Warning! The object you have created is still unfinished!
Only fully finished objects can be replicated!
I grinned as I read the message out loud. This was just some sort of crazy Christmas!
Immediately I shut up and shrunk my head into my shoulders, looking warily around. The place seemed deserted. Right, Sir Olgerd, time to stop this nonsense and get your act together.
I just couldn't believe it! After all the trial and error I'd finally got a result!
I offered the remaining beads to the Replicator one after another, with the same result. The system recognized them all as objects built by me but as yet unfinished. How interesting. Having said that, I had indeed ruined the necklace. But if you looked at the matter from a different angle, both the beads and the piece of string had come about as a result of my manipulations with the necklace.
I brought the piece of string to the Replicator, just to double-check myself, and received the same message.
What did that imply? Firstly, now I could finally understand why the Replicator hadn't reacted to other objects in the past. And secondly, by destroying the necklace I'd apparently created something else, albeit "unfinished".
And what if... I rummaged through my bag for the murky Fragment of Blue Ice and offered it to the machine.
Warning! The object you have created is still unfinished!
Only fully finished objects can be replicated!
So it had recognized the Unworked Charm of Arakh, too! Why hadn't I tested it before? I simply hadn't had the time. First I'd met Tanor, then I'd had to talk to Max and his father Rrhorgus...
All I had to do now was decide how I could use this.
Voices sounded behind the hut's wall, distracting me from all the thoughts and theories galloping through my head. I hurried to shove everything back into my bag and shrank deeper into the bamboo wall.
There were two speakers. As I listened, I realized they were talking about me.
"Oh, do shut up," one of them growled. Judging by the sound, the speaker must have been very big. "He must be around here somewhere."
"And what if he isn't?" the other voice squeaked. "What did the Chief say? We're supposed to keep an eye on him at all times!"
"Chief my ass!" the other one boomed. "Who does he think he is?"
"Cool it, will ya?" the second one squeaked. "I don't give a damn about your drama queen antics. If you think you're so tough you can challenge him, be my guest. Just leave me out of it."
"All right, all right," the other one hurried to agree. "Quit blabbing."
"I'm not blabbing," the second one insisted. "You are. We have an agreement. We rob the noobs and get the hell outta here. Just look at that toon! He walked right into our hands. Did you see his gear? How much do you think his full Digger kit will fetch at auction? You don't know, do you? Not that you know a lot. The Chief knew what he was saying: invite him to join our group and level him up to 10, and then.... But you've lost him, haven't you?"
"How can you lose him?" the first one boomed. "He went to the smith to get himself an axe. Typical noob. If he's not there it means he's off to get a spade."
"All right," his partner squeaked. "Let's check the warehouse, then."
"Okay. It's better we take a shortcut through the woods. We'll get there quicker."
My heart was pounding fast and hard. Here you are, Sir Olgerd. Out of the frying pan into the fire. How typical.
I had no doubts they'd been talking about me. Who else might they have seen around here wearing "Digger's gear"? I should have actually taken a quick look at them. But never mind. Their voices were clue enough.
Talk about bad timing. Naturally, as long as I stayed in the village, no one was going to hurt me. Still, I wasn't looking forward to watching my back the whole time.
Change of plan, then. Time to leave the village and head into the depths of the island.
Chapter Six
I'd spent the last ten minutes lurking in the bushes watching the warehouse. I'd decided to catch a glimpse of the robbers. You should always know who you're dealing with.
The warehouse was the only structure in the whole village that you could actually call a "building". In sharp contrast with all the village huts, it had a tiled roof and stone walls lined with tiny barred windows.
I noticed my pursuers hovering a dozen paces from the entrance. Now why wasn't I surprised?
A Rhoggh and a Forest Dwand.
Both levels 20+: monstrous for this newb location. They should be on the continent playing with all the big boys but they were still stuck here — and I even knew why.
Interestingly, both had green tags. Whoever their Chief was, he paid good attention to detail.
So let's presume these two worked as a newb trap: cool guys in expensive gear who apparently knew the islands like the palms of their hands. They would think nothing of rushing a newb to level 10. Which was when players lost their immunity, becoming easy prey for PKs.
I doubted those two were PKs though. More than likely, both would be offline at the time of the actual killings. There must have been others, more suitable for the task.
Naturally, the owners of humble starting gear kits had nothing to worry about. But players like myself should start taking their safety seriously. My gear would go for at least a grand at any auction. Which was a lot of money.
The worst thing about it was, it was all strictly within the rules. If later I filed a complaint, the muggers would be put on the wanted list. That wouldn't make their names any redder than they already were. Even if they happened to run into the NPC police, it might not happen any time soon. After that, I'd be eligible for compensation, sure, but retrieving my stuff might already be a problem — and as for being reimbursed, the police fees might make a nice hole in any reimbursement payments. They wouldn't catch the felons for nothing. So basically, it was damned if you do and damned if you don't.
There were other reimbursement scenarios, though.
One of the most effective ones was through the hiring of an extorter from the better Fury-endowed players. A mercenary like that could teach the muggers a good lesson and retrieve some of your stuff in the process. Problem was, an extorter's fee was twenty percent of the articles stolen.
I didn't mind paying at all. The very fact that the extorter would bring justice to my enemies and get a lot of my money back was good news. That wasn't the problem.
The problem was, a professional-level extorter wouldn't take on a petty case (like mine undoubtedly was). Their job involved huge risks with the expenses to match. Besides, all extorters were already on every PK's black lists. Many enemies meant many problems: if they chose to take the risk, they had to make it worth their while.
For a moment, I even considered the crazy idea of allowing them to rush me to level 10. I promptly dismissed it though. Firstly, I was quite capable of making level 10 myself. This wasn't brain surgery.
Secondly, my little menagerie had to grow too. And to do that, they had to participate in combat. This was something that all forums were unanimous about. And as I wasn't really going to tell anyone about my beasties, joining groups wouldn't be a clever thing to do.
And thirdly and lastly, I just didn't want to get involved.
Right, enough admiring my noble thieves. I had to be on my way. I still had my Plan B to consider. Time was an issue: I had to think on my feet.
I was about to beat an inconspicuous retreat when the warehouse door opened, letting out a new player.
Judging by the funny hat and a staff in his hand, he must have been a wizard. Level 2. Interestingly, he was also an ex-Grinder. Profession: Fisherman. Even from where I stood, I could see the distinctive embroidered ribbons covering his clothes. He must have spared no expense on boosting his gear.
The greedy mugs of my new "friends" were about to explode with glee. No wonder: a new prey was literally walking into their hands. The Dwand stepped forward and said something to the newcomer. Shame I couldn't hear a word,
but judging by the wizzy's sincere smile, he'd swallowed their story hook, line and sinker.
What followed next was a carbon copy of what should have befallen me. They began their spiel. The Rhoggh stuck out his chest as in, I'm one tough guy, as the Dwand kept talking, trying to pull the wool over the wizzy's ears. The wizard enthusiastically nodding his agreement. He probably thought how lucky he'd been to have met two top players in these backwaters. He was probably already counting his future levels.
Very nice, Olgerd. It was all well and good for me to sneer at him from the safety of the bushes. Had I not been lucky enough to overhear their earlier conversation, I too might have been celebrating their offer of "friendship".
I really should warn him, but not straight away. He might not even need my advice. An ex-Grinder, he was no spring chicken himself. It wasn't for nothing he'd chosen this location. Still, I should speak to him at the first opportunity, even if for my own peace of mind.
Time to log out, then. Much as I'd have loved to stay here a bit longer, I had to reconsider my initial plan. Besides, I had another hour and a half until Boris and Prankster's reappearance. Just enough time to do a bit of research.
I pressed Exit.
A flash blinded my eyes. I was back in the real world.
A SMILING MODULE CONTROLLER offered me my glasses. "Welcome back, Oleg! Feeling okay?"
"Actually..." I sat up on the edge of the capsule and glanced at his name tag, "Sergei, I'm fine, thanks. Surprisingly so."
"Excellent," he helped me to my feet. "It didn't take you long today. They warned me about your love of extended immersion sessions."
Yeah, right! I just love to hate them.
I chose not to answer. Instead, I said meaningfully, "Something has come up. I had to log out."
"I see," he said, peering at the computer screen. "Would you like someone to accompany you to your room?"
I hurried to wave his suggestion away. "No need to. I can make it on my own. You can keep the capsule running, by the way. I'll need it tonight."
"That's fine. The capsule is at your disposal 24/7," he assured me. "Going on an early-morning fishing trip?"
I sniggered. "Something like that."
My temporary abode was quiet and peaceful. I closed the door and hurried to the desk to boot up the computer. Then I headed to the bathroom for a nice long contrast shower.
After a quarter of an hour, I returned to my room fresh as a daisy. Now I could work.
I slumped into the chair and opened the email. What had we got here...
Another letter from Weigner. He must already be regretting ever signing me up. The Steel Shirts' leaders were good at applying pressure on their representatives. He needed to know when I was going to log in.
Uncle Vanya's message was typically brief,
WTF are you?
Rrhorgus wrote to let me know that all was quiet on the Western front. Apparently, no one was following him anymore. Tanor was probably thinking he had me in his pocket. Which was good news, I suppose.
Oh. My freshly-made friend had already sent me a message too. Let's have a look.
Hi Olgerd,
Sorry I completely forgot I'd promised you some useful links about the location. Here they are,
See ya,
Dreadlock
Oh well. I might have a look at them later. I had more pressing issues just now.
I didn't even notice the three hours of research fly past. Had it not been for my stiff neck and strained eyes, I might have stayed glued to the screen until the morning.
Grunting like an old man, I slumped back in the chair. My stomach promptly reminded me it was high time we had something to eat.
"All right, all right... I'm finished."
I'd promised both Sveta and Dmitry to take good care of myself: eating well, getting enough sleep and all that.
The local diner was one floor below. Still, on Dmitry's suggestion I had my meals delivered to my room. It was apparently common practice here. All you had to do was download the galley's app, tick the dishes you liked and place the order. Easy.
I opened it. What did they have for today?
A salad, a fish course and a bottle of water: excellent. Enough to quench your hunger but not too heavy on the stomach.
They brought my food in on a compartmentalized tray like those used in European clinics. Plastic cutlery, a damp napkin, everything vacuum sealed: space-saving, convenient and most importantly, cost-effective. It actually tasted good.
As I ate, I reread an old message in a forum discussion about what they called "item altering".
You can safely alter an item provided you're not a Grinder. Please note that the item has to be already hacked. You can't use a brand new one to do so.
Who would need that, might you ask?
Well, I do.
Let me explain. Let's presume I managed to lay my hands on a nice juicy thingy like an uber shield or a Jedi sword.
Imagine the thrill.
So I use this sword to chop down my enemies left, right and center. Time goes by and I start to realize it's losing its durability. And I already installed some real expensive runes on my favorite hole-puncher and had a wizzy cast a spell or two on it.
Shame, isn't it? It's all right if you've already outgrown the item and can sell it off at auction for a nice profit. But what if it's about to give up the ghost? Or even non-transferable? Are you still with me?
What's the point, might you ask. You can't get back the money you paid for it, anyway.
You're dead right there. But.
Let me counter your question with a question (for those who're yet to crawl out of their little holes). Which is a better choice: to mindlessly discard the item or fleece it for whatever it's worth even if it's only raw materials?
And while you're trying to come up with an answer, here's more food for thought. I personally saw a clanmate hack his shield and retrieve a few runes...
His report was followed by a flood of questions — mainly about the identity of his clanmate and the number of runes he'd salvaged. Quite a few commenters doubted the feasibility of his idea until luckier owners of altered items added their own evidence to the discussion.
How interesting. Apparently, game developers had thus tried to take the sting out of any potential loss of items, adding a consolation bonus of sorts. Which was good news.
I was about to reread the forum threads I'd already perused when my timer went off. That was it, then. Back into the capsule I go.
MIRROR WORLD MET ME with an evening twilight doused in a light shower. That was all right. Could have been much worse.
The warehouse yard was empty. The muggers had definitely chosen the wizzy. What a shame. I should really warn him at the first opportunity.
I decided against approaching the warehouse. Call me paranoid if you want. What if there was somebody lurking in the bushes waiting for me to come back? Oh no, sir, thank you very much. I might return in a couple of days or so.
But now my path lay in the opposite direction. I had to visit the third island.
Judging by the meager info I'd pieced together from different online sources, this patch of firm ground was arguably the least popular location of all the Nameless Isles. Which was exactly what I wanted.
The further away from the village I got, the warier I grew, casting cautious glances around me. I didn't need any problems here.
Finally I walked out into a small forest glade and listened hard. Silence. Nothing suspicious anywhere. It seemed all right. I could summon Boris now.
He materialized at my right side and immediately began swinging his eagle's head this way and that, searching out a potential enemy.
"It's all right, kiddo," I gave him a loving slap on the back of his neck. "There's no one here. We're going to boost you up a bit now."
I hurried to open his stats menu. I had five available points. Unhesitatingly I invested them into his Health. "Your Stamina is fine but you could use a bit of extra resiliency
."
His Life bar grew fifty points. "I feel much better already," I told him. "Now, your friend!"
Prankster appeared instantly as was his habit. While he was prancing around the bushes, I distributed his bonus points. In stark contrast to Boris, his own Stamina glowed a big zero.
"You can continue feeding on my Energy until you level up a bit," I said. "So your Energy regeneration rate isn't that important. Your Health is, though."
That was me done pet-wise. Prankster now had 70 pt. Health compared to Boris' 250. Time to get going.
The sky was starless, the moon hiding behind the rain clouds. Perfect flying conditions.
In three powerful wingbeats, Boris took us high above the forest. Two more, and we were safely tucked away amid the black clouds. Ten minutes later, guided by my satnav, we were already landing on the rocky beach of the third island.
As soon as we touched down a few feet away from the waterline, I bent over to pick up some good pebbles for my slingshot. This was another reason I'd chosen the third island — there was plenty of ammo lying around.
I poured a handful of small round rocks into my belt pouch. They only took up one slot. I scrambled back to my feet and looked around, studying the beach. "Excellent. Just what the doctor ordered."
The whole island was the size of a football pitch covered in sparse undergrowth. No cliffs or tall trees: the visibility was excellent any which way you turned. Besides, it was a good ten-minutes' swim from the nearest island. Hopefully, no one was going to disturb us here.
The only thing I knew about this particular location was that it made up a minor part of the main quest chain, obliging you to visit the island and explore it. One of a gazillion pointless little quests dished out by the Glasshouse's NPCs. I just hoped that everything worked out as I planned.
Personally, I couldn't care less about those quests. My plans had suffered a dramatic overhaul. My initial idea of leveling up by buddying up with NPCs had already outlived its sell-by date, courtesy of the local PKs.
The Way of the Outcast (Mirror World Book #3) LitRPG series Page 7
