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

by Alexey Osadchuk

  That was the extent of it. Having said that, this was only the beginning.

  My first opponent had died too quickly. It's true that the memory of his dead stare still gave me goosebumps but I'd admittedly expected something bigger. Even crabs had lasted longer. This skeleton must have been the developers' way of saying hello.

  We crossed the inner yard without further ado. Finally we entered the corridor leading to the gym. It was considerably lighter here. Which I suppose was good news.

  Long-expired torches lined the walls. Cobwebs everywhere. The floor was littered with human bones and the omnipresent heaps of rotting leaves.

  Nothing useful here.

  The corridor took a slight curve. There I noticed a familiar heap of rags and other junk.

  Another skeleton. No: two of them. They began moving in our direction, both just as slow as the first one.

  "Boris — attack!"

  He went for them head-on, scattering them like a bunch of bowling pins. By the time they had scrambled back to their feet and turned to face their attacker, I'd shot them calmly in the back. Boris had dealt them so much damage that I ran no risk of pulling aggro to myself. Which was exactly what we needed. Neither skeleton survived his second attack.

  I checked whatever meager loot they had to offer.

  Judging by the slowly disappearing scraps of military fatigues, these too used to be archers. They must have been the first to confront the undead attackers — only to add to the Lich's zombie army.

  You've received:

  A Rusty Dagger, 1

  A Copper Ring, 1

  Arrowheads, 2

  Aha. My first close-combat weapon. The dagger's hilt was made of a rough piece of wood. Honestly, it looked like a kitchen knife — but it lay nicely in the hand. Its blunt leaf-shaped blade was encrusted with brown rust. Judging by all the notches and the porousness of the metal, its quality left much to be desired. Its Durability was a meager 7 points. Damage, however, was quite decent: 12 pt. In any case, now I had something to defend myself with if needs be.

  The second copper ring added another 3 pt. to my Speed.

  Loot was loot. Even if it would cost nothing at auction, at the moment every extra point to my stats was more than welcome.

  We moved on.

  The corridor seemed to go on forever. Another thirty feet, and more familiar outlines appeared from around the bend.

  Two skeletons. No, not two... dammit! Four of the wretched things!

  They walked toward me, swaying and shuffling their feet. Also archers. The last one held an intact bow in his left hand. This guy was our priority.

  "Boris, we need to be careful. These guys are quite alert. And there's a whole lot of them."

  We were going to repeat the already-tested scheme, adjusting it to suit the opponents' numbers. Boris would deal the first hit and move ahead in order to make the enemy turn their backs to us.

  I cast a quick glance at my two pets.

  Just look at those predators! Their eyes glowed with excitement, their fur bristling, their tails swishing impatiently.

  "Now!"

  Boris leapt forward, knocking down two of the undead and sending a third one flying against the wall in one powerful sweep of his paw. The remaining archer slowly raised his bow. Luckily, it was just another stage prop — I could see neither arrows nor a quiver on him.

  With a dull pop a pebble hit his right eye socket, razing half his skull.

  You've dealt a critical hit!

  I didn't expect what happened next. All right, so I was an idiot. I'd pulled aggro to myself, hadn't I?

  I'd managed to strip him of some Health but that was way not enough. Boris in front was doing his best to distract the rest of the group. If I told him to come back, he'd bring them all to me.

  Unexpectedly the archer began to walk faster. Not too fast, but he was definitely speedier than his buddies.

  I promptly retreated. "You stay out of it," I told Prankster. "Only heal me if my Life drops to 70%."

  70% was precarious enough. I didn't have much Life as it was.

  My virtual heart was thumping, rapidly losing Energy.

  What a stupid, unforgivable blunder!

  Disregarding the pebbles, I reached for the first bead and lay it into the sling. Time to give it my all.

  The sling popped. Another crit! Still not enough. The dead archer kept coming on to me. Darkness glowed in his only remaining eye, burning a hole in me. No good me lying to you: I was scared.

  Mechanically I stepped back again, all the while realizing that the more I retreated the less damage I'd deal. But I just couldn't overcome my fear. Damn those game developers!

  I took aim and released the sling. With the sound of crunching bone, the bead sank into his left shoulder, sending his bow-wielding arm flying through the air. Despite the loss, he kept coming. Was it my imagination or was his black glare glowing with ever more spite?

  Somewhere in the dark in front of me, I could hear the snapping of bones and Boris' growling. It looked like he was busy right now.

  Prankster hissed and hugged the ground.

  "Don't even think of it," I told him, pulling the sling again. If I retreated any further, this battle would take ages.

  I had to get a grip. These were only bits of program code. Believable artwork, nothing more. Nothing to fear. No need to retreat.

  The distance between us kept shrinking. As if realizing I wasn't trying to run anymore, the archer walked ever faster.

  Eight paces left.

  Six.

  Four.

  I released the sling.

  I hit him on the collarbone. Another crit sent his Life into the red.

  The hit was so powerful it swung him around, giving me time to fire again.

  You've killed a level-12 Walking Skeleton!

  My legs were shaking. My pulse was racing. I'd made it! With my miserable Life reading, the skeleton could have smoked me with one blow, sending me back to my resurrection point.

  I'd have loved to have taken a short breather but I couldn't. I had to help Boris.

  I ran around the bend and stopped. What a relief. Two of the skeletons were already vanishing into nothing while the third one was lying with his belly on the floor, struggling, while Boris sat astride him, methodically taking his victim apart bone by bone.

  Soon he was trotting toward me, looking terribly pleased with himself.

  "What took you so long?" I joked, then slid down the wall. "Enough. Time to take a break."

  Chapter Ten

  Dmitry had been right. Fighting even the weakest of skeletons was a huge learning curve compared to smoking Crab Island mobs. I'd learned more about combat tactics within an hour that I had in forty-eight hours of farming crab meat.

  If I'd thought that I'd provided for any eventuality, I'd have been sadly mistaken. The gameplay gave me a good shaking as if I were a guilty puppy. I'd shot too soon, pulled aggro to myself and very nearly kicked the bucket as a result. My plan had been good; problem was, the big strategist who'd authored it had made a complete ass of himself. It was a good job those skeletons were weak and awkward: had my first opponents been faster or higher in levels, I'd have been unlikely to escape with my life.

  Never mind. Lesson learned. Shame about the beads' precious Durability, though. Wasting them so stupidly!

  Now, the loot.

  My skeleton had left, apart from the memories of our unforgettable encounter, only a bundle of bowstrings. Boris' opponents proved to be more generous.

  You've received:

  An Old Bracer, 1

  A Copper Bracelet, 1

  Arrowheads, 5

  A Ragged Hood of an Archer, 1

  No idea how other players might have reacted to this kind of loot, but in my situation it felt like Christmas.

  Excited as a child, I picked the items up one by one, looking them over. I might have looked like a tramp who'd been rummaging through the local garbage dump, but this was my very own little
victory.

  This was what I liked about Mirror World. Everything here had a reason. In the real world, a rag was a rag; here, this tattered "Hood of an Archer" gave me +2 to Health. The bracer, this moldy piece of leather protecting my forearm from the chafing of the bowstring, added +5 to Protection while the oxidized strip of copper they had the audacity to call a "bracelet" boasted +2 to Stamina. Things were definitely looking up.

  My possessions were growing while also improving my stats. This was a far cry from my Reflection kit but after all, this was only the beginning.

  I put my new items on and sprang to my feet. The extra 40 Energy inspired me to battle on. My pets' eyes were laughing. I looked a sight, I had to agree.

  Off we go, then! Big deeds await us!

  Yet another bend finally took us out to the exit. I could see more staggering silhouettes in the light of the doorway. The last Rubicon. Beyond it lay the gym.

  "Stay cool, guys," I whispered. "We're in no hurry."

  The place was taken up by piled-up barrels, crates and pieces of crude furniture the Fort's defenders must have used to barricade themselves with. Judging by all the heaps of bones, skulls and rotting scraps of military gear, this "Rubicon" had cost the invaders dearly.

  So much stuff! Unfortunately, these too were stage props. Nothing I could use.

  I ducked in and began moving in short sprints from one pile to the next toward the doorway. My pets followed noiselessly.

  I stopped next to a towering pile of boards which must have once been a farm wagon. It provided a perfect shelter from the undead ambling aimlessly in front of it.

  Only two of them. Barely a mouthful for my Boris. Still, the doorway opened into the gym. The sounds of the melee were almost sure to attract more zombies.

  Which meant we had to repeat our Diadem Serpent tactics.

  I waited until the two zombies parted ways, then signaled to Prankster. He darted toward the nearest skeleton, sank his teeth into his bony leg, then dashed back to us.

  Just as I expected, the other skeleton continued sashaying toward the opposite wall without aggroing us. The moment he approached our makeshift barricade, Boris left him no chance.

  You've received:

  A Torn Boot, 1

  A Rusty Hammer, 1

  He must have been a builder or something. The system identified the hammer as a statless tool with 12 Durability. The Boot, however, offered +2 to Stamina, thus adding another 40 to my Energy stocks.

  I tossed the hammer into my bag anyway. Waste not, want not. After a short deliberation, I also pulled the boot onto my left foot. I must have looked a sight but strangely I wasn't uncomfortable. Both Boris and Prankster curiously studied my big toe peeking out of the hole.

  I shrugged. "So what? At least it can breathe," then turned to Prankster, "You'd better go get us the other one."

  He sniffed, as if laughing, and disappeared over the barricade. The next moment he was already back, sitting on top of the tallest pile of junk as if saying, "Here's your delivery!"

  This second victory garnered us a statless Lash and a Rope Belt with +3 to Stamina. That made 10!

  Judging by the items, we must have released the soul of the wagon owner.

  I put on the belt — which proved to be a length of ordinary rope — and headed for the gym doorway.

  A weird noise was coming from behind it. I took a few more steps and peeked cautiously in.

  My heart pounded, throbbing hard in my temples. This couldn't be. At least a hundred! This was a whole army!

  The forums had warned, of course, that zombies were "numerous", but this! It looked like I'd be stuck here for a while.

  Right, Olgerd, quit playing the drama queen. You'd better start thinking about how to get out of this mess.

  I peeked out again, more daringly this time. There seemed to be no zombies next to the doorway which allowed me to take stock of the situation in my own time.

  So, what did we have? A gym, about the size of three basketball pitches. The ceiling was high but not high enough for Boris to be able to fly freely.

  I shouldn't forget that he could also scale walls: our last trump card in case the going got really tough.

  The exit from the gym was located in the opposite wall: a huge door with a padlock. If forums were to be believed, it was guarded by a Ghoul — the first instance boss on our way. The name said it all. By killing him, a player received, on top of the usual loot, also the key to the padlock.

  How interesting. All forum members agreed that he was the worst mob in the whole Fort, all thanks to some very tricky ability he seemed to have.

  The ability's name was rather unpretentious: Sacrifice.

  This is how it worked. Once activated, whenever the Ghoul was in danger, all the nearby skeletons and zombies hurried to his aid. As soon as the Ghoul's Life dropped to 50%, some of the zombies sacrificed themselves, healing him back to 100%. And seeing as there were over a hundred of them here, I had no illusions about the battle's outcome.

  I quickly disregarded the idea of scaling the walls on Boris' back in order to promptly get to the exit and smoke him. This Ghoul just had too much Life. And I couldn't just get to the door: I needed the key to open it.

  Which brought me back to Plan A: mop up the whole room by pulling zombies in ones and twos, and only then tackle the Ghoul himself.

  I had my work cut out for me, didn't I?

  The gym was divided into four sectors. I was in the first one, the nearest to the doorway. It resembled a riding ring — which it probably once had been.

  Two more sectors ran parallel to each other, crowded with what looked like gym equipment and practice dummies.

  Finally, the fourth sector was the smallest and the most dangerous one: a small corridor opposite, leading to the door and the Ghoul who guarded it.

  Judging by all this, I had to admit that this creation of Zeddekey didn't at all look like an insignificant fortification on a God-forsaken island. Some of the richest land owners in Mirror World would have paid a lot of money for the right to own a stronghold like this. I had the impression that the game management had their own far-reaching plans for this location.

  Let's start with the riding ring, then.

  I surmised that the major part of the Ghoul's army was located there. They were the most numerous but luckily also the weakest. It consisted mainly of walking skeletons who must have once been the Fort's defenders.

  "Your turn, Prankie," I whispered, stepping back toward the barricade.

  Keeping in the shadows, Prankster darted toward the nearest group of two zombies who stood slightly aside from the rest. Judging by the broom and spade they were holding, they must once have been the local janitors. Had I not known I was inside a zombie fortress, I might have thought they were having a smoke break, talking unhurriedly. All that was missing was whiffs of cigarette smoke and the bored shuffling of feet.

  Then they aggroed Prankie, shattering my mental image. Instead of friendly janitors, two decomposed corpses staggered toward me, contorting their gnarly bodies.

  As soon as they approached the barricade, Boris attacked them. Soon I was already picking up the scarce loot. Both the broom and the spade were statless tools with very low Durability. The sheer numbers of undead workers must have been the developers' gift to new players planning to level up certain professions. I wouldn't be surprised if I came across a fellow Digger soon.

  But a broom and spade? Even a hoarder like myself didn't need them. Then again, I had enough spare slots in my bag. In they go. The sweeper's canvas pants and the digger's dirty boot were a welcome gift, however: together they brought my Stamina up another 6 pt.

  "Prankie, now bring us those three guys over there. We have a lot of work to do..."

  Chapter Eleven

  Congratulations! You've received a new level!

  Current level: 17

  Reward: +1 to Knowledge

  Current Knowledge: 60/60

  Finally! I could take a breather now.
This had been the last skeleton group. I'd done three of the gym's sectors. All I had left to do was cross the little corridor and kill the Ghoul.

  I slumped onto the gritty floor and closed my eyes. I'd been farming non-stop for a good part of nine hours.

  Skeletons, loot. Skeletons, loot. More skeletons...

  Actually, they hadn't been as numerous as I'd first thought. My fear must have tainted my judgment. I wasn't in the mood to open the logs but I must have smoked at least seventy or eighty.

  If this was only the first stage, then it looked like I was stuck here for quite a while. Naturally, when you do it with a group of five, it doesn't take as long. Still, my solitude had its fortes which might actually outweigh the drawbacks. I was already level 17 even before I took on the Ghoul. Besides, the loot was all mine to keep. It was mainly zombie cast-offs, I agree, but nothing I couldn't use in my situation.

  My earlier conjecture seemed to have been correct. Most of the skeletons had been workers of some kind. They'd dropped more tools than I could ever hope to use: I had fifteen or so hammers alone, plus several picks — of which I'd already chosen one for myself — and any number of spades, saws, hair combs, scissors, brooms, trowels, needles of every size, two fishing rods, several knives... my bag now looked as if I'd robbed a second-hand DIY store.

  Some items had only 5 pt. Durability. They were of lamentable quality: rusted and pretty dented, their wooden handles cracked. The only redeeming feature they had in my eyes was the fact that they had no Profession restrictions. Anyone could use them.

  Then again, was it really a redeeming feature? I somehow couldn't imagine a mine digger brandishing a pitchfork. Of which I already had three.

  I was toying with the idea of getting rid of it all. Still, I had plenty of place in my bag. Store is no sore.

  Some of the loot was good news. I finally got myself some clothes. It didn't matter that they were only good for the trash can: I wasn't wearing them for their style but rather for their contents: namely, their stats.