by Arthur Stone
“Why did you have me wait so long? You could have signaled right away.”
Cheater glanced sideways at the healer. “Even bastards have the right to some last words. Maple, heal me.”
“Wh—what?” she mumbled, eyes glued to the corpses.
“I really do need a healer. I wasn’t playing make believe. Heal me up, and we can get out of here.”
“What about them?”
Either Gang was right, or the girl was in utter shock, unable to comprehend plain speech.
“You’ll never see these monsters again,” Cheater declared, clearly and calmly. “They’ll stay here, but you will move to a new region. You’ll like it there. Sorry we didn’t finish them off sooner. We didn’t know all of the details. But better late than never. It’s over now.”
Turning away from the dead bodies, the healer shook her head and said in a surprisingly clear voice, “No. Nothing is over. You don’t understand.”
“You’re wrong,” Cheater replied, somehow finding the fortitude to grin. He was apparently a mere hair’s breadth away from death.
Now was not the time to be harsh with her, though. He could afford a few moments more. And he could not compel her to heal him. Maple had just lost her former captor, and he had no intention of stepping in as her new one.
She could be free. “I don’t know much about abilities, Maple. But I know a little. You have a Death Link with Gang, if I’m not mistaken. Is that right?”
She nodded.
“I’ve read about those. Rare, and virtually useless. They work like golden pearls. But not nearly as versatile, and not profitable. If the one with the ability dies, the person bound to him also dies and respawns with him. How much time do you have left? A day?”
“Something like that. Then... then it’s all over,” Maple said, lost. She jumped out of the water. “I tried. I tried so many times. I... He... He... cut my boyfriend’s eyes out, right in front of me. Laughing while he did it. He made me watch. He made me watch everything. He’s a psycho. I didn’t know what he did to me, not at first. What have you done?”
“Can’t you terminate the link?”
“Yes, but it takes three days. I’ll respawn in his cluster before that. It’ll kill me and respawn me.”
“But then the link will still be canceled, right?” Cheater clarified.
“Yes. So what? He always forces me to stop the cancellation. He... he... I can’t... I have to do whatever he... I have to...”
Cheater knew that undesirable hysteria was imminent, and he was on the last of his strength. “Forget about him. You won’t die, I promise.”
“But how?”
“There are things about that ability which you do not know. If the owner dies, you can cross a region border, and the link will be severed. We are close to the border. We will make it across. Cancel the link right now, and in three days, you can forget about Gang entirely and forever.”
“Are you serious?” Maple doubted.
“Yes. The link between you is cheap. Fragile. It’s not a golden pearl link. It’s a hundred times less powerful. He won’t bother you anymore. I can tell you a lot more about this ability, but please help me first. I think I’m dying.”
“OK, OK, I will, hang on!”
Cheater had done it again. Another encounter, another cunning twist, another life saved. And not just his own.
Chapter 31
Life Nine. The Near East
“Good machinegun,” Beetle said as he patted the weapon. “But it needs cleaning. Badly. I wiped it a little while we were sitting in the reeds, but not enough. I’m terrified it will misfire. I just pulled a big chunk of duckweed and mud out of it.”
“Well, I crashed into the swamp with that thing, at high velocity,” Cheater explained.
“I know. I’m the one who took it off you.”
“You can keep it. It’s a gift.”
“Really?” Beetle perked up. “Wow, I’m in your debt, Cheater.”
“No, you don’t owe me anything. Here, join the party.”
“Join... join your party? Cheater’s party?”
“Yes. You’ve passed the entrance exam. You’re in.”
“Holy hell. I’m in Cheater’s party! No one will believe me. Can I take a screenshot, of myself in the party list?”
“No one can stop you,” Cheater smiled.
“Mother of... I’ll even have proof. Is it true that the girl you’re going to meet is still in your party, too?”
“Yes. She’s always been there, since my first few days on the Continent. She’s second on the list, just below me. And now, she’s not far. I hope, anyway.”
Cheater did not know how much more ground he had to cover to reach the region where his first life in the Continent had begun. The closer they drew to the border, the less reliable the maps became. But the border line to the north and south was clear enough.
It was likely only three miles away, perhaps five or six. No more than that. There were indeed no ghouls to be seen. If there had been any, the helicopter crash had drawn them away. That had occurred a mile north, among the structures and pipes of some huge factory complex. It was amazing how far the wounded bird had managed to go, seeing that they flew so low. The pilot must have been excellent. A good pick by Benz.
He had crashed, though, and that was for the best. Thankfully Cheater did not need to head that direction. Millions of ghouls could crowd around the wreckage, and he wouldn’t care.
He needed to go due east.
For the moment, he went nowhere.
He was in no condition to walk.
Maple and Beetle dragged him ashore, and all of them hid in the tall reeds. They were unable to see around them, but on the flip side, they were also unlikely to be seen. It was dubious shelter, but there was no other option nearby, and it was not a good idea to drag the wounded Cheater forward.
Healing was far from an instant process. Cheater remembered how Maple had pressed Janitor’s arm back on—and it had been hanging like a limp rag for quite some time. Then, he had been able to wiggle his fingers. Then, move his elbow. Only after some hours did it work fully again. By that point, it was almost as good as new.
Cheater’s limbs had not been torn off. He felt the wonderful sensation of healing washing over him. But his body needed time and increased nutrition to make a full recovery. Despite his lack of appetite, he ate a lot.
He was hankering to cross the border, which was now so close. March had sent an order to move towards it without waiting for the others. He had even left detailed instructions via personal chat message, explaining exactly where to go. The man promised that nothing difficult or deadly would get in their way. Since the terrain was less smooth than it could be, it would probably take them several hours.
If they were in top physical shape. Cheater could hardly crawl at the moment. Traversing such a path would take him a week.
His impatience was hard to control.
He waited. After all, it had taken him months to cross the past few regions. He could manage a delay before the last couple of miles. He had already done the impossible. No one had said he should do it. No one had believed he could. He had been mocked, doubted, and called a fool, yet he had pressed on, putting one skeptic after another to shame.
By this point, he was a living legend. He even had adoring fans of his very own. Beetle was still smiling in jubilation and adoration. He was in one of the Continent’s most famous parties.
The rest of the party had reacted to Gangrene and Goblin’s deaths with indifference, or even approval. Cheater had reported on his actions and the reasons which had prompted them in the party chat. He had informed them of their nicknames and of the deeds for which the three of them were hunted.
Of course, he could have written not a word, and he would have been okay. No one had liked the two of them. Nipple too—or Maple, as he called her now—had not yet established herself in the party. The healer had remained in the shadow of her two companions all the way. On
e had been her despot master, and the other had been responsible for the disguise: changing their nicknames, editing their IDs, and even adding some illusionary elements to her appearance. After the two of them died, the girl looked much slimmer and lighter, and had a different face. Gang had brought Bling on for just this kind of tricks.
No one cried over their absence.
Cheater had no desire to disturb the healer again unnecessarily. Let her work this out. Sometimes, a person needed to be alone with their thoughts. They couldn’t actually leave her alone, but she could pretend no one else was here.
His patience ran out by evening. “How much more do I have to wait, Maple?”
The healer was sitting motionless and staring at the waving reeds. “The longer the better. Those who do not move heal faster.”
“I know, but remember: the border. It’s in your best interest to reach it as quickly as possible.”
“Are you sure the link will be broken?” the girl wondered for the hundredth time.
“Yes.”
He was not, in fact, one hundred percent certain. After all, there might be some exception he had not read, or indeed which was not generally known. Maple’s feminine instinct had detected his doubts, and so her worry was growing.
The potential hour of reckoning was drawing near. Once the time ran out, she would be sent back to Gangrene. Losing a life and finding herself once again under the heel of the thing she feared the most... Yes, that would be depressing.
“How much time?” Cheater pressed.
“Stay lying down for at least another two hours.”
“Then I’ll be back to health?”
Maple shook her head. He strained to see it. “No, but almost. The longer between the injury and my healing, the slower the treatment works.”
“Well, two hours is okay. We’ll just have to travel in the dark. But that’s safer, to be honest.”
“They see fine in the dark,” Beetle reminded him.
“Sure, but not as well as they see during the day. Especially over long distances.”
“If it’s the Trinity we’re talking about, well, time of day and distance both are irrelevant,” the tankman sighed.
“Don’t worry about the Trinity. They haven’t shown up yet, and I think March is handling them.”
“‘Handling’ the Trinity? How?!”
“I don’t know the details, but I know March. He’s distracting the beasts somehow. Last time we crossed a border, there were no infecteds along the final stretch. There were bots, yes, but not a single infected. That surprised me at the time, sure, but now I realize it was unlikely to be chance. There are no borders without infecteds; everyone knows that.”
“I mean, it happens,” Beetle objected.
“Yes,” Cheater admitted. “Where Unnamed Ones live, there are no ghouls. I’ve seen that before. I also saw what happened to that Unnamed One. There is no such beast here, but there is the Trinity. March selected this route across the border specifically because those three beasts are here. He likes to earn extra bonuses and loot. Valuable pearls, achievements, and so on.”
“I’ve seen fifty veterans go after the Trinity, and I’ve seen fifty veterans die like flies. They didn’t last an hour here. March will follow them.”
“We’ll see about that. We’ve been here longer than an hour, you know. We’re still alive. You think that’s just luck? I know March, and I know he’s capable of that and more.”
“Alright, well, we’ll see,” Beetle nodded. “Mind if I do some pushups? I’m so bored. I’ll be quiet.”
“Working on your Strength modifier,” Cheater remarked.
“Of course. I work on everything. I lift weights, spin on the horizontal bars, run, jump, do acrobatics, box and practice kung fu—all of that. Right now, I’m into fencing,” Beetle pointed at the short scabbard on his belt. “They say it helps Reaction, Agility, and Endurance. It’s a long and laborious process, yes, but even one hundredth of a multiplier point can provide a decent stat increase. And multipliers are never reduced by dying, no matter how many deaths you suffer. Sounds solid to me. What’s your sword about, Cheater? I’ve never seen one like it.”
“It was a sword of the grays.”
“I figured. Did you collect it from a gray? Or find it somewhere?”
“Found it,” Cheater said, sparing any more details.
“It’s beautiful. Looks strong, too. The modifications on this are unbelievable. Did you find it with them already on it?”
“Not quite,” Cheater hedged before changing the subject ever so moderately. “Hey, speaking of that, I have a swordsmanship question for you. Could you give me some advice?”
“If I can. What are you wondering?”
“Well, I’m not just carrying this sword around because I like swords. When I obtained it, I got a professional Swordsman skill. Not a Continental ability. Just a new stat. Have you ever heard of that?”
“I have, but it’s a rare thing. I’ve only heard of it a couple of times. I’ve never seen it. You sure are lucky.”
“Well, that’s for sure. But even though I have this fencing stat, I can’t fence. I’m bad at it. How do I activate the skill?”
“Have you killed anyone with the sword?” Beetle asked.
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
“Uh, all kinds of things.”
“Tell me who. List them out,” the tankman continued.
“First, a gray. Then people, both infecteds and players. And a Nold.”
“The Elite Nold? The one from the global achievement?” Beetle stammered. “The whole Continent saw that.”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“You killed an Elite Nold with a sword?”
“Yes. This sword, in fact.”
“What else could you want?” Beetle asked, unable to believe his ears.
“What do you mean?”
“So you kill grays, players, infecteds, and Elite Nolds. Yet you complain that you don’t really know how to use a sword. I’m sorry, Cheater, but that sounds like a very distasteful attempt at modesty.”
“I mean, I don’t know how to fence.”
“What does that mean? Have you even thought about it?”
Beetle paused, and then understood. “Ah, I see. You’ve seen your fill of combat movies—Jumping Snake, Crawling Tiger, those kinds of things. They wave beautifully sculpted blades of metal around the screen for half an hour, without sweating or running out of breath. Skinny girls can do quadruple flips without even getting a running start and can cut a human hair in half mid-flight with a dull halberd. And not cut it across, but longways. Where a blindfolded expert sword master easily fights off a dozen ordinary sword masters. Am I right, Cheater?”
“Well, not quite. But basically. I somehow imagined it would be more technical, more calculating. Not just chopping away. If a person who really knows the fencing art approaches me, I won’t know what to do, I am afraid. He’ll hack me to death. All the tricks I try don’t really work out.”
“Of course they don’t—because there’s no such thing. There are two goals to fencing. The primary is not to get hit. The secondary: to hit the enemy. There’s no obligation to show flair. No leaping over the head of the armored enemy. All those excessive spins and swings and jumps just expend your strength, and when that runs out, you’re just prey. The man who kills you won’t care about the excellence of your form. If you’re winning, that means your fencing is fine. Still, I recommend you practice often. It won’t hurt.”
“I used this sword to chop us some cacti for a couple of days. Does that count as standard practice?”
“No,” Beetle grinned, “that’s definitely non-standard. Your sword is non-standard, too. I’ve heard of those before. It weighs more than a heavy barbell. You’ve used mods to reduce the weight, but it remains the same for the purposes of damage calculation. However the System justifies that. So you’re swinging what feels like an ordinary sword, and the enemy gets hit by what feels like
a sharpened railroad tie. A dissonance that works in your favor both ways. They say this is difficult to adapt to.”
“That’s what I mean,” Cheater nodded. “It always feels awkward.”
“You can train with me, if you want,” Beetle suggested. “It would be good for both of us. But that will just be improving something you have already received. How do I put this... Basically, you’ve received the equivalent of ten years of training. With the best masters. Then, you gave up training for a year. But you didn’t get fat or crippled or addicted to some narcotic. Your body still remembers everything. It just has to recover some of its form. That is not difficult to do, though it might take some time. Improving your mastery of something like fencing is an endless process. Practice whenever possible and you will continue growing. Sorry I can’t explain it better.”
