by Dmitry Bilik
“There’re not many Players among them, are there?” I remarked to Ilya, looking at the angels.
“The legion is still young. Most of them are newbs. They've not yet had the chance to become Seekers. Many of them are yet to kill their first Kabirid.”
“Actually, what happens to a commoner who does kill a demon? No, I understand the technicalities of it — but don’t they gain the victim’s development branch? Or even a couple of demonic abilities and spells?”
Ilya shrugged. “Even evil can serve the common good.”
“And you are the common good, I take it?”
The glare she gave me made it perfectly clear that another couple of indiscretions like that might earn me an almighty kick in the butt that might send me flying right across the city with no wings to help. So I bit my tongue and kept my wisecracks to myself.
The sentries posted by the donjon proved much more impressive than the ones by the community gates. All of them were veteran Players, their bodies covered in scars, their glares promising nothing good. And as I was about to find out, had it not been for my Light karma, they wouldn’t have even bothered with me.
“Who’s that Lightie?” asked an Archalus with the tag that read Exterminator over his head. As far as I could make out, this was his reputation. Not the best thing to have, if you asked me.
“He’s a supplicant.”
“Visiting hours are over,” another guard said.
“This is a special case.”
I expected them to launch a barrage of objections and was actually quite prepared to kick a few butts, readying myself to rewind time at a moment’s notice. Still, Ilya’s words proved to be enough for them. Her rank must have had a lot to do with it.
One of the guards — apparently the one in charge — asked us to wait and disappeared inside. Soon he returned and nodded to Ilya.
The donjon turned out to be tiny inside. Two staircases ascended either side of the front door. Ignoring them, we walked straight ahead toward a reception hall which was admittedly small — about six hundred square feet or so. Its walls were hung with tapestries depicting battles between the Archali and the Kabirids, the latter being portrayed as cowardly and cowering on the ground while the victorious Elysians flew at them sword in hand, their wings outspread. Only the farthest and the humblest of the tapestries had a rather peaceful theme, depicting a half-naked Archalus with a sword in one hand, pressing an angelic baby Archalus to his chest.
Several creatures were sitting on stone benches the sheer sight of which was enough to give you hemorrhoids. I was quite surprised to see two human Players, three Purgs and an Abbas. Vifeil himself was perched on a low stool nearby.
My first impression of him was that of fear. The guy was huge. Compared to all the others, he looked like a young Schwarzenegger next to Iggy Pop. With a fresh scar on his cheek and a singed right wing, he seemed to be a force of nature temporarily dormant, one that would send everyone fleeing in awe the moment it awoke from its slumber.
The tag above his head read Demon Slayer, adding to my discomfort.
“What’s up, Ilya?” his voice thundered like an avalanche rolling down a mountain.
“This Player really wants to speak with you. It’s about one of the prisoners.”
“A half-blood Korl,” he frowned. “Somehow I don’t think you’ve brought me the ransom for one of those Purg turntails.”
“You’re right. I haven’t come here to ask for any of them,” my voice sounded like a teenage falsetto after his deep dark voice. I cleared my throat and went on, “You’ve got my friend Traug.”
“That grave robber is one of your friends?” Vifeil knit his chiseled eyebrows. “Don’t you humans have a saying, something like ‘show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are’?”
“Oh no, no, I’m not into that kind of thing at all,” I hastened to reassure the angry giant. “The fact that he used to earn his living doing this was a huge surprise to me. As far as I know, he’s been leading a quiet life in Cesspit for quite a while.”
“A crime against the Archali has no statute of limitations,” he snapped. “A grave robber should rot in hard labor.”
Just look at this Batman among angels! Still, I had to push on, otherwise Traug’s number would be up. “If I offered you some dust, could we just forget this entire episode, maybe?”
“What?” he jumped to his feet. “You’ve insulted me twice now! First, when you called the desecration of my friends’ graves an ‘episode’, and second, when you thought you could just buy me off with some dust and forget about it!”
Dammit! I’d truly put my foot in it, hadn’t I? Wording, it’s all in the wording. By saying the same thing differently, you could get different reactions, triggering agreement instead of anger. Right, let’s give it a try.
[ ∞ ]
“…a grave robber should rot in hard labor.”
“I join you in mourning the desecration of your comrades’ graves. This is a highly condemnable behavior for any of my kind. Which is exactly why I’m here. If there is any way, however small, of righting the wrongs that Traug has committed, please let me know, and I’ll do everything possible to make sure you don’t judge all Korls by one wayward soul.”
Your Persuasion skill has increased to level 7.
Vifeil zoned out, dumbfounded. There was no telling what he was thinking. He could earn big money playing poker with a face like that.
“What do you think, Grassem?” the commander finally asked.
“I’m afraid, this half-blood is being economical with the truth in regards to condemnable behavior, Hierarch,” the Abbas rose from the bench, twitching the black growths on his head. “Although in their society the desecration of graves is indeed a reprehensible deed, he doesn’t really care what you think about his species. He is, however, quite prepared to do everything he can in order to save his friend.”
Dammit! I’d completely forgotten that the Abbases could tell the truth from a lie. But wait a second! If I’d received a new level in Persuasion, it meant that I’d done everything right.
Before I could even grasp the entire gist of it, the commander confirmed my theory.
“Well,” he said pensively. His face had cleared. He didn’t look so angry anymore. “I can see now that you’re indeed a real Lightie. You’ve come to me to rescue that shithead friend of yours. And I’m quite prepared to make a few concessions. There’s something that just might help me close my eyes to some of the crimes committed by...”
“By Traug,” the nearest Archalus prompted.
“What do I need to do?” I asked, listening intently.
“The Kabirids use Angels’ Ashes for making potions against us. But we have a couple of tricks of our own, too. Our alchemists are very advanced in the making of anti-demonic potions. But they all require sulfur from Hell. Ten grams might be enough for them to continue their experiments. If you fetch it, I’ll set your friend free.”
“Very well. I’ll get it done.”
That was the end of the hearing. Without saying a word, Ilya took me out. As I left the donjon, I could literally feel all the curious stares upon me.
Ilya only spoke when we’d finally reached the gates. “It seems that this Korl is very dear to you. Otherwise there would have been no reason for you to take on this suicide mission.”
“A suicide mission?”
“Exactly. After a good battle, we only manage to collect twenty to thirty grams of Devil’s Sulfur from all the dead Kabirids. Because as you can imagine, not all of them have it on them. But we’re legion. And you’re alone.”
“Not completely,” I smiled and went back down the hill.
I did have a trump card up my sleeve. A very big trump card capable of becoming invisible. A super stealth rogue, if you know what I mean. I had a funny feeling that Hunter could help me out a lot. He already could have: we could have forced our way to the governor where Hunter would have made mincemeat out of the guards while I sorted out the governor himself. Easy
.
Still, Hunter surprised me quite unpleasantly. He arrived just before sunset. By then, I’d spent some quality time scurrying around the city and especially the community. I’d found a blacksmith and left the Katzbalger with him, which cost me only twelve grams of dust. I tried not to convert this into rubles so as not to give myself a heart attack. But at least he’d promised to repair the sword before tomorrow lunchtime.
I’d also spent some time watching the governor’s house. Apparently, his goons sometimes actually did perform their duties. Admittedly inebriated, they patrolled the Community, either pestering the newbs or hassling the locals for no particular reason. But after being given a couple of grams of dust, the chivalrous upholders of the law continued on their way.
The fact that his sidekicks were pure unadulterated filth was bad news, of course. The good news was, it left him for about ten minutes with only three bodyguards. Four against two wasn’t going to be easy, but I had Hunter, didn’t I?
At least that’s what I thought until I told the whole thing to my mentor.
“No,” he said.
“No what?”
“It’s got nothing to do with us.”
“What do you mean, it’s got nothing to do with us? They’ve got Arts! And Litius! And we need to rescue Traug too!
“Their problems shouldn’t be yours!” Hunter said in such a loud voice that even Tartr and Bretta busy squabbling in the far room fell silent. “They got themselves into this mess, let them get themselves out of it.”
“But Litius, it’s only because of me that he… And Arts, you should have heard her talk about you, she literally pisses herself with admiration. When you asked her to get her backside to Purgator to help me out, she didn’t hesitate for one second!”
He waved my arguments away. “I paid her to do that. That’s the extent of our relationship. I want you to remember one thing. Charitable people don’t live long here. You have your own life, so you’d better take care of that. The rest is none of your business.”
“No, but-”
“Enough!” he snapped. “If you stop all this bullshit, at least you’ll live longer than…”
“Than who?”
“Than my o-...” his voice quivered, “than my own sons. Get yourself ready now. The Magister is very worried. And not just him: all the Empaths are on edge. Something’s in the air. And it doesn’t bode well, I’m afraid. I’ll just pop out to see the caster, and we’ll go straight home. Is that clear?”
I clenched my teeth and nodded.
Hunter gave me a long suspicious look and left.
I could understand him. He was worried about me. Normal. But dumping my friends? Logically thinking, what he’d said made perfect sense. Arts had taken up this mission of her own free will, and she’d failed it. Traug was a grave robber who deserved the punishment. I had no arguments against it. But Litius? The poor beastman who’d fallen victim to my own stupidity and half-assed attempt at diplomacy. I just couldn’t abandon him to his fate.
And that’s logically thinking. Unfortunately, I’d been raised reading good old-fashioned books for kids where friendship was much more than just a mere word. I used to have my fair share of casual friends and classmates who eventually went their own ways. Only now that I’d got access to the Game had I finally found people I could call true friends and comrades. I just couldn’t dump them.
I knocked on the door of the alchemist’s room. “Tartr? Can I speak to you for a second?”
“What’s up?”
“Take this. There’s ten grams here,” I handed him the dust. “When Hunter comes back, tell him I left. Not a word more. When I’m back, you’ll get another ten grams. Okay?”
Your Bribery skill has increased to level 1.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he said, deftly pocketing the money.
“And one other thing. Could you give me some idea where to look for Jumping Jack’s cave?”
Chapter 4
SILENT NIGHT, PURGATOR NIGHT... all is calm and all is bright... Never mind the sky was totally different here. No sign of our familiar constellations: I couldn’t even find the Pole Star or the two Ursas, let alone Sagittarius, Libra or Canis Major. Everything here was totally different, apart from the waxing Blue Moon which was doing its best to resemble our own.
Apparently, Saturn had those two funny satellites which every few years would have a little dance, trying to chase each other while moving in their respective orbits until, obeying the laws of gravity, they would swap places with each other. The even funnier thing was, one of the two satellites was called Janus.
Could it be something similar here? Could these two satellites eventually change places too? The way they reflected the light of the local star could then affect all living organisms. Like the blue light could make Players stronger while the red one could empower all sorts of monsters and other creatures. Having said that, had I created this place myself, I would have just explained it all away as “magic!”.
To tell you the truth, I didn’t really feel the effects of the blue moon. It was already a good job it lit up my way, thank you very much.
Jumping Jack lived to the west from the old dilapidated Gate in the mountains. I was afraid I might miss it, but Tartr had assured me that it was impossible. According to him, if I kept moving in the right direction, I’d all but walk right into it.
Okay. If he says so. Until now though, I’d come across nothing but antalopes. A small herd of them had frozen on a nearby hill, watching my every step. What was even worse, it had taken me some time to notice them, too busy pondering the finer points of the local astronomy.
Once I’d noticed them, I stopped dead in my tracks. They were barely thirty yards away — a mere trifle for them.
I drew the knife, utterly regretting not having brought my Katzbalger along. Even rusty and less efficient damage-wise, but it was still better than nothing. Especially against nine head of fully grown cattle.
Not nine, sorry. Eleven head. Another couple had just wandered out from behind the hill, apparently wondering what the others were lining up for.
All I had was three time rewinds and four spells — and I had no idea which one of them could actually help me. Plus a small herd of antalopes was moving slowly toward me step by step, lowering their horned tiger’s heads. I really needed to disrupt their well-laid-out plans of killing me by adding a dash of unpredictability. Meaning, I had to attack first.
An electric arc split the night in two, zeroing in on its target. The antalope closest to me — apparently more known for his valor than his brains — flew backwards, flattening two more of his brethren on the way and forcing all the others to turn tail. The whole herd retreated with a fearful meowing just like a disturbed bunch of alley cats.
In the meantime, I stood with my arm still extended, attempting to read a new system message while simultaneously trying to figure out what to do next:
Your Destruction skill has increased to level 3.
I shuffled from foot to foot, uncertain about how to proceed. The antalopes were hot-footing it like the Napoleonic army retreating from Moscow in 1812, without as much as looking back. Even the two trampled ones had promptly regained their senses and legged it, leaving behind the sole poor creature which had played the role of a lightning rod.
How weird. The Electric Arc only had 40 pt. damage. How could I have possibly killed the antalope with it?
I walked over to him. He looked even bigger up close. He was in fact as large as a fully grown cow albeit his flanks were slightly narrower. His chest was heaving. You couldn’t really kill him quite so easily.
I warily touched his horns. They weren’t that sharp: I wouldn’t say they’d been used a lot for fighting. Still, one poke with these horns wouldn’t make you come for more.
I took a better look. The tiny red strip of an HP bar was hovering above his head. The creature hadn’t had it before. According to it, I must have somehow stripped him of 2/3 life. So! Either antalopes o
nly had 60 HP like myself, or…
I looked up and slapped my forehead. Of course! The Red Moon boosted all monsters and wild creatures while the Blue Moon boosted Players, didn’t it? I must have simply gotten my share of its magic.
In the meantime, the antalope opened his eyes, staring at me blearily. His legs began to convulse.
I leapt aside and drew my knife but he had no intention of attacking me. He scrambled to his feet and attempted to trot away, staggering. I watched him wobble away, having absolutely no intention of chasing after him.
So my every action would now get a Blue Moon boost. It was probably perfect timing to have a few sparring sessions with Hunter, somewhere in an open field at night. Still, he was probably furious now; I had a funny feeling I might have to postpone my training with him until better days.
