Keymaster

by Sergey Zaytsev

  Chapter 16

  Something stirred in the mist. How did the Lowlings manage to see in this haze? I wouldn’t refuse a chance to get eyes as keen as theirs. I stood, waiting, hands itching to grab the sword although it was much more convenient to run without one. I stood in the open like a sitting duck — dear Mr. and Mrs. Carnivore, dinner is served. But the Crocbeasts were cautious. If we cornered the whole group here, then the geyser dwellers might not appear at all. Self-preservation was not disabled for the local fauna, unlike in ordinary VR-games. Provoking them was as unpleasant as it was life-threatening. Especially for the one provoking.

  I waited...

  The Crocbeasts were being indecisive. The day before, they ran after me quite lively. I forgot to ask Mashta if the mobs had memories of their past defeats. Maybe they didn’t like how we greeted them with stone shells to their skulls?

  At last, four creatures emerged from the water and mist with a splash. As I already mentioned, they looked like a cross between an otter and a crocodile. Or just like a hairy crocodile with six long limbs. From the jaws to the tips of their tails, they were twenty to thirty feet long, and the largest weighing more than two hundred pounds. Seeing their levels, I felt better, as the troupe for today’s show this time was rather weak — three beasts, ranging from levels 11 to 13. The fattest one had under 700 HP. Been there, beaten that.

  The Crocbeasts lined up and purposefully stomped in my direction, leaving a rake-like trail with their bodies, overgrown with gray-brown fur and widely spaced, wiry paws. A mix of earth, snow and stones fanned everywhere from underneath their claws.

  I wasn’t planning on waiting for the fifth to appear. As soon as the beasts cover half of the distance, I will turn around and run down the slope, luring the pursuers and exposing them to the shooters. First, I needed to lure them far away from their dwellings, so that they don’t have time to crawl back. I didn’t manage to hear, from the sound of my own footsteps and the creaking snow, the distant splashes behind my back. Throwing a quick glance over my shoulder, I cursed out loud — six more beasts were rushing behind the first four. Among them was a level 18 Crocbeast! The Lowlings didn’t see as well as they thought, after all!

  The first stone whizzed past me completely unexpectedly, barely missing my shoulder. The cry from the hit creature sounded from behind. It was still too early, but since the balance of power had changed against us, the Lowlings decided not to wait and rushed to the rescue. I continued to run, planning my route in advance. It was necessary to move in such a way that the boulders didn’t obscure their line of sight, but I couldn’t stray too far from the rocks either; as those were my means of escape in case something happens.

  New enemies appeared completely unexpectedly.

  Trotting through the snow, two more Crocbeasts, level 21 and 22, jumped out from behind the boulder near me. Hardened beasts, almost 12 feet long and around weighing 500 pounds each, as the system politely suggested. Papa Crocbeasts?! Did they drag their relatives from all of their smelly bogs to take revenge on us?! Dark eyes flashed greedily in the huge skulls; fanged maws opened in anticipation. Down on all six, the mangy monsters galloped to intercept me. Oddly enough, their fur was absolutely dry — the ambush was organized in advance! When did they become so witty?

  Avoiding their snapping jaws, I moved to the side. I still had an advantage in speed; the Crocbeasts didn’t have enough stamina for long sprints. Stones hail all around me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw two simultaneous hits break the skull and spine of one of the frailest Crocbeasts, splashing flesh and blood. Instant death. Another couple of hit the surface of the slope near another creature, rising fountains of earth and snow, missing it by a hair. A sling is not exactly the most accurate weapon, and the targets were in motion. But for the Lowlings, to miss was worse than sin.

  Enraged by the sight of the runaway prey, the others seemed not to pay attention to the death of their relative. They continued to squirm behind my back, letting out cries of hunger. Rounding a boulder the size of a cottage, I turned in the opposite direction to lure the pursuers back into the open. Another boulder waited ahead. According to the plan, I had to climb it, exposing the beasts to the shooters like targets at the shooting range. The Crocbeasts, fortunately, didn’t know how to climb steep, stone surfaces.

  From yesterday’s battle, I already grasped the nuances that came into play after the stat system change. As special attacks used up energy, I could run and jump all I wanted for minimal cost. I could do acrobatics for a very long time too. A dozen or two “specials” would quickly drain my energy and nullify my combat advantage. My energy had not yet been brought down to zero; I didn’t dare try such an experiment. Also, Mashta was observing me like a hawk. If I empty all of my reserves, I will be as fast as a turtle. But if I don’t take part in the battle at all and let the Lowlings have all of the fun, I won’t get any XP as it depended on the damage done. So, it was time for me to join the fray.

  Wait a minute, what the…?

  When I was about thirty feet away from the boulder, I saw a suspicious stain near it and some brown-green branches thrown over the snow in an even layer. Judging by the fact that there was no snow on the branches themselves, this “structure” had been placed here recently; earth around it was scattered as if someone had been actively digging with a stick. Or as if this crap had sprouted from the frozen ground overnight. Crazy stuff. I couldn’t remember seeing anything like this yesterday... How come there was vegetation here, in an area where all the trees had been cut down at the root a long time ago?!

  Initially, I was just going to run over it. However, sensing danger in that incomprehensible phenomenon, I abruptly took to the side, gained some speed and jumped onto the boulder from a completely different side. Climbing onto it wasn’t easy, but, as the saying goes: “no pain, no gain”. Clinging to the rough ledges, I was about fifteen feet above my enemies who had banded together at the base of the rock.

  I had a good moment to catch my breath. Blood was pounding in my temples as if some invisible asshole was using my skull like a drum. On the bright side, running had warmed me up so I wasn’t feeling cold anymore. I looked up the slope where the Lowlings should have been. I was some two hundred feet away from them. All four stood in plain sight, looking in my direction and gesticulating lively. They had nothing to fear, as the Crocbeasts were focused solely on me. The fact that the enemies were in an inconvenient position for the shooters didn’t matter much right now. The plan was for the Lowlings to wait, slings in hand, allowing me to deal with the creatures on my own. We just didn’t expect so many of them to appear. It was a proper farming fest. Despite wanting to do so, I failed to try out the Soulcatcher as the ability hadn’t been activated yet, and was currently nothing more than an eyesore in the menu. The postscript about the “creatures of Chaos” wasn’t put there for nothing. Well, there are other means...

  With a malicious grin, I targeted the level 11 Crocbeast and used Flamespear on it. A five foot long fiery pike flew from the center of my palm and hit the beast’s hairy back with a bright flash making it flare up. The fire spread almost instantly all across its body, covering it from tail to the bumpy head, leaving a lingering effect behind. The Crocbeast’s growl was almost immediately turned into a hoarse howl. In an attempt to put out the flames, it began rolling in the snow. When did they become so smart...? Not sparing my energy, I blasted the burning body with Windspear, forcing the creature to stand still and barbecue in pease. Two attacks, and eighty points of energy points were gone. I physically felt a part of my strength leaving me, but I could afford it.

  The Crocbeasts were moving, jumping in powerless rage, almost knocking each other over. One of the patriarchs, level 21, suddenly threw its body upright with a jerk and stood up on two legs, gripping the rock with the other four. Fanged jaw snapping, its muzzle was almost near my feet. I took a step back and drew my sword. Their claws were short, but their paws were strong. With a roar, the Crocbeast began to make its way
up. They were able to climb after all; at least the older ones. Finding that out at this moment wasn’t too pleasant. Maybe it was some sort of ability? If it climbed up, that would be bad; I’d have to jump over their heads and make haste toward the Lowlings as soon as possible, for I was still the faster one, and let them shoot as much as they can. But for now, I had to try using every weapon in my arsenal.

  Without hesitation, I fell onto my knee, grabbing the Flame's handle with both hands, and hit my foe’s burning eye with all my strength. The Crocbeast barely noticeably jerked its head; my blade missed, as impossible to miss as it was, and slid along the jaw, leaving a thin, purple scratch on the steel-hard skin. As I thought... The level difference was visible. The situation took an extremely unpleasant turn. But as if this wasn’t bad enough, the others, following their elder’s example, began to climb up, quite successfully mastering the difficult art of climbing. he creatures smelled as bad as their homes. I struck them with Searing Flash, summoning all of my strength; the sword cut the air with a whistle, and stuck one of the reptile’s limbs, slicing it off and leaving only severed claws behind. Yeah, my magic attacks could wound them!

  A shell hit a stone surface near my boot with a loud “boom” and sprayed shards and shrapnel. Sharp splinters cut my left cheek, forcing me to pull back my head. I turned around, trying to figure out what the hell the short ones were doing, and was greeted with a strange sight — all four were shouting something. Arkoosh was either pointing at me, or behind my back; Mashta was waving her hand, urging me to run to her; and Chula, forgetting about her sling, stood with her eyes wide with fright, clutching her head in a gesture of despair. Was this another silly jokes?

  Turning around, I turned cold from what I saw.

  I was as good as dead.

  From behind a pillar of boiling water that hit the sky as it erupted from the awakened geyser, a dozen centaurs were advancing toward us; the clatter of hooves approaching at an alarming pace. Damn, that was a small combat unit in full force! Helmets with narrow eye-slits, decorated either with protruding horns or steel crests with feathered plumes, adorned their heads; heavy armor gleamed dimly in the fading light of the passing day, fully protecting the “humanoid” part of the body and covering the “horse” chest and muscular forelegs with segmented metal plates. In the strong hands of the Dionyssites were spears with colored ribbons and pennants, like those of the knights of the terrestrial Middle Ages, and some were armed with...

  The next moment I learned the hard way that not only the Lowlings were expert throwers. Noticing the characteristic movement of an unwinding belt in the hand of one of the Dions, I barely managed to react. Something hit me in the chest, blinding with pain and knocking me off the cliff. I fell, hit my back against something springy, knocking the remaining air out of my lungs, and felt as if I was falling into a deep hole…

  Chapter 17

  I think I woke up almost immediately after losing consciousness. I was tossing and turning on the wet, and strangely warm, ground and holding my chest in pain. I failed to raise my head and catch a glimpse of my surroundings; various patterns floated in the darkness before my eyes and there was an intolerable smell of some kind of chemical acid, as if from a broken car battery. Trying to move as cautiously as possible, I took the flask with the Tincture of Health that was on my belt, somehow managed to unscrew the cork with trembling fingers, sipped it without sparing it, feeling the precious liquid spill down my neck and chin. I then tore open my jacket and blindly splashed it where it hurt the most. I wouldn’t wish such torment on my worst enemy...

  After a minute of grave oblivion, the tearing chest pain subsided a little, just enough for me to breathe without losing consciousness. My vision also cleared. I was in no hurry to get up on my feet, allowing the Tincture to continue healing; so I looked around from my prone position as much as it allowed. Darkness, albeit not a complete one, surrounded me. I was at the bottom of a naturally made well about fifteen feet deep, the entrance of which was covered by a translucent membrane glowing with a scarlet haze that was high enough for me to forget about climbing up without help. Walls around me were broadening downwards and were covered with thin threads of rather fancy looking patterns that glew dimly, like a filament of an incandescent lamp under low voltage. I later realized that those patterns were roots. Finally realizing where to go, I cursed and swore through clenched teeth. Damn those Lowlings... I promised myself to a piece of my mind once I get out; especially if I end up having to return through the Cradle. How did they fail to notice a whole Dion squad?! Did the Crocbeast hunt excite them so much?!

  Fine, maybe I should have looked around more often too.

  But even though I was angry at them, I couldn’t help but worry; not only because my pets were with them. Whether it was because of the distance, or because I was underground, the system didn’t display anyone’s HP, although their icons were still active, meaning that they were all still alive. I was sure that the four of them wouldn’t be able to stop the Dions on their own, even if they showed miraculous valor. Maybe the Dions had already tied them up like we had done with the Raksh before? But then, why were my pets still intact? They should have been disposed of, as they were an annoying hindrance. Did they manage to hide? But where could one hide among those stones? Damn the lack of a chat, text or voice messaging system! Mashta said that the service remained inactive due to the Lunar Rainbow’s closed status; most of the locations had a chat system. Damn, dead end after dead end.

  HP: 356/520

  Energy: 143/370

  Stamina: 63/100

  No wonder I felt so bad, having lost more than a third of my HP in one shot! Moreover, the blow just grazed me! Had I not managed to dodge, I would have probably still been unconscious. I wondered what level that bastard with the sling was. Stop thinking about that. As Grant, may he rest in peace, once taught me, one needs to relax, clear his mind and concentrate on healing. Alas, the Tincture and meditation were my only available means of treatment. However, my regeneration was seriously hindered by the “gifts” obtained in the sandbox: Treacherous Blow and Destroyer. I got the first when I forcefully murdered a clan member. Until I reach level 20, Mark of the Apostate would continue slowing down my health and energy regeneration by 10% and curse my allies so long as they are near me.

  The Lowlings didn’t care a lot about my Mark. Mashta even said that its a common phenomenon as many newcomers arrive with some sort of a negative status effect. In fact, that’s why they were not allowed in the main raid group; at least not until they worked out their punishment. What’s more, the radius of the Mark, as it turned out, didn’t exceed a hundred foot range, and since the Lowlings were always much further, they didn’t give a damn.

  But now it was bothering me. Combined with the Destroyer achievement, which I gained for permanently killing a player and forever halving my HP restoration through natural means, I would have to sunbathe for 15-20 minutes...

  Not restraining myself, I laughed, but the pain silenced me almost immediately. The only question was would this lair’s dwellers allow me to just lie here. This shitty luck had been haunting me since the sandbox; from the fire into the frying pan, as they say.

  According to legend, these kind of “wells” happened due to the powerful influence of the Creepoars. Their lairs were divided into static ones, which always appeared in the same place, and random ones that could, as the name implies, occur anywhere and at any time. The static ones were mainly located in the valley, and the random ones spawned behind the mountain range, where we had just been hunting. They were also classified according to their dwellers’ strength, which grew with the lair every day. The lairs would literally grow and the number of creatures would keep increasing until the lair was destroyed by players. Up to three days the lair was considered “young”, from four to ten it was “advanced”, and after that it became “old”. If, for some reason, it’s not destroyed within fifteen days, it becomes “ripe” and daemonic creatures break free from it
and roam about the location, bringing woe and destruction. Something similar existed in Wondergarden. There, too, servants of the Destroyer frolicked outside their dungeon, attacking the Sources of Power...

  From somewhere high above my head came a muffled roar, and the ground beneath me trembled. Forgetting myself, I tried to sit up, but the sudden movement immediately caused me great pain. Tears filled my eyes, and I clenched my fists in a fit of rage. Powerlessness always infuriates. All I could do was lie still and admire the scarlet, translucent haze behind which flashed the silhouettes of the Dions. It turned out that when I collapsed from the cliff directly to the entrance - that same heap of "felled trees", it was activated. According to the rules. a group had a minute to pass by a lair’s entrance. If a group was assembled and ready, this was more than enough time. The membrane would remain sealed until the lair was cleansed of either its dwellers or the “cleansers” themselves. Neither of the two options helped fix my mood...

  Two more Dions struck it with their spears with a sound like steel hitting glass. The membrane rebuked them with fiery flashes. Neither magic or physical force could pierce it now. I really managed to piss off the ungulates, the prey having fled right from under their noses. Well, let them rage. There was nothing pleasant about being pierced with spears, so I didn’t want to participate in such an event. Mashta noted that the Dions preferred the lairs that grew horizontally in the slopes of the mountains, since vertical ones were a serious problem for their anatomy. It was just a lousy coincidence that I had caught their eye.

  Unless...

  Hell, all I could do was hope that this lair was very young, because it hadn’t been here the day before.

  Player detected. Imposed Curse of Idleness (1). You will lose 1 HP and energy every second.

  I expected something like that. The lair was unwillingly defending me, but it would destroy me if I remained inactive. I had to grit my teeth and get up. After a short inspection of one side of the lair, I found a potential way out was found: a hole around three feet high and wide. There was still some light coming from the root system. The reddish cobweb-like streaks covered the entire surface; they weren’t plants, but a part of the lair itself. Apparently, that was how it germinated, forming an underground dwelling and spawning creatures; the acid smell was a side effect of the synthesis.