Our commander glanced at his wristwatch, gasped and started getting ready to go. He put his trusty machinegun into his inventory, changed his metal armor for civilian clothing and ordered all three of us to line up in formation outside the tower.
“All in all, I’d say you had a good first patrol!” the group leader declared. “The enemy did not cross the border, and all the newbies are still alive. You leveled up, improved your skills, and learned something about the game. So, I’d say I did my job. As for Gnat’s unauthorized border crossing, I will not mention it in my report, because it all ended for the best. But don’t go wagging your tongues about it. Agreed?”
My friends and I promised the commander to keep silent on the minor incident. Just then, the familiar little bus came around a bend in the mountain switchback.
“Now that’s great! Take your places, let’s go back to the Capital. If we don't get stuck on our way, lunch won’t even get cold!”
* * *
We ate lunch in a dining hall identical to the one we had breakfast in this morning. We even sat at the same table. But this time, we were in a virtual game at the central base of our faction. It was a very bizarre sensation. Unfortunately, there were too many people around, so I was too embarrassed to ask my friends whether the virtual food would nourish my real body.
At the table, we were reunited with Masha, Denis and Artur. It immediately became clear that none of them had done any border patrol. Instead, those three had spent the first half of their day in science buildings: Masha in a chemistry laboratory, hidden from prying eyes in the Jungles node, while Artur and Denis were stationed at the Prometheus.
“We're synthesizing explosives in a remote location in the middle of an endless forest, and testing various priming compositions for detonators and capsules. Some are working with lead azides, others with hexogen or peroxides. I was assigned to experiment with mercury fulminate. I even died once today!” Masha boasted, as if that was something to be proud of. “A flask blew up in my hands, and I came back at the respawn point!”
While Masha the level-four Chemist had lots to say, Artur and Denis had nothing to share about their work, saying it was top secret. All I could do was glean some clues from their game data:
Artur Ganin. Human. H3 Faction. Level-5 Constructor.
Denis Tormashyov. Human. H3 Faction. Level-5 Engineer.
Unlike them, Anya and the normally taciturn Imran sang like nightingales, describing our shift on the border with the centaurs. They showed off the shells and pearls they’d collected, and even a piece of pyrite. It was clear that our scientist friends were secretly jealous, though they wouldn’t admit it. But I was busting my brains over why the leadership had split us up like this, sending half of us on a combat mission, and the other half to laboratories. Was it due to our classes? Probably.
Then, I felt a wave of déjà vu. Before we were done with our meal, the same fit First Legion blonde walked up to our table. In the game, she didn’t wear tight athletic clothes, but a formless baggy camouflage garment that quickly changed color to match her surroundings. Just like a chameleon! I’d never seen technology like this before, so I saw that before paying any mind to the athlete’s information:
Svetlana Vereshchagina. Human. H3 Faction. Level-64 Assassin.
Assassin? A murderer?! I was struck by the sweet young girl’s class. Gopnik Denis, who was wolfing down a plate of greasy plov started choking and couldn’t catch his breath. Svetlana gave him a confident slap on the back, immediately breaking out the piece of trapped food.
“Thank you,” he squeezed out grudgingly through his teeth. Then he immediately groaned: “I didn’t ask for help, though. I could have managed.”
“No, you would have died and had to run to my fitness class from the respawn point! And you need to save your energy with those smoked-out lungs! By the way, I was ordered to gather all the newbies on the athletic field in ten minutes. So, finish your food quick, drink your compote and go fall in line!”
We were almost done with lunch, though, so we were practically ready. Anya, who had yet to touch either the meat broth or the plov limited herself to salad, so she was done. She stood from the table first, setting an example for the rest. We followed her to the athletic field. There was already a large group of level-three-to-five newbies there. Some of them looked comical in their camouflage military uniforms. Most of them had clearly never held anything more dangerous than a fork before.
“Why schedule exercise right after a meal?!” Imran didn’t hide his incomprehension. The PE instructor measured up the muscular Dagestani athlete and gave a good-hearted chuckle:
“Imran, in the real world you’d be right. That is not how it’s done. But this is just a game, so don’t you worry!”
Anya and Imran, both level-seven, immediately stood out from the motley crew. And it wasn’t so much their higher level as it was the fact that they at least distantly looked like they could fight. At level nine, I felt like a hardened veteran, until I was rudely put in my place by the instructor:
“Gnat, I was ordered to keep an especially close eye on you,” she said, stopping next to me and not hiding a mocking smirk. “With your ability to worm your way into places you have no business being, and knack for finding trouble, I just hope you don’t die before class is over. So, I never want you to leave my sight. Everyone else, run up this path to the stadium!”
To be honest, I was shaken by the mistrust, but I tried not to show it. The whole group of fifty newbies jogged ahead. Svetlana and I walked unhurriedly after them. Just after the last runners were past a bend in the path, my companion said quietly, without turning her head:
“All that is the honest truth. Ivan Lozovsky is very upset with your behavior, especially what happened at the Geckho warehouses. He has spoken with Tyulenev about drawing up an individualized training schedule for you, to make sure someone always has an eye on you, so you don’t get up to any more hijinks. But that wasn’t the only reason I sent the others away. I’ve heard a rumor you’ve got pearls, and you're looking to trade.”
I immediately knew the source of this rumor. Kisly must have been blabbing to everyone about me trading condoms with the centaurs. Regardless, I didn’t deny it.
“One hundred forty pearls, two large,” I confirmed.
“I’ll take the standard ones at a rate of twenty-five pearls per crystal. I’ll need to see the large ones before I name my price. In any case, it will be a better deal for you than selling them to the Geckho.”
Well, why not? I showed the two larger pearls to Svetlana, and she gave her conclusions:
“I’ll give eight red crystals for all the pearls. You’ll never find a better price. But my character has high Trading, so I get a better exchange rate.”
I agreed and received eight identical multifaceted red crystals. They seemed to pulsate with an internal glow. The assassin girl was very satisfied with the exchange and put the pearls in her inventory, then suggested we start jogging to catch up with the rest of the group. Just after the athletic field came into view, I got a few system messages in a row:
Cartography skill increased to level eleven!
Medium Armor skill increased to level four!
You have reached level ten!
You have received three skill points!
Congratulations! You now have two more skill slots!!!
Despite the fact that Svetlana was running two steps ahead of me, she noticed my character levelling up. Did she have eyes on the back of her head or something? Maybe she saw detailed information about all characters on the mini map. At any rate, Svetlana stopped sharply, and I nearly ran into her.
“So, you’ve reached level ten in less than a day?” she clarified.
I just nodded, because it was hard enough to breathe after the long run. Talking was out of the question. The instructor commented with clear approval:
“Excellent result, Gnat. You could even try to beat our faction record: thirteen levels in the first day. If y
ou manage, I bet faction leadership will be much more understanding of your risky behavior. You can say it’s all been part of your leveling plan. It may be unusual, but they will not be able to argue with your results. Everyone loves a winner, after all.”
“So, who set the faction record?” I asked, having just caught my breath, and the assassin grew embarrassed and lowered her gaze to the ground.
“Well, I was actually the first to get thirteen levels on my first day. Another three in our faction have done the same since. You’ve got six hours left to beat my record.”
Chapter Sixteen. Free Time
IT WASN’T THAT I was exactly afraid of getting chewed out by leadership, but I wasn’t looking forward to it either. And so, given there was a way to avoid being picked apart, I needed to try and level up as much as possible in the next six hours. To beat the record, I would have to get another four levels before sunset. To my eye, it was totally possible. Each subsequent level was harder to get, though. To get to level two, I just had to activate scanning a few times and see part of the labyrinth map. For ten, I’d needed to raise a skill seven or eight times.
So then, how could I do this? Scanning? I was already using it every time it reloaded. Cartography worked automatically when my character saw new areas. Medium Armor also leveled on its own, although quite slowly. I just had to make sure not to remove my Kevlar jacket. Those three skills were basically passive and leveled on their own. But I strongly suspected they would not be enough to get me four more levels in the time I had left.
But the rest of my skills — Electronics, Astrolinguistics, Break-in, Rifles and Mineralogy could only be used in certain conditions. And so, I would have to try and bring as many of them together as possible. Ideally, converse with an alien or foreigner somewhere with valuable mineral ore, while soldering an electronic security system and occasionally shooting a rifle. I couldn’t hold back the stupid ear-to-ear smile, imagining such a surreal picture.
“Gnat, did I say something funny?” the fitness instructor threw out, peeved.
She was now telling us how to raise our base stats. It was very, very difficult. To raise one’s Constitution by just one point required exhausting monotonous work-outs, pushing your body to the very edge for around eight hours. After that, to raise Constitution by another point, you’d have to endure similar torture for around three weeks. And although the Geckho assured us that a third point could be added to Constitution, no humans had yet managed to do so.
“No ma’am, there’s nothing funny about hours of torturous exercise,” I answered, and she finally stopped boring into me with her dismayed gaze.
“Svetlana, may I ask a question?” I didn’t even turn my head. I knew that little nerd by voice. He was asking yet another pointless question. “My character is a scientist specializing in theoretical physics. I’ll spend all my time in a laboratory. Why do I need to level Constitution and Strength?”
The assassin was instantly ten steps from the newbie, and I didn’t understand how she did it. But just a second later, the nerd and all the newbies standing next to him were lying on the ground, writhing in pain and gasping for air, like fish out of water. Svetlana, not paying any attention to the fallen scientists, turned to the rest:
“Let me tell you all the cautionary tale of why we do not have a player number two hundred twenty-four in the Human-3 Faction. His name was Valentin. He, by the way, was also a physicist. And he assured us that he didn’t need fitness training, or any combat skills, because he was not planning to leave the laboratory ever. That stubborn ass also, despite many warnings and even direct orders from leadership, had not spent any of his free skill points since he entered the game. He said he’d use them all after it became too hard to level his skills the normal way.”
“But that’s a good strategy!” gopnik Denis interrupted Svetlana. “People do that in every game!”
The assassin girl looked severely at Denis, and I thought he would get laid out too. But Svetlana just gave a wry chuckle and continued her story:
“For three months, Valentin insisted on doing things his way, becoming the weakest link in the laboratory, significantly behind his colleagues. It was really getting on our nerves. He just fed us all promises that eventually he would catch up and be the highest level. But then, a group of Dark Faction saboteurs attacked... The Prometheus is just some four miles from the border, and that’s two minutes on an antigrav. Our enemies went straight for it, blew up a few workshops, and a couple scientists were sent to respawn. Among them was Valentin the physicist. And he, by the way, was level thirty-nine. All one hundred fourteen of his unused skill points burnt up. That day, Valentin locked himself in his room and hung himself... And so, like it or not, there’s a clear order from Leng Radugin: all skill points must be spent within twenty-four hours. What’s more, every member of the H3 faction must undergo basic fitness and military training, so they can hold their own if need be. No one is expecting military greatness from you, but in case of danger, at the very least you’ll be able to hold out until the First or Second Legion arrive!”
* * *
The next hour and a half we exercised. An obstacle course, strength training, push-ups and pull-ups. But above all, running with weights. Everyone’s character had a weight calculated for them depending on their Strength and Endurance. It was hell…
Silent in exhaustion, with a heavy log on my shoulders, I made lap after lap on the tarmac track. The worst part was that I could never say: “I can’t, it's too heavy.” Svetlana was a sadist and knew perfectly well what I was capable of. What was more, she put us all into a group and, as its leader, she could see everyone’s health and endurance bars.
The system suggested I take new skills with my free slots several times: Survival, Loader, Athlete, Long-Distance Runner and, for some reason, Meteorologist. But I read all their descriptions and didn’t take any of them. They just weren’t for me. It was a good idea to take two more skills, but not just because. I needed to weight all the plusses and minuses, along with their potential benefit.
After all, who was my character going to be? A Prospector’s job was to work with electronic scanning devices and find things of value. So, I arrived at two conclusions at once. First, I needed to pick new skills to help me with my primary ones. Anything that could help me discover better things, farther away, or scan more often. Second, it was important that I be able to sell what I found for as much as possible. Trading those pearls for crystals had proven that, without the Trading skill and knowledge of average prices, I could end up with a lot less.
My endurance reached zero and I was falling over in exhaustion, so I had to take a breather. Using the time, I asked the experienced instructor what skills might allow me to discover hidden enemies, traps and items.
“Are you picking your two new skills at level ten?” Svetlana immediately guessed. “What can I say? You’re not wasting any time. The classes Sentry and Spy as well as Assassin have the primary skills Danger Sense, Eagle Eye and Sharp Hearing. I bet one of those would be of use to a Prospector. But overall, I advise all my students to level Sharpshooter. It works for any long-distance weapon, reducing scatter and increasing chance of critical hits.”
I thanked the instructor for her help, put the log back on my shoulders and shuffled off for another lap. At the same time, I called up explanations of the skills Svetlana had suggested. I especially liked Eagle Eye:
Eagle Eye. This skill lets you see farther and have a higher chance of discovering items and creatures in adverse conditions (fog, smoke, darkness, camouflage etc.). As this skill improves, you will be able to see farther, and have a better chance of discovering hidden objects. Minimum statistics: Perception 18, Intelligence 15.
Exactly what I was looking for!
You have taken the skill Eagle Eye level 1.
After prolonged consideration, I followed the experienced mentor's advice again and filled the other slot with Sharpshooter. Sure, Trading would be nice, but I needed to I’d nee
d to be able to take down enemies and other dangerous creatures to get and keep anything worth selling. After all, Gnat’s combat abilities clearly needed work. The example of my recent encounter with a swarm of field pests had shown that clearly.
You have taken the skill Sharpshooter level 1.
Sure, Sharpshooter may not have been the best possible choice to beat the one-day record. However, in the longer perspective, it had clear plusses, especially considering the overlap between Sharpshooter and my high Luck Modifier, which gave a higher chance of crits.
I was in a mental fog for the next half hour of training. I was immeasurably tired. If not for my desire to break the faction record, my only thought would have been collapsing on the grass and lying there for a few hours. But instead, I was keeping careful track of time and planning my next moves. Just ten minutes before I finished my exercises, I got a double message:
Medium Armor skill increased to level five!
Scanning skill increased to level seventeen!
Finally... Although it was quite little for an hour and a half running myself ragged! There was just four hours left until sunset, and my progress bar to level eleven had reached just a quarter of the scale. Not enough, not at all. I placed the three skill points I got at level ten into Scanning just like the last time, raising it to level 20.
I thought up a clear plan of action for the rest of the day and, just as Svetlana told me exercise was over, I ran back to base.
“Gnat, wait! Where are you going?” Imran called out to me, overheated and soaked in sweat.
The level-8 Gladiator was very happy after working out and, based on his present level, had grown quite a bit. But now, Imran was seemingly counting on all of us going somewhere together as a group. But I had totally different plans for this evening:
“I need to find our Geologist right away to discuss our partnership. Some guy named Mikhalych. They say he can be hard to track down.”
Countdown (Reality Benders Book #1) LitRPG Series Page 12
