In my dream, I heard some murmurs afar that sounded like from another world. Wrapped with warmth, I stretched luxuriously. I opened my sleepy eyes and found myself in darkness, with only a glimmer of light through a crack. Had I returned home? Was everything before just a vivid dream?
A surge of surprise filled my heart. I sat up at once and realized that a thick blanket-like thing covered me. It seemed to be made of animal fur or some similar material. After a while, my eyes got used to this dim place. I looked around and found I was in a very confined space. The "walls" were soft and occasionally swayed gently, while the overhead space was limited, suggesting it was a tent.
Suddenly, a colossal figure squeezed through the crack. The figure nearly blocked the entire opening, and the light as well. Therefore, I couldn't make out the figure's appearance, and could only roughly estimate that he stood at least 2.5 meters tall.
"Boy, you're finally awake! Hahaha! Wonderful!" a loud and robust voice thundered in my ears, causing them to ring.
Well, his earsplitting voice relieved me a little bit. At least he could speak, and I could understand him.
"Hector, I’ve told you not to roar like that. Look, you must have frightened the young man," came a steady voice behind the giant, mocking him.
Hector, presumably was the name of the giant figure before me.
"Bullshit, El. How could I frighten anyone?" Hector roared again, making me cover my ears sorely. “Dear Lord, I wish I shall still hear.”
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In the darkness, four figures sat around a small fire pit, where crackling sounds occasionally emitted from the flames. Their shadows stretched farther into the distance, becoming more and more vague.
The one on my left was “Typhon” Hector, a bald giant with a shaved head and beard, and tattoos on his face. I couldn’t tell his age—perhaps 20, perhaps 40. On my right was the middle-aged man named El, mentioned by Hector earlier. He had short hair and a short beard. He wore leather armor, scratched but well-fitted, giving him an upright and steady look. Later, however, I gradually discovered that he was actually quite humorous.
The one sitting opposite me was another giant named Rogoff, who was only slightly shorter than Hector, with a similar bald and gleaming head. The only difference between these two “twin” giants was the tattoos on their faces.
My ears were still buzzing, but that was not a big deal. The priority was to figure out where I was. Judging from their dressing style, it was quite ascertained that I was now in a completely different world, and I realized that I was not as strong as I had imagined. In this unfamiliar world, with unfamiliar faces and surroundings, I still felt as isolated as when I first awoke.
"My name is Hector, the future barbarian hero!" Be aware of my sobriety, Hector finally couldn't help speaking, beating his chest proudly. Fortunately, he remembered what El said and lowered his voice to spare my ears.
"Paladin El. Nice to meet you," said the middle-aged man who had previously mocked Hector. His tone was solemn and prideful when introducing himself, showing he was proud of his career.
"I'm Rogoff, also a brave barbarian warrior," said Rogoff on the other side, in a deep voice.
"I'm Milo," I replied, trying to remain calm.
Barbarian? Paladin? I started to have some ominous feelings.
Hector, who was more straightforward, patted me on the shoulder, almost knocking me into the fire pit.
"Little fellow, you look like a new-coming Druid, aren't you? You've got balls to come alone to the deep wilderness." Hector said.
"Haha, I thought it’d be fine, but somehow I got lost unconsciously," I said.
Druid? The ominous feeling got stronger and clearer. I deliberately scratched my head to avoid answering his question directly, pretending to be embarrassed.
"Haha, you’ve indeed a bold youngster, just like what I was," Hector continued, patting my shoulder with his bear’s-paw-like hand again.
"Ha... ha..." I steadied myself again and managed a smile. My body swayed under his massive palm like a fragile boat tossing in roaring waves. I should have sat beside El.
"You're too weak, kid. That's ugly. You need to eat more meat," Hector said, took a large piece of jerky from a nearby pouch, and handed it to me. Then he took another piece and chewed it himself.
I received the jerky and found it weighed at least 2-3 pounds. Hector's appetite was truly extraordinary.
"Hector, that's not fair. You're a level 11 barbarian. Even a Druid at level 30 wouldn't be stronger than you in terms of strength. Look at the kid; he's probably just level 5, or less. What a shame to compare your strength to his!" On the other side of me, the kind middle-aged El couldn't stand it anymore and looked at Hector with disdain. "If you're so proud, why don't you compare your spiritual power with the kid?"
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As if a deflated balloon, Hector hung his head in defeat and ate his meat in large, silent bites.
"Milo, leave stupid Hector alone. Everyone has their strengths. Although Druids may be average in every aspect, they are one of the most powerful classes," Uncle El encouraged me with a warm voice.
"By the way, Uncle El, where were you guys heading for just now?" I put down the jerky and asked. No matter how hungry I was, I couldn't enjoy anything with a bunch of questions pending. Even though so many hints had appeared, I refused to admit that coming conclusion.
"You are lost indeed! We're on the way back to the Rogue Encampment!" Uncle El first looked at me with confusion, but then suddenly realized and said.
What? The Rogue Encampment?! A series of clues finally form a storm in my mind. I could not even hold the piece of jerky firmly, and let it slip down the ground.
Barbarians, Paladins, Druids, the Rogue Encampment... Oh my! I finally realized where I was now. This was the world of Diablo II.
"Milo, what's wrong with you?" Watching my astounded face, Uncle El patted me on the shoulder and asked.
"Oh, oh... I am OK. " I said, roused by Uncle El's gentle clap. To hide my surprise, I lowered my head to my chest, quickly picked up the jerky from the ground, and devoured it, ignoring the dirt on it.
"Cough, cough..." I was choked by the big bite of dried meat, coughing violently.
Suddenly, a waterskin was handed over to me. Without thinking too much, I grabbed it and took several big gulps of water, relieving my throat. I raised my head and saw Hector and El smiling at me. It was Rogoff, the unexpected silent barbarian who had saved my ass.
"Rogoff always looks cold and seems like one of those who play with skeletons, but his fiery heart no doubt belongs to the purest barbarian," El explained with a smile. Rogoff grinned awkwardly, showing a smile but even uglier than a cry, indicating that he was indeed a social phobia.
After a while, El and the other two barbarians began to assign duties for night watch, while I was pushed into the tent on the pretext of still being weak.
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Over the next few days of our journey, I gradually gained a deeper understanding of my companions.
Hector, an 11th-level Barbarian, had a generous and bold disposition, a typical zealous and reckless style of his class. Rogoff, also an 11th-level Barbarian and seemingly sibling of Hector, was taciturn and possessed a calm demeanor that was quite unlike other Barbarians. El, a 12th-level Paladin, was steady, wise, and humorous, serving as the leader of this small group. He occasionally teased Hector and engaged in playful banters with all of us, making this long and tedious journey more bearable.
According to El, they wanted to take their chance through their deep venture into the Blood Moor to find any equipment that could provide fire resistance. They had already accepted the mission to kill the Countess. Therefore, they needed fire-resistant equipment to cope with her blazing inferno.
Unfortunately, after slaying their way back from the Black Marsh to the Blood Moor, they hadn't been able to obtain a suitable item. They had prepared to return to the Rogue Encampment reluctantly for a break and replenishment since they had been out for over three months.
"Wait."
El, who was scouting in front, suddenly stopped and gestured to us. The three of us immediately slowed down and gathered around him.
"There's a Fallen encampment ahead. You guys wait here. I will go check it out."
Fallens were the most common monsters in this wilderness. Their fiery red skin and short stature resembled that of red, standing jackals, giving them a despicable and ugly appearance.
This wasn't the first time I had encountered them. We had already come across many Fallen encampments on the road in the past few days. Other than that, sometimes hard-skinned rats suddenly emerged from bushes, shooting needles at us from their back. Yesterday afternoon, we even spotted a few Zombies wandering. Although I was extremely repelled by these disgusting creatures, the other three were quite delighted. Compared to other monsters, Zombies not only offered high experience points but were also the easiest to deal with. They were quite slow and easy to dodge, even for barbarians. As long as they weren't surrounded by a dozen Zombies, they were just moving experience points.
El mysteriously shared with me his so-called exclusive secret that Zombies were the monsters with the highest drop rate in the Blood Moor. The only ring he currently wore was dropped by one of the several Zombies he encountered a month ago. Although other than the ring, those Zombies hadn't dropped even a single coin.
By the way, the reason why El went for scouting was there were no Assassins or Amazons in our group, who were the most agile and suitable for reconnaissance. At least, Paladins were more capable than Barbarians. As a Druid, I should have stepped up at this point because Druid's shape shifting and summoning skills had more advantages in reconnaissance than Paladins. However, after realizing that my true level was only 1 and I hadn't even learned any skill, El kindly took over the task, rather than sending me to death.
Well, I was still not sure whether I was a Druid. Over the past few days, I've become familiar with my new body and discovered that my strength and dexterity have increased dozens of times compared to before I was transported here. In my previous life on Earth, I could never make a nearly continuous, over-half-day-long trek. But even so, could I master the skills of this Diablo world? This was the issue that worried me most after accepting my reality. I hope I won’t end up like a fool.
Only after a while, El returned with exciting information: "It's a squad of Fallens, and there's also an elite Fallen Shaman among them."
In El’s description, a squad means more or less than ten. As for the Fallen Shaman, in Diablo II, it's a little old Fallen who wields a skull staff, casts fireballs and resurrects his Fallen minions. While “elite” probably refers to monsters with special abilities.
It seems that elite monsters are indeed hard to encounter, judging from their exciting expression. As a three-man team, this elite Fallen Shaman accompanied by a squad of Fallen minions was almost the upper limit that they could handle. Such a situation was so lucky that even Rogoff, who usually wears a poker face, couldn't help smiling.
Yet I felt somewhat embarrassed. Although my body gradually recovered in the past few days and I felt I could easily take on one Fallen minion with any weapon, even a normal club, I wouldn't be able to help them during combat as I had lost the beginner weapon before I woke up. Additionally, I learned from El that in this real world, there was no team experience at all—you get experience only when you participate in combat yourself.
Yet, I had to stick close to them. Who knows what strange and dangerous creatures might emerge from some dense bushes if I stayed alone? The experiences of the past few days had already told me that this bizarre world resembled the world of Diablo II but was also like any wilderness, inherently filled with danger.
After all, even with their average level of over 11, El and his companions didn’t dare to walk recklessly in Blood Moor, where only level 1-4 monsters roamed, let alone an unarmed rookie like me.