Chapter 33

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This is the first time I've been here since I came with the guards to "punish evil".

It wasn't that I was afraid (it would be easier to forget about the game for two or three weeks, letting the mercenaries interested in revenge discard their contracts in the meantime), simple there was nothing to do here. In the mines, I managed on my own, and raising my faith to four, only for the final boss I was not powerful enough. But to go alone into an unknown slave trading camp, where there might be ten or a hundred opponents... though no, there won't be a hundred, it's unlikely. But a dozen or two would be. I wish they were there. That's exactly how the quest to upgrade my status in the Temple should look like - I'll kill, release, report, everyone is pleased, I change my title to "Warrior of the Temple", I get access to the city archives - and then the story goes on.

The excitement of waiting to win messed with my head as vodka, and I was a little tipsy right now, but that shouldn't stop me from recruiting a group. I opened the local chat room, began to listen, and finally chose a few candidates among those who were looking for a group.

Priest, level twenty-seven, looking for a group for the evening. An Elementalist, thirty-second, and a Warrior of the Snows, thirtieth, are looking for a tank and a healer to pump. Inviting everyone into the group, I explained the reason:

"So, guys here's the deal -- I got a whisper that there's a hidden camp in the vicinity of the mines. There might be some tasty stuff there, at least a hidden mission. Let's go to the mines and check it out. If not found - we pass the mines to the end, then as you like. Quest-item rolls all. After the passage, I'll go look for the camp again. All agree?"

Everyone agreed.

I waited at the gate for the caravan drivers to pass, heading for the capital. This week I went either with a passing caravan or with a change of guards on patrol.

"Does anybody have any speed spells?"

Collective shaking of heads. Too bad it'll take ten minutes to get there.

In Creators, distances were great, and one could go in any direction. There were no impassable obstacles not foreseen by the landscape. Mountains could be bypassed, rivers could be swum or flown over, and beyond there was always more. The game zones were not artificially enclosed; on the contrary pleasant bonuses were waiting for explorers, like new dungeons, unclimbed trails, and fresh hunting grounds. Two years ago, Adar was a frontier town, and beyond was only Darkness and Evil: not always, though, with a capital letter, but there were. Now it's a week's journey with a caravan to the outpost.

Why would developers need such an expanse? Nine games out of ten, even the last generation with supernets, complex Plot-AI, and other machinery to support game worlds - most have made do with well-defined, cozy worlds with large but finite zones. In "Creators" it was as if they were going to create and maintain an entire world in real time. Why such a waste? Is it all for the profit of a huge but still finite number of players? Is there such potential for development that it is necessary to create a world "for growth"? From where?

With such thoughts, I did not notice how I ran the whole distance.

"We arrived. There," I waved my hand, "are mines. The entrances to them, to be exact. I've looked all over here." I'd been over the surroundings the first time, looking for nooks and crannies suitable for an ambush. "So we'll have to look here and here. War and Heal go that way Mage and I will go this way. Keep your eyes peeled for clues."

The entrance to the dungeon was on a hillside a hundred meters high, with only shrubs and very sparse thin trees all around, apparently, the forest fire had passed here last year or the year before, and nothing taller could grow here yet. I went up to the top of the hill and looked around for a long time, but I saw nothing. It was a very vague way of saying "in those places." Now I was looking at the hilly surroundings. Somewhere, I could see the surviving trees somewhere, the bushes had grown unbelievably thick, and in some places, the ground was covered with fields of tall, human-sized grass.

I can see why the temple quest was so simple: "Find a slave trader's camp" - you could search for a month here! And was there a quest? Maybe I was wrong?

"Meeting at the entrance to the mines, there is nothing."

The command was received with relief. No one wanted to appear impolite by refusing to help, but the fruitless search was exhausting.

By the way, all my companions showed the statuses, but no one demanded it of me. It is always like this - people are much less demanding of leaders. They are even willing to forgive their weakness, as long as they do such an unpleasant and difficult thing - to lead and take responsibility.

"Who was in the mines?"

Silence. I see.

Okay, I'll explain - the dungeon is for a thirtieth-level group. The monsters are simple but thicker than on the Mist Field. Order: I and the warrior - in front; I start, the mage fits in after we and the war will hit. Heal - just heal. If anything - quickly run to me, and I'll save you. Just in case - I'm a paladin, I can heal or protect, but I have no remote attacks. Understand?

They agreed. So they won't do anything stupid right away. They'll start to relax by the middle of the tour.

I pulled a crossbow from my back.

"Isn't that a remote weapon?"

"No. War, those two golems over there, my right one. Let's go."

Shot. A clay golem with granite boulders instead of hands went toward me. The warrior raised his hand with his sword and showed the class skill of "snow warriors" - the sword turned white, and a few seconds later a piece of sparkling ice flew off it and hit the second golem. At the hundredth level, when the skill is up to the fifth or sixth rank, an entire blizzard will fly from the sword, freezing enemies and slowing their movements, but for now, only one or two pieces of ice inflict hurtful but weak wounds.

I pulled my crossbow, slung it behind, and drew my sword. The golems aren't evil, just elements animated by magic, so "exorcism" wouldn't help.

"Dash! Strike of Faith"

"Ice Cloud! Sword of the North!"

The warrior and I each went at our own enemy. It wasn't good; it would have been better to concentrate all our attacks on one enemy, but now I had to see what my party mates were like.

I moved sideways, distracting my opponent. Clearly, a multiclass mage. The elemental's "Elemental Thread" comes much later. The fire enveloped the golem, not maiming, not even restraining the thread stretched and stretched. I tried not to hit it with my sword. Finally, at some point, the mage cried out, raised his hand, and the flames, coiled into a thin band burst free.

It's beautiful. The golem, wrapped in fire, waved its stone fists in the air and disintegrated. Popular school, strong spells, but very long and require the mage to remain still. I can see why he goes with a warrior: it would be much less effective alone.

I went behind the second golem, looking at the status of the group. The priest was saying a prayer, keeping the snowman alive, and the mage was weaving the Thread of Fire again. Okay, it is possible to go on. Nobody is distracted, nobody gets ahead, they treat in time, they hit in time. A normal group.

I hit the golem under the knees, and the mage immediately broke the spell, letting the fire disperse through the clay body.

"All right. That's the way we go from here. Heal, don't get distracted, you recover immediately after the battle, you heal only in battle, I pull up everyone afterward."

The priest nodded.

"Mage, don't you have your air wing pumped up? Here it is mostly earth creatures fire doesn't affect them well."

"I've only been learning fire. We go in tandem, and fire amplifies on the frozen."

"I see. Do you have AoE? Packs of rats are the main nastiness here. About fifteen of them in a pack, so you can't even see them."

It turned out they had a tactic for dealing with this kind of trouble, too. I was relieved that I didn't have to hit every little creature in the head with a sword, as I had done the first time.

After slaying about fifty monsters and passing the first mini-boss, everyone cheered up, convinced themselves that the group was sane, and got to talking. "Snowman" and "Elementalist" were friends, pumping characters with the promise of a guild. "Snow Warrior" took an archetype, and the mage, on the other hand, adjusted his multiclass to cover his buddy's flaws, and as a result, they complemented each other well. True, the tactics they chose made it harder to play solo, but they didn't think much about it, playing for fun from their jobs at night.

The priest was silent at first, but then he joined in the discussion and told the story:

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"At high levels, they always need healers. So I'm pumping a char for sale. From the fiftieth will go with groups for money, and on the hundredth will sell."

"How many rings have you saved up?"

"Why save it up? I'll sell it that way. What's the point of paying money for something you'll sell later?"

I froze, trying to make sense of such a trade.

"It'll take you six months, maybe more, to get to the hundredth. The ring doubles its price. Why not invest half a thousand to get a grand?"

"If I had the money, I wouldn't have pumped heal for sale."

It was said with the intonation of a wise sage explaining to a retard a commonplace truth.

Mm-hmm. That's a tough one. I tried to talk him into raising the sale price of his character, but all arguments were rejected with an emphatic, "Why? That's fine!"

"What's the point? To spend so much time for such ridiculous money?"

The healer was surprised: "Why is it ridiculous? It's normal money. I'm having fun, and I'll get money for it, too!"

In my attempts to explain what would have been a better course of action, he ignored me and brushed me off.

Judging by his voice, he was, like the warrior and the mage, about eighteen years old.

I was his age... oh, did I really say that? Come on - at his age, I had three bots on my computer, moonlighting as much as I could, trying to show that I am self-sufficient. And here: "What's the point?"

There were guys like that in our class, but not many. My father used to say he didn't understand our generation, which tried to become adults as soon as possible. I tried to remember for a while: maybe I was like that myself, or I'd just forgotten. Not really. Although, maybe he is studying, going for a red diploma, building a career? And here he is just for the fun, relaxing?

Without deciding anything about my companion, I just waved my hand and continued through the dungeon.

The warrior and the mage were not deceived. Their method of destroying small creatures was simple and effective - the "snowman" froze the whole pack to the ground with a blow, and the mage entangled the frozen place with a "thread of fire" and blew it up. A lot of fire and snow fountains - and the way is free. Too bad you couldn't write this type of spell in a scroll.

The second mini-boss was followed by a challenging group of four "dark creatures" that I used to try to bypass. A trap, releasing a hungry troll that prevented me from going further, the third mini-boss, and the accidental discovery of a hidden passage, where after exterminating two dozen spiders, we found a miner's bag with rare ore, immediately given to a warrior who was pumping blacksmithing; then the fourth mini-boss, which was difficult to approach because of puddles of burning oil, and I had to kill it only with ranged attacks, after which I took a break for three minutes to cure the trembling in my hands from the speedy charging of the crossbow.

In the midst of all this whirlwind, I drifted off again, listening to the chatter of my groupmates, occasionally commanding rest and distributing the spoils. At certain moments the priest got impatient again and began to confuse his views on the modern entertainment industry; he was challenged, I acted as an arbiter, and the argument moved into areas in which all involved were not too confident, and I had to cut it short under the pretext of preparing for the final boss. The boss turned out to be, as they say, "easy-peasy". If it weren't for the pairs of simple monsters that were summoned on a timer, this fattened troll wouldn't have been able to counter even my Companion. But now I wasn't alone, and two minutes after the first shot, the troll reeled, threw its wand at random, and collapsed, shaking the ground to reveal the niche in the wall where the quest's Troll Scepter, a simple gaunt stick with a piece of crystal taped to it, lay.

There was plenty of crystal in the mines; as soon as we left, another troll would prove that he was now the biggest and strongest here, and the dungeon would regain its boss. In the meantime, we made our way to the top.

"Roll. Everyone in."

The magician won. I said goodbye after congratulating him; it was nighttime outside, so I didn't suggest that we continue the search for the hidden camp, and my friends left for the city with the amulet. I decided that I would have time to look over the surrounding countryside from the top of the hill to clear my conscience.

"Paladin, are we going to camp?"

I took my eyes off the signs and turned to the healer.

"If we find it, of course. But first, we have to find it."

"Oh, here it is, isn't it?"

I looked down. Bushes, two trees, a clearing.

"Show me with your hand."

"There."

I even stepped behind him to look in the same direction. Nothing.

"Now, wait a minute. Where are they... there!" I read the scroll of True Vision.

Nothing. What the heck!

"I don't see anything. Let's you guide me, shall we?"

"Easy. Follow me."

The healer walked down the slope, jumping from rock to rock, skirting the sparse bushes, and I followed him. At one point, he disappeared, and I was afraid I'd lost him, but then I passed through the shimmering wall of air. It was simple - the camp was covered by an illusionary shroud, averting my gaze. Not a substitute for one thing, but a blind spot.

"I don't understand. Where did you get such powers? It's the concealment of the area. Only shamans can do that. How can a priest see it?" I began to suspect that I was not the only one who was so "cheating".

"Yeah, it was an accident. When I was building my character, I clicked on "straight gaze" and didn't notice. It was after a party. I just heard that everyone needs healers, so I assembled a multiclass. And found out when it's been a week, and I'm already up to level 10. Let it be. This stuff helps to see PKs and other evil things if they are hiding without magic."

"Why didn't you notice it before? When we first started searching?"

"I went to lunch. I put my character on "follow" for the war and left. You would have found it anyway. I would have heard from the kitchen."

I was speechless.

"Here we are."

"I see."

Now it was clear why my "attention" didn't help. A forty-level goblin shaman was in charge of the camp. Right, the shamanic distraction of gaze was not based on creating a false image but on "persuading" the object of observation to look different, so True Sight didn't work. The place was empty. A dozen and a half bound prisoners sat along a charred but sturdy log, mostly human and half-elf, which was the majority of the city's NPCs, plus two orcs and some kind of beastfolk, a dog-head.

"What shall we do?"

Good question. Attack? It's not clear how many slave traders there are or what their strength is. Release the prisoners? I could run along the log and cut the ropes. The shaman may be strong, but I'm not going to fight him, am I? Or not?

"Someone is coming from there."

There was a crack of twigs coming from across the road, and two bandits came out into the clearing. Behind them, two teenage boys dressed as city journeymen followed them unopposed. One of the bandits, a red-haired renegade Drow, waved a hand in the air with a glowing crystal in it, said something, and the prisoners walked to the log and stretched out their arms, letting the other guard tie them up.

"Map. Mines. Race."

The main inhabitants are wild trolls. Populating abandoned passages, they trade magic crystals with smugglers in exchange for food. Armed with...

Right, I read that but missed it as unnecessary: players hardly ever get crystals, and you can not trade with aggressive monsters.

"Paladin, what should I do? I want to sleep, let's hurry up."

"One moment."

It's too late to look for a new group; there is no room at the log. Apparently, the slave traders have come for the crystals, and the shaman enchanted one of the stones to obey. They decided to collect, so to speak, a cargo of opportunity. If I leave, I lose the quest, and I have to justify myself. Attack? I can not cope alone, and the healer - not a helper.

"Do you have anything that removes the negative effects? We need to undo the prisoners quickly."

The healer froze, his lips moving.

"There is a mass dispelling spell. But it's expensive and takes a long time to cast."

Of course, it appears in archetypes at the hundredth level and above. I couldn't stand it, so I asked: "What's your experience rating, anyway?"

"Nine. It's okay, it's not hard at all. You heal, and the others fight. The experience drips by itself."

"How long have you been playing?"

"Fourth month."

I see. He will get the 100th just in time for his retirement. Although how can he earn a retirement with such an attitude to work?

"Okay. I'll go beat them now, and you... can you cover all the prisoners with this spell?"

"One mo... oh, damn..."

"What?"

"I almost did it accidentally. I can."

"All right. I take the shaman and the helpers, and you take the prisoners. When dispelling works, you run to free them, but don't forget to heal me. You got it?"

"I'm not an idiot. Of course, I got it. Should I start?"

"As soon as I shoot."

Oh-ho. Okay, I didn't want to flash my opportunities, but I had to.

"A companion from the scroll - appear! A companion from the scroll - appears! A companion from the scroll - appear!"

Damn, how do I automate this, or my tongue will fall off?

"Cool! What's this?"

"I'll explain later. The order - read this scroll."

And again, three repetitions.

"Cool!"

"Stay out of the way! The order - attack this shaman."

The Companions turned and swam toward the main creep. If I'm lucky, the shaman will knock a third or even half of his life onto the Companions' shields.

"Let's start!"

The shot!

Drow jerked, and no headshot, an arrow hitting him in the shoulder. It was okay. He wouldn't use his bow. The second outlaw was quick to react and came at me. I threw my crossbow against the wall to get out of the way, and stepped toward him.

"Dash! Strike of faith!"

Idiot! I should use "Exorcism". It would have refreshed by the end of the battle!

I cut the legs off the leaping half-orc and made him recoil.

"Evil shall not be! Dash!"

After the fifth strike, struck at a feverish pace, I finally saw sparks scattering - one finished! The monitor flashed red.

"Heal! Heal! Dash!"

I couldn't move. The vines sprouted instantly around my legs. I jumped up in vain; the character didn't move. The shaman!

Let's magick dispell!"

The lianas scattered to dust.

"Damn, that's not it! Now. I had the mass one written down somewhere!"

Shaman!

"Donate to the temple!"

Yes, I was not right, I should not have set such a command to activate "Shining Truth"! But when I saw the dazzling animation, I couldn't help myself, because the movement of the monsters reminded me of trying to dodge a street beggar.

Drow put out his hand and randomly slashed at the air with his long dagger. The shaman just staggered away.

"Dash! Strike of Faith!"

The goblin, still blinded, waved something like a stone mallet, and I was swept aside.

"Heal! Dash!"

This time lucky, the shaman was thrown to the stump. I caught up, stabbed him in the legs - no luck, jumped away! Another - hit, almost no damage!

A greenish haze of healing enveloped me, restoring my health almost to full.

"Free the prisoners!"

"Pal, I'm under attack!"

Of course - the Drow saw the healer and immediately lunged at him.

"Arrow! Arrow, arrow, arrow!"

And now he runs to me! But slowly, very slowly. Once more, I chopped the goblin. I bent down, picked up my crossbow, drew the bowstring, and shot the outlaw.

The Drow fell down in a cloud of sparks.

Well, now the boss! I hope the other bandits don't come along!

The goblin was completing some terrible sorcery - purple shadows, sparks of fire, a transparent haze, and sinister laughter.

"You cannot escape, man! You cannot touch me, this shield cannot be defeated by your wretched weapons! I will feed your soul to the spirits and strengthen my weapons with your bones!"

"Blah, blah, blah. May he be pure!"

Blue-white sparks flew from my palm, penetrated the shaman's defenses, and dispelled all flying creepiness. That's a good thing, the Purification, is useful.

"Arrow!"

The shaman, who tried to escape, slowed sharply, and the blow to the back of an unprotected enemy was, as it should be, critical. The slave trader burst into flames and began to disintegrate.

"Let all the magic dispel!"

A whirlwind of bright red sparks blew across the clearing, extinguishing the fire and the magical lights, as well as the prisoners. The prisoners immediately began to murmur.

With a gloomy look at my groupmate, I turned to the NPCs:

"By the will of the Healer, I am sent to help you! Remain calm, now we will free everyone!"

Then, putting the sword in its scabbard and reloading the crossbow, went to untie the prisoners.

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