by Neven Iliev
Admittedly, the two had done more than just walk. They had fought many monsters and even taken down a gang of mountain bandits. Fizzy was honing all of her new Skills after having finally reached Level 25 of her Paladin Job, while Boxxy was now a Level 46 Mimic, bringing it ever closer to its next Rank Up. The previous one had broadened its horizons significantly, so it couldn’t wait to see what tasty treats the next stage of its evolution would bring. The problem was that that particular checkpoint seemed impossible to reach before the Quest’s indeterminate deadline.
However, that wasn’t because it was sharing its XP with the pink-haired gnome it was currently ‘looking after.’ While its Mimic Level would certainly have been a good bit higher otherwise, it needed more than just a Level 50 Mimic Job to Rank Up. It also needed a Level 10 Shapeshift Skill, and that was proving to be the real problem. Training that ability had been getting harder and harder, to the point where it was currently stuck at Level 9. The monster would remain a Greater Mimic no matter its Level unless it found inspiration for new and exciting things to sculpt from its flesh. Shapeshifting wasn’t a craft that could be honed purely through mindless repetition or frequent killing, after all.
Speaking of killing – why were there so few edible things in the area? Boxxy had sensed it vaguely earlier, but it was now certain that there was a distressing absence of prey in this region of the mountain. Its question was answered several minutes later when the surrounding terrain began to change rapidly with every step. Vegetation became more and more sparse until the area was practically barren. The grass and bushes had all dried up, and the few pine trees around were reduced to nothing but bare, rotting trunks. A significant number of them had fallen over, unable to bear their own weight. It was as though the soil itself was spreading death, accompanied by the pungent stench of rot wafting on the breeze.
“Fizzy!” Boxxy called.
“Y-yes, Boxxy?”
“What is going on here? Everything looks extremely untasty!”
“Th-that’s probably because of the Blight.”
“Oh… What’s a Blight?” it asked flatly.
“It’s an undead disease. Or rather, the undead disease. It saps the life from the living and bolsters the walking dead. Where there is Blight, there is also undeath – the two are inseparable and grow exponentially over time as they feed off of each other.”
The Mimic contemplated her words.
“So… Blight creates zombies, zombies spread Blight, which creates more zombies and spreads more Blight?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Oh. That feels like cheating.”
Fizzy nodded.
“It is, yeah. There’s an entire continent that has been c-c-claimed by it, actually. The former homeland of the giants, once known as Percepeia, is now referred to as ‘the Blighted Lands.’ It’s said the undead plague is s-so thick over there that even those with divine magic just fall over dead within hours.”
“Hrmmm,” the box grumbled ponderously. “You sure seem to know a lot about it for a mushy meat-thing who never left city.”
“Y-yeah. M-m-most of that stuff came from the Holy Scripture Skill. Apparently, Paladins are frequently c-called upon to fight the living dead, so…”
“So how come my dungeon didn’t have this Blight thing?” Boxxy inquired. “There were nasty undead, but I don’t remember there being any bad stuff in the air.”
“I, uh… don’t know. Maybe dungeons follow different rules? They create life out of nothing so maybe there’s no Blight with ‘fake’ undead?”
“Mmmrrrh,” the Mimic grumbled, making Fizzy shiver at its rising displeasure. “But, can clean Blight as Paladin, yes?”
“Y-yeah! Holy magic can cleanse the land and water to get rid of it,” she hurried to confirm.
“Then won’t we run into Empire people cleaning this place?”
“Uh… maybe? I don’t think anyone knows there’s a Blight infestation in this remote part of the Sawblade Mountains yet. Subduing this thing would be a large-scale operation that would probably take, like, hundreds of people. You’d notice that many people around.”
“But won’t it spread to the humans and call them over while we’re doing the Quest thingy?”
It certainly wouldn’t do to have humans meddling with its plans, especially if there was a chance of that terrifying Spymaster arriving on the scene.
“N-no, I doubt it. Blight doesn’t exactly… move that fast.”
Even if the undead had conquered an entire continent, the disease had taken over a century to envelop it completely. It wasn’t a poison that killed quickly, but a persistent malady that drove its roots deep into every millimetre of soil it claimed. It wasn’t the sort of thing that could cover an entire town overnight. And even if the infestation were reported, the Lodrak Empire currently lacked the resources to deal with it. Any government-employed Paladin, Priest, Druid, or Shaman with the Skills to cleanse the land of the undead plague was already busy trying to keep another disaster in check. While the Blight was assuredly dangerous, the baffling toxins released by the Calamity were a far more immediate concern.
But Boxxy wasn’t aware of that. The only thing it had to go on was the word of a frightened gnome. It decided, however, that there was a reasonable chance she was telling the truth, seeing as the place she’d led them to was indeed crawling with the undead. Not to mention that it had spent the past few weeks systematically beating any sort of resistance out of her. It had been sceptical at first, but it was hard to deny the truth – especially when it was barrelling towards them down the gravelly slope.
The growling, hissing thing looked like a troll, similar to the ones Boxxy had fought in the forests around Erosa, but with two key differences. Though the creatures shared similar apelike physiques, this thing was a fair bit taller, and far more decomposed. Bits of its flesh were missing entirely and what was left of its body looked foul, rotting and crawling with maggots. It was an undead being no matter how one looked at it, though it appeared that reanimation had done little to curb its habits. Especially the one where it travelled in packs, if the five similarly ghoulish creatures behind it were any indication.
The Mimic was familiar with trolls and their stupidly thick hides and rapid healing abilities. It was also fairly knowledgeable about fighting the undead. After all, it had killed many of them during its assault on its home dungeon. It knew that zombies, skeletons, and spectres didn’t feel anything, whether it be pain, fear, hunger, or exhaustion, so hacking off a limb or two wasn’t nearly enough to stop them. Admittedly, their capability for rational thought had rotted away along with their brains, but the fighting instincts and, more importantly, Skills they had possessed in life remained largely intact. It was safe to say that undead monsters were far more dangerous than their living counterparts, so Boxxy prepared itself for a violent scrap.
It was then kindly reminded of the existence of the tiny Paladin that it had been dragging along.
“Holy Light!” chanted Fizzy.
[Your holy magic has purified the undead. Target HP -367.]
[Your target has been weakened for 6 seconds.]
A bright, yellow-green light enveloped the zombie in the lead. Black smoke burst from its body, turning bits of its already-rotting flesh to dust. A chunk of its torso and thighs disappeared, causing its left leg to snap off at the hip. The monster toppled to the ground like a stack of bricks, but it wasn’t finished quite yet. It kept crawling towards Fizzy, though its movements had clearly grown more sluggish.
“Holy Light!”
The troll’s right arm and shoulder vanished, but it kept clawing at the ground as though it were trying to bite her ankles off.
“Holy Light!”
The third Spell did the trick, completing the large, ape-like zombie’s transformation into a smouldering pile of white ash.
“I-I-I-I did it!” Fizzy shrieked in glee.
It was her first time fighting an undead and it had been a smashing
success. It hadn’t even managed to get near her! In fairness, though, this outcome was hardly a surprise. All monsters possessed an elemental weakness, commonly referred to as their Bane. Being struck by it would not only deal significant damage, but often crippled the creature as well. And given that the Bane of all undead was divine magic in any form, Fizzy’s victory against a single grunt-level zombie had been fairly certain.
She still felt elated, though.
“Boxxy! Look!” she pointed at the troll’s remains. “I did it! I–”
“Shut up and help, stupid thing!”
In her excitement, she’d completely forgotten that they’d run into a group of zombies. She might have taken one of them down, but Boxxy had moved to intercept the other five.
“… Oh, right! I’m on my way!”
She snatched up her wrench and dashed towards the fighting. The trolls had surrounded the Mimic, but the agile spider-chest was hopping about, easily avoiding their clumsy attempts to claw and bite at it. It probably could have taken their attacks and let its Mend Flesh Skill heal the damage, but there was no reason to get needlessly hurt. Pain, while necessary at times, was by no means tasty.
Fizzy barged into the scuffle, using her wrench to bash one of the creatures across the back of its knee. The limb made a disgusting snapping sound as it bent at a weird angle, forcing the creature to fall forwards. The Paladin climbed onto its back, chanting her next Spell and trying not to think about the squelching coming from underneath her.
“Consecrate!”
A ring of holy energy spread outwards, enveloping the zombies. It flowed into the soil beneath their feet, causing a gentle light to seep from the cracks in the dried-up soil.
The temporary holy ground would work in the opposite way the Blight did – by bolstering the vitality of the living while sapping the strength and speed of the undead. Boxxy took advantage of its enemies’ sudden weakness and went about beheading three of them while Fizzy crushed first the kneecaps and then the heads of two more. Their victory was so swift that they barely needed half of the twenty seconds that Consecrate’s effects allocated them.
“Fizzy,” the Mimic called.
“Heeek!” the gnome squealed. “W-w-what is it, B-B-Boxxy?”
“Good job,” it simply said.
The Paladin had finally shown that vaunted anti-undead prowess that Jerome had talked about. Granted, Boxxy probably could have handled things on its own, but it would have taken far longer. And since the Mimic expected to have to fight more and more undead as it approached the lich, it needed to ensure that its victories were fast, efficient, and easy. Merely reaching its target was going to be a gruelling enough task, and the snivelling gnome would have surely failed already had it not been for the unspeakable training regime it had been putting her through.
“No hesitation, no fear, just action,” it added. “Attention span could use some work, but still – good job.”
“Th-thanks Boxxy!” she replied, a quivering smile on her face.
And the training had certainly worked, though perhaps not in quite the way that the Mimic had imagined. Fizzy was still very much a scaredy-cat, and she’d been practically shaking in her boots the entire time, though not because of a few silly zombies. She’d been scared shitless of displeasing the chest-shaped mass of murder, which she found to be far more terrifying than a bunch of walking corpses. The fact that she hadn’t disappointed Boxxy and thus might not receive a beating today was the best news she could have hoped for.
“Where to now?” the Mimic asked.
“…”
Fizzy’s already-weak smile disappeared in an instant. Panic gripped her, as responding truthfully with ‘I don’t know’ would surely result in yet another vicious beating. And though she could heal herself now, that served merely to prolong Boxxy’s ‘lessons.’ Her tired green eyes frantically surveyed their surroundings, looking for something – anything – to divert the violent creature’s attention. Thankfully, she spotted that something almost immediately.
“There!” she shouted, pointing into the distance. “There’s a wuh-wuh-white tower over there! The li-lich is probably inside!”
Boxxy directed its gaze to where she was indicating and could indeed spot the tall, pearly-white structure in the distance. It sat atop a mountain ridge, the surrounding area grey and Blight-stricken. The pale tower stood out against the dreary background, but it was so far away that from this distance it looked smaller than a grain of rice. The Mimic would likely never have spotted it, had the gnome not pointed it out. Looking that far ahead – whether it was figuratively or literally – was not a habit it possessed.
“I see,” it responded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Fizzy sighed in relief and followed. She offered a silent prayer of thanks to Murgatroyd that Boxxy had bought her wild guess, though it hadn’t been a completely unfounded one. There was nothing but barren, dead land for kilometres around the tower and liches were supposed to be powerful, intelligent beings. It would make sense that the thing would want to hole up in a place like that rather than rough it in the barren wastelands.
They made their way towards the tower, the walking a familiar constant after three straight weeks of nothing but. Now, however, they were attacked much more frequently, fighting off an average of four packs of zombified beasts an hour. Thankfully for Fizzy, her now-much-higher END Attribute allowed her to continue marching onward without exhausting herself too much. She’d also learned that using Holy Light as an offensive Spell wasn’t worth the effort. It was far more efficient to use Consecrate to weaken the entire group, then pummel them to paste with some good old-fashioned elbow grease.
However, another enemy reared its head as they made their way into the heart of the dying land – the disease itself.
[Your body has been weakened by Blight.]
[Automatic HP recovery has been reduced by 2.6 per second.]
[Stamina recovery has been reduced by 30%.]
Boxxy was more or less fine thanks to its abnormally high HP recovery, but Fizzy was not so lucky. The degenerative condition overpowered her body’s natural healing abilities, causing her to slowly wither away as they walked. Holy Light would alleviate the ailment and temporarily restore her vitality, but it was a stopgap measure at best. Using Consecrate would cleanse the air and land around her and stave off the Blight’s effects, but she didn’t have the MP to cast the Spell every few paces.
There was also the matter of provisions. While Boxxy could simply snack on a carcass or two from its Storage, Fizzy had it much rougher. She was carrying her own food and water, which had become contaminated from prolonged exposure to the Blight. The once-crystal clear water in her waterskin was now brown and murky, while the dried meat had gone way beyond bad. It was basically dirt by the time she had attempted to actually eat it. She was also fairly certain that she had seen the grilled flank twitch in her hand as if it were trying to reanimate itself.
It took them the rest of the day to reach their destination, which left the pint-sized Paladin thoroughly exhausted, both physically and mentally. Not only had she been denied both rest and sustenance, but she’d had to help Boxxy fight off at least two hundred undead. She was dreading the trip back, but at least took solace in the fact that the Mimic seemed satisfied with her performance. Assuming, of course, that her earlier guess had been accurate.
The stone tower ahead of them was roughly seventeen metres high and seven metres in diameter. It stood on the mountain ridge ahead of them, making it the highest point in the entire Blight-covered area. The setting sun had dyed the white bricks red, highlighting the few tiny windows on its upper floors.
Both Fizzy and Boxxy recognised the structure. It looked exactly like the tower back in Erosa’s courtyard – the very same building where the Mimic had had its Jobs stripped from it.
This was no coincidence, as the organisation known as Arcaneum always used the same blueprints when building their research outposts, and this one was no differen
t. The ruins of a short stone wall could be seen around the tower, as well as the remnants of what appeared to be a few wooden houses and shacks. Part of the courtyard was separated by what had once been a sturdy wooden fence but was now little more than a line of debris. It had probably been a place for the settlers to grow crops or maybe keep farm animals, but there were no such signs of life anywhere to be seen.
The monster and the gnome cautiously approached the tower through a large gap in the outer wall. Seeing the ruined settlement up close momentarily caused Fizzy to ponder their quarry’s circumstances. Had the lich they were after once been a magical researcher here? Or had it only stumbled upon this place by chance?
She quickly dismissed such pointless thoughts, mentally preparing herself for what would doubtless be a brutal fight. She followed Boxxy closely as they approached the tower’s entrance, where the only thing remaining of its once-impressive double doors was a set of empty hinges.
The pair headed inside warily with their weapons out. The entrance hall was a large, open room that took up about half of the ground floor. The off-white stone walls and wooden floorboards were mostly bare, save for a picture frame with a ripped canvas hanging from the former and a few moth-eaten rugs covering the latter. The only piece of furniture in the place was a wooden dining table that had been snapped in two and left to rot in the corner. The air was heavy with dust and the stench of rotting flesh, the latter likely caused by the various decomposing remains strewn about the place. A trio of empty archways beckoned from the wall opposite the entrance. The left and right led into smaller rooms, while the stone staircase beyond the middle arch allowed access to the next floor.
