The Way of the Clan 3 (World of Valdira)

by Dem Mikhaylov

  -- Do you know him? – said Cray and Kaylen in unison, and I became even more convinced that these two knew each other in real life.

  -- I do. I met him in Selenium. Hello, Orbit.

  -- Want to know, why I have this name? – asked the elf, as I withstood the short-term experience of deja-vu.

  -- Still not yet— I smiled forcibly, frantically trying to figure out how an elf— elf! A forest creature who is, by default, heavily disadvantaged by these surroundings, cannot withstand these surroundings and even receives penalties here! – managed to get to the second level of the dungeon and not die. Yes, and how he managed to level up a few… and the strange necklace around his neck.

  -- Where’d you get the ears, Orbit? And what is written on them? – suddenly asked Bom, and I listened in amazement.

  What do you mean where? From the Kobold bodies. Normal loot.

  -- From the Kobolds— Orbit drawled a reply, confirming my thoughts— And then I wrote it myself.

  -- What?! You’re bullshitting, brother! Kobold ears do not “fall”! – the “ass” said indignantly— Never! And neither do Proteus drop their skulls! I know better than anyone what falls in this dungeon and where!

  -- Relax, Bom— I asked— Where else could he have gotten them? Only from Kobolds. Stop! Orbit, who are you?

  -- Elf…

  -- No, what class are you?

  -- A spirit listener— replied the bald elf without a pause, and I blinked in bewilderment.

  Spirit listener? I never heard of such a class. Hold on…

  -- You want to say: you’re a “Spirit Talker,” right? – I corrected.

  -- Uh-huh. That’s another thing we’re called— serenely smiled the elf— But I rarely talk to them. Mostly listening. Just today, I heard a story from a Kobold caster! Just listen, Rosgard, listen! They gathered by their main burrow, twisted a pair of moss cigs, and just began to take a draw when…

  -- Stop! – I interrupted the memory— But…

  -- Burning the moss? – Bom interrupted in turn, looking at the bald elf almost lovingly in the eyes— There’s such a plant, yes? And it’s in the breeding ground, yes?

  -- Yes— nodded Orbit— it’s growing.

  -- First time I’ve heard of it! – said Bom, already shaking— Where can you collect it? Is it used in alchemy? Can you sell it? Expensive?

  -- Stop! – once again, I snapped, stopping the shaking of the greedy hamster Bom— To hell with the moss!

  -- What do you mean! – Bom did not agree— It’s money! If you smoke it, you can sell it! Once you sell it— well, you could use it for alchemy! That means, you can earn a hell of a lot.

  Who knew, the professional “ass” was only worried about money.

  -- Then later! – to argue with the hamster was useless, and I handed him back some of the reins so as not to aggravate the situation— Orbit! You’re an elf! How can you be “spirit talker” if that’s only in the Orc class? Or has something changed?

  -- Here they come— drawled Orbit, slightly tilting his head to one side, as if listening to something. With his “fork” of outstretched fingers the elf pointed to one of the ears strung on twine and the tiny skull of Proteus— He gives a suggestion, now and then. And now he’s agreeing.

  -- Gives suggestion? An ear? The skull agrees?! … Hey, man, how are you feeling? All is well, does anything hurt? … Oh! It’s true! – called Cray, exposing his shield— Patrol! Four snouts!

  -- Close the ranks— I ordered, quickly taking up my position in the group— Orbit! Hide yourself behind our backs!

  -- You know— thoughtfully said the girl, guiding her hand in the direction of the opponent— It’s so interesting with you!

  -- Ye-ea-ah— agreed Orbit, who had come behind me— With Rosgard it’s always interesting. Already they’re here. Spirits say there’s one in red who comes murmuring. And he taketh with him a jumper at his heels— he promised her tasty meat.

  -- One charmer! – I translated this rubbish into actual language— And a jumper… I have not read about that one in the brochure.

  -- You have!— Bom said— But their name is different and they look different. It’s catered to nature! In short— a small demon, most likely water.

  -- Afraid of fire— I concluded, standing next to Kaylen— Ready? Aa-a-and, now!

  A short whistling and two Stickers raced into the darkness. They almost merged in their flash, and hit two grotesque hunched silhouettes of Kobold warriors. Bright glowing coals flew from Kaylen’s hands. I pulled two gray lumps out of my pockets and, clutching them in my fists, hurled forward.

  Just two Kobold warriors forging ahead— this was nonsense. Behind them were two cave monsters, with the summoned demon. I feared them the most. Here is a real surprise of the Breeding Grounds— the species of small demons is innumerable.

  That was a truth: their name— legion.

  Small. Not particularly dangerous demons. A trifle— but each of these has a unique ability, which is as likely to be innocuous as it is deadly. And we don’t have a demonologist among us, so we could weaken the creature or kick it back to where it came from. We would have to kill the demon.

  There!

  One of the two Stickers flashed low near the floor, almost to water level. Now I see why orbit said “jumper”— something short, hairless, and appearing to consist of only the gnarled head and legs. Not the slightest hint of hands or clawed paws. In the flashes, I noticed bloodshot eyes with a furiously twitching pupil.

  -- A jumper, a jumper— said Orbit, looking slightly out from behind me, the soft touch of his fingers touching the eerie necklace like a rosary— Wants to spit. Mad at you…

  -- Yeah? For a Sticker between the eyes, or what? That was a gift— I muttered, making a few soft movements with my left hand— And now she’ll be even more offended! I’m going to give her a bouquet of flowers! Thorny!

  Among the Kobolds sprung several thorny bushes, and the toad was covered entirely and jerked wildly in the thicket.

  -- Worse for you, fool— I muttered, continuing to cast “thorn hedge”— Here’s another bouquet for you for keeps. You can take them with you when you leave.

  The magic got to all enemies immediately and sparks of fire flashed in the air, hissing and hitting the bodies of Kobolds. Stone spikes dug into the supple bodies. Warriors frantically worked their arms, getting through the first line of freaks.

  Before my eyes was a seemingly endless flow of experience— the Proteus died in bucket loads, not able to withstand the few minutes of this locally organized hell. A minute later, it was all over— a Kobold uttered its last wait and collapsed into the water, the toad uttered a nasty hissing sound and swelled like a balloon and broke, splattering the walls with gray slush. According to the bubbles rising in the water and the cracking stone, the slime had corrosive properties. What a sweet creature…

  -- They said, there’s no one near now— solemnly declared Orbit, slowly letting go of the necklace— Only fish in the water… swimming, playing…

  -- Thank you— I nodded thoughtfully, looking around at the colorful variety of players.

  An elf of the class “Spirit Talkers”. A class related to shamanistic magic, if my memory serves me. One of the most confusing and difficult classes in the game. This is not one in which to level up you need to wave a sword or stab a knife. There are strange rituals necessary, and a set of strange abilities.

  Well, everything was natural, I suppose: a strange class for a strange character.

  While Bom was excavating and shoveling his findings into the bag there was a slight pause, during which everyone did not hesitate to peer at the bald-headed elf, at which he was not in the least bit embarrassed.

  - Your job is performed?

  -- I collected eight purple coats— Orbit calmly informed me— I told them— give us the coats, please. And they – no, we ourselves need them, we won’t give them, brother…

  -- I see— I chuckled— So, you didn’t complete it then. And
how did you come to an agreement? Will you show is?

  -- Show? Y-yes… on whom?

  -- There— I pointed to a Proteus, which was slightly larger than is normal— On that.

  Looking at the Proteus, Orbit ran his slender fingers on the rope stung with bones and skulls, and silently whispered, tapping his finger on one of the skulls.

  Circles formed in the water and the Proteus suddenly shuddered and jerked violently, whipping muddy foam and trying to escape the faint haze which shrouded it. The life of the aquatic creature suddenly and sharply began to decrease until it completely disappeared. At last the Proteus shuddered and died, leaving behind a tiny handful of trophies.

  -- Hm-m-m…- I drawled— So that’s how you come to an agreement…

  Being of a combat class is simply amazing… and unpleasant. I wonder how many spirits Orbit can control at once.

  -- I ask my friends— nodded the bald elf— I have a lot of friends… Am I with you?

  Looking around at the party members, I shrugged my shoulders and nodded:

  -- Come on. No such thing as excess help. Party.

  -- Party— Orbit responded, taking my offer.

  -- You go behind us— said I, pointing to his new position— Strike whomever we’re fighting. I’ll explain the rest along the way— or we’ll never make it far enough away from the entrance. Bom! Lend us some purple cloaks, just for myself and Orbit. They’re not for sale— and we need to give them to the head of the village.

  -- Alright. But they count towards the loot, right?— busily said Bom, running his hand into the bag and pulling out the cloaks— On account of your shares?

  -- Right— I said— Yes, at the expense of our share. Alright, let’s move! Doc, what are you waiting for?

  -- I raised my level— Doc smiled happily— Distributed some points. Mana was added! That’s it, I am ready! We’ll show them!

  There Doc was right— we did show them.

  Not that we showed them each their place in life, but that we significantly thinned their ranks with the help of fire, swords, axes and… ghosts.

  And at the same time I slightly wounded my own psyche, significantly reducing its stability.

  Because such a wild sight would not be good for anyone, and because I felt myself the secondary character in a horror movie. Why secondary? Because the secondary character does not get to walk away at the end of the film.

  Imagine— dark and tight winding corridors, the sound of dripping water and in the midst of it all, a Kobold shaking as if in an epileptic fit with wild, bulging eyes, both hands hugging its neck and apparently trying to pull away a pair of strong, invisible hands. Strong fingers squeezing out the life drop my drop. Intangible finger of a barely noticeable ghost, whose shadow could be seen quivering behind the victim.

  The Kobold falls to his knees, leans on his back, kicks his legs and finally calms— to everyone’s relief. And as always, a serenely smiling bald elf behind us strokes his necklace. That is how Orbit kills. With “friends”… may they…

  Hm, as soon as I get out of this dungeon, I will make sure I learn everything about the “Spirit Talker” class. It seems that most who succeed in this occupation are paladins, priests, and other characters who possess divine and magical auras. The spirits do not like hypocrites.

  And on top of all that, there is the lurking figure of Grim, also pressing on the nerves.

  What a hell of a fear that is!

  Be that as it may, we had successfully passed through the second level, occasionally engaging in short, fierce battles, and always leaving as the winners. All the other players had leveled up at least once… all the players except me. I had not even grown half a level. But the Tyrant pleased me— he had grown up one more level, gaining all around. The little wolf was growing to my joy, and his character was diluting the total darkness of the environment.

  I didn’t level up, but in my backpack lay twenty-six purple robes, torn, warming my soul with their presence. Orbit had finished thirty cloaks and the job, we could say, was already performed. A little more and we would take advantage of the port crystal, and soon be back out of the raw dungeon and under the starry night sky of Valdira.

  -- The bag is almost full— alerted Bom with a discontented grumbling, when we had stopped briefly after another fierce battle, allowing the “donkey” to collect the loot.

  -- So rejoice— shrugged Cray.

  -- How could I be happy? More does not fit! – said Bom— Another fight, and your bags will be full too.

  -- No problem— nodded the gnome— We’ve still got some room. Kaylen, are you okay?

  -- Uh-huh— she laughed— A little more until the next level. And then the fire and the wine of victory. Right, Ros?

  -- Yeah— I mumbled, looking at the map— We’ve stopped pretty well— a dead end. So! I declare a halt! Let’s see then…

  Rummaging around in my bag, I pulled out a thick light “pillar” and, lifting it over my head, struck one end into the floor. The “pillar” instantly stuck, finely trembled and flared, highlighting the space surrounding us to the finest detail. It immediately became more comfortable, despite the dampness and water and the serpentine bodies of Proteus.

  Glancing at my mates and making sure that everything was in place and no one was missing, I voiced my thoughts:

  -- We are not far from the descent into the third level. Will we go down, comrades? Or will we stay here a bit longer and then proudly make our way out? Personally, I’m for the last option. Good things should come in small portions.

  -- I thought we were going down! – protested Cray, whose eyes were burning with the fanatical light of an adventurer— I wasn’t ever there before!

  -- And there are trophies down there, we have to fill our bags either way— Bom asserted, anxiously glancing at me – The bags are not yet complete, Ros.

  -- Insatiable hamster soul— I snorted, wearily leaning against the wet wall— And by the way— we weren’t going to go down to the third level of the dungeon. Besides, I wasn’t expecting that we would end up with so few players.

  -- On the first level there had been plenty of players, in the second I had seen all of four groups, and at the descent into the third— only one. I’m afraid to think how many others are actually down there- just two and a handful?

  -- And so, what’s the difference to us? – Doc was surprised, and sat cross-legged straight down into the water, right among the Proteus and lush algae— Fewer people— more space to breathe and therefore, more gain. All monsters will be ours! As a doctor I prescribe you five multiple injections of opytonin! And if you put under your tongue a few granules of pure goldenia, and have it absorb well enough into your organism…

  -- You too are intere-esting— shyly smiled Orbit, looking in a completely different way at the doctor.

  -- Goldenia? Uh-huh, right— darkly said Cray, thoughtfully scratching his chin— There will be many larger Kobolds at the bottom, and we will have to do more work. So they will write you a prescription themselves, and solely medication distributes by means of injections in the ass. He’s telling you— there are almost no players on the third level.

  -- Yes, yes, but what’s the difference? – continued Doc, not wanting to understand.

  I had to intervene:

  -- No players— no killing mobs. You get it, Doc? When we were hanging out at the first floor— we had to look for monsters, and we did not always find them. In the second level, there were more mobs— a more complex floor, with less players. On the third level are very few players. Mobs respawn too fast and you can’t kill them. The whole crowd is there waiting for us. And we have a frail party, not fit to do a full-squad raid. Understand?

  -- They’ll all pile on top of us— Doc finally understood— Crush us with mass.

  -- That’s right— I nodded and added, generously sharing game knowledge— And all the Kobolds are aggressive, they will not wait for an invitation to attack themselves. We will involve ourselves in an endless series of
fights. We’ll wear out. First, run out of mana, then we’ll start to make mistakes, and then one of us will fly to the revival location and the rest of us will follow. And its fine if such a disaster happened on the first level— it’s easy to return to the corpse. But not at the third level. No, comrades, it is not worth it. It is troublesome.

  -- That’s right— agreed Bom, tenderly embracing his bloated bag— The risk is not worth it. I propose— turn around and stomp back. On foot. To the exit. Along the way, wreak havoc. As for me— that’s the most sensible option. What do you think?

  -- I agree— I nodded instantly – It’s time to return.

  -- I am in favor— purred Kaylen— I want a marshmallow on a stick and a glass of wine for victory.

  -- And me too— echoes Cray behind her— Although who the hell needs marshmallows?

  -- I can go nowhere without you – shrugged Doc.

  -- That’s good— grunted a pleased Bom.

  Orbit was silent, curiously studying a crack in the wall, but shrugged, indicating that he did not care which way to stamp.

  -- We don’t have to go all the way to the exit on foot— I added hastily – Only until we fill the bags— then we can just use our crystals and port there.

  And then it all started.

  -- An interesting plan, if I may say so myself— grumbled Grim, standing against the wall— and his hoarse voice sounded sharply unfamiliar to me— But first we’ll talk… Friend Rosgard.

  -- Here we go— I muttered, feeling in my bag for the “Flash” detonator.

  I no longer took my eyes off Grim and was instantly convinced that this was not the Grim I knew.

  At first glance, it seemed that he hadn’t changed at all. He just lifted his hunched head from the ground, straightened his shoulders and his back, and slightly moved his hands apart and tensed his muscles. But the changes were truly striking— in front of me was a completely new and different person. Tense, pouring with wild power and confidence.

  -- And you do not fuss, do not twitch— Grim advised, looking at me with eyes that flashed red lights again. This time, much more vivid and ominous.

  -- Yes, I’m not fussing— I smiled, my face paling, glancing at my companions— Want to talk? We’ll talk. But they have nothing to do with it, right, Grim?