An hour after he left the bar and returned to finish another batch of Dream Meth, Dasha checked the time and date. Every Monday, a new Gate opened and this week it was Gate 12. ‘Time to clear it again,’ he thought, opening his map and teleporting to the Heavenly Tower. A dark tower of awesome height surpassing the genius of humanity. The instant he entered it, his Qi Sense was momentarily overwhelmed.
Killing Plait the Bravest Knight during Gate 10 gave him two hundred thousand XP and PP. He had already completed Gate 11 and 12, finishing the former in record time and receiving bonus XP, bringing him up to Level 31. Time was sacred and repeating gates was the fastest way to gain levels, equalled only by mindless grinding at Valhalla’s Colosseum.
‘Valhalla’s Colosseum is too busy after Gate 10. I was told to pick up my Classification Card whenever I’m available.’ Already at the Server Room, he walked through the gate. ‘Later.’
He went from silence to a greater silence. A flat gray battlefield where no discernable features could be seen. This was Thermopylae, a mountain where one of the most legendary last-stands in human history occurred.
[ Gate 12 : Catch Ephialtes of Trachis
Main Objective: During the Battle of Thermopylae, Ephialtes of Trachis betrayed King Leonidas, the Spartans, and his home! Capture him and do what must be done! ]
Prize Pool: 15,000 XP, 15,000 PP
SPECIAL OBJECTIVE: ?
SPECIAL PRIZE POOL: ? ]
The Battle of 400. The Unwinnable Battle. The Spartan Spirit. The Battle of Thermopylae was known for such descriptions and more. It was a perplexing battle for the Persian King, Xerxes. On the first day of battle, the king sent archers and then conducted a full-frontal assault consisting of ten thousand Medes and Cissians. When that bore no fruit, the king stood up and ordered his Persian Immortals to fight.
His very best troops failed. The Immortals made no deeper headway than the Medes and Cissians. It was impossible and on the second day the king simply did what he did before. Fight, fight, fight, until they were gone. His superior shields and numbers should have led to a swift, brutal victory. Instead, it became a last-stand like no other. The Spartans defended and lived.
Victory could have potentially been in the hand of the Spartans if not for the great traitor, Ephialtes, who revealed the mountain path around Thermopylae. A flank that would surely end the Greek line. The plan had been to outlast the massive Persian army and their whittling supplies.
That was where Dasha stood: in the middle of that legendary flank, waiting. Footsteps crunched the ground. A runner appeared. It was him: Ephialtes, donning armour of the hoplite, citizen-soldiers of Sparta equipped with spears. Crafted from bronze, Ephialtes’ armor provided a protective layer against the perils of battle while allowing for agility on the battlefield. A bronze breastplate, a Corinthian helmet, bronze greaves extending from knee to ankle, a two-metre long spear called the dory, and a round hoplon shield adorned with the emblem of his city-state.
He was a shepherd of the area, a Trachinian that betrayed his homeland for money. History differed rom the Heavenly Tower, however, which either took a couple liberties or was showing that which the history books forgot. The simple shepard hadn’t just ran and whispered to the Persian King of the flank area, he had done so by killing the Spartans stationed at the vulnerable path.
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Upon seeing Dasha, the spearman slowed down, his lengthy spear careful reaching far and with caution.
“You,” Ephialtes said, “who are you?”
[ Name: Ephialtes
Level: 22
Class: Intermediate Spearman ]
Dasha had unequipped Járngreipr, the Seven-league Boots, Tarnkappe, and the Ruh al-Qital. His stats were certainly more logical for his current gate, though not at all acceptable. Jack the Ripper’s mask, forever stuck to his face, created waves of dark magic to radiate from him. Ephialtes remained cautious, afraid but not cowardly.
‘This is my third attempt,’ Dasha thought. ‘I killed him in two seconds in my first attempt and played with him during my second. I went around to check the area and was hit by the map limitations. Even then, I came back and killed him in less than a minute. That means the special and hidden objectives aren’t based on time. There’s something I have to do here, but what?’
“Aren’t you going to answer? Who are you?” Ephialtes asked, irritated. Every second that ticked by was another second that the king could catch up to him. Was that it? Wait and fight for an NPC to spawn?
He browsed through the library of books in his head. ‘Thermopylae means ‘hot gates’. Some sources say that the spring at the base of the path is where the entrance to Hades is. Others say it is the spring where Heracles tried to wipe the poison of the Hydra.’ The map, however, was limited by a circular range of twenty metres. This gate was self-contained to an absurd degree.
As he was thinking, the Spartan spear, longer than the average human, flew at him. His Qi Sense, always active, detected the spear the second it entered his range and threw his body into action. His head jerked left, avoiding the mighty spear, and he stepped forward to close the distance. Ephialtes swung his spear after him and was shocked to see Dasha put a hand on it and pull himself up. The spear’s momentum, however, never stopped and Dasha used the opportunity to slam him with a fiery punch, no incantations needed.
Ephialtes grunted as he tumbled back. One hand holding the heavy spear and the other occupied by the shield, he elected to throw the shield away for a two-handed grip and superior speed. The air was sliced upon every proceeding thrust, missing Dasha by a hair’s breadth. In a one-on-one battle against anyone else, the soldier might have been trouble for a player. Early Stage Qinggong, Qi Sense, and Foundation Establishment prevented the civilian Spartan soldier from landing a single blow.
“Ha! Ha! Hya!”
Miss, miss, miss. There was nothing Ephialtes could do but attack since Dasha wasn’t interested in retaliating too hard. He needed him alive. He needed to wait. The more he tapped into his soul, the more darkness leaked from his mask. Getting it under control was next to impossible, it seemed. More surprisingly was Ephialtes’ unwavering spirit. Perhaps the bravery it took to betray the Spartans was just as great as facing the Persian army. That was surely what Ephilates thought and drove him to attack Dasha despite the malicious intent in the mask he wore.
Two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes. Civilian Spartan training on top of shepherding blessed Ephialtes with an absurd body by modern standards.
Nothing. No one appeared. He fought for another ten minutes, even letting Ephialtes stop to catch his breath for a minute. Even then, nothing indicated towards a special or hidden objective. Ephialtes demanded questions, demanded why he got in his way, until Dasha got bored and decided this was a complete waste of time.
Silently, he walked up to the exhausted spearman who pushed himself into action. The thrusting spear missed as Dasha dashed into a sprint and slammed him into the ground with a fist. Blood spewed out and he began pumelling into him with a fire-encoated fist.
Ephialtes, the traitor of Sparta, was dead. Dasha lifted his fist from his face, lifted himself, and then ripped a hand through his chest to grab his heart. “Open inventory,” he said, ignoring the panels of the completed gate. The worst thing in the world was wasting time. Meaning had to be assigned to every waking moment. At the very least by collecting his heart he got something to experiment with.
His gaze went down to the rest of his limbs, then to the blood gushing from the hole in his chest. ‘I should harvest his limbs too.’