The Way of the Clan 6: World of Valdira

by Dem Mikhaylov

  The maximum achievement was that the guardian disappeared for four or five seconds and sped back, shining as bright as ever. Which gave rise to the theory of extreme survivability.

  Many unsavvy players have come across these orbs without knowing what they were and tried to strike them, and immediately been transported to revival. They didn’t even see it coming.

  Its main claim to fame was that even the gods of Valdira would have nothing to do with it. They refused to talk and to attack. Generally, they kept as far away as possible from these lovely soaring stars… which hints at a lot.

  Another thing. When the star strikes it not only kills the player, but also destroys all contents of his bag. Everything turns to dust, be it Mithril armor or a stone helmet— it doesn’t matter.

  And another— they say a star once appeared right in the center of Algora. It came from somewhere below, emerging right from the pavement of main street. The event was a complete disaster. Because the mad guardian of the Ancients began to shoot from all sides, aiming for everything. He destroyed locals and players alike, who found themselves sitting at the revival locations in their shorts only.

  And the star was barely tamed by the demons— he didn’t obey their words nor their magic. The star once killed several demons. In front of the eyes of several players, the immortals turned to ash!

  Everything ended with the fact that the immortals surrounded the star and trapped it in several layers of divine magic, and literally dragged him away. But they didn’t kill it! And couldn’t teleport it! They forced him across the sky as in a pinball game— and the star didn’t want to fly anywhere, violently jerking in the trap and dragging the demons behind him.

  Another logical result of this mess was the compensation. Everyone involved was appeased with a stream of gold and diamonds given out by the handful.

  So the people gave up their attempts to hunt down the star and defeat it. But continued to study it.

  What for?

  Well, what if you could make it a temporary ally? That was just one idea. After all, the guardian would know the location of many ancient artifacts.

  I could spend a long time talking about the stars which hovered in the air. I, too, once dreamed of meeting with one of the Ancient guardians— that is, up until this moment, that we were face to face with him.

  But really, there was not much to fear— the moment was a famous one. This had already happened before.

  At the moment, the star was the guardian of the long abandoned ancient ruins. But at the same time, it was not a guardian bully, there to destroy everyone.

  No. Such a guard appeared only once. After our “conversation” he would depart, and those who will come after us to the Outland will not come across him. But the conditions and terms we set will remain.

  That is exactly what we were coming to now…

  Again the star stopped, blinked in a colored haze, and said in a language we could now understand:

  “Did you come here by accident? Did someone bring you here? Did you come here with intent?”

  “Intent,” calmly replied the Baroness.

  Now, the head of the Sleepless had confirmed that we were not planning to leave. We were going through one way or another.

  Blinking, the guard offered other options:

  “Are you all heroes? Or are only some of you heroes?”

  “Only some of us are heroes,” responded the Baroness just as quickly.

  Right. Now I knew what to expect. Exhaling with relief, I left the crossbow and jumped down. Kira caught me. I was sitting in her arms— a powerful paladin holding the scrawny carcass of a magician.

  “We will not fight,” whispered Trouble.

  “Yes,” I said quietly.

  The Baroness didn’t want to offend anyone with her statement, “only some of us are heroes.” She only made it clear to the guardian that only some of us were ready to fight. It seemed that, in ancient times, only the warriors fought in decisive battles. The Baroness chose this option. And I was pretty sure that personally, I wouldn’t have to fight. And neither would my friends. This business was for the “cool kids.” And we hadn’t yet matured.

  “Three and three,” said the guard. “Two and two. One and one.”

  “Damn…” I said quietly and began to look around, searching for the six most deserving.

  “Three and three,” repeated the Baroness. “Two and two. One and one.”

  There was a flash of green. A flash of yellow. A flash of red.

  The ancient ruins were cut off from us by three translucent, colored walls of energy. The nearest wall— green. Then yellow, within about five meters, and then red.

  And in front of each wall there was someone standing. Someone very formidable.

  I could hardly see those standing in front of the red and yellow walls. I only saw a gloomy and ominous outline.

  But I could see the one standing in front of us, behind the star.

  That which was on the outside was armor. A knight’s gray armor. But it was blank inside. Held together by radiant energy beams, playing the role of muscles and tendons. Something like humanoid golems three meters tall. In the hands of two of them was a straight sword. Both were holding a hammer or an ax.

  They looked like some kind of golems. Or armor that has come to life, of which there are a dozen species in Valdira. Nothing special. But the other one I never saw before…

  Standing in the center was the third warrior, who was also made up of armor. But the armor was very tightly compressed … there was not a single slot between the armor. The visor was firmly fixed. Here and there, he had some kind of gray plaque or scales. On the shoulders he had something like too nozzles, from which a thick whitish steam trickled out with a whistle. Less than three meters high, but not by much. His hands are empty. Gloves hang freely alongside his body.

  What the hell is it?

  The shrill whistle was vaguely familiar— like a boiling kettle on the stove. The quivering air around the massive figure hinted at a high temperature.

  But my ignorance didn’t faze me. No. I was experienced, but I had not managed to visit everywhere. Valdira was big and I’m small, and besides, I hate snowy terrain. I refused even the most attractive jobs because they required me to go to snowy Nadagam. And it was there, in Nadagam, that you could come across and run from such whistling kettle monstrosities.

  From what I caught from the muttering and whispering of the flustered crowd, I could tell there was a reason to be frightened. The result was this— the great and unshakable sleepless had absolutely no idea about the central enemy. Before I could say something, a trio of Architects approached the Sleepless and spread out their hands. The Archs didn’t know the enemy either. I was sure that both clans, in their headquarters, were leaving through several encyclopedias, searching for the information they desired.

  And the Black Baroness continued to look at the star, smiling through gritted teeth.

  The first seconds of delay were understandable— it’s necessary to size up an enemy. What is the enemy’s class? What is his strategy? His skills? Vitality? Vulnerabilities? How fast, it is a science. Not a science— like a mini tournament with very high stakes. Moreover, all three of the men would attack at once.

  At the moment the enemies had no name, no title or level. A complete puzzle… how could we make a decision?

  I had some ideas, but said nothing. And Kira was silent. Orbit… the bald elf was nowhere to be found. Perhaps they had tied him up like an infectious sausage and hidden him away. Rightly so. The elf could really screw things up… we did not need that.

  “I think…” started Kaylen, but I silently shook my head and she paused.

  Beginners do not give advice. The sorceress would either not be heard or she would be ridiculed.

  A few minutes later the star spun lazily on its axis, showing its boredom. The sound of the first bell. And the clan was like a flustered teenage girl before being picked up to go to the school prom…

/>   “Alright,” the Baroness nodded finally, looking tense, tired, unhappy and… a joyful addition. The head of the Sleepless seemed to be enjoying this difficult situation.

  The decision was made, and the ancient guard was appeased. Three players stepped forward.

  Our first heroes. The first gladiators.

  Two warriors. A half-orc in a very strangle barrel-shaped armor of a dark red color, with a two handed hammer. A man, in a black and gray suit of armor in his one hand, and an iron spiked mace in his left. Both warriors’ levels over the two hundred and thirtieth. Both confident in their abilities.

  Here is the third player. A mage. A human. In a very smart emerald green robe and a blue cloak. On his head, a golden crown. His nickname— Drass. The level not lagging behind the others, but his weapon, at first glance, disappoints— it is a simple wooden staff with a curved end.

  There was the decision.

  The Black Baroness chose two soldiers and a mage. And Drass had worked during our campaign mainly with scrolls. When he used his own magic, it was mostly supportive. And now a yellow aura enveloped all three of the soldiers. But Drass didn’t stop there, continuing to create additional auras.

  Two warriors and a mage against two enemy soldiers and another… soldier, I guess? Who knows. But the decision was a classic one. When the fight is “three and three” this setup is chosen most often.

  As soon as the three of them crossed an invisible like, the guardian began to flash and spin.

  The earth shook, and a large portion of the hillside fell in, forming a kind of square arena. We stayed at the top, looking at the six opponents, from about three to four meters above. Above the makeshift arena flashed a gray magic veil, and then dissipated. That was it. The tournament curtain. Now we were spectators, and could not do anything to affect the outcome of the battle. Not with magic, with might, or even a word— the men would not be able to hear our messages, judging by the onscreen notification, until after the match. Even worse— on the backpacks of our soldiers, strange runes appeared. They would not be able to use the clan’s artillery or equipment. Too bad… but the wide belts, waist bags and pockets remained untouched.

  Two warriors advanced and Drass went on about five meters behind them. Something like a triangle, with the base directed forwards. Again, the old reliable form.

  “The debate begins!” Said the star guardian.

  And it began … The two golems on the sides lunged forwards, jumping to attack. The center soldier began to do something, but what was he doing? Something strange… like trying to worship something, perhaps, resting his forehead and arms on the ground while trying to lift up his legs.

  Ba-a-am! Ba-a-am!

  Almost simultaneously, the running golems were blocked by the men. The collision sounded terribly strong. As if they had been bulls. The health bars of the men slipped down, but quickly went up again— Drass wasn’t slow to act.

  The clanging continued. The strikes went so fast that I could barely keep up. Both pairs of opponents were turning in place, arms interlocked, and hitting each other with everything they could. What terror… four evil cyborgs going at each other without the slightest pity or self-doubt.

  And I hadn’t seen such a battle in a long time. Not one with swords. It was very beautiful— and very impressive, when you saw a player withstand a metal golem. Both of the Sleepless warriors fought hard. The man didn’t miss a single blow. The half orc missed a couple, but only when the golem slashed at his legs— and then the player with the hammer and ace drove the blade dramatically into the armored shoulder and pulled. A long creak, a groan… and the twitching arm fell to the bottom of the arena. The golem became one-handed. What skills were necessary to pull this off? What experience…

  “Damn it!” The Baroness snapped. “What is it?!”

  “I don’t know,” the Baron shook his head, staring at the third enemy intently.

  The one at the center finally achieved his ridiculous posture, resting his forehead and hands in the stone… some kind of acrobatics. And then some kind of stone geyser shot up before him.

  When the cloud lifted and the dust dispersed, an involuntary gasp swept over the audience. There was cursing. Standing on his hands and head the golem looked like a very strangle tripod, jets of steam still escaping from the nozzles on his shoulders. The rock in the arena instantly cracked, and a jet of water centered into the creature’s mouth. The long legs hung freely in the air, in a horizontal position, aimed at the players. I shivered— now these empty legs resembled the muzzle of a gun. The body flared with a red hot glow. Another second, and two thick, tight water jets escaped from the legs, and shot at the opposite wall of the arena, scattering stone fragments.

  “Water gun!” Malice screamed.

  The roar of the audience was deafening. And I myself yelled. Everything had changed in the blink of an eye.

  The water pressure was very strong… and it was also boiling. Despite the dust, thanks to the tournament magic, we could see the outlines of all the participants glowing in the arena. But the gladiators would now have to act blindly.

  The first stream of water ended. But the boiling water was still here— a layer that was about ankle deep. The central golem again began recharging his water supply, preparing for another “hot” attack.

  “This is a swimming pool,” hissed the Baroness evilly. “A pan. They’ve decided to cook my fighters!”

  “And hot water doesn’t work on the golems,” the Baron supported her. “But ours will boil to their deaths! Ugh… if only I’d been there!”

  “And also stone shrapnel! Look there!” Said the voice of Ul, explaining something to Doc.

  Right.

  In addition to the boiling water, several stones were exploding because of the heat.

  A live steam gun firing from two barrels… who could have imagined that this could have been the enemy?!

  Now, moving along the wall, the players were moving to the turret, who was quickly recharging. The golems raced after them. The warrior man ran to one side, the half-orc to another, carrying Drass on his back, who clearly didn’t want to steep his feet in the boiling water…

  “I don’t want to jump the gun,” Kira sighed. “But it’s like preparing chicken soup… it’ll soon be ready, if they do nothing.”

  The center golem stirred, found its target, and instantly fired towards the wall in a stream of boiling water.

  “It’s some kind of magic golem-miner!” Said Ul with conviction. “This isn’t a warrior! He’s working class!”

  “So what?” Came the evil response.

  “Oh, nothing… just my guess… because if he’s a miner— there must be a mine, right? Ahem. Oh!... He got him! Look!”

  One of the jets hit home. The man warrior was knocked down and violently imprinted into the wall of the arena. The armor grated and groaned, and the warrior jerked like a grasshopper on a needle, trying to break from the burning stream. His life quickly crept down.

  Oo-oo-oo…

  “Scalded,” and with a sagging life bar, the warrior, still twisting, pulled a large bottle of bright red liquid from his bag and drank. He did this all while escaping from the golem, which was still attacking him, and continued to run through the knee-deep, boiling water.

  The rest were doing the same. The situation was not going in our favor.

  “Ice!” Shouted Drass, still on the back of the warrior and waving his arms like some kind of outlandish bat.

  Z-z-zang!

  And the whole arena became a bumpy, very ugly ice rink. The water gun golem remained in his pose, his head covered by the ice, and his legs doing some kind of upside down tap dance routine in the air. The two other golems were knee deep in ice.

  Oh, the inescapable classics! Using the enemy’s advantage against him.

  All three players-gladiators had jumped up, and were now returning to the ice surface. The half-orc fell down and slid across the ice, and the two others managed to remain standing. But Drass not only
survived, but landed in a graceful pirouette and gently sliding forwards, sang:

  “La-laaa, la la lala la…”

  “Damned idiots!” Hissed the Baroness angrily. “I’m here about to go into nervous shock, and they’re over there singing!”

  “La la laaa,” supported the half-orc, who had already stood up from the ice and managed to deliver a blow to the armless golem, making him lose another arm. But the golem did not give up— he bent at the waist and began swinging his torso, trying to hit with his head. How angry…

  The second warrior acquired some auras from Drass. He began to deliver brutal blows to the “water cannon.”

  A few moments later he was joined by the half-orc, who didn’t finish the armless golem. A few more seconds, and the ice would melt— all would recover full mobility.

  But… it was all over now.

  The gladiator’s life was restored completely thanks to the efforts of Drass. The water gun, who had presented the greatest challenge, was almost destroyed.

  Unless there was something else…

  There were no surprises.

  Except for the “explosion of the boiler” on the part of the water cannon, after which the man soldier and the half-orc barely survived. But Drass was able to pull through and managed to help the dying fighters.

  The armless golem was the last to be destroyed. He was knocked down and beaten.

  By the way, the half orc was a warrior I would always remember. He was very skillful at taking off limbs, and not afraid of the exchange of strikes. This was aa very serious fighter.

  As soon as the last enemy was defeated there was a sort of solemn chime, coming from somewhere in the heavens.

  Obeying the guardian, the earth rose up and levelled out, bringing us the happy and smiling trio of brave gladiators.

  “Well done,” roared the Red Baron. “Well done! Although the diamond swamp would have been more effective!”

  “Too bad!” Drass shrugged. “We managed anyway.”

  Then the rest of the crowd joined in, and there was the general noise of conversation. I just put two thumbs up, expressing my deep gratitude and praise. I noticed that not only the Sleepless congratulated the winners, but the Architects as well.