Keymaster

by Sergey Zaytsev

  The increase in damage was probably the result of several factors. Soulcatcher poured energy into Spiritual Link, which, in turn, strengthened Soulcatcher, and the intervention of Alan’s Sign introduced its own, unknown modifier. However, Synergy was barely felt at this distance, and Acceleration didn’t affect combat stats. Therefore, Spiritual Link could be considered insignificant, so only the Sign remained... Was this what Chzher meant when he spoke about a patron’s influence? If so, then this was really a serious power that could only become more powerful if one gets to know their patron better...

  Chapter 42

  Having picked up the last esc from the snow, I was about to throw it in the bag with the rest when a new idea popped into my head. Staring at the smoky hexagon in my hand, like a magician stares at the hat from which he was about to pull an eared surprise, I walked back to Stinger. In my hand was a second grade esc, similar to the one I had in my hands after the last fight. The first one I spent was the grade 3 one that I had “borrowed” from the Furnace. For some reason, Soulcatcher’s automatic selection chose it, although it was damaged. Mashta said that the higher the grade, the higher the energy value of the Crystal. And Stinger, while in the gatehouse, hinted that he intentionally used grade 3 escs for the Furnace as they gave more heat and light than the rest.

  “Are you going to help me or are you going to level up your laziness?”

  Lost in thought, I didn’t notice when stopped near the flayed carcass. Stinger had already separated the first piece of skin, and we spent the next five minutes tearing it off the slimy, bluish flesh. Not allowing himself a break, he immediately began to cut the next piece. Squinting, he suddenly grunted.

  “You’re full of surprises, eh, Wise?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

  “Marked a clanmate murderer... Has two pets... Has a patron... Add to that that Soulcatcher of yours and you have full house. You have outdamaged me at level 15 almost effortlessly. It’s hard to admit, but it’s admirable. It seems to me that your story about the sandbox is far from complete.”

  Having him list my “merits” caused me to grin sarcastically. To be fair, I didn’t ask for any of these achievements. Alan the Dark chose me himself; Soulcatcher was an unforeseen reward, and Gramp’s murder was the result of unfortunate circumstances from which I didn’t see any other way out at that moment. It’s not like I honestly wanted to kill him, even though he was an asshole. Fury was the only thing that I gained on my own. Tinnie, too, was a completely unexpected and very pleasant bonus.

  Stinger mentioning Soulcatcher specifically was, of course, quite expected. Party battle logs could be browsed by all party members, and Stinger wasn’t a total idiot. Of course he checked to see why the boss had gone down so fast. And since the outcome of the battle impressed him, I gained an additional trump card. I hadn’t yet given up on the idea of making him one of the Hunters.

  “No one in their right mind would tell everything to the first newcomer,” I calmly parried.

  “Caution in this case is quite appropriate,” Stinger nodded knowingly, continuing to cut the skin with his dagger. “I don’t need brainless idiots here in the valley. I thought that you were a regular convict at first. Like me. But I couldn’t understand how you managed to survive with the gift the Lowlings left in your guts. You’re not a healer, you’re a warrior. So I wanted to see what you’re worth in battle.”

  Soulcatcher had nothing to do with it, but I didn’t dare correct him.

  “I thought that the walk to the Seal was just a test.”

  “It was. Now, about my impressions.” Stinger wiped the sweat from his forehead with his palm and thrust his dagger into the carcass once more. “First, you didn’t run away at the beginning of the battle, as I suggested you do. This already says something about you as a person. But then, during the battle, you started grabbing loot and I was almost disappointed, thinking that greed had overcome you. This, you see, is a bad trait for a partner. I spend a mountain of those escs on the Furnace every day, you see, it’s difficult without normal coal. But this Soulcatcher of yours changed the situation radically. That’s why you needed an esc?”

  “Yeah. You’re quick-witted.”

  “Excellent. We’ll cooperate well. Now help me...”

  We tore off another decent piece. With a joint effort, we turned the carcass around to get to the rest of the skin.

  “I didn’t bring you here just because of the mobs and the materials,” Stinger picked up the dagger that was covered with sticky dandruff up to its hilt. “You want to return to the Fortress, but I wanted to show you that we can manage without them. A small mishap doesn’t change the overall picture; we managed, we’re both alive and well. I know all the leveling places in the valley, and I know the lair’s respawn time. It’ll be necessary to quickly get you to level 20 in order to get rid of the Mark, and raise your reputation with your patron at the same time. Mind you, for this task, we don’t need the Dalrokts, or the Okhtans, or the Lowlings. What do you say?”

  I didn’t answer immediately. The picture he painted didn’t suit me for many reasons. First of all, because of his short-sightedness. But I had think of arguments that would convince him that he was wrong.

  “No, Sting, a duo can’t possibly solve the Citadel problem,” I sighed. I didn’t want to ruin the relationship that had just formed, but I didn’t want to agree to a bad plan either. “We need allies. The more the better. Therefore, I need to see the Dalrokts. They will listen to me and deal with the Lowlings. And then I can easily bring you to the Fortress. No questions will be asked.”

  “Let’s suppose you really have the influence you’re bragging about. But tell me this: did the outcasts progress during their stay here?” Stinger grinned scornfully and answered: “Not a damn inch. They keep attacking the Citadel without any visible effect.”

  “Aren’t you to blame too? At least a bit?”

  He straightened up, and looked at me with genuine surprise. “How so?”

  Guess the devil had pulled my tongue. Okay, why stop now?

  “By not informing the outcasts about the passage to this valley. Because of their own selfish interests, the Lowlings did everyone a disservice, there’s no doubt about that. It’s possible that this is why the epic couldn’t be completed. The Fortress should’ve known about this valley a long time ago. And about the Seal. But you didn’t do any better. Instead of finding a way to inform the Dalrokts and cooperating with them, you blocked their access to the valley. You hid yourself here like a snail in its shell. What a visionary decision.”

  I said this gently, although I could’ve simply declared that loneliness had driven him crazy.

  “Listen, you smartass... If you’d been in my shoes, in the Raksh mines...”

  “Easy there, Sting,” I rose my hands in a conciliatory gesture, but I had no intention of backing down; I was feeling tired of going with the flow. “I’m not arguing with you, just discussing the problem. You wanted to hear my opinion, so here it is. And there’s one more thing you failed to take into account. I think that they’re panicking over there in the Fortress now. Chzher stated that my patron and I are probably their only hope. They know that I’m alive since my name hasn’t appeared in the Mausoleum, which means that they’ll be looking for me. They’ll turn the entire location upside-down if necessary. Do you need such problems? You know what they say, divided we fall. We have to unite to solve this problem. And without the Mausoleum, our hands are tied.”

  “To hell with the Mausoleum!” Stinger interjected sharply. Going back to work, he began to cut the skin fiercely. “Think about it; humans didn’t return to the Fortress after the coup. They couldn’t. I’m sure that they were caught and exterminated one at a time, until they ran out of saves. We’re not needed there! We’ll manage on our own. You’ll often get save points for clearing bigger lairs, completing random quests or getting achievements. All you have to do is avoid stupid deaths. I found you, and we’ll find
others. We’ll gather humans and occupy the Fortress, and outsiders will no longer command there. Then we’ll restore the human population. The strongest race will survive; it’s the battle of the fittest.”

  I sighed heavily. How could he not understand that all of this could be achieved by simply coming to an agreement with the Dalrokts?

  “You know, I’m also angry with the shorties and, if given the chance, I’ll remind them of what they did to me,” I said calmly, as shouting wouldn’t do any good. I really needed to convince him that I was right. “Unfortunately, blind revenge won’t help us solve any of this, nor will it help any of us get out of Lunar Rainbow. My guts keep telling me that that’s not how it works here. Disunity will only worsen the situation. Let’s suppose we do everything as you say. Capture the Fortress. Throw out the strangers. What then? Again, it’s necessary to gather the forces needed to raid the Citadel. We’d need to level up the fighters. How much time would all of that take? You must be dying of loneliness if you sent Rawrk to the Fortress to find a human. Did it ever occur to you that there may be a deadline for this quest? What if it’s already too late?”

  “Why would you think so?” Stinger grinned incredulously, obviously taking my predictions as empty words. “Give me a hand!”

  We spent the next ten minutes in silence as we tore off every useful bit off the monster. By the time we were done, our sleeves were drenched with an oily, thin fluid, and we had a decent pile of material.

  “Finally,” Stinger grumbled. The monster’s carcass slowly began to dissolve, responding to his command. He shot a scrutinizing glare in my direction.

  “Maybe we’ll invite the Raksh to your clan,” he suggested in a mocking tone, “and not the outcasts, if the system allows it. You’ll win their trust, and they’ll grant us access to their Mausoleum.”

  “That sounds good to me,” I replied calmly, withholding his gaze. “We can invite the Dions, too. It’s all for the common good, after all. I’m against racial prejudice, so I’m not going to ignore the outcasts.”

  “What a stubborn guy you are...”

  “Look who’s talking. Listen, Sting. I desperately need to look at the Mausoleum’s list... I should’ve done it right away, after my very first conversation with Chzher, but I didn’t know… I was too tired then...”

  “Didn’t know what? Are you looking someone specific?” Stinger asked, understanding what I was getting at. “Weren’t you alone when you got here?”

  “Yes, but... Do you remember Grant?”

  For a second he froze, and then frowned.

  “How do you know that mage?”

  “Is this another test? He’s a healer, not just a mage. Satisfied?”

  “That can’t be a coincidence,” Stinger muttered in shock. “It was a month ago, no less...”

  “Grant was my mentor.”

  “Why ‘was?’ Was he sent to Lunar Rainbow? Did the Inferno spit him out here?”

  “No, but...”

  “Your hopes are in vain then,” he said, immediately becoming bored. “This is a closed location. Only those who died here are reborn in the Mausoleum.”

  “Did you personally study the lists or do you know this from other people’s words?”

  “No, I didn’t see them for myself, but it’s quite logical...”

  “I know that the chances are small,” I interrupted. “Mashta said the same thing. But it won’t hurt to look at the lists, right? Just to be sure. Maybe the Dalrokts don’t know how to use use all of the Mausoleum’s options? Or maybe you just don’t want to get involved with low-level novices that you know nothing about except their names?”

  “He was a good guy,” Stinger muttered to himself, not listening to me, thinking about something personal. “Someone I had personally sent to the Replicator must’ve taken their revenge on him...”’ He looked at me inquiringly. “Am I right?”

  “I’ll tell you along the way,” I replied. “It’s high time that we return. Tinnie has been left unattended for too long. And I can’t stand this damn cold anymore.”

  Excited by the news about Grant, Stinger didn’t immediately notice that I had been looking at what remained of the boss for a full minute. And when he noticed, he scoffed and suggested I take it.

  “I already have one of those,” he said. “It’s more useful on its own. You can’t stack them.”

  I smiled and picked up the item, already wondering what would be the best way to use it.

  Simple Ring of Rank

  Rare item

  Durability: 90/120

  Bound Ability: Illusion of Perfection

  Raises the rank of any ability by 1.

  Cost: none

  Duration: 1 hour

  Charges: 9/12

  Cooldown: 3 hours

  Chapter 43

  “They won’t get far with only one shaman left… Ah, now there’s no shaman. His suffering is over.”

  The cornice, where Stinger and I had been sitting idly for the last hour, protruded from the massif of the rocky slope like a stone tongue sticking out of the mouth of an unknown creature. The base of this “tongue” went into the mountain’s body, into a short tunnel leading to the elevator and the disguised gatehouse entrance behind it.

  After our work was done, Stinger surprised me by dragging me here to rest before the trip. We settled down just a step from the edge, on chairs that we took from the gatehouse. The wind, oddly enough, could hardly be felt on the cornice. There were no security fences, just a cliff overlooking the abyss. We were 150 feet high up and the sight was breathtaking. Falling down would mean certain death. But we had a great view of the valley below.

  The harsh beauty of the winter region greeted us with cold and showed off its white expanses. It was getting dark. The clouds that were hiding the sky during the day were thinning, revealing vague outlines of the moons peeking out from behind the snow covered mountains. For a change, I felt at peace, sitting like this, not hurrying anywhere, and doing nothing, enjoying a cup of Stinger’s invention, the so-called Tonic. It was a simple mix of melted snow and a drop of Health Potion. One didn’t have to be a Cook to come up with something so simple.

  As they say, it’s the simple things in life...

  The valley that stretched below us was two times smaller than the one in which the Seventh Seal was located. In its center was a mound, on which towered the structure needed to complete the epic. To get to it, you needed to cover a solid distance from the elevator, and then climb a narrow stone road that wrapped around it like a serpent and which lead to the Citadel. Built out of dark red granite, the complex looked majestic and mysterious from this distance. Two towers, connected by a narrow stone bridge, each a fifty feet high square column, loomed over the courtyard paved with stone and surrounded by a fortified wall.

  “A glider would be nice... Or a balloon,” I said wistfully, looking at those heights, unscalable for mere mortals, and took a sip from the cup.

  “You aren’t thinking big enough… Wish for a plane,” Stinger chuckled ironically. Since we had finished his new equipment, his mood good much better. “It still wouldn’t help, though. The barrier doesn’t let anyone in except the raiders.”

  What was true was true. The dungeon entry system allowed only “sentient objects” inside the green zone around the mound.

  And when I say “green,” I mean it literally.

  The terrain around the mound looked as if it had been torn out of another reality. It was full of green grass, bushes, and trees, without a single speck of snow. Looking at it from above, I had no doubt that this wasn’t an illusion, and that there, under the invisible energy dome, real summer reigned. This harsh contrast of green and white caused an unhealthy longing within my soul. I wanted to drop everything and run there, into that oasis that somehow managed to survive in the middle of this snowy desert, inhale the air from which my lungs wouldn’t burn, and warm my frozen bones. Oh, if I could stay there forever and forget the horror reigning outside...

  Ala
s, the Citadel ruthlessly destroyed those who dared enter. At this very moment a handful of raiders, left over from a group of twenty, which was the maximum raid size, were ingloriously dying at the bottom of the mound. The Dions, so small from the half a mile distance away, looked like ants climbing up a slide. The battle within the Sphere raged in silence and it was difficult to see the details and the enemies that were destroying them, but one thing was clear — they wouldn’t reach the top of the mound.

  “Now they definitely don’t stand a chance.” Stinger shook his head when one of the Dions, the one we took for a shaman as he wrapped up in furs, with a metal staff in his hands and an elaborate horned helmet on his head, suddenly burst into flames and fell from the serpentine like a blazing comet. “The worst thing is that it’s impossible to retreat. There’s no way out from the Citadel’s security zone. You either win, or you die.”

  “I don’t enjoy looking at how they’re being obliterated there,” I sighed sadly. “But knowing that they can’t get out of the zone and ambush me does make me feel calmer.”

  “You’re worrying for no reason. By the time we pass by the Citadel, there won’t be anyone left. But they fight well. A bit more, and they would’ve reached their goal.”

  Stinger didn’t expect us to stumble upon a Dion raid when we got to the cornice. The surprise was unexpected for both of us. Three days earlier, according to him, the Citadel was stormed by the Raksh. Since there was no TV here, this was as close to entertainment as one could get. The Raksh were less successful than the Dions. They were excellent fighters, but their march went wrong from the very beginning. Due to some mistake, they lost both their main and reserve tanks and lasted only one and a half out of three turns due to pure spite and stubbornness. Maybe it was for the better. It seemed to me that the outcasts were the ones who had to take the Citadel or there would be trouble.