by D. Rus
"From now on, no one is killing the Cursed clan zombies for leveling."
The crowd grumbled its discontent. Eyes glistened with anger as alliance members reached for their swords. Wolves aren't used to relinquishing their prey to the first one who lays claim to it. To a tiger alone maybe, yes, but then this stripy cat was the heart and power of the wilderness.
Power! That was exactly what I needed! A defiant demonstration of my might, scary and awe-inspiring. Like I'd done with the ogre who'd brought me his master's message.
I scowled, pinning the entire crowd down with my glare. My words boomed out like a breaker's ball, "I, the First Priest of the Fallen One, take the Cursed clan under my protection!"
An enormous black wing brushed over the wrecked castle, momentarily blocking the sun and freezing hearts in chests. An unusually gray window of a system message sprung open before my eyes,
The Will of the First Priest! By the strength of his faith he, the Elder over his minions, takes the Cursed clan under his protection!
Whoever raises a sacrilegious hand to a creature protected by the Shield of Faith will be damned!
Negative effect I: Their relationship with all the Dark races will deteriorate.
Negative effect II: They will lose some or all of their Faith points, ultimately resulting in their excommunication from the Dark Pantheon.
Holy cow. Whatever had I just done? As far as I remembered, Lena had worked similar stuff under stress, creating a new quest, but I — had I just given a new law to the world?
And what was this, for crissakes?
A new bar, gray and only half-full, appeared next to my usual mixing-table display of life, mana, xp, pets' and mounts' hits statuses. I pointed the mental cursor at it and very nearly dropped off the fifteen-foot golem.
Sainthood: 811/1700.
An optional characteristic. In order to achieve the Sainthood sublevel, a sequence of emotional breakdowns and transformations is required.
The energy of the priest will be used to create new quests, statuses and special missions.
You need to take time and care growing your congregation as well as the number of altars and temples' levels. They will have a direct effect on your own growth and regeneration of your Force.
How's that for rising above the crowd? Truly I say unto you, religion is a tremendous weapon.
I turned my attention to the quietened warriors, their not-so-eager faces grim with anxiety. Nobody seemed to be willing to lose their precious skills or patron god's protection, let alone to be banned access to the Dark Lands.
Excellent. I'd shown them the stick. Now was the time for the carrot that would allow the enemy alliance to save their face.
I PM'd Fuckyall who must have been waiting in anxious incomprehension behind some arrow-studded firing slit.
Do I have your permission to finalize the talks?
I waited for his confirmation and, after having clarified a few minor points, turned back to the sullen enemy soldiers. "I've forbidden you to touch the clan members. But I said nothing about the castle itself!"
Oh, the rekindled interest in their eyes!
"First off, I want you to understand that the Cursed Castle legally belongs to Fuckyall. By marrying Princess Dana he became its rightful owner. I want you to forget for the moment the potential loss of your newb location. I want you to see the bigger picture. We are looking at an eternity. You," I pointed at Gold Helmet who shrunk back, "let's presume for the sake of argument that you're currently dating the beautiful Anuna, the heiress to her father's jewelry house of the same name. That will automatically turn you into the successor to his multimillion business. Will you be happy to see the Crafters Guild send an army to claim your gold simply because your workshop is part of their crafting and leveling location?"
I wasn't sure he'd heeded my last words. The officer's eyes glossed over, his cheeks blushed. I could swear he was seeing himself and the voluptuous Anuna lying on silk sheets in a bed of pure gold. And judging by all the absent stares, he wasn't the only one. Sorry, girl. I had a funny feeling that potential admirers would soon be crowding under her windows.
I had to strike while it was still hot.
I pointed a finger at a stooping orc with a sinister face of the seasoned jail bird. "You! Tomorrow you might hook up with the daughter of the Sun King and become a proper prince! All of the city's nobles will throw themselves at your feet!"
The orc stood up and looked around himself proudly as if expecting his comrades in arms to prostrate themselves before him, bowing to his royal status.
"Listen, guys, I want you to understand. This nursery of yours is nothing. You have an entire city at your feet, populated by NPCs, their daughters, allies and business partners. And now is the time to lay down the new law! The loot dropped by an NPC is sacred! So if you were smart enough to marry into a grocer's family — bully for you, all the meat pies are yours. And if someone wants to take them from you — that's what I call a cheek!"
Whew. I had oversimplified it, hadn't I? But hopefully, I'd managed to reach his greedy instincts.
Gold Helmet came out of his stupor and shouted, interrupting me. "Quit the meat pies. What about the castle?"
I nodded my agreement. I had an idea — a double-edged one, too. I didn't want to leave Fuckyall fleeced of all his gold. The guy still had his own castle to build in my Valley of Fear.
"You can forget the nursery," I said. "The zombies have all gone perma. There won't be any new ones to replace them. If you doubt my word, you're very welcome to check the Gnoll Hill. It's empty as a drum. And if you counted on a luxury castle within the city walls, you got it wrong, too. Once you kill all the zombies and evict Fuckyall, all you'll be getting is concrete walls. If you want to clean and repair it, you'll have to do it yourself. As in, by hand. Because this isn't a palace really but rather a dungeon."
Ah, not so happy now? They seemed to have finally realized the difference between real estate property and a virtual one.
"However," I went on, "Fuckyall and Princess Dana have decided to have a break from the Original City and its hospitality. Which was why it will soon be offered on a ninety-nine year lease. Exactly like the Chinese leased Hong Kong to the Brits. The lot is currently in the process of being entered at open auction. It also includes the vacancy of the castle's new moderator complete with access codes to the dungeon's service interface which in turn opens up possibilities for a property upgrade or restoration, changing portal settings and security systems, to name just a few."
Gold Helmet swallowed it hook, line and sinker. "Why at open auction?" he protested. "What if some outsider outbids us? We should at least have a priority with this lease offer, and a discount! Oh, no. Not one of you is going to leave the Nursery until the bidding is over. And they'd better make sure we win it!"
I snorted sarcastically. Gold Helmet promptly shut up, apparently realizing he'd overdone it a bit. We didn't need anyone's permission to leave the castle any time we wanted. And the enemy alliance members didn't really need to know that the dungeon's new moderator was never going to become its owner. Princess Dana was the one with the super admin rights. So once the time was right, Fuckyall could always come back and reclaim his own.
A sullen man shouldered the embarrassed officer aside and walked forth. "What are your conditions?"
Aha, this had to be one of the leaders. Widowmaker sent me a quick message,
This is Flint, the clan leader of the Light Bearers. Second in the alliance.
I held his cold steel glare. In the past, had I found myself on the carpet of some such bigwig — like a police general or a KGB operative — I'd be bleating and mumbling. But now... Now I had Justice on my side. And Power. It feels so good to know you have the right size fists to protect the good that you do!
"I want you to come up with a fair offer," I said. "Without access codes the castle is worth jack shit. You can't build an outhouse without them these days, let alone a proper Bastion castle in the heart
of a capital city. This is a unique opportunity and you know it."
Flint paused, sizing me up for a pine overcoat, then answered civilly, "Very well. We accept you as the middle man. We will make an offer shortly. The zombies are to leave the castle within twenty-four hours."
If he so wished. He had to have his way in something, otherwise no one would understand him.
I waited some more but he was apparently done speaking. I nodded and slapped the top of the golem's head, "Steer off to those first-floor windows. Time to pay a few visits."
The golem turned round. Immediately I heard Flint's calm voice,
"Hey you, First Priest."
I turned, once again meeting his heavy glare.
"Just make sure you don't bite off more than you can chew," he continued. "You should remember your place. Don't ever get in my way again. Next time you might not get away so easily."
Had he just threatened the First Priest? In front of everyone? This was a challenge I couldn't leave unanswered. By insulting me, he was discrediting the Fallen One.
I racked my mind for a suitable response but found none. Desperate, I scooped up as much Sainthood as I could, working a little miracle for the masses.
An enormous pair of ghostly black wings opened in the sky, obscuring the horizon behind my back. The Fallen One's gigantic figure loomed above, wagging a warning finger.
Being new to this priestly stuff, I underestimated the amount of force I needed, emptying my stocks to add believability and monumentality to the illusion created. But was it really an illusion? The Fallen One's glare pinned the spectators to the ground, freezing words in their throats. An oppressive silence hung over the battlefield, disturbed only by the croaking of disappointed ravens and a quiet crackling sound as Flint's petrified figure was turning back to flesh.
Chapter Seven
The United Korea cluster. A Nova Castle, the patrimonial estate of the Gimhae clan.
The clan's combat section coiled its armored spring at the foot of an impregnable donjon. Despite the castle courtyard's impressive size, it couldn't comfortably hold the eight hundred fully equipped warriors. Their ranks were broken by a miscellany of pets, mounts and even an occasional golem.
Support services huddled by the walls: all those buffers and reserves complete with the HQ and their bodyguards. Their turn was to come much later, once the entry perimeter was mopped up.
The Gimhae clan, which had long been enjoying its position in the Korean sector's Top 10, had decided to take the risk of probing the mysterious Inferno on their own. They could always ask the United Asian Alliance to join in if needed — but the offence that the clan had suffered by the sharing of the Diamond Egg still smarted. They had honestly pulled their weight while battling the awesome Nagafen, but it had been the Geondal clan that had lain their hands on the precious Black Guard stone, silencing any unhappy voices either with gold or with threats.
"The portal will open in... thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!.."
The voice of the clan's chief cabbie echoed from the high walls, his slim nervous fingers crumpling the precious scroll they had bought from the short-sighted Russians for a crazy amount of money.
His anxiety was quite understandable: this penniless North Korean kid was holding in his hands a scrap of parchment worth a hundred and thirty thousand dollars, exactly the same as his lifelong dream: a two-bed in Pyongyang's poshest suburb. He was dying to activate an evacuator to jump the wall, then rapid-port out and sell the scroll to the clan's competitors for half as much again. It was doable. The problem was, he couldn't hide from them in real life. They would find him and make an example of him by hanging him by the balls on a fiber optic cable.
There was no way that they wouldn't find him. His virtual connection contract had been sealed with his digital signature. And whoever had that, could unravel his entire life from the first maternity tests to yesterday's purchase of a pack of condoms in a public toilet vending machine.
"The portal will open in... Three! Two! Go!"
With an impressive rumble, a burgundy-colored arch blossomed on top of the portal pad secured in a large thick-barred cage.
The cabbie peered at the status of the spell he was casting, then reported on the HQ channel,
"The Portal closes automatically in fifteen minutes' time. Its capacity is only limited by the direction of the traffic: one-way."
He heard a sigh of relief from one of the staff officers. The data was quite acceptable. So they didn't need to take the toughest option.
"First one away!"
The ogre gatekeeper screeched the crank that raised the heavy cast-iron portcullis.
An ever-watchful raider darted toward the portal. Hung with a plethora of shields and buffs aimed at prolonging the ranger's life in any environment — even if he fell into a pool of magma — he dove into the arch, hurriedly commenting in the chat about the situation on the other side.
"A basalt valley! Rocky ridges! Volcanos on the horizon — and some monsters bathing in torrents of lava! Here's the screenshot! An unknown creature at six hundred feet at five o'clock, level 320! And another! Two more! I observe about two dozen, with the potential to pull them one by one. Screenshot! I observe their shepherd, level 400, and a pack of Cerberi, level 300+. The entry perimeter is safe!"
The HQ reaction was knee-jerk, "Perimeter mopping-up group!"
About fifty warriors lunged through the portal and fell into a protective circle around the entry zone. "All clear!"
"Attention all raiders! Commence teleporting! Clan code yellow! Increase the numbers of NPC guards to forty percent of the maximum. Wish us luck!"
The steel snake of lined-up warriors stirred and shoved its curious head into the portal arch. The clan's elite was heading into the unknown, hoping for generous xp and unique loot.
Neither the raid buffs nor the players' patience were going to last forever. No one was in the mood to go on an extended hike across the lava plains. Which was why in less than two minutes the clan's main puller — who was riding the fastest scout golem, his magic resistance maxed out beyond human belief — was already bringing the first basalt-chewing "cow" of the peacefully grazing herd.
The attempt wasn't his best one. The ranger had been right: the mobs were guarded by a petty demon and his Cerberi. Despite the fact that the moment was perfect — the pooches were at the opposite end of the lava plain — they lost no time aggroing the puller, chasing after him and compensating for their lower speed with a much better knowledge of the terrain.
The kid was an expert though. He didn't pull the train toward the raid but started twisting a risky path along the line of warriors, allowing his assistants to pull monsters one by one and chop them to mincemeat within seconds.
And chop they did. Eight hundred sentients against a single modest mob — the ultimate form of respect that they paid to the unknown enemy. And still the raid leader played it safe by keeping the casters' mana over 90%, allowing his analysts to study the Infernal creatures in peace.
They made a quick job of the Cerberi. The shepherd demon followed suit. The raid tanks held the aggro, swallowing the damage, grunting under the mob's deadly punches that knocked off a good thousand hits at a time. With over a hundred assorted healers at the rear, they had nothing to worry about.
The sluggish armored cow was the last and the hardest kill. It had indecent amounts of health and excellent resistance to physical damage. Also, it kept regenerating, ripping pieces of flesh from the warriors' bodies and gulping them down without chewing. The tanks swore at their injuries, remarkably painful and bleeding, that considerably restricted their mobility.
And still they found the creature's weak spots. The cow was susceptible to cold and had several vulnerable splits in its seemingly impermeable armor.
During a two-minute break the loot master did a quick run, collecting the spoils. A moment later, the entire clan was shaking in greedy anticipation. Yes! The creature's precious armor plates were made of chitin —
the impenetrable component that before had only been available on three unique dragons. And here it were dropped by quite mediocre (as far as Inferno went) monsters. Chitin was worth its own (quite hefty) weight in gold, simply because it was the best armor upgrade ingredient known to AlterWorld. Fifty points apiece! And you could hang as many of those onto yourself as you wanted, provided you had the strength necessary to lug them around.
The demon shepherd dropped a very interesting whip which created an immediate behind-the-scenes war among the rogues. Those sly operators just loved its ability to wrap itself around the victim, immobilizing it and strangling it with its seven tails of fire.
While the clan finished off the herd, the rangers headed up into the unknown lands, mapping the territory and looking for any potential farming locations. They sent in two triumphant reports at once: they had discovered two one-off Antique dungeons. They had to be at least a year old!
Never before had the Gimhae clan laid their hands on this kind of treasure. They'd only heard legends of such heaps of ancient artifacts and gold amassed by the mobs.
The clan leader bit his lip, afraid of spoiling their luck. The Russians hadn't lied. The area had never been explored. Regardless of their raid's outcome, they simply had to come back. These lands held the key to the clan's future power and its top position in the cluster's rankings.
Seven hours later, the group — which had been forced to break down into several smaller subraids — had mopped up five one-off dungeons and a dozen herds. They kept the castle posted about their progress and everybody there was now shaking with greed. The loot extended their wildest expectations.
The raid's chief tank held the freshly-won Blade of Darkness that swallowed the light around it. The experienced warrior cast an occasional doubtful glance about him, as if asking, 'Is this really mine? Honest?'
The top wizard — the damage master lovingly leveled by the clan — was gingerly holding the Crystal of Salamander to his chest like a lost child. This Crystal gave an incredible +60% to fire spell damage. A stone like this cost the equivalent of a luxury car.
