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

by Alexey Osadchuk

  I struggled around in it for a while, finally scrambling back to my feet. I cast a quick look around but couldn't see past my own nose in the howling snowstorm.

  "Boris!" a weak croak escaped my throat.

  A light nudge in my back made me swing round. "There you are!" I threw my hands around his neck. "Are you hurt?"

  I began anxiously running all around him like a mother hen looking for possible injuries.

  Phew. He was all right. His Energy was nearing zero, though.

  "Take a break, kiddo," I said, producing the summoning charm. "I'll try to find out where we are exactly."

  The snowstorm had long buried the Calteans' trail. It looked like we'd have to get to the city separately. I just hoped they were okay. Droy was an experienced scout, no doubt about it; still, stronger men had been known to succumb to these brutal elements. Me, I had nothing to fear in this respect. All I had to do was open the map and follow it. Especially as I already knew the best way of traveling across snow banks.

  You've built the simplest mechanical creature: an Armor-Plated Scarab!

  Current level: 170

  Hiding behind his steel flank and wrapping myself tighter in my fur coat, I opened the map.

  I'd actually thought it would be worse than this. Even though I'd been diverted quite a bit from our original route, it wasn't that terribly far. According to the map, the walls of the Western Bastion were supposed to be over there and I was over here. With the scarab's help, I'd be able to get back to the main road quickly, then use it to get to the city walls. The group was supposed to wait for me there.

  If the truth were known, I was even glad the weather was so rough: it meant that our pursuers would have to battle through it too. So even if they somehow managed to pick up our trail, the snowstorm would considerably slow up their advance, allowing us plenty of time to get ready to face them.

  I just hoped we survived until they arrived. Only now, when I was virtually in sight of the city walls, my doubts and emotions began to get the better of me. The Twilight Castle's mysterious guards worried me a lot. Which was why I had to be the first to enter the city. And then... come what may.

  I slapped the scarab's scaly flank, nudging him to get going. He staggered and listed, getting stuck in a snow drift. Just when I was about to regret having wasted a precious Pangolin Scale on him, the scarab stirred and lunged forward, gaining speed.

  With a sigh of relief, I followed. Much better! We should have done this before we'd even entered the Icy Woods. The guys would have loved it.

  After a quarter of an hour, we'd already reached the Market Road leading to the city's main gate. Every now and again, grim statues of ancient heroes that used to line the road loomed out of the snowstorm. I couldn’t see them very well. Not the right moment for sightseeing, anyway: the wind forced my head down. Having said that, some of the statues definitely reminded me of something...

  Yes! Of course!

  The massive scene carved in the rock that I'd seen back in Spider Grotto — that's what it was!

  The warriors surrounding the king: his bodyguards. Same helmets, same full-height shields and poleaxes. One guy seemed to be holding something that looked like a crossbow... wretched snowstorm! I couldn't see anything! The fact that the sun had already set didn't help, either — but my Ennan eyesight helped me somewhat.

  I probably advanced a hundred paces when a new message glowed red before my eyes,

  Turn back, O trespasser! This is a sacred place guarded by ancient spirits!

  Warning! This location can be too dangerous for players of your level!

  Please refrain from visiting it.

  I know, I know.

  More messages followed, but I didn't get a chance to read them. The snowbanks on each side of me exploded, releasing dark silhouettes that came for me.

  "Here we go," I whispered, aloof.

  My left hand reached for the slingshot. My right hand had a spiky burr ready. The scarab was awaiting my orders.

  "Wait till they come closer," I told him.

  Two of the silhouettes stopped: they were probably archers. The rest continued their advance. I couldn't make out their levels yet, but you had to be stupid not to realize the City guards had to be at least 300+.

  I pulled the sling taut, aiming it at one of them. He was by far the biggest. Admittedly, this was waste of good ammo. Maybe it was better to start thinking about how I was going to do my own corpse run once I'd died.

  The nearest silhouette was less than twenty feet away when I remembered the Teleport Crystals. My hand jerked toward my bag.

  Orman's sarcastic voice reached me through the snowstorm,

  "Finally! Where the heck have you been?"

  I peered at the approaching predatory silhouettes, recognizing my friends. The two archers turned out to be Horm and Seet. The big guy was Crym the Hammer and the one next to him, Orman the Bear. And the one who looked as if he was about to break every bone in my body with his bare hands was... Droy!

  "You cunning bastard!" he repeated, giving me a bear hug. "We thought that was the end of you!"

  "He's not that simple," Crym nodded at the scarab. "I bet those drooling dogs regret ever meeting him!"

  I faked a shudder. "I still shake when I think about it."

  "Are they dead?" Horm the Turtle butted in.

  I shook my head. "Unfortunately not. They're not easy to kill. But I gave them a good hiding."

  "Good," Droy nodded. "That gives us some time to get ready."

  "Come on, let's go then," I said. "Where are the city gates? Show me."

  They exchanged funny glances.

  "Let him see for himself," Droy said, then turned to me, "Come along, then."

  As it turned out, we'd been standing right next to the city gates all along. Or should I say, the ex-city gates.

  "Is this some kind of joke?" my quiet voice shook as I took in the unfolding vista.

  Everywhere I turned I could only see ruins. It was as if some giant had razed the city to the ground just for fun. Even the ruins of Ancient Rome looked better in comparison.

  Where were the city walls? Where was the citadel? The gate, for crissakes? Was this their fabled Twilight Castle?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  "There was a time when this world was ruled by Wizards and Masters. The former controlled the elements while the latter created crafts. This period is called the Golden Era for a reason, for no one has ever managed to repeat what they did in those days."

  Crym's level voice, the gentle warmth of a small campfire, a hot meal and the finally calm weather — no wonder I felt drowsy. Still, I shouldn't sleep. We had visitors arriving at any moment.

  "The pinnacle of their art was the Eselmord, or the Golden Gate," Crym went on, staring at the fire. "Few now can explain their reasons for building it. Could it be the Masters' pride? Or the Wizards' thirst for new knowledge?"

  Orman chuckled. "Or, as my Dad used to say, they had an itch in the backside. What was it they needed? More gold? More glory? Or power? Idiots! They thought they'd be able to control the gate to Inferno!"

  "And what happened next?" I asked Crym, curious, but he was deep in thought.

  Droy replied instead, "The Black Era began, that's what happened. Countless bloodthirsty monsters escaped from the portal, devouring everything that moved."

  The men descended into grim silence, staring at the flames. Finally Horm continued,

  "If legends are to be believed, the Forbidden City was built by the descendants of those ancient Masters," he announced confidently.

  "I believe you. Just look at this," in a dramatic sweep of his hand, Droy pointed at the collapsed city. "Even in this state, the ruins are still impressive, aren't they?"

  I had to agree. Even though the city looked as if flattened by a massive blitz, it still gave you this, how can I put it... this sense of unwavering. Take this ramshackle house we'd taken cover in, for instance. Its walls were as thick as my arm. This was more of a min
i citadel than a house. And judging by the ruins, there were hundreds of them there.

  I thought of Mellenville, sun-drenched and filled with laughter. The Ennans' objectives when building their city had been slightly different. Its narrow streets and thick-walled houses with arrowslits for windows — everything pointed to the fact that this was a stronghold meant to sustain numerous enemy attacks. I didn't yet know what the center of the city looked like but the outskirts were well-fortified. Or should I say, had been well-fortified. There was nothing left there now but rubble and debris.

  Could that mean there were no guards left here, either? We'd been lying low in this old house for a few hours already — and no one had troubled us yet.

  "From what I heard, the Nocteans arrived during the Black Era, too," Holm added.

  "You're right," Orman spat on the ground. "They probably escaped that wretched portal with all the other monsters."

  He was about to add something else when Seet the Burly appeared noiselessly from behind a collapsed wall. Seet was our lookout. His face was strained, his left hand tense on his taut composite bow.

  "They're coming," he said.

  Orman cussed under his breath.

  "Talk about the devil," Horm said.

  "Back to your positions," Droy commanded calmly. "Seet, put out the fire. Olgerd, you ready?"

  "Yes," I summoned the well-rested Boris and leapt into the saddle.

  Like a monolith of steel, the scarab froze in a small passage between the heaps of rubble. The men scattered to their positions, bows at the ready.

  We'd chosen this particular house for a reason. The layout of its ruins offered only one approach route while allowing us to retreat to the ruins of the house next to it... and then to the one next to that one... so that theoretically we could get to the city center.

  I tried to imagine what the city used to look like still undamaged, when its walls and the main gate could sustain enemy pressure and the complex maze of its fortified houses had still been ready to face any opponent. How many armies had broken their teeth on this particularly hard nut? Even now, although admittedly a sorry sight, the Twilight Castle seemed to instruct us on the best retreat tactics we should be using.

  "Olgerd — now!" Droy commanded.

  Boris spread his wings and took to the sky. Uh-oh. The bird's eye view of the city was rather sad. It gave you the impression it had been trampled by a crowd of angry giants.

  Judging by the map, the Brutville Halls where I had to land in order to activate the Twilight Obelisk had to be somewhere in the center, lying amid the ruins. Never mind. I had plenty of time to think about it. I had more important things to worry about now.

  In a few powerful wingbeats, Boris gained altitude and began circling over the city gate. The snowstorm had long subsided. The enormous disk of the Moon appeared from behind a dark foreboding cloud. Visibility was excellent.

  I could see that the Nocteans had already entered the city too. Mission accomplished! We'd managed to lure them away from the clan. I just hoped Laosh had received our message and knew what best to do. We, for our part, had only one option: engage the Nocteans and try to exhaust them before our main forces arrived.

  One look at the Nocteans' progress through the city showed me that they were scared of the ruins. They advanced gingerly, weapons at the ready. Had it not been for that big Noctean guy over there, they might not have ventured into the city at all. I could see no werewolves — either they were walking in their human shape or were still busy licking their wounds back in the Icy Woods.

  Actually, they weren't so numerous now. About fifty of them were missing. Had they died on the way? Or gotten lost in the snowstorm? In any case, that was good news.

  The giant Noctean emitted a loud growl. Four of the others reluctantly left the group and moved in the opposite direction.

  I'd love to know what they were so afraid of. Could it be us, by any chance? Somehow I didn't think so.

  Admittedly, it made me feel uncomfortable.

  The Noctean recon group began moving toward our positions. They proceeded cautiously, casting wary glances around them and jumping at every shadow. Another thirty or forty feet, and they'd be within our kill zone.

  A scrawny Noctean walked in front, crouching — they must have let the weakest one lead the way. He'd been in a scrap or two, I could see that. His right ear was missing, his hairy hide covered in bald patches, his wide wrinkled nose sniffing the cold air.

  A few more steps, and he'd smell the campfire.

  And so he did. He took in a deep breath and froze, pressing his only ear to his neck. His fanged head turned toward our positions.

  He didn't get the chance to warn his packmates about it. Pierced with black Caltean arrows, the four scouts died quickly and soundlessly. Not that it helped us very much. The others saw their bodies amid the debris and raised the alarm.

  Their leader emitted a threatening roar which echoed over the ruins, raising a unanimous screaming reaction among his people.

  Here we go.

  The Nocteans acted exactly as we'd thought they would. They were too stupid to live, really. The one narrow passage leading to our positions was immediately packed solid with their squirming gray bodies.

  The scarab darted forward, adding to the havoc. Accelerating, he rammed the hairy Noctean mass, blocking their way like a wine cork blocks the narrow bottleneck.

  Black Caltean arrows showered their exposed bodies, taking their deadly toll.

  I tried to keep up, my slingshot firing non-stop. The chat window kept blinking, trying to report something apparently important, but I didn't care. I was too busy. The scarab was about to pack up. I was waiting for the explosion.

  I'd already got the Fix Box set up. This would be my fourth scarab. I had enough Pangolin Scales left to build two more.

  Just as I thought that we could use another thirty bowmen firing from those walls, a powerful explosion shattered the air.

  That was one hell of a bada boom. Powdered snow hung over the narrow passage. My ears were so blocked that my eyes watered.

  When the smoke had dispersed somewhat, I realized what a major blunder I'd made back in the Icy Woods when I'd left the battlefield before the fight was over. I could have made a good ten levels in one go — at least.

  The scene was a total mess. The passage which only a second ago had been blocked with Nocteans was now heaped with gory bits of flesh. I felt sick and dizzy. Would I ever get used to the sight?

  I took in a deep breath to suppress the gagging reflex. The icy-cold air burned my lungs, bringing relief and clearing my mind.

  "At least now I know why the werewolves weren't back," I whispered, giving Boris a light slap on the neck.

  In the meantime, the Noctean leader below kicked and roared, trying to stop the panic. When he'd succeeded, he decided to take the next party in himself. The explosion had actually widened the passage somewhat, allowing the Nocteans to double their efforts.

  On my command, Boris dove down. The next moment a brand-new steely tank rose in the attackers' way and ploughed toward their leader.

  Before the giant Noctean could prepare to repel his attack, I dropped five fleas directly onto his head. Judging by his furious roar, he didn't like it.

  "Enjoy," I murmured. "There's more where they came from."

  Boris banked a steep turn and shot upward.

  The Noctean leader was a terrible sight. Stabbed in the stomach by the fleas' sharp mandibles, he was rapidly erupting in black ulcers. The other Nocteans jumped onto their leader's attackers as one man.

  I flashed a bloodthirsty grin. "Too late, guys. Your general is toast."

  The ruins cheered with Caltean voices. Droy and his men had seen the whole show. Admittedly, that felt good.

  Black arrows showered the enemy again, coming thicker this time. The Calteans must have realized that not all had been lost.

  What happened next is best described as a complete washout. The body of their already dyi
ng leader convulsed and began shapeshifting.

  A couple of dozen Nocteans did the same.

  Werewolves.

  "Retreat!" Droy shouted.

  Good decision. Once the second scarab exploded, the passage would become even wider. Time to move to the next house and start everything all over again.

  Unfortunately, we didn't have time.

  The Calteans had underestimated the Noctean leader. While we'd been busy defending what we'd thought to be the only access route, another Noctean group had approached us from the rear, taking cover behind all the debris and snow banks.

  How could this have happened? Why hadn't I noticed it? And what the hell was wrong with their fabled game system? The passage in front was the Nocteans' only possible aggro direction!

  The Calteans engaged in a hand-to-hand. Closing their shields, Orman and Crym met the Nocteans' first blow, with Droy brandishing his spear from behind their backs. Seet and Horm were loosing off arrows non-stop.

  What was I supposed to do? My knees began to shake. My heart froze like a scared bird.

  As if understanding the state I was in, Droy raised his head up, "Try to deter them! As long as you can!"

  Got it.

  Strangely enough, my friend's voice and — most importantly — his prompt clear-cut order had had a calming effect on me. "Yessir!"

  Not a moment too soon. The Nocteans were busy taking my scarab apart. Another explosion shattered the air. Without waiting for the billowing snow to set, I released another scarab, followed by a new swarm of fleas.

  While their leader was busy fighting off this new obstruction, I turned to the Caltean positions.

  Oh.

  We had casualties.

  Seet lay face down in the snow, pinned down by a large slab of rock. A dark spot kept growing under his body, its color unclear at this distance. No points for guessing what it was, though.

  Horm sat on the ground next to him clutching a knife, his chest heaving. A broken spear stuck out of his left shoulder.