its fellow tribesmen with the end of the rope still in its beak. Before moving on, we shooed all the beasties onto the staircase and kicked them back down so they wouldn’t get under our feet.

  “What’s all this noise?” wondered a voice in the language of the demons, before the gate at the other end of the corridor swung ope
n. I stepped back. In the doorway stood a two-meter demon, similar to Hermit, but for bigger muscles and no painful dark veins on its skin. Mighty, two-winged, with a thick tail and bloodshot eyes, it commanded trepidation, and the long flaming sword in its grip lit the room better than any lamp.

  Groundskeeper of Dorel’s Frontier. Level: 9. Class: rare. Health: 9000.

  Abilities:

  Fireball (recovery time 10 seconds)

  Dark entanglement (recovery time 30 seconds)

  Uh-huh. Groundskeeper indeed. Somebody’s either got an original sense of humor or a poor imagination, I noted to myself. But why “groundskeeper,” and not “frontier manager”?

  The blazing strokes of the two-handed sword described a danger zone for players — a semicircle that almost reached the opposite wall. It stood to reason that level thirteen wouldn’t save anybody from a direct strike, and it wasn’t worth asking the hard-baked groundskeeper the way to his office.