In the meantime, I removed the ribbon and broke the seal on the package wrapped in leather. Inside was a single scrap of paper covered all over in small hasty handwritten scribbles,
Olgerd, if you're reading this, then you must have seen what they've done to my temporary abode. The enemies of our clan attacked me in the dead of night. They managed to break the powerful charm that my friend Master Satis had cast over the grove.
I had to flee. Those bastards killed so many of my animal friends, dammit! Had it not been for them, I wouldn't be writing this now. They sacrificed their own lives to save mine.
I'm not going to tell you where I'm hiding now. You should understand: anyone can intercept this message. Let me just tell you it's time you do what you were planning to do all along. Restore the Twilight Castle to its old glory! Wake up the Gray Obelisk resting deep within Brutville Halls!
Oh, and one more thing. Please give Clumsy something to eat, will ya? I told him to wait for you here. He must be absolutely starving.
This is it, my friend! Until we meet again!
The letter wasn’t signed. Still, it was perfectly clear it was from Master Adkhur.
As soon as I finished reading, a new system message appeared grandly before my eyes,
Congratulations! You've been entrusted with the fate of an entire race!
Time to fulfil your destiny!
You must reach the Twilight Castle and go down the Brutville Halls to activate the Gray Obelisk.
Reward: Unknown
Warning! You can't complete the task at your current level! You need to grow stronger!
Optimal leveling conditions:
An extended immersion for a minimum of three months.
Preparation time required: 24 hrs.
Aha, this was Vicky sending me a discreet message. Like, it was time to make good on my promise. Apparently, they were up to something out there in the real world, seeing as they'd openly told me to go for an extended immersion.
Oh well. If they say so. So much for my daily gym and pool sessions. Here I go again, lying flat in a capsule feeding through a tube.
With a sigh I reached into my bag for a fish and handed it to Clumsy. Unhesitantly he dug his claws into its fat scaly side and darted for the woods.
As I watched him leave, I heard excited voices behind my back,
"Whoa! What do we have here?"
"Have you been to this location before?"
"What, is this an event or something? Why is there nothing about it in the chat?"
"See that black bear? Yesterday we tried to smoke one exactly like that! Our group couldn't do it!"
"Did he do it all by himself?"
"Are you filming?"
"Do I look like I am, stupid?"
"Why not? Everybody else is!"
I turned around. There were about twenty of them, mainly grinders and low-level warriors. No, not twenty. A whole crowd of them was hurrying in their wake.
"Hi, man!" a red-bearded dwarf shouted, pointing at the dead animals. "What did you do it with?"
"It's so awful!" a slender-limbed Alven girl shuddered, holding a fancily decorated sickle in her hand.
They must have thought that I was the one responsible for the massacre.
"Just look at his mount!" a Dwand exclaimed. "I've never seen anything like it!"
"Where did you get it from?"
Without saying a word, I turned to Boris and leaped into the saddle. ""Let's go, kiddo."
The threatening toss of Boris' head made the more curious shrink back. Spreading his wings, he kicked off gracefully, raising a cloud of gray dust. In two powerful wingbeats we were soaring high in the sky.
I hid a grin in my beard as I circled the clearing one last time. While most of the players had frozen below open-mouthed, some of the more daring ones were already checking the dead animal bodies for loot.
I tried not to think what was about to happen. I had a funny feeling it might end in a nice big scuffle.
"That's it, kiddo. We're done here. Time to head to No-Man's Lands."
Chapter Twenty
The sun was setting slowly, little by little, taking its own sweet time like a small boy trying to cadge another half-hour of playtime before bed.
Not a thunder clap in the sky. Occasional clouds were soft and fluffy like pink cotton candy, floating somewhere minding their own business.
It was quite windy though. Still, I wasn't cold. No wonder: this Protection of mine was better than any amount of Purple elemental runes. The first time I'd been here, I'd frozen to the bone. The Ardean Range is no place for hothouse flowers. But now I didn't feel a thing. I was lying in the snow as if it was the most natural thing in the world, rereading my and Sveta's letter exchange.
Everything's going to be all right, Oleg darling. Our girl is strong and brave. She must have taken after her Daddy.
And Mommy. You're an incredibly strong woman, sweetheart.
I'm her mother. That says it all. It'll be fine, trust me. We've done the hardest part. And it's all thanks to you! You're our Daddy, our champion! Aren't you afraid of going there? I keep watching all those No-Man's Lands raid videos. It looks so scary. The mobs they have there! And that's virtually a stone's throw from the Citadel. I dread to think what they're like where you're heading.
Nah. I'm done being afraid. Come what may. In any case, I go there prepared.
I saw it! Christie saw it too!
Saw what? What do you mean?
The video! It's trending now! The mysterious Fort hero! Your Boris is sooo cute! He's grown so much! And he's wearing armor!
What video are you talking about?
The one in the scorched woods. With all the dead animals. Did you really do it all by yourself?
Aha. I see. No, it wasn't me. It's part of the script.
Everybody thinks it was you. But you know what? It's probably for the better. At least those bastards will keep out of your way.
The sound of snow crunching underfoot distracted me from reading. It came from the bottom of the cliff where I'd set up my lookout.
I peeked out from behind the rock.
"Hey, Lightie! It's all right! It's me, Droy! Remember?"
I recognized the sarcasm in the voice. This was the Caltean advance team leader I'd met here last time. So his name was Droy, then.
I rose to my feet and peered openly down.
A Caltean warrior stood at the center of a small plateau. Same dark beard, same furs hugging his stocky frame. He had a spear and a short sword.
He'd grown several levels since I'd last seen him. Did that mean that Caltean NPCs could level up just like players did? Having said that, it was only logical. Citadel guards leveled up, too — slowly but surely. Apparently it was done to preserve the game's balance.
"How did you know I was here?" I shouted.
He suppressed a smile. "Our scouts had their sights on you already this morning. They wanted to smoke you themselves but when they mentioned your flying beast, I knew straight away they were talking about you. Hah! Don't forget to thank your Gods of Light for your miraculous delivery! Now go back to where you came from! Next time I might not happen to be around!"
"Don't call me a Lightie. I'm not with them anymore."
I had to stick to my Ennan cover story. If Adkhur had accepted it, it just might work now too. As long as I followed it, adlibbing if necessary, I might be all right.
"Ah, an outcast? What have you done, killed your neighbor? Heh! That's good! One Lightie less!"
Congratulations! You’ve just completed a hidden quest: True Face
Reward: +5 to your Reputation with the Red Owls clan.
Warning! You need to watch out! Now the clan's enemies will double their efforts in pursuing you wherever you go!
Excellent. It looked like I'd done everything right.
"What are you doing in our clan's lands?" he sharply changed the subject.
"Looking for a new home!" I blurted out.
The thing w
as, right until now I'd had a rather clear plan of action. I had no business in the Twilight Castle quite yet, not with my current level. Still, the Ennans Map had had two hidden prompts: the locations of the two remaining Masters to the north of No-Man's Lands.
That's how I used to think before: I'd go visit them and have a talk... all the Masters were like the links of one chain, weren't they? Otherwise, why all the wealth of information about them? But once I'd visited Adkhur's desolated abode, it had all gone downhill. He'd disappeared from the map, together with Satis the Mage and Axe the Warrior. That's the way the cookie crumbles...
So it had been back to the drawing board. Dmitry and I had picked each other's brains and come up with this idea of leveling my Reputation with the Calteans. Seeing as the whole of No-Man's Lands was packed with potential prompts, all I had to do was walk into one of them. Which was exactly what had happened to me on my first trip here.
At the moment, my flimsy relationship with Droy was my only foothold this side of the Citadel. And judging by my Rep growing and by the thoughtful expression on Droy's face, I should persevere in this direction.
Finally he shouted, "Can you come down? Not a good idea yelling all across the Ardean Range. You never know who might be listening. You'll be safe, I promise!"
I was prepared to do this. I'd already created a resurrection point nearby. Sooner or later, I was bound to start interacting with the locals.
I took a deep breath and began descending. It didn't take long. Soon I stood opposite Droy who nodded to me, his face friendly.
Congratulations! You’ve just completed a hidden quest: Trust is the Road to Success.
Reward: +5 to your Reputation with the Red Owls clan.
Warning! You need to watch out! Now the clan's enemies will double their efforts in pursuing you wherever you go!
Excellent. I smiled and nodded back to him.
I'd have never been able to tell him from a dwarf. His skin was a dark ashen color, that was the only difference. His clothes weren't much. Apparently, the Red Owls were on a lean streak.
"You've changed, Lightie," Droy finally announced, studying me with interest.
"So have you," I replied, hinting at his levels.
He shrugged his burly shoulders. "You could say that."
Only now did I notice a bandage on his right hand: a dirty gray rag spotted with familiar reddish brown.
He'd been wounded. He must have spent a lot of time fighting. That's how he'd gotten his current level.
I peered at the wound tag. This was a Green poisonous debuff! And what if...
"I can see you're wounded," I said.
His eyes squinted threateningly. "What's that got to do with you?"
I raised my hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect. I just might try and help you, that's all."
I could see his eyes gleam with hope. His wound must have hurt a lot. Still, this expression disappeared as soon as it came.
"Light magic!" he spat on the ground.
"Light, Dark, red, green, what difference does it make? If it helps, why not try it?"
"Good question," he growled. "You can ask our shaman what he thinks about it. He knows the answer to that."
He cringed. I could see there wasn't much love lost between these two. This was a good moment to press on, "Why didn't he heal you then?"
"Good question, Lightie," he replied with a sad chuckle.
This wasn't a healthy attitude. "Let's do it this way. I'll try to help you. If it doesn't work, then apparently this wasn't the will of... who is it your shaman normally asks for help with his healing?"
"The Higher Beings," he hurried to offer.
"Thanks. So if it doesn't work, then it wasn't the will of the Higher Beings. But if it does..."
"Okay, okay, then this was the will of the Higher Beings too!" he grinned his understanding. "Very well, you've talked me into it! Go ahead, heal me!"
Trying not to betray my excitement, I reached into my bag for one of the Purple Cleanse Scrolls. I'd bought a whole shedload of them at the auction last night. They were costly but worth every penny.
I'd actually stocked up at the auction very nicely. Apart from all sorts of scrolls, stones and elixirs, I'd also got myself a good pickaxe and a capacious new bag. Plus some clothes: a cloak, a shirt and a pair of pants. In other words, I'd willingly parted with every bit of money that Dreyfus the Armory keeper had failed to relieve me of.
Right, let's have a look. The moment of truth. Could I use a scroll to heal this guy here?
It worked no problem. It had two options: to either heal myself or another character. I chose the latter. A new box promptly appeared, inviting me to enter Droy's name. I pressed Activate.
A golden shimmer enveloped Droy's arm.
Success! You've healed a character: Droy.
Would you like to remember this action: Yes/No
I quickly pressed Yes. Now whenever I needed to heal someone, all I had to do was point a scroll at them.
Yesss! It worked!
Overjoyed, Droy studied the spot where his old wound had just been. Our eyes met.
He proffered his hand to me. "Thank you, Lightie."
Congratulations! One of the most respected warriors of the Red Owls Clan considers you his friend!
Reward: +100 to your Reputation with the Red Owls clan.
Warning! You need to watch out! Now the clan's enemies will double their efforts in pursuing you wherever you go!
"My pleasure," I answered his strong handshake. "Please call me Olgerd."
He nodded. "Do you think you could do this again?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.
"Only if it's the will of the Higher Beings," I said with a sly squint.
He grinned his understanding. "Follow me."
Chapter Twenty-One
Uh-oh. This wasn’t how I'd imagined a prosperous Caltean settlement to be. I'd thought it would be a nice little town or at least a village. Nothing of the sort. This was just a temporary camp — and a badly fortified one at that. It was situated even worse, deep down in a mountain gorge. This was a trap if ever I'd seen one.
How weird. If even I with my total lack of military training could see that, then who was in charge of this disorderly tribe?
The place looked like a Gypsy camp crowded with tents of every size made with animal pelts, bones and pieces of wood. You could see straight away that the Calteans were new to the nomadic lifestyle. There was no system to their camp. Tents blocked everybody's way. Had I wanted to cross it from one end to the other, I should need a whole team of cartographers — provided they could find their way around.
The camp was a smoke-drenched riot of noise, animals bellowing and humans shouting everywhere I turned. I really couldn't understand how I'd managed to have missed it from the air.
Judging by the small numbers of livestock — which must have been either buffalos or yaks by the looks of them — the Calteans were finishing off their last dwindling supplies.
"Droy, you sly bastard! You did capture him on your own after all, didn't you?"
Three Calteans stood in our way, their levels slightly lower than that of Droy's. Their gear was even worse. All three were similarly burly, with identical beards. They must have been the scouts that had noticed me first.
"He's not my prisoner," Droy snapped. "He's my guest," he pulled my hand, dragging me deeper into the camp.
I glimpsed his men's long faces. They watched our departure open-mouthed.
Our arrival hadn't gone unnoticed. Children, women, men, young and old — they all dropped whatever they'd been doing and stopped to get an eyeful of the stranger. The further we went, the less happy I felt.
Strangely enough, I didn't notice any malice in their faces. They stared at me with a rather curious interest. This was Reputation for you. Mirror World had taken care of that. How strange: here of all places I didn't feel like I was in the game at all, in this nomadic camp surrounded by these stocky gray-s
kinned savages. I had a funny feeling I might spend a lot of time in occupational therapy once I was finally back.
We stopped in front of a rather large tent which looked considerably better that the rest — not because it was richer because it wasn't; but it was quite cleverly put up. Apparently, the same principle applied here as in the real world: show me your home and I might tell you who you are with a 90% certainty.
"In you go," Droy lifted the curtain made of animal skins. "Welcome to my home."
Congratulations! You've just completed a hidden quest: A Friend's Welcome!
Reward: +100 to your Reputation with the Red Owls clan.
Warning! You need to watch out! Now the clan's enemies will double their efforts in pursuing you wherever you go!
I stepped inside, preparing to adjust my eyes to darkness. Not at all. The inside of the tent was rather well-illuminated. Daylight was coming through a hole up in the ceiling. A neat open hearth had been installed underneath it. The air wasn't stale: the tent must have been well-ventilated. Whoever had built this place knew what they were doing.
To our right was a small altar. Upon entering, Droy bowed to it. I hurried to copy his movements. The main thing was not to goof up. A new congratulation message appeared, indicating I was on the right path.
To our left lay a bed. A wall above it was hung with Droy's numerous trophies. I did my best to express my delight under Droy's watchful gaze. He must have been really proud of his victories.
Another bed, slightly smaller, was set up a bit further on. Droy was already there, beckoning me to approach.
Okay, what did he have there?
Not what. Who. A broad-shouldered young fellow, skinny as a rake, his eyes closed, his hair matted with sweat. He was asleep. No, not really. Unconscious. He looked a lot like Droy.
The Way of the Outcast (Mirror World Book #3) LitRPG series Page 20
