by Pavel Kornev
A Drow archer brandished his bow victoriously as he issued a long piercing whistle. A few passersby applauded his skill.
A crimson haze filled my eyes.
Firstly, it hurt. Dammit! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced pain in the game. Secondly, it had been my pet! Ugly and dead, but mine nevertheless!
The pain just wouldn’t subside. A system message appeared at the very edge of my vision, informing me of the attack. The city guards had ignored the shooting entirely. Their protection didn’t extend to covering the dead.
Bunch of lowlifes.
A wave of fury surged over me. Still, what remained of my common sense made me pause before launching an all-out attack. Unfortunately for him, the Drow was only level 28. And he was alone.
“Hold this for a moment, Neo,” I handed him the black orcish longsword and stealthed up.
“John!” Isabella shrieked. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I didn’t even listen. The Drow had already slung his longbow behind his back and sashayed toward the rentals wharf, apparently unable to even conceive that someone might try to attack him in full view of the city guards and other players.
So he’d downed a bird, big deal.
The archer appeared slim and lanky. He definitely had good agility numbers. But as for his constitution, he’d most certainly given it a miss. I had every chance of winning in a couple of powerful blows — but had I missed, it could turn into a painful and protracted fight.
Unwilling to drag it out, I attacked him with a well-practiced combo. Downward, from left to right, then sideways!
Scythe of Death combo!
The undulating blade of my flamberge hacked into his right shoulder, slicing through his fine chainmail. It went right through his ribcage with a surprising ease, then exited his left flank, sparking on the cobblestones. The momentum swung me round; I managed to keep my balance at the right moment without being dumped on my backside.
I raised my sword again but stopped in full swing. There was no need for another attack.
Player Lucas III is killed!
Experience: +1496 [25 674/28 300]; +1496 [25 718/28 300]
Undead, the level is raised! Rogue, the level is increased!
My single blow had cleft him in two, leaving me standing over his dead body at the center of the busy square covered in blood from head to toe. My own blood was boiling with adrenaline.
And not just mine. The crowd around me bristled with cold steel. Still, seeing as the PK mark never appeared over my head, gradually the players began to calm down.
“Have you got a vendetta going on, you two?” a bearded sorcerer asked me as he reluctantly deactivated a combat spell already flickering between his fingertips.
“Yeah, sort of,” I mumbled, stepping back from the pool of blood spreading over the cobblestones. Then I swung round and hurried toward the bridge. The other players gave me a wide berth. Now they knew better than to stop me, especially because the city guards had completely ignored the murder.
“Are you freakin’ mad?” Isabella hissed.
I shrugged. My headache had finally subsided; the flashing system message in the corner of my eye had now disappeared.
“Listen, Roger,” Isabella addressed the skull topping her staff, “don’t you think our Kitten is completely off his trolley?”
“Give it a break,” I said, retrieving the black sword from Neo. “He killed my pet bird. I just repaid him in kind.”
She cussed and dragged me into some dark side alley. “Wait for me here,” she said. “If you so much as move, I’ll lop your legs off!”
I wanted to tell her where to stuff it but reconsidered just in time. It was pointless trying to aggravate the situation. Instead, I began wiping the Drow blood off my mask and gloves. There was no way I could get it off my white robes.
”Poor bird,” Neo sighed. “He was so funny...”
I shrugged. I hadn’t felt attached to the undead phoenix in the slightest. The only thing he ever did was squawk. He’d only been good at making noise. Completely uncontrollable. And this way, I’d avenged him and had even managed to level up a bit in the process. I was dying to find out what new kind of undead went after a Night Hunter.
Still, I didn’t have the time to check my stats before Isabella arrived.
“Get changed,” she ordered, hurling a shapeless gray cloak at me.
The boy got an identical one in a smaller size. Still, I was reluctant to discard my white robes. I threw them into my inventory and donned the cloak. “Where to now?”
“To hell,” she snapped.
“You seem to be a bit jumpy today,” I said. “Is it because your negotiations about the fragment of the Sphere of Souls didn’t go through, or what is it?”
“It’s got nothing to do with that! Whatever possessed you to pick a fight in full view of everyone? And what if the Drow had dodged your first blow? You’d be still dancing with him now!”
“I’d love to have seen him dodge it,” I smirked as we walked out into the street. “I stabbed him in the back, didn’t I? Plus I was stealthed.”
“Don’t speak too soon! There’re amulets for that! And plenty of various Agility skills you don’t even know about. Oh dammit! I’d completely forgotten who I was talking to!”
She strode along the street. I hurried after her. “So what about the Sphere?”
“We’ve reached a preliminary agreement but I decided not to meet the customer without you,” she replied, then hurried to add before I could ask her any more questions, “No! Your story first!”
I heaved a doomed sigh.
2
THE INN WHERE Isabella had taken us was located on the third or fourth island from the port. There was no direct route there. Better-off players would go by boat while all the others had to amble down damp lanes too narrow for two carriages to pass each other. And whenever I’d managed to find a shortcut through winding side alleys, I had to elbow my way through the crowd of like-minded players.
We crossed a bridge, then another and yet another, before we finally could take a ferry across a wide canal. When at last we turned back to the embankment, I attempted to protest,
“Wait up! Why are you going around in circles? Couldn’t we take a more direct road?”
She stopped and shook her head. “This is Hellspawn Island, private property of the clan.”
“Oh really?” I whistled, looking up at a tower dominating the houses, its peaked roof topped with the statue of a dark angel. “The whole island? They must be rolling in it!”
“Shut up and move it!”
THE OLD ARCHER INN occupied the corner building of a busy intersection. We took the back door and climbed the stairs to the third floor. The room wasn’t too spacious but it was a double. In the real world, it would have slept at least five people. But here, it was only the means of getting a permanent resurrection point. That worked out cheaper and more convenient than constantly reentering the game next to one of the Towers of Power.
Do you want to make this rented accommodation your new login location?
I’d have loved to, but unfortunately, that option was still blocked for me.
“Neo, go get some shut-eye,” Isabella motioned the boy toward the other room. When he was gone, she swung round glaring at me. “What’s wrong with you, Kitten?”
I deactivated Incognito, removed my mask and flashed her a toothy smile. “Why, what’s wrong with me?”
“Oh,” she drawled. “My Kitten has turned into a scruffy junk yard cat! My Kitten is a tough nut now!”
“Your Kitten,” I cringed as I uttered the word, “just wants to get to the Kingdom of the Dead. So what about the Sphere?”
She slumped onto the bed and crossed one leg over the other, making sure one of her shapely thighs was in full view. “Tell me what happened to you two. I want to know everything.”
‘What’s the point? It’s a waste of time.”
“Go on!”
With a shrug, I drew both my swords from behind my back and set them in the corner. I perched myself on the windowsill and looked out into the street. It was already getting dark. The flood of players heading for the port had eased up. They unhurriedly strolled around, gawking at shop signs and checking out various entertainment establishments.
Still, I knew better than to test my Elven friend’s patience. I gave her a quick run-down of all my adventures, starting with the necromancer’s attack and the defense of Stone Harbor and ending with our restoration of the Temple of the Silver Phoenix.
“So you do have a vendetta,” Isabella said pensively as she listened to my story. “That could become a problem.”
“That’s nothing,” I waved her concerns away. “He’ll never find me now. I’ve disabled map tracking.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be so sure, Kitten. There’re plenty of other ways of tracking an enemy.”
“Like what?” I asked rather nonchalantly.
She was already standing up. “Don’t leave the room. I’m gonna arrange a meeting and come back for you.”
“A meeting with whom?” I asked.
The slamming of the closing door was her only reply.
I didn’t give a damn. With a shrug, I opened my stats. I really should use this time to distribute the available points. This may be just a game but admittedly I couldn’t wait to find out what kind of undead I’d turn into this time.
Unhesitantly I increased both Strength and Perception. But when I was about to invest a skill point into Stealth, I froze open-mouthed.
I didn’t just have one point available. Not two, even. I had a whopping twenty-six points!
What was going on?
Could it have been some kind of error? I decided to check it by increasing Stealth to 15 pt. And just as I was trying to add another one, a new system message flashed up,
Further skill increase will be available after additional training!
Still in disbelief, I increased Dodge to 15. Ignoring a new message, I opened my character profile.
John Doe, Executioner, Hangman
Undead. Junior Lich. Level: 25./ Human, Rogue. Level: 25
Experience: [25 674/28 300]; [25 718/28 300]
Strength: 28.
Agility: 27.
Constitution: 24.
Intelligence: 5.
Perception: 14.
Life: 1200.
Endurance: 1300.
Internal energy: 475.
Damage: 216—324.
Covert movement: +15.
Dodge: +15.
Critical damage when attacking in stealth mode, backstabbing or attacking a paralyzed target.
Professional skills: “Incognito” (3), “Execution”, “Hangman”.
Fencer: two-handed weapons (3), weapons in one hand, “Sweeping Strike”, “Powerful blow”, “Power lunge”, “Sudden blow”, “Accurate Blow”, “Crippling Blow”, “Blind Strike”, “Rapid Strike”.
Creature of the Dark: night sight, penalty for being in sunlight, Lord of the Dead, Almost Alive, Skin of Stone +5.
Neutrality: the undead; subjects of the Lord of the Tower of Decay
Enemies: Order of the Fiery Hand, the Swords of Chaos clan.
Immunity: death magic, poisons, curses, bleeding, sickness, cures and blessings.
Achievements: “Dog Slayer” Grade 3, “Tenacious”, “Man of Habit”, “Defender of Stone Harbor” Grade 1.
Wait a sec. A Junior Lich?
But a Lich was a dead sorcerer, wasn’t it? How could I possibly be a sorcerer with my meager 5 pts. Intellect? And where were my old skills, dammit? Where was my Sprint? And what had happened to my Claws of Darkness?
Suddenly I knew where all the extra skill points had come from. They had been deducted from all the deleted skills.
Bastards! Give them back!
So this latest upgrade of my undead status had only served to bring more disappointment. But what if I was wrong and things weren’t as bad as they looked?
I opened my Magic tab. Pointless. I didn’t managed to activate a single spell from the sorcerer’s book.
Level-1 spells available to study: 0
Dammit! My penalty to Intellect had left me without any hope of ever using magic. What was the point in making me a Lich, then?
I walked over to a mirror on the wall and stared at my reflection.
Deathly pallid skin clung tightly to my skull. My sunken eyes reflected crimson Infernal flames. Nothing else. The fancy black lines covering my face were now gone, replaced by magic runes and formulas. Admittedly I looked better for it. But as for the rest, it had been a change for the worse.
My teeth were as sharp as before. My nails still resembled claws. But as for my bite, it no longer could syphon my victims’ Life and Stamina. Also, I’d lost the ability of stunning an opponent with a single blow. My Night Hunter Sprint was also gone. And what had I gotten in return? A magic which I couldn’t even use? Shit!
I perched myself on the windowsill and stared mindlessly out the window. The evening street was bustling with revelers. Many of the players weren’t even wearing armor or weapons. They’d come to the world of the Towers of Power intending to have a good time and be merry.
As for me, merry wasn’t on the agenda. If the truth were known, I was deep in it.
Having said that, as I continued to level up, theoretically I could level up Intellect to the 10 required pts. I gave it some thought and decided it wasn’t a good idea. Magic was all well and good but how was I supposed to know what I’d become at level 60? Did I really want to waste five points only to lose the ability to use magic later? I didn’t need that.
In all honesty, my lich didn’t stand a chance against real wizards while my level-1 spells were poor protection against a top warrior. The sheer thought was ridiculous.
What a predicament.
I heaved a doomed sigh. I really should stop worrying prematurely. After all, if Isabella managed to secure our participation in the raid on the Kingdom of the Dead, all my leveling mistakes would become irrelevant. And I knew she could do it. You could tell just by looking at her she was one pushy lady.
I stopped torturing myself with bouts of regret and concentrated on my professional skills. The memory of how long it had taken me to smoke the immobilized Nest Hunter still smarted. So I increased Execution, bringing my chances of killing a character whose level was equal to mine with one blow to 12%.
But that wasn’t all.
Execution II
Your firm hand and sharp eye allow you to strike where your enemy is the most vulnerable!
+4% to your chances of dealing a critical hit
+2% to your chances of dealing a crippling blow
Not bad. Not bad at all. But no more than that.
I breathed a sigh and began studying the Lich’s abilities. The Skin of Stone was nothing surprising: all it offered was some additional protection. That wasn’t so bad for a newb but didn’t sound too serious for a level-50 player. Still, it was better than nothing. It wouldn’t make things worse, that’s for sure.
The Lord of the Dead was also a rather predictable skill which allowed you to control the undead. That sounded quite interesting, the sole problem was that the combined level of the controlled creatures couldn’t exceed half of that of the Lich.
However, the last of my new skills — “Almost Alive” — made me scratch my head as I read its description:
“Almost Alive”
You haven’t been dead for very long so you haven’t yet forgotten what it feels like to be alive. You can fool even the most attentive observer, but remember: the moment the sun rises, its light will render your camouflage useless.
Very interesting. So what did that actually mean? That I didn’t need Incognito anymore?
I stood in front of the mirror and activated my new skill.
Immediately my face rounded. I got a bit of color back in my cheeks. My eyes lost their dark fiery glare. That was the extent of it, tho
ugh, if you didn’t count my waning internal energy. Anyone who wished to double-check me could still access my profile which still classified me as Undead. But not if I used it in combination with Incognito...
The sight of a mask on their companion’s face normally makes people nervous. But this new skill allowed me to look perfectly alive without having to use such blatant disguise.
“Neo?” I called, turning to him. “What do you think?”
The boy yawned sleepily. “You’ve changed again, Uncle John!” he announced.
I laughed. “You’re dead right there!”
“You’ve changed but you’re still the same!”
“What makes you think so?”
“I just feel it.”
I frowned. “What is it you can feel?”
The kid faltered in hesitation. “I feel you should be burned at the stake. Sorry, Uncle John.”
I snorted, unable to contain my laughter. “That’s nice of you!”
I hadn’t expected what happened next. Creaking, the wardrobe door opened a crack. I could see darkness swirl amid its empty hangers, blacker and thicker than in the deepest of cellars.
My hand lay on the hilt of my Soul Killer hook. Still, I didn’t have to use it. The darkness parted, releasing a bird’s scruffy head. My undead phoenix focused his unseeing white gaze on me.
Then he opened his beak. “Craah!”
I cussed in relief. “What a scarecrow!”
The dead phoenix sprang out of the wardrobe and alighted on the cupboard, his powerful talons leaving deep scratches in the polished wood.
“The birdie’s back!” Neo exclaimed in excitement.
“That’s not a bird. His name is Scarecrow.”
The Black Phoenix opened his beak again, preparing to emit another ear-rending squawk. I was getting a bit fed up with it. I threw a protesting hand in the air — and he froze in place.
“Lord of the Dead!”
I still hadn’t sensed any mental connection with my pet. Still, my new skill had somehow kicked in. Being an undead, Scarecrow had fallen under my full control.
