I wouldn't be surprised if the boss gave us the key willingly, just to get rid of us.
The hero of all the racket sashayed next to me, undisturbed. His long steely antennae twitched in a most peculiar way.
Neither Boris nor Prankster seemed to mind the noise. They stole forward, silent and watchful.
Finally, the corridor. Somewhere in its recesses the boss lay in waiting.
We stopped. The silence felt good! I'd only walked a few feet but I'd already started to miss it.
Warning! You're about to face Ghoul the Gym Boss!
This encounter might be too dangerous for players of your level!
Please turn back.
A moment later, as if in confirmation, the shadows parted, letting it out.
My voice broke as I whispered, "What a face!"
My two pets hissed their agreement.
The scarab didn't give a damn. He just stood there, motionless.
Very well, buddy. You go first. I activated the Ram Blow.
As the scarab rattled, accelerating, the Ghoul left the shadows, revealing himself to us in all his awesome glory.
Level 25. About ten feet tall. Broad-shouldered but stooping. His ape-like arms hung below his knees, giving the impression he was hunchbacked. Thin wispy hair framed a bald scalp, falling over his right eye. His left eye glowed with darkness. Green spittle dripped from his yellowed fangs. He was apparently anticipating a nice meal.
The scarab had already entered his aggro zone. He was only a few paces away from dealing the first blow. Finally the Ghoul registered the noise and reached out with his long arms.
"Come on, boy! Don't let us down!" I lay a copper bead into the slingshot's pouch.
The scarab complied. He rammed the ghoul's belly at full speed, critting him and stripping him of 300 pt. Life.
Surprisingly, the ghoul remained standing. Admittedly I'd expected my steely tank to sweep him off his feet but the Ghoul only staggered and stepped back.
Then he did something I hadn't expected at all. The ghoul scooped my scarab up in his powerful arms and sent him flying through the air.
Talk about strong.
The corridor echoed with the impact of metal against stone. The scarab lost 20% Durability. Uh oh. A few more knockdowns like that would finish him off, that's for sure.
Predictably, the scarab had pulled the aggro to himself. Growling, the ghoul staggered toward the heap of scrap metal writhing helplessly on the floor.
"Boris, your turn. Be careful. Make sure you don't aggro him."
His eagle eye glistening, the Hugger dashed forward. He would now attempt to peck him on the back, stripping him of Life point by an unhurried point without pulling the aggro to himself.
A 300 pt. crit was too good for words. I just loved my new skill.
"Don't you dare," I stopped the impatient Prankster. "Our job is to support the tank attack with intense gunfire."
Admittedly the damage from my slingshot was like a mosquito bite to him. But as the ancient Greek poet Choerilus of Samos had famously said, "Water can penetrate rock if its fall is incessant". Which was why, having used up my metal ammo, I switched back to beach pebbles.
It took the ghoul a good five minutes to work out how he could approach the scarab. Before that, he'd tried to pound him on his steel shell without dealing much damage. But now he repeated his first assault, sending the scarab flying along the corridor.
More rattling of steel. His Durability was now hovering at 15%.
But we'd put all this time to good use. Boris, with my humble assistance, had taken the shine off the ghoul's stats. His Life was in the red. We were winning. One last push!
The ghoul staggered toward the scarab and grabbed at his shell, jerking him into the air and lifting him over his head.
That was it, then. If my gut feeling was correct, we were about to lose a group member.
The ghoul confirmed my worst expectations. With a powerful thump against the ground, the scarab's Life plummeted to 1 pt.
Then several things happened at once.
Throwing caution to the wind, Boris landed a powerful blow — and a decent crit — on the ghoul's head. With a blood-curdling wail, the monster turned to face this new enemy — but failed to react promptly enough before the scarab's last skill activated.
An explosion shattered the corridor.
You've dealt a critical hit!
Damage dealt: 900
You've killed a level 25 Ghoul!
You've received Experience!
Congratulations! You've received a new level!
Congratulations! You've received a new level!
Congratulations! You've received a new level!
Current level: 20
Reward: +20 to Knowledge
Current Knowledge: 65/90.
Bonus points: 5
Available points: 10
Congratulations! You've single-handedly defeated the Fort's first Guardian!
You've received a reward upgrade!
New reward based on your character's class:
The Boots of a Fort Guardian
The Greaves of a Fort Guardian
Quest Reward: a Rune Key
Congratulations! You've received Achievement: Liberator of the Ghoul's Soul!
Reward: +5% to Energy Regeneration
I stared at all the messages in disbelief. My rise through levels was well-deserved and expected, considering that the system viewed me as a solo player. But two Blue-class items! No forum had ever mentioned it! And why should they? No one in their sane mind would walk around blabbing about these sorts of things.
I got me some new clothes!
I hurried to shed the two odd boots and reached for my new ones. Now...
We're sorry. Your level isn't high enough to use the item.
"What is it now?" I exclaimed. "How about the greaves?"
We're sorry. Your level isn't high enough to use the item.
"History repeats itself," I mumbled, swiping open the boots' description.
Name: The Boots of a Fort's Guardian
Class: Rare
Effect: +90 to Speed
Effect: +30 to Protection
Effect: +55 to Stamina
Effect: +55 to Health
Effect: +45 to Strength
Durability: 250/250
Restriction: Level 30
On collecting a full set, you will receive a bonus!
The greaves were more or less the same:
Name: The Greaves of a Fort Guardian
Class: Rare
Effect: +80 to Speed
Effect: +35 to Protection
Effect: +55 to Stamina
Effect: +55 to Health
Effect: +50 to Strength
Durability: 250/250
Restriction: level 30
On collecting a full set, you will receive a bonus!
If I understood the phrase "based on your character's class" correctly, the system's choice of characteristics targeted a shooter — definitely not a mechanic!
It must have been the slingshot. It had given me the false impression that an "army mechanic" was some kind of shooting class. The system must have made the same mistake. Now I could finally see the mechanic's fortes. The slingshot was just a useful extra to make sure the player had a weapon, however miserable.
Now I knew: my chars' main stats had to be Intellect and Stamina. Knowledge and Energy were my weapons. I also knew what I was going to invest all my available points into. No hurry, though. I could level up Stamina with runes and gear, but Intellect... I hadn't had a chance to look into it yet. I needed to study forums first. Then we'd see.
Wouldn't it have been nice to put on my new stuff! Still, according to Ecclesiastes, there was a time for everything. My time to gather stones hadn't yet arrived. I would make level 30 soon enough — and considering that normally Blue items were only available at level 70, I was lucky any way you looked at it.
Finally I noticed Prankster jumping
and leaping around me in celebration.
"How could I have forgotten about you! You have a new ability, don't you, Prankie? Come on, show it to us!"
He and Boris had earned two levels each. Both were level 16 now. We were growing!
Ability: Reflection I
Allows your pet to cast a spell repelling 20% of any physical or magical damage dealt to you.
Available points: 5
What an excellent ability. It worked similar to a magic shield, didn't it?
Seeing as Prankie was our buffer, we had to boost his Stamina first and foremost. 3 pt. would be plenty. His Life was quite important too, so I invested the remaining points into Health. His Life bar jumped up 20%.
Prankster was pleased. Just look at him! Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed — a sight for sore eyes!
Good. That was sorted. Now, scrap metal. We needed another scarab.
Chapter Fourteen
The Fix Box is 100% full!
Quality of source materials: 6.25%
Predictably so. Only 85% of the source materials were steel. I'd topped it up with scrap copper. At least now I knew that copper wasn't particularly welcome.
I'd done so for a reason. I still had enough scrap metal to make a third scarab with about 25% over. I was pretty sure that the last one would be a cut above the first. So I was saving him for the final battle.
Let's do it, then.
You've built the simplest mechanical creature: a level 7 Lame Scarab!
This one was one level lower. He was limping, too. What about his stats?
Name: a Lame Scarab
Level: 7
Technical stats:
Protection: 13
Speed: 1
Durability: 650/650
Frontal Antler Ram Blow: 120.
Other Damage: 11
Blast wave damage: 390 (range: 4 ft.)
Oh well. All the stats had plummeted. Apparently, Quality wasn't just an empty word here. The difference between the two source materials was less than 2% — but look how it had affected the whole picture! Never mind. The third one was going to be just fine.
Actually, was it so necessary to wait? What if the second scarab died in the very heat of the battle? Wouldn't it be better to fill the Fix Box beforehand?
Good idea. I should feed it the choicest morsels I had.
After a few minutes of fiddling with bits of scrap metal, this is what I had:
The Fix Box is 100% full!
Quality of source materials: 10.34%
Much better. No wonder: I'd used all the steel parts of all the hammers, picks, scythes and pitchforks — everything that had more than 5 pt. Durability. This last battle could be quite exhausting. My little army needed all the reinforcements I could summon.
I cast one last look around. "Right, are we finished here?"
I was about to put the key in the lock when my eye chanced upon a heap of old gray rags. Well, well, well. If this wasn't our first stash!
I walked over to it. Yes!
Congratulations! You've found the Ghoul's treasure!
Reward:
Life Elixir, 5
Vial of Power, 10
Energy Elixir, 5
Just what I needed! All the items were highlighted green!
Name: Life Elixir
Strength: Moderate
Effect: Restores 40% Life
Cooldown: 30 sec
The Energy ones were the same. But a Vial of Power... never seen anything like it before.
Name: a Vial of Power
Strength: Moderate
Effect: +40% to the force of the blow
One Vial is enough for one strike
How interesting. Let's just hope the sling shot counted as a strike. Another unpleasant surprise for the Lich.
Now I was definitely done here. Time to move on.
I sent Prankster the command to cast Reflection on me. In two turns of the key, the massive door creaked open.
"After you," I grumbled, letting the limping scarab in first.
The kitchen greeted us with silence. I could make out an occasional movement and noises somewhere out the back.
It wasn't a kitchen really — rather a mess hall. Plenty of space there. Long crudely made tables, lined with wooden benches. Judging by the large skewers heaped up by a huge fireplace, it must have been used to roast meat.
The place was a pigsty. The stone floor was covered in a thin layer of rotten straw spotted with dark blotches of red. Everywhere you turned, there was a layer of shattered kitchenware on the floor mixed with bones, pieces of tattered clothing and crude cutlery. Fat flies circled over heaps of what looked suspiciously like organic matter. I tried not to think what it could have been.
Slowly we walked to the room's center. Quiet wasn't the operative word: the new scarab made just as much noise as his predecessor.
The ceiling here wasn't as high as in the gym but it left plenty of leeway for Boris. I told him to get his bearings.
With two large hops, he reached the opposite wall. Hanging from the ceiling, he turned his eagle head this way and that, then froze, staring in the direction of the noise: apparently sensing the local inhabitants.
Outside, a thunderstorm raged. Framed by the windows, forked bolts of lightning illuminated the dark night sky. Can't say they boosted my morale. It felt like being cast in a horror movie. And this was only a newb instance in a starting location! I could only imagine what I'd have to deal with in No-Man's Lands.
We continued on our way, Boris walking the wall and ready to attack at a moment's notice.
One of the tables in front of us lay on its side. I could now hear the sounds very well. I'd heard them before in a hyena documentary: the crunching of bones and the tearing of dead flesh.
According to the forums, this part of the Fort was inhabited by rats who used to subsist on kitchen scraps. They must have switched to cooks themselves by now. The rats shouldn't be too numerous. The location boss was the Matriarch of the Pack. Not the most difficult of obstacles.
I took another step. The table was now about twenty feet away.
The munching and slurping stopped. Boris hissed, warning me we'd entered their aggro zone.
Something rustled behind the massive table. The next moment it flew effortlessly through the air. Holy mama mia!
So this was the designers' idea of a rat?
Each of the five monsters was the size of a bull terrier. One of them was even bigger: more like a mastiff. It must have been the Matriarch.
As the location boss, she was level 25. Her buddies were not too far off, level 22 each. Five pairs of black eyes focused threateningly on me.
Their jaws were covered in blood. No idea what they could have dined on. Better not to know. What had that ancient king said, "in much knowledge is much grief"? I couldn't agree more. I already had nightmares as it was.
The chief rat sized us up, then emitted a long hissing sound. Her soldiers clung to the ground, their muscular gray bodies circling us.
Aha. This mother of all rats had decided to surround us. She didn't seem to have any particular abilities compared to the others. Her hide was thicker and her hits were harder, that was the extent of it. Her high leadership skills were her only advantage. Rats fight in a pack, obeying their leader's every command.
The developers' purpose was clear: to allow players to confront a well-organized enemy. All those staggering skeletons didn't do much to improve one's combat skills. Not to even mention the crabs. Dmitry had been right: I was going to get in some excellent practice.
If forum gurus were to be believed, rat fighting tactics were directly the opposite of how I'd defeated the Ghoul. Trying to smoke the soldiers first wouldn't be the right thing. I had to start with their leader. The tank had to attack the Mother, pulling the pack's aggro to himself. Otherwise the pack leader would try to disperse the attackers, engaging all of them in battle and trying to first disable the least protected classes. In our case, that would be Prankster and m
yself. And judging by the rats' glaring viciously at me, they'd already made their choice.
"Dream on!" I yelled, then sent the scarab in.
He used the Ramming Blow to throw the Mother several feet into the air, pulling the pack's aggro to himself. An agonizing shriek assaulted my eardrums. A crit!
The chief rat had lost 250 pt. Life. Her buddies hurried to her rescue.
"Look at that one... she's lagging behind, isn't she? Boris, attack!"
He dropped onto the remaining rat, pinning her slimy gray body to the ground in his claws. His beak dug into her neck. For a moment, I even felt sorry for the poor thing — until it squirmed round and sank her crooked yellow teeth into Boris' paw.
He hissed with pain, momentarily releasing his grip. The monster struggled herself free and went for his throat — but I was ready!
My slingshot popped. The rat's head jerked as if she'd received a bullet. A crit!
Another shot to the head. Another crit.
That was enough for Boris to pin the disoriented monster back on the ground. His beak pierced the rat's gray flesh — in the throat this time. He ripped it open, letting out a cascade of hot blood.
One down.
I could feel my legs giving way under me. My throat suddenly seized. Dark circles swam before my eyes. I wasn't used to seeing these sorts of scenes.
Just keep it together, Olgerd. Inhale. Exhale. Like that... good. No point falling apart now. This was only the beginning.
And how about our tank? He was still braving it. Still, he was on his last legs. Rats couldn't whack him against the wall the way the Ghoul had done. They had other methods — which in a way were just as effective. When they'd failed to chew their way through his shell, they went for his legs. The chief rat had almost gnawed one off already.
"Don't you dare! He's lame as it is!" I shouted, shooting my slingshot non-stop.
I decided not to risk Boris for the moment. The sight of the rat's teeth sinking into the scarab's leg was a little too much for me. My heart clenched. I knew he was only part of the program code but this world had already become part of me — to the point where I viewed both Boris and Prankster as my family.
The Way of the Outcast (Mirror World Book #3) LitRPG series Page 13
