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

by Alexey Osadchuk

I had to give them their due: the place was cozy and well thought-out. The town walls were in excellent condition; powerful fortifications surrounded the clan's citadel. The streets were neat and clean. They even had a port although it still seemed to be a work in progress.

  Actually, they had a lot of building going on. The huge hangars by the port were definitely being erected there for a reason. Workers were busy clearing new building sites by the South gate. I wouldn't be surprised to soon see all sorts of little inns, shops and taverns there.

  I had a gut feeling that while the strongest clans were busy conquering No-Man's Lands, the Predators decided to stake a claim on Water World. Very soon all port cities would be packed with players in need of work, hotel rooms, customers and warehouses. I could see the Predators' point. I would have done the same thing.

  In the meantime, Balmy Bay was still a sleepy fishing village awaiting its transformation into a virtual Shanghai or Rotterdam. Which suited me just fine.

  My appearance was my biggest investment. This time I didn't even need to visit a barber. My Bronze account and my level 30 considerably simplified the process.

  So I ordered a new character template online and entered the town a new man. Or rather, a new dwarf.

  The stylists had really done their best. Apart from installing a new image, they also had the option of "dusting" your name tag. Now everyone who wanted to see my name would have to really strain their eyes. Even I struggled to do that. The letters of my name indeed looked "dusted" so you couldn't quite work out what they said. And considering the fact that I wasn't going to stand still, that should work out just fine.

  Admittedly, this was only a 2-hour buff and quite costly, too. Still, a couple of hours was plenty for my purposes. And as for the money... safety was much more precious.

  And so it happened that one fine day a black-bearded dwarf walked down the Balmy Bay's main street, looking totally part of the furniture. Just a dwarf like any other. They all looked the same, didn't they?

  First off, I had to sell the PKs' gear. It wouldn't cost much: all levels 20+ were already wearing Green items. Still, it was worth a try. I didn't want to get Rrhorgus involved: he still had to sort out all the loot from the little chests which I planned to open after checking out the market square.

  The marketplace was in the town center. It was a standard-issue location with two or three buildings forming a circle presided over by the town hall and a monument to some becloaked guy at the center. I stood too far away to make out his name on the pedestal.

  The market was quite neat, come to think of it. Stalls and stands formed orderly ranks separated by rather wide passages, allowing shoppers to walk comfortably without stepping on each other's toes. I could see a few Predator clan members patrolling the market, making sure order was maintained.

  I was beginning to seriously like this place.

  "Excuse me! Sir?"

  Were they addressing me?

  I turned round. That's right. A burly red-cheeked man was leaning out of a wide dark-brown stall, its counter overflowing with various tools, runes, bags and clothes.

  "Greetings, Sir!" the vendor began, squinting at my name tag.

  "Morning," I said, then hurried to add in order to distract him, "What can you surprise me with?"

  "Oh!" he immediately forgot all about my name and turned his attention to his goods, praising them to high heaven.

  I was stuck there for a good five minutes listening to his sales pitch. I even had to pretend I was interested in some Gray tools, asking him all sorts of pointless questions. I ended up promising I'd be back as soon as I sold my own stuff, just to acquire "that absolutely awesome bag over there".

  "You have stuff to sell?" he asked me.

  "Yeah. It's my nephew's actually," I showed him my trophies. "He asked me if I could sell all this stuff for him."

  He gave it an appraising look. "You need to see Mickey with this. He's over there in the next row. You can tell him I sent you. He'll sort you out."

  It didn't take me long to get there, considering I had to stop several times for polite exchanges with other vendors. You shouldn't ignore this kind of market ritual. The more people you see, the more you learn.

  Oh. This was quite a queue! Mickey was popular, wasn't he?

  As I waited in line, I had time to study his stall. Compared to the humble tents around it, this was a palace.

  A long wide counter was heaped with all sorts of things. Knives, swords, spears, scissors, shields, bags, hats; some unidentified bones, coils of rope and string in every possible size, not to mention all sorts of boxes, crates and sacks. A burly gnome presided over his treasures, sporting a cute Mickey name tag. He had a helper: an Alven salesman, tall and gaunt. What an odd pair.

  "Sir! How can I help you?"

  Oh, it was my turn already.

  Mickey stared at me calmly, making no attempt to read my tag. His gaze glowed with understanding. He must have seen tons of guys like me here. I liked his tact.

  "Morning," I said, pouring the PK's ex-property onto the counter. "What do you think of this?"

  He spent some time going through it, then concluded, "Seven hundred gold. Can't offer you more, sorry. Apart from this charm, there's nothing of much value here, really."

  Spitfire was full of surprises! And I used to think that Gloom's axes were the best bet. Lesson learned: never judge people by appearances.

  I decided against showing him my Fort loot. This gnome seemed a bit too shrewd for comfort.

  "Sounds good," I said. "It's a deal."

  Shame. The gear that Gloom had stolen from me was at least twice the price of all their stuff. Never mind, at least I'd ruffled their feathers a bit. It would take them a while to come round. The thought alone warmed my heart.

  "Agreed," he smiled to me.

  We shook hands. The money dropped into my account.

  "Anything here you think you might like?" Mickey asked.

  He'd beaten me to it. I'd been about to ask him the same thing. I pretended I was considering his question, then reached into my pocket for one of the few surviving beads. "You don't happen to have something like this, do you?"

  He glanced at my hand. "This looks like a slingshot slug. Used a lot by Dwand snipers. Wait a sec."

  He dove into his giant storeroom and reappeared with a leather pouch. "Here. There should be about thirty of them. All different sizes and different quality."

  "May I?"

  He nodded, "Be my guest."

  I loosened the knot and looked inside. Yes! He had all sorts there: beads made of steel, copper and stone, some round, others tear-shaped, a few spiky ones even. But most importantly, these weren't slapdash DIY jobs but purpose-made projectiles with Durability to match. Some of them seemed a little too large for my slingshot but most of them would work just fine.

  "Like it?" he asked.

  "Sure. I'll take them," I paused, then added, "Do you have any Intellect runes, by any chance?"

  He fell silent for a moment. "I don't think so. First time I hear about them. What class are they for? Actually, I shouldn't even ask. Too many classes these days, can't remember them all."

  "True."

  "I could sell you something for standard characteristics, if you want. It'll be cheaper than at auction. Would you like that?"

  I'd already ordered some combat runes. All I could use at the moment was a Green double set, so I'd chosen Stamina+Protection. I'd also been toying with the idea of installing the Purple Master Digger runes but they only boosted one stat, not two. So I'd decided against it and ordered some combat ones from Rrhorgus instead.

  The reason I'd asked him about Intellect was a hunch I had. The thing was, I'd found nothing about Intellect online. They had Wisdom, Concentration, Focus, but nothing about Intellect anywhere. Never mind. I might have to use all available points to level up Knowledge.

  "I'm all right, thanks," I said. "All I need is these beads."

  "Shame."

  "You don't by
any chance know a master who could make more of these for me?" I asked him as I shelled out.

  "Sure," the gnome replied. "Lance the Rightie is the best smith in the whole of Balmy Bay. His shop is in Green Lane. He'll be happy to see you."

  "Excellent," I shook his powerful hand. "Thank you."

  "Thank you," he replied cheerfully.

  As I left his stall, I thought I heard someone say my name. Or was it my imagination playing up?

  Green Lane was bathed in calm. It greeted me with a pleasant coolness. I wasn't used to warm weather anymore. This town was a bit on the hot side; still, I really didn't want to go back to rainier climes. Better sweat for a bit than get soaked to the bone.

  I had no problem finding Lance the Rightie's shop although it was strangely devoid of any noise. Not typical for a blacksmith. Normally, these kinds of workshops were situated on the outskirts or even beyond the city walls. Still, this was a game. It changed a lot of things.

  The massive steel-reinforced door opened with surprising ease. That was probably normal. You wouldn't expect a Master Blacksmith's door to creak or screech, would you?

  The moment I stepped inside and shut the door after me, I was overcome by the typical racket of rattling and clattering. Work in the smithy was in full swing. And outside you couldn't hear a thing!

  "Funny, eh?"

  I turned to the voice. A man stood in the doorway of the noisy room. He wasn't tall, but the span of his shoulders more than compensated for his lack in the height department. This was Lance the Rightie himself.

  "Actually, yeah," I admitted, looking around me.

  "It's my partner, he had the Veil of Silence installed," Rightie explained, his voice ringing with pride. "It costs a fortune but lasts a whole week. This way we can work right in the city center without upsetting the neighbors."

  "Good investment," I agreed.

  "Thanks. How can I help you?"

  I stepped toward him and opened the pouch of beads. "You think you could make something like this?"

  "What's it for? A sling?"

  "Not exactly. These four, for instance, are too big for my purposes."

  He nodded. "There're two ways of doing it."

  "Tell me."

  "Either standard issue or tailored to your weapon," he replied with an apparently prepared phrase. He must have said it many times before. He probably had a lot of slingers among his clients.

  "The second option, what does it require?" I asked.

  "Nothing serious. You show me your weapon, I take all the measurements, we agree on the price and I make them."

  "Deal," I reached into my pocket and produced the Minor Pocket Slingshot.

  For a second he froze. Not a trace of sarcasm in his eyes. He looked dead serious as if I'd just shown him something truly special. You could tell he was very meticulous in his approach. A real professional.

  I'd been lucky to come here.

  "Got it," Rightie's voice betrayed excitement. "I've taken all the measurements. I can offer you two types of projectiles. The things in the pouch you've just shown me, only four of those will actually do."

  "Oh really?" I produced one of those I'd made myself. "What can you say about this? Any good?"

  He gingerly took the tear-shaped bead. It looked like a speck of dust in his mitts. Still, despite their deceptive clumsiness, Rightie's fingers moved with remarkable dexterity.

  He chuckled. "It is and it isn't."

  "Oh," admittedly, I was surprised.

  "The item is still unfinished. The source material is atrocious. But the finish on it is actually quite decent. This is something a beginner Apprentice might have done. Did he use some sort of Durability-enhancing design?

  Oh wow. He'd looked right through it, hadn't he? Or was it his professional level that allowed him to see these sorts of things?

  "You're dead right there," I said. "He used whatever he had at hand. Adlibbed, basically."

  "Did it work?" he asked, curious.

  "Absolutely."

  "That's the main thing," he nodded his approval, then hurried to change the subject. "I can offer you two different types of shot: lighter ones that improve Accuracy and heavier ones with a bigger chance of a crit. It's up to you."

  "What about Durability?"

  "Both are 30."

  That was good news! "Excellent. I'd like two hundred of each, please."

  "I have something else, too," he added.

  "Yes?"

  "Burrs — I mean crit-boosting ones — my partner could cast a spell on them too. But there's a problem with them."

  "The price," I nodded my understanding.

  "Not only that. Charmed bullets — or tagged, as we call them — have no Durability."

  "Sounds logical. Do they explode on impact?"

  He chuckled. "On the contrary. My partner studied water magic. He can cast the Ice-Bound debuff onto your burrs. Very useful to fight large mobs with. You're gonna love it."

  "I already do. I'd like him to treat all two hundred of them."

  "Good," Rightie said, visibly relieved. Then he added in a shaky voice, "And one more thing... probably the most important..."

  "Really? You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

  "Yeah," his forehead erupted in beads of sweat. "When I studied your slingshot, I saw I could make a couple of improvements to it."

  I stared at him in disbelief.

  "You shouldn't be so surprised," he hurried to add. "That's my job. The system shows me what I can improve. Besides, if it's something new and unusual, a master can expect to receive various achievements or skill points. And in the case of your slingshot, I might also be able to create two unique blueprints."

  "Okay," I scratched my beard, contemplating his offer. "This is a decision and a half."

  His eyes glowed with hope. I had very little idea of what the creation of a unique blueprint might mean for the designer. But judging by Rightie's suddenly pale face, it was quite a lot.

  "Please, Sir Olgerd. Listen to what I have to say."

  I nearly jumped.

  "Yes, of course I know your name," he said soothingly. "We've been talking for quite a while. I had plenty of time to work out your name tag. You shouldn't worry. If you want to remain anonymous, my lips are sealed."

  That's why he'd kept dropping hints about "large mobs"!

  "I can offer you a deal," he went on. "I'll improve your weapon at no cost to you. Besides, I'm not going to charge you anything at all for any of the slugs, including the charmed ones. I might even throw in another hundred of each. What would you say to that?"

  Oh. Actually, what did I have to lose? Nothing. This was a win-win situation. I couldn't sense any catch here. I'd never have been able to pull off something like this myself. If I could, the system would have already told me so. Apparently, this wasn't within my Engineering Designer work remit.

  Very well. Let's make his day. "Sounds good. Just please make sure you don't tell anyone about me."

  "Absolutely not! I'll get to work straight away," he said cheerfully. "It'll only take ten minutes. Please grab a seat. We have some very comfortable chairs in the corner over there. Would you like something to drink?"

  "No, thank you. I'd like to sit down though."

  Rightie had told me the truth. Ten minutes later, he re-emerged from his shop with a victorious look, carrying two pouches and some bits of equipment.

  "Three hundred with Accuracy and three more Ice-Bound," he handed me the pouches.

  His face was lit up with a happy smile. His eyes glowed; his cheeks twitched with excitement.

  I smiled back. "It worked, by the looks of you."

  "You could say so! Take a look at this!"

  Two items lay on the table in front of me.

  Name: a Truss for a Minor Pocket Slingshot

  Effect: +15% to Accuracy

  Name: a Stabilizer for a Minor Pocket Slingshot

  Effect: +5% to Damage

  "Both items are Green," he explained. "This
is all I can do at the moment. Besides, I managed to make their blueprints too. Apparently, this weapon hasn't been around for long. It might actually be one of a kind."

  I had nothing to say to that.

  "But that's irrelevant," he flashed me another happy smile. "Reputation is key! The more blueprints a master makes, the bigger his Reputation! I'll be honest with you, these are the first blueprints I've ever made. So tonight I'm celebrating! I'm taking some of my friends and workmates to the Starfish tonight. You're invited!"

  "I'd love to, but... unfortunately, I have to go. I really appreciate your thinking about me."

  "As you wish," he lowered his head slightly. "Well, then! Let's put your wonder weapon together!"

  Congratulations! Your weapon has been improved!

  Once we were done with all the formalities, I headed for the exit. Rightie scurried along to see me out. He was already reaching for the door when he froze.

  That's weird. I felt a knot forming in my stomach.

  "You can't go there," he said, frowning. His voice was hoarse. His hands began to shake. "Who sent you here?"

  "Mickey," I said, beginning to realize what was going on.

  "It was him, then. He reported you to the Predators," Rightie said with a sad shake of his head. "One of their men has just contacted me. He asked questions about you. I'm very sorry."

  "Do you have a back door?"

  "Sure!" he nodded. "Follow me!"

  He hurried toward his workshop.

  He had a proper little factory back there! I counted three workers, each of whom had his own worktop. He even had a shop sweep! Rightie definitely planned to stay in game for the long term.

  "Over there," he pointed at a small door under the stairs. "Hurry up. I told them you'd left five minutes ago."

  "You shouldn't risk it."

  "Don't worry about me. They know better than to screw with me. This place isn't exactly paved with Experienced blacksmiths. Just one last piece of advice, if I may."

  "Please."

  "I don't think you realize how well-known your nickname is. Otherwise you wouldn't have showed up in a public place unprepared. I suggest you give it some thought. Good luck!"

  I nodded my gratitude, then ducked into the dark doorway. It opened into a side alley.