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Info #44: Although the Elgoreombdon forest’s boundaries are shown on the world map. Many of its parts are still unexplored.

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Info #45: Terrain scanning is divided into two types, full and local. With a full scan, there should be no powerful monsters blocking the signal in the area; in a local scan, you will need to scan small spaces located close to each other, and the AI will supplement the gaps between them independently using its own scripts (at the moment the function is in beta phase).

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Info #46: The terrain of the Thalack planet may change because of severe weather anomalies. Here, you can re-scan the area and get a reward for it again.

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The nightmares would not leave Blake alone. That night, he dreamed he was in a tavern. There, in the semi-darkness, he met a dozen small children sitting in the shade against the far wall. All dirty, in torn clothes, pale skin, and colorless gray eyes. They looked at him, but said nothing, huddled, clung to each other, and shivered from the cold. Visitors, who could be counted on the fingers of one hand, did not notice them, as if they were not children, but ghosts. When Blake sat down at a table, a staff offered him a menu, but there were no items with various food, drinks, or alcohol. In the list in the left column, he read the names, and to the right of them he saw the price and description of what kind of work was the person suited for. Blake felt a presence behind him. It turned out to be a dragon with huge red wings, a human body, and a face twisted with irreconcilable anger. He asked in a heavy voice, pronouncing each word with a confident and slow tone:

“Who will our guest choose for himself?”

“No one,” Blake replied, and before he knew what had happened, he lost an eye and fainted. The next moment, he was in the body of one of these little lost souls in the corner. He was looking at himself from the outside, but he did not see Blake. He saw Ronnie.

***

Ronnie got back into the game before the others. Above his head, the star-studded sky revealed the red lights of nebulas, some shapeless and chaotic, spread a variety of colors across the infinite expanse of space; others reminded him of the human eye: in the center a blue circle like a pupil, and around it yellow waves taking the form of a protein. In the northwest of this universal canvas, a semicircle of an unearthly satellite pierced thin layered clouds with its rays. The ghostly light seemed to lift the veil of secrets of the forest darkness and calm the mind.

Ronnie sat down in a Bedouin pose and looked around. A flock of Dyeiis sat on the branches of the Linrava and stared at him with light blue eyes. Miniature moths fluttered and circled at the foot of the trees. To the north of the clearing, a black figure of a creature with an oval head, burning long arms, flashed by. Instead of legs, it had a void. Ronnie also saw ghosts. Their graphite translucent bodies glowed faintly, circling in the dark like leaves in a strong wind, and a few seconds later, disappeared into the deep thicket. In addition, somewhere far away behind the trees, there was a monster with a staff, red eyes and a creepy elongated skull without skin. It watched him for a couple of minutes and disappeared. It was like an incessant hallucinogenic dream.

The night, cold and endless, swept into the distance across the starry sky, like a long-playing decorated record in a gramophone. In half an hour, it took on a dozen contradictory guises. At first it was creepy and frightening, then quiet and calm. One picture replaced another.

Ronnie gathered some twigs, plucked the grass, and built a fire without looking around. He wrapped himself in a blanket, hugged his Barrett and just sat on the edge of the barely noticeable shadow, looking at his feet. Every creature, bug or monster passing by, stared at him with no hesitation, tried to catch his scent. Even those monsters that looked the most dangerous did not dare to make contact or approach a distance of less than twenty yards. They came and went back into the darkness. When the noise of the forest inhabitants subsided, the bowed chirping of Labaolo grasshoppers to the baritone of the wind came to the fore of the natural ensemble. Then the tambourine rustle of leaves connected to the long melody under the drumming of Tambaro woodpeckers.

An hour later, Barahu came up to Ronnie and growled and its four red eyes darted around. Then it bowed its head and sat down next to him.

“Wanna hunt? Hm?” Ronnie asked. “Yeah. Me too. But it’s too dangerous here.”

At the appointed time, everyone returned to the game as one. Faolandan bent down and slapped his knees three times with both hands, and called Tina. The wolfhound limped lazily towards him, licking its sleepy face with a long, rough tongue. Maenad approached the border of the clearing and watched as the scarlet rays of the morning dawn rose from behind the invisible horizon, the darkness in their light receded and revealed the green and red foliage of trees on the ground, and a little further, half a mile away, the pre-dawn fog was dissipating.

Latludious wrote to Ronnie in PM and asked if he had seen anything to worry about and received a negative response.

“Well,” said the magician, “time is running out. Let’s move out. In about five hours, we’ll reach the checkpoint, rest, and the next morning, we’ll go to the dungeon.”

Sitting Bull felt much better and could walk without his comrades’ help. He adjusted his bow and quiver, checked that everything was in order with the machine gun, and led the column, checking for any traces on the way. Ronnie, as in previous times, went last. He twitched and turned back at every sound of rustling or cracking, still not recovered from the events of the night. The wild places of Elgoreombdon abounded with red, blue, yellow flowers, ringing streams. Birds sang here and there. The morale of the group had risen. Maenad told stories, Faolandan baited tales.

Some time later, the conversation again went in the wrong direction: the players continued to guess what was Maenad’s job in real life and raised the stakes. She didn’t like it, though the serene atmosphere and silly conversations made her smile. Yet the further they went, the less the warmth of the cloudless morning warmed their bodies. The stories ended and there was silence. Engwanorno—fluffy trees of the Raegdantawar thicket. Their bark strewn with yellow, painful spots - surrounded the travelers, and a swamp replaced the hard ground under their feet. Coniferous branches with a dense studded carpet did not leave a gap in the forest canopy.

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“According to the map, these places should be much nicer,” said Latludious, and his heart stopped, so as not to interfere with his ears to catch every rustle.

“I read a story on the forum,” Maenad began in a half-whisper, “about how a group of pioneers came to these places. Their leader, Lamo, wrote that he had seen nothing more beautiful than this place. He wanted to establish a small village in these parts. But then something happened here. The trees seemed to get sick, and the light stopped reaching the ground. And whoever came here went crazy, died and turned into ghosts.”

“Okay, I’ll be honest,” said Faolandan, “you’re a master at telling horror stories.”

“Don’t be afraid. Tina will definitely save you from evil spirits.”

Barahu barked. The thicket ahead turned the color of the dark ocean's depths, and they, like a flock of fish, swam wherever their eyes looked, frightened and glancing around. Ronnie could not find his place. An hour later, it became completely dark. They could not see a thing. Sitting Bull shone a lantern at Latludious, who cast a spell. In the hands of the magician, a white beam of light shone like a white sphere, somewhat resembling a polar star. It rose above their heads and illuminated a space within a radius of three yards, but no more; the darkness hiding in these places had an inexplicable witchcraft power to it.

After a while, the group came across a stone statue, submerged by a third in the swampy ground. The lost trophy of a sunken ship. The angelic wings of a girl were the first to catch their eyes. In her hands she held a lantern, in which even now, if desired, they could light a fire. Her eyes were closed. A long white robe, whose folds seemed so real, wrapped around her velvety, fragile body. Maenad took a screenshot for the forum, noted the geolocation and said:

“Probably, a group of discoverers had already settled these places. What a beauty it could be!”

Latludious asked everyone to stop for a while and opened the map and after a minute said:

“I think we’ve covered enough distance. I’m going to scan the area again now.”

“What about the monsters?”

“I have a self-deploying S-rank scanner. Only ‘Boss’ level creatures can interfere with its signal."

Maenad clicked her tongue and said, rolling her eyes:

“There won’t be pay to win in the game, they said. Yes, yes, of course…”

Latludious pulled a cylindrical metal object out of his pocket, stuck it into the ground, pressed the ON button, and waited. From the very first second of operation, the scanner started ticking like a clock, and a small protective field appeared around it. Maenad appreciated the innovation and muttered that with such a thing, you cannot even spend an hour sitting next to it.

“But we will,” the magician replied.

Upon completion of the scan, all members of the group saw an updated version of the map. As expected, there were no bright areas at all. Yet Faolandan was the first to notice black spots, one of which they passed a mile earlier.

“What do you think, boss?” Maenad asked.

Latludious shuddered as if a chill ran through his entire body from head to toe.

“When did I become the ‘Boss’?"

“You always were.”

“Don’t call me that anymore.” he paused for a couple of seconds and continued, “we’ll bypass the spots. Now is not the time for trouble.”

The mage pulled the S-rank scanner out of the ground and put it back in his pocket. Maenad’s teeth gritted from what she saw.

“Is it also reusable?”

“Yes. Five uses.”

They set off on the road. Time flew by, no one had time to blink an eye. The second hour was ending, and the forest maze was squeezing the travelers’ necks with stuffiness and uncertainty. Ronnie looked around and there, in the obsidian void among the trees in the faint white light of the sphere, he saw a creature flying west, with arms twice as long as its body, instead of legs—a torn skirt, horns on its head, and fingers on the palms, like a pitchfork for irrigation of the ground. He threw the Barrett off his back with a light, practiced movement. The muzzle of the rifle aimed at the place of the alleged danger, and the thumb without delay raised the flag fuse to an upright position. No one noticed or heard it. Ronnie was left alone, surrounded by blackness, and waited a couple of minutes in silence. Nothing. He lowered his weapon and strolled forward to the north, to catch up with the group, which, like sinful pilgrims, follow the last light in this world, afraid to face the darkness.

Sitting Bull raised his hand. Everyone stopped.

“What’s there?” Latludious asked and saw red glowing symbols on the trees.

The Indian did not answer and went alone.

The Indian did not answer and went alone. The closer he got, the better he could see the sign: a red crescent pierced by a sword, encircling a magic circle, under which there were letters in an unknown language.

When Ronnie caught up with the others, he saw Sitting Bull standing point-blank at a pulsating and glowing red sign, which a second later released a red-purple mist. The Indian turned to face his comrades and dropped the machine gun from his hands. His right eye turned purple, and the left one scared.

“Don’t tell me he just got the same curse as that forest guardian,” Maenad said in a trembling voice.

Ronnie ran up to the magic symbol. The same image that he met yesterday. However, it had fewer letters, or it seemed so to him. Latludious said:

“You’re lucky it doesn’t work twice, Ronnie.”

“What the fuck is this?” Faolandan asked, still dumbfounded.

“Some unknown type of curse traps,” the mage replied.

“It pleased you, idiot, to come up to look at point blank!” Maenad shouted at the Sitting Bull.

“A good soldier is a poor scout,” he answered with a sad look.

“How are you feeling, my friend?” Faolandan asked.

Sitting Bull turned his head from left to right and shrugged his shoulders.

“Maenad’s scary tale is becoming a reality.”

“His case does not differ from what we’ve seen before,” Ronnie said.

“He’s right,” Latludious confirmed, and sat down in the lotus position and motioned for everyone to be silent.

The magician moved his lips, but said nothing, clutched his head, and the veins on his forehead swelled. After a couple of minutes, he got up and said:

“Let’s talk out loud. Ronnie, you’ve seen this magic before, right?”

He nodded.

“Why do you think it controls consciousness?”

“In the desert, I fought with the wild boss, TagFindar. It and its henchmen acted as if one person controlled them. All actions were coordinated, clear, synchronous. When TagFindar was exhausted and lay on the ground on its last breath, its minions seemed to have lost their minds. They started attacking each other and killing each other until only one remained. The conclusion suggests itself.”

Latludious nodded, hung on every word, held his chin. The others were silent. No one said a word. There was an unspoken rule in Top Secret—while “Bishop” was thinking, no one distracts him.

“Let’s put everything on the shelves. The Forest Guardian was out of its mind, otherwise he would have just attacked us. His body mutated, but not completely. From this, we can conclude that the curse doesn’t act immediately, but gradually. So, the more the body changes, the stronger the influence of the curse. If we believe Ronnie’s words, then after a complete change, it will be impossible to return the player or creature to its previous state. From this we conclude that somewhere out there, in the fucking wilds of Elgoreombdon, there is some kind of monster puppeteer setting these traps, right? Maenad mentioned the discovery story of this place. Lamo wrote his people were becoming insane, but he didn’t know what we know. Here, the picture becomes clearer than ever,” Latludious thought and continued with hope in his voice. “Maybe if we can find the creature that left this symbol before Sitting Bull transforms completely, we’ll save our friend.”

“Do you really believe that?” Ronnie asked.

“Yes. And I will believe until the end.”

“How much time do you think we have?” Faolandan asked.

“I know no more than you do. Better hurry.”