A Slave in the Locked Lands

by Arthur Stone

  “Well, it’s the only one I know.”

  “You need one with mobs level 100 and above. You’d be able to clear it even without any top-level equipment, and your pet can help you snuff the boss.”

  “I wish I knew where you can find dungeons like that. The kind that no one has claimed yet.”

  “Ros, you get five points per level. Considering those received at birth, from leveling, and from rare books that you get for achievements, plus scrolls, quest rewards, and so on, an average player needs to get to level 150 to net a thousand points. I may be wrong, but not by much. So, if you drop back to 10 and invest everything into Mental Power and Intellect, you’ll be able to make some mean scrolls. It would only take one of those to one-shot a level 50, if not higher. I’ve never even heard of such scrolls.”

  “You must be exaggerating.”

  “I’m not! A hundred points of Intellect would be enough—the spell would land every time, resistances be damned. And if you dump the rest into Mental Power, those babies will do unbelievable damage. It’s a fool-proof strategy—any level 10 player with a bunch of scrolls like that can score a heroic achievement.”

  “Even so, it’s not as cool as it seems.”

  “I wouldn’t turn up my nose at it. The perks are pretty nice.”

  “You should mind the fact that the player’s equipment stats won’t affect the scroll. So it won’t be much more than hitting mobs naked.”

  “Sure. But your beefed-up stats will make up the difference.”

  “Don’t forget I have to keep my Intellect at 600 at least.”

  “That’s a bummer. Well, you could still kill mobs in their 40s even then. Might take two scrolls instead of one, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Or you could hide from everyone until the skill cools down, and keep on producing scrolls all the while.”

  “Is paper expensive?”

  “Is anything here cheap? You’ll also need special ink, which is equally pricey. Now that I think about it, you’re unlikely to turn a profit on scrolls, considering your issues, but you could still make enough for yourself. Again, I can use them to scoop up achievements and level while you take care of dungeons. We’d have to think this through properly and do some calculations…”

  “Grab your pickaxe and think it through all you want while you work.”

  Chapter 5

  Ros was sitting at the edge of a moat. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the bumblebees buzzed over the bright yellow flowers growing on the narrow strip of land between the water and the city wall. It was early enough, but he still felt drowsy, doing something he’d long tired of—namely, watching frogs. As soon as there’d be a hubbub, he’d shift his attention to the suspicious spot, and he would nearly never miss his quarry—the culprit was usually a grass snake. He’d cast Steal Essence and then vanquish the poor reptile with a Chaos Arrow.

  That was how bad he wanted to learn Strangle.

  It was his third day in Arbenne spent hunting grass snakes, cutting gems, and smelting ore. His very first city. The place where he was born as a stupid noob with skewed stats, his first experience being falling on his butt. Then he spent a few hours wandering around bug-eyed, trying to spot the differences between this place and the real world.

  That was only two and a half months ago, but it felt like an eternity. He’d changed a lot since then, but the city remained the same—just as dreary, boring, unremarkable, and in spite of all that, amazingly cozy.

  Another hapless serpent spawn gave him what he needed at last.

  “You kill the grass snake. XP received: 1. Points left until the next level: 18007. You steal the following ability: Strangle. The Strangle ability has been recorded in the pet’s spellbook.”

  It was as though Digits had been watching him—his private chat window blinked at the very same moment.

  “Yo, Ros, why so quiet? Did you fall asleep?”

  “Slaving away like a coal miner. Just got me the ability.”

  “Sure took you a while.”

  “Well, there aren’t that many grass snakes here, and the drop rate seems bungled—I killed a hundred at least, so I should have gotten it a while ago.”

  “For all of your sky-high Luck, somehow it doesn’t seem to work quite like it should. Then again, even if the smaller stuff doesn’t work out, the bigger stuff does. I’m here to report that they’re offering ninety-eight grand in gold on the forum. That’s the highest price so far, but there are plenty of bidders—there’s a dozen pages’ worth of comments already.”

  “They’ll be able to see your username on the forum and realize who’s selling it.”

  “I asked another guy from my ward to post, so the username is his.”

  “Does he play, too?”

  “He’s a beta tester like me. He can log in, but can’t actually play—he’d given it up at once.”

  “Say what?”

  “There’s something wrong with the way he perceives the game. He has brain damage, and cannot do full immersion. But he enjoys browsing the forum, and he was actually glad I asked him to do it. He’s received a bunch of private messages about the dagger—a lot of players are interested.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Where do all these folks find the money?”

  “You’re a little behind on things. It used to be cool to have an expensive yacht full of babes with silicone implants, but that stuff is no longer in vogue. These days, the biggest prestige comes with a character decked out in set and legendary pieces—that attracts so many babes that any yacht would sink under their weight. Mind you, there’s no silicone anywhere—they don’t need that crap in Second World.”

  “That’s debatable…”

  “Ever seen anyone with silicone implants here?”

  “No, but that’s not what I meant. A girl might look pretty here, and be a morbidly obese old hag in reality.”

  “Quit being such a Negative Nancy! Anyway, I bought a few rings with level bonuses, and a few other trinkets. No money left whatsoever, so we have to wait for the dagger affair to play out.”

  “Why did the Ice King Sword sell for a few million, and they’re only offering a measly hundred thousand for our dagger?”

  “Well, there are legendary items and there are legendary items. The gradation is often arbitrary. There are epics that will blow legendaries out of the water. That sword had real good stuff, and a lot of it, too. Folks still can’t believe anything like that’s possible.”

  “Is that what it is, then? Did we get a crappy legendary?”

  “Nah, it’s pretty cool. Not a crappy one for sure. Crap costs around twenty thousand. The low level is a bit of a setback. The best stuff, like that sword, is for players in the 200+ range. That’s real elite stuff, and that’s what commands the highest prices.”

  “Oh well, guess we’ll get lucky someday, too. Ninety-eight thousand will have to do—that’s pretty much what we were expecting to get.”

  “I say we wait until tomorrow. There’s a greedy oligarch who’s likely to budge and fork up a hundred and five at least.”

  “That would foil my plans. Clean Slate will cool down in a few hours, and I’ll be able to change my appearance. There’s no point in waiting.”

  “Why’s that? Are you in a hurry?”

  “Clean Slate can be leveled as well. You get a point for every use. I used it twice on myself and once on you, so it’s up to three right now. If it’s like all the other abilities, there’ll be new characteristics once it reaches ten, or the old ones will get a boost. So I intend to use it weekly, even if there’s no actual need to.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Glad you agree.”

  “Why don’t you get over here?”

  “What for?”

  “You could use it on me.”

  “Didn’t you intend to keep your locks intact?”

  “Well, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  “Not funny. I’m also sick to my guts of this appearance—I constantl
y have to block all kinds of pervs out of private chats. Where do they even come from?”

  “Pervs? I know nothing about them—I’ve never been offered anything nasty. Could it be that you’re harassing them? Tut-tut!”

  “As soon as I level Clean Slate, I’ll change your name and appearance, Digits. I’ll make you an elven maiden with legs going all the way up to your neck and D-cups, and I’ll call you Fellatio Star. Spend a week like that, and then we’ll get back to this conversation.”

  “Oh, come on! Don’t get so cranky all of a sudden. Where’s your sense of humor?”

  “What I’m saying is that I’m gonna change everything I can about me, so don’t be surprised if I write you under another name.”

  “Just as long as you’re not an orc—you promised, didn’t you?”

  “All right, you racist! I’ll become an ogre, then. See you later!”

  “Hey! Forget it! No ogres!”

  “I said, see you later.”

  Ros looked around, ignoring the flashing private chat screen—he was well aware of Digits’ bigoted views on anyone with green skin. Using Clean Slate here was not an option. A guard stood rigid on the wall, as sleepy as the rest of them, and there were a few noobs across the moat, collecting herbs to sell or to work their Alchemy.

  He’d have to find a place with no other players around, or Clean Slate wouldn’t work. The nearby copse would be his best bet—the very one where he had removed Digits’ stat locks. He’d only have to cross the bridge, and he’d be a new man in a matter of minutes.

  The gate guards paid Ros no attention. It was a hot day, and the soldiers were lazy, dozing off in the shadow with their backs against the wall. It had been a while since the Russian raid, and they felt relaxed, having forgotten all about the recent siege.

  But he shouldn’t have been criticizing others for the very faults he exhibited himself, for not two minutes later Ros would learn the painful lesson that he was just another sleepy, carelss chump.

  A double strike crushed both his ankles. He felt pain flare up; next came a flash that made his body immobile.

  “Zatoichi hits you for 546 damage. Critical damage sustained: your tendons have been severed. Negative effect received: you cannot stand. Negative effect received: you have been paralyzed.”

  Everything went dark, including the interface.

  “Negative effect received: you have been blinded.”

  Ros couldn’t see or feel anything, but he could swear someone was dragging his helpless body somewhere.

  That boded nothing good.

  Who could have attacked him? Why? What did they want?

  Brigands? He didn’t think so. The environs of Arbenne weren’t their territory. This was a miner town, with every newbie a worker, and they didn’t spend much time on their own, mostly working in mines on long-term contracts. You’d go postal waiting for an easy mark—there weren’t that many players over level ten, and attacking a level zero noob presented certain problems.

  Or could Ros have run into a stray gang? But why would they want him alive? Did his character’s looks cloud their feeble minds? Could a female character in the game be overpowered against her will? It was supposed to be impossible, after all.

  But what if it wasn’t?

  Ros started to think of easy suicide methods, as he really didn’t want to wait and find out the answer.

  Damn! A few more hours, and he would have changed his appearance!

  Anyway, these were unlikely to be bandits—the attack was too professional. They needed Ros alive, and hadn’t intended to kill him. The stealthed assassin had slashed his tendons with knives or daggers. Typically, a hit in the legs shouldn’t deal much damage, but here he’d lost 500 HP off at once. He must have been level 200 at least—such classes made up for their relatively weak attacks with sheer speed. So, a little over 500 in this case counted for a lot. Even a level 100 player couldn’t deal so much damage to a level 44 in light armor worn by mages.

  Apart from severing his tendons, the assailants used control skills. Blinded and stunned, Ros had been thoroughly incapacitated, and his condition persisted since. And that was notwithstanding his belt that had an eleven percent chance of reflecting debuffs onto whoever would try to use them on him. This meant that some the players might eventually become incapacitated themselves, but it didn’t help Ros much in this case.

  They had come after him. They tracked him, bided their time, and abducted him.

  What would happen next?

  What happened next was that his eyes began to register light.

  * * *

  “We got her.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Perfect. She never made a move. We were actually surprised a bit.”

  “Did anyone see you?”

  “Nope, we never lost control. We’d even got some noobs to walk around pretending to gather herbs.”

  “Get some extra guards and take her to the citadel.”

  “Why not use a teleport?”

  “We’ve already discussed that. No one can guarantee that he, or she, or whoever that is, won’t be able to pull some trick with the teleport. You cannot just drag someone through—they’d have to walk on their own and express consent to be transported. Why the hell would we need that? Are you sure everything’s under control?”

  “OK, I get it. It will take us about a week, no earlier. And that’s if we’re quick and make no stops along the way.”

  “We’ll wait. Just keep this one controlled all the time.”

  “We used an ellerium cage tempered in dragon’s blood and enchanted by control mages. The mana reservoir should last a day, and they’ll refill it twice daily, so that’s it for the transportation.”

  “OK, get back in the game. We’re waiting for you.”

  A telephone conversation between officers of the J_P guild.

  * * *

  “Third party meddling detected in the gaming process of Object #1-7. The short-term forecast is that Object #1-7 will lose personal freedom for the standard duration. Reciprocal meddling recommended.”

  “The reason being?”

  “Lack of stability in the events.”

  “An interference has already been made.”

  “The level of interference is insufficient.”

  “I’m expecting a forecast.”

  “If events are allowed to play out without interference, there will be negative consequences. Greater instability is likely. I insist that Object 1-7 is to be preserved temporarily. Long-term goals stipulate that we interfere in the gaming process or introduce a change scenario. I recommend using all available capacities for the execution of the second option.”

  “What would be the nature of direct interference?”

  “Providing a minimum amount of information to Object #1-7.”

  “Confirmed. And what is the event scenario?”

  “Locked Lands: The Falling of the Gates.”

  “How will that affect Object #1-7?”

  “Third party meddling will be neutralized. We can preserve the object within the scope of the ‘Locked Lands: The Falling of the Gates’ scenario.”

  “Under this option, Object #1-7 will be confined to the zone affected by the ‘Locked Lands: The Falling of the Gates’ scenario.”

  “That is a short-term prospect. Eventually, he will be given a chance for freedom and self-determination. If we accept the scenario and interfere in his gaming process, we will correct his actions as required. According to the forecast, the actions of Object #1-7 require minimum interference. There is a chance that no interference will be required whatsoever. In that case, the only reason for us to meddle will be to find extra personnel.”

  “Accepted. Countdown confirmed.”

  “Attention! This is a public announcement. “The countdown for the Locked Lands: The Falling of the Gates scenario initiation has started. Location: Rallia Province, Western Empire, North American sector. Scenario implementation zone: Locked Lands, Rallia Province, an
d adjacent provinces. In the event of the scenario unfolding in a suboptimal way, the implementation zone may be expanded upon additional confirmation that its local status can be switched to global. Scenario open phase duration: until the stabilization of events. Stabilization phase: conflicting parties signing an agreement. If no stabilization occurs after an agreement is signed, an aggravation scenario is possible.

  “Accepted. Locked Lands: The Falling of the Gates scenario initiated. Initiating the development of the aggravation scenario.”