The ancient Atalians had been powerful sorcerers, and had considered grandiose architecture to be the most appropriate use of their powers. All that was left now were the foundations, made from giant stone blocks, each one taller than Josh. Half of them had tumbled onto the winding old streets, barring the way, and were thickly obscured by briars and ivy. Above them, outlined against the stars, were the jagged ends of broken columns.

There was no sound, and no sign of the scourge. Josh’s hand was sweating where it held his spear, and his throat was thick with fear. He kept his eyes scanning the area, but the jumbled stone about them hid a hundred shadows.

Something tickled his senses, high up on one of the columns, and Josh turned, giving a low shout of warning, even as a something blurred past him, a dark shape with a faint red nimbus about it. A moment later it had disappeared in a rustle of greenery, and when Josh turned around, Gerill was sprawled on the path, on his back. There was a black ribbon lying across his throat.

Not a ribbon, Josh realised with horror. Gerill’s throat had been cut. Josh was seeing an open wound.

Reiner pushed roughly past him even as Josh backpedalled. The men all crowded around the corpse. Reiner face was white in the moonlight, his jaw set. He blinked rapidly. Hold My Beer backed away as well, saying in a high voice “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!”

Josh watched them crowding round the body and thought, no, no, don’t get distracted.

“Keep an eye out, it might come back,” he told them, but his words didn’t penetrate their shock.

Josh felt the tingle again, to the left. Something black, outlined in a red glow, materialised out of the darkness behind Hold My Beer.

Josh lunged forwards with his spear, careful not to hit Hold My Beer. The point of his knife met resistance as it plunged into the half-seen attacker, and there was a human cry of pain, but the red glow blurred again, and then the figure was gone. Hold My Beer had a surprised expression on his face, and then he slowly pitched forwards onto the ground.

Josh swore desperately and knelt beside the fallen villager, but knew their attacker could take advantage of that distraction, just as he had before. He kept his spear pointing outwards and his eyes darting all about him while he held his finger against Hold My Beer’s neck. Josh couldn’t feel a pulse, although he had no idea if he was pressing in the right place. There were no visible wounds.

The remaining men swung around and saw the new body. There were multiple exclamations of dismay. Meikel dropped to his knees beside Hold My Beer and checked him.

“He’s dead too,” he said, his voice wobbling.

“Hold fast!” Reiner ordered. “Form a circle!”

Instead, Aston turned and ran. The moment he did, Hold My Beer’s friend started to panic.

“We’re going to die,” he said, in a shaky voice. “We’re all going to die!”

Meikel grabbed hold of him, as if to stop him running, and looked at Josh.

“Retreat,” Josh said tightly. “Head towards the edge of the ruins.”

This had been an utterly stupid idea, and he hadn’t been any use whatsoever. He hadn’t saved anyone. He had failed, and two people were dead because of it.

Meikel obeyed, tugging Hold My Beer’s friend along with him. Josh turned and walked backwards behind them, keeping his spear out, his senses straining for slight tickle he had felt every time the attacker had struck.

Reiner still stood by the bodies, gripping his axe.

“Come on,” Josh said urgently. “We need to get away!”

“My betrothed...” Reiner began.

“Two men are dead and the rest of us will die if we keep going,” Josh told him. He didn’t feel a tickling sensation this time, but he saw movement behind Reiner. “Behind you!”

Reiner whirled and brought his axe up, catching his attacker’s blade with the hook of his axe just in time. Instead of striking and vanishing, this time the black figure staggered. Had he tripped? Josh pushed Meikel further along the path, towards the outskirts of the ruins.

“Go!” he yelled. “Run!”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you!”

Meikel went, Hold My Beer’s friend on his heels. Josh turned back to the fight, which, surprisingly, was going in Reiner’s favour. The black-clad figure was reeling, as if drunk, missing some of his strikes.

The venom, Josh thought. He circled around, and the black-clad figure tried to put his back to one of the fallen blocks of stone so that he wasn’t flanked, but his movements were increasingly unsteady. Reiner pressed the advantage, grappling the figure’s knife hand and slashing desperately with his axe. Josh jabbed his spear at the figure again, and felt sick as the knife hit, jolted, and slipped in with a sudden rush.

The figure stumbled back, which jerked the spear out of Josh’s hands, then tripped and fell. Reiner flung himself forward, yelling and slashing with the axe in a frenzy, letting out all his pent-up hatred and anxiety at once.

The figure was screaming, a sound Josh never wanted to hear again. Josh scrambled backwards, horrified, and then he realised that the screaming had petered out, and the body of the attacker was melting. No, it was disappearing into thin air, as if it was evaporating, clothes and all.

Abruptly, and belatedly, Josh connected all the clues he had been given. The scourge were crazy, focused mindlessly on killing. They were devils in human skin. They couldn’t be vanquished by ordinary means. They vanished when they died, leaving no trace of a body behind.

The scourge were outworlders.

A short while later, Josh was kneeling on the path while he hastily tied a tourniquet around Reiner’s thigh. Reiner sat with his back to a stone pillar, his face creased with pain and gleaming with sweat in the moonlight.

“I can go on,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Don’t be a fool,” Josh told him impatiently.

“We defeated one, we can do it again.”

“Two of us are dead, and one of us is injured. It’s three of us against four of them, and the ... the scourge are way faster and stronger than we are.”

“Four of us,” Reiner insisted. “I can still fight!”

“Fine,” Josh said, exasperated. “Even if that were the case, it would take ten of us to defeat one of them, so we need forty people.”

“My betrothed...”

“I’ll go and look, okay? Let’s get back to the others first.”

Reiner seized Josh’s shoulder with limp, shaking fingers.

“You would do that for me?” he asked.

“I’ll do my best,” Josh said.

He was planning to go with his original suggestion of sneaking as close as he dared to their camp and spying on them. If he found an opportunity to sneak away with Ophala, then he would, but it depended on what state she was in.

These outworlders had kidnapped a village girl, and when a group of her kin had come to take her back the outworlders had killed them without a second thought. The assassin guy, the black clad one, had clearly been going for maximum terror by striking out of the darkness, killing one of the villagers, and then vanishing again. He’d been doing that for fun.

And then there was the girl. There was only one reason Josh could think of for them to abduct a woman, and it made him sick to his stomach. That was why he was going back in. He tried to focus on his goal, but his mind kept flailing around in circles and getting hung up on people dying.

Josh had killed someone. Most of the blows had been struck by Reiner, but Josh had physically stuck a knife into another human being. Every time he remembered the sensation of it sliding in, his mind flinched away from it.

These outworlders were not the good guys. Josh had to remember that. And death wasn’t permanent. He had to get Reiner and the others out of here before the assassin guy resurrected and came for them again.

It took a long time for Reiner to hobble back to the outskirts of the city, leaning on Josh for support all the way. Josh wanted to curse at him to move faster, but he knew that wouldn’t help. He kept looking over his shoulder, trying to sense the tickle he’d felt. What had caused that? Could you sense the presence of outworlders somehow?

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

It wasn’t until they were nearly back at the outskirts that Josh suddenly realised that, of course, the assassin wouldn’t be able to return immediately. In Spiralia, if you died, you spawned at the nearest resurrection shrine, normally a giant blue crystal plonked down in the wilderness. If you were killed by a player, however, the nearest shrine would be locked to you. You would have to resurrect further away, which allowed for a decisive victory during player-versus-player battles, instead of having everyone repeatedly resurrect. Even if the assassin had respawned immediately, he would be miles away by now. That meant there was time for Josh to put his plan into effect.

Once they’d rejoined the others, it took even longer for Josh to convince Meikel that the party should head back to Haven without him.

“But you’ll be killed!” Meikel kept repeating.

There was a decent chance of that. The outworlders could have other scouts lurking in the bushes, who would be much better at sneaking than Josh. They might have some way of sensing if one of their party died, even if they hadn’t been there to witness it. They might decide to kill Josh on sight, just because they could.

Eventually, however, they loaded Reiner onto Meikel’s back and the others set off. If the two who were uninjured took turns carrying Reiner, they should reach Haven in the middle of the night.

Before Josh went back into the ruins, he reluctantly checked his character sheet. He now had one kill and zero deaths, and his gladiator ranking had jumped up by a whole ten points.

[ACHIEVEMENTS

Fledgling Gladiator I: You have defeated your first outlander! Don’t feel too bad about it. He attacked first. Reward: 250xp. (apply)

Hand of Karma I: You’re going to be one to watch out for—defeating a murderer at your level is no easy task! Reward: 250xp. (apply)

Shuriken (Lvl 18) Vanquished (1/5): It was your foresight and careful planning that saved the day. You avenged those who fell to his hand. Reward: as Shuriken was defeated as part of a quest, you may claim your reward from the Quest menu.]

[QUESTS

A Nest of the Scourge. Clear the remaining scourge from the ruins of Aileth-Mair. Remaining reward: 9,813 xp (shared).]

à Progress: you have defeated Shuriken. Reward: 539 xp (apply).

Josh felt sick. These were real people, not video game avatars. What kind of psychotic nutcase had set up these achievements? The congratulatory tone of the messages, one moment attempting to reassure him, and the next sliding smoothly into sycophancy, was also worrying. Like the chimes for levelling up, there was something repellently manipulative about it. Speaking of levelling up, he couldn’t bring himself to apply the experience. For one, it would be too much like congratulating himself for a job well done, when he felt like a miserable failure, and two, rewarding himself for killing someone, even if it was only temporary … just no.

He would have to do it at some point.

Not right now, however.

The outworlder camp was pretty much in the centre of the ruins, in a small amphitheatre. The other outworlders had made no attempt to hide. They had a campfire going which blazed with sparks—Josh had seen the glow some distance away. He had been cautiously sneaking from shadow to shadow, although he was well aware that he had no real sneaking skills, and that the other outworlders would probably be much higher level. Josh had no chance of staying hidden if they were paying attention.

They weren’t paying attention.

He got down on his stomach and crawled to the edge of the amphitheatre, so he could see into it. There were five figures, which meant the remaining four outworlders were present, plus Reiner’s fiancée, Ophala. She was easy to spot. There were tree trunks arranged in a circle round the fire, forming crude seats, and she was nestled into some furs, lying with her back against the tree trunk. Beside her, his arm slung around her shoulders, was a tall man with heavy dark brows, and short, tousled hair.

Ophala didn’t look like she was an unwilling victim. She had a satisfied expression, and every time her companion paid her a bit of attention, she would give a little toss of her head or a smirk. He was continually offering her things, like a drink from the jug the others were passing around, or a chunk of venison on a stick.

The group had a deer haunch roasting on the campfire, and their survival skills were better than Josh’s, because they had made a good job of it. One of them was slowly turning the carcass on a spit, and the aroma was tantalising. It reminded Josh that he hadn’t eaten since the porridge Goodwife Benton had served him that morning. It had been a huge disappointment to discover that the villagers of Haven didn’t know what lunch was.

Each outworlder had the same red nimbus around them that Josh had seen on the assassin guy. It must be an indicator of an outworlder. Or no, Josh realised. It was the equivalent of a red murderer’s flag in Spiralia. These players were all murderers, not just of locals, but of other outworlders.

Charral, the fey knight who had wanted to kill Josh when he had first arrived, had had exactly the same red nimbus, except hers had been a much deeper, more intense red. That meant she had been an outworlder too. Could outworlders be fey, not just humans? And did a redder glow indicate the number of outworlder kills she had?

Josh hadn’t seen the assassin’s nimbus when he had been hidden. It had only popped up when Josh had known he was looking at an enemy. That meant you probably couldn’t use it to detect outworlders if you didn’t already know they were there.

Could Josh see others’ character sheets? Would they notice if he did? Would that give him away? Shuriken had been level 18. This group must outlevel him significantly, to the extent that it probably didn’t matter whether he knew their classes and levels or not. It would be better not to risk checking, just in case.

Three of the outworlders had American accents, but the one rotating the spit sounded Eastern European. Weirdly, they all had sumptuous outfits, a little ragged, but extravagantly cut, and fashioned out of sumptuous fabric with fleur-de-lis patterns, or coloured stripes of satin which gleamed in the firelight, and folds of soft velvet. They looked like nobles roleplaying bandits. Or a bunch of cosplay fans lost in the wilderness.

They were arguing about experience.

“It was a bad idea to come here.” That was the only female outworlder. She had a southern US twang and one of the others had called her Fren. “This place was cleared out ages ago. I haven’t levelled in six months.”

“Go east?” the Eastern European suggested. It sounded like his name was Meestra. “Good hunting in swamp.”

“Oh yeah, fucking great idea!” Fren exclaimed. “The Chinese got that place locked down, we might as well just offer to donate them free XP.” She added, in an aggrieved tone, “Var are you listening to me?”

She seemed to be addressing the outworlder who was cuddling with the village girl.

“Yeah, I’m listening,” he said, with obvious disinterest. His attention was wholly on his paramour. Josh hoped, for Ophala’s sake, that she was here willingly, and not just faking compliance out of fear.

“Stop playing with your sex toy for two seconds and listen! We’re talking about the XP situation!”

Var rolled his eyes.

“You’ve been talking about nothing else for days.”

“Because it’s important!”

“The venison is nearly done. Why don’t you run along like a good little girl and tell Shuriken the food is ready?”

Fren swelled with indignation.

“I am not a goddam servant!” Her voice rose. “I won’t be talked to like that! Listen, mister—”

Var grinned at her, enjoying the reaction.

“Works every time,” he said to the others.

The fourth guy, who was clutching the jug, sniggered.

“Well fuck you guys,” Fren said. “Next time you need me to save your ass I’m lettin’ ya’ll die, ya hear me?”

“Chill out, Fren, we’re just teasing,” the fourth party member said. His words were slurred. He rolled over towards Varian and said in an ingratiating tone of voice, “Hey, can I have a turn?”

Fren made noise of disgust. Var leapt up, grabbed the sword that was propped up next to him and pulled it from its sheath in one smooth movement. The point was at the drunk guy’s throat before he had time to do more than blink.

“Say that again,” Var hissed, “And I will gut you and stake you out in the forest and leave you to bleed out for three days before I come back and strangle you with your own entrails.”

Drunk Guy scrambled back.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I was just jokin’, man, I dint mean it! Seriously, I dint mean it.”

Var studied him, as if inwardly debating whether to carry out his threat or not. After a tense pause he pulled the sword away, and sat back down next to the village girl. She, Josh was repelled to notice, was bright eyed and smiling. She had visibly relished the little demonstration of power.

Josh was tempted to crawl backwards and leave her to it. He had seen and heard enough to convince himself she was there voluntarily. But on the other hand, he wanted these guys out of the ruins and far away from Haven. He couldn’t fight them, and he never wanted to repeat the experience of killing anyone ever again, even temporarily. What could he do?

He should consult his inner bard. They achieved things via persuasion and trickery.

This group was desperate for experience. Maybe Josh could tell them about the broodmother. That would clear them out of the area, and maybe they would run into the group of outworlders who had decided a broodmother made a good pet. Josh hoped they would focus on fighting each other, instead of interfering with villagers.

He was going to have to walk right into their camp and speak to them.

Josh stood at the top of the steps leading to the amphitheatre. He had already hidden his jar of venom, carefully detached the knife from the walking stick, wiped the blade thoroughly—because he didn’t want to kill himself if he cut himself with it accidentally—and stuck it through his belt. He now held the stick as if it was just a walking stick.

He had also turned his outworlder status back to visible. He took a deep breath.

“Hello!” He called from the top of the steps.

The effect was immediate. Fren leaped up, scooping up a crossbow that had been lying nearby and cocked it in a casual way that implied she was stronger than she looked. Var rolled to his feet, grabbing for his sword again. The Eastern European lunged for metal shield and a spear. Drunk Guy just lay there, the jug in his arms, and blinked at Josh owlishly.

Then Fren said, in incredulous tones, “Oh my god, a level three?”

“How can you tell?” Josh asked. “Is there a way to see people’s character sheets?”

And what, exactly could they see? Not his achievements, he hoped. He had a sudden flashback of a knife on a stick sliding into a body, and crazy screaming as a man died beneath a frenzied axe. The visceral memory of it left him light-headed, and he took a deep breath. He had to make these people think he was their friend.

“Oh my god, what a fucking noob!” Fren began to lower the point of her crossbow.

Meestra said, “Wait, there might be others.”

“It’s just me,” Josh said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. Well, actually some villagers came with me ...” he faltered for a moment. “But ... er ... I, um, I persuaded them to go back.”

Var jerked his chin at Fren. “Check.” To Josh, he said, “What do you want?” Var asked.

Josh tried to calm his breathing and speak in a light, level tone of voice.

“To talk, mostly,” Josh said. “I was curious.”

Fren had put down her crossbow, and now she picked up a bandoleer full of tiny vials. She plucked two out, twisted off the seals, and knocked back the contents in quick succession. Meanwhile, Var gave a little snort.

“You came here, just to talk?” He sounded sceptical.

“Also I did have a quest to rescue, um, Ophala,” Josh admitted. “But, uh, I can see...” His voice trailed away.

Fren had closed her eyes and tilted her head, as if listening.

“Shut up,” she said, and everyone shut up. She rotated in a circle, hands held out around her, listening intently, and raising her nose to scent the air. When she was done, she took another vial, drank it down, and opened her eyes again, shaking her head and wincing as if in pain.

“Ugh,” she said. “It’s clear.”

The others relaxed.

“How long you been in Six Spires?” Meestra asked.

“Two, no, three days?”

Meestra glanced up at Var to see how he had reacted to this, then said, “What part you arrive in?”

“I started out just north Celespire.”

“He might know something useful,” Meestra said to Var, who considered this, and then suddenly came to a conclusion. He sheathed his sword and smiled.

“Why don’t you come down and join us?” Var gestured to the campfire.