External Threat (Reality Benders Book #2) LitRPG Series

by Michael Atamanov

  We had a six-day head start on the Dark Faction. That might seem like a serious leg up. However, they had plenty of resources and significantly more people, including many times more noncombat players. Something was telling me the Dark Faction would finish up before us, then be first to expand into the Harpy Cliffs. Ugh, if not for the ceasefire, we could attack the darksider base while it was still vulnerable and unfinished. I’d seen some fortifications of ours that were attacked before completion before. In fact, a group of Centaurs managed to raze it to the ground. And that meant that NPC’s could destroy player-built structures...

  Actually, speaking of NPC’s... I considered it, then asked how much one tank of napalm weighed.

  “Different amounts. From around four hundred fifty to eighteen hundred pounds. Why do you ask?”

  “We could pay the harpies to throw them down on the enemy base from the sky, hopefully a couple. Naturally, we would give our enemies a couple days to transport in all their materials and begin construction, then blow up all the people and stuff. And it wouldn’t come back on us. What do we care what some NPC’s get up to in a neutral node?”

  He spent some time just batting his lashes in silence, not able to answer. But then he smiled, showing a row of ideally white and even teeth:

  “Gnat, that just might work!!! Harpies are strong, and two or three of them together could easily lift one of those bombs. And they wouldn’t have to fly very far. It’s just two and a half miles from their roost! But then comes the issue of payment. I’m afraid that they’ll ask for too much. We might not have the crystals...”

  “Ivan, why pay them in crystals?! I’m sure all it would take is a box of dried rations big enough to feed the whole flock. A harpy sold me a laser pistol for three ration briquettes. So for a whole box of tasty human grub, not only will they go, they’ll sing songs and recite dirty limericks in the language of the Dark Faction while they do it. But there is one hazard: we need to make sure these wing-armed bastards don’t ‘accidentally’ drop some of the bombs on our unfinished base in Karelia. Those lowdown harpies would just love that!”

  “Yes, it really is their style,” the diplomat agreed. “The harpies mistrust all humans equally, so they’ll definitely try some tricks. But we have just the thing: long-distance detonators. If any part of the harpy flock tries to deviate from the route, we just blast them to smithereens. Then they’ll see what happens to those who try and pull a fast one on us!”

  But if even we couldn’t make a beneficial agreement with the clever and cunning harpies, trying to work with our faction’s NPC neighbors was an obvious next step. I suggested the diplomat talk with the Centaurs and other members of the Antiquity Faction. It was entirely possible that our neighbors could help us build, transport materials and guard our lands. And we’d find a way to pay them.

  “I already know how we could pay the Centaurs. The whole faction knows. After your attempt to trade went up in flames, Kisly explained Phylira her mistake and started a whole enterprise selling giant condoms to the centaurs. They brought in a big box from the real world, and it’ll be enough for many years to come. Plus, they generally appreciate vodka as well as blacksmith services. Otherwise, their unshod hooves quickly wear down on the rocks. At any rate, we can find things to offer them. Payment will not be our issue here. The problem is going to be language and leadership... but I’m sure we’ll work things out.”

  In a burst of unexpected openness, Ivan Lozovsky, already quite drunk, admitted that faction leader Radugin had been asking analysts to predict the outcome of a war with the centaurs. The H3 Faction needed more nodes. But to the west, our territory came up against the sea shore. To the north and northeast we had the abominable Dark Faction. And the east and southeast contained only impenetrable swamps inhabited by vicious forest spirits and kikimora.

  There were just two other paths. We could go northwest along the sea to Karelia, the Harpy Cliffs and onward to the Geckho space port, which was the preferred option. Or we could expand south by fighting our way through defended mountain passes into the Antiquity Faction’s lands, starting a bloody war of extermination with endless hordes of strong fast centaurs, powerful minotaurs and elusive dryads shooting poison darts. Our analysts did not favor that option. We could not expect a fast victory, while a war on two fronts might lead to our forces being spread thin. And that could weaken our border with the Dark Faction, which would end our faction in no time.

  After all, on first glance it seemed that having firearms would give people an indisputable advantage over the NPC Antiquity faction, which was still mired in the epoch of bow and arrow. However, in the game that bends reality, a technological advantage was not the boon you might imagine. Just one minotaur with a bronze axe could crush machine-gunners to dust in close combat. Sure, NPC’s didn’t respawn after dying, but they leveled and improved skills at least ten times faster, so they could replace a downed comrade with three no less dangerous compatriots in a matter of days.

  The more I heard from the diplomat, the more alarmed I felt. Apparently, it was not too smart for us to use force in this case. We would have to find some other way.

  “And the other factions from our earth cannot help us? I heard someone mention the Chinese near the Geckho space port. Probably, we could link up with some other ones, too.”

  The diplomat gave another sad look, this time without returning to a smile:

  “No luck for now. We haven’t been able to establish contact with any factions from our world inside the game. In the real world, we know from military reconnaissance that Australia has begun demolishing their secret Virtual Corn base near Perth. The Human-11 faction is already totally defeated. As far as we know, their nodes were attacked by enemies that sound an awful lot like the Dark Faction. We also have some info on their coordinates, but it places them thousands of miles from our territory. That means it cannot have been Leng Thumor-Anhu La-Fin’s faction.”

  “What makes you so sure?” I asked. The diplomat responded that they had interrogated some of the Dark Faction soldiers taken prisoner in Karelia, and finally gleaned that they controlled a total of five nodes, with a sixth in the Poppy Fields in the planning stage. Try as they might, our neighbors wouldn’t have been able to reach the Australians.

  So, a mystery... As it turned out, either the darksiders had multiple factions, or there was some unknown third power. Ivan Lozovsky had nothing definite to say. There was just too little information.

  “Our real-world spies have informed us of the coordinates of all seven H4 nodes. That’s Japan. Their only neighbors are NPC’s. They’re doing great and growing fast. They’ve already managed to get four thousand characters into the game. But the Japanese are also very far away, so we won’t be able to meet with them any time soon.”

  Here we had to stop for a bit. Imran came to say goodbye. He had to patrol the pass between the Yellow Mountains and the lands of the wild centaurs at first shift, which was rapidly approaching. Imran proudly told us that his Gladiator had already reached level thirty and increased Strength and Agility two times each.

  The Dagestani athlete gave me a warm hug farewell and said with a note of reproach:

  “Gnat, don’t forget your old friends! When you get back from space, call me and Anna to join your division. We’ll come and help with whatever you want!”

  I thanked Imran for the support and trust, then told him I had a special gift for him: a fearsome sickle-shaped Miyelonian blade, specially made for a Gladiator. It was forged of a very light and flexible alloy, razor sharp and every blow hit the target with a powerful electric shock, paralyzing them for a few seconds.

  “As far as I know, it requires Agility at twenty and Blades either forty or forty-three...”

  “I’ve got plenty of Agility, but Blades’ll need to be brought up a bit. Now at least I know what to level and where to put my skill points!” With these words, clearly heartened, Imran nearly ran to his Corncob.

  As soon as I returned, I was interce
pted by Anya and taken off to dance. I tried to refuse, but the blonde beauty made the fair excuse that I was the only man left. Ivan Lozovsky was too embarrassed to dance and claimed he was too drunk for fancy footwork. The other gentlemen were all taken. Kisly had been dancing with Masha all night, and Lydia Vertyachikh had been all over Dmitry Zheltov. She wouldn’t let anyone else near him.

  I turned to the dancing couple and managed to make out what they were sweet-talking about. I was surprisingly able to make out their words despite the muted voices, loud music and appreciable distance between us. That was very strange, and I was only able to find one explanation: my high Perception in the game that bends reality must have improved my hearing, vision and smell in the real world. Well, that was quite a nice bonus!

  Anyway, the Journalist, skillfully alternating praise and feminine wiles, was clearly fishing for a big all-night interview with the heroic starship pilot. I made out some familiar turns of phrase about tossing a coin ten times. Dmitry Zheltov, letting his hands wander and feel up all the tempting curves of her feminine body, clearly was not opposed, promising to tell and show her everything. He even took it a step farther and said he’d like to “give a pretty lady a ride on his rocket ship.”

  Hmm... I felt awkward prying into their lives and turned to Anya, who was still trying to convince me. I wasn’t feeling stubborn and let the pretty blonde pull me onto the dance floor. The music changed again, now a slow dance. Anya placed her hands on my shoulders and squeezed her whole body up against mine, then unexpectedly whispered that she felt really good, and wished she could celebrate with me until sunrise. I wanted that too, which I whispered back.

  “Alright, it’s decided! We can party and dance until we pass out! But first, I need to go back to my room to grab some... lipstick. Wait here...” Anya smiled and met gazes with me.

  In her expanded pupils, I saw a reflection of my own glimmering blue eyes and immediately turned away, not wanting to read her thoughts and spoil all the intrigue.

  “Kirill, I’ve heard you traded something with the Centaurs in the game, would you happen to have any more of them?”

  “Don’t you worry about that. There are a few packs in the drawer under the mini-bar. So, you don’t have to go ‘get lipstick,’ there is plenty of ‘lipstick’ here. I’ve got extra sensitive lipstick, strawberry-scented lipstick and studded lipstick,” I chuckled. Then, no longer embarrassed, I pulled her decisively toward me and gave her a big kiss on the lips.

  “Great!” Anya laughed after our faces finally came unstuck. “Let’s wait for everyone to go home, then we can figure out what kind of ‘lipstick’ works best.”

  Chapter Nineteen. Main Suspect

  I WOKE UP around midday, which was not too surprising. Anya and I had “tested lipstick” until sunrise, only sometimes taking short breaks from our amorous delights to dance in the nude, horse around throwing pillows at one another and get up to other tomfoolery. I surprised myself. Maybe it was just too long since I’d been with a girl, or maybe Gnat’s Constitution had grown enough in the game to have an effect in the real world, but I was simply tireless on that wonderful night. And Anya was a passionate, capable and insatiable lover, so we both had “met our match” as they say. Locked in the most ancient form of one-on-one combat, neither of us was willing to surrender. Only when the day lighting turned did we remember we would have to stop and use the bed and pillows to sleep.

  Anya was sleeping sweetly on my bed, and I didn’t wake her up. After taking a shower and quickly snarfing down some leftovers from yesterday’s feast, I hurried to leave. By my estimations, the religious ceremony on Medu-Ro IV should have been over already. So, now was the right time to enter the game, meet the Pride of the Bushy Shadow, and come to an agreement on the price of the precious metal and other conditions of our important deal. I was not particularly worried about the negotiations, because the casino owner told me he had his own captain as backup. So, if the Pride of the Bushy Shadow offered less than stellar terms, there was always another option.

  At the exit from the secure building, I was joined by an escort provided by faction leadership, and two soldiers supplied by Gerd Tamara. I had no objections, of course, because the Dark Faction bounty was still in place, and the danger was very real. At any rate, I was not planning to hang around in the real world. I wanted to go straight to my virt pod and immediately load up the game, but there were people waiting for me outside.

  A strong young boy in an athletic suit stood up when I approached. He was freckled, and his hair was so bright red it looked unnatural. What was more, it was apparently real. I stopped the bodyguards with a gesture, who were trying to chase the stranger off, then allowed him to come closer.

  “Greetings, Gerd Gnat!” said the man, extending a strong calloused hand. “I am Eduard Boyko, I’m sure leadership told you about me.”

  Eduard Boyko? Didn’t ring a bell... No, I was definitely hearing this name for the first time, and I honestly admitted that.

  “Strange. I am usually held up alongside Dmitry Zheltov as an example of someone who chose the wrong class. I am our faction’s Space Commando!”

  Everything became clear at once. I even whistled in surprise. Just look what poor Eduard got himself into! Yes, I had heard about this useless faction member from Tyulenev, although the former head of staffing hadn’t told me his name. Boyko took in my astonishment and gave a tortured chuckle:

  “I can see you’re also struck. Yes, my game class is Space Commando! And our faction doesn’t have a single starship, landing module, or landing system of any kind. And we don’t have any power armor or other crap like that, either...”

  “Sure we have power armor!” I objected, referring to Gerd Tamara’s suit.

  “Yes, our whole faction has one suit of power armor, and it belongs to Gerd Tamara. But she’s leader of the Second Legion, a legend and savior, so she has earned it. But no one is going to buy another gizmo like that, it’s unimaginably expensive! I cannot use any other types of armor though and, beyond that, without a powered exoskeleton, I cannot wield a heavy weapon... So overall, that leaves me with no armor and no weapon. Now, instead of a combat character, I’m just a grunt. I pick up building debris, clean out irrigation ditches and watch the fields for pests.”

  “Hrm, that’s a shame. And what other class did the game offer you, if it’s not a secret?” I asked, just curious. He waved his hand fatedly:

  “Sure, I’ve got nothing to hide… I could have been a Machine Gunner, which would have been great for the faction. I was such a dumbass. I just grabbed for the cool name and picked Space Commando! I’ve been in the game for six months already. I was actually one of the first people under the Dome. My number is just eighty-four. As a matter of fact, Gerd Tarasov and I entered together. But look where he is now — a real star, a record-setter! But in my six months, I’ve only managed to crawl along to level thirty-three. That’s also a record of sorts, but not the good kind...”

  It was all a very sad story, but I didn’t understand what it had to do with me. Eduard, pumping his impressive biceps, which were visible through the track suit, answered that question with extreme honesty:

  “Well, who else can I turn to if not the player who managed to crawl out of shit just as deep and make it big? I admit, I used to laugh at you. I remember thinking, that’s a good one, now we’ve got a Prospector, too! With no scanner or class junk, he can be my partner clearing muck from the canals. But then I looked again, and Gnat had gotten off that path! After that, you pulled Dmitry Zheltov out of the same hole, and he became another man overnight. Now he’s proud, self-confident and even getting interviewed. I gave it some serious thought and figured I’d ask if you can get me power armor and weapons, so I could finally do my job as a player. If you can, you’ll never find yourself a more loyal companion! To hell with the faction and all the leadership, I’d follow you to the ends of the Universe!”

  With that, Eduard thought he’d said his fill and gave me a shoulder
slap goodbye with his heavy hand. That made my legs slightly buckle, and my bodyguards sharply straightened up. But the muscular man just didn’t know his own strength and had no bad intentions.

  On the way to the corncob, I was thinking over his offer. As a recently-anointed Gerd, I now needed likeminded companions. It certainly couldn’t hurt to have such a powerful warrior as Space Commando Eduard on the newly forming Team Gnat. But I had no idea how to fulfill his request. I wasn’t likely to find an exoskeleton power-armor suit for a human on the Medu-Ro IV station. Maybe I could get a Geckho armor suit redone for him? Hard to say. I would need to consult with some experienced mechanics. Also, it was impossible to say how much the raw material would cost. Ugh, I should have asked Gerd Tamara. Most likely, her suit was a “retrofitted” Geckho armor suit, but I couldn’t be sure. It would be nice to make sure that was even possible before wasting a ton of my personal savings, though.

  * * *

  SO, THE FOURTEENTH FLOOR of corncob fifteen, my virt pod, loading up the game. My detailed statistics came up:

  Gerd Gnat. Human. H3 Faction.

  Level-51 Prospector

  Statistics:

  Strength

  13

  Agility

  16

  Intelligence

  23

  Perception

  26

  Constitution

  15

  Luck modifier

  +3

  Parameters:

  Hitpoints

  1464 of 1464

  Endurance points

  811 of 811