Grand Game 70-79 (Patreon)

Chapter 70: Death and Mayhem

I was already halfway through my casting when Decalthiya’s weapon hurtled forward.

Sigmar stood no chance.

In a single, mighty blow, the inquisitor’s head was caved in, his hide armor helm proving no obstacle to the half-giant’s greatclub.

Sigmar has died.

In the same instant, Morin’s hand flashed downwards and sent the moonstone lamp crashing to the floor, destroying the cavern’s only light source. The maneuver triggered Tantor’s own action. The battlemage leapt backwards, using the darkness to hide his movements. From his new position, he crouched and down began softly chanting the opening words of a spell, while Morin stood tall and shouted out the words of her own casting.

With the object of her hatred dead, Decalthiya whirled about and charged into the candidates crowding the tunnel. She laid into them with abandon and more importantly, stopped any of their number from entering the chamber.

The elites in the chamber were not caught entirely flatfooted. Despite being blinded, the fighters amongst them drew their weapons and charged Morin’s position, while the gang’s mages and clerics began their own chants. Their voices were a soft counterpoint to the clash of steel and rising shouts of alarm.

Saben, too, was casting. But with my own spell preparation nearly done, I had no further attention to spare him or the others in the chamber.

Focusing on my target, I sent tendrils of psi reaching into his mind. Goral’s back was rigid and his hand rested on the daggers on his belt, but despite his obvious tension, the thug made no move to join the fight in the cavern.

Goral has passed a mental resistance check! You have failed to charm your target. Your mental intrusion has gone undetected!

My first attempt failed, and without hesitation, I began anew. It grated on me to rely solely on psi for my opening attack, but given Goral’s night vision, and my lack of a useable weapon, I had no other option.

In the passage, Decalthiya was a force of destruction. With every blow, she maimed or crippled candidates, while seeming to be immune from the blows she received in return. I saw Markus go down under her greatclub, and couldn’t help a small smile. That was one less threat I need worry about.

Morin’s spellcasting completed, and a circle of thorn vines rose out of the ground to snap at the fighters surrounding around her. The gang’s fighters fell back, but I saw that the druid was already bleeding from multiple cuts.

A flurry of ice and slurry roared out of Tantor’s hands, flash freezing everything in its path. But the darkness worked as much to the elf’s detriment as the gang’s and he was forced to blindly target his spell. Unfortunately, only two enemy mages were caught out by the beam.

Then the gang’s spellcasters own castings came into effect.

Three globes of light arced to the ceiling and shone downwards to form a trio of overlapping cones of light. On the cavern’s left, a zombie and six skeletons rose from the ground, and on the right, two wraiths materialized from the air. Shields of silver flickered into being around four mages, and a pair of magic missiles hissed towards Tantor.

My stomach clenched. The battle had already begun to turn. It was inevitable of course, given the disparity in the numbers, but our party’s opening salvo had given me cause to hope for better.

A gleam of obsidian drew my eye back to the cavern’s center. Saben was releasing his spell. A black bubble of pulsating darkness grew from the gang leader’s hands and bobbled towards the entrance. On a direct course for Morin.

My eyes widened in horror and I nearly lost grasp on my own casting. Instinctively, I knew that whatever the bubble contained, Morin would not survive it. Tantor, rising out of his roll as he evaded the missiles heading his way, saw Saben’s spellcasting too, and managed to shout out a warning. Decalthiya’s head whipped around and began swinging around.

Then my own spell completed, and my attention flew back to Goral. Wielding psi like a hammer, I forcibly crushed the gang member’s will beneath my own.

Goral has failed a mental resistance check! You have charmed your target for 10 seconds.

At last, I breathed. I rose to my feet, and in a single motion drew my sword from Goral’s belt and plunged it through his throat.

You have taken hostile action against your minion! Control of target lost. You have killed Goral.

With night vision of his own, Goral had been too big a threat to let live. I let the corpse fall to my feet, and slipped into hiding.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you! You are hidden.

My gaze slid back to the cavern in time to see Decalthiya launch herself in front of Morin—and directly into the obsidian bubble that was still sailing slowly through the air.

As soon as she made contact with the pulsating orb, the half-giant collapsed as if her strings had been cut. The bubble was not done with her yet though. It cloying darkness seeped into her, causing her skin to ripple disturbingly.

Then Decalthiya began to shriek and writhe. Her limbs flailed and her back arched as if her body was the throes of some great agony.

“No!” Morin shouted, and tried to reach the half-giant’s side, but the moment the druid stepped outside the ring of her protective thorn vines, the fighters pushed her back.

A second later, the half-giant’s cries cut-off abruptly, and her body stilled.

Decalthiya has died.

Morin howled, and Tantor roared, giving vent to their anger and grief. Abandoning his spellcasting, Tantor drew his weapon and struck at his nearest foe. Green light bursting from her eyes and spear, Morin followed the high elf’s lead and threw herself with reckless abandon at the fighters surrounding her.

For one drawn-out moment, I was shocked into stillness. Damnit Decalthiya, why? I murmured. The half-giant had only a single life remaining, and she had sacrificed it to save Morin. You should have run, you idiot. The half-giant was nothing, if not loyal, even unto the end.

My anger threatened to boil over, but I squashed it. I was still weak and nearly drained of energy. I had only one chance to act, and I couldn’t afford anything but calculation to guide my blows.

My eyes locked on my target. Saben was casting again. Attempting simple charm on the gang leader was too chancy, the risk of failure too high. I would have to kill him up close. I took a moment to checked my reserves.

Your stamina is at 21%, your psi at 16%, and your mana at 0%.

My stamina had recovered a little further, and I had enough for two abilities I judged. I would have to choose carefully which to use.

Brushing aside the silk strands, I stepped into the cavern proper with my bloodied blade in hand. Saben still had his back to me. Blocking out awareness of the rest of the fight, I slipped through the few pools of shadow left by the light cones beaming down from above.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you!

My approach was unseen. None of the gang knew I had entered the battle, and their attention was wholly focused on Tantor and Morin.

Tantor has died.

At the Game’s message, my steps faltered and my focus momentarily wavered, but determinedly I wrenched my mind back to the task at hand. I was halfway to my target already and would not let myself fail now.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you!

Another few steps. Saben was nearly within reach now.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you!

I was less than two feet away. I had made it. Uncoiling from my crouch, I sprang upwards, and channeled stamina. Energy flowed out of me and formed around my shortsword, reinforcing the weapon’s physical damage.

Weakness assailed me at the sudden drain of energy, but this time knowing to expect it, I rode the backlash of its loss better and plunged the point of my blade through Saben’s back without faltering.

Saben has failed a physical resistance check! You have backstabbed your target for 50% more damage! You have critically injured Saben.

You have interrupted your target’s spellcasting. Saben’s transformation disrupted!

A hostile entity has detected you! You are no longer hidden.

Transformation? I wondered in bewilderment. What spell was Saben casting? I had no time to dwell on the confusing Game message though, and I banished that errant thought almost as soon as it occurred.

My blade had slipped easily through the gang leader and I was sure my blade had pierced his heart, but worryingly I received no death message.

Saben’s head whipped around, and despite the agony he had to be suffering, the gang leader managed to glare blackly at me and open his mouth.

Not waiting to hear whatever threat Saben no doubt intended on making, I withdrew my sword and slapped my left hand down onto his shoulder. Then I cast stunning slap.

Drawing psi from my mind, I sent it coursing through my muscles, out my hand, and directly into Saben’s body. In an instant, the invasive energy flooded the gang leader’s own muscles and froze him in place.

Saben has failed a physical resistance check! You have stunned your target for 1 second.

Quicker than thought, I plunged my sword through the gang leader again.

You have killed Saben. You have slain a priest of Ishita, earning her ire!

It was done. Or at least the most important part was. Paying the other more-ominous sounding part of the Game message no mind, I shoved aside the corpse and took in the room.

Most of the enemy were still focused on Morin, but a few of the gang members had spotted me besides their downed leader, and with cries of anger were running my way. Ignoring them for now, I studied the battle raging around the painted woman.

Even though, she was surrounded by a swarm of fighters and mages remarkably Morin was still alive. Dancing amongst her thorn vines, she struck at the fighters threatening her while deftly avoiding their blows.

Alive though she might be, the painted woman was struggling.

There was a hitch in her step, and blood flowed freely down her sides. Any moment, I knew, she could meet her end. I took a step towards her. But before I could get any closer, a broadsword cleaved through the druid’s torso, hewing her nearly in two.

Morin has died.

I paused in my step and squeezed my eyes shut. The others were all dead, and I was alone, with nearly no stamina or psi.

I could not win.

Dying was all but a foregone conclusion. But that didn’t mean my fight was done yet. My eyes snapped open. Let’s see how many of them I can take with me.

Chapter 71: A Reckoning

“It’s that damned rogue!”

“Get him!”

“He’s killed Saben!”

With Morin dead, the attention of the remaining gang members turned my way. My gaze flicked left and right. Players were converging on me from all sides, and I saw no safe path to the exit or back to the spiderwebs lining the walls. Crouching down, I tried slipping into the shadows.

You have failed to conceal yourself from the nearby entities.

So be it, I thought. I will make my stand here. Bending over Saben’s corpse, I removed his shortsword.

You have acquired the rank 1 shortsword: spider’s bite. This item increases the damage you deal by: 15% and bears the enchantment: webbed, that causes magical strands to appear beneath your opponent’s feet on every successful hit. If the target fails a physical resistance check, they will be held for 1 second.

This item requires a minimum Dexterity of 4 to wield. The item’s enchantments are presently fully charged, and can be replenished with mana.

Huh. Nice sword, I thought, calm despite the screaming gang members rushing towards me. I pivoted to face the entrance, and armed with a blade in either hand, charged the candidates there.

~~~

A skeleton was at the fore of the group, three steps ahead of the others. I hurtled towards the undead. Sidestepping the creature at the last moment, I slashed at it in passing with Saben’s sword.

You have critically injured a level 11 skeletal warrior. Webbed triggered! A skeletal warrior has failed a physical resistance check! You have immobilized your target for 1 second.

I moved on.

A warrior and mage were before me, with others crowding on either side of them. The warrior raised her shield defensively and smashed down with her mace, while the mage pointed his wand at me.

I dodged to the right and out of the warrior’s reach, and before the mage could release his spell, I sliced open his bare throat with my lefthanded blade.

You have killed Larsen.

A spearman to the mage’s right was lunging at me with his weapon. I fended off the spear with my righthanded blade, and ripped open his torso with the one in my left.

You have killed Javelin.

Two blows struck my rear in quick succession.

A magic missile has injured you! A magic missile has injured you!

I was caught flatfooted by the impact and staggered forward. A warrior approaching on my right took the opportunity to swipe at me with his axe. I swayed left, barely dodging the blow, and fell against another spellcaster.

A priest, I thought. I shoved into my smaller foe, and thrust one of my swords through her robes and into her heart.

You have killed Layla.

A sword struck me from behind, and a line of fire ripped down my shoulder. My back arched back involuntarily, and I shrieked.

An unknown assailant has injured you!

A dagger plunged into my thigh. Then another into my side. The end was near. Dizzy with pain, I pivoted on my heel. Or tried to. Instead, I barely managed a quarter turn. Still, the move put another foe in front of me, and without hesitation I buried both my blades in his chest.

You have killed Declan. You have reached level 20.

I smiled a bloody grin and kept going. More blows rained down on me, but I didn’t feel any of them—which I knew was not a good sign.

Throwing back my head, I howled.

I imagined it was a terrifying sound because for one blessed second the attacks stopped. Still cackling with glee, I let go all semblance of control. Forgoing conscious thought entirely, I hacked blindly with both my blades, with neither plan nor consideration for who or what was in front of me.

For a few glorious seconds I was invincible. It had to end of course. Changing tactics suddenly, the gang members withdrew away from me like a receding tide.

That’s when the first arrow struck my shoulder.

A second followed, thudding into my hip. A third glanced off my helm. The fourth buried itself in my chest. My vision went blurry, and my thoughts ground to a halt. I didn’t stop trying to fight though. Staggering blindly, I wafted my blades aimlessly.

Warning! Your health is dangerously low at 3%. Death imminent.

“Enough!” I heard a voice roar.

But it didn’t matter if they stopped now. I was too far gone. I swayed and crashed to the floor, managing only a half-caught glimpse of a pair of glowing red eyes before my consciousness fled entirely.

~~~

Awareness seeped back slowly. A second later, memory followed. My eyes slid open, and I found myself staring at a rock ceiling Not moving, I took stock of myself. All my injuries had been healed and I was blessedly free of pain.

Your health is now at 100%.

The Game message confirmed what my senses told me. Is that what dying feels like? I wondered. The experience hadn’t so bad after all.

Another sensation made itself known. Lethargy. My limbs felt sluggish. As if my pools of energy are still low. I frowned. If I had been reborn, my stamina should have been replenished.

“Look at me, boy.”

My head creaked to the left and I found a pair of red eyes glaring at me.

“Stayne,” I muttered. His body was hidden in interlocking plates of armor formed from black glass, but his luminous eyes and grinning skull—left deliberately bare I suspected—were unmistakable.

The undead grunted. “Why is that I always find myself waiting for you to wake up?”

“Twice is hardly always,” I growled and pushed myself up into a seated position. “What are—”

I broke off, finally seeing my arm. I was still wearing my hide leather armor.

“You haven’t died if that is what you’re wondering,” Stayne said.

I raised my head again and took in my surroundings. I was in Saben’s chambers, lying in the same spot where I had fallen. Bodies still littered the floor and a few gang members moved quietly about in the background. Other than Stayne himself, no one else was paying me any attention.

Gnat glided down from the darkness to alight on my shoulder. I nodded to him before turning back to Stayne. “Why am I still alive?” I asked quietly.

The undead’s eyes flickered momentarily to the bat before returning to me. “It’s time we had a chat.” He paused, looking at me expectantly.

Hearing a low chuckle and hushed voices, my gaze drifted beyond Stayne to the gang members bending over something on the ground. It was Decalthiya, I realized. The thugs were stripping her body and making obscene comments about her size.

Fury lashed through me. Bastards. How dare they—

With considerable effort, I wrestled my thoughts under control. Now was not the time. But soon, I promised myself, the wretches would pay. I turned back to Stayne. “Go, on,” I said evenly.

“You’ve been a busy boy,” Stayne said. He waited for me to comment. When I said nothing, he went on. “Level twenty and two Marks already,” he mused. “A pity that they are such weak ones though.” His glowing red orbs flared suddenly. “What task did you complete to get those Marks?”

My jaw tightened in the face of the undead’s stare. So this is an interrogation. I remained silent, but Stayne’s words reminded me of something else. Drawing on my will, I analyzed him.

The target is Stayne, an ascendant undead of indeterminant level. This entity is a player, and bears a Mark of Supreme Dark, a Mark of Erebus, a Mark of Death, a Mark of...

Morin had been right. Stayne was a player. He carried a long list of Marks too, many of them meaningless to me. What is an ascendant undead? I wondered.

“Answer me!” Stayne demanded.

I said nothing.

Gnat lowered his head and placed his mouth next to my ear. “You should tell him what he wants to know, Michael. Stayne is dangerous. Don’t toy with him. ”

My gaze slid sideways to the bat, but still, I remained silent.

“You should listen to the familiar,” Stayne said. He leaned forward. “You want to get out of the dungeon, don’t you?”

I glanced at the undead, my interest finally piqued. “I do,” I said at last.

He leaned back. “Then tell me what I want to know. It’s the only way you will leave this place alive. You understand?”

I nodded, deciding to play along.

“Good, now tell me about the dire wolves.”

So he knows about them. “What about the wolves?”

“Don’t be coy with me, boy. I know your task was related to them.”

I stared at him for a long moment, internally debating what to say and what to try to keep hidden, then shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. Freeing the wolves was a hidden task.”

“And what rewards did the Adjudicator give you?”

“The Marks obviously.”

“Nothing else?”

I drew my brows down in feigned confusion. “Like what?”

Stayne’s eyes narrowed, inspecting me the way a cat would a mouse, but he didn’t question my response further. “Where are the wolves now?”

“They left through the sector exit.”

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

I glared at him. “You know why.”

Stayne didn’t bother pretending ignorance as to my meaning. “What? Don’t tell me you thought the task the Master set you was going to be fair?” He chuckled. “Trust me, when I say you will not escape the Master’s clutches without proving your loyalty to the Dark. The sector portal is the only way out.”

I didn’t believe him. The Master might have an agenda, but I suspected the Adjudicator was—if not fair—at least impartial. The second task I had acquired was proof enough of that. But I would gain nothing by mention any of that to the undead. “Why are you here, Stayne?” I asked, attempting a question of my own.

To my surprise, he answered. “To issue you a warning.”

“What warning?”

“Correct your ways, or perish,” Stayne stated baldly. “You have strayed from the path the Master deems acceptable. Normally this would be of no concern, and you would be left to wither away. But for some reason, the Master has taken an interest in you.” The undead’s gaze pinned me again. “Do you know why?”

I shook my head mutely. I had an inkling though. My Class evolution… it has to be that. What I didn’t understand yet was why it would attract the Master’s attention.

Stayne snorted, seeming to have no trouble believing my answer. “Well however you have managed it, you have impressed the Master. I am here at his behest.”

I struggled to keep any alarm from showing on my face. The Master’s interest was the last thing I wanted. “And how am I expected to ‘correct my ways?’” I asked carefully.

Stayne laughed. It was a hollow sound, stripped bare of any joy. “It simple. Seal yourself to the Dark. You can do that by taking on a Dark Class, or by swearing allegiance to the Master through me. The Master doesn’t care which option you choose.” The light in the undead’s eyes intensified. “But naturally, I would prefer you take up the second choice.”

“You want me to become your follower?” I asked, unable to stifle the note of disbelief in my voice.

“Technically, the Master’s follower. But yes,” Stayne replied. “I can make it worth your while, you know.” He eyed my gear derisively. “For starters, I can see to it that you are much better equipped.

“What about Saben?”

“What about him?”

“Isn’t he your follower? Won’t me swearing allegiance to you anger him?”

“Saben isn’t one of mine,” Stayne said curtly. “The fool rejected what the Master offered him. Now, make your choice.”

I frowned. If it wasn’t Stayne, or the Master who was helping Saben, who was it? After witnessing the gang leader’s abilities for myself, it was clear that Tantor’s and Morin’s suspicion were correct. Someone was aiding him. There was no way he had gotten as strong as he had on his own.

“My time grows short,” Stayne said, interrupting my musings. “What is your choice?”

I bit my lip, thinking. I didn’t want to refuse the undead player outright. I suspected he wouldn’t take rejection well, but how was I going to placate him? “Tell one more thing,” I said, deciding to play for time, “what is Saben?”

“And why should I tell you that?” Stayne asked, his tone amused.

“Call it a gesture of good faith?” I tried.

The undead snorted, but decided to humor me anyway. “Saben is a dark acolyte and sworn servant of Ishita.”

“Ishita?” I asked sharply. “What is she? Another player?”

Stayne laughed. “You’re clueless, aren’t you? Ishita is as far beyond a player as I am from you.” His eyes glinted. “Ishita is a Power of the Dark, and another member of the Awakened Dead faction.” He paused. “And for some reason, the spider goddess is interested in you, too. Saben had orders to capture you for her.”

“Spider goddess?” I repeated. Of course. The transformation spell I’d interrupted. The spiderwebs. It all came together. “Sigmar lied about that too, didn’t he? This was never a spider’s lair. Saben is a shapeshifter. He is the spider.”

“My, my, so you aren’t as dumb as you look. You’ve got it in one. Now you’ve wasted enough of my time.” Too quick to follow, Stayne slashed his blade across my throat.

Stayne has critically injured you. Warning! Your health is dangerously low at 2%. Death imminent.

My eyes bulged and my hands clutched at my neck in an attempt to stem the bleeding. “Why?” I managed to croak as my life drained away.

Stayne shook his head. “You may have promise, boy, but you don’t know your place. Consider this your first lesson. You don’t question me. Ever. Now you’ve got two more chances. Use them wisely, and don’t disappoint me or the Master again.”

Swinging around, Stayne walked away, leaving me to my fate. Death was not long in coming.

You have died.

Chapter 72: A New Life’s Resolution

I returned to awareness with shocking suddenness. It was as if I had been dipped in an ice bath. I inhaled sharply as my memories returned in a rush.

With them came gut-wrenching agony.

I shuddered and my limbs began convulsing. I was dying. Again. I knew it for a certainty. I could feel my lifeblood spilling away. The pain was excruciating. No! I won’t die like this! Not again. My eyes snapped open and my hands flew to my throat.

There was no gash.

My mind refused to believe it. Frantic fingers roved over my neck, probing every inch of skin for the source of the pain that I could still feel, that I knew was there. It was so real: the taste of the cold cruel blade slicing through my throat, the flood of blood gurling out of me, the waves of agony coursing through my veins, and the sense of fading self.

I shivered uncontrollably. My heart thumped in my chest and sweat broke out across my brow.

No! I refuted. It’s not real. They’re only memories!

With difficulty, I wrenched my mind back to the present, grimly ignoring the vivid sensations that my mind insisted were real. They weren’t. The evidence was undeniable. I was whole and uninjured.

But if only I could get my mind to accept that.

A Game message hovered before my eyes. Desperately, I sought refuge within it.

You have been reborn. Lives remaining: 2. Time lost during resurrection: 8 hours. Rebirth location: sector 14,913 safe zone.

Other notices were waiting for me. One by one, I perused them. Ignoring my body’s tremors and my mind’s panic, I studied the messages carefully and deliberately.

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

Your light armor has increased to level 18. Your skill in light armor has reached rank 1, decreasing your light armor penalty to 45%.

Your insight has increased to 25. Your chi has increased to level 3. Your meditation has increased to level 22. Your telepathy has increased to level 11. Your sneaking has increased to level 38. Your shortswords has increased to level 34. Your two weapon fighting has increased to level 29.

Congratulations, Michael! You are now a rank 2 player. Your experience gains have decreased further. For achieving rank 2, you have been awarded 1 additional attribute point and 1 Class point.

I went over each Game alert repeatedly until I fully understood the sense of their contents. Most of the messages were fairly mundane, but the one related to the Class point was intriguing enough to jolt my downward spiraling thoughts back to the present. I wasn’t certain, but I had a feeling the Class point was used to upgrade a Class.

Ignoring it for now—I needed to find out more about Class points before I spent it—I turned my attention to my attribute points. Seeing no reason to delay, I invested a point apiece in Constitution and Mind.

Your Constitution has increased to rank 5. Your Mind has increased to rank 5.

When I was done, I breathed out carefully. As I had hoped, dealing with familiar things had settled my mind. I was calmer now, and the shock of my death had passed. I was ready to face the world again.

I sat up.

I was lying in a shallow pool of strange liquid. Whatever it was, it was not water. My hands were bone dry. I looked downwards. And of course, I was clothed in newbie clothes again. “Damn,” I muttered.

I looked around. The rim of the pool was edged by a low stone wall inscribed with indecipherable runes. This has to be the rebirth well Gnat mentioned. The well itself was housed in a tent, and at the moment I was its only occupant.

I rose to my feet and climbed over the stone wall. I could hear the murmur of voices outside the tent. Other candidates were in the safe zone. But before I stepped outside, I closed my eyes and took a moment to compose myself. A lot had happened in the moments before my death, and I had yet to process everything.

Sigmar’s betrayal.

Stayne’s ultimatum.

Saben’s secret.

Decalthiya gone.

The last bit hurt surprisingly more than I expected. I had hardly known the half-giant, and for much of our short acquaintance she had been poorly-disposed towards me. Still, the big fighter had been slowly growing on me. And whatever else could be said of her, Decalthiya had been loyal. Steadfast.

And so cruelly betrayed.

She had deserved better. The Master, Sigmar, Saben, and Stayne, all of them had had a part to play in her demise. But if I was being honest, more than anything else, it was the injustice of the half-giant’s death that ate at me.

And it was not only Decalthiya who had been wronged. Every candidate who had perished in this sector—going through what I had just experienced three times no less—was equally a victim and pawn in the Master’s game.

Someone has to seek redress, I thought. Someone has to seek justice on their behalf.

Did it have to be me? No. But who else was there? Morin and Tantor were capable, but they couldn’t do what I could.

I had been playing it safe with Gnat for fear of the Master’s reprisals, and I had turned away from the plight of Saben’s prisoners previously because the chance of success had been low. The odds were still weighed against me, even more so now with Stayne’s involvement.

But this time, I could not—would not—look the other way.

Stayne and his offer be damned. I will not bow to the Master’s demands. My path crystallized. I would hunt down the two directly responsible for Decalthiya’s death. It was not an entirely rational decision, nor was it the smartest move.

But it was the right choice.

Stayne and the Master were out of my reach. For now. Not so, Saben and Sigmar. Despite having no gear and perhaps no allies, I resolved I would not leave this sector until I killed the pair.

Repeatedly if necessary.

Unbidden, a Game message popped into my mind.

You have been allocated a new task: Vengeance for the Fallen! Your determination to avenge your comrades has been noticed, and the Adjudicator has granted you a task. Hunt down those directly responsible. Objective 1: Deal final death to Sigmar. Objective 2: Deal final death to Saben.

A grim smile lit my face at the message, but it never reached my eyes.

~~~

Exiting the tent, I found myself at the rear of a small crowd of about thirty. Most of the candidates had their backs turned to me and by the sounds of it, were listening to a heated argument raging beyond my sight.

My appearance did not go unnoticed, and by ones and twos the candidates fell silent and turned around to face me. Presently the crowd parted, and two figures approached me: Morin and Tantor.

I sighed. That the two were still here could not bode well. I had been hoping that by now they had returned to the gang’s camp, rounded up the survivors of our little army, and routed the remains of Saben’s elites. That the pair had not done so, could only mean matters were even worse than I suspected.

The two stopped before me, and Morin swung around to address the watching crowd. “Alright everyone, go get some rest. We’ll meet in another two hours. And by then, I promise we’ll have a plan.”

“Yeah, right,” someone shouted.

“No way!” another screamed. “You’re only going to get us killed again. This time for good!”

“Blasted human! We should never have trusted you in the first place,” a third yelled.

But despite the anger expressed by the three hecklers, the mood of the rest of the candidates was more subdued. Scanning their faces, I saw only dull eyes, somber expressions, and lowered gazes. They’ve lost hope, I realized.

As the crowd began dispersing in a lackluster fashion, I turned back to Morin. “What’s going on? Why haven’t you rejoined the others at the camp? Where’s Saben? Did you—”

Tantor held up his hand. “Not here,” he said. “We can’t be sure who may be listening. Let’s speak in the tent.”

I frowned. I didn’t like the thought of delaying our exit from the safe zone any longer than necessary, but I realized the pair must have their reasons. Gesturing to Tantor to lead the way, I followed after.

~~~

“I can’t say I’m pleased to see you,” Morin said, once the three of us were seated in her tent. “When you didn’t appear immediately, we thought…” She sighed, her eyes heavy with sorrow. “It doesn’t matter what we thought. We’ve failed.” She bowed her head. “I failed. I was a fool to trust Sigmar.”

“What’s happened Morin?” I asked, worry clouding my face.

The painted woman held up her arm for patience. “We’ll get to that in a moment. Can you tell us first what happened after we died?”

I nodded and proceeded to tell the pair what they wanted to know. I told them about Stayne’s appearance, the information I had gleaned from him, and the undead player’s ultimatum. I didn’t tell them about my tasks though. It would not affect whatever decisions we needed to make and after Sigmar’s betrayal, I was resolved to play my cards closer.

“Ishita!” Tantor spat when I was done. “By all accounts, she is one of the foulest Powers in the Axis.”

“That explains some things,” Morin said. She shook her head. “But Saben a priest… that was the last thing I expected.”

I frowned at the two. “I keep hearing mention of these Powers, but I still don’t know what they are. Are they really gods?”

Tantor shrugged. “As far we can tell they are. They seem to be the preeminent beings in this world, excluding the Adjudicator itself of course. The Master is one of their number.”

I had figured as much. I glanced at Morin. “A druid is a form of priest, right? Are you sworn to one of the Powers too?”

The painted woman shook her head. “No, I wield Force directly, as do all who have Faith. Those candidates who swear themselves to one of the Powers, do so for reason other than Faith.”

Decalthiya had told me much the same thing, and while I would have liked to pursue the topic further, there were other more important matters to discuss, so I simply nodded in response.

“Do you know why the Master is interested in you?” Morin asked.

I hesitated. “I think so, but I rather not say at the moment.”

“I understand,” she said, and didn’t press me further.

“So, what’s happened?” I asked. “Why are you still here?”

Tantor and Morin exchanged looks before the elf answered. “Sigmar prepared better for his betrayal than we expected,” he said grimly. “It turned out that no few of those who surrendered to us when we invaded the gang’s camp were actually gang loyalist. The moment our party entered the tunnel leading to Saben’s chamber, Sigmar and his loyalist slaughtered our troops that remained behind.” He sighed heavily. “I don’t know how I failed to foresee Sigmar’s treachery, but we have paid a hefty price for my blindness.”

Morin squeezed the elf’s shoulder “I bear as much blame for Sigmar as you, Tantor.” She turned to me. “The short of it is: we’ve lost our army.”

I was as much to blame about Sigmar as the pair. Foolishly, I had chalked up my dislike for the inquisitor to his annoying habits and nothing deeper. And I had been reckless too. I hadn’t feared betrayal because I had believed myself capable of escaping any trap. Still, I had learnt my lesson. Candidates weren’t goblins. Encounters with my fellows could be—and likely would be—wildly unpredictable.

My face hardened. The news was dire. “What about those who went with Bornholm?”

“Sigmar claims the gang is hunting them down as we speak,” Morin said, “but none of Bornholm’s people have reappeared in the safe zone, so there is some hope yet that they survive.”

I bowed my head, thinking. “We should still head out,” I said finally. “If we move fast, perhaps we can recapture the camp before the gang is ready for us.”

Tantor shook his head. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” I demanded, my voice rising, as I sensed more bad news coming.

Morin winced at my tone. “Saben’s people have blockaded both ramps. There is no way out of the safe zone.”

My eyes widened. “The gang is in the cavern?”

She nodded. “Some of them at least. Sigmar and Saben had it all planned out. They used the battle as an opportunity to advance the blockade and their people were in place before we could react. An hour before your rebirth, Saben revived. He took great pains to spell out his demands. None of us will leave the crater alive unless we swear ourselves to him.”

“Some of our fighters must surely still be alive,” I said stubbornly. “Even excluding those who went with Bornholm, we had about seventy fighters in the gang’s camp. I only saw thirty in the crowd outside. Where are the rest?”

“The others are dead,” Tantor said softly. “Like Decalthiya, they have gone to their final deaths. As far as Morin and I can tell, all those who had a remaining life, have returned to the safe zone.” He looked at me unhappily. “Thirty candidates is all we have left.”

I lowered my head into my hands, finally understanding the true extent of our plight.

How am I going to get out of this now? I wondered.

Chapter 73: Trapped in a Bowl

A few minutes later, I left the tent alone. The air of defeat about the camp was unmistakable this time around, and few of the candidates were willing to meet my gaze. I strode down the central avenue of the crater. All the merchants were still present. I spotted Hamish’s wagon too, but didn’t see the merchant himself.

As I reached the crater’s exit, I saw what Morin meant. Lounging at the top of the ramp, and just outside the boundary of the safe zone were twelve fully clad and heavily armed gang members.

Saben and Sigmar were with them. The gang leader was in all his old gear including the shortsword I had taken from him—although his shirt appeared new. Sigmar’s equipment was entirely different. His ill-fitting goblin hide armor was gone, replaced instead by sleek midnight-black leather armor and an ebony longsword.

It was an embarrassment of riches, and gazing up at them from the bottom of the ramp, clad only in my white shorts and shirt, I couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

One of the gang members spotted me, and called out a warning. Saben and Sigmar turned my way. A slow smile curved upwards on the gang leader’s face. “Well, look who has come calling,” he said. “And dressed so lovely too,” he added with a chuckle.

I remained tightlipped. Despite his death at my hands, Saben’s arrogance had not dissipated. If anything, his confidence had grown. My gaze slid to Sigmar. The inquisitor was staring at me with loathing. His hand was tightly wrapped around the hilt of his sword and he seemed poised to launch himself at me.

Saben noticed his companion’s tense demeanor too. “Easy Sigmar,” he murmured.

“You’re a dead man,” the inquisitor growled.

“Well, technically not anymore,” I quipped.

Sigmar didn’t get the joke. His chest heaving, the inquisitor glared back at me. “I will kill you slowly,” he declared. “I will roast you alive over warm coals and feed you to the undead.”

I stroked my chin. Sigmar seemed to be feeling more than the simple anger I expected. I had no idea what was driving the abnormal hatred he directed towards me, but I could use it. “Really?” I asked, arching one eyebrow. “How’d that go for you the first time? If I recall, Decalthiya made short work of you.”

Color flushed the inquisitor’s face, and he looked ready to explode.

I pretended to think. “By my account you have only one life remaining. I’d say that in any contest between us that puts the odds in my favor.” I stared unblinkingly into Sigmar’s eyes. “Your betrayal will not go unpunished.”

The inquisitor quivered. Jerking forward, he took one step into the safe zone with his sword halfway unsheathed. But before he could go any further, Saben’s hand shot out and restrained him. Sigmar’s head whipped around to scowl at the gang leader, but he let himself be pulled back.

Ah well, I thought in disappointment. It had been worth a try at least.

“As delightful as I find your threats, they are toothless,” Saben said. He gestured languidly to the crater. “You are trapped in this bowl and will not get out without our permission.”

Keeping my expression impassive, I folded my arms and played my next card. “You will oppose Stayne’s wishes? He is my patron now.” I was stretching the truth, but hoped they didn’t know better.

Saben grinned. “Technically, you aren’t, not yet anyway. And besides, I don’t serve the Master, and I have no obligation to his dog.” He drummed his fingers along the side of his face theatrically. “But seeing as Ishita and the Master are allied, I could be persuaded to let you make your pledge to the Master. If you are ready, please—” he bowed mockingly—“step up the ramp and I will summon Stayne to take your oath.”

When I made no move to comply, he laughed. “I thought not.”

“Why did you two do it?” I asked abruptly.

Sigmar ignored my question entirely, and Saben only looked confused. “Do what?” the gang leader asked.

“Set such an elaborate trap in the first place,” I said. “You had enough forewarning to assemble your entire gang in the camp and crush us there when we attacked. It would have been simpler and less risky.”

“Ah,” Saben said. “That’s no mystery. Morin is too wily by far. She would have withdrawn if she saw that we were ready for her.” He shook his head sadly. “Besides, I was growing bored and desired an end to our little siege.”

I gaped at him. “So instead, you sacrificed the greater part of your followers to draw her out?”

The gang leader waved his hand dismissively. “It was no great loss, truly. Besides, it was an excellent opportunity to weed out the disloyal.”

Saben’s callousness left me speechless and for a moment, I could only stare at him. “What about Bornholm,” I asked eventually. “Where is he?”

At the mention of his former companion’s name, Sigmar finally stirred. “Bornholm is no concern of yours,” he sneered.

Wordlessly, I studied the inquisitor’s face. Then I swung about and walked away. I had learned what I had come for.

~~~

I checked the crater’s second exit next. But like the first one, it was guarded by twelve gang members. My observations only confirmed what Tantor and Morin had told me. Attempting to leave the safe zone by way of either ramp was a death sentence.

Which left only the crater walls.

Ignoring the hoots and jeers of the gang members as I retreated from the second ramp, I tread a slow circuit around the crater’s base. Its sides were six yards of sheer vertical rockface. What few cracks and seams existed were too far apart to serve as handholds.

Still, there was no other way out that I could see, and I would have to attempt the climb. But before I did that, I needed to pay Hamish a visit.

The dark elf’s wagon was boarded up, and it looked like he was preparing to depart. Banging on the sides, I called out, “Hamish, you in there?”

A head popped out from a window and grey eyes peered at me. “Michael, is that you?”

I walked around so that he could see me clearly.

“Ah it is,” the grey merchant said softly. “So they got you too?”

I nodded.

“One second,” he replied. The merchant ducked back inside and a moment later climbed out the wagon’s rear to stand next to me.

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“I have no choice,” Hamish said. “For a while there business picked up—” he shot me a grateful look—“all thanks to you, but with what’s happened now, it is sure to dry up again.” He sighed. “I’ve wasted enough money on this venture and time is money. I can’t afford to remain here any longer.”

“Oh,” I said, disappointed.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” the elf replied. He paused. “Did you need something?”

“I do,” I said. “Information and a favor.”

Hamish’s face turned solemn. Straightening the front of his suit, the merchant folded his arms in front of him. “I can’t promise anything,” he said, almost gently, “but I’ll hear you out.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. Much depended on his willingness to help me, and I hoped that I had established enough goodwill with Hamish for him to extend me a measure of trust—and credit. “Information first then: what can you tell me about Class points?”

“Ah, an easy enough question to answer,” the merchant replied, seemingly relieved by the simple nature of my query. “Players are awarded Class points at every second player rank and use them to upgrade their Classes. Each Class point can be used to upgrade a single Class by one rank.”

I nodded. So I would gain more Class points in future as well. “What does upgrading entail?”

“As you no doubt already know, each Class comes with a base trait. When you upgrade a Class, it’s base trait will be improved as well. The Game will also give you the opportunity to select an additional trait or Class ability.” Hamish shrugged. “It is impossible to know beforehand what traits or abilities the Adjudicator will offer you during the upgrade, only that they will be suited to your Class and work to enhance your Class features.”

“I see,” I said, wondering which of my two Classes I should spend my Class point on. Given my current predicament, and the fact that my best skills were dexterity-based, it likely made more sense to upgrade my nightstalker Class.

Seeing my frown, Hamish said, “If I may offer a bit of advice?”

“Go ahead,” I said.

The merchant shifted slightly. “I don’t know what Classes you possess currently, but I am guessing at this stage, none of them have melded?”

“They haven’t,” I admitted.

“In that case, I suggest you wait before spending your Class point,” Hamish said.

I was taken aback. “Wait, why?”

“You know about blended Classes?”

I nodded.

“Well, the most obvious benefit of a blended Class is that its base trait is a combination of its constituents. When you upgrade a blended Class it is the combined trait that improves, providing you with further benefits. Not to mention that the choices the Adjudicator offers when advancing blended Classes are invariably better than those for single Classes.”

“Hmm,” I mused. The base trait of my nightstalker Class was wolven, and that of my psionic Class was metamind. If the two traits combined together… then the benefits of waiting to spend my Class point were obvious. And that was discounting the additional benefits a tri-blend Class would bring.

All this hinged on the assumption that my Classes would meld though, and I was unhappily aware that I would need every advantage I could manage in the upcoming fight. But I still have two lives remaining. I could afford to take a calculated risk on my next attempt against the gang. If I died again, then I would use my Class point.

“Thank you, Hamish. I see the sense in what you suggest.” I breathed in deeply. “Now for the favor.”

The grey merchant bobbed his head gravelly and gestured for me to go on.

“I was hoping you would extend me a line of credit,” I began. Seeing Hamish’s brows draw down in an unhappy frown, I finished in a rush. “Not a lot, only enough for one item.”

The merchant opened his mouth. Paused, then closed it again. “One item?” he asked.

I bobbed my head.

“Which one?” he asked tersely.

“The one-step spellbook.”

Hamish’s frown deepened. “A spellbook?” he muttered. “I thought you were going to ask for something foolish like a sword.” He eyed me sideways. “What are you going to do with the spellbook?”

“Escape the safe zone unnoticed.”

Hamish’s eyes flitted from me to the distant crater walls. He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “I see.”

“If I make it out, I will return to repay you, of course,” I promised.

“And if you don’t make it out?”

“Then you will have lost five gold,” I admitted.

The merchant studied me intently, weighing the risk no doubt. “Your request is an unusual one,” he said at last, “and ordinarily not one I would entertain.” Hamish sighed. “But I like you, Michael, and I can’t say that about many people. I will accede to your request—on one condition.”

“What’s that?” I asked, bracing myself.

“Any further trading you do in this sector, you do through me.”

I grinned. Hamish’s terms were not nearly as onerous enough as I’d feared. “We have a deal, my friend.”

Chapter 74: Confrontation

You have acquired the basic spell: one-step. This is a psi ability that allows you to take a single step in the air as if it were solid ground. This ability consumes psi, and can be upgraded. Its activation time is fast, and its cooldown time is average. You have 2 of 5 Mind ability slots remaining.

I wasted no time learning the spell, and after thanking Hamish profusely, I returned to Tantor and Morin.

“I have a plan,” I said to the pair as I ducked into the tent, and proceeded to explain the bare bones of what I had in mind, and being deliberately sketchy on the details.

“It’s risky,” Morin said, when I was done.

“But we don’t have any other options,” Tantor said quietly.

The painted woman nodded and glanced at me. “When you reach the top of the crater, let down a rope, and Tantor and I will join you.”

I shook my head. “No offense, Morin, but this first part, I’m better off doing alone. Neither you nor Tantor have stealth, and—” I held her gaze—“you two are on your last lives.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but I spoke over her. “Please. It’s smarter this way. Have someone keep a lookout for my signal, and as soon as I judge it safe, I will rejoin you. Agreed?”

She nodded reluctantly. “Good luck then.”

~~~

I chose the remotest section of the crater to enact my plan. It was as about as far I could get from both ramps. I was still within sight range—if barely—of the gang members on either end, but given how far I was from them, I didn’t think I would have a problem concealing myself with sneaking.

Reaching the spot I had selected, I scanned the area. None of the candidates in the safe zone were close by. Tantor and Morin had seen to it that I would be undisturbed. Drawing on the shadows, I masked my presence.

You have successfully concealed yourself.

Now comes the hard part, I thought. Looking upwards, I eyed the handhold I had identified—a rock seam about four yards up, and deep enough to grip, or so I hoped. It was too far to reach under normal circumstances, even with my high Dexterity, but with one-step to boost me, I thought I could manage it.

Here goes. I hurried towards the wall at a fast walk, not running, because that would break my stealth. At the same time, I drew on my psi, and began channeling. When I was about two yards away, I jumped while simultaneously casting one-step. Energy flowed from my mind, and out my leg, but instead of solidifying the air underfoot, the psi frittered away.

You have failed to one-step. You have failed to advance your telekinesis: skills cannot be gained in this area.

Unbalanced, I crashed to the ground face-first. Sitting up, I swore bitterly. The reason for the spell’s failure was obvious. My telekinesis skill was too low. The only silver lining was that my concealment hadn’t been broken.

With a sigh, I rose to my feet. This may take a while.

~~~

It took me five more attempts before I was successfully able to cast the spell. And then predictably, I fouled the next maneuver and crashed face first into the wall, scratching futilely for the seam that was only inches above my reaching fingers.

After another ten failed attempts—with a meditation break between to regain my psi—I was getting desperate. I was too stubborn to quit, but I was no longer certain I could defeat the wall.

Come on, Michael, you can do this.

Standing still, I breathed in deeply and took a minute to settle myself. I mapped out in my mind what I needed to do, picturing every step and move in exacting detail.

Exhaling a slow, controlled breath, I launched myself forward again. Two yards from the wall and timing the move to perfection, I leaped upwards, channeling psi as I went.

You have successfully one-stepped.

The air underfoot turned solid, and my left foot found purchase. In the same motion, I sprang upwards again and flung up my hands.

For a heartbeat, I sailed through the air, then crashed into the hard rockface, but my body was braced for the impact and my fingers blindly searched for purchase.

I found the seam.

Gravity yanked me downwards. My knuckles turned white with the strain, but to my relief, my grip held.

Yes! I exulted. I had done it, or the first part anyway. I was hanging four yards up on the crater wall. Bending back my head, I spotted my next objective: a deep crack about a yard above the seam I clung on to. I expected reaching it would be much easier.

Contorting my body weirdly, and using one-step to temporarily anchor my feet as I worked, I pulled my body up the rockface inch by inch, until finally my toes rested on the seam, and my fingers dug into the crack. From there, scaling the remaining one yard to the crater’s edge went off without a hitch.

You have left a safe zone.

Reaching the top, I rolled onto my back and breathed a sigh of relief. I had done it. I made it out of the safe zone alive.

~~~

My escape went unnoticed by the gang, and despite the cavern’s soft light, my stealth was sufficient to conceal me as I crept to the closest cavern wall. Bracing myself against the wall, I took stock of the area again.

Saben and Sigmar were still with the gang squads on the west ramp. A few yards to my left, the door to the goblin complex lay open, and directly across me, on the opposite side of the cavern, was the tunnel leading to the gang’s camp. Amongst the group guarding the east ramp, I thought I spotted Goral. He, like Saben, could see about as well as I could in the dark.

While I surveilled the chamber, Gnat glided down from the darkness to land on my shoulder. “Well done,” he whispered in my ear.

I didn’t reply as I considered my next move. My first priority was arming myself. Unfortunately, with both gang squads in the cavern alert and with candidates able to see in the dark, I could see no easy way to go do that. Which meant moving on to my next objective: finding Bornholm. There were two ways I could go about that.

One, retreat back through the goblin complex and maze, and make my way around to the gang’s camp from the other end. It would be a tortuously long journey, but safe.

Two, make for the gang’s camp more directly through the tunnel across me. It was likely guarded, and the risk of discovery would be greater.

I favored the second option. Time was of the essence. The gang was still hunting Bornholm’s people and the longer I took to reach them, the more of my allies would die. And besides, if the north tunnel was too well-guarded, I could always retreat and go the long way around through the maze.

The north tunnel it is, I decided. I glanced at the familiar on my shoulder. But first, I have to deal with Gnat.

With that in mind, I slipped back into the goblin complex. It was time for me and the skeletal bat to have a long-overdue discussion.

~~~

Ideally, I had wanted to have the conversation with Gnat while armed to the teeth and braced for anything. But given the recent events in Saben’s chamber, I didn’t think I could afford to put off my confrontation with the familiar any longer. And besides, if my suspicions were correct, I feared that if matters between the bat and I devolved to a fight, I was dead already.

Ducking into an empty chamber that was sufficiently far from the safe zone’s cavern that we wouldn’t be disturbed, I sat down cross-legged.

“Why have you come here?” Gnat asked.

I brushed the familiar off my shoulder and gestured him to a spot across me. He alighted on it obediently.

“We have to talk, Gnat,” I said.

The skeletal bat tilted his head to the side and looked at me curiously. “Talk?”

I held his gaze squarely. “Yes, talk. About whom you serve and your true purpose in accompanying me.”

“What nonsense is this?” Gnat asked, his tone dismissive. “I serve you of course.”

I shook my head. “No, you don’t. How did Stayne find me?”

“You think I told him?” Gnat asked scornfully. “Preposterous! Saben must have informed him.”

“Saben serves Ishita. He had no reason to inform Stayne of my whereabouts. Try again.”

“Then it was Sigmar,” Gnat said, disinterest lacing his voice.

“Possibly,” I allowed. I still don’t know if Sigmar was sworn to any amongst the Dark. He could very well have given his allegiance to Stayne. Letting the point be, I moved on. “How did Stayne know about the wolves?”

“I don’t know.” The bat feigned a yawn. “Enough with the questions. Can we get going now?”

I wasn’t buying his pretense. “Not good enough, Gnat. Answer me.”

Gnat scowled. “How should I know? Maybe he scryed you out from afar!”

“Unlikely. Why would he go to all that trouble for some random candidate?” I shook my head again. “I know you are lying to me, Gnat.” I held up my hand to still his protest. “What I want to know is why.” I stared at the bat coldly, making certain he saw my resolve. “If you don’t come clean, then I will sever our Pact.”

This at last seemed to shake Gnat. “You don’t want to do that, Michael,” he said softly.

I nodded. “I suspect you are right about that. But if you leave me no other choice, I will.”

“Are you sure you want to know?” Gnat asked, the luminous orbs of his eyes glinting. “You will be turning down a dangerous path if you do this.”

I smiled wryly. “There has been nothing safe—or easy—about my journey ever since I got to this world.” My face hardened. “Tell me.”

“Very well.” Gnat sighed. “I did not tell Stayne about you, or the wolves. I don’t serve him. But,” he allowed, “Stayne may have found out about you from the one I told.”

“You informed the Master,” I stated.

“I did,” Gnat admitted. “I am bound to him by ties greater than the ones I have to you.” He met my eyes. “It is my duty, and that of every other familiar to report any unusual occurrences we observe.”

“So the familiars are spies?”

“We are.”

I had suspected as much, but I feared that spying was the least of their tasks. “That is not your only function though, is it?”

Gnat did not try dodging the question this time. “It isn’t. I’m also obliged to contact the Master’s death squads when it is certain a candidate has rejected the path he has set for them.”

My eyes narrowed. “Contact how?”

“With an aether magic spell that sends a distress signal to them. They will then open a portal to my location, and send through the kill team.”

“I see. What happens if I break our Pact?”

“I contact the Master.”

“And if I attack you?”

“I contact the Master,” Gnat replied, just as evenly.

I was unsurprised by the familiar’s answers. It was what I had been afraid of all along. I thought for a moment. “Do you report to the Master through the aether too?”

“No. Such magic is too advanced for me. My reports are delivered personally.” Gnat gestured upwards. “You cannot see it from here, but there is a small opening in the ceiling above that connects to a second tunnel network that overlays the dungeon itself. It leads directly to the Master’s domain.”

I glanced up, but true to Gnat’s words, could see no opening. “How many times have you reported on me?”

“Thrice.”

I winced. “Tell me about them.”

“The first time was during your battle with the goblin chief. Once it—”

“Why did you report then?”

“Your interactions with the wolves were… unusual, and it was beginning to look like you might actually triumph against the boss. Both events were worthy of reporting.”

“And what did the Master make of your report?”

“His interest was roused,” Gnat replied. “Before I returned to you, the Master cast a psionic shield over me.”

“Why would he do that?”

Gnat shrugged. “To shield me from the dire wolves I suspect. They are natural telepaths.”

I nodded. “And the second time?”

“When the bronze chests appeared. The Master scryed you out himself after that.”

I shuddered. “Why?”

“To make sure you didn’t receive a Light or Shadow Class.” Gnat looked at me solemnly. “If you had received a non-dark aligned Class the Master would have acted immediately.”

I didn’t have to ask him how the Master would have acted. I could well imagine. “And when was the third time?”

Gnat fidgeted. “That wasn’t at my behest,” he said, sounding puzzled.

I looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Vomer, one of the merchants, slipped me a handwritten note to pass on to the Master. It was after the Master received the merchant’s report that he sent Stayne to find you.”

My eyes narrowed. “When exactly was this?”

“It was during your first visit to the grey merchant.” Before I could ask, Gnat added, “I could see—but not hear—your conversation from above.”

I rubbed my chin in consideration. “Can other players see my Classes, Gnat?”

“Only if their insight is high enough.”

The pieces were falling into place. Vomer must have observed my Class evolve from scout to nightstalker and reported it. The Master’s interest in me was troubling, but it perhaps gave me a bit of leeway to work with. This is something I can use.

I turned back to Gnat. “Thank you for your candor Gnat,” I said gravely. “I assume that this conversation is something else you must report to the Master?”

The bat bobbed his head. “It is.”

“Then I want you to carry a message of my own back to the Master.”

Gnat looked startled, but he waited patiently to hear what I had to say.

I closed my eyes, and took a moment to compose my thoughts. “Tell the Master that I will assume a Dark Mark as he wishes. But I ask that I be allowed go about it my own way. Request that he keep Stayne away. I intend on killing those who’ve betrayed me: Saben, Sigmar, and all that follow them, and I ask that the Master does not interfere. Let me go about my vengeance unimpeded.” Opening my eyes, I glanced at Gnat. “Do you think that will satisfy the Master?”

The bat snorted. “It just might, assuming you can pull it off.”

“Well, then,” I said rising to my feet. “I better get started.”

Chapter 75: Turning the Tables

I watched Gnat fly up to the ceiling and hoped I had done the right thing.

I knew I had no other choice. I had to pacify the Master in some manner and keep Stayne off my back. Direct confrontation with Gnat was ill-advised which only left co-opting the Master’s aid.

At least for now.

I needed time. Time to deal with Saben and Sigmar, and time to find another way out the damn sector. And then perhaps, I could risk the Master’s wrath.

The familiar disappeared from sight. Slipping into the shadows, I made my way back to the safe zone cavern. Gnat had promised he would not be gone long, and that on his return he would find me. It seemed that our Pact allowed him to home into my location from anywhere.

Back in the cavern, I saw that the position of the two gang squads had not changed. I found it curious that neither Saben or Sigmar had joined in on the gang’s hunt for Bornholm, but was grateful nonetheless for their inactivity. Hugging the wall, I crept past the east ramp and the squad accompanied by Goral, and slipped into the north tunnel without incident.

The passage stretched out before me, as barren and as pitch-black as before. The tension in my shoulders eased. I still had a mammoth task ahead of me, but being enfolded by darkness made everything seem possible. I tiptoed through the tunnel with my senses extended, but encountered no obstacles, at least not until I reached the chokepoint.

The guard post was manned again.

There were four guards on watch, two mages, and a pair of fighters. While the guards were relaxed, there was no talking amongst them, and they appeared alert. The half-wall of loot chests had been removed too, and the illumination in the area increased. Magelights floated above both mages, supplementing the torches’ light with magic. So they are learning to fear the dark, I thought. Good.

Neither of the fighters was heavily armed. Both were dressed in leather armor and bore swords or daggers on their hips. Reaching out with my will, I cast analyze.

The target is Darnell, a level 11 elf.

The target is Martin, a level 12 human.

The target is Susa, a level 11 lizardman.

The target is Cathar, a level 13 elf.

I bit at the inside of my lip, wondering if I should retreat. It was the safer course, but if I managed to charm one—or even two—guards, and kill another in the process, I thought the encounter was winnable. Though even if my attack was a complete success, at some point the guards would be missed and the gang alerted to my presence.

Still, the opportunity to rearm myself could not be ignored. I might not get a better chance than this.

It’s worth the risk, I thought and slipped further back into the shadows, about as far back I could go while still retaining line of sight to the guards. Picking my target, I cast simple charm.

Darnell has failed a mental resistance check! You have charmed your target for 10 seconds.

I smiled as the spell worked on the first attempt, and the elven fighter fell under my control. “Attack,” I whispered, directing my new minion’s efforts toward his fellow fighter—the human.

Darnell unsheathed his longsword and buried it into his target’s torso. The human fighter screamed and stumbled away. The blow wasn’t fatal though.

“He’s here,” Martin gasped. He pressed one hand against his side, and with his other, he drew a shortsword. “Leave Darnell to me! You two find the bastard!”

I pursed my lips. My minion’s initial attack had been less successful than I hoped. Still, despite the human fighter’s brave words, I thought he was too badly injured to prevail against the charmed elf. Turning my attention to the mages, I began casting again.

The pair had spun about and were scanning the darkened passage, but I was too well hidden for them to spot. Unfortunately, that was not the only action they took. The two magelights, fixed above the spellcaster’s position, bobbed forward to search the passage.

Two hostile entities have failed to detect you!

My trepidation increased as the magical orbs drew closer, brightening the shadows surrounding me, but I thought I had enough time to finish my spell and didn’t break off from my casting.

A moment later, my preparations completed and I reached out with my mind to the lizardman, attempting to subvert his will.

You have failed to charm your target. You may not bewitch more than one target at a time with simple charm. Your mental intrusion has been detected!

I cursed under my breath. The spell’s limitation caught me off guard, leaving my plan in tatters. With all four guards alive and with the magelights still advancing, I had no choice but to retreat. I rose to my feet and fled back down the tunnel.

Two hostile entities have failed to detect you!

The bobbing searchlights had drawn closer, but even in the tunnel’s new half-light my sneaking was high enough to remain undetected—at least for now. Another pair of Game messages dropped in my mind.

Your minion has been critically injured!

Your minion has killed Martin.

The unexpected report caused me to pause in my step. It changed the complexion of the encounter: one guard was down and another badly wounded. Dare I go back? I wondered.

Now that the guards were aware of my presence, retreating was just as dangerous as returning to the fight. If I kept fleeing, the mages would likely pursue me all the way back to the safe zone. If that happened, I would be in serious trouble.

Better to face the mages, I decided.

Spinning about, I raced towards the spellcasters, forgoing stealth altogether as I hurtled through their magelights.

Two hostile entities have detected you!

“There he is!”

“Freeze him!”

Expecting an attack, I bobbed and weaved. To further confound the mages’ aim, I drew on my psi again to cast one-step.

You have failed to one-step.

Predictably, I failed to cast the spell the first time, but I persisted in my efforts and eventually managed the casting. The spell didn’t slow me down and added to the randomness of my trajectory, which was enough to make the effort worthwhile. Halfway into my charge, another message arrived.

You have lost control over Darnell.

I didn’t let the latest Game report dissuade me. I was committed to my course now, and besides the elven fighter was injured. And when it came down to it, even three-to-one odds were better than what I would face in the cavern.

A bolt of ice rushed towards me. Not slowing down, I sidestepped the projectile. Another spell—a fire dart—flew at me. Rolling forward, I ducked beneath it. From up ahead, I heard the lizardman chanting, starting a more complex, and likely more dangerous, spell.

I sprang out of my roll and risked a glance backwards. Distracted by their own attacks, the spellcasters had not redirected their magelights. The two orbs hung stationary a few yards behind me, leaving a pool of shadow between them and the guard station.

I smiled. Careless. I changed direction abruptly, breaking my forward momentum to dash to the right. After two steps, I stilled suddenly and drew the shadows around me.

You are hidden once more.

“Where’d he go?” I heard Darnell mutter. The elven fighter sounded as if he was in pain.

The lizardman broke off his chanting. “Locate him!” he hissed. “I can’t cast my spell without a target!”

The elven fighter stumbled forward, his steps dragging. The magelights began moving my way as well, but I was already deep in a casting and ignored them. My spell completed and I reached out with my will.

Cathar has passed a mental resistance check! You have failed to charm your target. Your mental intrusion has been detected!

I growled in frustration at the failure and swapping targets, started again.

“He’s in my mind!” the elven mage screamed, sounding panicked. “Find him quickly!”

“I’m trying,” Darnell wheezed, “but the coward is hiding.”

A heartbeat passed, then another, then the magelights reached me. Hovering over my still form, they revealed my location.

Three hostile entities have detected you!

“There he is,” Susa hissed. “Get him!”

“I’m going,” Darnell snarled and limped forward. A dagger was stuck in his thigh, and he was moving poorly. The fighter wouldn’t reach me in time to stop my casting, I judged.

But the two mages weren’t waiting for their companion. Lowering their wands, they sent their own attacks racing towards me.

In the midst of my casting, I watched wide-eyed as the ice bolt and fire dart hurtled towards me. I couldn’t dodge away from the projectiles. If I did, I would interrupt my own spell. With only a spilt-second to decide, I braced myself for the impact, and hurried through my spell as fast as I dared.

An ice bolt has injured you! A fire dart has injured you! You have passed a physical resistance check! Spellcasting uninterrupted.

Fire splashed over the bare flesh of my thigh, and ice crackled over my torso, seeping into my bones. The pain was excruciating. But despite the twin blows, I didn’t drop the weaves of the spell I was constructing in my mind.

“He’s still casting!”

“Hit him again!”

My spell completed and I flung it at the lizardman.

Susa has failed a mental resistance check! You have charmed your target for 10 seconds.

I smiled thinly. I’d done it. Now to finish this.

“Attack Darnell,” I ordered my minion, then set off running. My body protested. The burnt skin on my legs tore open further and my torso felt unaccountably heavy. I gritted my teeth against the pain and kept going. Angling around the approaching fighter, I ran towards the mages.

Darnell was still a few feet away and moved to intercept me. But with his leg injured, he was not fast enough to stop me.

Another set of magical projectiles erupted out of the mages’ wands, one rushing towards me, the other towards the fighter. I twisted out of the way of the fire dart and resumed my charge.

Darnell was not so quick. The elf was unprepared for the attack and was hit squarely in the chest by the ice projectile. With a groan, he collapsed to his knees. He was far from dead, but the attack had slowed him further.

The elven mage’s eyes widened, only then realizing his fellow spellcaster had been charmed. He spun about and lowered his wand at the bewitched lizardman. The threat went unheeded by my minion. Raising his wand again, Susa sent another ice bolt hurtling towards Darnell, even as his companion’s fire dart sizzled into him from pointblank range.

I ignored the trio’s three-way battle and made straight for the dead human fighter. His shortsword had fallen by his side. Dashing forward, I picked it up. My target was preoccupied and had his back turned to me.

Lunging forward, I plunged the blade into Cathar’s back. The elven mage shrieked and tried to turn around, but using my momentum and body weight, I bore him to the ground. Slapping my left hand across the elf’s shoulder, I stunned him before cutting into him again with the sword in my right hand.

I had to repeat the combo twice more before the elven mage finally died. Rolling off the corpse, I took stock of the battle. Darnell, still some way off, was barely moving, and Susa’s entire left side had been burned to a crisp. But despite that, the lizardman hadn’t let up with his attacks, and as I watched another ice bolt raced towards the downed fighter.

I rose to my feet and positioned myself behind the mage. Seconds later, my spell lapsed. The lizardman crashed to his knees with a whimper of pain as the weaves of psi around his mind dissipated. He was too far gone to even stand, I realized. My spell had been all that was holding him up.

Pitilessly, I drew back the unresisting mage’s head and slit his throat. Then I strode to Darnell’s side and did the same.

It was over. I had triumphed.

Chapter 76: Twelve Hours to Live

Multiple Game messages awaited my attention, and I perused them quickly.

Your insight has increased to level 26. Your telekinesis has increased to level 7. Your telepathy has increased to level 13. Your chi has increased to level 9. Your sneaking has increased to level 39. Your dodging has increased to level 26.

Warning! Your psi is at 10%. Warning! Your health is at 80% and will not recover without healing.

I had to meditate and restore my psi at some point, but first I had to loot the bodies and put some distance between me and the guard post. My health, I couldn’t do anything about, not until I found a healing potion.

I looted the two fighters first, and between them managed to put together a full and undamaged leather armor set.

You have equipped a set of basic leather armor. This item set reduces the physical damage you sustain by: 15%, and based on your current light armor skill penalizes your Magic and Dexterity by: 45%. Current modifiers: Dexterity skills and abilities limited to rank 4.

The mages carried nothing of value to me, not even a coin pouch. Still their robes and wands were possibly of use to Morin and Tantor, and I stripped the bodies of both.

Martin’s dagger and sheath I took as well, even though the weapon was of limited use to me.

You have acquired 1 basic steel dagger. You lack the proper skill to wield this item. Weapon bonuses will not be received and weapon-based abilities will be disabled. Abilities can only be used with a weapon with which you are proficient.

I added Darnell’s longsword to the items I took from the mages and bundled the pile together. Carrying the bundle on my back, I headed back up the passage and concealed myself. Then sitting down, I began to meditate.

~~~

Meditation completed. Your psi is now at 100%. Your meditation has increased to level 24.

A short while later, I opened my eyes. I had finished meditating without being disturbed and my psi was fully restored. About to rise to my feet, a patch of white attracted my notice.

It was Gnat. The familiar was back.

I turned his way, feeling sudden trepidation as I wondered about the message he carried. “The Master wishes to speak to you directly,” Gnat said without preamble. “I will act as his conduit.”

Before I could respond, a cloud of dense black formed beneath the skeletal bat’s hovering form.

“Michael,” a softly spoken voice called through the swirling darkness. It was the Master. “Gnat tells me you wish to bargain?”

“I do,” I replied, straining to keep my voice firm.

“And what makes you think I would be interested in a deal with you?” the Power asked, coldly amused.

You’re here, aren’t you? I thought, but didn’t voice the words out aloud. “I will bind myself to the Dark,” I said instead, ignoring his question altogether, “in exchange for your non-interference while I pursue my vengeance.”

“Revenge,” the Master mused. “It is a worthy goal for a Darksworn.”

“Then we have a deal?”

The Power did not reply immediately. The dark cloud from which his voice emanated pulsed ominously while I waited in anxious silence. “No,” the Master said at last.

“No?” I repeated, my heartbeat quickening. Why not? I wanted to rant, but managed to restrain myself. What would I do if the he refused to deal?

“It is not enough,” the Master said.

“Then what is?” I asked tersely.

“Your allegiance, sworn directly to me.”

Dread curdled in me. The Master was asking for more than I’d bargained. I’d known venturing down this path would be risky, but there was no backing out now. I had no illusions. If I didn’t manage to strike a deal with the Power, I fully expected to be dead within the hour.

“If I do as you ask, will you give me the freedom to do what I must?” I asked. This is madness, an inner voice protested. I ignored it.

“I will not stay my hand indefinitely,” the Master replied. “I will give you twelve hours only. “Will that suffice?”

A vein throbbed at my temple. Twelve hours? Would it be enough? It will have to be. I nodded slowly.

“Excellent,” the Master said, his voice still emotionless. “Step forward and place your hand in the cloud then, and I will form the Pact between us.”

I hesitated. How much did the Power want this deal? Up to this point, his manner had given nothing away. But that he was here indicated more than a modicum of interest. How much room do I have to maneuver? I exhaled softly. “Not yet,” I said.

The black cloud stilled. “Do not toy with me, boy,” the Master replied, the first edge of anger entering his voice. “I am here at your behest. If you refuse my bargain, you will not enjoy the consequence.”

“I have a counter-proposal,” I said hurriedly.

For a drawn-out moment there was no response. “Go on,” the Master said finally.

“I will accept your time limit,” I said, speaking rapidly. “But I have a condition of my own. Our Pact will only be valid while I remain in the sector.”

The Master laughed. “You think to escape the dungeon?”

There was no point denying the truth. “If I can.”

“How?” the Master asked, sounding genuinely curious. “I can see that you carry no Dark Mark. The portal will not open for you. And lest you think to purchase a Dark Class from my merchants, they’ve been instructed not to sell to you.”

So even the deal that Stayne offered me was rigged, I thought. I shrugged. “Still, I will try. Are we in agreement?”

“What of your vaunted vengeance?” the Master asked.

“I will pursue it too,” I said, allowing my determination to show.

The Master chuckled. His attention seemed to shift upwards. “Do you believe him?”

“I do, Master,” Gnat replied.

“Do we have a deal?” I repeated.

The Power was silent for a moment. “We do. Step forward and I will seal the Pact between us.”

My nerves tingling, I placed my hand in the dark cloud. A game message opened in my mind.

Initiating a Pact between the Power known as the Master and the player, Michael…

~~~

Agreeing upon the exact wording of the Pact took longer than expected.

The initial phrasing was at the Master’s direction. I found it too vague and outright rejected the proposal. To my surprise, the Power did not protest my refusal and before I could blurt out a hurried explanation, a new Pact appeared in my mind, one whose revised wording I found far more palatable.

I accepted immediately.

Only for the Master to refuse the proposal.

It turned out that the process of forming a Pact was mediated by the Adjudicator. It made me wonder if I could have altered the original terms of the Pact formed between Gnat and me, but I suspected the Master would not have allowed me any leeway then.

It took several iterations, but finally the Master and I reached consensus on a Pact whose terms we both found agreeable.

You have sealed a Pact with the Power known as the Master. The terms are as follows: For the next twelve hours, all players and creatures sworn in service to the Master are forbidden from attacking you. This only holds true while you take no hostile action against said creatures and players. At the end of the allotted time, if you remain in sector 14,913, you will swear allegiance to the Master and the Pact will be fulfilled. Alternatively, if you leave the sector any time before the allotted time, the Pact will also be considered fulfilled.

This Pact may not be terminated by either party. Once the Pact has been fulfilled a 7-day non-aggression Pact will be enforced between the parties.

The non-aggression Pact had been the biggest sticking point—I had wanted a year, the Master, none—but finally, seeming to be annoyed by the entire process, the Master had agreed to a week. Once the Pact was sealed, he vanished immediately leaving me alone with Gnat again.

“Phew,” I muttered and wiped the sweat from my brow, feeling drained.

“You play a dangerous game,” Gnat murmured. “If you somehow escape pledging yourself to the Master, he will not let you go. He will hunt you down and his punishment will be merciless.” Gnat’s luminous white eyes pulsed. “Believe me Michael, you don’t want to experience the Master’s wrath.”

I nodded wholehearted agreement. I had gotten what I was after though, even if the consequence of failure was a bit more than I had bargained for.

Twelve hours to kill Saben and Sigmar, and find a way out of the sector. It was not a lot of time, but it would have to be enough.

I rose to my feet. It was time to get to work.

~~~

I returned unseen to the safe zone cavern first, and dropped the bundle of looted items down the crater at the same spot from which I emerged. That way if the worst befell me, then at least Tantor and Morin would have something to work with.

Having done what I could for the pair, I raced through the north passage, only slowing down when I reached the gang’s camp.

Concealed in the darkness and ready to flee at a moment’s notice I crept into the cavern. Saben’s original gang had numbered about seventy, and given the two dozen in the safe zone cavern and the four guards I had just killed, that still left as many as forty unaccounted for—which was a lot for little old me to take on my own.

Of course, some of those forty had probably not been resurrected after suffering final death in the earlier battle. The problem was I had no way of knowing how many that could be, and had to be prepared for the worst.

But after long moments of scrutinizing the gang’s camp, I realized it was empty. I frowned. Where was everyone? I expected to find at least a token guard in the cavern, but it was to all appearance completely deserted. With nothing to hold me back, I slipped into the camp, passing silent rows of tents and dead campfires. At the camp’s center, I paused.

Equipment of all type and sorts had been piled high in a large heap. Where the gear had come from was no mystery. It had to have been looted from the dead. I was surprised, though, that no one was guarding it. I studied the surroundings with a wary gaze, but spotted nothing that smelled of a trap. I inched closer to the discarded equipment.

Still nothing jumped out of me.

I shrugged and, accepting my good fortune for what it was, began rifling through the pile. It became apparent pretty soon that all the gear in the heap were basic starter items, which partially explained why it had been left unguarded. Still, I managed to get another serviceable sword, and a belt with potion slots on it.

You have acquired a basic steel shortsword. This item increases the damage you deal by: 10%.

You have acquired a slotted-potion belt. This item can hold up to: 10 potion flasks.

Of course, there were no potion flasks on the belt itself, but I hadn’t lost hope yet of recovering my lost gear. Discarding the dagger I had been carrying, I sheathed my new shortsword and felt new confidence fill me now that I was properly armed again.

Straightening, I considered my next move. The tunnel to the east was where I had to go to find Bornholm’s people. Given my time limit, I needed to hurry, and my first instinct was to head directly that way.

But almost of my own volition, my eyes were drawn west, in the direction of Saben’s chambers. If my backpack was to be found anywhere it was likely there. While time was of the essence, I knew I could not afford to die again. The eight hours spent resurrecting alone would wipe out two thirds of my deadline. And more than anything else, I needed my healing potions.

Searching Saben’s chambers shouldn’t take long. An hour, no more. Then I’ll go looking for Bornholm.

Decided, I slipped into the western tunnel.

~~~

The passage to Saben’s chambers was just as deserted as the camp. Even so, when I reached the first strands of spiderwebs, I redoubled my efforts at caution. I was not about to be caught out by the same trick again.

Halting every few steps, I prodded the silk strands with my swords and confirmed nothing lurked beneath. My caution proved unnecessary though. The webs were empty. But three feet from Saben’s chamber, a booming laugh broke the silence, giving me fresh cause for concern.

I froze.

The laughter was shocking loud, and appeared to be coming from within the chamber. “You idiot! Stop fooling around!” a voice growled.

“You should have seen your face,” another said.

I frowned. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“That was childish,” the first protested.

“It’s your own fault,” the second pointed out. “You shouldn’t have dozed off.”

My eyes widened, finally recognizing the speaker. It was Markus. My lips tightened in an unpleasant smile. It was time for payback.

“I was not sleeping!” the first protested.

Bracing my back against the chamber’s entrance, I peered carefully around the edge of the wall.

“You were!”

Markus and another gang member I didn’t know were alone inside. They were guarding a small pile of looted equipment and appeared oblivious of my presence.

I took my time and rechecked the cavern. I still didn’t detect anyone else. I tightened my grip on my swords, wondering if this was some sort of trap. But a trap here didn’t make sense. For all Saben and Sigmar knew, I was still stuck in the safe zone.

I slipped inside the room, exploiting the thugs’ distraction. Given that there were only two enemies, I didn’t bother with charm. Drawing on my psi, I cast one-step as I closed the distance.

I was still a few yards away from the pair, when Markus spotted me out of the corner of his eye. His head whipped around and his eyes widened.

“You should see your face,” I murmured in mockery of his earlier words. I didn’t give him time to react though and dashed forward.

The gang member fumbled for his still-sheathed blade, but before he could draw it, I lunged and buried my sword in his throat. I withdrew the blade, and Markus fell lifelessly to the floor.

I sensed a weapon rushing down on me from my right. I sidestepped, evading the blow. The thug attacked again, swinging his broadsword in a mighty arc. I dodged the second attack just as easily, but instead of darting in to seize the glaring opening my opponent had left, I stepped back. “Can we talk?”

The thug snarled and lunged at me in response.

I slipped past the blow with laughable ease. “Look, if you tell me what I want, I’ll let you go.”

Once more, I was ignored. Hefting his broadsword above his head, my foe brought it crashing down—on empty ground. I was long gone.

I sighed from behind the fighter. He really wasn’t any good, and even though he was in full chainmail I foresaw no problems with disarming him. But given the thug’s reticence, I suspected I would have to question him quite harshly to get the information I needed.

Thinking about what I might need to do made me a little queasy, but I didn’t let it deter me. If I was going to take down Saben’s gang, I needed to know more about their numbers and whereabouts. I had other reasons too. Reasons less certain, but no less important.

Enough of this, I thought. Dashing forward, I touched one of my blades to the fighter, crippling his arm and causing him to lose hold of his sword. Dropping my second blade, I stun-slapped the thug, then rammed my shoulder into him.

The fighter stumbled, but didn’t fall. I repeated the maneuver and this time, he fell face forward. Before he could recover, I straddled my foe’s body and proceeded to beat at his skull with the pommel of my sword, only stopping, when he fell unconscious.

~~~

The fighter—his name was Jorin—came too to find he had been stripped of his armor, and that his hands had been tied together.

“Ready to talk now?” I asked, from my position across him.

A hard stare was my only response.

“Where is the rest of your gang?”

He glared back silently.

“How many men does Saben have?”

No response.

I sighed. “It’s better if you cooperate. Don’t doubt that I won’t resort to harsher measures if necessary.”

“Do your worst,” Jorin spat. “Hurt me as much as you wish, I won’t talk!”

“Oh, I’m not going to hurt you,” I replied evenly. “You’re going to do that all by yourself.”

A frown flitted across his face, before he replaced it with a sneer. “You’re some sort of fool, or what?” he mocked.

“Maybe I am,” I murmured. Forgoing further banter, I drew on my psi and cast simple charm.

Jorin has failed a mental resistance check! You have charmed your target for 10 seconds.

Yanking on the mental leash I held around his mind, I directed Jorin’s attention to one of the chamber’s walls. “Run,” I ordered.

The fighter staggered to his feet, and obedient to my will, ran full tilt towards the solid, rock wall. He hit hard, and I winced at the impact. As Jorin collapsed to the floor, the expected Game message dropped into my mind.

You have taken hostile action against your minion! Control of target lost.

Rising to my feet, I approached the dazed fighter and knelt by his side. He gazed up at me, his eyes still unfocused.

“Now,” I said gently, “if I can make you do that, imagine what else I can force you to do.”

It was all a lie of course. The simple charm spell didn’t allow me to direct my minions to self-harm. The imperative for self-preservation was too strong to be overcome by such a basic spell. The best I could manage was to make Jorin indirectly injure himself. But I was betting Jorin knew none of this.

Jorin blanched, finally comprehending my threat. “W-w-what did you do to me?”

“Mind control,” I said succinctly. “Shall we find out what else I can do?” I asked, letting a cruel smile dance on my face.

The fighter just stared back at me, his face white.

“Still won’t talk? Oh well.” I rose to my feet. “Let’s try this again.”

Jorin’s eyes bulged. “No! Wait, please! I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just don’t do that again!”

I smiled coldly. “Good, then let’s begin.”

Chapter 77: Backup Gear

Jorin had a lot to say.

Most of it was irrelevant and much I simply didn’t believe. According to the fighter, Saben and Sigmar had already lost half of their gang to final death.

If Jorin was to be believed, other than the two dozen fighters in the safe zone cavern, only ten more gang members remained. He even claimed Bornholm and all his people were alive and unharmed—which was preposterous. The dwarf, I was sure, would never side with the gang.

I compelled Jorin to run into the wall twice more after that, but sadly his tale didn’t change and eventually I was forced to concede it wouldn’t—not unless I took more drastic measures. Which I wasn’t prepared to do. Despite my determination to eke out what information I could from the thug, I had already gone as far as I was willing to.

I had to be satisfied with what I had.

I rose to my feet and looked down at my captive. “Thank you, Jorin,” I said gravely. “You’ve been a great help.”

He jerked his head upwards towards me. “Are you going to let me go now?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said softly and sliced open his throat.

~~~

I stayed with the fighter, until he gasped his last breath. I wasn’t pleased by what I had done, but I thought my actions were warranted.

A necessary evil.

I swallowed back bile at the thought. Such justifications were a slippery slope, I knew, and I had to be careful with how far down this path I went, or I could lose my way entirely. Putting the fighter out of my mind, I turned my attention to other matters.

A few more Game messages had opened in my mind. Some of my skills had advanced and I had gained another level. I didn’t have to think too hard about deciding how to spend my new attribute point.

Your Dexterity has increased to rank 11. Current modifiers: -5 ranks in Dexterity. Dexterity skills and abilities limited to rank 6.

After seeing to the changes, I pulled up my player profile.

Player Profile (Basic): Michael

Level: 21. Rank: 2. Current Health: 80%.

Stamina: 70%. Mana: 100%. Psi: 90%.

Species: Human. Lives Remaining: 2.

Marks: Wolf-friend, Lesser Shadow, Lesser Light.

Classes: Nightstalker Rank 1, Psionic Rank 1.

Class point: 1 available.

Attributes (0 points available)

Strength: 2. Constitution: 5. Dexterity: 11. Perception: 8. Mind: 5. Magic: 0. and Faith: 0.

Traits

Undead familiar, Wolven, Beast tongue, Metamind, Marked, Nocturnal.

Skills (1 slot available)

Dexterity: Dodging: 27. Sneaking: 39. Shortswords: 35. Two weapon fighting: 31. Thieving: 1.

Constitution: Light armor: 20.

Mind: Chi: 9. Meditation: 24. Telekinesis: 10. Telepathy: 15.

Perception: Insight: 26.

Abilities

Crippling blow, minor backstab, simple charm, stunning slap, basic analyze, one-step.

Known Key Points

Sector 14,913 exit portal and safe zone.

Equipped

2 basic steel shortswords (+10% damage each).

slotted-potion belt (empty).

basic leather armor set (+15% damage reduction, -5 Dexterity).

With my progression seen to, I rose to my feet and searched Markus and Jorin’s corpses. Other than their weapons and armor, both thugs carried little upon them, and I moved on to the heap of equipment they had been guarding.

The pile turned out to be the very gear our party had lost in this chamber. The items looked like they had been dumped here for sorting later. Morin and Tantor’s equipment had been basic, consisting of items looted from the goblin complex, and I didn’t bother recovering any of it. Decalthiya’s armor was too heavy to lug away and I left it behind too.

Which left only my own gear.

I spotted my backpack buried underneath Decalthiya’s armor. Pulling it free, I peered inside anxiously.

A relieved smile lit my face when I saw everything was exactly as I had left it. After popping a ration cube in my mouth and quenching my thirst with water, I filled my belt slots with my healing potions. Then, I searched out my remaining gear.

It didn’t take me long to find my fighter’s sash and thief’s cloak, and I equipped both. My money pouch, though, was nowhere to be found.

I grimaced at the thought of my lost coins. I hadn’t been carrying much, but still—

I paused. Something else occurred to me. Neither Markus, nor any of the other gang members I’d just killed, had had any money on them either. I frowned. So where is all the money that the gang looted? I had questioned Jorin repeatedly about the gang’s treasure trove, but he’d insisted that the gang had none. I still wasn’t sure if I believed him though.

Straightening, I scanned the chamber. The only furnishings in the cavern were the bed and table on the left side. It didn’t take me long to examine both, but I came up empty.

I pursed my lips. The only other spots to hide something were behind the spiderwebs, but considering the volume of silk in the chamber, searching them would be a mammoth task, and not something I had time for.

Returning to the center of the chamber, I turned a slow circuit and scrutinized the walls. Nothing stood out to me though. Oh well, I thought, it would’ve been nice to find the gang’s stash. I was sure they had one, but it didn’t look like I was going to find it now.

Still, for the sake of thoroughness, I tried one more time. Walking along the perimeter of the room, I paused after every step to run my gaze along the webs enveloping the walls. Half-way through, I began to regret my decision. This is useless. I have what I came for, and its time I got—

You have found an anomaly! Your insight has increased to level 27.

I froze as the Game message popped into my mind. At the edge of my vision, I’d noticed an oddity. The thing that had attracted my attention was not something within in the webs as I’d expected, but was instead a curiously-straight groove cut in the floor less than a yard from me.

Bending down on my haunches, I inspected the spot in question more closely. The groove was definitely not natural. With a gentle hand, I brushed away the concealing dirt and uncovered three more straight-cut edges.

A hidden compartment had been set into the rock beneath. Sitting back, I scrutinized my find again, but nothing else triggered my insight.

Is it trapped?

I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t have the time necessary for a more careful and thorough examination. I bit my lip, wondering if I should open the compartment.

I have to.

I drew my shortsword and readied a full healing potion in my left hand. If I did trigger a trap, I would down the potion immediately. I knew opening the compartment was risky, but I needed to see what the gang kept in it. It could make all the difference between the success and failure of my mission.

Without further delay, I wedged my blade between one of the grooves and levered up the covering rock plate. It came free easily. Gripping the healing flask tightly in my left hand, I waited for a reaction.

The seconds ticked by slowly. Nothing.

I exhaled and felt my pulse returned to normal. The compartment wasn’t trapped, only hidden. Reaching inside, I retrieved a handful of items.

You have acquired 3 full healing potions, 3 moderate healing potions, and 3 minor healing potions.

You have acquired a coin pouch containing 91 golds, 4 silvers, and 9 coppers.

You have acquired a rank 1 shortsword, +1. This item increases the damage you deal by: 15% and has been enchanted to increase the wielder’s shortsword skill by +1 rank (10 skill points). This item requires a minimum Dexterity of 4 to wield.

You have acquired a rank 1 priest’s robe. This item decreases the faith-based damage you sustain by: 10%. This item requires a minimum Faith of 4 to equip.

You have acquired a master Class stone. This stone contains the path of: a blood siphon. It confers a player with four skills: dark magic, light resistance, scimitars, and leech. This Class also permanently boosts your Faith attribute by: +2, your Strength by: +2, and your Magic attribute by: +2. This is a Dark Class.

I couldn’t believe it. I had found the very item I needed to escape the dungeon, but I left its examination for last. I turned my attention to the rest of my new possessions.

There were no skillbooks or ability tomes, which was no surprise really. Those, I assumed the gang had found ready use for. In fact, given the items in evidence, it appeared the compartment was Saben’s stash of backup gear.

I was rich too, and assuming I could make it back to the safe zone without dying, I would not want for more skills or abilities. The enchanted blade was of the most immediate use, and without hesitation, I replaced one of my basic swords with it. Then, I downed two of the minor healing potions and restored myself to full health. Finally, I inspected the Class stone.

It was the only item that didn’t belong. Saben already had a master Class of his own, so he didn’t have need for it. What I couldn’t figure out though, was why he hadn’t given it to one of his elites.

“Wow, what stone is that?” Gnat asked.

I glanced at the familiar. He likely knew what it was already. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

Gnat ducked his head sheepishly. “It holds the blood siphon Class.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It is a lucky find indeed,” Gnat said, “and comes equipped with the leech and light resistance skills.”

I had been wondering about the skills myself. I hadn’t come across them before. “What do you know of them?”

The bat snickered. “Only that they are amongst the rarest skills in the Game. Both are master tier skills.”

My brows drew down. “What do they do?”

“Light resistance increases your resistance to life spells, and leech allows you to siphon any form of energy—including health—from your foe with each hit.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really,” Gnat said with a chuckle. “Most players would kill to get their hands on the Class.”

My gaze slid back to the marble in my hand. The desire to absorb the Class was nearly unbearable. The leech skill alone would make the Class worthwhile.

It was the perfect Class. Almost.

I couldn’t ignore the fact that it was force-aligned. I had bought myself some time through my Pact with the Master, but I wasn’t ready to commit myself yet. I would not be the Master’s puppet, nor the Dark’s if I could help it. I still held out hope of finding another way of escaping the dungeon. Reluctantly, I dropped the item into my backpack.

Gnat was watching me closely. “You aren’t going to assume the Class?” he asked, surprise lacing his voice.

“Maybe later.” I glanced at him. “You will report this to the Master?”

The skeletal bat nodded. “I must. Although, it will make no difference. The Master is constrained by the Pact from acting against you. Besides, he would likely award you with a similar Class once you swear allegiance to him.” He hesitated. “You should claim the Class, Michael, but you shouldn’t try using it to escape the dungeon.”

I shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll deal with the stone later. For now, I have work to do. How much time do I have remaining on the Master’s deadline?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Eleven hours, fifteen minutes.”

“Then, there is no more time to lose. Let’s go find Bornholm.”

Chapter 78: Spinning for Control

I made my way back to the gang’s camp without incident. My pockets were full, and my gear was better than it had been at any stage since I’d entered this world.

I felt ready for anything.

Reaching the camp, I found it still deserted, and I crossed the barren space quickly before ducking into the eastern tunnel. There I paused and took stock.

The tunnel was wide and torches had been set at regular intervals along the wall. All were lit and burning. No one was in sight so I crept up to nearest torch and inspected it more closely.

Its reservoir of oil was nearly full, which meant someone had been this way in the last few hours. With renewed caution, I advanced down the corridor. A hundred yards later, I stopped again. The tunnel had begun to snake sharply, but that was not what had caused me to stop.

There were people up ahead.

I could hear their voices, muffled by the distance, but distinct nonetheless. I drew both my blades. Slowing my steps further, I kept going. The voices grew louder, and I strained my ears for the least hint of danger.

A voice rang out. Louder than the others, the speaker’s words reverberated through the stone tunnel. “… let us out of here, you wretched fools!”

I paused. I knew that voice. It was Bornholm. Hope rekindled in my chest. If the dwarf was alive, then likely more of his people were as well. I hurried forward again, and presently another’s words became clear too.

“Stop your damn hollering, you blasted dwarf. I’m trying to sleep over here.”

“Just wait till I get my hands on you, witch!” Bornholm bellowed.

“That’s not happening,” the first speaker said, her voice oozing boredom. “You and the fools with you are never getting out of there. Now be quiet!”

Bornholm of course didn’t not stay silent. Swearing fit to wake the dead, he spewed out a long litany of curses. But I stopped listening as my surroundings changed abruptly.

I was no longer in a tunnel.

The passage’s sidewalls and floor had fallen away, and I found myself standing at the top of a slope looking down onto an immense cavern. A deep chasm ran from left to right along the cavern’s far end, and on the other side of it, lay another tunnel. Bornholm was standing in the tunnel mouth and facing him across the chasm, was his heckler.

Not wanting to be seen, I dropped into a crouch while I studied the scene below. Ten gang members were one hundred yards ahead of me, on the near side of the chasm. They were sitting at ease, laughing, and talking quietly amongst themselves—except for the one throwing rejoinders back at Bornholm. She was screaming nearly as loudly as the dwarven fighter.

Bornholm himself was thirty yards away from the thugs, separated from his foes by both the chasm, and a lowered portcullis guarding the tunnel entrance. Through the latticed grille metal, I spied others by the dwarf’s side, although they remained silent, letting him do all the talking.

Our lost army. So Jorin wasn’t lying, I thought.

A drawbridge spanned the darkness separating both groups, which explained how the dwarf and his people had gotten across the chasm in the first place, but it was presently raised. The controls for both the drawbridge and the portcullis were on the nearside of the chasm.

Bornholm and his people were trapped, and the ten thugs I saw were guarding the controls. I let my gaze rove over the area, searching for a way to free the trapped candidates.

A pathway lined with torches led down from the top of the slope to the bridge area, which itself was overflowing with torches. In my present position, I was in no danger of being seen, but creeping up unseen on the gang squad was out of the question. I would have to depend on charm instead. But even assuming I charmed one of my foes, two against nine were not great odds.

I could not defeat the guards alone. I needed help. I rested my gaze on the two control wheels for the drawbridge and portcullis.

I have to free Bornholm’s people first, then we can take care of the guards together.

Lowering the drawbridge would be a simple enough matter. I only needed to sever the ropes holding it up. Raising the portcullis, on the other hand, would take time. I would have to rotate the control wheel manually and bit by bit, haul back the ropes holding it down. At the same time, I would have to prevent the guards from interfering.

Aargh, this is not going to be easy.

~~~

I spent a minute analyzing the ten thugs. All were between level ten and twelve, which left me with a distinct advantage in combat, at least one-on-one.

Next, I worked to contact Bornholm. The only way I could think of getting the dwarf’s attention without alerting the thugs was by using charm.

On Bornholm himself.

I grimaced. I was sure this was not going to be pleasant for the dwarf, and I doubted he would appreciate the need, but it had to be done.

Drawing on the shadows to hide me, I crept around the top of the slope, until I was far from the torchlit path. Then I padded softly through the darkness until I reached the chasm’s edge. Bornholm was still hollering nonsense at the gang and was squarely in my sights.

I drew in a breath. Here goes. I reached out with my will and attempted to charm the dwarf.

Bornholm has passed a mental resistance check! You have failed to charm your target. Your mental intrusion has gone undetected!

My lips turned down, and I tried again.

Bornholm has failed a mental resistance check! You have charmed your target for 10 seconds.

Midstream, the dwarf’s flow of curses cut-off. I issued no commands. Sitting back on my haunches, I waited.

“What’s wrong?” his heckler called back. “Cat got your tongue?”

Bornholm didn’t respond. The seconds ticked by until eventually the psi leash around the dwarf’s mind dissipated.

You have lost control over Bornholm.

Now to see what he does.

The moment he was free, Bornholm pressed his face against the gate and clenched its bars in his mailed fists. Turning his head, left and right, he scanned the cavern.

As his head turned in my direction, I rose to my feet and let my stealth lapse. It was a risk, but a small one. I was standing in pitch darkness and that alone was enough to conceal me from all but those with night vision. Even they would have to be looking directly at me to spot me.

Bornholm’s eyes widened as he caught sight of me. I jerked my chin towards the control wheels. The dwarf’s gaze darted that way and he nodded slowly, seeming to understand what I meant. I gave him a thumbs up, then faded back into hiding and slipped towards the bridge area.

It was time for the next step.

~~~

My plan was simple. Tried and trusted too. I intended on charming the biggest and most well-armed of the thugs, and setting him on the others to act as a distraction while I released the drawbridge and unhinged the lever keeping the portcullis lowered.

With Bornholm and his people pushing up the gate on their end, and with me winding it on the control wheel, together we could hopefully release enough of the trapped candidates before the guards realized what was happening. But half-way to the bridge area, I was forced to revise my plans.

Bornholm was shouting again.

“Hey, you!” the dwarf bellowed. “Yes, I’m talking to you, lass! I’ve just about had it with your insults. I’m coming over there to wring your neck!”

Maria, the lass in question, laughed uproariously. “Of course, you are.”

What is he up to? I wondered.

“Just you wait,” Bornholm promised. Turning around, he motioned the mages and archers behind him forward. The spellcasters stuck their wands out the grille, and the archers shoved the points of their arrows through.

Seeing this, some of the guards got up. “What are they doing?” I heard one hiss.

“Whatever it is, it is bound to be something stupid,” Marcia muttered.

“FIRE!” Bornholm ordered in an earth splitting roar that caused some of the gang members to twitch involuntarily. About a dozen mage and archers released their attacks. Given the awkward angles involved, the projectiles were poorly directed and most ended up falling into the chasm, but a few of the missiles splattered on the end of the bridge near the guards.

More guards got up.

“Should we retaliate?” a thug asked.

Maria rounded on the speaker. “Of course not, you fool! From that distance and angle, they stand little chance of hitting us. Sit back down.”

But the guard didn’t sit back down. Neither did any of the others. Forming a line across the bridge, the thugs warily watched the trapped candidates.

I smiled, finally realizing what Bornholm was up to. The dwarf had come up with a much better distraction than I could have managed on my own. This will make my task much easier, I thought and crept towards the control wheel for the portcullis.

~~~

Bornholm’s efforts had served to get all the guards watching the trapped candidates across the chasm and not the control wheel behind them.

Ten hostile entities have failed to detect you!

Courtesy of the guard’s distraction, I slipped right up to my goal without being spotted—despite the brightness of the surroundings. The rope to raise and lower the portcullis was wound around a toothed wooden wheel that had been locked in place by a metal lever.

Kneeling besides the device, I gently eased the lever out of position and released the portcullis. Bornholm’s people could now push the gate up on their end unimpeded. Given the dwarf’s swift response to my appearance, I was betting he had his people ready to do just that once I gave word. Next, I snuck up to the drawbridge control wheel.

Ten hostile entities have failed to detect you!

There I paused. Before I released the bridge, I intended to add my own efforts to Bornholm’s distraction. Picking out a half-giant armored in plate mail from amongst the thugs, I cast simple charm.

Wuxi has failed a mental resistance check! You have charmed your target for 10 seconds.

I rose to my feet and drew my swords. “Attack,” I ordered. The half-giant pulled out his axe, and with a roar of rage, smashed the heavy weapon into the mage standing by his side.

Your minion has killed Gavin.

Chaos erupted amongst the guards. Not waiting to see how they reacted, I released the drawbridge lever and chopped down on the rope holding it up to speed its descent. It took two blows before the rope severed. With a resounding crash, the drawbridge crashed into place to span the chasm.

A hostile entity has detected you!

My head whipped upwards. Maria was staring at me wide-eyed. A second later, her eyes narrowed and she lowered her wand in my direction. Dashing forward, I stepped upwards and over the acid spit she hurled towards me.

You have successfully one-stepped. You have evaded Maria’s attack.

On my next step, I touched down on the ground. Seeing me escape her attack unscathed and still rushing towards her, Maria turned to flee. She was too slow though. Before she had taken more than a step away, I plunged both my blades through her back.

You have killed Maria.

An axe swept towards me from the right. I dived left and rolled away. Bouncing back to my feet, I risked a glance across the bridge.

Bornholm was watching me. Our gazes met and he raise his hammer in fierce salute. I nodded back, noting in passing that the dwarf’s people had already lifted the portcullis a foot above the ground, and the leanest amongst them—gnomes and elves—were already slipping beneath its sharpened ends.

Good, I thought. This battle is won. All I need to do now is survive. Returning my attention to the growing skirmish, I searched out another target.

Chapter 79: The Clock is Ticking

The battle did not last long after that.

With their leader Maria dead and Bornholm’s people streaming across the bridge, the remaining guards were helpless to stop us. I killed a few more of them, before disengaging altogether and leaving my allies to mop up.

When the last guard was seen to—his helm caved in by Bornholm no less—the dwarven fighter rushed up to me. I smiled in welcome as I saw his enthusiastic approach.

Too late, I realized that the dwarf wasn’t slowing down. Uh-oh. What does he mean to—

Before I could dodge away, the metal-clad fighter wrapped his thick arms around my waist, trapping me in a dwarfish bearhug. Lifting me off my feet, Bornholm swung me around. “Lad! I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you!” he crowed.

“Me too, Bornholm,” I managed to squeak. “Uhm, can you put me down?” I wheezed.

“What? Oh, sure,” he said, setting me down. He looked beyond me. “Where are the others?” Not waiting for my answer, he scowled. “What is Morin thinking, letting you do all this alone? Where is she?”

My smile faded. “No one else is coming, Bornholm,” I said sadly. “Your people are it.”

The dwarf looked at me as if he thought I was joking. “You’re kidding right. They can’t all be—”

I laid an arm on his shoulder, interrupting him. “I have a lot to tell you.” I swallowed, wondering how I was going to tell him about Sigmar’s betrayal and Decalthiya’s death. “Come, you will want to sit down for this.”

~~~

Bornholm took the news badly.

He bawled. He yelled. He pounded the ground with his fists.

I sat on the slopes with the rest of the candidates, and let him mourn. He was not alone in his grief. Many of the other candidates were in the throes of similar emotions. I was acutely aware of our time constraints, but I knew the candidates needed to come to terms with what had happened to their fellows before we could regroup and take the fight to the gang.

While I waited, I quietly questioned a few of the candidates about the prisoners they had gone in search of. It turned out they were all dead. The prisoners’ wrists had been slit and they had been left to bleed out slowly. When Bornholm and the others had found them at the end of eastern tunnel network after hours of searching, the prisoners’ bodies were still warm. It explained why none had been resurrected in the safe zone yet.

After that, I perused the changes to myself from the last skirmish. Once more, I had advanced, although for some of my skills the growth was miniscule. Most of my dexterity-based skills had reached rank three and their development had slowed significantly. Nonetheless, I was pleased with how my training was progressing.

My psi skills in particular were advancing apace. Even the lowest had reached rank one. As a result, my spell failures had greatly reduced, and I could now use them with greater confidence in battle.

I’m about as ready as I can be, I thought.

I turned to my familiar. “Time?” I asked softly.

“Ten hours, thirty minutes left,” Gnat replied.

I nodded and turned back to the dwarf. It was time for me to intervene. But Bornholm was done with his grieving and already stomping back towards me. “Where is he?” he demanded, yanking furiously at his beard.

I didn’t have to ask who he meant. “In the safe zone cavern with Saben.”

Bornholm’s eyes narrowed. “You have a plan?”

I nodded.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

I did. The dwarven fighter scowled when I was done. “That’s more complicated than this needs to be, lad. We have numbers on our side. We should just rush in and overwhelm them—quick and dirty.”

I shook my head. “Too risky. If Sigmar and Saben decide to retreat to the safe zone, our plan will be in shambles. They can stay holed up in there indefinitely. We do it my way.”

What Bornholm suggested was actually the safer option, but I was not about to tell him that, nor was I willing to debate the issue. I was on a time limit, and since I would be bearing the brunt of the risk with my plan, I had no compunction about forcing the others to go along with it.

Bornholm eyed me for a moment, before nodding curtly. “Alright, we’ll follow your lead.” He paused. “But Sigmar is mine.”

“No,” I said firmly. “Like it or not, Bornholm, I’m better suited to face Saben and Sigmar. Leave them to me.”

The dwarf glared at me through redden eyes for a moment, before finally relenting. “Have it your way then, lad.” He heaved me to my feet. “And this is no time to be sitting on your arse. Let’s be about it.”

~~~

It took longer than I liked to get everyone organized and briefed, but an hour later, I was crouched in the north tunnel entrance of the safe zone.

A squad of scouts was hidden behind me, their arms and packs laden with equipment. When things kicked off, their task would be to throw the gear into the safe zone to equip the thirty candidates there.

Bornholm and the sixty-odd remaining troops lay in wait about fifty yards back in the tunnel. They would only charge into the cavern once the scouts gave them the go ahead.

I peeked into the cavern, studying it intently. Nothing seemed to have changed in the nearly three hours since I had left, and both gang squads were exactly where I had last seen them. Obviously, none of the guards had been missed yet. Good. I looked over my shoulder at Cyrus, the scout who was serving as my second-in-command for this mission. “Ready?” I whispered.

He nodded.

I clasped his hand briefly. “Remember the plan. I’m heading in.” I glance down at myself again, making sure for the umpteenth time that I hadn’t forgotten anything.

I was in newbie gear once more.

I had already stashed my backpack and gear somewhere safe, keeping only my coin pouch on my person. Assuming everything went according to plan, I would retrieve my other stuff once things got going, but for now I couldn’t afford to rouse the gang’s suspicions by being spotted in armor.

Right, no use delaying then. I cloaked myself in shadows and slipped into the cavern.

Let’s go play bait.

~~~

You have entered a safe zone.

I reached the crater’s edge without incident, and climbed down unseen. Letting my stealth fade, I slipped through the camp, searching for Morin and Tantor.

“Michael!” Tantor called, spotting me first.

I hurried to his side. Morin was with him. “You got the gear I dropped earlier?” I began without preamble.

The pair nodded.

“You’ve found Bornholm,” the painted woman stated, somehow divining my news.

“I have,” I said, and proceeded to fill them in on the plan as rapidly as I could.

“It dangerous,” Morin said, her face serious. “For you. Are you sure you want to take such a risk?”

“I am,” I replied, not explaining why I deemed it necessary or my deadline. “Besides if the worst happens, the rest of you can still finish this.”

“Very well,” she said, not questioning me further.

“Good,” I said. “Now there’s one more thing I need to do before we get started. Ready the others. I have to go repay a debt.”

~~~

“You’re back!”

I smiled. “You sound surprised Hamish. Don’t tell me you thought me a bad investment?”

Consternation flitted momentarily across the merchant’s face, then he laughed ruefully. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you again,” he conceded. He shook his head sadly. “Sometimes I think I’m too soft-hearted for a merchant.”

“Perish the thought,” I replied with a grin. I glanced around carefully to make sure no one was watching then stepped up close to the merchant and placed some coins in his hands.

“What’s this?” Hamish asked, looking down in surprise.

I chuckled. “The money I owe you. And this—” I placed more coins in his hands—“is for the items I wish to purchase.”

~~~

You have bought 1 master tier skillbook, and 4 basic ability tomes. You have lost: 40 golds. Total money carried: 46 golds, 4 silvers, and 9 coppers.

“Oh my,” Hamish said when we concluded our transaction. “You’ve done better for yourself than I expected.”

The merchant reached into his wagon and pulled out the books I had bought. Thankfully, he had had the foresight to obtain most of them from his partner in the Nexus after our first discussion, and I didn’t have to wait for their arrival.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the items. “Now, I have another request to make.”

The dark elf’s eyebrows rose. “Another favor? I’m almost afraid to ask.”

I grinned. “It’s nothing onerous,” I assured him and placed my coin pouch into his open palms. “Can you hold this for me?”

Hamish’s eyes darted downwards. “What is it?”

“Money,” I said, then hesitated before adding, “And a master Class stone.”

The merchant’s eyes widened, but he didn’t refuse the pouch. “Why give me this?”

“I’m heading back into danger,” I said. “And if I die again, I don’t want to be trapped here without resources.” I gestured to the coin pouch in his hands. “Call that insurance.”

“And the other item?” he asked.

“It’s part of it, too,” I said, not explaining further.

I was hedging my bets. I was playing for high stakes and knew I needed an alternative plan in case things went horribly wrong. The gold coins and the Class stone were part of that plan. In my own mind, I had four hours—and not twelve—in order to kill Saben and Sigmar.

The other eight hours were my reserve. In the event of my death, it would allow me to resurrect, assume the siphon Class, and flee the dungeon before my time ran out. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that though.

If I succeeded in the first part of my plan, then I would have enough time to enact the second part of my strategy. All this meant, I had little more than an hour left to kill Sigmar and Saben, and I was painfully aware I was cutting things close.

I met Hamish’s gaze again. “Will you do this for me?”

The merchant’s fist closed around the pouch. “I will,” he affirmed.

You have lost: 46 golds, 4 silvers, and 9 coppers. You have lost a master Class stone.

“Thank you!” I said, pumping his hand vigorously. Bidding him goodbye, I swung around and began hurrying away.

From behind me, I heard Hamish mutter to himself, “I don’t know why you would entrust me with this though.”

“Because you’re soft-hearted,” I murmured. “And a friend.”