Occultist

by Oliver Mayes

  He’d ruled out all of the morning’s events before he found a serious contender.

  12:30pm – The Maw – 10-player raid.

  Illydin, Roranoa, Azreal59, Jinks, Dryfus, Shankyou, Rhinohide, Metalstorm (two spaces remaining).

  The dungeon was close, just a small way into the next territory. It would only take twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes to get there. Off to a good start, then. The mobs were levels 15 to 19, with a nasty-looking level 20 final boss: ‘The Boulder’. Sounded like a riot.

  He looked up the players via their online profiles. The guild already had the party components that were hardest to get: two tanks and two healers. He kept digging and discovered that Metalstorm was a gunslinger; a hidden damage based class, much like his own, that had been discovered a couple of weeks into Saga Online’s grand opening. The two empty slots were probably reserved for more damage-based characters. Fortunately, none of the players currently signed up were over level 20, except one.

  The assassin, ‘Shankyou’, was level 23. Damien would have to be careful not to get seen by that one, or else he’d end up in a very difficult situation. Assassins had good PK'ing move sets without even trying, so one more than double Damien’s level could snuff him out with ease.

  Still, with a little luck and a lot of caution he could probably find a way to take him out. Especially if he leveled up a little more beforehand.

  His main concern was the unknown slots. If Damien logged on tomorrow and some level 30 do-gooder had decided to boost the group, the whole thing would become almost impossible. Well, no good worrying about that now. He’d just have to get to the dungeon, find a safe vantage point to watch the players gather and see who showed up.

  Just like that, Damien had a plan.

  He gratefully pulled the IMBA set off his head and stored it away, finishing his water before tilting the pod back to horizontal. It was 22:45. What a day. He reached out to turn off the display and the pod went dark, save for the outlines of the various buttons.

  His thoughts went back to his mother and he briefly considered pulling out the IMBA set again to see if he could find out anything about her situation online. He managed to stop himself, but only just.

  If CU was trying to find him, monitoring internet searches for Cassandra Brades would be a smart way to go about it. It seemed like a low possibility, but it was still a possibility of him being hauled out of his pod half asleep and escorted to a detainment facility. He’d have to find a safe way of checking up on her later.

  Damien turned up the heat a little and rolled onto his side. Even though he was so tired, his mind couldn’t help but replay the many events of that day. His thoughts lurched uncontrollably between ecstasy and dread, pride and shame until after many fitful attempts he fell into a close approximation of sleep.

  17

  Day Two

  Damien soon found that waking up in a pod was even less pleasant than going to sleep in one. Opening his eyes to find a padded wall in front of his nose felt much like waking up in a coffin. Following a brief panic while his brain rebooted, he managed to find the button to display the time. 10:23. He’d overslept, but all things considered that was no surprise. At least it wasn’t too late to go and get some breakfast, if he hurried.

  Damien slung his bag on his back, scooped up the headset under his arm and paced towards the door.

  “Good morning, little man. How was your stay?”

  He looked at the counter, behind which stood his wizened host. Gian wasn’t actually looking at him; he was too busy tapping madly at his phone screen while various laser sounds blared out of it.

  “It was great, thanks. Just getting breakfast and I’ll be right back.”

  “No worries, you’ve got the pod until noon… unless you want to go again?”

  Damien couldn’t believe his luck. He’d no sooner started worrying how to extend his stay than it was practically done for him.

  “Yeah! I mean, yes, please, that would be perfect. Thanks.”

  The laser battle ceased and Gian looked up at him knowingly.

  “No worries. Heck, I’d feel guilty letting you go. You’re better off here than in some unsanctioned dive, which is all you’ll get without ID. You pay, I let you use my credentials – we make a good team.”

  Damien smiled and took his mom’s card out to sign up for another night in the pod. That was one more worry off his list. As long as he had this place he could focus on what mattered. Feeling much happier than when he’d woken up, he let Gian get back to his game, jammed the headset on and headed out into the street.

  It didn’t take long to pick up a couple of sandwiches, but on the way back he spotted a sunglasses stall that hadn’t been there the previous day. While the enhanced items were outside of his budget, there was a discount bin full of regular sunglasses off to one side. Damien found a pair of scratched-up aviators with wide, face-covering lenses and quickly paid for them. He wouldn’t have to wear the IMBA set when he went outside anymore.

  His work done, he returned to the sanctuary of his pod so he could eat in private. He finished the first sandwich and checked the time. 10:47. If he logged on at 11 he’d have enough time to sort himself out before he headed to The Maw. He decided to use the last few minutes to take a much-needed shower while he reviewed his plan.

  Damien knew how elite dungeons worked but he’d never actually been to one in Saga Online before. Well, besides The Downward Spiral, but that didn’t count.

  Elite dungeons posed a much greater challenge than the regular caves and encounters scattered around Arcadia, which is why they had to be done in groups. For the sake of extra immersion and realism, the dungeons weren’t disconnected from the world map and replicated for multiple groups at once, like other online RPGs. Everyone in Arcadia had to fight over the limited dungeon spawn rates. They would reset eventually, but their non-instanced nature created competition between players: letting another group complete the dungeon before you would mean a lack of loot until the next reset.

  The Downward Spiral was an exception. Defeating Bartholomew had put an end to all cultist…occultist…activity in the region. It had been a one time offer with permanent consequences for the game lore. Rising Tide hadn’t posted the footage from that particular fight, letting the various Empire NPC’s confirm their victory instead. Aetherius had remained tight lipped regarding why he wouldn’t allow the footage to be shared, but eventually the word got out: of the forty players who entered, only a handful survived. Apparently, it had not been an impressive victory.

  In the case of The Maw, Damien would be hoping to take advantage of Rising Tide being distracted as they dealt with the harder elite mobs of the dungeon. While they had all their tanks and melee fighters up front, Damien would be free to pick off the healers, spellcasters and ranged units in the back. The players might be higher in levels, but the back line would have the squishiest targets and they’d all be looking the other way.

  It was a lovely theory, but there were all sorts of things that could go wrong.

  If he didn’t make his first strike count, the party would turn around and decimate him. If he didn’t know where Shankyou was he wouldn’t be able to attack at all. He’d just have to watch carefully and wait for the right moment.

  Damien finished his shower, drying himself off with a blast of warm air before getting dressed and hurrying back to his pod. Fed, watered and washed, he was ready to go. He jammed the headset back on and set the pod horizontal to log in.

  His eyes hadn’t even adjusted to the darkness before a gleeful squawk sounded out some distance in front of him. There was a low whoosh of air and a light weight dropped onto his shoulder.

  “Hey, Noigel. All the constructions complete?”

  The imp flitted off his shoulder and flew toward the end of the base, landing lightly on a raised stone platform in front of the back wall. Damien’s eyes were still adjusting, but for once it wasn’t necessary to wait: his newest structure was bathing its surroundings in faint
blue light.

  It was a flight of stairs leading up to a flat plateau, about the same height as Damien. He strode up the steps, taking in his newest building. Rock-hewn spheres spun lazily in a ring rising into the air, held together by strands of blue mana. Each of the spheres were slightly different sizes and bore different sets of symbols; one was covered with engraved numbers, another was filled with scratchy infernal runes. The whole effect cast a dim glow over one side of Damien’s base.

  “Admiring your new structure, I see.”

  Bartholomew was standing on the platform with him. He made a mental note to try and catch him first next time.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty neat. How do I use it?”

  The words had hardly left his lips before Bartholomew tapped him on the head.

  ‘Portal Unlocked!’

  Damien went into his Skills tab to check it out.

  Portal: Mana cost: 100, Channeling cost: 10 MpS, Casting Time: 10 Seconds – You open a portal back to the nearest allied Gateway. The portal remains open until you cancel the spell, you run out of mana to channel the spell or the Gateway is destroyed. You cannot use this spell in dungeons or while in combat. Upon entering combat, the portal will close within ten seconds. Passing through the portal yourself will automatically cancel the spell.

  “Great, now I won’t have to waste time traveling back. How about the Soul Well?”

  Bartholomew simply pointed toward the center of the room, where there stood a rather different-looking structure than the one Damien had left. The dome was still there, but it had become the foundation of something more. The imps had spent the night piling stones around it in a square before laying a great stone slab on top.

  It looked like a makeshift picnic table, but the runes etched into the surface hinted at something a little more sinister. Damien inspected it briefly and found it now had a maximum Soul Capacity of 20. A new side objective for him to fulfill. His second imp was dozing underneath it, in an idle state after finishing its tasks.

  It was only then Damien remembered he would need to start his own task, accumulating souls and minions before he got to The Maw. It would be better to start early than late. Besides, he still needed to test the new spells and gear he’d received yesterday.

  “All right, Bartholomew, I’m heading out. I’ll be back later.”

  “Hold on. You’re leaving very suddenly, without even asking for quests. What are you scheming?”

  “I’m heading out to attack a group of Rising Tide players. Sorry, I don’t think I’ll be doing any quests today.”

  Damien had expected a lot of pushback, possibly even a tirade, but all he got was a hum of understanding and an approving nod.

  “I’m glad to see you’re pressing your agenda. Still, there’s no reason why you can’t perform some errands on the way. Where is your hunt taking you?”

  Damien laid out his plan, explaining his discovery of Rising Tide’s raid schedule and his decision to attack a party entering The Maw. Bartholomew was stroking his chin and nodding until Damien mentioned the name of the dungeon.

  “The Maw? The creatures there are out of your league. The same can likely be said for any group of heroes seriously attempting it. Are you sure this is wise?”

  Damien knew Bartholomew had a point. This was much more dangerous than what he’d done yesterday, and catching up on sleep hadn’t left him as much time to prepare as he’d wanted. Even so, he’d already spent the night planning it out and wasn’t going to let his efforts go to waste.

  He was committed.

  “I don’t know if I can do it, but I’ll just have to try my best. I won’t be ready to kill Aetherius unless I gain more experience.”

  Bartholomew scratched his head and shifted uncomfortably, his lower body shimmering below him before fading out of vision again. He looked both concerned and indecisive, a pair of emotions that were decidedly not at home on the vampire’s desiccated face. At last, he shrugged and resigned himself to Damien’s choice.

  “I am against this, but given your lack of time I don’t see a more sensible alternative. Just be careful; it would be a shame to lose the fine craftsmanship I put into your robes after I gave them to you only yesterday.”

  Oh. So that’s what he was concerned about, Damien thought. I should have known.

  “Yeah, sure. Thanks. So, you have anything you want me to do around The Maw?”

  Bartholomew snorted.

  “I think not. I hadn’t planned on sending you in that direction until tomorrow, assuming you lived that long. I won’t prevent you from leaving, but nor will I add to your self-inflicted burden…. wait, there is one thing you can do. Gather up any metal you find on your travels. I need it for my own projects, and whatever is left will be very helpful to you in the near future.”

  The words had no sooner been spoken than a new quest – ‘Rock? Heavy Metal!’ – flashed up in Damien’s peripheral vision. He needed twenty units of iron in order to complete it. That would be more than Damien could hope to find in one trip, unless he abandoned his plans and went spelunking instead.

  “What kind of quest is this? One day you’re having me kill Rising Tide members, the next you want me to grab a pickaxe and mine iron?”

  “Not at all. That would be a waste of even your paltry talents. There should be at least some quantity of metal lying around after you’ve executed your ambush. If you’re successful, anyway.”

  That single observation changed the quest from a long, boring grind into one that fit his own agenda perfectly.

  “Ah… I see. Right. That’s actually not a bad idea.”

  “Naturally, it’s one of mine. I’ve got another one for you as well, at no extra charge: you should get a move on if you don’t want to miss your deadline.”

  Damien checked the time and saw it was already 11:10. Just as always, the closer he got to a deadline the faster the time seemed to pass him by.

  He looked back to say a hasty goodbye and found that Bartholomew was hastier. He’d vanished, again, even while standing right in front of him. He was nothing if not consistent.

  Without a word, Damien gathered up his two imps and started the long trap-laden trek to the world above.

  18

  Cry Havoc

  It was only when he reached the edge of the forest that the difficulty of the task ahead really set in. It was broad daylight outside. Damien had always known this would be a problem, yet somehow it seemed considerably worse when it was staring him in the face.

  He checked the map once more to confirm he’d made the right choice. The roads might be more convenient, but that was no good since they were also full of NPC patrols. Even if he somehow avoided them, there was an Empire guard post set at the chokepoint between zones. Damien didn’t fancy his chances of getting through there.

  He’d researched an alternate route that would allow him to avoid trouble: a cavern off to one side that passed through the mountain range at the border and into the next territory, used almost exclusively by players on the Empire’s naughty list.

  With luck, the cavern would also be an ideal place for him to gather souls and accumulate more minions before he got to The Maw.

  It wasn’t going to get any better than that.

  He picked through the undergrowth on the edge of the wood, exiting on the far side so the forest itself would block his view to the road and vice versa. Noigel quickly flapped onto Damien’s shoulder and scouted all around them while they were on the move. The remaining imp followed close behind, whining and nervous but still obedient to a fault. Just over an hour to go until the Rising Tide party were due to start The Maw.

  Damien was right to have been worried about traveling during the day. It was only a fifteen-minute trip from his base to the edge of the territory, but they still had to hide on three separate occasions when Noigel spotted travelers.

  There was nothing for Damien to do but take shelter behind the nearest cover and wait until they passed by. He pushed on in the gaps, grateful that
his raised agility and endurance stats were helping him move faster.

  Despite the advantage of his gear, what should have been a quick trip ended up going excruciatingly slowly. Occultists clearly had their drawbacks.

  By the time he reached the edge of the mountain range and successfully found the cavern entrance, Damien had barely thirty-five minutes left before the raid was scheduled to start. Time was compressing. He ran straight in without a second thought, relieved to get out of the open yet panicking that he was so far behind schedule.

  It was only when he hit the spider’s web that he realized there was more to be worried about.

  Webbing covered his face and bound his eyes shut. The rest of his body followed and in no time at all Damien was completely ensnared. A piercing multi-toned screech came from the ceiling above.

  “Noigel! Cut me loose!”

  A pitiful wail from his shoulder indicated this was unlikely to happen. He’d carried Noigel straight into the web with him. As the two of them kicked and struggled, Damien felt the web sag with the weight of an extremely undesirable third occupant. The landlord, depending on how you looked at things. Only this landlord would be extracting a very different kind of revenue.

  Damien thrashed in the web again, only succeeding in entrapping himself further. He could feel Noigel on his shoulder kicking against him to try and free himself, but the imp had no more success than Damien. He felt a long stick scrape down his head and against his face, the pointed tip gouging into his cheek. In his desperation he fought to grab it so he could pull himself free. It was only when it recoiled at his motion that the realization hit him. It was one of the spider’s legs!