This time, the usually fearless sailors of the "Defector" pulled away from the shore immediately as soon as I jumped out of the boat. Their faces were tense, and their palms were trembling. I understand them. You can be very brave, fearlessly charging into battle against the strongest enemies and terrible monsters, but that's different compared to the chance of contracting an incurable disease. It's a totally different thing. You can fight an enemy or monsters, but you can't fight Nulgle's Plague in the literal sense of the word.
Watching the boat moving away from the shore, I waved to the guys whom I had gotten to know over these days and started walking away from the sea waves...
Gnur was indeed a very small island, less than a kilometer in length and seven hundred steps at its widest part. Essentially, it's a decent-sized rock jutting out of the sea. There are no trees on this island, not even shrubs to be found. Just moss and occasional patches of some weed. Also, there are no animals here, and birds do not nest on its rocks. I listened closely, and indeed, no insects could be heard either. A truly uninhabited island.
As soon as I thought about it, despite the fact that I knew the history of Gnur and had come here of my own choice, a chill of light irrational fear ran down my spine. To calm myself, I stopped and hit my chest with my fist a couple of times. The sound of my hand colliding with the metal plate of my armor brought back my confidence, and the fear receded.
Ender gave me a pretty decent chainmail. Honest steel, fine double weaving, it excellently withstood slashing and cutting blows. But, like any such armor, it had "inherent" flaws, poorly holding up against blunt and piercing hits. Larindel's payment for my expedition to clear the Defiled Dungeon was to improve this piece of gear. And I must admit, the experienced alchemist, with the help of the onboard blacksmith of the "Defector," did a lot in two days of travel.
First, the Ruby mage created an alchemical compound and submerged the chainmail in it for a day. As a result of the alchemical reactions, the regular steel of the mail rings acquired the properties of wootz. I know that wootz is a type of steel, but it is considered separately in Ain. Also, knowing what chemistry is, I couldn't imagine that you could additionally alloy regular steel after it has been melted, but alchemy managed to do this.
Second, the master blacksmith reinforced my armor with wootz plates, turning ordinary chainmail into what is called plated mail. The difference is that in the regular plated mail, the plates replace the rings, but here these plates were alchemically welded over the rings. That is, it's mixed-class armor, something in between chainmail and plate armor. Moreover, the plated mail combined all the advantages of these types of armor but was almost devoid of their disadvantages. The rings reliably protected against slashing and cutting blows, while the armor plates stopped piercing thrusts and partially absorbed blunt hits. The only "disadvantage" of such an upgrade could be called a significant, almost six-kilogram, increase in weight. But considering my abnormal stamina, this additional load could be neglected.
Third, the Sidhe half-blood soaked my double gambeson in some solution, as a result of which its tensile strength and elasticity increased almost threefold and matched these parameters with spider silk.
As much as I understood the prices for alchemical transformations, Maestro Larindel invested in these improvements ingredients amounting to more than three hundred full-weight gold coins! And this is not taking into account the fee for the work of such an experienced master. And this fee, in the case of such complex transformations, could reach half the price of the ingredients. Honestly, I didn't even expect such substantial "gifts." Apparently, the elf was indeed very tired of his monthly duty of scorching this island after each Overflow.
But the help from the captain of the "Defector" did not end there. Two special bags were added to my belt. Both looked like ordinary leather ones, but in reality, they were armored pouches of combat alchemists. Each compartment in them was protected from external influences and lined on the inside with dense velvet. Each bag had twelve of them. The one on the left side was filled with full recovery potions, worth a gold coin each. The one on the right contained light bombs, which, as I knew from my "future" experience, did a good job of "stunning" the undead.
Perhaps, for the first time in this Cycle, I was heading into the dungeon, truly prepared and fully equipped for it. If I could use a morion helmet and a gorget for my neck, it would be wonderful, but it is what it is. No big deal, Katashi will start his experiments in armor in two months, and I will be one of the first to buy from him! Although, I have to survive until that time. And given the lifestyle I lead in this Cycle, this is a big question.
Pushing aside heavy thoughts, I stepped onto the platform in front of the Door to the Plague Dungeon. But before entering, I sat down on the stones and delved into meditation, calming my nerves and preparing my body. I spent more than an hour like that. I balanced the rotations of the currents of Magic and the gusts of the winds of Spirit, warmed up my muscles, and calmed my nerves. And only when I felt fully prepared did I got to my feet and approached the Gate to the dungeon.
"One of the twelve?"
"Yes!"
And my next step ends already in the semi-darkness of the Defiled dungeon.
Unlike all other dungeons visited in this Cycle, this one doesn't look like a natural formation but rather like ancient abandoned ruins of a dwarven mountain settlement: even, albeit cracked in many places, wall slabs and granite ceiling with traces of former polishing. Underneath my feet, I can discern some ancient ornament laid out with stones of different colors.
As soon as I took a step, a semi-transparent mushroom burst under my feet, and a stream of smoke with some tiny spores shot upward to the level of my face. Had it not been for the thick mask on my face, covering both my nose and mouth, I would have sneezed immediately. But the dense, alchemically treated multi-layer fabric did not let the spores into my respiratory tract. Such protection is not enough to stop the Plague, but it will save me from mundane sneezing and a sore throat.
It's strange - a straight corridor leads from the door, which can be surveyed almost fifty steps in, but I don't see a single enemy. This is unusual. Nevertheless, the absence of enemies is better for me.
With that thought in mind, I stepped forward and nearly died! Only the constantly maintained "Perception" aura allowed me to survive. I heard a new note in the crunch of mushrooms under my feet and managed to jump back in time. Three granite blocks, each weighing at least a couple of tons, fell from the ceiling to the spot where I just stood! What the hell? No one told me there were traps in this dungeon! But before I could get angry, I cooled myself off. The last time this dungeon underwent a Reset was over two centuries ago. And of the three raids organized by the archipelago authorities, no one returned. Most likely, everyone simply forgot over so many years that in addition to goblins, one should also be wary of dwarven traps here.
Looking at the fallen stones, I whistled. I was lucky to be alone. This trap was designed to fall on the heads of a tight formation. And, unlike lonely me, those who were in such a group, even if they had time to hear the click announcing the launch of the trap, would simply not be able to jump back, as their companions would be pushing from behind. And if anyone jumped forward, the third block, placed a bit further, would have fallen on them, as if designed against such smart guys. It seems this dungeon is indeed a copy of some real dwarven settlement. This race, preferring underground life, just adores such mechanical traps.
Damn! I get it! I understand why even the best-equipped and prepared groups of Bronze heroes couldn't clear this dungeon!
Yes, the undead are hard to kill. Yes, the Plague weakens as it takes effect. Yes, the dungeon boss is a dead Wootz orc warrior. All true. But a full dozen heroes prepared specifically for this dungeon could have made it within the allotted thirty minutes! Alchemy, artifacts, buffs, powerful one-time spells, and all this in the hands of experienced fighters... One of the three attempts should have been successful. And now I understand why it wasn't. To make it in thirty minutes, the tunnellers had to literally run forward. Constantly attack, pushing to the limit. Most likely, that's what they did. They're not fools. They hurried as fast as they could… And died in the traps.
Maybe not all of them perished in the traps at once. But even the loss of two or three fighters at the very beginning would make it impossible to manage within the half an hour they had. And, as far as my "past self" knew about dwarves, traps are everywhere here, not just at the entrance.
Strengthening the "Perception" aura to its limit, even at the expense of "Acceleration," I walked through the empty corridor. I managed to bypass two more traps and evade the third one by sliding underneath. But this maneuver literally rolled me out of the passage and straight into a large hall, at least the size of a basketball court.
And here, there were goblins. A damn horde of undead gobls! A dozen regular ones, four warriors, and as many archers!
As luck would have it, one of the bow-wielding zombies had eyes that weren't rotted. The bowstrings snapped four times. Three arrows flew off into the unknown, but the fourth struck right in the center of my chest. It clanged loudly against the wootz plate, didn't penetrate it, and then ricocheted to the floor.
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I "remembered" that goblin archers are very dangerous enemies, and now I got confirmation of this fact. The zombie hit a moving target, sliding on the floor, right in the center from a distance of thirty meters, and he had only a second to aim, no more. No matter how much I believed in myself, I wouldn't be able to deal with this horde of zombies so easily. Especially when they were reinforced by one sharp-eyed archer.
The nearest regular undead goblin perished from a direct thrust of my spear that split its skull. "Seguna's Kiss" is useless against these enemies since there are no winds of the Spirit in their bodies. Likewise, "Discharge" is almost ineffective, as the walking dead have poor nervous center reactions. Therefore, I should rely only on raw weaponry! And, unlike many earthlings and native Ain dwellers, I know that a spear is very effective against zombies!
The undead enemy that lunged forward immediately served as proof of this thought, falling to the floor. Two sharp strikes: the first severed the cervical vertebra, and the second, a blunt blow to the forehead, detached his head from the body. Twirling my spear three more times, I laid to rest two regular ones and fended off one warrior. But I couldn't stay put any longer as the horde of zombies rolled in like an unrelenting tide.
And then there was that damned archer! I barely had time to twitch, and then, obeying the memory of the "future," out of "habit," seeing the arrow flying toward my face, I simply ducked my head, pressing my chin to my chest. And I almost died! I was lucky that I have a sturdy skull, and I only received a deep cut! Idiot! I don't have a morion on my head! And such a "defense," with a bare head, doesn't save you from arrows!
Blood from the arrow cut on my forehead immediately began flooding my eyes. All my plans and strategy went to dust because of this wound. I wanted to break into an open area and vanish in the countless passageways of the dungeon, but now I was forced to simply retreat into the corridor I came from. Retreat into a dead-end passage with no way out! And the horde of zombies was pressing in from the front!
Using a Full Recovery Potion for just a cut was terribly wasteful, but I had no other choice. As long as blood was flowing from my forehead and flooding my eyes, I couldn't do much fighting. After breaking distance from the zombies, I drank the potion. Now I had to hold on for a minute until it took effect.
And it was a tough minute.
Very tough.
Fighting almost blind against a horde is not the easiest task. It's a good thing the undead didn't think about their defense at all. They just pushed forward and tried their best to get me. This was undoubtedly dangerous but also predictable.
With a quick gesture, I wiped the remains of my own blood from my eyes and looked back. The horde of zombies, led by undead warriors, was advancing on me as an unstoppable wall, covering the entire width of the corridor. To deal with such a threat, you need to be either two ranks higher in the Spiral or confront this procession with a solid wall of shields. I didn't have such a wall, and my rank, on the contrary, was lower than that of this dungeon. Therefore, for my survival, I used what the location itself provided. Jumping back over a stone button that activated a ceiling trap, I waited for the line of undead goblins to surge forward, and then, covering my eyes with my forearm, I threw a "Light Grenade" at their feet.
Of course, it didn't stop the zombies. But the three two-ton blocks, falling right on their ranks because they were blinded and didn't notice the trap... That stopped them! And did so quite reliably, turning the zombies into thin meat schnitzels.
Jumping onto one of the blocks, I quickly finished off those who were still moving. As soon as I did that, I had to jump down and take cover behind the blocks. Four archers appeared at the other end of the corridor and began showering me with arrows. They acted quite reasonably for the undead. They didn't move forward, didn't press, but took convenient positions and just shot. And even though three of them with rotten eyes mostly missed, the fourth one seemed to be not a goblin but a disguised elf. Such an accurate scoundrel he turned out to be! When I poked out from behind the block for another time, I barely managed to hide and even lost part of my forelock, which was cut off by the tip of an arrow.
The "past me" sincerely hated goblin archers. Hated with all my soul! And now I understand why. It's better to face ogres barehanded than to jump under the fire of these incredibly accurate pests!
But still, my opponents were not living enemies but their dead, much duller "variant." Taking off my chainmail, I raised it on the spear shaft above the blocks I was sitting behind. A regular goblin, even the dumbest one, would never have fallen for such a trick. But the zombie archers took the bait. A hail of projectiles fell on the armor hanging on the spear shaft. This barrage lasted almost a minute. After that, the zombie archers ran out of arrows.
Quickly throwing my armor back onto my shoulders, I tightened my belt and sprang out from behind the blocks. Discarding their bows, which had become useless burdens, the zombies drew short swords from their belts and also advanced on me. How satisfying it was to lay them to rest! Especially that bug-eyed one! When his head rolled across the corridor's stones, I ran up and kicked it with all my might. The zombie's skull flew across the entire corridor, landing in the hall without touching the walls once. I couldn't contain my emotions and adrenaline and bellowed:
"Go-o-o-o-al!!!"
After which, I immediately covered my mouth with my hands. Shouting was ill-advised. Yes, I had put a lot of zombies to rest, but this was only a quarter of the usual number of enemies in a dungeon of this circle. There was still much work ahead of me.
Picking up one of the goblins' bows, I gathered a dozen arrows and tried shooting. The result was terrible. Alas, I only have two Talent Stars in archery, and neither of them is filled. Moreover, the goblin bows turned out to be too small for me, making them uncomfortable to hold. Nonetheless, I took one bow with me and collected another dozen arrows. "Extra stock is not a burden," as the saying goes, is a particularly pertinent adage in a tunneller's line of work.
Before looking for new enemies, I meticulously searched the cleared hall for traps. I found as many as six, and that's just in one room! By the looks of it, there must be over a hundred scattered throughout the dungeon. This search took me almost half an hour. If not for the achievement of the "Pure Palm of Five Empty Fingers," or more precisely, the bonus that was received for it, I would have been dead from the Plague. But since I have immunity to diseases, there was no need for me to rush.
After a similarly thorough and careful examination of all the corridors, I was ready to move on.
The new hall greeted me with another horde of the undead. Even though I knew what to do, I still nearly managed to get myself killed. I couldn't have guessed that all four zombie archers could turn out to have full sight! The chance of that happening is less than one in a thousand, but it was my luck to get it.
I dodged one arrow. My gambeson took on two others. But the fourth one, which annoyingly had an armor-piercing tip, penetrated my chainmail rings and even pierced through my under-armor, sinking into my side almost half a palm deep.
I hate goblin archers!
I had to run away again. Fortunately, zombies are not good at running fast, and I managed to break away. I had to pull out the arrow, clean the wound, and drink another Full Recovery Potion.
I was so furious! What aboard the "Defector" seemed like almost a walk in the park suddenly turned into an extremely difficult passage, even more dangerous than clearing out the Monkey's Lair. If it weren't for the upgrade of my armor with the elf's alchemy, I would already be dead. And all because of these damned archers! I even had to use another Light Grenade to escape from a new volley. Eyrat forbid the squads from two halls to unite at once. I can't handle eight archers! Regardless of any knowledge of the "future," despite the wootz armor and five Talent Stars in my spear. I just can't.
Wait!
Stop panicking!
"Fear is the mind-killer…" I began muttering Ronin's favorite mantra to myself. And it helped.
When the wave of the undead reached the spot where I had hidden, I was ready. The precise calculation, cold nerves, confident and steady movements - all of this allowed me to lure the undead goblins into another dwarven trap. This time, only half of the squad got caught in it. But I wasn't too upset because I had five more traps like this up my sleeve!
Twice more, the dead legs stepped in the wrong place, and all that was left for me was to finish off those who were still twitching. Then, to perform the same trick with the spear and chainmail, lure out all the arrows from the archers, and then calmly put this irritating undead squad to rest!
Another inspection of the halls and corridors for traps, which again took quite some time, and I was ready for new feats!
Zombies are creatures similar to robots. That is their strength; they don't panic, don't feel pain or fatigue. But that is also their weakness; they can't think in the way we understand it. They don't learn from their mistakes. Therefore, after three hours and two used Full Recovery Potions, the Defiled Dungeon was ready for the Reset. All the regular mobs in it were cleared by me. But this was not enough to lift the Curse of Nulgle from the island. To do this, I needed to destroy the Echo of the true altar. The Echo, which was guarded by the local boss, an undead orc warrior of Wootz rank.
Listening to Larindel's tale about the curse of the island, I mentally compared this boss to an adversary of the Bronze rank. For once, my calculations were not off.
Being undead and thus deprived of his primary strength, the Green Fury of Spirit, the orc zombie indeed lost at least two ranks in his abilities. But I didn't take into account that he became just as indestructible! To put this creature to rest, I had to either decapitate it or pierce its skull. That's where the difficulties arose. Big difficulties.
After half an hour into our duel, I realized that: "A" - the boss is well aware of his weaknesses; "B" - death did not take away his weapon handling skills; "C" - the orc very skillfully defended his only weak spot; "D" - for the first time my spear did not prove very effective, an axe or a two-handed sword was needed here, not a piercing weapon, no matter how sharp; "E" - I am getting tired; "F" - but the orc zombie is not!
Had the Defiled Dungeon been a regular one, I would have lost. My mistake was equating my current self to my "future self," which was far from the truth. The memory of a master warrior didn't make me a master warrior myself. A critical mistake, which was made possible by the wave of success that had accompanied me since the beginning of this Cycle.
What saved me was that this dungeon was a replica of a dwarven fortress. A fortress full of various traps. The undead orc bypassed six of them. He slipped out of the seventh at the last moment. The eighth block that fell on him from the ceiling didn't hurt him, but it knocked one of his two swords out of his hands. Things immediately got easier for me.
The ninth trap crushed his left leg. To lure the orc into it, I had to use my last "Light Grenade." Because if he wasn't temporarily blinded, the undead warrior seemed to sense the traps and avoided them.
Nonetheless, no matter how tired I was by then, a one-legged enemy proved to be within my capabilities. After five more minutes of intense fighting, the dark obsidian tip of my spear plunged deep into his eye socket, piercing through the back of his head. The zombie boss' skull immediately cracked and split into two unequal parts.
We both fell to the stone floor of the cave at the same time. Me from exhaustion. The orc warrior - finally laid to rest.