Holy War Read online

  In the spot that had been a mighty dune a moment before, nothing was left. Deznafar’s bones were strewn across half a mile, and the lesser undead had been crushed to atoms. I couldn’t see Shazz anywhere. The preventers hadn’t survived either, but the Great Portable Altar still stood.

  I found Supreme Grand Master of Unarmed Combat Oyama tying on the sand, unconscious. I carefully touched his shoulder.

  “Master…”

  What…? I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the master’s health bar. It w^as in the red. He was near death! No way… But the logs confirmed it: it was my fault. My Reflection nearly killed him. I survived thanks to Diamond Skin, but Oyama took three times as much damage as I absorbed.

  I took out my Bottomless Healing Potion, uncorked it, poured it into the master’s half-open toothless mouth. Oyama’s health bar crawied up. He opened his eyes, coughed and stood up sharply. I didn’t see him rise, because I flew into the air, carried away by his uppercut. Fortunately, it was a normal strike and not a special move, so I didn’t fly far and Oyama didn’t kill himself. I stood up and took a couple of paces toward the old man—now I could clearly see an ancient and hunchbacked grandfather before me, barely staying upright on rickety legs.

  “Supreme Grand Master Oyama, please allow me to speak!” I shouted hastily, afraid to get much closer. “My name is Scyth. I am a student of your student Sagda, and I wish to learn more of your knowledge…”

  “What? That idiot is still wasting air?”

  “Forgive me, mentor Oyama, but Master Sagda is alive and well…”

  “Who are you calling mentor?” Oyama interrupted. I started to understand where Sagda had gotten his oppositional character. “You are nobody to me and you have no right to call me that. And the same for that Sagda of yours. Get away, before I send you to your ancestors.”

  He snapped his fingers and a portal opened nearby. The master raised a foot to w^alk through it, but stopped.

  “What is your name, undead?”

  “I’m a human. My name is Scyth.”

  “I see what kind of human you are,” Oyama snorted, obviously seeing my true form beneath Cloak Essence. “A rotting dead man in a sharp-eared babe suit. What can you do?”

  “I know Hammerfist, Stnnn…”

  “Enough talk. Show me.”

  Glancing around and making sure we were alone, I charged a full Combo with twenty or so strikes.

  “Heh… Cute. Did you only learn two moves, dead boy?”

  “I’m human. And yeah, I only learned two moves, but… I got ’em down!”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know…” Oyama shook his head. “You’re pretty quick for a corpse, but I don’t teach the undead.”

  I knew how that went. Another master had told me half a year before that he never took on archers… until I offered five hundred gold.

  “Master, if it’s a matter of money, then I’m willing to pay any amount for your teachings.”

  “I don’t care about money. But you do have potential…” Oyama yawned. “I’m very tired. I intend to rest. There is a small village in southern Latteria, Jiri. The people there are simple. When they see a dead man, they bring out their pitchforks. And disguises don’t fool them. But if you can… Then come say hi.”

  Yawning widely, the old man strolled through the portal, which clapped shut behind him.

  I spent the next hour up on a mechostrich, careering around the scorched and soot-covered desert, collecting Spheres of Serendipity. They probably only lasted for a while, and would disappear if I didn’t collect them in time. They’d go to the demons of the Inferno, Marduk or someone else. In any case, my supply of Serendipity was now over eight hundred thousand. Fortune would be pleased.

  There were bones and undead guts everywhere, four craters gleaming with black glass… The player bodies had disappeared, strewing equipment items all over. My inventory was full to bursting—distracted by the epic battle, I hadn’t noticed Magnetism pulling in loot.

  “Guys, there’s mountains of loot here,” I wrote to the clan chat. “I can’t take it all. Head to the fort, well meet there.”

  “We’re waiting for Infect and then moving out. Just got back from school,” Crawler answered.

  I had to do something before the preventers revived. All this time, I’d been waiting for Diamond Skin to cool down so I could survive the altar’s Shining. The real Great Portable Altar had three times as much life as the fake one. Armageddon had removed the protection of the magical blessing and the dome shield. Oyama’s ranged attacks had done some damage too. Frowning, I stepped into the hit zone. All it took was six reflected ticks from Shining.

  The sky flashed, drawing in the energy of the broken altar. In the tremble of the explosion and the furious roar from Nergal, I almost missed some words aimed at me:

  “…Legate!”

  Looking up, I saw Shazz floating above me. He looked in a bad way even for a corpse, but he’d survived. Mystery-level Oyama, if he’d stayed longer, would have finished the lich off with a snap of his fingers, but the master of martial arts was gone, and I couldn’t damage my ally.

  I guessed what I had to answer:

  “But there is no death in sendee to the Destroying Plague!”

  “Is that it?” The lich pointed a crooked finger at the wTeckage of the altar.

  “Yes. I don’t know how long for, but all the undying ones we killed will revive far away from here now.”

  “That is well,” Shazz hissed. “I need time to restore my legion.”

  “What about Deznafar?”

  “He will be raised again. It will take time and much energy, but I managed to preserve him. I must retreat to the stronghold, Legate. What will you do?”

  “I have a mission from the Nucleus to complete…” I answered mysteriously. “Tell me, Legate, why did you not raise any of the undying?”

  “The Nucleus did not order me to. In any case, the undying that we encountered today are weak. Weaker than the weakest of the local fauna. I will take into consideration my mistakes. I will erect a Plague Ziggurat and create a legion of the desert monsters. The flesh of sentients is too fragile. But that is not news.”

  Done talking, Shazz floated away toward the stronghold without a word. He was lurching a little, but I saw the thousands of fine streams of energy he was pulling from the corpses.

  The preventers would recover and they too would consider the lessons of the first battle. Another hundred thousand players were on their way here too.

  The Holy War had officially started.

  Chapter 2: No Comment

  I MET THE BOYS at the Stronghold of the Destroying Plague and took us all to the battlefield with Depths Teleportation. There we ran into a relatively small group, around forty marauders already digging through loot.

  The sight made my eyes widen with greed. I had to fight myself not to rush over and try to take it off them. Infect, nearly crying, guitar and horn raised, was about to run out on his own to ‘get those bastards!’ and even summoned a couple of ogre gladiators. Thankfully, Bomber stopped the bard from revealing himself and making trouble.

  The boys laid down on the peak of the dune and I went to deal with the group. They were careless, drunk on their good luck.

  Crash, my mighty and terrible Diamond Worm, came as the ninja-looters’ first surprise. I hadn’t brought him to the battle with the preventers, although it was within the monster’s range. Next, Storm flew in. Her low-level lightning bolts were weak against top players for now, but the psychological effect exceeded all expectations: the looters stopped picking up loot and scattered in fear.

  Crash, an organic all-consuming train, swallowed one player, drilled through another with his tail and crushed a third, all in mere seconds. The dragoness distracted others, emitting roars and terrifying strikes of forked lightning.

  Thanks to my pets, I approached the looters unnoticed and started taking them down one after another with ordinary Hammerfists. I had to fire off a full-series
Combo against one particularly hefty knight. His full-length shield flew back in his arms with such force that its edge cut through his unprotected neck right beneath his helmet. The knight’s breastplate stove in his chest, finishing him off.

  Drawing the attention of the others, I fired my Sharkon’s Mane shield, then worked with my standard Unarmed Combat moves and Reflection. The looters were level three hundred on average, roughly around my level. They didn’t even make my Diamond Skin activate. The foity marauders could do nothing against me and my pets—my health wasn’t even dowm to half.

  The looters were almost all confirmed gankers, because they had high penalties, which meant a high chance to lose equipment: not only what they’d taken, but their own too. Crawler had less of a handle on his greed than I did: the undead gnome wanted to take everything, not just the epics and legendaries. The boys didn’t skip anything while collecting the loot, even picking up the occasional green. They used the ’Take all from corpse’ feature.

  The boys could handle this themselves. I left them under the protection of Crash and headed to Kinema. I jumped right to the ASS building, which Grokuszuid had given me permission to do last time we’d met.

  The auctioneer personally escorted me to the transport guild. As it turned out, all the key buildings of the League of Goblins were joined together in a single portal network accessible only to the green-skinned, longeared little folk themselves.

  Grokuszuid introduced me to a relative of his, Gruzelix, who turned out to be a big deal in the guild. An old, hunched goblin with powerful shoulders. He shook my hand, crushing it in a death-grip. Those claws could have torn through mechatank armor. And the faded scar across his face made it clear the old goblin hadn’t spent his whole life in an office.

  “I know who you are, Scyth,” Gruzelix said, baring his fangs. “Impressive, what you did in the Lakharian Desert, impressive…”

  I knew how the goblins knew so much: their second divine protector Bargrivyek gave his wards information. This was exactly how the League had risen so high; they always knew what to sell to whom, and where.

  With Grokuszuid as my agent, I managed to sign a very advantageous contract. The transport guild promised to provide haulers with instantaneous (well, almost) travel to the desired destination as soon as I gave the order. For that purpose, they gave me a red token: Delivery!

  Rare accessory.

  Order hauler services right now! Use this accessory to make an order. The Goblin League: the customer isn’t always right, but they sure are when they pay!

  Use the transport guild’s haulers! Instant, safe, reliable!

  Sale price: cannot be sold.

  Chance of loss after death lowered by 100%.

  Durability: indestructible.

  There were various options for species of hauler, but today I chose giants, each of which had three thousand slots. Their health points were far higher than the other options too. The guild guaranteed the security of its clients’ property and paid out compensation if it was lost.

  “Yes, we compensated the Alliance for the cost of one altar,” Gruzelix said, anticipating my question. “The fake one. As for the second, that is another story…”

  On top of that, I’d managed to negotiate another deal: after the Awoken fort got a stationary portal, it would be connected to the guild’s portal network. That meant we’d get independent movement throughout Disgardium! An unbelievably expensive pleasure, of course, but worth it.

  “Who else has these perks?” I asked.

  “Very few. And more precisely, they had them,” Gruzelix frowned. “The Commonwealth clans Modus, Children of Kratos, Excommunicado and Azure Dragons. The Empire clans Travelers…” he listed all the Alliance clans. “But after their leader dropped a meteorite on our employees, we ended our contract with them.”

  Uh-huh. So that was the ’other story.’

  “As did we,” Grokuszuid added. “By the will of divine, greedy and heartless Maglubiyet, we practice the rule of collective responsibility. All the clans involved in hiring the giant haulers are at fault.”

  “What does that mean? Will you fight them?”

  “Ahem. We do not fight,” the goblin answered, chuckling. Smiling, the goblins exchanged glances. “We are ending our relationship with those clans. Access to Kinema is closed to them. And that means our sendees too: the banks, the Auction for Special Sales, the stationary portal networks, the airship travel service…”

  Before we parted, Grokus gave me an unusual coin.

  “This will allow you to contact me. If it is worth it to you, then wherever you are, I will open a portal to you.”

  Faded Coin: Grokuszuid

  Mechanism.

  Within this artifact is hidden a triumph of the Goblin League’s mages and engineers. It allows you to contact its true owner from any point in Disgardium and serves as a portal beacon.

  Durability: indestructible.

  Sale price: cannot be sold.

  Chance of loss after death lowered by 100%.

  “How do I use it?”

  “Just toss it…”

  I thanked the old goblin and returned to the desert. Five giant haulers accompanied me, each boasting not only a huge carrying capacity, but a simply superhum… no, a supernatural amount of health.

  I got back just in time. While the boys were finishing up with the loot, the preventers appeared on the horizon, hurrying back to reclaim their lost riches. We quickly escaped to Kharinza with Depths Teleportation…

  Leaving my friends in the fort to sort out the loot, I logged out of Dis. The last few days had been tense. I didn’t have another sleepless night in me. I didn’t have the strength to tell the boys about my adventures.

  My tiredness was so deep that I just didn’t care anymore. I knew in my head that I had to protect the temple, and strengthen the fort, and hurry to level up over four hundred, to be the first to reach that level—there’d be some kind of achievement for that too, right? But I was wiped out. I needed a break.

  I climbed out of my capsule and staggered to the kitchen. My parents’ faces froze in concerned anticipation.

  “The Alliance is broken, dad, but just read about it online. Is there anything to eat, mom?”

  I don’t remember what I ate, what we talked about. I just shoveled food into my mouth, chewed, went to my bedroom, fell down on the bed and slept until morning.

  I would have slept longer, but my parents woke me up to say goodbye. Still half-awake, I didn’t know what they were talking about at first, but then I got it: they were going to the Moon!

  “Silver Harbor?” I asked.

  “It turned out kind of expensive,” dad frowned. “Thirty thousand phoenixes for two weeks! But mom and I will get it all back to you, Alex!”

  “Forget it,” I shrugged and sat up in the bed. “Want me to come to the spaceport with you?”

  “You should get some more sleep, son…” dad started, but mom interrupted him.

  “No way. You’re a growing boy, Alex! You need to get a good sleep! Forget about everything and rest! You don’t have to go to school all week, so take advantage!”

  “What were you going to say, dad?”

  “Your preventer friends are giving interviews everywhere. The leaders told everyone not to upload videos of the battle with the undead army, but someone did it anyway. Now Hinterleaf, Horvac and the others are forced to answer the journalists’ questions. Take a look, I think it’ll be interesting. In any case, you can get some rest. Judging by the leaks on the forums, the Alliance is taking a break to level up. Some of them are trying to be the first to level four hundred…”

  “Mark!” mom shouted. “Enough. Alex just woke up, and we’re late for our shuttle!”

  We hugged, mom made me promise to call whenever I got out of my capsule, to eat well and not to throw any parties at home. I hadn’t even thought of that last one, but when mom left the room first, dad stayed behind and said quietly: “Take advantage of this, kiddo! Invite your frie
nds over, bring some girls round, have fun! Life isn’t all about Dis, Alex…” He left with a smile.

  There was no point in trying to sleep; it wouldn’t have worked anyway. My brain was already firing up and generating plans for the day: figure out what the preventers planned to do; get intel on how the mass of independent players was moving; meet with Hairo in Cali Bottom; talk to Behemoth and decide our next steps; figure out what to do with Morena’s cultists; level up the fort… And that was only the urgent.

  I stood for ten minutes under the high-pressure sprays of water coming not only from above, but from the side of the shower cabin, and in contrast mode too. Icy water made my heart freeze one moment, then randomly turned burning-hot, then back again. I was fully awake after the contrast shower.

  Mom left me breakfast, bacon and eggs, toast. Numbers on the plate showed the calories and nutritional information. The glass of juice showed the same. There were more calories than I needed, but I didn’t know when I’d have the chance to eat again. I ate it all while I watched the news on yesterday’s battle.

  “There was a traitor in the clan, a mole working with the class-A threat,” Otto Hinterleaf said. It was a video recording from real life. The familiar pot-bellied old man didn’t look worried, just a little tired. “And we deliberately passed false intel onto the Threat about the Great Portable Altarl”

  “What about the real altar, Mr. Hinterleaf?” the cute journalist girl asked.

  “All in good time. That’s all, we’re in a hurry!”

  Fen Xiaoguang flashed by in the background. I heard the journalists crowding him with questions: “Mogwai! Mogwai! Tell us about your duel with the Threat…” but he waved them away and told them all to go to the Nether in both English and Chinese. The subtitles beneath copied Fen’s bombastic speech aimed at me: “a toad who wants to tty swan meat” and an “insect” that he would crush.

  The video changed. The interview had been taken before the battle, but now the viewers saw the beginning of the real altar’s sad end. First there was a short clip of Deznafar’s attack, peppered with exciting commentary from the hosts. Whenever a new type of undead appeared, the video stopped and whatever information was known about the mob was shown, including its stats and abilities. A reporter gleefully discussed the scenes where Shazz’s undead tore into the preventers.