The Way of the Outcast (Mirror World Book #3) LitRPG series

by Alexey Osadchuk

  "Kiddo, mind going down a few feet?"

  Boris cast me a sideways look, as if to say, 'You aren't serious, are you?' Still, he promptly obeyed.

  Once we'd descended a bit closer, everything had become clear. The beast couldn't care less about me. He was under attack himself.

  His assailants looked weird like everything else in this so-called newb location. They had skinny monkey-like bodies covered in hairless skin of a dirty gray hue. They had long front legs and short hind ones. Not the nicest of guys. Not to even mention their heads.

  I'd once happened to visit a client on business. He had this large fish tank in his office in which he had piranhas swimming around. The guy had a very nasty habit of making his visitors watch the fishies' meal times. Admittedly I'm not a lover of such scenes but that day I couldn't very easily have said no.

  Now too, as I watched the bald "monkeys" throw themselves at the beast, I had a vague déjà vu feeling. Same fish heads packed with needle-sharp teeth. Same sharp, twitching motions.

  I'd love to know what had affected this particular game designer's creativity. "Boris, mind going down a bit more? They can't see us, anyway."

  He obeyed, allowing me to survey the scene in greater detail. As I studied the local uglies, the system helpfully informed me about their nature.

  The game developers hadn't invested much imagination into the giant beast's name, either. He was simply a Stomper. The fish-headed monkeys were Swamp Monks.

  According to their respective descriptions, the Stomper was the location's biggest mob in the area and Swamp Monks were the deadliest. They were fast and very smart; besides, they always hunted in packs.

  Their levels made me wonder, for the umpteenth time, if I was indeed in the right place. The Swamp Monks were all level 20. Stomper was 30. This way I might just as well have gone to No-Man's Lands. There was something wrong here. Something very wrong.

  As I thus indulged in navel-gazing, the fish-headed midgets were gradually overpowering the roaring giant.

  I counted at least ten of them. They were swift and dexterous. There seemed to be a system in their attack. They'd done it before, that's for sure. Five of them clung to the Stomper's back, trying to bite through his thick hide and the powerful muscles protecting his spine. The other five bustled around the mob's feet, shrieking and snapping their sharp teeth.

  Even a nerd like myself with zero hunting skills could see they were trying to distract him.

  The beast was clearly tired but still trying to sink his long fangs into his attackers. He was too slow though. In his situation, he should either move little and try to preserve his energy or duck back into the woods where the monkeys would find it harder to move. Still, the game developers must have cut a corner in his Intellect department.

  Gradually his roaring changed, sounding more like a whimper. The Monks chirped with glee: one of them must have finally gotten to the creature.

  No idea why I did what I did next. It could be the giant's helplessness — or it could have been the Monks' nasty cheering that must have reminded me of something from my past. It didn't matter. I attacked them.

  The moment I lay the first pebble into the slingshot, I received the first unpleasant surprise. A new message materialized, its letters acid red,

  Warning! The Air Attack restriction has been activated!

  -20% to Damage dealt to ground targets.

  Keep leveling and gaining experience, and one day it will change!

  What was that, for crissakes? What did they think they were doing? They'd clipped our wings in mid-flight!

  First they'd given me this ridiculous weapon, then sent me to this so-called newb location, and now this? What kind of sick joke was that?

  Calm down, I said to myself. No good falling apart. Let's think logically. The slingshot might explain itself later. It might actually prove to be a worthy weapon every bit as good as some exquisite Elven Bow... or at least I hoped so.

  As for this place, I might have to look into it once I logged out. They couldn't expect a newb to start playing against mobs twenty times his or her own level!

  This restriction, however — setting all emotions aside and thinking logically — actually made more sense than anything mentioned above. As a zero level, I was bound to be subject to restrictions.

  To sum it all up, if the gameplay's logic was anything to go by, I was in for lots of discoveries and unpleasant surprises.

  As I was thus collecting my thoughts from the information overload, the Stomper was already on his last legs. Digital legs, but still. Naturally he was going to respawn in due time but that was yet to happen — provided I failed to step in. This wasn't the right moment to ponder about the future. I had to act fast. Stupid as it may sound, if I didn't help him now, I might repent my indecision at my leisure.

  "Boris, mind circling them for a bit? Slowly. I need to take good aim."

  I grabbed the slingshot's pouch with my thumb and index finger.

  The sling pulled taut.

  My hand froze alongside my right eye.

  I took aim.

  I'd long decided on my first target: an especially brazen Monk who'd sunk his teeth into the giant's neck, showering him with blood from a severed artery.

  Before letting go of the pouch, I smiled at a sudden thought. Funny, really. The slingshot was actually the only weapon I knew how to use. I'd had a whole childhood of experience.

  The smooth little rock escaped my hand with an unexpected force, sending a brief vibration from my weapon hand to my left shoulder. Wow. This was something I'd never seen happen as a child!

  In one powerful pop, just like in that YouTube video, the little bastard flew off the Stomper's neck.

  The system message was another surprise.

  You've attacked a level 20 Swamp Monk.

  Damage dealt: 40

  Keep on fighting!

  How freakin' much? Forty points? Didn't its stats say one point of something? Not that it made too much difference to the nasty midget, not with his levels. Still, for my zero level forty points damage was way beyond my dreams. What could have caused it?

  Wait a sec.

  I knew it! I wasn't just any zero level, was I? My gear stats, that's what must have done it. This was the 116 Strength points of my Reflection kit in action. And that's with their 20% restriction, too.

  Naturally, had I been standing down there on the beach, the Monks would have made quick work of me. But I'd rather swap the considerable extra damage for the safety of Boris' back.

  Actually, judging by the stats' description, my mount was supposed to receive part of my XP without detracting from it. Ditto for Prankster. So it wouldn't be a bad idea to summon him too. He could sit on Boris' neck and learn the ropes.

  Prankster materialized on my shoulder and immediately leaped onto his big buddy's head, paying no heed to me. Why should he? The unfolding show below was much more fascinating.

  My attack hadn't gone unnoticed. The Monks knew we were there. The one I'd shot down was angrier than the rest: a couple of times he'd even tried to jump in the air to get at us.

  He could jump, I tell you. If he were intelligent enough to climb onto the Stomper's head and repeat his attempt from there, he might just have made it. I told Boris to climb a bit higher.

  The Stomper's column-like hind legs gave way from under him. The Monks shrieked their triumph. For a split second they'd forgotten all about me, the whole pack assaulting the monster.

  Big mistake.

  My second pebble hit the most forward one right between the eyes just as he was about to sink his teeth into the Stomper's throat.

  You've attacked a level 20 Swamp Monk.

  Damage dealt: 35

  Keep on fighting!

  Screaming his indignation, the Monk tumbled to the ground. Immediately — much to my surprised relief — the Stomper joined in the action. With one swing of his giant head, the wounded Monk lay broken on the sand.

  That was it.

&nb
sp; One down.

  The following message admittedly pleased me,

  You've killed a level 20 Swamp Monk!

  You've received Experience!

  Congratulations! You've received Achievement: David and Goliath

  Reward: +2% to Physical Damage dealt by you

  +1% to your chance of receiving Knowledge in combat.

  This was another thing that differed from my old Grinder account: I could receive Achievements now. Forums spoke at length about this important phenomenon. If you disregarded all the emotions and boiled it down to the facts, they made Achievements one of Mirror World's sacred mysteries. No one could tell how many types of them there were nor offer any kind of chart or classification. The Achievements system seemed to be a fickle and unpredictable beast. Or, as the local old-timers put it, highly randomized.

  Both mine and my beasts' green XP bars continued to fill up. This was a good sign. I seemed to be doing everything right.

  The funny thing was, I hadn't received any XP for my first shot. Simply attacking a monster wasn't enough, apparently. You then had to win the fight. Losers didn't receive XP. So if the Stomper managed to finish off my first target, that would be excellent.

  The loss of a pack member must have reminded the other Monks that their victim was still going strong. I made a mental note to steer clear of the giant in the future. You wouldn't want to fool around with a creature that could swat a 1000 pt. Life mob like a fly.

  The Stomper put the Monks' hesitation to good use. He scrambled to his feet and staggered toward the forest.

  "Good decision, buddy. These idiots won't be able to get to you so easily in there."

  Judging by the Monks' squeaking, they didn't like this latest development at all. They sprang onto the Stomper, redoubling their efforts.

  "Thanks for turning your backs to me," I said, loosing off another pebble, the biggest I had. Like an infuriated bee, it sank into the back of my first target's head just as he was climbing the retreating Stomper's leg.

  The pebble had stripped the little bastard of 50 pt. Life.

  Sensing my support, the Stomper swung round. His left foot made a sound like a sink plunger as it stamped the wounded Monk deep into the sand.

  Two down!

  My XP bar was already half-full. Excellent. That's the way to do it.

  The wounded Stomper seemed to have gotten second wind. He was really on a roll. Two more Monks went down. Who'd have thought he had so much left in him still!

  Despite having lost nearly half their pack within the last few minutes, the Monks persisted albeit not as enthusiastically anymore. Six isn't the same as ten, after all. Also, I got the impression that the Monk I'd assaulted first had been their pack leader. Without him, their new attack was pretty disjointed. They paid for it straight away, losing the fifth pack member to the Stomper's powerful jaws as he attempted to get to the giant's throat.

  I singled out the most active one. He seemed to be trying to organize his teammates. I had to give the midgets their due: having lost half their force, they were still on the offensive.

  With a loud release of the sling and a resounding clap, another rock escaped my Minor Slingshot, followed by an angry squeak as it found its target.

  You've attacked a level 20 Swamp Monk.

  Damage dealt: 20

  Keep on fighting!

  Not very generous, was it? Apparently, the lower Damage must have had something to do with the shorter range and the smaller slug. Still, for the Stomper it had been plenty. Left for a brief moment without their new leader's guidance, the four remaining Monks lost two more fighters to his powerful blows.

  That was that. You could say we were four against their three. We were in the majority!

  Before I could celebrate the fact, my unexpected ally lost his footing: either due to the loss of blood or simple carelessness. It didn't matter anymore. I watched as he slowly collapsed to the ground to the Monks' cheerful squealing.

  Waving their front legs with glee, they charged at him.

  No idea what had come over me. I was probably angry I'd failed to help him. Or just mad at him for having screwed up so stupidly just when victory was within our reach. I really don't know.

  I loosed off all the remaining pebbles in one long burst. I didn't even need to take aim: they were all within an arm's reach of each other.

  Of course my pebbles were like mosquito bites to them. Still, they served their purpose. Once again the Stomper managed to surprise me. In one desperate thrust he rose on his hind legs, then dropped onto the approaching enemies.

  That was the end of it. He'd just swatted them like as many flies.

  Congratulations! You've received a new level!

  Current level: 1

  Reward: +10 to Knowledge.

  Current Knowledge: 10/40

  Congratulations! You've received Achievement: One Soldier Can Make a Battle.

  Reward:

  +1% to Physical Damage dealt by you;

  +1% to your chances of knocking your opponent unconscious in battle.

  I looked at my pets. "You okay, guys? First blood to us."

  The system obligingly dished out their respective XP. We were growing! I just loved it.

  I stroked Prankster's little head. "You know what, guys? I think I start to like this place."

  Boris turned a few circles over the motionless Stomper, then began to descend. I told him to land next to my first slain Monk.

  Close by, they looked even uglier than from a distance. Add to that the unbearable stench of rotten fish. Bah. It must have been my brain playing up.

  As I looked at the Monk, I had a growing suspicion that the game designers weren't a 100% mentally stable. The creature was a half-finished sketch of a fish mutant apparently arrested in its development just as it had entered Mirror World.

  Suppressing a bout of nausea, I stopped and crouched next to it. Right, what did we have here? My first reward... or loot in game speak.

  Items received:

  An Eye of a Swamp Monk, 1

  A Tooth of a Swamp Monk, 3

  A Clot of Slime from a Swamp Monk, 1

  I was surprised how clean the actual process was. I didn't have to grope inside this ugly monkeyfish's guts. The system did it all for me. The moment I agreed to pick up the items, they miraculously appeared in my bag while the Monk's body began to vanish into thin air. Good news. No idea how I'd have managed without this function.

  Having studied the remaining six bodies, I'd acquired more teeth, slime and other obnoxious substances including a few vials of Venom of Swamp Monk. I just hoped that some of this was worth something.

  "Right. Seven checked, three more to go."

  Had Dmitry not reminded me that all slain enemies had to be checked for loot, I would never have thought about it. It took some getting used to. Which I probably would. It looked as if I might be doing this quite often.

  I warily approached the Stomper lying motionless on the sand. You never know what he might do.

  I stopped a few paces away. Now I could see clearly that my intervention had been pointless from the start. The giant had been doomed the moment he'd been attacked. The edges of the numerous bites covering his body were turning black even as I watched. This must have been the Swamp Monk venom taking its toll.

  The poor giant was shuddering, his wide barrel-shaped belly rising and dropping as he struggled to gasp his last breaths. It was a miracle he'd lasted as long as he had.

  His red Life bar hovered at 80. Apparently, some inner force just wouldn't let him die peacefully.

  I raised my head to the sky. "You over there! Quit torturing him, will ya?"

  No one seemed to have heard me. And if they had, they were probably sitting there laughing their heads off.

  "It's all right, man," I whispered, digging my hand into the sand. "It'll all be over in a minute. Oh... this one looks good enough."

  The large pebble was much heavier than those I'd used earlier. It looked ugly and ou
t of place in the pouch of my slingshot. I didn't care. This was irrelevant. I just hoped the system would recognize it as a suitable projectile.

  Yes!

  The Minor Pocket Slingshot is loaded!

  Missile: a Beach Pebble

  Fit for Purpose: Yes

  Range: +0.1

  Rate of Fire: +0.1

  Precision: +0.1

  Damage: +3.6 ... +4.8

  Good enough. At this close range, neither Precision nor Rate of Fire really mattered.

  I pulled the sling taut.

  The Stomper lay on the sand with his eyes closed, his body convulsing faster.

  Time to do it.

  The sling made its popping sound.

  The system showered me with an avalanche of messages, congratulating me on my new levels, Rewards and Achievements.

  I didn't bother to read through them. I just wasn't in the mood. "You're free now, buddy."

  Mechanically I accepted whatever loot I was due.

  I might have spent some time moping about. Still, Mirror World isn't the right place for this sort of nonsense.

  Boris behind me emitted a threatening hiss. I swung round.

  The last thing I noticed before the lights went out was a pair of murky fish eyes.

  Chapter Four

  The lights came back on rather quickly. I must have been unconscious for a few seconds at the most. Still, this had been enough to realize I'd just died my first virtual death.

  What did I feel? Nothing, really. I hadn't even had the time to get properly scared.

  Where was I now? The gloomy beach was nowhere to be seen. Judging by the walls of rock towering around me and the stalactites hanging from the ceiling, I must have been inside a small cave.

  A crystal altar rose at its center. A bright blue flame burned bright inside it, illuminating the insides of the cave.