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

by Alexey Osadchuk

  Five.

  Come on, now! The scarab didn't seem to move. But I could see he was doing his best.

  Yes! He made it!

  Another ramming and a crit!

  The wizard's motionless body flew to the opposite wall like a rag doll.

  "And again! Don't let him recover!"

  As if! In one wave of the wizard's winged black arm, a powerful air current threw the scarab to our left.

  You've been cursed! Name of curse: Weakness.

  Effect: -30 to Damage

  You've been cursed! Name of curse: Exhaustion.

  Effect: -50 to Life every 10 sec

  Had I completed the Sarge's quest as I should have, I'd have received all sorts of useful goodies from local NPCs. Like Cleanse scrolls, for instance. Activating one of them could disable any debuff. Why did I always have to do it my own way?

  The scarab had recovered and was gaining speed again. Then suddenly his body swung round. The Lich reached his skeletal arms out in front of him, casting some nasty attack spells.

  My turn. My slingshot popped time and time again, sending a burst of three copper beads thudding into the wizard's head. I'd used the vials of Power with each shot. They were awesome. Had it not been for the debuff, the damage might have been truly impressive. I'd disrupted the wizard's spells but I'd also pulled the aggro to myself.

  "Prankie, prepare to heal me! Steely Guts, get him! Boris, stay where you are!"

  That was all I had time to do. A powerful blow to my chest sent me flying. I'd never been hit by a car but this was what I imagine it must feel like. For a split second, everything went black. This was apparently the Lich's minor spell: Arrow of Death.

  Minor, yeah right. Was it really? Those forum wizzies should have had their heads tested.

  Prankster's shield managed to absorb 20% damage. The rest was absorbed by my fragile virtual self.

  A warm healing wave flooded over my body: Prankster knew his job. I gulped an elixir, bringing my Life back into the green.

  I was ready for the Lich's next attack but he didn't make it. The scarab had gotten to him first, critting him with another ramming blow.

  I scrambled to my unsteady feet and staggered toward the scene of combat. The Lich's punch had been good. It had thrown me a good ten feet through the air.

  By the time I made it there, the tables had turned. The scarab was lying on his back, his legs wriggling awkwardly in the air. The Lich stood next to him, his staff enveloped in a dark haze. He raised it sharply in the air.

  "Boris, wait. He's casting Fury."

  The dark shadow escaped the staff's top. Ignoring a long and wordy system message, I hurried to gulp another Life elixir. I could see very well that the scarab had had it.

  The wizard turned his head to me, solemn and dignified. I could have bet my bottom dollar there was a triumphant smile lurking in the black depths of his hood.

  "This is it, mortal!"

  I winced. Not that hissing voice again. I was well and truly fed up with the guy.

  "Surrender, and your death will be quick. It won't hurt, I promise!"

  "Don't hold your breath," I shouted, then turned to Boris. "Now."

  An explosion shattered the room just as the wizard stepped toward me. That was powerful! I could feel the floor vibrate underfoot. The room's walls and columns quivered dangerously. The ceiling showered us with stone dust.

  The explosion sent the Lich flying — but immediately he was trying to scramble back to his feet. His Life was in the red. He was one die-hard sonovabitch.

  "Boris, go!" I shouted, hurrying to summon the second scarab.

  The Fix Box was 100% full. Clever provident Olgerd! I must have known one scarab wouldn't do it.

  Boris — who'd all this time been hanging upside down from a ceiling beam — dove down, squawking fiercely.

  The wounded wizard froze, statue-like. We only had ten seconds. Boris was already upon him, tearing him apart. The new scarab was level 12. His Protection was greater but he was too slow.

  "Move it, tin can!" I wheezed, gulping elixirs by the vial and purposefully ignoring the avalanche of system messages.

  Boris cried out in pain as the Lich began to recover.

  My heart clenched. My little Boris was hurting! I'd long stopped pretending this was a computer game. For me, it was all real now.

  I'd buried every single bead and pebble in the wizard before the scarab could even join in the fight. I now was empty. All I had left was close combat.

  "Everybody!" I yelled, whipping out my rusty dagger — the only weapon suitable for my class.

  Strangely enough, the scarab proved faster than me. He got to the wizard before I could, ramming him down.

  The last seconds of the fight barely registered, dreamlike. I think that me and my dagger had managed to get to the wizard a couple of times too. Luckily for us, he hadn't had the chance to use his last spell.

  Got him. Dead as a dodo. Over and out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I rubbed my sleepy eyes, forcing them open. Wake up, Olgerd! This wasn't the right moment to relax. Once I logged out, I could sleep all I wanted. Business first.

  I reopened all the unread system messages.

  As I studied them, my heart beat faster and harder. I hadn't expected this at all.

  You've killed the level 30 Cursed Wizard!

  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!

  Congratulations! You've received a new level!

  Current level: 29.

  Reward:

  A Teleportation Scroll

  +20 to Knowledge

  Current Knowledge: 56/90

  Congratulations! You've single-handedly defeated the Fort's Master!

  You've received a reward upgrade!

  New reward based on your character's class:

  The Helmet of a Fort Guardian

  The Charm of a Fort Guardian

  Quest Reward: a Charmed Key

  Congratulations! You've received Achievement: Liberator of the Cursed Wizard's Soul!

  Reward: +20% to your chances of avoiding magic attacks.

  Congratulations! You've received a Heroic Achievement: a Lone Zombie Slayer! Everybody already knows about your fearless deeds!

  Reward: the Order of the Zombie Slayer

  Congratulations! You've received a Heroic Achievement: A Lone Liberator of Captive Souls. Everybody already knows about your fearless deeds!

  Reward: a Scroll of Great Initiation

  Congratulations! You've received a Legendary Achievement: One Against Death. You're a legend!

  Reward: The Order of Heroic Strength

  My drowsiness was gone in a blink. I was shivering with excitement. The Blue kit paled in comparison with all these rewards and achievements.

  Having studied the rewards' descriptions, I cast a bewildered look around me. Was this really happening to me? In disbelief, I decided to double-check my acquisitions.

  All the rewards' icons were ruby red: the sign of their highest class.

  The Order of the Zombie Slayer gave -40% to any damage dealt by undead classes.

  The second Order, the Legendary one, gave +30% to Strength. But! This applied not only to me but also to any other players fighting alongside me. In other words, this turned me into a walking buff for any kind of raid or group I joined.

  As for the scroll, it came with a restriction: I first had to attain level 50 to use it. But that was nothing compared to its potential. By activating this seemingly useless scrap of paper, I received +2000 to any Reputation of my choice. And that was a good year's worth — probably more — of doing stupid pointless quests which would otherwise have cost me a lot of time and money. Such a shame it was non-transferable. I dreaded to even think how much it might have fetched at auction.

  Right. This much was clear. What next?


  Two more Blue items and a bonus key. Oh. I'd been 2% XP short of making level 30.

  Never mind. Another battle, and I'd be all kitted out.

  Now the charmed key was interesting. According to the description, it opened a "secret room". I looked around me.

  Aha. A narrow door had appeared in the opposite wall. I could have sworn it hadn't been there before.

  Bedazzled by all the Christmas presents — there was no other name for it, really — I'd failed to notice that the glowing icon of my only skill showed a number 2.

  I scrolled through the logs just to make sure I wasn't imagining it. Apparently, my summoning of the last scarab had raised Control as well. Yes! No-Man's Lands, just you wait!

  I cast another glance around the room just to be on the safe side and headed for the wizard's stash.

  The key turned smoothly and soundlessly. I got the impression the lock had been oiled regularly — weekly even. The narrow secret door opened inward. What kind of treasures might he keep here?

  Aha! I'd seen this before! A bejeweled box. No level restrictions, thank God for that. Just sitting there for anyone to open. Which was what I was going to do.

  Congratulations! You've opened a Box of Treasures!

  Contents:

  Cleanse scrolls, 10

  Antidote scrolls, 10

  Potion of Absolute Fury, 1

  Strength: High

  Excellent. I could read more about them later. Now it was time for us to leg it.

  I toyed with the idea of using the teleportation scroll but decided against it. I wanted to double-check my battle path. You never know, I might just find something else I could use.

  * * *

  Another hour of walking through the instance hadn't garnered anything. I'd poked my curious virtual nose into every nook and cranny I could think of: dark niches and stairs, touching and searching everything that looked even remotely promising. I'd even made Boris check out the ceiling.

  Nothing.

  Either I'd already found everything there'd been to find or I was ignoring something pretty obvious.

  "Never mind," I mumbled, studying the walls of the barbican. "We've done all we could. More, even."

  Heh! I could still see my bare footprints in the dust: my first step into the scary unknown.

  Funny, isn't it? It had only been a few days but I was a different man now. Had someone told me a few months ago that I might be stuck inside some computer toy chopping up the armies of the undead for a living, I'd have declared him totally crazy.

  As I'd walked, I'd sorted through the wizard's treasures. Admittedly they were quite useful. Take a Cleanse scroll, for instance: it could remove any nasty debuff. True, it came with a 30-minute cooldown but this wasn't much for top league battles.

  And as for the Potion of Fury... drinking it gave me +50 to Fury for 6 hours. I remembered Grryrsch telling me about it. Apparently, it also affected your chances of dealing an injury. This was a very peculiar thing tailored to damagers: players who'd chosen to level up Damage. Definitely indispensable for executioners... but pretty useless for me. It must have cost a lot though. I might have a chat with Rrhorgus. He must know these thingies' value better than I. But scrolls I might keep... I had a funny feeling they might come in handy one day.

  Right! Here we were, facing the Fort's exit. We'd done it. We'd actually done more than one could have ever imagined.

  I pulled out the teleportation scroll and unsummoned my pets. They promptly disappeared, leaving the scarab standing by my side.

  "Now what do I do with you? No idea! Just stay here by my side, okay? That way you might get ported with me."

  Silently the scarab stepped closer. I lay one hand onto his steel shell just to be sure and activated the scroll.

  Warning! In order to activate the scroll, you need to leave the instance first!

  Oh, great. Now we'd have to walk out into the rain. At least this way I knew these things didn't work inside instances.

  I walked through the Fort's gate and froze in disbelief.

  What the hell was going on? Both my chat and my inbox were flashing like crazy. The unread messages counter kept bleeping non-stop. Five hundred and growing! Was this some kind of spamming attack? Had I somehow managed to pick up a virus? Trust me to do that. What an embarrassment.

  I opened my inbox. Aha. Wish it were a virus!

  Our dear Sir Olgerd,

  I thought we had an agreement? What a shame. I believed you to be a man of sense. Now I'm afraid you might need to see some proof of our commitment to you.

  Tanor didn't mince words, did he? The carrot stage was apparently over. This was the stick. I was quite curious.

  I checked the chat too. The reason for all this turmoil lay in my heroic achievements, apparently reported all over the Glasshouse.

  Hello, fame. Just when I least needed you.

  I was about the check Uncle Vanya's last message when I heard,

  "There he is! Hi there, handsome! Since when can zombies leave the Fort?"

  Gloom himself stood cross-armed in the middle of the bridge, his fanged jaws stretched into a smug grin.

  "Check out his pet, chief."

  Aha, this was our Miss Spitfire. Last time I hadn't had the chance to see her. As Bonny to this virtual Clyde, I'd have thought she'd have looked somewhat different — probably an Alven girl with a modeling body and a stock anime-pretty face.

  I'd been wrong.

  She was rather short and mousy. Race: Human. A gray robe, staff in hand. First impression: a pious pilgrim. Her nickname was the most striking thing about her, warning anyone to steer clear of her despite her understated appearance.

  Her level was quite high, too: only one below me. She was probably Dark's second in the group. And where were Sting and Gray? Could they be stealthing toward me right now?

  Slowly I stepped back, giving way to my steely tank.

  "Now I see. That's how he managed to do the instance on his own," Spitfire said, curiously studying my scarab.

  You bet, girl. You don't know half of my secrets yet.

  As I thus got acquainted with the local criminal world, an idea struck me. Shouldn't I be grabbing my teleportation scroll? Or soaring up into the clouds astride my faithful Boris? I wasn't even scared, come to think of it. Even when I'd read Tanor's letter earlier, my heart had failed to miss a beat.

  What was happening to me?

  I remembered what Dmitry had said about me finally growing a set of teeth. This wasn't that. I didn't feel invincible, not at all. This was something else. I was simply looking at two players who didn't stand much chance against my little menagerie. Dmitry had been dead right there.

  Gloom wasn't even a tank. The worst newb could see that. All he had was two bone axes slung behind his back. His armor too was too light for heavy weapon combat. His race's high levels of Life must have allowed him to pull mobs' aggro to himself for a while, but he wouldn't last long in a decent scrap.

  Spitfire was a buffer. Her job was to cast spells supporting her allies and weakening her enemies. And if Gloom were left without her magic, then...

  I was definitely thinking in the right direction. Damagers weren't suitable for drawn-out fighting.

  The biggest problem in this situation was that I couldn't see the other two group members. And that was quite unsettling.

  "When I asked you to get yourself some new togs, I did mean new," Gloom guffawed. "What am I supposed to do with this Torn Boot?"

  Spitfire smirked, too. Her nickname actually suited her a lot. With her sharp face, prickly spiteful eyes and thin lips she looked like the epitome of an evil sorceress.

  What's with all the smooth talk? Why didn't they attack? Why hadn’t they immobilized me yet? Was I out of her spells' range?

  Hah! I was right, wasn't I? As Gloom tried to distract me in conversation, Spitfire kept inching toward me. Inconspicuously, like. Yeah, right.

  My scarab must have really upset their plans. Had it not been f
or him, Gloom would already have been on top of me while the sorceress would have cast her Air Web. But now they were forced to proceed with care.

  Besides, all the chat reports of my heroic exploits must have warned them I wasn't the gullible level-12 Digger they'd first met. Now they had to be doubly cautious.

  Spitfire's tense glare was filled with mistrust.

  But Gloom... talk about the unpredictable human factor. No wonder engineers feared it so much, doing their utmost best to prevent it in their designs.

  His beady little eyes betrayed careless disdain. He couldn't have been the one who'd suggested the "keep it clean" approach. He kept casting impatient eyes at his partner. If he could have had it his way, he'd have already attacked the ragamuffin newb that I was in his eyes.

  Which was a good thing. The more your enemy underestimated you, the better your chances against him.

  "And by the way," Gloom growled, "don't even think about activating your scroll, you idiot. Won't work. Give us all your loot nice and quiet and we might let you go back to your kindergarten. I'm not even going to take your zombie kit. I wouldn't touch it with a barge pole."

  He guffawed. Spitfire winced, apparently unhappy with his soliloquy. No wonder: he'd just offered me some important intel I wouldn't have otherwise known.

  They'd have loved to catch me with my pants down as I tried to activate the scroll. In combat, every second is priceless: they could have used it to cast the Air Web on the uncomprehending noob while I struggled through the system messages in search of the answer why I was still here and not a thousand miles away. End of story.

  Thanks for the warning, buddy!

  Spitfire watched my face closely for my reaction. She winced again, realizing I'd known nothing about this particular restriction.

  Funnily enough, her body language had just betrayed some even more important intel. They were here alone. The other two weren't with them. No stealthed cavalry coming. They would have long attacked me otherwise.

  "Everything's clear with you, guys," I whispered, pensive.