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

by Alexey Osadchuk

  "Excellent, thanks! It must have cost you a lot."

  "Don't mention it," he waved my words away in an old man's gesture. "We'll work it out. Don't you know how medieval merchants used to send their younger sons to war? They'd club together to buy them some armor, weapons and stuff. Give them some food and a bit of money. Hire an old experienced merc to keep an eye on them. And off they went to pillage and plunder, followed by a wagon train to bring all the loot back home."

  "You've got some sick imagination! So that's what you think I am, a plunderer?"

  "Why not?" his left eyebrow shot up in a mocking surprise. "Can't you see the similarities here? You could be my son. Okay, maybe not a younger one."

  I chuckled. "All we need to do is get a wagon train to follow in my wake. Problem is, where I'm about to go, they'd be gobbled up wholesale: drivers, carts and the loot, right down to the last wagon wheel. As easy as that."

  "That reminds me," he said in mocking seriousness. "My Granddad used to say to me, 'You'll do it, sonny boy! A bit of a push goes a long way'. Admittedly he said it every time I used the potty. But that's irrelevant, isn't it?"

  We laughed.

  "Right," I finally said. "I don't want to keep you. No idea when I'll see you next."

  "You take care, man. I know you can do it."

  I gave him a hug, then leaped onto Boris' back. As we took off, I noticed Rrhorgus' eyes widen in amazement. But of course. Last time he'd seen Boris he'd still been a baby. And now he was level 28 and bigger than a horse. A dream!

  We turned a farewell circle over the clearing. I waved my hand to Rrhorgus one last time. Then we took to the skies. We had too many things to take care of.

  Below, a village lay, its lights glowing. We left the ocean behind. Today it had been quiet as a mill pond. The weather was warm and dry. Just what I wanted to see, to tell you the truth. I'd had the rain and damp up to here.

  I was curious how the launch of Water World would affect this peace and quiet. Most likely, these little villages would cost their weight in gold.

  The Predators had done the right thing, setting down in Balmy Bay. I wouldn't be surprised if their scowling panther logo would top our clan rankings soon.

  I nudged Boris to rise above the clouds, just in case. The huge moon illuminated the clear sky. I could reach out and touch a star. It was so quiet here. So peaceful. At the moment, this seemed to be the only safe place for me.

  Admittedly, Tanor had been busy. He'd spoken to everyone I knew. Even Dan and Saash had written to me saying they didn't want problems with the Steel Shirts. What had those two got to do with me? I'd long forgotten all about them.

  To be fair, my friends hadn't appreciated the pressure. You had to give them that. Resistance to authority is in our genes. Everyone had written encouraging letters to me, offering their help. Naturally, I wasn't going to go for that. They didn't need problems. Still, it felt damn good to know someone did care.

  Now we were approaching Mellenville, the capital of the Lands of Light. Despite the late hour, it was all aglow. Here, life never stopped, bustling with players completing quests, farming resources or just sightseeing, roaming its countless streets and squares. What an amazing place!

  Had it not been for my current level and Reputation, I wouldn't have been able to even enter its airspace. Ditto for the ocean. I couldn't advance further than a few dozen feet away from the shore. Every time I'd tried to do so, I'd received a system warning.

  It didn't take my satnav long to locate the Armory.

  We circled it for a bit, then landed on the roof of the house next door. The roof tiles crunched their protest but endured nevertheless. The local police wasn't going to appreciate our methods. Still, it wouldn't have been too clever to land in the Armory square. This part of the city may have seemed sleepy and deserted but as the saying goes, even walls have eyes and ears.

  I spent another ten minutes lurking in the shadows keeping an eye on the square. If Tanor had sent someone here to intercept me, they'd have to be at least level 100. Even my enhanced Survival Instinct wouldn't allow me to see a high-level stealther.

  At least I had my teleport crystals.

  Now that I thought about it, Tronus' tower was probably the safest place for me. Still, it was too late. If everything worked out, very soon the situation would change. I'd have no friends left in the Lands of Light. Which meant I had to milk my Light-side Reputation for all it was worth while I still could.

  Ten minutes had expired. Everything seemed hunky dory.

  Rrhorgus had been right, of course. Coming to Mellenville was the worst thing I could have done. Even though duels were banned and severely punished, Tanor's henchmen could always find a way to kidnap me somehow.

  Time to do it. I unsummoned Boris. He could use some rest. I absolutely couldn't afford to lose him now. His three-hour respawn time could ruin all my plans. Better be safe than sorry.

  I gulped down a Potion of Gust which gave me +40% to Speed for 5 minutes. That should be enough.

  Now the Smoke and Mirrors elixir, giving me a 2-minute invisibility. What a shame you couldn't use all these potions in battle: an opponent's attack annulled their properties. They cost an arm and a leg, too.

  Let's go! In two long leaps, I landed on a second-floor balcony. Before I knew it, I stood on the sidewalk below. Talk about Spider Man. Had I been wearing my old Digger duds, it would have taken Tanor some time to scrape me off the pavement. In game, gear was everything, you had to agree.

  I moved in short bounds, hiding in the houses' shadow. It wasn't easy to do, you know. Mellenville was one well-lit city.

  In one last sprint I reached the Armory's front door.

  No guards in sight. Could they all be indoors? In any case, I'd made it here without a problem, excellent.

  I was about to regret my wasting money on the precious potions when a system message appeared in my view,

  Warning! A player Tipitop has attempted to cast a Freezing Hand on you!

  Success! Magic attack repelled!

  I pulled the door toward me as hard as I could and dove inside like a mad hare. Yes! I'd made it.

  I could hear shouts coming from the street,

  "You bastard! He's gone, look!"

  "He's probably high on potions."

  "Tipitop! I thought you were going to freeze him? You call yourself a Necro?"

  "That's not my fault! I got a system message! He's immune to my magic!"

  My heart was about to explode. What the heck had it been? So fast, too!

  I leaned against the wall and covered my eyes with my hand, exhausted. Talk about a close shave. I'd been lucky their Tipitop was level 90. But Tanor! Clever bastard! He'd second-guessed my movements, hadn't he? He must have put two and two together, realizing I was bound to turn up here.

  Aha, and here was a message from him in my inbox...

  Dear Olgerd,

  I suggest we have a friendly talk. Please vacate the building. My men have overreacted and will be punished accordingly.

  Yeah right. Like, I can't wait. After such a valiant demonstration of their friendly intentions? Oh no, thank you very much.

  "Sir Olgerd! Are you all right, Sir?"

  I looked up. Two level-200 guards stared down at me from their natural height. Their expressions betrayed silent adoration. What's with all the puppy eyes? But of course! So stupid of me! I was a hero and a legend, wasn't I?

  Very well, then...

  "I'm fine, thanks," I replied, gasping. "I was about to enter the Armory when those idiots attacked me right by the front door."

  This wasn't a lie, was it? A magic attack was technically still an assault. And if it had been logged in, the guards were bound to know about it. Who in their right mind wouldn't believe a Zombie Slayer?

  "They're too much!" a bearded guard growled, stepping toward the entrance.

  The other one knitted his eyebrows. "It's all right, Sir Olgerd. We'll sort them out."

  The door closed behind th
em. The sounds of a scrap reached me from the outside.

  Another message from Tanor came,

  Don't you think you're overdoing it?

  I just loved it. So he hadn't been overdoing it by sending his best heavies to kidnap me, had he? And the moment I sought protection from local law enforcement, it turned me into a goon? This guy had some sick ideas. Then again, why should I be surprised? Most people do develop reality check problems once they come to power. Or rather, they begin to view their own actions as the only correct ones. Double standards, dammit...

  The noise behind the door kept growing. Apparently, Tanor's boys weren't so keen on spending a stretch in the cooler. A squad of ten more guards hurried to the scene, their armor rattling, each of them saluting me as they ran.

  That'll teach them to upset Mellenville's legendary hero!

  What a shame I had to leave all this behind. I was beginning to enjoy it.

  Would you like to talk?

  It was Tanor again. This reminded me of a joke where a guy refuses to open the door to the police who ask him to "have a talk". Instead, he asks how many of them are there.

  "Five," the brave cops reply.

  "In that case, you can talk between yourselves, can't you?"

  Oh no, I had absolutely no time to talk to anyone at the moment. Especially because the Armory's keeper had already arrived. One of the most important NPCs in the whole of Mellenville.

  "Greetings, Sir Olgerd!" the distinguished man lowered his gray head to me.

  I answered his bow. "Greetings, Sir Dreyfus!"

  Despite his advanced years, he gave the impression of someone ready to bare his sword at a moment's notice, joining the thick of a battle.

  His posture betrayed an officer's training. His face was covered in a fine web of old scars. His sapphire-blue stare seemed to pierce right through you. Add to this his steely composure: he didn't bat an eyelid at the sounds of the melee outside. You could tell straight away this was a man hardened by many a battle.

  Really, why would he care about a run-of-the-mill street fight?

  "I reckon you have your own reasons for visiting our place," he said.

  "I do," I nodded. "I've heard a lot of good things about it."

  "Oh have you? I wonder who from?" he squinted his right eye at me. "Don't get me wrong, please. The Armory is no secret to anyone. I just thought that someone might have referred you."

  "Sure," I bluffed. "Captain Gard of the Maragar Citadel."

  His rugged furrowed face expanded in a good-natured smile. A rare sight, probably.

  "Gard's always been an expert in weaponry," he assured me, still grinning. "You know why?"

  I shook my head. "No."

  "Easy. I taught him everything he knows!

  He guffawed, so unexpectedly for his stern comportment. A hearty slap of his broad hand on my shoulder made me crouch. A clip around the ear from such a hand might kill you outright.

  "So what do you have in mind?" he finally asked.

  "Anything you can show me," I blurted out.

  "Good attitude," he commended me. "Worthy of a warrior. Very well! No good us standing here. This way, please."

  * * *

  A couple of hours later we stood on a large balcony overhanging the Armory, celebrating a deal.

  "To new company!" he toasted me. "I appreciate your Fort story. Rest assured I'll communicate it to the Council. We really should pay more attention to that part of our lands. What was the name of their sergeant again?"

  "Crux," I said. "They're desperate for any help."

  Judging by the fact that no system messages had come up during our conversation, it was just that: a conversation. A welcome change from the furious haggling session we'd had earlier.

  Haggle? You could say that! Dreyfus could outbid a seasoned market trader. I hadn't expected this from a hardened soldier at all. Now I could understand the Council's decision to post him in the Armory. Firstly, to keep their own butts out of trouble: soldiers and politicians didn't mix very well. Guys like Dreyfus wouldn't keep any dirty secrets under wraps. You might even get a sword between your ribs for your filthy little practices.

  Secondly, this penny-pincher was perfect for the job. He'd almost ripped my soul out. But at the end of the day, we were both happy with the deal.

  "Oh yes," the old man said, admiring my little menagerie. "Now that you've told me about the zombie fort, I understand why you needed that particular type of armor. And with these beasts... oh man."

  I shrugged. "Them and I, we're one. I'm strong only as long as they are."

  I'd had to put my hand in my pocket nice and deep. Still, it was worth it. Both Boris and Prankster had become twice as strong. I'd got them both special "Arsenal-mark" helmets, breastplates, greaves and other bits of armor which made them look like some mythical beasts from ancient legends. What was I saying? They were mythical beasts, weren't they?

  I had one last visit left to pay before setting off for No-Man's Lands. But I had to buy some presents first.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Here they are, the Woods of Lirtia!" I said under my breath as I patted Boris' neck. "I can imagine old Master Adkhur's face when he sees us!"

  I'd just left the auction after having stocked up on a tasty cornucopia of treats for Master and several chunks of juicy high-level salmon for the kitty. I'd love to know if the level of presents affected the resulting buff's quality. That would be really good if it did.

  We were flying over one of Mirror World's largest locations — and undoubtedly one of the most popular. The tiny figures of players were everywhere: scurrying amid the trees, crowding the numerous clearings and bustling along the snaking river banks.

  Everyone was busy here: cutting, chopping, farming, hunting, fishing, grinding and sifting. Was it my imagination or the players' numbers had at least doubled since I'd been here? As far as I remembered from my first visit, it hadn't been as crowded.

  Then again, why shouldn’t it be? Mirror World was trending, its top players becoming media celebrities overnight. I wouldn't be surprised to see them in commercial breaks soon advertising everything from beer to panty liners.

  The black backs of the local wolves appeared below. I trapped a smile in my beard, remembering how huge they'd seemed to me on my first trip.

  As I approached the familiar grove, I realized something was wrong. "Boris, let's land here!"

  Once large and emerald green, the head of a giant tree looked like the scorched skeleton of a magic beast. Had they had a fire here? Apparently not. This was something else. The tree trunk was pitch black, twisted as if someone had been trying to squeeze the juices out of it.

  The clearing had become a burial site filled with ash. I could see mummified bodies lying everywhere, their outlines hinting at the forest animals they'd once been. Wolves, elk, bears and deer... I saw a few large feline bodies and peered anxiously at them. Big sigh of relief. No Lita. No wonder: you had to go some to smoke a pet like her.

  Master Adkhur's hut stood split like a walnut, its walls destroyed by the same weird magic. By now I had no doubts this must have been a magic attack.

  And not just that. This had nothing to do with players. I was the only person with access to this particular location. More than likely, it was some new development — a yet unknown playscript — surfacing.

  This must have been one hell of a scrap as the forest animals had tried to defend their master. Still, the owner of the murderous black magic had proved the stronger. Which meant that Master Adkhur was either dead or captured.

  Alternatively, he might have escaped. I couldn't see his body anywhere which was good news, sort of. He just might be alive somewhere.

  The longer I lingered, the more I wanted to leave the place. Once a peaceful haven of beautiful magic, it now resembled an A-bomb site littered with scorched remains.

  Boris didn't seem to like it here, either. Scowling, he spread his legs wide ready for takeoff, his tail swishing nervously.

&n
bsp; "We won't be long," I assured him before heading for the hut.

  A thorough check of its remains produced nothing. Judging by the walls melted by the weird witchcraft, there was nothing intact left inside.

  I heaved a disappointed sigh. "All right, let's move it."

  Boris looked relieved. I was about to leap into the saddle when I glimpsed something at the edge of the clearing.

  "Wait a sec... what have we got here?"

  A cowering animal was trying to hide behind a thin tree. My newly-acquired Survival Instinct had allowed me to notice it. How strange. I'd never seen any living thing here before, apart from Master Adkhur, Lita the lynx and myself. This wasn't right.

  The creature was bigger than a fox but smaller than a wolf. While I was considering my options, it decided to make the first move.

  The leaves rustled, parting. The creature walked out into the opening and headed clumsily but confidently toward us. It looked very much like a wolverine.

  Name: Smooth-Haired Growler, the system reported. Level: 10

  He was no threat to us. Boris calmly watched the visitor who seemed to be quite nervous. Still, he continued his advance, baring his teeth, his hackles on end in a cautious warning, as if saying, I have to approach you but make sure you don't do anything stupid.

  Wait a sec... what was that tied around his neck? Wasn't that one of the funny green ribbons that Master Adkhur used to decorate his robes with?

  That's right! And dangling on it was a small square package!

  "Come here, boy," I urged the beastie. "It's all right. No one's gonna hurt you. We're friends. Gosh, you are skinny, aren't you?"

  The Growler approached us sideways with his tail between his legs, suspicious, his hackles still bristling. He kept casting wary glances at the crouching Boris who tilted his head sideways like a dog, studying the weird visitor.