Grand Game 50-59 (Patreon)

Chapter 50: Behind the Locked Door

Opening the door was anticlimactic.

Turning the key in the lock, I pushed the door open and dropped into a crouch. Hidden in darkness —I had extinguished all the nearby torches—I waited for a reaction.

Nothing jumped out for me. All that lay on the other side of the door was more grey rock and dank air, at least as far as I could see. Leaving the door unlocked behind me, I cautiously ventured within the new passage. It was empty. Feeling more secure, I increased my pace as I slipped down the length of the tunnel.

Two hundred yards later, I stopped in surprise. The tunnel had come to an end, terminating in another metal door that was a near-replica of the one I had just opened. With renewed caution, I crept up to the door and tried the handle.

It was locked.

Urgh, I despaired. Have I wasted all this time for a dead end?

I bent down and inspected the lock. It bore a bluish tinge. Hmm… I wonder. Pulling out the chief’s keyring, I tried the same key I had on the previous door.

The lock turned smoothly.

Yes!

Smiling, I stepped through the door. Expecting to see only more dank tunnel, I nearly fell back in shock at the sight that greeted me.

I was in another large cavern. This one was different though. Less than ten yards in front of me, it looked like the rocky ground had been sheared off, causing the floor to fall sharply away. It was the same all along the rim of the cavern. It was as if some giant hand had hollowed out the center of the cavern to form a bowl-shaped crater—one large enough house a small village.

More surprising, the cavern was filled with soft light. The crater was carpeted with glowing mushrooms and the ceiling was dotted with thousands of luminous crystals, making it brighter in the crater than a star-filled night sky. Yet it was neither the cavern’s design, nor the lighting that had me amazed.

It was the noise.

The crater was full of people, painted stalls, and tents. I spotted elves, dwarves, humans, gnomes, and undead. A low buzz of conversation hung over the sparse crowd moving through the stalls and on the far end, I saw pavilions and marquees of all sizes and shapes.

“What is this place,” I murmured under my breath, not expecting a response.

“It must be the safe zone,” Gnat said.

I glanced at him. “The safe zone?”

He nodded. “It can’t be anything else.”

I turned back towards the crater with a stupefied look. So close. I couldn’t believe it. All this time, I had been so close to safety and never knew it. But I am here now. I’ve made it. I ran my gaze over the people in the crater below. Most were dressed in white cotton shorts and shirts, and were clearly candidates.

It seems like I am not the only one to reach this place.

But how had the other candidates made it here? They had obviously not ventured through the goblin complex. I searched the rim of the cavern with more care. The cavern’s edges were the least well-lit area, and while I didn’t spy another obvious entrance, directly opposite me I spotted a patch of blackness that looked like it could be a tunnel mouth.

My fascination with the cavern faded and caution reasserted itself. Safe zone, or not, I was not necessarily safe here. My fellow candidates could prove as dangerous as the goblins, if not more so.

I thought of Saben and his ilk. If any of them are here…

I glanced at the open door behind me. Thankfully, both it and I were shrouded in darkness, and it didn’t look like my entry into the cavern had been observed. I realized, too, that a treasure trove lay behind me, one that I had largely been unable to loot because of weight limitations. But if there were merchants in the safe zone… I smiled. I could make a tidy sum selling all the goblins’ weapons and armor—as long as the other players didn’t realize where I was getting them from.

I need to keep my manner of entry a secret, I thought and locked the door behind me. For as long as possible. I turned back to the crater.

Now, how do I get down?

~~~

After further investigations, I discovered two ramps led into the crater, one the left side of the cavern, and the other on the right. At all other points, the walls of the crater appeared unscalable.

I didn’t immediately proceed to either of the ramps though. Staying hidden, I navigated a full circuit along the rim and confirmed that my initial assessment was correct—there was indeed only one other entrance into the safe zone, the passage opposite the metal door.

Standing in the tunnel mouth, I let my concealment fade. If anyone was watching, they would assume I had arrived through the passage. I was perhaps being overly cautious with my approach, but I wasn’t about to take any unnecessary risks at this stage. With a relaxed stride, I made my way towards one of the crater’s entrances.

The moment I set foot on the top of the ramp, a Game message opened in my mind.

Congratulations, Michael, you have discovered the safe zone of sector 14,913. This location is a key point and has been added to your Logs.

Safe zones are regions of the Game where players are prevented from taking hostile action against one another. Only players and Powers may enter a safe zone.

The regulations in the safe zone are strictly enforced by the Game. Do not attempt to harm another player. You will be given only one warning, thereafter punishment will be swift and merciless.

Enjoy your stay!

I paused in my step and reread the message. There is that mention of Powers again… I opened my mouth to question Gnat about it, but the skeletal bat was flapping away. I glanced at him in surprise. “What’s going on?”

The familiar circled my head. “I cannot enter the safe zone. I will join my brethren above and rejoin you when you leave.”

Not waiting for my response, the skeletal bat shot up into the darkness. I tracked him with my gaze and saw him alight on the cavern roof, and perch upside down on it. Beside Gnat, I made out the blur of other white shapes. My eyes narrowed. The small forms were others of Gnat’s kind, more undead bats.

The familiar’s departure, while something of a surprise, made sense given the Adjudicator’s message. I turned back to the safe zone, and smiled.

It seemed that I was on my own.

Chapter 51: The Rich and the Poor

I resumed walking down the ramp, feeling a greater measure of trepidation now that I was alone. For all that I had begun to question Gnat’s motives, I had grown used to his constant presence at my side, and suddenly bereft of it, I felt slightly lost.

Stop being foolish, Michael, I scolded myself. You’re not alone. There were plentiful other candidates around to speak to. And more importantly in the safe zone, I would finally have an opportunity to allay my fears regarding Gnat’s motives—or confirm them.

I studied the safe zone more closely. The ramp led down into a wide central avenue. Market booths encroached on either side of the road. Some of the stalls were little more than open wagons parked next to the road, others were elaborate wooden constructions with roofs and walls, but without fail all the booths were boldly painted and covered with symbols.

Every stall was manned too, by merchants of all shapes, sizes, and species—each and every one of whom was presently staring at me.

My brows crinkled. Why are they looking at me like that? My eyes drifted to the figures dressed in shorts and shirts walking between the booths and my frown deepened. Something about the candidates struck me as off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Their gazes, too, were fixed on me.

Alright… I thought, realizing that I had erred in some way, and that my arrival was not going to be as unnoticed as I’d assumed. I took a cautious step off the ramp and onto the road.

No one moved. No one spoke. My thoughts churned. What was going on here? What does everyone find so fascinating about me? The merchants have already met other candidates, so it can’t be that. Why then—

My thoughts ground to a halt, as I finally realized what my brain was trying to tell me: none of the candidates had any gear. They were all in starter kit: pristine white shorts and shirts.

Where is their armor? Their weapons? Now that I had noticed the candidates’ lack of dress, I identified the emotion I saw in their eyes: avarice. Hungry gazes roved over the twin swords hanging on my hip, the pack on my back, and the cloak draped over my shoulders. I gulped. That’s not creepy at all. They look like a pack of starving dogs that have spotted supper.

If this was anywhere but a safe zone, I would’ve run. But I needed information and gear, and had gold to burn. I’m safe here, I told myself firmly, quenching the urge to flee.

Steadfastly ignoring the many eyes upon me, I approached the nearest market stall. It was one of the more elaborate ones. Its roof and side walls were painted black and embellished with pictures of a bird. A crow, I realized as I got closer. The front of the booth was a wooden counter top resting on a half-wall.

Two cloaked and hooded figures were behind the counter, manning the stall. I couldn’t see their faces, but I could feel their eyes on me. I noticed something else too. There was a haze to the air around the two merchants, almost like an aura, a feeling of death and… rot.

What in the world—? I stopped suddenly. Narrowing my eyes, I studied the shimmer around the pair. It was indistinct, and I couldn’t really be sure I was actually seeing anything. Am I imagining things? A Game message opened in my mind.

This entity bears a Mark of Minor Dark.

This entity bears a Mark of Greater Dark.

Both merchants were Marked I realized, and I was seeing their spirit signatures. Which also meant they were seeing mine. Did that account for their stares? Perhaps. But with everyone else staring at me as well, there was no way to tell.

Given everything else I had learnt of the Dark so far, I was wary of entangling myself further with those associated with it, but I was in the middle of a sector controlled by a Dark faction and couldn’t reasonably expect to avoid the Dark’s minions altogether. I sighed and resumed my approach towards the merchants.

Just as I got to the stall, I saw a flicker of movement further up the avenue. Two candidates were hurrying away, whispering furiously to each other as they headed deeper into the safe zone. The other candidates followed more slowly after the pair, and soon the road was empty but for me and the many merchants in their booths. I frowned.

Now what is that all about?

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” a voice rasped. “A live one finally.”

I turned back to the stall. The merchants were inspecting me. From under their hoods, two sets of burning red eyes studied me as if considering a curious insect.

“And Marked too,” the second noted.

“But what pathetic Marks they are,” said the first merchant.

“Should we serve him?” his companion asked.

“Hmm,” mused the first. “His Marks are lesser ones only. He can be redeemed yet.”

“But does he deserve redemption?” the second asked.

Tired of being ignored and listening to their one-sided conversation, I intervened before the other merchant could respond. “Who are you?” I asked brusquely.

There was a moment of silence as if the pair were startled by my rudeness or temerity. “We are merchants of the Awakened Dead faction,” the first said. “I am Vomer and my companion is Velath.”

“We serve the Master, boy,” Velath added. “So you best be careful in how you address us.”

I ignored the implicit threat in his tone and shifted my gaze to the pictures covering their stall. “Is the Master’s insignia a crow?” I asked, recalling that the glass chips I had been given so long ago had also born the symbol of a crow.

“It is,” Vomer said.

I studied the pair again. “Where are your familiars?” I asked.

Velath snickered. “We don’t have any. Only foolish candidates need them.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why, but I bit back the question in time. These two served the Master, I reminded myself, and it was not likely they would be forthcoming on the matter of the familiars. Better not to rouse their suspicions unnecessarily.

“You can see my Marks,” I said, stating the obvious.

“We can,” Velath said. He leaned over the counter and sniffed. “And they stink. You will do well to rid yourself of both. The Master will not take kindly to them.”

I stepped back. I was not the only one who bore a stench.

Before I could respond to Velath, Vomer reached down beneath the counter and pulled out a package swathed in black silk. “But that is why we are here: to help you find your way.” Placing the package on the counter, he unwrapped its silk covering to reveal six gold marbles. “Feast your eyes on these, candidate. “I guarantee you won’t find better in the Sector,” he finished with a trace of amusement.

My gaze dropped to the gold marbles, instantly mesmerized by the sight of them. They were Class stones.

Master Class stones.

Chapter 52: Masterful Bait

I reached out involuntarily to the Class stones, but stopped myself before I could touch them. I glanced up at the merchants. “May I?” I asked, licking my lips.

Vomer chuckled. “Go ahead and inspect them.”

“And don’t even think of stealing them,” Velath added. “The Game will consider any attempted theft a hostile action.”

Good to know, I thought absently and willed the Game to reveal more on the objects before me.

This stone contains the path of: a pestilence druid. It is a master Class that confers a player with four skills: dark magic, necromancy, earth magic, and light armor. This Class also permanently boosts your Magic attribute by: +3, and your Faith attribute by: +3. This is a Dark Class.

Master Classes grant you a free Class ability and their skills start at rank 1. Classes attuned to a specific Force—Light, Dark, or Shadow—contain alignment restrictions. All traits of a Force Class will increase in strength as your Mark advances.

A Dark Class will Mark you as a follower of the Dark and will prevent you from wielding purely shadow-based or light-based abilities.

This stone contains the path of: a nether wizard. It is a master Class that confers a player with four skills: dark magic, necromancy, fire magic, and air magic. This Class also permanently boosts your Magic attribute by: +3, and your Faith attribute by: +3. This is a Dark Class.

This stone contains the path of: a death cleric. It is a master Class that confers a player with four skills: dark magic, necromancy, medium armor, and a medium weapon skill of the player’s choice. This Class also permanently boosts your Faith attribute by: +3, and your Constitution attribute by: +3. This is a Dark Class.

This stone contains the path of: a dark paladin. It is a master Class that confers a player with four skills: dark magic, heavy shields, heavy armor, and a heavy weapon skill of the player’s choice. This Class also permanently boosts your Faith attribute by: +2, your Strength by: +2, and your Constitution attribute by: +2. This is a Dark Class.

This stone contains the path of: a vile monk. It is a master Class that confers a player with four skills: dark magic, necromancy, chi, and telekinesis. This Class also permanently boosts your Faith attribute by: +3, and your Mind attribute by: +3. This is a Dark Class.

This stone contains the path of: a cult assassin. It is a master Class that confers a player with four skills: dark magic, necromancy, poisoning, and thieving. This Class also permanently boosts your Faith attribute by: +3, and your Dexterity attribute by: +3. This is a Dark Class.

I whistled soundlessly as I digested the information provided by the Game. All six Classes provided a host of benefits. In particular, the skills provided by the path of the pestilence druid, nether wizard, and cult assassin appealed to me.

Any one of the three Classes would nicely complement my existing skills, and ordinarily I would not have hesitated to purchase them—if not for the Classes other so-called ‘benefits.’

The common thread running between the six Classes had not escaped my notice. All were considered Dark Classes. I read the line that had given me pause again: ‘A Dark Class will Mark you as a follower of the Dark.’ It made me wonder at the true purpose behind the merchants’ offerings.

Before I could question them further on it though, another Game message opened in my mind.

Your task: Escape the Dungeon has been updated. You have discovered a means of using the sector 14,913 exit portal. Revised objective: Adopt a Dark Class, or otherwise use the sector 14,913 exit portal. This task and the task: Find your own way out, are mutually exclusive.

So, I thought, ruminating over the latest Game message. It made clear that by adopting a Dark Class, I would become Marked by the Dark. I glanced up at the Vomer. “Are these the only Classes you have?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

I had suspected that to be the case. “How much are they?”

“One gold each,” the merchant replied.

My eyes widened. Only one gold? I couldn’t claim to be an expert on prices in the Forever Kingdom, but that sounded dirt cheap for a master Class stone, and it only heightened my suspicions.

Mistaking my expression, Vomer added hastily, “Our prices are open to negotiation of course. If you don’t have that much, perhaps we can come to some other agreement.”

Velath scrutinized me closely. “How much do you have? We aren’t running a charity here.”

I stayed silent. I was tempted by the merchants’ offer. With any of the six Classes, I could fill my one open Class slot, obtain the magic I desired, and obtain the Mark of the Dark I needed to escape the dungeon.

But I was too wary to do that, not without further investigations. “I’m not yet ready to buy,” I said to Vomer, making no attempt to disguise the regret in my voice. “Perhaps later.”

“Of course,” the merchant replied, sweeping the Class stones off the counter. “Browse the other merchants’ wares if you wish. I promise none of them will have anything comparable.”

My heart sank. Somehow, I didn’t think Vomer was lying.

“Junk,” Velath growled. “That’s all you will find at the rabbles’ stalls.”

Ignoring Velath’s interjection, I ran my gaze over the rest of their stock. There were multiple other objects stored on the shelves. I turned back to Vomer. “What else do you have for sale?”

“Unfortunately,” the merchant replied, following my gaze, “those items are only available for those sworn to the Dark. Perhaps if you purchase a Class stone, we can be persuaded to sell you something else.” He paused. “A discount wouldn’t be out of the question either.”

I coughed to cover my reaction. Vomer was doing a good job of sweetening the bait. I better get out of here before I give way to temptation, I thought. “I’ll consider it,” I promised the merchant and turned away, but paused halfway as something else occurred to me.

“What are you?” I asked swinging back to the merchant.

“What do you mean?” Vomer asked, sounding confused.

“I mean what species are you?” I gestured to his hood. “I can’t tell with that hiding your face.”

“Ah,” the merchant replied and pulled back his hood to reveal a corpse-pale face, red eyes, and a pair of elongated fangs in a grinning mouth. “We are vampires, of course.”

~~~

I beat a hasty retreat after that.

Standing in the center of the avenue, I studied the other stalls. The merchants at them were all watching me, but none beckoned to me or attempted to attract my attention in any manner. Strange sort of merchants, I thought.

No candidates were in sight either. Wherever they had disappeared to, none had returned. I considered the stalls again. Most were painted black, and a small number were colored in various shades of grey. Nearly half of the booths proudly displayed the symbol of a crow. All those that did were black-colored, I noted.

Do the colors signify anything? I wondered.

Perhaps it indicated the alignment of the stall owners. The more I learnt of the Game, the more I realized the importance of its three driving Forces: Light, Dark, and Shadow. The Adjudicator, I recalled, had mentioned the Forces during my welcome message, but since then, I had barely encountered any mention of them—that is until I obtained my Marks. Now I saw their influence everywhere.

Reminded of my Marks, I looked more closely at the vendors themselves. The air around each shimmered suggestively as I focused on them. They are all Marked, I realized.

One by one, I read the Marks of each merchant, and quickly reached the conclusion that my surmise had been correct: the colors of the booths did indicate their owner’s allegiance. Of the ten merchants I could see, nine bore a Mark of Dark. A few—those with grey colored stalls—also carried a Mark of Shadow.

No merchant bore a Mark of Light.

And only one vendor didn’t carry any Marks of Dark at all. Following some half-understood instinct, I made my way to the merchant in question’s stall.

Chapter 53: The Nature of Forces

The merchant I approached was elven, a swarthy male with silver hair and storm-grey eyes. A dark elf? His hair was neatly plaited and reached down to his waist. He was dressed in a tailored suit, with each piece dyed a different shade of grey. As I drew closer, I studied his Marks again.

This entity bears a Mark of Greater Shadow, and the Mark of an Under-dweller.

The first Mark was easy enough to interpret. The second less so, but it didn’t obviously denote allegiance to the Dark and for the time being I was assuming the merchant was not allied with the Master.

The dark elf’s booth was also the smallest. It was a wagon with boarded up sides and top, and a single tiny window from which the merchant looked out. When it became clear I was heading his way, the dark elf disappeared from the window frame and a second later stood outside his wagon to greet me.

“Greetings player,” the merchant said, executing an elaborate bow. “Welcome to the central branch of the Hamish and Spuren Trading Company. How may Hamish serve you today?” His eyes twinkled merrily and his face was split in a broad grin.

I paused, taken aback by the elf’s extravagant welcome. Since entering the Game, I had not encountered such a… jubilant and merry individual, and in this bleak underworld, I had a hard time believing that he was truly as he appeared to be.

“Uh… uhm, are you Hamish?” I asked, not sure if he had introduced himself in the third person, or whether he was referring to someone else.

“I am, indeed,” he said, beaming. “And if I may, what is your name my splendid fellow?”

“Michael,” I said. “And I am not a player. Not yet anyway.”

“Oh, but—” Hamish broke off, his eyes darting momentarily sideways. The other merchants were watching closely, I saw. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my friend,” the dark elf continued blithely, making no attempt to explain his bitten off words. “What can I do for you?”

“You are a merchant?”

“Of course! Would you like to see my wares?”

“Please.”

“Then come around, fine sir. I assure you I stock only goods of the best quality.”

Uh-huh, I thought, not buying his whole salesman spiel. Hamish led me around the other side of his wagon, and coincidently out of sight of the other merchants. Was that deliberate?

But there was no change in the merchant’s demeanor as he addressed me again. “Now, what may I interest you in?” Hamish asked, eagerly rubbing his hands together.

The wooden panels on this side of the wagon had been taken down, exposing the shelves inside. They were stacked to the brim with an assortment of objects: weapons, armor, jewelry, and books. A bedroll had been spread out on the floor of the wagon, and I spied a small travelling stove too. It appeared that not only was the wagon Hamish’s shop, it was his living quarters as well.

“Can I see the Class stones you have available?” I asked.

Hamish hung his head. “Alas, I can’t sell you any Class stones.”

“Why not?” I asked, more sharply than I intended.

The dark elf winced. “Only merchants from Ere— err… I mean the Master’s own faction are permitted to sell Class stones in this sector.”

I stared at him in consternation. “But isn’t this a safe zone? How can the Master—or anyone for that matter—stop you from selling what you want?”

The merchant chuckled weakly. “Ah, to be young again and ignorant in the ways of the world.” Seeing my frown, he added, “Technically, you are correct young man. I can sell whatever I wish, but I—and every other merchant—must still travel between the safe zones to peddle our wares. If I sell you a Class stone, or break any of the Master’s other rules, I will earn his ire.” He shuddered. “And I assure you, you don’t want the Master for an enemy.”

I sighed, better understanding Vomer’s earlier certainty now. I thought for a second before speaking again. “Alright, maybe you can’t sell me any Class stones, but perhaps you can answer a question about them?”

Hamish bit his lips, but didn’t reply.

“Surely answering a question doesn’t break any of the Master’s rules?”

Still the merchant hesitated.

“I promise to buy something from you if you do,” I said, a wheedling tone entering my voice.

The dark elf finally wavered. “Go ahead then. Ask your question.”

I smiled in relief. “What does it mean for a Class to be aligned with a Force?”

Hamish drew his brows together. “I’m not sure I take your meaning.”

I looked around furtively. No one was nearby, but I still lowered my voice. “What I want to know is why are the Master’s merchants so eager to sell me a Dark Class.”

“Ah,” Hamish said, his expression falling. “Answering that question comes perilously close to breaking one of the Master’s rules.” He sighed heavily. “But you did promise to buy something.” He paused, glancing at me suspiciously.

“I will,” I confirmed.

“Nothing cheap?” he pushed.

“Nothing cheap,” I promised, even though I had no idea what constituted cheap.

Hamish sighed again, but didn’t back out of our deal. “Very well. Force Classes come with a host of both restrictions and benefits over standard Classes, although it is widely believed that the benefits outweigh their restrictions.” Hamish paused. “The one characteristic that all Force Classes have in common is that over time they increase the player’s affinity with his chosen Force to the detriment of his other Marks. It is why they are popular.”

I rubbed at my chin as I considered the merchant’s words. “So, if I adopt a Dark aligned Class, it will reduce my affinity for Light and Shadow?

Hamish nodded. “Correct. Not only that, over time the Dark Mark will erase the other Marks from you altogether. This is the primary reason why players take on an aligned Class: to keep their allegiance to their chosen Force true and unsullied. If you choose a dark-aligned Class it doesn’t necessarily guarantee that you will become sworn to the Dark, but to rise in the ranks of any other Force will be incredibly hard—if not impossible.”

My brows crinkled in thought. “But why would anyone want to join any of the Forces? Why not remain neutral?”

“Ah, that is a much larger question,” Hamish said with a chuckle. “And one I am not well-placed to answer. Suffice to say, that to stand aside from the Forces is impossible.” The merchant’s smile returned and he clapped his hands together. “Now I have kept my end of the bargain. Will you keep yours?”

Reluctantly, I nodded.

Chapter 54: The Grey Merchant’s Wares

I spent a moment considering what to spend my money on: equipment, consumables, skills, or abilities.

Skills are my first priority, I decided. They required time to train, and unlike consumables and equipment couldn’t be lost if I died. Next would be abilities. Only once I had a good mix of both, would I turn to my gear.

“Show me your skillbooks,” I said.

“Coming right up,” Hamish said and scurried back into the wagon. He returned almost immediately and held out his finds to me, bobbing excitedly up and down as I inspected them.

I took the proffered skillbooks. Disappointingly, there were only three. They covered the skills of light armor, longswords, and air magic.

“These are the only ones you have?” I asked. Of the three, only light armor was useable to me, and I had four skill slots to fill. I had been hoping for better.

Unaware of the unhappy direction of my thoughts, Hamish simply nodded in response. Dejected, I bowed my head to consider the skillbooks again.

“Of course,” Hamish added after a moment, “these three are only samples. I can get whatever you want.”

I lifted my head to stare blankly at him. “Huh?”

“I am a merchant, you know,” Hamish said with a twinkle in his eyes. I still didn’t take his meaning.

The dark elf’s smile faded. “You do know what being a merchant means, don’t you?”

I shook my head mutely.

“How did you manage to get to level eighteen and still not know these things?” Hamish asked disbelievingly.

I blinked. “You know my level?”

“Of course, I do!” he exclaimed. “I analyzed you.”

Something else occurred to me. “Hamish,” I asked slowly, “are you a player?”

The merchant looked at me strangely. “Did you not get a message when you entered the safe zone? Only players and Powers may enter its borders.”

“Uh, right,” I said, my face reddening. I recognized the look Hamish was giving me now. He thinks I’m an idiot. With good cause too. I shouldn’t have forgotten something so simple.

I sighed. “I’m sorry, Hamish. Please excuse my ignorance. I should have realized you and the other merchants are players. If you don’t mind, can you explain how you will get more skillbooks?”

The dark elf grinned. “Of course, anything for a customer!”

I smiled wanly. “Thanks.”

“I have the merchant Class,” Hamish began, “which means I can access the sector containing the Nexus from anywhere in the Forever Kingdom.” He paused. “Do you know what the Nexus is?”

I nodded, relieved that I wasn’t wholly ignorant.

“Good,” he replied. “That make the explanation easier. Simply put, I contact my partner in the Nexus, he buys what I need, and sends it back to me.”

“How though?” I asked, intrigued.

“Aether magic,” he replied simply.

“Aether magic?”

“It’s a form of non-combative magic used primarily for long distance communications, and transporting goods and people across the aether,” Hamish explained. “Only a few Classes have access to the skill.”

“Interesting,” I murmured. “How long does it take to send something through the aether?”

“The transfer itself is instantaneous. The only delay experienced is a result of the spell casting time,” Hamish answered. “Which depending on the distance involved and the mass being moved, can be anywhere between five minutes and one day.”

“Huh,” I said, impressed. “So you can get any item I need?” I asked, getting back to the matter of the skillbooks.

“Well… I might have exaggerated slightly,” Hamish said, looking sheepish, “but I can certainly source anything within reason.”

I smiled at the merchant’s qualification. The dark elf looked at me expectantly. “So what do you want?”

I scratched at my chin. When it came right down to it, I really didn’t know enough to make a choice from an unknown set of options. I had been assuming I would be presented with a limited range to choose from.  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Can you take me through the options?”

Hamish’s face did not show the slightest concern, despite the scale of my request. “Of course, anything for a customer!”

~~~

Things worked out simpler than I expected.

Hamish had a slim leather-bound book, proudly titled: ‘Hamish and Spuren Trading Company Catalog of Skills and Abilities.’ The catalog laid out every skill and ability, Hamish and his partner were able to provide. The moment my eyes fell on the book in the merchant’s hands, I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing it and burying my nose within its pages.

The catalog was a treasure trove of information. While the book did not contain detailed descriptions, it provided me with what I desperately sought: an understanding of the bigger picture, at least as it related to skills and abilities. For a newbie like me, the slim volume was worth its weight in gold.

“How much for the catalog?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from book for a second.

Hamish stared at me, his face a comical mix of humor and disbelief. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“It’s free.” He paused. “For paying customers.”

“Thanks!” With a pleased smile, I dived back into the book and scanned through the catalog, which was admirably sorted and cross-indexed. Picking a few items at random, I perused their information in more detail.

Water magic skillbook. Governing attribute: Magic. Tier: advanced. Cost: 5 gold.

Focus skillbook. Governing attribute: Constitution. Tier: basic. Cost: 2 gold.

Poison dart spellbook. Governing attribute: Mind. Tier: basic. Cost: 5 gold. Requirement: rank 0 earth magic.

Fireball spellbook. Governing attribute: Mind. Tier: advanced. Cost: 10 gold. Requirement: rank 5 fire magic.

The prices caused some of my good humor to evaporate, but I didn’t stop flipping through the catalog.

It turned out that what Hamish actually meant by ‘within reason’ were primarily basic and advanced tier skills and abilities. The catalog did contain a few master tier ones, but for the most part, the cost put them out of reach. It did make me curious, though, about their grading.

“What separates master tier skills from basic and advanced ones?” I asked.

“When it comes to skills, rarity is the differentiator,” Hamish replied. “Master tier skills are not necessarily better than basic ones, but they are harder to find.”

“And abilities?”

“Abilities are a different matter entirely. A higher tier ability is always better than a lower one, but they come with higher skill requirements. But for a new player like yourself that is all immaterial. You will only be able to use basic abilities.”

I nodded thoughtfully. Something else was puzzling me. “Why are the abilities so much more expensive than skills? Considering skills are more valuable, I would have expected the reverse.”

Hamish chuckled. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But its all about supply and demand. Players are always searching for more abilities—even basic ones—but conversely, once their class configurations are completed, players almost never need new skills.”

“I see,” I murmured and returned to scanning through the catalog. One other thing quickly became clear: I did not have nearly enough money to buy all the skills and abilities I desired. I needed more money, and there was only one way to get it.

I closed the book with a snap and turned back to the merchant. “Before we go any further, I must know: do you buy as well as sell?”

Hamish grinned. “Of course. I will take any trinkets you do not need of your hands.”

“Perfect,” I said. Emptying my backpack, I laid all the items I was willing to part with on the floor. “So how much will you give me for these?”

Chapter 55: Buying and Selling

We haggled for what felt like hours, but in reality was no more than a few minutes. Despite his genial manner, Hamish was relentless when it came to pricing, and in spite of every argument I made, he was only willing to buy my items at fifty percent of the selling prices.

In the end, I sold my superfluous items for more than I expected, but less than I hoped.

Items sold

1 summon lesser wight spellbook for 5 gold,

1 heavy shields skillbook for 1 gold,

1 archer Class stone for 1 gold,

1 rogue Class stone for 1 gold,

2 goblin shortbows for 1 silver each,

2 iron daggers for 1 silver each, and

8 empty potion flasks for 1 copper each.

You have received: 8 gold, 4 silvers, and 8 coppers. Total money carried: 16 gold, 2 silvers, and 1 copper.

I was unsurprised to find that Hamish valued my two basic Class stones at the same price as skillbooks of the same tier. It was to be expected given that demand for them would be low.

I was more surprised to find that Gnat’s information on potions proved accurate. The merchant was almost comically eager to get his hands on my healing potions, offering me as much as two golds for the least of them, which I guessed put their relative value in perspective. I refused of course. At this stage, the potions were too critical to my survival.

With my items sold, came the next step: deciding what to buy. This was a considerably more difficult task. I had about sixteen golds in my pocket, and by my rough estimate, I could gain at least fifteen more by selling the arms and armor of the seventy or so corpses in the goblin tunnel-complex—and that was ignoring what the chief’s own equipment would bring in.

So, I have at least thirty-one gold to play with. What should I get?

~~~

I spent the next hour picking Hamish’s brain on a range of skills and abilities. After seeing my gold, the merchant didn’t seem to mind my questions and answered each with a smile.

In the end, I shortlisted four skills for further consideration.

Insight skillbook. Governing attribute: Perception. Tier: basic. Cost: 2 gold.

Light armor skillbook. Governing attribute: Constitution. Tier: basic. Cost: 2 gold.

Thieving skillbook. Governing attribute: Dexterity. Tier: basic. Cost: 2 gold.

Deception skillbook. Governing attribute: Perception. Tier: master. Cost: 20 gold.

Light armor was necessary for defense, something which I had been sorely lacking up to this point. Thieving and insight were primarily non-combat skills, however both were essential if I was going to spend more time in the dungeon.

Thieving was required to disarm those pesky traps, while insight was necessary to spot them in the first place. Not to mention, that once I levelled up insight sufficiently, it would allow me to identify weaknesses in my foes before engaging them.

Deception was the outlier. It was not a skill essential to my survival in the immediate future, but in the long term, I was guessing it would prove invaluable. The skill was a mirror of the insight skill, and allowed me to conceal my own weaknesses from others. My only concern with it related to its cost. A master tier skill, it was expensive.

Before deciding on my skills, I created a similar shortlist of the abilities I desired. This was even harder than I expected. There were many abilities and spells I could do with, but I simply didn’t have the money for them.

There was another important consideration when it came to spells: their somatic and verbal components. Many spells seemed to require some sort of hand gesture or chant, and while I did not entirely rule out such spells, for obvious reasons I was reluctant to purchase them at this stage.

In battle, my hands would not be free for spellcasting, nor would I be able to chant spells when hidden. In hindsight, I realized, I had been fortunate that my one and only spell, simple charm, had no somatic or vocal components.

But even after stripping down the list to the bare minimum—to abilities I felt I simply couldn’t do without and that suited my combat style—there were still seven on my shortlist.

Minor backstab ability tome. Governing attribute: Dexterity. Tier: basic. Cost: 5 gold. Requirement: rank 1 sneaking and light weapon skill.

Basic analyze ability tome. Governing attribute: Perception. Tier: basic. Cost: 5 gold. Requirement: rank 0 insight.

One-step spellbook. Governing attribute: Mind. Tier: basic. Cost: 5 gold. Requirement: rank 0 telekinesis.

Stunning slap spellbook. Governing attribute: Mind. Tier: basic. Cost: 5 gold. Requirement: rank 0 chi.

Lesser trap detect ability tome. Governing attribute: Perception. Tier: basic. Cost: 5 gold. Requirement: rank 1 insight.

Basic trap disarm ability tome. Governing attribute: Dexterity. Tier: basic. Cost: 5 gold. Requirement: rank 0 thieving.

Simple lockpicking ability tome. Governing attribute: Dexterity. Tier: basic. Cost: 5 gold. Requirement: rank 0 thieving.

It turned out that the biggest disadvantage of Magic, Mind, and Faith skills were that most of them couldn’t be trained with simple physical actions—like wielding a sword for instance. Instead the skills had to be advanced by casting spells. This made their training slower, more difficult—and of course, more expensive.

To improve my telekinesis and chi skills, I had to have an ability from each of their skill trees, though, my choices were limited to those with rank zero skill requirements.

My need for the trap detect, lockpicking, and trap disarm abilities was obvious: they were required for safely opening loot chests. And given my penchant for sneaking up on my foes, backstab was an essential combat ability.

All this left me in a quandary.

Even after going through my shortlist for a second and third time, I was certain I needed all seven abilities. But I didn’t have nearly enough money for that. To purchase the seven abilities and four skills, I needed sixty-one golds. Even if I reluctantly left out the deception skill, I still needed a whopping forty-one golds.

That’s still way out of my reach.

Should I sell my health potions? No, that wasn’t a good option. Bowing my head, I wracked my mind for a solution.

Seeing me agonizing over my options, Hamish interrupted me tentatively. “I don’t normally like interfering with a customer’s choices, but you seem in need of assistance. Can I help in any way?”

I raised my head and studied the merchant. So far, he had been more helpful than I had any right to expect, and I had no hesitation explaining my dilemma to him.

Hamish listened patiently. But when I was done, rather than speak his mind, the merchant bit his lip and refrained from saying anything.

I frowned. “You have something to say, I can tell. What is it?”

Hamish pressed his hands together. “It’s not my place—”

“Share your thoughts. Please,” I said, interrupting him. “I could do with the advice.”

Hamish sighed. “Alright. It seems to me from everything you’ve told me that the two thieving abilities are unnecessary.”

“Really?” I asked, my brows shooting upwards. “How will I disarm and unlock loot chests then?”

It was Hamish’s turn to evince surprise. “Loot chests are never locked.” He paused. “Or trapped.”

I gaped at him. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” he said without the slightest hesitation. “Loot chests are direct rewards from the Adjudicator for something you’ve already done. In terms of the Game’s rules it makes no sense to boobytrap them.”

“But-but…” I was confused, and despite the dark elf’s obvious conviction, I was uncertain how far to believe him. “Are you saying chests in a dungeon are never trapped?”

“I did not say that,” he said primly. “Loot chests are never boobytrapped, but other chests you find may be.” Seeing me about to protest, he held up a hand for patience. “I know what you are about to ask: how do you tell a loot chest from an ordinary one?”

I nodded.

“The general rule of thumb for dungeoneers is if you see a chest before an encounter, it’s been placed there either by the faction controlling the sector, or the denizens of the dungeon itself, in which case you should assume the worst. But if you notice a chest appear only after an encounter, then it is the doing of the Adjudicator, and you need not fear any traps.”

“I see,” I said quietly. Having listened to Hamish’s patient explanation, I no longer doubted him. It fit with what I knew. It had struck me as odd that of all the many chests I had run across thus far, only one had been boobytrapped. Now I knew why. That chest had likely been placed there by the Master as part of his challenge.

Something Gnat must have known.

Which meant my familiar had lied to me. Or at the very least, he hadn’t been completely truthful about the nature of the dungeon’s traps. It was not a large deceit. But it was an untruth, and added more weight to the words, Aira had whispered to me: Don’t trust him.

“Michael?” Hamish interrupted. “Is everything all right?”

I shook my head to clear it of my worries. I would have deal with the issue of Gnat later. “It is,” I said, turning back to the merchant. “Thank you for the advice.”

Closing my eyes, I considered the matter of my skills and abilities again. If I left out both thieving abilities and the deception skill, I should have enough money to purchase the rest of the skills and abilities I needed, buying half now, and the rest after I hauled the goblin loot back to Hamish.

I opened my eyes. “I’m ready to make my purchases now.”

Chapter 56: The Nightstalker

My first priority was acquiring the skills I needed and they were cheap—mostly. I still thought the thieving skill necessary to my build despite not urgently needing the trap disarm and lockpicking abilities, and I didn’t hesitate in purchasing it along with the other skillbooks I required.

You have bought an insight skillbook, light armor skillbook, and thieving skillbook.

The basic analyze ability was a priority, and I didn’t have to think too hard about buying it. For my second ability tome, it was a toss-up between one of the two spells required to train my psi skills. In the end, I went with stunning slap because it was more directly combat-orientated than one-step.

You have bought a basic analyze ability tome, and a stunning slap spellbook.

You have lost: 16 golds. Total money carried: 0 golds, 2 silvers, and 1 copper.

“Excellent!” Hamish said, rubbing his hands in glee once our transaction was complete. “You’ve been a fantastic customer. Now is there anything else I can do for you?”

I chuckled. “I plan on being back again soon to complete my purchases, but first—” I looked eagerly at the books in my hands—“I have to learn all this.”

Opening the first skillbook, I began reading.

You have acquired the basic skill: insight. This skill allows you to analyze your environment and opponents, to detect anomalies and weaknesses. You have 1 of 6 psionic Class skill slots remaining.

I blinked, allowing the new knowledge to soak into me before turning to the next skillbook: light armor. However, light armor was a constitution-based skill and I needed to increase the attribute to at least the first rank before learning the skill.

Your Constitution has increased to rank 1. Your level cap for constitution-based skills has increased to: 10.

You have acquired the basic skill: light armor. You may now use light armor during combat. All armor penalizes Magic and Dexterity. As you increase your skill, the penalties you incur will be reduced. You have 1 of 6 scout Class skill slots remaining.

The skill settled into me, and I opened the last skillbook.

You have acquired the basic skill: thieving. Thieving is a non-combat skill that increases your ability to perform nefarious activities such as lockpicking, pickpocketing, and setting and disarming traps. You have 0 of scout 6 Class skill slots remaining.

About to open one of the ability tomes, I paused as another Game message unfurled in my mind.

Congratulations, Michael! You have fully configured your first Class. Based on your choice of skills, acquired traits, and actions to this point, you have the option to evolve your scout Class.

Do you wish to change this Class to that of a nightstalker? Note, none of your existing skills, or characteristics will be lost through your Class evolution.

“Wow!” I exclaimed, nearly stumbling back and dropping the ability tomes still in my hands at the surprising Game message.

“What’s wrong?” Hamish asked anxiously. “Was there something wrong with the skillbooks?”

Excitement overrode my caution, and before I could think to stop myself, I said, “No, nothing like that. I’ve been offered a Class evolution!”

Hamish’s stance relaxed. “Ah, congratulations are in order then.” He looked around to confirm no one else was nearby and lowered his voice. “But be careful to whom you say that. It may earn you unwanted attention.”

My face reddened, embarrassed by my loose tongue. Then what the dark elf said penetrated. “What do you mean by that? And did you know that was going to happen?”

The merchant shook his head. “Class evolutions are a known phenomenon, but they are rare.” He clapped a hand to my shoulder. “Well done. You’re one of the lucky few to experience it.”

“So… it’s a good thing?”

“Definitely,” the merchant said with a vigorous nod of his head. “But,” he admitted a moment later, “it will attract the notice of high-level players. Class evolutions have been a mystery that even after millennia, no one has been able to crack. There is no rhyme or reason to them, at least not that anyone has been able to figure out. The just seem to happen according to the Adjudicator’s whim. That hasn’t stopped hordes of players from trying to evolve their Classes though. If one of them hears about your evolution, believe me, they won’t stop pestering you.”

I scratched my head, perturbed, and more than a little bewildered by Hamish’s response. I certainly didn’t want to attract the attention of high-levelled players—nothing good could come of that I knew— but…

But how can I reject a rare chance to evolve my Class?

All this assumed the merchant was being truthful with me, of course. But I had no reason to doubt him. Still, I wished there was someone else I could ask about this. I smiled wryly. Even Gnat would be welcome right now.

I reread the message, looking for some clue as to what a Class evolution would entail. A nightstalker, I mused. What sort of Class is that? The Game message didn’t give away much, other than the Adjudicator’s offer seemed to be related to my past actions. Hmm…

I glanced at the patiently waiting merchant. This time, I knew better than to reveal any more to Hamish. If Class evolutions were rare, then knowledge of my new Class was not something I wanted to spread about.

Closing my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose and pondered my choice for a moment. Besides, the potential danger of attracting attention, I could see no downside with acquiring the new Class. The Game message did say I would retain all my existing skills.

Shrugging, I willed my response to the Game.

Your Class has evolved! You are now a nightstalker!

The nightstalker is a path that can only be walked by those with an affinity for the night, and who are gifted with a Wolf Mark. The Class bestows you with lupine traits that further enhance your ability to function in the dark and hunt your prey. This Class will deepen your Wolf Mark.

Your Class base trait has changed from nimble to wolven. The path of the nightstalker is closely intertwined with that of wolfkind. By virtue of the path you have chosen to walk, the blood of a wolf now flows in your veins. The further you advance this Class, the more wolflike you will become. Your Dexterity is increased by: +2 ranks, and your Strength by: +2 ranks.

Your evolved Class has granted you the trait: nocturnal. The nightstalker lives and breathes in the dark. It is his natural habitat. Your sight has been adapted to suit your new calling. You can see perfectly in the dark now.

I took my time processing the avalanche of Game information prompted by my Class evolution. Once I was sure I understood everything, I opened my player profile.

My brows drew down in consternation. Except for the changes to my traits, little had changed about my player data. Well, my Class sounded much cooler now, my strength had been boosted a little, and I could see perfectly in the dark.

But besides from that? Nothing.

While my new night vision was great, I couldn’t see it being something veteran players would get excited about. Why all the fuss over evolutions then? I wondered. But the Game messages did hint that other benefits would be received further down the line. Perhaps, that’s it. Setting aside the mystery, I turned back to Hamish. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Now why don’t you go ahead and learn those spells. I can see you are eager to do so.”

I grinned, reminded of the books still in my hand. Flipping open the first, I did as Hamish bade.

You have acquired the basic ability: basic analyze. This ability allows you to inspect your foes for strengths and weakness. Beware, some targets may sense when this ability is used upon them. The success of this ability is determined by the target’s level and deception skill. This ability consumes no energy, and can be upgraded. Its activation time is near-instantaneous. You have 7 of 8 Perception ability slots remaining.

You have acquired the basic spell: stunning slap. This is a touch-based ability that stuns your foe for 1 second. This ability can only be activated when your hand is in physical contact with the target. The effects of this ability may be overcome by physical resistance. This ability consumes psi. Its activation time is fast. You have 2 of 4 Mind ability slots remaining.

Knowledge of the two abilities seeped into my mind. Stunning slap excited me especially. From what Hamish had told me, the ability was a staple of monks and other unarmed fighters.

A one second stun didn’t sound like much, but it would let me get off at least one hit unopposed on my target, and once I could perform coordinated maneuvers between stunning slap and backstab…

I could stun-lock a target while dealing huge swaths of damage. Of course, I would have to fight single-handed when using the ability and the stamina drain was said to be significant, but some pitfalls couldn’t be avoided.

“All done?” Hamish.

“All done,” I confirmed. I shook the dark elf’s hand. “Thank you for everything. Now, I must be off, but I expect to return shortly. Will you still be here?”

“I will be here for the next couple of days at least,” Hamish said. “I can’t afford to leave yet. Business has been slow—who am I kidding?—business has been atrocious. You are my first customer in this sector.”

About to walk away, I paused. “Really?”

The merchant nodded glumly. “I assure you it’s not because of any lack on my part. My goods are of the finest quality.”

I pursed my lips. “I only counted nine other merchants here. Surely at least some of the candidates must have visited you before this?”

Hamish wrangled his hands as some of his distress leaked through. “There are aplenty players around. Sadly though, you are the first player to arrive in the safe zone with money in his pocket. If things keep up like this, I fear I will have to return home in abject failure.” His smile brightened slightly. “But you’ve given me renewed hope that things will turn around.”

“Glad to help,” I murmured, and bade him farewell. Turning around, I walked slowly away. I found Hamish’s news both concerning and puzzling, and a frown marred my face.

What did it mean, I wondered, that no other players had made it to the safe zone alive? And if they only reached here through resurrection, why would they choose to remain?

Chapter 57: An Army of Noobs

My head was bowed and my thoughts were preoccupied with the news Hamish just shared, which was why I didn’t notice the obstacle in front of me until too late.

I bounced into something hard, and not very pliable. Ooof. I staggered backwards and regained my balance.

“Look at me scum,” someone ordered.

I raised my head. I was surrounded, encircled by a ring of candidates. There were lots more than I had seen earlier too. An easy five dozen of them in a close-knit mob around me.

I pivoted in a slow circle, scrutinizing the candidates carefully. Every single one of them was in newbie gear. Hamish was right. No way this bunch has more than a copper between them.

“Hey! I’m talking to you.”

I ignored the speaker again, and took in the crowd’s measure. They seemed angry. Fists were clenched. Some were scowling. Others muttered. The candidates were ready to commit violence. I frowned. But this is a safe zone. What would make them attempt that?

A massive hand dropped onto my shoulder and spun me around. “Don’t ignore me little man, or you’ll regret it,” the voice growled.

I followed the hand upwards to the owner, finally giving the speaker my attention. “Oh?” I said carelessly. “And why is that?”

My response appeared to momentarily confound the candidate who had addressed me. She was a giant. Literally. Twice my own height, she had to hunch over to even set her palm on my shoulder. Her skin was tinged orange and her hair appeared to be strands of burnished gold. Altogether she made for a striking figure.

Like the others, the giantess was dressed only in a white cotton shirt and shorts. On her, they looked laughably tiny and bulged at the seams. Looks like someone issued her one size too small.

“Because I will crush you, little worm!” she sputtered.

“No, you won’t,” I said lightly. “This is a safe zone, remember?”

It was the wrong thing to say, and I could see the giantess’ confidence grow before my eyes. She hunched over further and placed her face an inch from mine, a wide grin splitting her face.

I didn’t back away. From this close, I could see that flecks of gold danced in pupils of her brown eyes.

“Ah, but you can’t stay here forever, can you?” the giantess said, her tone silky. “You will have to leave sometime. Then you will be mine, you treacherous dog.”

She had a point, but I was damned if I was going to acknowledge it.

I wrinkled my nose at the less-than-pleasant odor wafting over my face from the giantess’ breath, but my reaction didn’t seem to faze her. “You will have to catch me first,” I quipped.

The giantess’ smile widened. “Oh, we’ll catch you. Never fear.”

Her certainty was daunting. Alright Michael, you’ve poked this particular bear enough. How about you try to get some real information?

“Where’s all your equipment?” I asked suddenly.

Her brows drew down. “What?”

“Why are you lot all in newbie gear?” I asked, gesturing to the crowd. “Have you people just entered the Game?”

The giantess’ nostrils flared wide and the mutters in the crowd grew in volume. “Don’t play the fool, Michael,” she growled. “Some amongst us recognized your face. We know you started in the Master’s domain too.”

Huh? How does she know my name? Did—

Of course. She used analyze.

Remembering that I had the ability myself, I reached out to the giantess with my mind and probed her. The air around her large form began to shimmer with strange translucent symbols. Instinctively, I knew they contained data about my target. I drew in the information and my mind automatically decoded their meaning.

The target is Decalthiya, a level 8 sun half-giant. This entity is a player. You have failed to advance your insight: skills cannot be gained in this area.

Ah, so she wasn’t quite a giant then, but my guess had been close-enough. The haze that had formed around Decalthiya reminded me of something else: I hadn’t seen any Marks around her. I glanced at the crowd of candidates behind her. None of them were Marked either.

“What’s wrong, Michael? Nothing more to say No more denials of what you are?”

Decalthiya’s words drew my attention back to her. She has no Marks and is still rank zero. The half-giant was a newbie, but she had managed to gain some levels, so she hadn’t just entered the Game. Which meant there was only explanation for why she and her fellows were standing in front of me without gear.

She must have died. They all must have.

That realization made me more sympathetic to their plight, but it still didn’t explain their hostility towards me. It couldn’t be simply jealously, could it?

“So. You don’t deny it,” Decalthiya said, taking my silence to signify agreement. “You admit to being one of Saben’s crew.”

“What? No! Of course not!” I replied, indignant. “Why would you think that?”

Decalthiya leaned back, stretching to her full height. “Don’t lie, little man. Your arrival was observed. You were seen entering from the north tunnel. Saben’s men wouldn’t let any, but one of their own through.”

Ah. Perhaps my attempted deception hadn’t been such a good idea after all. I was being to get an inkling that matters here were more complex than I’d initially realized. “I’m not a member of that gang of thugs,” I insisted.

Decalthiya folded her arms. “Then how did you get here?”

I stayed silent. I wasn’t willing to share the secret of the goblin-complex.

A scarred elf pushed through the crowd and stepped up to the half-giant’s side. He was a tall wiry individual with a greenish cast to his skin, slitted upturned eyes, and peaked ears. I cast analyze over him.

The target is Tantor, a level 7 high elf. This entity is a player.

I frowned. Hmm, the elf was also rank zero. Was everyone in the safe zone’s level this low?

“Bring the human to Morin,” the elf said, addressing Decalthiya and ignoring me altogether. “She wants to speak to him.”

“And if I have no desire to speak with this person?” I interjected.

Tantor’s eyes slid my way. “Would you prefer we hunt you down when you leave the safe zone?”

My lips tightened at the threat, but I didn’t respond to it. Bowing mockingly, I stretched out my arm. “Lead on then.”

Chapter 58: The Painted Woman

Tantor and Decalthiya led me back to the central avenue of the safe zone, with the other candidates following in our wake. As one large mob, we traipsed down the road. The merchants watched us keenly, but said nothing.

Beyond the merchant stalls, the avenue led to the marques and pavilions I had seen from afar. Their entrance flaps were closed, and I couldn’t see inside, but I didn’t think they were more shops.

“What’s in there?” I asked, not expecting an answer, but hoping for one.

The high elf eyed me sideways. “Sleeping quarters,” he said laconically.

The answer surprised me. It suggested the candidates were staying in the safe zone. But why? I wondered. Were they scared to leave? Or was something else at play here? Whatever was going on, it was clearly tied to the thugs I had observed yesterday.

Perhaps I will learn more from this Morin. Hers, was the name I heard repeated mention of from Saben’s gang.

We turned off the road and headed into the gathering of tents. The road, I noticed, continued onwards and ended at the crater’s western entrance. Between the tents, I saw more candidates in the fields of mushrooms. Some were gathering the glowing fungi, others were chewing on them.

My eyebrows flew up. “You eat the mushrooms?” I couldn’t imagine doing any such thing. “They must taste horrible.”

Tantor frowned at me, but didn’t say anything.

Decalthiya growled in anger. “You dare mock us, worm?”

Before I could react, her large hand clamped down on my cloak and she hoisted me effortlessly into the air, leaving my feet dangling a few feet of the ground. I didn’t draw my swords. I wasn’t ready to escalate matters. Not yet. Instead, I struck at her arm with my fists. To no avail, her grip was like iron.

“This is all your glorious leader’s fault!” the half-giant raged. “With no gear or money and confined to this purgatory, what other choices do you think we have but to eat the damned mushrooms and beg the merchants for scraps?”

Violation of safe zone protocols detected. Player Decalthiya has taken hostile action against you. Do you wish her punished?

My offended dignity screamed ‘yes’, but the rational part of my mind knew that would be a mistake. I realized I had unwittingly stumbled onto a conflict between two groups of candidates, and one faction—the losing one seemingly—appeared to have mistaken me for a member of the opposing gang.

Allowing the Game to punish the half-giant—while gratifying—would increase the resentment Morin’s people bore towards me, and that would only make extracting myself from the mess I had found myself in harder. Better to find out more before I act, I thought.

“Let me go,” I hissed, holding the half-giant’s stare. I knew she was angry, but I didn’t think she truly meant me harm. Lost to her rage, the half-giant didn’t respond immediately.

“Decalthiya,” Tantor said warningly. “We can’t afford this. You’re on your last life.” Some of the fury clouding the half-giant’s eyes cleared at that, but still she hesitated. “Do it!” he snapped.

The half-giant opened her hands, and I dropped to the floor. Nimbly finding my footing, I waved away the Game’s query.

The high elf studied me curiously, no doubt wondering why I had saved his companion from punishment. “Thank you,” he said grudgingly after a moment.

He didn’t elaborate, but I took his meaning. I glanced at Decalthiya. She folded her arms and glared at me, remaining tight-lipped.

I rolled my eyes, and swung back to Tantor. “Well, what are we waiting for? Take me to this Morin and let’s get this over with.”

The sooner I can get this conversation over with, the sooner I can leave.

~~~

The half-giant and half-elf led me into a whitewashed leather tent. None of the other candidates followed us inside.

Three people in newbie gear were waiting for us: two humans and one dwarf. Four-feet-tall, the dwarf was squat and built low to the ground. He was older than most of the other candidates I had seen, and his bushy-black beard was speckled with grey.

One of the humans was male. Blonde haired, blue-eyed, and with a square jaw, he was solidly built. The last figure, an athletic-looking woman whose height matched my own, was the most interesting and… strange. From head to foot, every inch of the woman’s skin that I could see, was painted. And I had no trouble imagining the same applied for the bits of her covered by her white shirt and shorts.

What would possess someone to paint themselves in such a manner? I wondered.

But as I looked closer, I realized that it wasn’t paint, but tattoos that covered the woman—tattoos formed of solid squares of brown and green laid out in a checkered pattern to cover her entire body. Weird, I thought, and cast analyze over the three.

The target is Bornholm, a level 7 dwarf. This entity is a player.

The target is Sigmar, a level 9 human. This entity is a player.

The target is Morin, a level 10 painted human. This entity is a player.

I frowned. Again, their levels were much lower than I expected. I couldn’t understand it. And what the hell is a painted human? Everything about Morin appeared disturbing. It also hadn’t escaped my attention that she was the highest-levelled candidate I’d encountered in the safe zone.

I fixed my gaze on her. The woman’s eyes were a startling shade of green, and her long hair was colored in the same shades of brown and green as her skin. She and her two companions stared at me, no doubt studying me as intently I was them.

“Well?” I demanded after the silence had drawn out long enough. “Why am I here?”

“Show some respect!” Decalthiya snarled from behind me. Almost automatically her arm swung forward to cuff me.

I deftly ducked the blow. Grown wise to the half-giant’s temper, I had been keeping a wary eye on her. She really has no sense of self-preservation, I thought in passing.

The half-giant’s eyes narrowed as her palm failed to connect. She took a threatening step forward.

“Enough,” Morin said softly.

Mid-motion, Decalthiya froze and swung to face the painted woman. “Sorry boss,” she mumbled.

Morin’s eyes flicked to Tantor. Reading the command in her gaze, he began speaking. “He’s spoken to three people only: the Master’s two pets and Hamish. My people are questioning the vampires now—” the elf made a face—“but you know how they are. I don’t expect to get much information out of them.”

Morin nodded. “And what did he and the grey merchant speak about?”

Tantor frowned and his gaze flicked sideways to me. “The dark elf won’t say, which is odd, considering how garrulous the damn idiot is.”

“Hamish told you nothing? Really?” the human Sigmar asked.

“Nothing except that he would never betray a customer’s secrets,” Tantor said, sounding disgruntled.

I couldn’t help chuckling at that, my liking for the cheerful merchant growing. It seemed that I owed him another good turn.

Morin didn’t even spare me a glance, and continued her questioning as if I hadn’t interrupted. “So he bought something from the merchant?”

“Bought and sold,” Tantor said.

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed at that. “What did he sell?” Bornholm asked, his voice a deep rumble. “Player gear?”

The elf shook his head. “Nothing that we could definitively identify as having belonged to any of our people,” Tantor said. “He didn’t sell much. Only two goblin bows, a pair of crude daggers, some books, and two Class stones.”

“All of that was loot I collected myself,” I declared loudly. My interjection was ignored by everyone except Decalthiya, who glared at me venomously.

“What idiot sells Class stones?” Sigmar asked, speaking over me.

“This idiot, that’s who,” I growled, beginning to get annoyed. It was obvious these people were suspicious of me, but it was equally clear that they couldn’t do much to act on those suspicions. And I was done playing their games.

“He bought a bunch—” Tantor began, continuing his report as I’ve had not spoken.

“Enough!” I barked. “I’ve humored you people long enough, and I’ve just about run out of patience. Tell me what you want, or I leave now.”

Bornholm bellowed. “Who do you think—”

Morin waved him to silence and stepped up to me. “How did you get here?” she asked, her face an expressionless mask.

I held the green-eyed woman’s gaze for a moment, then shrugged. “I see no reason to tell you that.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sigmar scoffed. “He was seen at the north tunnel mouth. Saben’s people let him through. Either he is part of their gang, or an accomplice.”

“He hasn’t come from Saben,” Morin said, not looking away from me.

Tantor frowned. “How can you be sure of that?” My own gaze turned curious. I was wondering the same thing.

“Look at his level,” the painted woman instructed. “He is level eighteen.”

“That’s another mark against him,” Sigmar said. “How can his level be so high? He must be the Master’s spy.”

Me, a spy? I glared at the human, ready to deny his words, but no one was paying his accusation much heed, so I kept my own mouth shut.

Bornholm tugged at his beard. “His level is high, true, but how is that relevant?”

Morin started circling me. “Saben is only level twelve. He would never tolerate a player of higher rank than himself in his gang. And he especially wouldn’t allow such a player into the safe zone to buy better gear. No, however he got here, it was not with Saben’s permission.”

“That’s pretty thin, boss,” Sigmar said. “If he is not the Master’s spy, he must be Saben’s. Or he could be a—”

Morin pinned him with a stare. “He isn’t. I’m sure.”

Decalthiya tugged at her hair, not doubting her leader. “So if Saben didn’t send him, who did?” she asked.

Morin swung back to me. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Chapter 59: A Game within a Game

“No one sent me,” I said into the silence that had formed around me.

“Why should we believe you?” Bornholm asked suspiciously.

I cast him an exasperated look. “I don’t care if you believe me. I want nothing from you people. Just leave me alone.”

“We can’t do that,” Morin said.

I swung back to her. “Why not?” I demanded.

The painted woman lowered her gaze. “Because our straits are dire,” she said softly. “And we need your help.”

I laughed. “Help? You want my help?” She had to be joking. “Is this—” I gestured to the five of them clustered around me—“how you ask for help? Through interrogation?”

Morin sighed. “I apologize. Trust is in short supply these days.”

I stared at her. Her attitude had softened remarkably from a few moments ago. What’s more, her request appeared genuine. She really is asking for my help.

“What are you doing, Morin?” Sigmar hissed. “We don’t need his aid. And we can’t trust him!”

“We have no choice,” Morin said. “The longer we stay here, the more precarious our position becomes. Saben’s people grow stronger, while we don’t. One way or the other, if we do nothing, he will wipe us out.” She turned back to me. “Will you help us?”

I folded my arms and held her gaze. “I won’t agree to anything, not until I know what’s going on.” I hesitated. I didn’t like the way I had been treated, but I couldn’t forget the glimpse I had caught of the captives in Saben’s camp. “But I am prepared to listen to what you have to say.”

Morin smiled. The expression transformed her tattooed face, making it appear less alien. “Fair enough,” she said and gestured to the floor. “Why don’t you have a seat. The explanations may take a while.”

~~~

A few minutes later, the six of us were seated in a circle. From what I’d gathered so far, Morin was the leader of the candidates in the safe zone, and the other four were part of her inner circle.

“Where to begin,” Morin murmured, running a hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and thought for a moment before glancing at me. “You were the last of the Master’s candidates to arrive, weren’t you?”

I nodded.

“That’s why some of my people recognized you.” Morin smiled. “You cut quite a memorable figure entering the room with the Master.”

I looked at her quizzically.

Tantor chuckled and I glanced at him.

“You were the only candidate to be personally greeted by the Master,” he explained. “The rest of us were welcomed by Stayne. The first time we heard the Master speak was during his speech.”

“Like you, we also entered this world with no memory of our past,” Morin said. “Unlike you, the rest of us had weeks to acclimatize to this world.”

“Weeks?” I asked, startled.

“Weeks,” she confirmed. “We spent the time learning what we could of this world, the Game, and—” she glanced at her companions—“forming friendships.”

I nodded slowly. It explained why the other candidates had seemed so easy with each other. “So you knew what we were getting into before entering the dungeon?”

Morin shook her head. “Not for certain. The Master’s people kept us isolated, but some of the undead let things slip.” She shrugged. “We only had rumors and random bits of information to work with. Still, it was enough for most of us to guess what was going on.”

Sigmar snorted. “A few were further blessed.”

I stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Some of the Master’s lieutenants took candidates under their wing,” he explained. “They fed them information and provided advice.”

“And the Master let all this happened?” I asked.

“The Master doesn’t care,” Tantor said. He lifted his arms, gesturing to the surrounding dungeon. “All of this is a game to him. A game within the Game.” He gave a lopsided grin. “I suspect he finds all this amusing.”

I could well believe that.

“Which bring us to Saben,” Morin said.

I quirked one eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Stayne mentored Saben personally,” Morin said. “And Stayne is no ordinary undead. He is a player.”

“A player?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

Morin shook her head. “Sure? No. It was by his own admission after all, and none of us had the analyze ability at that time.”

I frowned. “Why would Stayne bother with helping a candidate though? What’s in it for him?”

“Tantor has a theory,” she replied and nodded for the elf to explain.

“The Master wants players to join his faction, but he does not care how that happens,” the high elf said. “There is a hierarchy amongst the Awakened Dead too, and Stayne is near the top. By taking Saben under his wing, he is acting to strengthen his position.”

My brows crinkled “How?”

“What do you know of Saben?” Morin asked me.

I shrugged “I know he is not the finest of individuals. I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen his gang and the prisoners they’ve taken.”

Bornholm leaned forward. “You have? Tell me lad, how are they faring?”

I glanced at the dwarf. His face was animated as he eagerly waited on my words. “They were… not good,” I said, deciding not to elaborate further.

Bornholm slumped back, and Morin laid a comforting hand on his knee.

Sigmar was studying me with slitted eyes. “What were you doing in Saben’s camp?”

Before I could tell him I was never in the camp, Morin chopped her arm down in irritation. “Hold you questions for later, Sigmar. Let Tantor finish.” She gestured for the elf to go on.

“Saben is not like the other candidates,” Tantor said. “He isn’t interested in the dungeon or loot. While the rest of us were racing through the dungeon, killing goblins and claiming loot, Saben and his thugs were doing something entirely different.”

“What?” I asked.

“They were capturing candidates and pressing them into service—Saben’s service,” the elf replied.

I frowned.

“I believe,” Tantor continued, “that Saben has sworn allegiance to Stayne and that he has been tasked with gathering more followers for the undead player.”

“That sounds… diabolical,” I said, scratching my chin in thought. “But how can Saben force candidates into doing something they don’t want to? Sure, they’d risk death by denying him, but we all have three lives, don’t we?”

Tantor smiled grimly. “Not anymore. “We’ve all died at least once.” He nodded to Decalthiya. “And some of us more than once.”

“It is more than that though,” Morin said. “When we die, we are reborn here—in the safe zone.”

“Which you would think is a good thing,” Tantor continued, “but there is only one passage leading into and out of this area—or only one that we have been able to access anyway.”

“Ah,” I said, realizing their predicament now. “And Saben has blockaded the exit?”

“Correct,” Tantor said. “His gang is camped about a hundred yards down the north tunnel.”

“But you knew that already, didn’t you?” Sigmar interjected.

Tantor waved him to silence and continued, “Saben is refusing to let anyone who does not join his gang leave the safe zone.”

“We’ve tried twice to break through,” Bornholm added sadly. “But without weapons and equipment, we failed miserably both times.”

Morin leaded forward. “You can see now why we need your help.” She pinned me with her emerald green eyes. “Will you tell us how you slipped past Saben’s gang? If you do that, I promise we will ask nothing more of you—” she glanced at Sigmar—“nor will we pass judgement on you for anything you may have done. Tell us please, and give us a chance of escaping this hellhole.”

An expectant hush fell over the tent.

Breaking away from Morin’s piercing gaze, I studied each of her companions in turn. The hope in their gazes was almost painful. Even doubting-Sigmar and the angry half-giant seemed eager to hear what I had to say. What do I tell them? I wondered.

And how far dare I trust them?