Devil's Waltz
Page 12
“Oh,” he mumbled, disappointed. Legendary-rarity scrolls were one in however many. The few on the marketplace were thousands of credits apiece. None were for Necromancer. “Anything else useful regarding my class?”
“This is mostly about Undead, not Necros.”
He held back a sarcastic remark, mana churning in his bowels. “Anything useful regarding Undead? And do you have any tomes on specifically Necros?”
“No. And no.” She turned a page and another, then another. Highly detailed drawings of skeletal and fleshy humanoids flipped by. One caught Rowan’s eye.
“Wait, stop at that one.” Standing closer, he pointed at a faint skeleton drawn as though… “Is that a ghost?” His vocabulary of the dark language wasn’t complete enough to understand the text. He needed to eat more scrolls.
“Yeah. It’s a wraith. What about it?”
“I didn’t know they existed.” He scratched his chin and leaned closer for a better look, fanning away mist. “I wonder if I can craft one.”
“It’s probably an augmentation. You’ll might get it after finding a wraith to raise.”
“They leave corpses?”
“It says here that they leave a…” Her brows furrowed. “I’ve never seen this word before.” Annoyance mired her tone.
He inched closer for a good look of those tiny hieroglyphics. Her dark-arcane Mana Shield spun with a translucent messy pattern of lines and sparkles. The sphere radiated a curious form of heat that wasn’t hot in the regular sense. He couldn’t describe it.
Gabrielle materialized in a swirl of smoke. She grabbed his elbow and tugged him away. “Careful of her shield. She’s got it set to annihilate anything that touches it. You’re still a level 146 with classless gear, remember.”
Too true. Arrogance would be his undoing. “My bad.”
Ambiguous laughed. “I was hoping to see his eyebrows shaved off.”
“Heh. That would’ve been funny.” But her face said otherwise.
Something about Gabrielle’s expression was off. Annoyance? Or jealousy? They couldn’t be fighting over him. He was Rowan Black, the average-looking middle-class kid bought out by a secret society. They were probably fighting over influence over his Undead, but Ambiguous didn’t seem like the power-hungry type.
Rowan scratched his chin. Hmmm strange. Maybe I’m just over thinking things again. Gabrielle was probably genuinely worried about me, judging from those cute giant eyes. That’s it.
Gabrielle poked his nose. “Why are ya staring? Is my beauty so entrancing?”
“Just thinking about wraiths.” He smirked. “Maybe I could raise your corpse into one.” He blinked. “Could I do that? Raise your corpse for another Occult Engineer?”
“Yup.” She didn’t seem bothered about the thought of dying just so he’d have another minion. “I dun wanna waste Resurrection Stones, buuuut… maybe an extra me would be useful.”
“I just remembered I can’t raise bosses.” He left out the tidbit that it was a recent nerf in case it would piss her off. They could’ve went boss hunting yesterday.
“Aww. Too bad.” Her face scrunched for a moment, and her eyes drifted to Ambiguous. “But Ambig—”
“Don’t even think about it. I’m down to my last two. You still owe me one for the battle yesterday.”
“Heeeeey. I already gave you a plot for your new mansion. That should more than cover it.”
Again they bickered back and forth. Rowan grumbled a curse. Inability to cut down on that painfully long death timer was one of the few weaknesses of the dark side. They had no free resurrection methods while the light classes had several including that Mass Resurrection phoenix. Zaine apparently had a couple Resurrection Draughts in stock and had used one on Ambiguous. At the girls’ levels, without one they’d be down for at least a few days. Maybe a balance patch was needed here. What was the AI thinking?
“Very well, I’ll accept a Worker Doll minion,” Ambiguous said reached the end of her book.
Rowan inclined his head. “Found anything?”
“No, and I’m already familiar with the other book; it doesn’t mention anything about Dark Conversions.” She dropped the wrinkled leather volume into the Dragonscale Pouch at her hip. It swallowed the item cartoonishly. “It seems like a new thing Ione created recently. Maybe you’re the first to have it.”
Both awesome and disconcerting. “So Divine Intervention?
"I guess so.” Ambiguous tucked strands of hair behind her ear.
Gabrielle clicked her tongue. “It’s a gamble, but I think we have enough sacrifices here for Ione."
"Then get it done," Rowan said.
“Unfortunately, it’s an expensive ritual,” Ambiguous said. “Needs a lot of expensive and rare materials to setup. Takes four or five hours too.”
His excitement wilted. Everything they needed was rare, expensive, and time-consuming. Why couldn’t anything be cheap and quick? Like his mana-based Undead. “Right. Then get on it. I’ve got more Undead to craft.” He fetched those bone marshmallows from his robe pocket, raised his wand for a cast of Construct Minion.
“Yo,” Ambiguous snapped, “not so close.”
Gabrielle nudged his rib. “Dummy.”
Chuckling, he leaped down the clearing with a Rime Blink. The Drake’s summoning unleashed quite an outpour of tainted ice and mist—and would cause an explosion if he lacked the necessary minion slots. He checked his minion interface in case he’d misread after that last batch of Gargoyles, minimizing their skill lists.
Your Minions (4033/4920 slots used, 885 remaining)
-
[2 slots each] Raised Owlish Overseer (6): Average Level 128
[16 slots each] Raised Colossus Enforcer (1): Level 192
[2 slots each] Raised Paladin (11): Average Level 187
[2 slots each] Raised Priest (8): Average Level 187
[2 slots each] Raised Water Mage (34): Average Level 176
[2 slots each] Raised Fire Mage (2): Average Level 168
[2 slots each] Raised Lightning Mage (4): Average Level 192
[2 slots each] Raised Arcane Mage (8): Average Level 187
[2 slots each] Raised Ranger (4): Average Level 187
[2 slots each] Raised Sharpshooter (1): Level 194
[2 slots each] Raised Knifejuggler (2): Average Level 194
[2 slots each] Raised Blademaster (3): Average Level 187
[2 slots each] Raised Warrior (1): Level 198
[72 slots each] Dark-ice Drake (7): Average Level 146
[3 slots each] Dark-ice Pigeon (805): Average Level 146
[3 slots each] Dark-ice Gargoyle (310): Average Level 146
[2 slots each] Skeletal Pigeon (1): Level 146
Zaine Everlight’s Minions
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[1 slot each] Clawed Fire Imp (43): Average Level 96
[1 slot each] Fire Imp Mage (98): Average Level 108
[1 slot each] Scout Imp (24): Average Level 44
-
Zaine Everlight’s Elite Minions
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[1 elite slot] Oron Garthos (Tortured Nihil): Level 239
[1 elite slot] Cecilia Lamperouge (Tortured Nihil): Level 237
[1 elite slot] Seth (Tortured Nihil): Level 284
885 remaining. Enough for over ten additional Drakes or slightly less than three hundred Pigeons.
The slots taken by his crafted Undead were deceptive, inflated by a hefty margin. Rounded up, every two augmentations increased the slots taken by one, and the overall slot requirement seemed to be dictated a hidden algorithm that was far less generous than the one for regular Undead or Demons. Each Drake was roughly the equivalent to a much beefier but less impactful Colossus Enforcer. Such was the price of being able to summon Undead on command without corpses. Rowan could work with it. He readied the spell.
A flawless image of his Ice Drake fuzzed into clarity in his mind. With a substantial draw of mana from the spire, he incanted a four-word verse, fed his intent into the hungr
y magic, and—
The chatbox beeped, a series of short messages coming one after another with a swift pause between each. It was as though they were communicating telepathically and the chatlog was a log of their shared thoughts. SoSo Lovely and Edward Farmer. Indeed, their icons were fully saturated, black and red bows and arrows. Same class. Dark Rangers.
SoSo Lovely (Party Chat): What’s with this fog? It feels awfully antagonistic.
Edward Farmer: Are we under attack? Is the battle already over?
SoSo Lovely: The shield’s still up. I can barely examine it.
Edward Farmer: What a relief!
SoSo Lovely: Nah, I’m scared. Is that dragon on our side?
Edward Farmer: Get ready to ult it.
Rowan choked on saliva.
Rowan Black: That’s my minion, you assholes!
SoSo: On three.
Edward Farmer: Two.
Gabby LeMort: Relax. They’re just messing with ya.
Grumbling, Rowan lowered his wand and pocketed the marshmallows. Accidents couldn’t be welcomed here; someone could dash into the summoning. What were the consequences of a misplaced Blink or Puff? An explosion, likely. He blinked back to Gabrielle and stood extra close to her out of unfounded protectiveness. Something about the trolling duo. At least they weren’t batshit insane.
Not ten seconds passed before both of their silhouettes skipped near with buzzes of static noise and static visual effects characteristic of moving with extreme speed. They stopped in front of him without suffering from inertial effects.
“Heya!” Gabrielle waved. “Thought ya weren’t comin’ for a sec.”
“Did your toys say that?,” SoSo said.
Ambiguous snickered, and with strained effort, Rowan collected the raw unshaped mana in his flesh, then blasted it out in all directions. A hemisphere pocket in the mist expanded from his visage. Cold wind swelled and unveiled the duo. A pop-up alert blocked his view.
Skill tier level up (X1): Mana Mastery Passive
You have progressed at a pitiful rate. Push yourself harder.
Skill Level: 107, 7%
Skill Tier: 3
Effect: 1.57% increased Maximum mana
Tier Effect: 2% decreased mana cost of skills aligned with your mana type.
Nice. Just what he needed. He dismissed it with a mental flick and laid eyes upon the newcomers. His back straightened, muscles lashing.
They weren’t human.
Elves; twins, one male, one female, uncannily similar in appearance apart from the gender differences. Those non-human features—grayish-dark-blue skin, eyes the size of tennis balls, and the classic high-fantasy pointed ears—stared motionlessly, their statures taller but thinner than Rowan’s. Toned, slim muscles spilled through gaps in their Black Dragonhide armor reinforced with Red Dragon scales at the shoulders, hips, and other vital areas. Ornate bows peeked from behind their backs. They were living manifestations of their party icons.
Rowan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and let the air pocket recede.
“Why hasn’t he introduced himself?” Edward asked one in particular.
“Perhaps he is waiting for us,” SoSo said.
“Or he is about to attack.”
“He is a Necromancer. He can’t be sane. I wonder how many girls he has assaulted.”
“Just me,” Gabrielle quipped.
Rowan ignored that last bullshitting remark, his attention fixed on the twins. They were the type of weirdos who talked about people in the third people in their presence. Cool. Not very evil, but dark enough. What were the actual criteria for dark mana? Rowan inwardly shrugged, cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rowan Black, your World Boss leader, if you’re interesting in joining our cause.” He trailed on an Examine.
“We already pledged ourselves to Gabby,” SoSo said before the dialogs appeared.
Edward nodded. “I will be in charge of resource gathering efforts in our empire.”
“I vouch for him,” Ambiguous said. “He mined most of the stone for my mansion.”
“Good to know.” Rowan skimmed through their details, commanding the game interface to reveal exact numbers. He’d modified the party list to show percentages instead of real numbers; the change made the list less cluttered-looking.
[Player] Edward Farmer (Dusk Elf, Dark Ranger): Level 203
Health: 11,350
Mana: 4,400
Stamina: 28,900
Buffs: Ione’s Grace (Very-high Dexterity and Evasion bonus), Elven Grace (Medium-high Dexterity bonus)
[Player] SoSo Lovely (Dusk Elf, Dark Ranger): Level 203
Health: 10,720
Mana: 5,100
Stamina: 30,100
Buffs: Ione’s Grace (Very-high Dexterity and Evasion bonus), Elven Grace (Medium-high Dexterity bonus)
No Mana Shields, but it’d help them little with such puny mana pools. Evasion classes had high skill-caps and low skill-floors in Rowan’s experience; that wasn’t different in this game. And those buff lists were lacking a little something. He sliced Gabrielle a look. “Hey, turn on your support auras.”
She blinked, then smiled widely. “I can’t. Reserved almost all my mana to craft a dungeon portal key. Almost done.”
Shit. That mean she is vulnerable right now.
[T6 World Boss, Player] Gabby LeMort (Draconian, Occult Engineer): Level 211
Health: 13,400
Mana: 85,900 (99.5% reserved)
Stamina: 2,540
Buffs: Mana Shield, Disease Immune, Poison Immune, Desecrated
Oh right, she also had stat multipliers, though her mana was only magnified five-fold, which made sense. He was a summoner-DPS hybrid compared to crafter-support class, and he was catching up to her in terms of sheer power. Soon he’d be able to actually overpower her, dominate her.
“It’s kay, my worried Rowan.” She ruffled his hair. “I’m not so helpless without my mana.” She winked.
“Yeah, I know.” He brushed away her hand, their fingers touching. That ruffling better not develop into a habit.
Edward said, “They are being very… normal for darkies.”
“Too normal,” SoSo added. “Are they illusions?”
Ambiguous grinned. “Trust me, they’re real, and I really do prefer less-crazed darkies.” Her eyes bounced to the right. Her shoulders deflated. “Speaking of which…”
Gabrielle exploded with glee, covering her mouth.
“What’s happening?” Rowan looked right then left. “Tell me.” Nothing was coming… or happening at all. It didn’t look like something serious—an inside-joke.
“Oh my,” SoSo said with a mellow smirk. “I know what this means.”
“As do I.” Edward mimicked the smirk.
“Do you have it with you?”
“Indeed.” From a Black Dragonscale Pouch, he pulled out a device with a brass trumpet-like cone, a white gem at the narrow end. His hand blossomed with strands of leaf-like black and red mana. He touched the gem and made a circular gesture on its largest surface with his index finger.
Rowan squinted. “Is that a weapon?”
Music started playing. Slow-rolling, tough-guy, electric-guitar music crashed onto the gathering from all directions. No lyrics.
Rowan coughed incredulously “What the hell?” He gestured with a wild fling of his arm. “Why are you playing music? This isn’t time to celebrate. We are under siege.” This really was a group of crazed darkies.
“You’ll see,” Gabrielle quipped, still giggling. “This will be good.”
Frowning, Rowan checked his interface.
Not Insane was online. That onyx raven blinked in greeting.
On cue, a man with a face full of scars dressed in tattered black-brown leather appeared in a twist of pure dark mana, blowing back mist. He stood with balled fists, daggers out, and he grinned with real crazed eagerness. He laughed three quick breaths, then said with a hoarse, booming voice, “I’ve been waiting, Necromancer!” He sla
shed the air with a pitch blade, and a pitiful needle-like Death Bolt similar to the children’s splashed against Rowan’s shield. It dealt less than five hundred points worth, the damage healed right back up by his natural regeneration and Sazar’s ring.
Rowan would’ve retaliated if it weren’t for the negligible damage. Was that a challenge or an unique form of introduction? “Ah, Hello? I’m Rowan Black, your benevolent World Boss lea—”
“Shut up!” He swiped with the other blade. Another needle splashed. The electric guitar played on.
Rowan booted the asshole from the party and raised his wand, his consciousness brushing against every minion’s leash. He examined.
[Player] Not Insane (Human, Raven Lord): Level 216