by Paul Kite
“We won’t wait,” the elf took out both blades from their sheaths. “You are a disciple of the Guild of Shadows, and you have a great opportunity to test your skills that you gained in training! Look,” Dazrael pushed the leaves on the ground aside with one of his swords and began to draw something on the cleared site, “two of the patrollers are here and here. And here is the entrance to the dungeon, and the group is located ten steps away from it,” he drew a line. “You will deal with the patrollers, and I will do the rest. Unlike the ones who grabbed you at Arnel’s tavern, these people are real babies. So you have to handle them without problems. And one more thing, we need to act simultaneously! I don’t know how, but immortals in these kinds of groups can communicate with each other without any special artifacts.”
“Okay,” I nodded in agreement, not explaining to him the possibilities of personal mail.
The Master of Shadows instantly went into invisibility.
“And yes, I will know when you begin to act,” Dazrael’s voice came from somewhere off to the side.
I clearly remembered the plan that the elf had drawn up. I took out one of the swords and activated the needed skill, then silently headed for the pair of patrollers.
Yeah, and there they were. Two players were sitting behind a thick, thorny bush and were talking quietly about something.
“Well, well, what are you whispering about over there?” I began to walk around the bushes and listened attentively to their conversation.
“Look, what if they start without us?” A short and grumpy player said. He was a dwarf with a fiery red beard, dressed in slightly crumpled iron armor without a helmet, rubbing the handle of a small, shabby ax nervously.
“Come on, Pankrol, why are you nagging again?! Gergie said that this dungeon is level zero, and we’ll clear it together. I know him quite well and he’s never deceived anyone. As soon as they prepare everything, he’ll send us a message.” A man in a thick leather jacket and similar trousers stopped his partner. His crossbow was cocked and the loaded bolt looked predatory through the bushes.
“I can hardly believe that there’s a zero level dungeon a dozen kilometers from Siaren. How has nobody found it before us?”
“I don’t know.” The human became angry. “We’ve found it, and it’s great. Even if he’s mistaken, we’ll still make some profit.”
“Varlog, I can only stare at bushes for so long, let’s please go back to our group?” The dwarf didn’t stop nagging.
“Gergie’s told us to wait here! So we are! Just think, what if someone comes in and kills all of us? And we fly back to the city. It takes at least a few hours to get back. And if the dungeon is level zero and he finds it too? And if any of our things are dropped? Do you have the money for clothes and weapons?”
“Nope,” the dwarf replied a little hopelessly.
“Neither do I! And if we miss anyone, we will be blamed for everything! Do you want to get on Henry’s and his clan members’ blacklist? Nothing to say to that? Yeah? I don’t want to, either! So patrol carefully!”
“Well, guys, the elf said that we need this particular dungeon, and you, excuse me for being rude, are unwanted here. And for you, it's just a game, after all,” with these thoughts, I very carefully approached the dwarf. I didn’t particularly worry about them noticing me, as their levels were under 20 and they didn’t have the specific skills needed to detect a hidden enemy.
I made a sharp sideways strike to his unprotected neck and... the skill ‘Quiet death’ worked perfectly, and besides, the double strike added a lot of damage. The dwarf immediately fell to the ground. After some time, his body will melt, possibly leaving a small bag with items behind, and the character will appear at the nearest rebirth point.
My invisibility immediately ended, and the man turned his surprised look from his dead partner toward me.
“You…” A few complicated and intertwined curses sounded, “who are you?”
I silently attacked the stunned and cursing crossbowman. He didn’t even resist. Three strikes with the sword later and the second opponent was killed.
The bodies hadn’t yet melted, when I, having waited for the invisibility to refresh, moved to the second pair of patrollers.
At the second post, there were two of Dazrael’s light elf fellows. They were a melee and a range. What was their group leader thinking about when putting such weak players on guard duty? This time they were level 22 and 30.
Hm, compared to the ‘Shadows’, even at the same levels, they really are babies. If I were an ordinary player and had level 28, I would hardly be doing so well against them.
In the Guild of Shadows, they know how to teach, and they do it very well. It doesn't matter if you’re a player or an NPC. Although, yes, for all NPCs, except Zorkhan and Dazrael, I am—due to an incomprehensible mistake of the game system—one of them. And this strange attention from the drow patron—Vegor? More precisely, as far as I know, he’s the avatar of one of the highest AIs in Noria. He helped me and for many days nothing happened. I don’t like it! I don’t like a lot of things here, only no one is interested in my opinion. They pull the strings as they want and screw what I’d like.
And this was the place where the main part of the group, headed by Gergie, should be. I walked out onto a small glade, surrounded by high, dense bushes.
“Hm,” I thoughtfully looked around the place, which was worthy of a not very expensive but still decent horror movie.
There was a bonfire and two nearly dissected human corpses nearby, one of which was roasting in the fire, in the middle of the glade. Judging by their clothes and weapons, they were warriors. A little farther away, there were three more corpses—drow, this time the corpses were whole. Although, not quite. One of them seemed to be a magician. His corpse was sprawled out without its head, which I couldn’t see nearby. And the two others were either archers or swordsmen. Long-range weapons hung behind their backs, and in their hands, separated from the body, were gripped the handles of long blades. And on top of this, closer to the bushes, there were two dwarves in heavy and very high-quality dark silver armor. There was no such obvious damage on their bodies.
“Maybe we shouldn't wait for their bodies to disappear, and for those damned immortals to return?” Dazrael came up to me completely unnoticed, as always. “We still have a lot of work to do.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” I nodded in agreement, then sheathed my sword behind my back.
The elf approached one of the bushes and, pushing the thorny branches aside, called me, “Get down,” he pointed at a wide hole that ran vertically down somewhere.
“It’s probably deep there, and dark...”
“Not so deep and it will be lighter,” the elf interrupted. “There is a special moss there, which gives off some light. We don’t need to waste the potions.”
Well, arguing was useless, and so I jumped into the hole. Yeah, and it really wasn’t deep. I looked into the hole above my head—it was about 3 or 4 yards away.
“Move to the side!” The elf shouted at me and came down next.
The hole led us into a high, practically oval tunnel, dug by an unknown creature right in the earth’s depths. It wasn’t necessary to bend down and so we stood straight, our full height easily accommodated The only inconvenience was the unpleasant dampness, puddles on the floor, moisture that covered the walls, and sometimes muddy and dirty, watery drops fell on us.
“Who dug all this?” I whistled in surprise.
“Humans, elves, and, maybe, others,” Dazrael answered, not confirming my assumption about the unknown creature. “But not animals. We are going…” The elf stopped for a moment, as if listening to something, “there.”
The first stretch of the corridor was, indeed, dark, but then, on the walls, greenish, luminous moss began to appear, and it became lighter and lighter.
The tunnel led us to a stone ledge, from which a long cave with a high vault was perfectly visible. And not far below, at the bottom of the cave, one c
ould see... goblins, or, at least, very similar to goblins creatures. They were also ugly, floppy-eared and sharp-nosed, with huge eyes. However, the color of their skin was blue-black, and they had long, sharp claws on their hands. What are these? Mmmm, and why aren't they moving? Only now had I noticed that all the creatures were in a frozen state, like statues. In addition, I didn’t notice a single child or teenager. Nor a woman. They all, without exception, were adults, male, sinewy and strong.
But these were certainly not ordinary mobs—when you look attentively at mobs, the system immediately reports what kind of creature is in front of you and what level it is. And in the case of these black goblins—we’ll call them that—I didn’t see any explanation. So, they were NPCs, which meant rationality and the possibility of communication. Well, I don’t know about rationality, and it’s difficult to communicate with statues, completely frozen in unpredictable poses.
Maybe it’s better to ask Dazrael where we’ve come and what’s in front of us?
“They are the cursed people of cave goblins—Zuraval arn Rar, so named after their totem,” the light elf, looking sadly and deeply into the cave, preempted my question. “Zuraval arn Rar is the name of a black wolf—half a god and half a beast—whom these poor people worshiped for thousands and thousands of years. And he defended them from all the dangers of this cruel and evil world. But, as the legend tells it, the ruler of the Dark Forest, Sartar, long before the guild ‘Elghinn Dal Veldrin’ appeared, wanted to clear his land of all the people not belonging to the drow race. And the few poor goblin folk, living on the outskirts of the large elvish territory, just happened to cross their path. What could the weak goblins and their shamans do to oppose well-trained warriors, archers, and drow magicians with fire and swords, that had come to their settlement? Nothing! Then, hiding in this underground cave, they called on their totem—a huge black wolf—which destroyed all the enemies. But, as you understand, the story wasn’t over. Soon, the ruler of the Dark Forest, Sartar, with his personal guard, arrived at the place where his subjects had been destroyed. He didn’t try to kill the totem of the cave goblins, realizing the futility of such an attempt, but made peace with them, giving them his permission to live and create a village in this very place, on the surface. And soon, the gifts from the ruler, with condolences about the terrible mistake that had cost many goblins and drow their lives, arrived.
But it was just Sartar’s trick. Of course he wasn’t going to let the miserable and ugly creatures live. He just temporarily postponed the destruction of the goblins, until he found an opportunity to get rid of the powerful totem. And, of course, he found it, two years later. The Daggers of Chaos, an artifact forged by a mad master, whose name had long since been forgotten in centuries past, and a spell, created by the best drow magicians in a terrible mixture of runic symbols and shamanism, the magic of death and life, could form the strongest, unbreakable connection between the goblin totem and those very weapons. And then, all that remained was to make a sacrifice and hide the daggers in the cave. To bring the artifact weapon into the cave, the drow dug up this very tunnel, of course, not personally. They attacked the goblins again, while sacrificing their women and children. Having waited for the shamans to call the totem, the elves activated the spell. In addition, Sartar had decided not to destroy all the people of the cave goblins. He left several dozens of males and, with the help of magic, turned them into wild puppets, eager only to kill and eat, trapping the goblins’ minds in the depths of their consciousness, so that they understood everything, but could do nothing. Look carefully at the platform under this ledge,” Dazrael pointed down. “Do you see the dark red spots, the bones?”
“Did he use this cave as a place of execution?” I guessed.
“Yes, quite right. Sartar was a very cruel ruler. He used the cave for that very purpose, with the embodied black wolf totem, Zuraval arn Rar, and the monsters, that the goblins had turned into. And sometimes, the person that was to be executed was given a weapon, in order to have a small chance to sell his life at a high price.”
“Why didn't the wolf destroy these goblins? After all, it would be easier to kill them than to see their torment.”
“Alas, the reasonable totem cannot harm people worshiping him, and vice versa. So he could only observe the atrocities committed by his wards here, and absorb all the horror that permeated the whole cave with choking intensity.”
“I don't want to go down there,” I told the elf honestly.
“Oh, if you’re scared of Zuraval arn Rar, that’s completely unwarranted. The incarnated totem cannot be in this world for very long. He is losing his strength. And now, after so many centuries, somewhere in the cave, the black wolf has turned into the same type of statue as these poor goblins. But, unlike them, he will never come to life.” The elf thoughtfully kicked a pebble under his foot and continued, “Unless, of course, he is reincarnated with the daggers, to which he is now bound, for a long, long period and after that, returned back to our world. But I am afraid that a person that risks such an experiment will receive a mad half god and half beast creature. And, with my supervision, you can handle the goblins easily. Of course, not quickly, you have to work with your head and blades. They aren’t weak opponents. The main thing is, if you notice the black wolf statue, and you won’t mistake it,” Dazrael grinned, “it’s the only one there, do not come near it in any way! I am afraid that all the horror that he’s absorbed has formed around Zuraval arn Rar an aura, which is probably capable of driving anyone who dares to approach the totem crazy. Alas, I don’t know the range of this little known magical power. However, if you feel something like oppressive fear and horror, signs of a slight clouding of the mind or something like that, immediately go the other away. The closer to the totem you are, the stronger the effect of this aura.”
“Oh,” I sighed ruefully.
I don’t want to go down there! The elf has decided to make me do something as tedious and annoying as farming. Of course, it’s certainly a useful pastime—the characteristics and the level of skills, used in the killing process, will increase. But there is a statue of the goblin’s totem, which I should not approach. And the daggers, representing no less danger than all the rest.
“Let’s go down to the area near the entrance,” the elf took out a coil of rope from his bag-inventory and looked around for some kind of protrusion where it could be tied. “I will bring the goblins to you one by one, and you will kill them,” the Master of Shadows began explaining as he went. “Don’t go anywhere yourself—if they attack us in a crowd, we won’t be able to fight them off. And when we finish here, we will advance further into the cave, using the same plan. At the same time, we will help these poor goblins, freeing their souls from the captivity they were forced into by Sartar.”
Standing in the place indicated by the elf, I armed myself with both swords and prepared for a fight. Dazrael, picking up a few stones from the floor (although there was enough other rubbish around here, including the weapons of the executed among the bones), began throwing them at the nearest goblin, drawing his attention. The once rational creature came to life; one hand jerked, then the other, he opened his bloodshot eyes and stared at the elf. I heard a loud roar.
“Come here,” the elf called him, moving back.
As soon as the goblin stepped onto the platform, Dazrael ordered me to attack. The first sword hit exactly the opponent’s chest, who hadn’t even tried to evade the strike, while I tried to cut one of his legs with the second one. Vzh-zhih, his claws passed in dangerous proximity to my face. Oh no, that won't do! I couldn’t inflict any wounds. Only light cuts. I wish I had a way to know what level these goblins are.
Again, I swung with the sword, but this time, I aimed it at the goblin’s hand, hoping to at least hurt it. I was hoping to eventually not have to dodge the sharp claws.
At last, I immobilized the goblin’s limb, but only on the third attempt. Yeah, you don’t like that! The monster growled in anger. Now I will remove your sec
ond hand and then kill you.
Yes, I liked this strategy more, as my direct attack didn’t give any results. I got as dirty with blood as a butcher.
The goblin, lying on the floor, jerked a couple more times, uttered his last breath and then fell silent.
“It will do for a first time,” Dazrael sneered at me. During the fight, he’d stood aside and watched my actions carefully. “Now I will bring the second.”
Everything repeated—we worked like a conveyor belt: the elf brought a goblin and I killed him quickly.
Soon we began to move deeper into the cave. Of course, several times I missed with my strikes, but the potions saved me.
But everything ends, and the goblins ended unexpectedly.
Having ignored the next system message about the increase of my characteristic and skill levels, I looked around. We stood at the very end of the cave, not far from the statue of a huge wolf.
“Don't come any closer,” the elf reminded me. “That is the incarnate goblin totem—the black wolf Zuraval arn Rar,” said the elf. “He’s awesome!”
I agreed with Dazrael. He had black, thick hair, even though it was now covered with stony dust, along massive paws and strong claws. I didn’t know about his precise height, but even now, lying down, he reached my chest.
The system again refused to explain what or who exactly was in front of me, but let's rationalize it as the totem being an NPC, and not a mob.
“If you want, you can explore the cave, maybe you will come across something interesting,” the elf suggested. “We have a little more time. Just don’t touch anything, you better call me over first! Don't forget that the Daggers of Chaos are somewhere around here,” the Master of Shadows warned me.
“Why not?” I mentally agreed with Dazrael, deciding to look around and see what I could find.
But, alas, I managed to walk only to the middle of the cave.
“They are here! I'm sure of it!” There was a loud voice, and people appeared from the tunnel—the very players we’d killed on the surface.
