by Arthur Stone
Once he overcame the tremors, which were an absurd thing in a virtual environment, Eric headed towards the gate. It kept getting closer and closer. It loomed over him like a rock, and was whiter than chalk. What was it made of? No one knew the answer, but it was certain that not a single weapon in Second World could so much as scratch it. It wouldn't get opened by force or cunning. It had to open all by itself.
Someone who's worthy.
Killing the Last Guard of the White Hall did not give Eric the necessary title. He still hoped, though, that there may have been an error in how the quest conditions were formulated—those happened often enough in Second World.
Unfortunately, this wasn't the case now. Once there were but a few paces left between him and the door, he heard the rumble of a loud, dispassionate voice.
"Only the Greatest Hero of All Times can enter the White Hall of the Departed Gods. Only the Greatest Hero of All Times can bring his friends to the White Hall of the Departed Gods. Get away from the door, you pesky human, for you are unworthy. Else you shall be struck by a curse that spans all three worlds!"
Eric stopped, took a cautious step backwards, and turned around. That was it. There was nothing left for him to do so far. The quest reached a dead end, and it was up to the others to find a way out. He would only be present during the important stages of the quest—which may already be failed.
They'd been forced to skip three stages—those could not be accessed because of the catastrophe caused by that weird noob. It might have been the very reason they were stuck in front of the white door now.
The game didn't react well to hasty players.
Chapter 15
Marchikatidi entered the room where Ros was preparing for battle a moment after the latter had summoned his pet—a Swamp Jaroor. The very name implied that the creature would not look too pretty. Ros couldn't use this crystal previously—the sum of his character level and his Summoning skill values was insufficient, and now he had to account for that. Gone were the days when his ability was unlimited. However, the Ring of Perfidy helped him overcome this problem somewhat.
The Korean made the sound assumption that Ros would get the ring anyway, so it might as well happen before the battle. It would make his champion just a little bit stronger, and every trifle mattered now.
"What is this thing?" asked Marchikatidi, sounding somewhat disgusted.
"A Swamp Jaroor."
"I've never seen their like before."
"They live in the Locked Lands. I would normally encounter them near swamps and around small ponds with brackish water."
"Looks revolting."
"That's good."
"Why, pray?"
"There's a chance that the opponent will get sick from revulsion, and I'll take advantage of that opportunity."
"Your opponent won't get sick. Don't even count on it."
"One can always dream, though."
"Is everything ready?"
"You have promised a high-level buff for myself and my pet."
"The buffers are waiting outside the door. Some of them wear off very quickly, so it's best to wait as long as possible before they're cast."
"Digits told me I'd be facing a clan fighter."
"That's right."
"That complicates matters somewhat. His clan is likely to have bonuses that will make him stronger."
"That is indeed the case."
"A level 117 warrior with a lot of experience playing PvP and excellent equipment chosen to fit his tactics, and a member of a clan, which must give him a few considerable advantages, to boot. On the other hand, you have me—a level 67 noob, a habitual PvE player, with the kind of equipment I managed to pick up as I went along, and not a clan member. Are you sure I'm the one you want to place your bet on?"
"It gets boring when you don't take any risks."
"Yeah, you've already told me as much."
"So I placed my bet on you."
"Thanks, but you didn't have a choice, did you? I'm your champion, after all."
"Your friend has also placed a bet on you."
"It's just that he has come to have more faith in me than other people have in their deities."
"I'm not surprised. Considering the fact that I have invested a considerable sum into this battle, why don't we try to level the playing field a little?"
"Well, we can certainly try."
"I was referring to clan bonuses."
"Heavens, no!"
"Is anything wrong?"
"Can you imagine how many clans would do anything to make me join?"
"But you haven't joined any clan yet.
They were all too officious, and that's a quality I have no liking for."
"As you can see, I'm a clanless player, too. But I could make an exception in your case. We could join one of the stronger guilds I know together, and I would represent your interests there."
"Is that why you got into this battle business in the first place?"
"Of course not. I'm interested in the battle itself, but why not do some business on the side?"
"What exactly do you intend to represent there? What kind of interests?"
"A hero like you is a dream catch for any guild. Right now, they'll let you use their crest without any conditions, just for the duration of the battle; later on, I'll do my best to make sure they compensate your participation fair and square. Twenty percent of their payments, for instance. I'm just mentioning this figure out of the blue; we'll have enough time to discuss everything yet. Our time is running out, and the battle is going to be a tough one. Accept the offer. No one will keep you from leaving the guild whenever you like.
"What guild is it, anyway?"
"It's from the Eastern Sector; the name would be hard for you to pronounce. It ranks eighth among the local clans. They're decent players, and they'll respect any decision you'll make."
"And they must be hoping to rank a little higher once I join them."
"Why 'a little'? They aim for the very top, which makes total sense. They don't offer that many bonuses—there are others who could make you a much better offer. On the other hand, when you play here, in the Western Sector, you won't meet many enemies of the clan, which is convenient for a player who does not like to participate in battles."
"Well, I've just been busy with other stuff."
"In that case, you can fill that gap in your experience, if you wish. They even train newbies, if you feel you need some practice."
"If I decide to stay in this guild, will it be possible to let a few other players join?"
Marchikatidi went silent for a few second, apparently consulting with someone over the game chat, and then nodded,
"No problem. You'll be given the authority to recruit ten players. Should you need more, we can always discuss it."
"All right, let's do it. Every single point is precious right now."
"That's a reasonable choice."
"Piper at the Gates of Dusk from the province of Achon in the Free Land of Kwarchenju invites you to join the Slayers by Birthright guild. Guild level: 62. Attention! In order to see the name of the guild as it is written originally, enable Chinese character support in the game’s interface settings. Accept invitation? Yes/No."
Ros was still hesitating when he asked,
"Your guild is Korean, but the name's in Chinese characters."
"You won't find many Chinese characters used in Korea these days. I will tell you about all the nuances of how Hanja[1] is used someday, but we have no time for that now.
However, this isn't a treatise on the specific aspects of Far Eastern writing systems.
"Attention! "You have accepted the invitation! Congratulations, you have joined the Slayers by Birthright guild! Guild level: 62. Attention! In order to see the name of the guild as it is written originally, enable Chinese character support in the game’s interface settings. Your rank: Novice."
"That seems to be it," said Ros hesitantly. "I can't see any bonuses."
"Just
wait a few seconds," replied Marchikatidi, smiling enigmatically.
Ros swayed for a moment. A flurry of flashes of different colors ran all across his body. His HP bar flickered a little, shrinking a bit; the same happened to his MP bar, albeit to a lesser extent.
"Attention! You have joined a level 62 guild. You receive the following bonuses:
+28 to your primary base stats.
+5 to your secondary base stats.
+1 to your auxiliary stats.
Your Strength increases by 19.
Your Agility increases by 12.
Your…"
Ros studied the lengthy log brimming with good news and shook his head.
"Not bad. Not bad at all. I expected fewer bonuses by far. I didn't even know you could benefit so much from joining a guild."
"The Slayers have been collecting bonuses for a long time. But they've just told me that they got a lot more useful things from you."
"Hardly in terms of stat points. I can't compete with them in that respect."
"Stat points are not the most important thing. It's all about XP. Any bonus to that is priceless. As far as I can see, you have a lot of that, and you can share with others."
"Well, it's up to them. Stats are more important to me right now than XP bonuses."
"Attention! Piper at the Gates of Dusk changes your title to "Honorary Guest." Attention! Piper at the Gates of Dusk gives you the following clan rights: you can recruit up to ten members."
Digits peeked into the room.
"The dancing girls are about to finish. We're up next. Are you ready? Hey! Ros! What are those Chinese characters above your head?"
"Well, I had to join a clan."
"What kind of clan?"
"It's Korean. I can recruit you, too, if you want."
"Does it mean we'll have to eat kimchi and pickled ferns all the time?"
"It's our turn," Marchikatidi stood up. "You can discuss your gastronomical preferences later on."
* * *
"But this Asian character bet a million in gold on the noob. And other betters are supposed to be mere proxies, or, at least, those are the rumors. So he's at the center of it all."
"Oh, come on, he doesn't stand a chance. Level 67 against level 67. Basic skills suck, and the noob has no access to the stuff you get once you reach 100. He's done for, I'm certain about that."
"The Korean wouldn't make such a bet if it was a sure loss."
"Well, he's one of the folks that can afford it. Do you know who he is in real life? Losing a few million is like sneezing a few times to him. He's very keen about his betting. He had already lost a few small fortunes, keeping perfectly calm about it."
"But those bets were on things that could go either way. And this noob doesn't have a single chance of winning. Who the hell is this Bubble, anyway?"
"The rumor has it, there's a lot more to him than meets the eye."
"But no one's ever heard of him, while Bowlegs is a celebrity. He ripped a level 152 player apart last week without even giving him a chance. He's an animal. And here they put him up against a level 62, and this Korean got everyone agitated by placing all those insane bets. Could it be some advertising trick? Is he trying to boost his reputation like that?"
"He could have done it in a much cheaper and easier way. Say what you will; I'm putting a thousand on the noob."
"Kiss your money goodbye. The odds are eleven to one in favor of Bowlegs."
"That means I'll get eleven thousand if I win."
"Hold your horses. By the beginning of the battle the noob will take such a beating that you may even receive twenty-five. Theoretically, that is."
A private chat near the Obsidian Temple Arena.
Chapter 16
Marchikatidi kept silent, but Digits was impossible to shut up.
"He's a knuckleduster fighter. His attacks are nothing much; he doesn't hit all that hard. But he uses both hands and he hits real quick. He also has enough control spells for two. Don't let him come near you, or he'll never let you leave the spot, making quick work of you. At such speed, critical damage happens often enough, especially since he knows where and how to hit. He usually removes his armor, which makes him even faster, but he keeps all his knickknacks on. For a battle like this, he'll wear every accessory with bonuses to Magical Defense. Did you get any new spells at the Mages' Guild?"
"Of course I did. I've also had four mugs of beer, and now I'm absolutely certain of my victory."
"You should be grateful you can't piss yourself in the game. The audience would love it. So, you have a debuffing spell, do you?"
"I do, but I've hardly managed to level it up. Thus, I'll have a greater chance of missing; meanwhile, Bowlegs has a high level and accessories that increase his resistance."
"Well, that sucks. His buffs are really powerful."
"So are mine."
"But he can use those with a level restriction. And there are a few really neat ones that you can access starting with 100. If you can remove those, you're in luck."
"Keep cool, Digits, I've heard it all already. Marchikatidi has been going on and on about it."
"Well, as long as you remember. We have faith in you. And we've placed huge bets on you, too."
"I'll do my best."
"Did you bind next to the temple?"
"I did not. If I die, I'll respawn a long way from here, and will immediately become unavailable. Communications don't work very well over there."
"Well, you know better, I guess."
A really tiny dwarf entered the circular arena covered in shiny black sand, and roared in a voice that belied his height,
"Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome! It is once again that the most excellent Bowlegs graces our arena. Many know him as the Bloody Knuckleduster! That's because of his choice of weapons and the rivers of blood he had spilled! His opponents' blood, har har har! He is known for his many victories in unevenly-matched fights, mage killer extraordinaire, and also an expert in military theory, whose forum posts became an encyclopedia for millions of noobs! Without further ado, I bring to you our good old Bowlegs!"
One couldn't have said that the warrior's appearance (he had been hidden under a magical veil, just like Ros) caused a furor or a standing ovation. There were hardly two hundred spectators at the arena. A trifle, given the venue's capacity. You had to pay an entry fee, though, so most viewers had to content themselves with live feeds. But in cases when the fights are really of interest, which happens often, the arena can be packed to capacity.
Ros could already tell it well enough that the majority of the audience were more than simple players. There were top clan representatives, public figures, and Second World's most successful businessmen. He saw many of their faces in the press that he studied earlier on. Such people can keep their emotions reined in, so a cold reception was only to be expected.
Indeed, Bowlegs did not encumber himself with heavy armor that would slow down his movement speed and attack rate. They wouldn't be much use against magic, anyway, so the choice may have been right. On the other hand, it had its flaws, and Ros had something he could fight back with. His opponent even took off his shirt, showing off his muscled torso.
Bowlegs raised his arms to show the audience the knuckledusters with emerald spikes that he was wearing. Some of the audience cheered.
His guild was noteworthy—the "Jeeps." Ros had the dubious pleasure of dealing with its members already. Those guys were serious. Even if their fighters weren't the best out there, they were good enough. The clan consistently ranked near the very top of the list, and had a lot of clout all across the Western Sector and nearby territories.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen please welcome our other fighter! It is the first time that we have the pleasure of seeing the inimitable… Oops, sorry!" the dwarf's canned joke made some of the audience laugh in a restrained manner. "It is the first time that we see a fighter called Bubble! No one's heard of him! He's a mystery veiled by dark magic! A necromancer who
came to us right from a sinister crypt! No one knows who he is, what he can do, or what he will show us! Let's hear it for the mystery fighter and wish him to make his first fight unforgettable for everyone present! But not too short, either! Har har har! Without further ado, I bring to you Bub-be-leh!"
There was no applause at all—just a few jeering remarks to the effect that Ros was a noob, and the fight was fixed and a disgrace in general.
Ros didn't mind, but the dwarf did. He waved his hands and yelled,
"I know you're thinking the game is fixed—the odds on Bowlegs run at nineteen to one, and a lot of money has changed hands! But you need to remember that the Obsidian Temple Arena would never allow for a fixed match to take place! All of the players' actions are under control! No one can cheat or try and throw themselves at the enemy to get knocked out! It's all perfectly fair!"
Ros could barely keep from grinning. He could think of a hundred ways of losing the match with no one being the wiser. You didn't need to cheat. You could just avoid advantageous tactics, fumble spells and abilities, and disregard how the damage you deal corresponds with that you receive. Apart from levels and everything else, the most important component of success was skill. If you didn't have it and were clueless in general, you were doomed.
"The duelists are to take their positions on the red marks at the opposite sides of the arena's center! Ready?! All right! Fight to the death!!!"
Bowlegs took off immediately—like a sprinter trying for a new record. But Ros was prepared, and immediately cast Sleep. That was the first glitch—the spell misfired, although he'd chosen the equipment that increased the chance of success. Entangling Roots were more successful—the warrior froze right in the middle of the arena.
And was attacked immediately by the Swamp Jaroor. The pet breathed at the enemy first, producing a cloud of poisonous green gas, and then started battering him with its webbed paws, ending with short curved talons. It didn't deal that much damage, but Ros was hoping the pet would assist him with controlling his overly agile opponent. He could by no means afford to let him close enough to place a hit. If that happened, there was a great chance of remaining stunned while his opponent would reduce his HP to zero. Bowlegs preferred this tactic to everything else.
