Chapter 5

* * *

I went upstairs, quickly undressed, and sat in the shower for more than half an hour. The hot water always helped me calm down, and it didn't let me down this time either. If just recently I could hardly hit the keyhole with the key, so I was shaking and pounding on the residual adrenaline, the scalding streams dispersing the blood and relaxing my muscles, released this tension, taking it along the sewer pipes, somewhere far down, to eventually splash out into the ocean and dissolve it in the waters of the world.

I examined my face in the mirror: a couple of abrasions and a little swelling where Meck had hit it. I got off pretty easy. That was putting it mildly, considering I could have ended up in the ICU after the fight. I took a piece of ice out of my little fridge, put it on the bruise, and lay back on the bed.

Thoughts flitted about like the Stymphalian birds under Hercules' arrows. None of them lasted long. What kind of Face would I get, with my helplessness? A lot of Heroes became Heroes in their final feat, and before that moment they were quite ordinary people. Like Tironis, who, according to the annals, was a coward of cowards. But when the beastfolk burned Vienne, he overcame himself and managed to lead the rest of the garrison into the attack, killing the spawn of Taranis with his own hands. If such a countenance shone upon me, would I be able to overcome myself to do the Deed? Judging by what had happened today, my faith in my ability to do the deed was shattered. And if I couldn't, I would probably stay behind the Threshold. If I dared to go through the Arch at all.

How can I even talk about The Arch if I don't log into Avalon Arena under my main account, worrying about losing my place in the world rankings due to injury. More precisely, once the cast was removed and the first round of physical therapy was completed, I played several matches, which resulted in a drop from one thousand two hundred and ninety-nine to nine thousand eight hundred and seventy-fifth place in the rankings. Since there are only ten thousand Diamond League level players out of eighty million subscribers, one more loss and I'll go down to Platinum. After that, I made a new account, under which I played, and only in random, unrated battles. Victories, albeit in this, as the players say, "sandbox", at least a little, but still kept my tone from falling into the deep abyss of self-deprecation.

To at least somewhat calm the incessant tossing of thoughts in my head, I sit down at the computer. With the development of technology, finding the information I need has become much easier. Almost everything can be found on the Web. The problem is that the things I would like to learn more about are in this "almost". There is no information on the Arch and pilgrimages on the global web. By the will of Three Faced, only word of mouth can tell about it and bring it up in conversations in general.

Logically, I need to go to the Temple. First, to pray, because I haven't offered a gift to the Trinity once this week. Secondly, I should talk to the priests; they won't say much directly, of course, but they are always frank, and maybe they'll give me some good advice. But I don't feel like going out again after what happened. And it's almost five p.m., the days at the end of July are short, so it will soon be dark.

For five minutes I watched my favorite screen saver, with a dolphin jumping out of the water and catching a flying fish. Then, after wandering haphazardly around the web for about fifteen minutes, I minimized my browser and launched the Battle Arena of Avalon. The flat clicker cursor froze over the game's login icon. I glanced at the login bar, which had my duplicate address written on it. Am I really such a coward that I even play with those who cannot offer normal resistance? Is it all just because I'm afraid of getting knocked down to a lower level in the league? If I can't even cope with such a small fear, what am I pondering about the Arch?

With a little flutter, the mouse cursor slid across the screen.

Do you want to change your account?

Yes.

Enter login.

After doing the necessary steps, for the first time in over a month I look at my main account page:

Character Name: CapNemo. Favorite class: sniper. Preferred Weapon: Railgun. Total wins 38,423. Ranking level of fights: Diamond League. Position in the world rankings: 9,875

Picked a random single ranked battle and froze for almost a minute. It took a lot of mental effort to just click the flat clicker.

There is a search for teams...

What kind of day is today? One thing and another, and all somehow crooked and unfortunate. And so the map fell out of all the many possible ones, probably the most inconvenient one for my class. It was a digital replica of the Rome International Airport terminal, half-destroyed, of course. It had a minimum of open spaces and well-aimed sectors from a distance. Stormtroopers and Jaegers or very lucky Engineers decide everything here, and Heavy Infantry and my class are of little use.

From the outside or with low gaming skill it may seem that this arena is well balanced, there are places for both the sniper and heavy turret. The trouble is that these places are few, and experienced players know them well, in addition, each such area can be bypassed by an alternative route. But the fact that this particular map fell out was half the trouble, the other half was that we were the attacking team... And I with the railgun, which in narrow corridors and halls cluttered with the debris is not so convenient, and here we have to attack.

Battles in the Diamond League either end very quickly or, conversely, when the timer expires. This one first went according to the first scenario...

After the initial countdown was complete, I noticed my fingers on the keyboard trembling. The tension I felt seemed like it should have electrified the air in my whole little room.

The first twenty seconds, as the team dispersed, taking up points and forming seemingly spontaneous groups, filled me with a feeling akin to rapture. Immediately you could see that each player knew what he had to do. There's no fuss, no herds breaking into one direction, everything is competent and calculated. The Medic goes after the Assaults, the Engineer covers the Heavy, the Snipers go for cover, and the only Jaeger in the team takes off on a reconnaissance mission.

Except it's a really bad day. In the twenty-fifth second, a voice alert goes off in my headphones:

"First Blood!"

The same Jaeger, who I actually thought started competently, throws back his skates at the first contact with the enemy.

How's that? I couldn't help the outburst of emotion.

Sorry, took a chance, it didn't work... the unsuccessful scout typed back.

Such a noob... expresses the general team opinion of one of the stormtroopers.

ICP! the heavy infantry echoes him.

There is no time to distract myself further by chatting, as our pair of Heavy and Engineer collide with an attacking group of the enemy. A short firefight, in which I manage to shoot once and miss, ends with the fact that by calling fire on myself, I distract the heavy weapons of the enemy. I have to escape from the enemy's focus by expending two smoke grenades. The tempo thus won is enough for our pair to make the score two-one. But this advantage doesn't last long. No sooner has our heavy infantryman rolled up his machine gunpoint than an enemy Jaeger falls on him from the ceiling beam, unexpectedly coming out of stealth mode so close to us. With four swings of the vibrosword and not only the Heavy infantryman dies, but also the Engineer, who did not have time to finish mining.

Two : Three!

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

I take two shots with the Cougar, but hit only once, which is not enough to destroy the target. Realizing that I don't have time to shoot him before the Jaeger stealth ability is restored, I swiftly make my way under the cover of the second command group.

Running past the window, I take a shot from the railgun to the point where, theoretically, an enemy Sniper might be lurking. This is not a shot for luck, it is the usual "prevention", as natural for any good player as the automatic change of the main weapon, if it is in a long reload.

Three: Three!

Am I hit? That's right! My frag!

Оh! Yeah!!! I decided to share my joy with the team.

But my good mood quickly fades:

Three: Four!

Three: Five!

Yikes!!! How is he made us?! writes one of the dead.

Jett, that bastard has a jet! explains his fellow sufferer.

They've had Stormtrooper with a Jet and a Tyra! Check the sky!!! immediately articulates the first one more clearly.

The Jetpack, i.e. the rocket booster, allows the wearer to fly for a short time or to accelerate sharply. It is not the most popular option, because it is only available to Stormtroopers and replaces the body armor. The Tyra, on the other hand, is a very popular weapon, a long-barreled Iberian assault rifle with minimal scatter, a comfortable scope, and impressive killing power. It has no full-automatic fire mode, only a three-round burst. But when you kill an enemy with one such turn, it doesn't matter that much.

Concentrate, I ask for a chat.

I don't want to lose so much!!!

Don't teach true gosu. The surviving engineer response. - Now... Now...

At the other end of the map, something rumbles, and I see a column of fire that scorches even the high ceiling of the terminal.

Six: Five!

I'm Goooooood!!! I can feel our Engineer at his computer screaming in ecstasy. - You idiots weren't expecting mine mines! Easy! - He still has time to pee in the general chat room! - Now suc...

"Warning to player NumerosQuarta. NumerosQuarta is blocked for ten seconds for insulting remarks," the system intervenes immediately.

A positional skirmish on my flank ends with the Storm, who covers me, taking two men with him with my help, being killed in the exchange, my last smoke grenade coming in just in time.

Eight: Six!

This flank is clear, it's time to change position, but I don't have time...

Nine: Six!

Nine: Seven!

We're outnumbered, but I'm not happy, because of the composition of those who survived. We had a Sniper, a Medic, and an Engineer, while the enemy had a fully healthy Stormtrooper with a Jetpack. If I watched this situation from the sidelines, I would have bet, most likely, on us, if we went in a group. But unfortunately, I was at the other end of the terminal from the rest of our pair in the game.

Nine: Nine!

Pull!

What's there to catch?!

Don't disturb Cap!

Oh, shut up!

No chance here, it's some kind of monster, he dodged a shot at point-blank range!

Don't say bullshit, you missed...

No, look at that, that Nemo has a rail... Noob, how are you in Diamond?!

Shut up, you jerks!

Nah, how I busted 'em out! Did you check it out? I blew up gas canisters in an abandoned diner and boo-hoo-hoom! Boo-hoo! Aha-ha-ha!

Shut up!

Shut up, you can praise yourself later.

Shut up, nah...!

Pull, Nemo! Bring it on! I've got to get this replay out! My genius subversion can't go unrecorded for History! And this guy is typing fast.

Disturb, I wrote, and the chat goes silent, this is not a sandbox, this is Diamond, those who do not understand when to stop, there is simply not.

The jitters that started when the game started are wearing off. Now it's not a battle of teams, but a one-on-one fight, where everything depends only on me...

Think, Utis...

Think!!!

The opponent already has five kills, and that's in a Diamond League ranked match; in fact, he alone destroyed half of our team. That speaks to the highest level of play combined with luck. His nickname, "Fugitive to Boot," was completely unfamiliar to me. Of course, I don't know everyone who plays in BAA, but I have crossed paths with a great many ranked players on arena fields. Or maybe I've seen him before, but do not remember, although it's unlikely, such an illiterate person who can't even write his nickname correctly, I would remember. Well, how can you in the phrase "Fugitive in Boots," make so many mistakes, and even so obvious? However, perhaps he is a migrant who still does not understand when to use the correct "to" and when to "in", and this is possible.

Since this map is very uncomfortable for my class, I spent a lot of time studying it. This is probably my least favorite arena, but it's also my most studied one. So what moves can I make in this situation?

If I recall Sensei's tactical lessons, my plan should be to try to impose combat at long range. Even on this map, it is theoretically possible but the Stormtrooper's Jetpack breaks this strategy at its roots. Because with it the opponent is able to move much faster and use all three dimensions in his movements. If I had a different rifle, the lack of body armor on the assault rifle could have been a plus for me. But the railgun already kills a Stormtrooper in maximum armor, even if it hits in the chest, so there's no gain here either.

The question, by the way, is interesting, is his chat turned off or not? In the Diamond League, I keep it on, but not everyone does that. If it's on, he's already been told what kind of weapon I have. I'll assume the worst: he knows I have a rail. What are the conclusions from this? I wouldn't risk flying a jet in an open area, knowing that one hit would be fatal for me. But using the booster to move from cover to cover would be a good strategy. It made it almost impossible to get an accurate shot, and if I did pull the trigger, he would spot my location.

Another possibility is that he would not use the jetpack at all, but go quietly through the main sniper points. And the worst scenario for me is when I have an unambitious opponent against me, then he'll crouch in some corner and sit there, pointing the barrel of his weapon at the entrance to the shelter. Since I'm the one who has to kill him, and all he has to do is make it to the end of the round, so... I would definitely choose the third option, as it practically guarantees a hundred percent victory against the Sniper.

Since the third option is a guaranteed loss, I discard it from consideration. If it is implemented, then trying to do something is a pointless endeavor. The first two strategies give at least a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.

This is me trying to calculate my opponent's actions, but there is an equally interesting question: what behavior does he expect from me? I hope that the obvious attempt to impose the fight at maximum range. He knows where I've been spotted by his team, assuming his chat is working. I know where the Medic's and Engineer's names are extinguished, which is his approximate location. To act correctly in this situation would be for me exactly the same as to a goalkeeper in soccer, to cover the near corner, even when I am seventy percent sure that the shot will be at the far corner. Simply because a near-corner goal is considered a mistake by the goalkeeper, and a far-corner goal is considered a skill by the striker.

Acting the way I was taught, I would probably lose, yes, it would be a so-called "right" loss, but that would be of little comfort to me. So how can I win? What did Sensei say about my strengths? A master of unorthodox solutions. Well, even though he doesn't see this match, why not act on that praise? What do I have to lose? If I fail, I lose a little faster, that's all. Or, after all, "to surprise is to win," isn't it!

Imposing close combat on a Stormtrooper as an unsupported Sniper is a crazy idea! I don't think my opponent's mind would work that way. To take my chance, I first had to convince him that I was going to play it "right". Taking a higher place, I began to observe. A flicker of jets in one of the corridors made me feel relieved: there was a gambler against me. That increased my odds from about ten to twenty percent.

Having roughly calculated where the enemy might appear, I aimed the railgun at the right point. Even if I am right, and he will follow the assumed route, he will be in the open for the firing sector for less than a third of a second. That said, I don't know the altitude at which the Stormtrooper will fly through this space. Consequently, you can not count on a hit, but my prediction is different...

The outburst.

Shot.

Miss.

I immediately jump out of my place, but run not away from the enemy, but, on the contrary, in his direction. We can't see each other, so he doesn't know I'm shortening the distance, but he knows where the shot came from. This is my first shot. Here are two paths where we can cross in this movement toward each other, if we miss each other, I repeat the trick, and if not, then...

We didn't.

As good as the enemy Stormtrooper was, he was not expecting this encounter. His turn went much to the left. But I didn't hit either; by some miracle, the enemy managed to get out of the line of fire. I squeezed the trigger as the crosshairs looked into his chest, the target seemed imminent, but my tracer went by. His mastery of the jet is unparalleled. He manages to react, taking himself out of the line of fire.

Weapon change.

I jump back and to the right, hiding behind the nearest corner, and press myself against the wall. This section of the map simulates an old terminal. It's all concrete, and I don't have to worry about my opponent taking advantage of Tyra's killing power to shoot right through the corner. Even my rail would fail here.

There were about two dozen meters between us at the moment of my shot. In the time it takes him to get there, the railgun won't reload, I know it, and he knows it for sure.

A beginner in the place of the enemy will jump out from behind a corner or shorten the distance on a jet. But an experienced player knows that this is not necessary in this situation. The corridor here is long, I can't run away from him if I want to. So he'll just run up to keep a straight vector of fire along the whole length of the street and, catching in the worst case for himself one bullet from the Cougar, he'll put a short burst into me. The result of such a firefight is predictable; he survives, I don't.

What I want to do requires a precise calculation. I won't play it with reaction only.

The players' models are the same height, he is holding a long-barreled Tyra assault rifle. Calculating altitude, pointing...

By the rapidly approaching shadow, I understand - the calculation is correct, he is not on the jet and not in the jump!!!

I pull the trigger before the Stormtrooper appears in front of me.

Shoot.

Hit!

I'm hit!!!

A fraction of a second and...

The barrel of the enemy's rifle stares me in the chest. I can almost physically feel a stranger clicking the left flat clicker button somewhere far away. Then again. I can literally hear his lips curse from not understanding why I'm still alive and his weapon doesn't fire.

The animation of the enemy changing weapons no longer keeps up with me...

The Cougar's reloading is complete, and the barrel of my revolver stares into the Stormtrooper's nose, the game point of instant death.

Shot.

"Win!"

All twenty seconds, until the game forcibly ends the fight, I enjoy reading the chat:

What's a cheat?!

Aha-ha-ha! Into the favorites, definitely!!!

What was that? I don't get it!

Cheater! Let's report him, guys!!!

WTF?

"Warning to player Fugitive to Boot. Chat player Fugitive to Boot is blocked for ten seconds for insulting remarks."

Nemo, I love...

The countdown to the end of the session threw me into the statistics menu, preventing me from fully enjoying my triumph.

No, I'm not a cheater, it's just that my first bullet hit the right place, in the barrel of my opponent's rifle, thus incapacitating it. Calculating the aiming height based on the same size of game models and the fact that my opponent's long-barreled weapon will appear from around the corner before he does, prove itself completely.

I'm shaking.

It was...

Eat me Kronos...

Amazing!

Awesome!

And even if the chances were minimal.

But it's so beautiful...

For the sake of such victories, it is worth playing.

It's definitely worth it.

* * *