By the time we reached the workshop, neither one of us was saying anything. The gnome’s last phrase had piqued my curiosity to such a degree that I decided not to tempt fate by irritating the inventor with further talk. What if he gets upset and refuses to show me the…
“Ta-da!” Gnum yelled triumphantly, throwing open the workshop’s enormous doors. “Love and cherish her — Gnum’s Valor — a Giant Airborne Squidolphin. Or GAS for short! I came up with it myself!” Gnum added with pride. At his word, the succubi yanked off an enormous white sheet, revealing the airship.
No, not an airship…
An airborne monster!
When I had last seen the ship, she had been concealed by trussing and it had been difficult to assess the magnitude of Gnum’s Valor or Folly or whatever. Now, however, I was staring with shock at an enormous steel octopus, unsure of whether I should be happy or not. The octopus’s body consisted of a three-deck round construction that had ten tentacles attached over it like a steel cupola. Similar tentacles were protruding from the ship’s side, giving her the resemblance of a Squidolphin. And yet the similarity ended there. I should tell Gnum to change his name to Frankenstein!
“Does it fly at least?” I managed, approaching closer.
“Come on now!” Gnum was about to get upset again, but thought better of it and suggested I climb aboard. “Hang on, you’ll see!” The time had come for me to test Barliona’s sensitivity. This wasn’t technically a means of transportation — it was a part of Barliona that had been torn up into the sky. And therefore it shouldn’t be blocked from flying with me on board!
I climbed aboard up a spiral staircase. According to Gnum, all players with access would fly in on griffins or teleport in, while the staircase was for my use exclusively. So that I wouldn’t forget my roots.
Still not understanding what Gnum meant by that, I clambered onto the ship. The diameter of the central circle was so long that I even glanced over at the doors. To my trained eye, we wouldn’t fit.
“Gnum, don’t you think the entrance is too tight?” I asked the gnome who had stuck some odd-looking goggles on his face.
“Entrance?” he furrowed his brow and then broke into a smile. “Who needs an entrance? This baby flies wherever she likes!”
Your castle has been damaged…
Just in case I hadn’t noticed that Gnum had just ripped open a giant hole in the workshop’s ceiling, the system reminded me that any game action is monitored and evaluated accordingly. In this case, by means of finances, since the Imperial Stone that is required to repair buildings, costs an arm and a leg. The walls and roof collapsed inward, crushing various equipment beneath the rubble, but the ship crawled out of this conflagration unharmed — the upraised tentacles worked as conduits for a forcefield that protected the GAS. We rose slowly and through my porthole I managed to spy Viltrius, aghast and stunned, reckoning up the cost of repairs, yet the goblin’s plight soon receded to the back of my mind. I felt triumph — I had managed to fly! Against all odds!
“You’re not allowed to fly, teleport or use flying transports,” explained Gnum. “But the GAS isn’t a flying transport, it’s an ordinary marine vessel that…Ah! Look — we have guests.”
A hundred griffins arose into the air, surrounding us from all sides. Since we were above the castle, the players couldn’t get very close, and arranged themselves around Altameda’s perimeter. A moment later, the first lightning bolt came flying at our GAS, then another and a few moments later we found ourselves in the center of a Tesla Coil that was being set off by hundreds of people at once.
“The hell with the lot of them!” Gnum’s grimace dissolved when he saw the outcome of the attacks. The ship (we, the players inside of it still couldn’t be attacked directly) remained unharmed. The forcefield worked as intended.
“My turn,” Gnum rubbed his hands and pressed something on the virtual control panel. Portholes opened up all around the ship’s perimeter, unveiling a thicket of ballistae. I frowned — instead of ordinary ammunition like arrows or pikes, the ballistae were loaded with ordinary nets. How would that defeat this mass of enemies?
“We can’t hurt the players, right?” the gnome smiled and waiting for my puzzled nod, went on: “There! So we will use the tried and true method. On the count of three! Two! One! Fire!”
The GAS shuddered noticeably. I ran up to the railing and watched entranced as the broadside of nets hurled untroubled through the lightning bolts which only scorched them a little. A few of the players thought of getting out of the trajectory of the cloud flying from our ship, darting aside, but the nets were flying too quickly. And there were way too many of the players around us anyway. Hovering in place and pouring lightning on a motionless target is one thing. Dodging a bunch of flying nets is something else entirely.
We didn’t damage the players. That was forbidden. But like the GAS, the griffins were game objects that could be interacted with. The nets tangled up the mounts’ wings causing them to plummet to the ground. And since Barliona has a relatively realistic physics engine, an uncontrolled fall to the ground from a hundred meters up…Again, a few of the players thought of casting bubbles and save themselves from respawning, but the majority of those who had surrounded the GAS were sent to take a break out in reality owing to a fatal lack of wits. Well, who asked them to attack me anyway?
“Again?” Gnum yelled into a device that looked like a loudhailer. The dozen of griffins that had managed to avoid the nets and remained circling around our ship put some distance between us and them.
“Bring her down,” I decided, reading the notifications. Several clans were complaining that I had destroyed their players and equipment. Did they really think that I was about to compensate them? “Gnum, I need a manual for how to fly this ship.”
“Here,” the gnome handed me a pair of odd goggles similar to the ones he was already wearing. “There’s no manual, but you’ll figure it out. Ah! Look — the tournament’s getting started over there!”
“Oh goddamn!” I blurted out when I realized the scale of the tragedy. Until this moment, I felt fairly ambivalently about the tournament, shelling out the dough and trying to stay out of the event’s overall organization. Now that the tournament had begun, however, I was shocked at its scale. A sea of people had taken up residence outside of Altameda. The tent city alone with its sharp points receded far into the horizon. Several auxiliary buildings had been erected near the castle, among which I could only identify the arena and the multi-colored merchants’ tents mixed with small squares — and all of it roiled with people.
“The obstacle course,” Gnum indicated one of the facilities filled with players. “That’s where the opening ceremony will be held today.”
I looked in the indicated direction and started back from the railing — Gnum hadn’t finished his sentence when a myriad of fireworks erupted in the sky. Large, small, variously colored and shaped — the beauty of the event managed to overwhelm even the sun peeking from the clouds.
“Wanna make bets on who’ll win the tournament?” Gnum offered when the ship began to slowly descend. “I’d guess the Celestial. Our boys have arms growing out of all the wrong places. Plus without Plinto or Anastaria, their chances will be zero.”
“Astrum,” I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “They might be able to compete. Do you have any idea what the reward is?”
“Eh? Everyone knows that — whoever wins gets the Tomb of the Creator.”
“Erm…”
“Ugh. I meant the ‘Original’ status — not the Tomb. As in, all the loot they find in it will be really sweet or something. Mahan, are you all right? Mahan, you’re…”
The cocoon lid slid aside releasing me. Without thinking long, I pushed the external exit button on Stacey’s capsule and, while the system got her ready for exit, dialed the Corporation on the phone.
“Put me in touch with the innovations department!”
The next half hour was full of unpleasant di
scoveries. The top prize in the tournament had been kept in complete secret. No one knew about it up until the last moment. It had been Stacey’s dad’s idea to offer the ‘Original’ status as a prize. He personally lobbied the Corporation on this issue, arguing that this was even “necessary in order to limit the influence that one player has on inter-clan relations.” As James explained, the Corporation immediately agreed with this perspective — everything that pertains to a single player can easily remain his: Altameda, the Chess Set, his unique race — these are all toys for a single player. But as soon as the interests of a clan comes up, there should be some mechanism for doubling certain features, otherwise the player with the bonus can begin to extort other clans. By way of example, Ehkiller brought up my sale of the Tears of Harrashess and the tickets to the Dark Forest as vivid examples of virtual extortion. As a result, one of the tournament rewards was set as the ‘Original’ status for the Tomb of the Creator. You can’t leave such a lever over others in the hands of just one player. However, James tried to cheer us up too, explaining that I could still win the tournament and thereby retain the status. Or rather, I would retain it in any case, but this way I would prevent anyone else from getting it. That would be entirely within the spirit of the game…
We ended up having to catch Ehkiller in the game — the tournament’s opening ceremony was at its peak and he played one of its main roles. Sponsor, organizer, participant — Killer reveled in the general attention to his person, and we were forced to wait for him for a very long time. At last, Ehkiller deigned to answer us.
“I don’t understand what you’re so upset about. In the game, everything has to follow the game rules. This decision has been completely approved by the Corporation’s ethics committee, so we have no other choice but to accept it and move forward. Prove that you’re the only one worthy of this status! Mahan, it’s in your hands — Shadows are officially allowed to participate.”
“That’s my Tomb!” I yelled enraged.
“This isn’t some toy that you can have all to yourself,” Ehkiller cut me off tersely. “Mahan, you’re starting to repeat yourself, so I’m going to go. Again — the decision was made with the Corporation’s approval and all we have to do is abide by it. Signing off!”
“Stacey, this is a set up!” I looked at the girl with shock. “They stole the Tomb!”
“It’s not as simple as it seems. I’m sure,” judging by her tone, Stacey was trying to persuade herself more than me. “Dad would’ve never done this if there was even one way to resist. It’s not as simple as…”
“Stacey, I really couldn’t give a fig for what your dad decided with the Corporation,” I told her in a cold voice. Everything inside of me was in an uproar, but it would’ve been dumb to go off on the girl. It wasn’t her fault that her father turned out to be a complete bastard. “I won’t let them seal that Dungeon. The Tomb will be completed and it’ll be completed by my clan. And that’s that.”
“Dan…” Stacey sighed deeply, shaking her head. “We don’t have the resources to interfere with them. They’ll lock us in a respawn point and won’t let us out until the winner completes the Dungeon. By the time that the Guardians get involved, they will have already…It’s hopeless. We could’ve given it a shot if you still had your Blink ability, but in the current situation, the probability that we can even get to the Tomb is incredibly small.”
“Small doesn’t mean non-existent.” An epiphany suddenly engulfed me. A fairly rare occurrence lately, but just the thing I needed right now when all visible paths to a solution had been cut off. Not a question — we’ll look for another way. Like real heroes.
Handing Stacey the GAS, which would now play a not insignificant role in my plan, I didn’t bother revealing my hand to my wife. First, I’d need to weigh everything and consider it carefully. The stunned Siren ran off to Gnum’s workshop to see this wonder of Barliona technology with her own eyes, while yet another mind-numbing idea formed in my head. I’m actually afraid to imagine what the third one will be!
“Hey Plinto!” I got an amulet and began to bring my genius to life. “I need a partner for the 2 vs. 2 arena. We’re going to…”
“Mahan, where the hell are you?!” as soon as Plinto understood who was calling, a wild yell burst from the amulet. “We have a Labyrinth scheduled in ten minutes! Get your butt over to the tilt-yard this instant! Call yourself a raid leader…Move it! We’ll get disqualified!”
“Viltrius, I need a map of the tournament!” I yelled, dashing headlong out of Altameda. In my rush, I forgot that the amulet was still activated in my hand, and so for a little while I was cheered on by Plinto’s motivational words about me, Stacey, the game and the entire world as a whole. Some of the expressions were so amusing that I couldn’t help but laugh. It’s a good thing that the Rogue couldn’t see me — as that would’ve only added fuel to the fire. I suppose it’s time to get used to playing with a standard character — I had gotten so used to blinking everywhere lately that I hardly paid attention to the time it took to travel anymore.
What really amused me as I ran from the castle to the tiltyard were the Malabarian and Kartossian players trying to get in my way and hinder me in various ways. At first I tried to run around them, but when I couldn’t shift my weight and passed right through a groups of orcs from some clan I’d never heard of, I stopped caring and ran straight. PvP was disabled and anyone who wanted to pick up the loot from my body could take a rest. Come back and try again tomorrow, kids!
“Where?” I yelled from afar, seeing Anscenica. The Shadow players were standing in a heap to the side of the tilt-yard entrance, protected by two chains of security. Considering that the guards had their backs to them, the security was for my warriors, protecting them from their hostile surroundings. At first I thought this surprising, since players couldn’t be hurt, and yet the vegetables and stones littering the ground in the vicinity suggested that the local NPCs were still playing their traditional roles. The roles of those who loathed everything about Shadow. Anscenica waved her hand in the direction of an enormous, colorful tent positioned close to the entrance, so I adjusted my course and literally came flying into the tent, slamming against an enormous guard.
“The Shadow raid is present and accounted for,” sounded Plinto’s voice as I tried to untangle myself from the armor of an enormous orc guard. All I had to do was curse the developers for turning the Kartoss guards into metal monsters. How did the designers decide that warriors decked out in spikes would be comfortable fighting? Or even just stand next to others? Let’s assume that the Barliona physics engine lets the spikes of two adjacent guards clip through each other — okay, but I’m no NPC! I am strictly bound by my physical interactions with the world around me, in which the guards’ spikes are like thorns that catch everything that’s not well placed, at standstill or running.
Plinto handed a piece of paper to an important-looking, gaunt NPC in a dressy waistcoat from the time of Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci. This official even had a large hat with a long voluminous feather that brushed up against the tent’s ceiling, completing his image. The image of a creature that hated the entire world. With unconcealed revulsion, the official accepted the document with two fingertips and instantly dropped it onto a massive desk cluttered with similar papers.
“Shadow,” he seethed through his teeth. “Registration confirmed. The Labyrinth will begin in three minutes…May you perish in it!”
“We need to register for the arena too!” I managed to yell, untangling myself from the orc. Rushing over to the stand with the blank forms, I found the one for the arena, paid the entry fee, entered my name and Plinto’s and handed it to the official, who grimaced even further.
“Arena registration is closed!” he began, but there was no stopping me. I didn’t need the hate of this shrimp, whom the Corporation would erase from the game’s memory after the tournament. I needed the hate of the players! And only serious, hardcore hate.
“Is that an official rej
ection?” I hiked an eyebrow expressively.
“The second participant hasn’t yet confirmed his participation, so you can’t file a registration…”
“All right, I confirm it,” Plinto looked at me attentively. “Mahan, the hell do you need the arena for? We don’t have any tactics worked out and we’ve never even fought together. A Shaman and a Rogue are by default mincemeat for, say, a Paladin and a Death Knight, so…”
“Registered! Duo number 1,032,669,” the official even smiled when he heard Plinto’s words. An entrance fee was withdrawn from my account, forcing me to whistle — a thousand gold! Considering the number of participants, the Corporation had just made a cool billion out of thin air. I want to make money like that too!
“Come on,” Plinto literally pulled me toward the exit. “The Labyrinth starts in a minute. We need to get ready.”
Chapter Twelve. The Arena
“All right, surprise me. What the hell do you need the arena for?” Plinto tore himself away from a mug of a stat-restoring liquid and leaned back in his armchair. The tavern that had been erected near the tilt-yard was full of people despite the fact that it actually consisted of several hundred virtual instances of its main hall to accommodate the insane number of guests.
We went through the Labyrinth like hot knives through butter. The designers hadn’t bothered to come up with anything fancy for the qualifying stage of this competition, limiting themselves to two bosses with three attacks that we knew ahead of time. It still remained a mystery to me why they called it a Labyrinth even though it was no more than a straight hallway. There were no turns, no dead ends, nor any cozy out-of-the-way corners to take a nap. Two rooms, two bosses and one hour — this was how long each competitor had to complete the qualifying stage. We managed in twenty-three minutes, losing only two players along the way. The bosses here were Level 200, so whenever they cast AoE attacks, the low-level players had to be extra careful. Effectively, Plinto and I did the fighting, helped along by Anscenica and Endiga. The rest of our Shadow party hadn’t yet reached Level 150 and the bosses were off-limits to them. To Plinto’s chagrin, Lori wasn’t there. She was practicing a new song with her band, wishing to rip the other competitors to shreds as early as the qualifying phase of the Battle of the Bards.
Clans War (The Way of the Shaman: Book #7) LitRPG Series Page 27
