“And which one of you bastards killed MY terraformer?” She leaped off the pile of rubble and landed heavily on the ground, bending her knees slightly for balance. Her eyes oozed pure malice, face muscles tense - the kind of specimen I'd only seen in documentaries about muscle-obsessed bodybuilders. With every step she made, I could feel the pressure exerted by her increase. And it seemed that I was not the only one: the dog bared his teeth and roared threateningly. The girl froze, and her lips curved into a smile. “What a pretty little pupper, I wonder..., what kind of skill can I get from it!”
She made a barely perceptible movement with her hand, and he collapsed to the ground, whining and crying. He couldn't look at the approaching human monster any longer. My comrades behind me also quivered and fell to their knees; Andrei even put his arms around his head and howled in fear. I was the only one in our group who remained standing.
«I guess her spell, or whatever she did, didn't work on me,» I thought, gripping the handle of the ax tighter and looking at the girl in her thick dark robe, her gigantic muscles visible all over her body through the clothes. She moved like a panther ready to attack. The system didn't even show me her level.
Human
Survivors faction
“Not a bad mental resist! I guess you're the asshole who stole my prey, aren't you?” She stopped a few paces away from me. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to clear out the reds in the surroundings?”
“Um, excu...se me, madam? I didn't even know you could reserve a mob!” My attempt to make a way for myself with a joke failed, spectacularly.
“Pfft,” she snorted like a horse, and, raising her two-handed flamberge upward with her shoulder, pointed it at me. “Who the hell are you?”
“Oh, my name's Alexander, and you?” I tried to flash the friendliest smile I could muster.
“Listen here, Sasha! I'm not in the mood for jokes. You followed us and decided to steal our prey and loot? You believe just because the camp's nearby, I wouldn't dare kill a dirty little thief?!” Holding the sword with one hand, she struck twice crosswise in front of her.
I was ready to defend, putting both hands out in front of me, clutching a turtle buckler and a bone axe:
“Wait! You misunderstood me. I really didn't know the mob belonged to anyone.”
“Well, sure, a guy with a hidden level and a bare ass leading a group of...” She glanced behind me, pausing for a second, probably recognizing someone and wrinkling her nose. “...losties through the red faction territories, and then tells me he doesn't know anything about it. Wick, what do you think?”
Her last question obviously wasn't for me. The space next to her blurred and a skinny kid of about thirteen appeared, with freckles all over his face and his front teeth protruding. I didn't see any weapons on him, but that sure didn't mean he wasn't a threat.
Human
Level 5
Survivors faction
«Damn, that camouflage is a great spell,» I looked enviously at the boy who'd appeared out of nowhere.
“I wath with them befoth you thhowed up, and he thethtainly didn't have any idea,” the boy had a rather unique manner of speech.
The beefy lady stared at me broodingly, all the while I was getting more anxious and worried by the second; the guy standing next to her didn't interfere with her thinking processes, and looked indifferently at the members of my group.
“Fine, whatever! Give me the book, and I'll turn a blind eye to the mob's exp!” She clang with the blade of her flamberge against the metal rivets on her shoulder and held out the left hand, hinting to me.
“Ummm,” I grimaced in embarrassment and regret. “I've already used it!”
The words had just escaped my mouth when the hulk-like woman jerked, and grabbing her sword with both hands, lunged at me. I didn't put my buckler up against the wavy steel, but pressed the "tread" icon and jumped aside.
“Vavava, thtop!” The boy jumped and wrapped his arms around the lad' s massive shoulders, but for the weight of her comrade was evidently the same as a sack of hay to her. She kept charging at me, making tremendous flamboyant swings with her flamberge. “Vavava, thtop! You'th getting...”
The kid shouted in her ear, while I barely managed to dodge the swift, lethal blows. Eventually, the angry bodybuilder listened to the boy's voice and finally stopped. She put the blade in her other hand and kicked the pesky bug off of her, then, still red from fury, turned to me:
“YOU!” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You're lucky that my group requires the God's blessing! Otherwise, I would have split your body in two from head to toe.”
I lay breathing heavily on the yellow sand, sweat trickling down my face, with no strength left to answer.
“Vadim!” She turned off the spell that was still working, and turned to the bearded man, pointing at me. “Who's that bastard?!”
He spoke in a husky, trembling voice:
“This young man, according to his words, pulled all of us out of the children's park.”
«Why did u even add "according to his words"...»
“You were in the park???” Surprise and disbelief mingled in her voice.
The bearded man nodded quickly.
“Oh, you're one lucky bastards! The whole town must have seen the light show last night.” After that, Vadim was bombarded with questions one after another. “Was the Mother tree born? Is that the end of reptiles and insects? Who was in the battle? What were their levels? Damn it, now I'll have to focus more on the mental defense...”
“You won't have... to...” I grumbled, getting to my feet.
“What did you say?” Varvara took up the flamberge with both hands again.
“The Mother tree's heart was annihilated in front of my eyes.”
My words made an immediate impact not only on her, but also on the boy next to her. After a moment's stunned shock, her face returned to its former cocky, self-important expression.
“Oh, so that's how you got such strong mental resistance. Who finished it off?” She tried to make her tone indifferent, but I could clearly hear a whiff of greed and a desire to satisfy her interest.
Of course, I wasn't going to hide this information, because I had to get this pissed-off beastie interested in something.
“The Black faction! The necromancers and their undead army.”
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“Ah, those assholes…” Varvara, making an awkward grunting sound, spat on the ground. “I'm not surprised, then. So, how did you all survive then?”
The question was expected. It sounded neutral enough, but there was a lurking threat. Breathing heavily, I began to recite my adventures in the park once again. Without interrupting, she listened to my rather abbreviated story, but at the point of the contract with the necromancers, Varvara abruptly interrupted me.
“You're spouting bullshit! Why would they let you and the others go?”
“Because they were weakened and didn't see my level. I took out the lion's share of their underlings under the Mother tree's control, along with an oversized bat. They had no choice but free me out of her control. And then, we made a temporary alliance: I do not attack them and let them deal with the heart, and they let me, the dog and the rest of the survivors go.”
The muscular girl hummed skeptically.
“You expect me to believe all that? One bolt of darkness would have been enough for a wimp like you!”
“Of course, I had to twist some points and threaten. Plus, I had my buddy next to me. Also, not far away there was a battle going on between fire toads, cockroaches, an ent, and God knows what else. I guess they didn't want to take any more chances.”
“What were their levels?”
“All had level three,” I answered quickly.
“What about you?”
“Four, but I told them I'm level seven.”
While we were talking, the dog, ducking his muzzle to the floor and circling the dangerous stranger in a wide arc, got to me. Varvara paid no attention to him and continued to ask short, clarifying questions. Trying to catch me on some details. But I deftly avoided the tricky questions, mixing truth and fiction. I do believe I did a darn good job. After a brief interrogation, she looked at Wick. He nodded slowly but affirmatively.
“Thoundth about thight.”
***
Artem Katzman
Between the abandoned, dilapidated houses, leaning on a tall staff and limping, a stunted man was strolling, muttering something barely audible to himself. His head was almost entirely hidden beneath the hood, and the hem of his long, dark-red cloak dragged on the ground, making clouds of orange dust fly upward.
The lone figure was accompanied by faithful six-legged hideous creatures. Their small, watery, angry black eyes swiveled relentlessly, scanning every scrap of ivy-covered land.
The afternoon's silence was broken only by the gruff warlock’s voice, besides the blowing wind and the gnashing of the demonids mandibles:
“Wick, raptors, twenty paces at three o'clock. Nastya, the laying of the coluber eggs in the pharmacy across the street. Abdul, Boris, watch out, the cloudgliders on you. Varvara, Gleb, I'm kiting hornlisk to you with my demonid, attack in... 3, 2, 1, go!”
The flood of information transmitted through the group telepathic channel paused for a moment - the white stone at the top of the staff glowed green, and three flaming spheres flew toward the approaching sand mound, one after the other.
A series of explosions rang out, and red dust flew up to the second floor. The warlock coughed and covered his face with the sleeve of his robes. Suddenly one of his underlings leapt forward and, bumping into something, shattered into numerous pieces of tiny tissue.
Artem retreated behind the body of his second protector and began tapping the tattoos on his wrist. In a matter of seconds, his mana reserves had shrunk by eighty percent. The warlock's physique transformed: the man grew taller and broader in the shoulders, his cloak rattled, barely able to contain his changed form. A translucent barrier gleamed in the sun around the mage.
A spiky lizard emerged from the loose sand. The warlock smiled, revealing pointy fangs. The hornlisk had been badly injured: the mage's spell had pulverized the salamander's other head, bleeding heavily, and the creature screamed. Its horn glowed, and a fireball the size of a tennis ball flew swiftly toward the wizard. The ball bounced off the surface of the barrier and exploded, hitting the rundown, brick house wall behind the warlock's back.
“Now it's my turn!” The formerly gruff voice now resembled the growl of a bear. Artem pressed the tattoo and activated the skill, but before he could use it, he received a notification.
You eliminated level 5 Hornlisk(**), gained 107 experience.
“Damn, I must have overdone it.” After dispelling the almost casted spell, Artem walked over to the corpse of the salamander and, without looking, grabbed a skill book, a couple of gems for crafting, and a capsule with a unit of experience.
“Artem, are you all right?” The worried voice of Varvara, the leader of the group, echoed through the telepathic channel.
“Yes, yes!” answered Artyom angrily. “It was just a hornlisk. I'm almost out of mana.”
The group channel was silent for a while, and then the irritated voice of the captain emerged:
“Okay, I'll go get that terraformer. Pack up, we return to the camp.”
“Well, thank you, Katzman, as usual!” A grumpy voice with a strong accent boomed.
“Abdul, please not again,” a soft, feminine voice intervened in the conversation.
“Don't start what! Every fuckin' time it's the same! How many times have I told you: let's assign somebody with him! I'm sick of it: we hunt for three hours and then stay home for two days, waiting for that jerk to replenish his mana!” The southerner was getting even angrier.
“His magic also friendly fires, after a single spell we'll have to return home, and then spend even more money on healers.” Nastya spoke up again in defense of the warlock.
“Yeah, something's got to be done, right? Even Alik's group will outlevel us soon enough!” Abdul was getting louder with every word.
“That's enough!” Harshly commanded Varvara. “Now we get that terraformer, buy some land, and you'll get accelerated mana regeneration, and maybe some other buffs. Before you know it, we'll be at the top.”
At that moment all the members of the group felt a powerful ultrasonic wave, causing a sickening pain in their ears.
“Captain, you should have at least warned us!” Gleb was the first to speak out. “What dropped beside the book?”
“THE HELL! WHO DID THIS?” Varvara's furious scream shook everyone even harder than the ultrasonic wave.
“What happened, lee?”
“ARTEM, FIND THEM! SOMEONE STOLE OUR LOOT!”
The telepathic channel exploded with a thousand curses. Meeting a terraformer is rare enough as it is, and this close to the base is beyond lucky. Except someone stole it.
“Fuck, why didn't that dumbhead leave the minion in there?” Abdul immediately found someone to blame, and even though everyone knew that the minion left behind could have easily aggroed the terraformer ahead of time, there was no one who decided to stand up for the warlock.
The search for the thief lasted hardly more than a minute, but Wick found him. He stammered and chewed on his words, but somehow still explained where he was, and Varvara came running to him at once.
She had barely met the group of exhausted, wounded people and learned that the book had been lost when Abdul screamed:
“Kill! Kill them!”
“Ha-a-alt, our blessing! Wick, stop her!” Boris intervened.
By some miracle, the boy was able to stop the enraged Valkyrie, and now the group listened and discussed the story of this Alexander. Opinions of people were sharply divided. The warlock had to intervene:
“Varvara, Wick, pretend to believe him! I'm almost a hundred percent sure that he was hired by the black faction. We need to get him to the camp, and then our guys from security will take over from there.”
“Uh, what?! We have to escort this bastard back to the camp? Are you out of your fucking mind, Katzman?”
“As your group's overseer, I carry the will of the camp's leader. It's in the best interest of the settlement to get this man back to the camp alive. This matter is not up for discussion! Varvara?”
The commander's heavy breath out was heard.
***
Alexander Zakharov
“All right, you will come with us to the camp.” Varvara waved her hand.
“Ah, I wouldn't recommend trusting him!” A voice came from among my companions.
Vadim jerked to stop her, but didn't do so in time.
“Huh? What's your name?” Mrs. Swordswoman looked at her with interest.
“Alina! I have a class...”
“Yes, yes, I think I remember you.” Varvara wrinkled her forehead. “You were in Alik's group?”
Alina nodded affirmatively.
“So, why shouldn't we trust him?”
“He is clearly hiding something, and no one seen him in the camp!” Alina began to twiddle her thumbs. “He's with a neutral dog and was ready to leave us for him. Besides, I don't believe he saved us!”
“And... that’s it?” Varvara stared at her, stunned. “I expected more than that. Like eating altered, or humans, alive.”
“But...”
“That's it!” She slapped her hand on her broad, muscular thigh. “Come on, get up, and let's go to the camp. By the way, the interrogator's room is still waiting for you.”
“Phew,” I breathed out, barely audible.
«Finally, I can at least relax a little. This time my story looked much more convincing; all I have to do now is repeat it to some interrogators and...»
“And don't you relax too much! You still owe us for a terraformer,” cold Varvara's tone hit me like a bucket of spring water. “I think a year of slavery and we're even! Can you at least use the new skill?”
I shook my head:
“Not until the next level, it takes too much mana.”
Varvara looked up into the sky and muttered something to herself. Wick, standing beside her, cautiously glanced at her, ready to stop his mighty companion at any moment.
“Whatever!” The swordswoman glanced at our battered and exhausted group, settling on Zhenya. “Hey, you! Who's that in your arms?”
She moved a little too quickly toward the air mage and bent down to inspect his precious burden. There was no emotion on her face at first, but then her bushy eyebrows shot upward, and her sword slipped from her mighty hand:
“Rita! GIVE HER TO ME!” Varvara yanked the girl away, nearly breaking both of Zhenya's arms. Wet lines quickly ran down the swordswoman's cheeks, and large droplets fell on the red dust covered and wooden barked face of the unconscious girl.