The Crystal Sphere (The Neuro Book #1) LitRPG Series, page 8
* * *
It took me about an hour to get to the spot I'd marked on the map. I lay low in the undergrowth, studying the area.
Nut trees thrived in the shade of towering pines. It was relatively cool here. The air smelled of rotting old leaves.
The brightly sunlit clearing promised no surprises. I could easily discern the herbs I needed: covered in tiny white and yellow blossoms, they were quite conspicuous.
At the center of the opening lay the ruins of some ancient fortification overgrown with dog rose bushes. The air was filled with the chirping of a grasshopper and the rasping of wasps. High above, large dragonflies hovered in the sky.
I kept my eye on the mobs. The level 3 wasps looked like the most dangerous of the lot. Still, there weren't that many of them. I focused on the grasshopper: level 1. A dragonfly: level 2.
Very well, then! Let's do it!
The grasshopper aggroed me first, lunging at me unexpectedly from a considerable distance. He was the size of a large dog.
I'd already noticed back in the tunnels that my grip on my weapons was correct. That was exactly what a system message had warned me about,
The neuroimplant makes your skills and reactions identical in both worlds regardless of where you acquired them.
Now was the time to check it. The two years' worth of my experience as a warrior should have left their mark.
I dodged the grasshopper's first attack, then hacked at its chitin jaws with all my might. I wanted to somersault over it to perform the coup de grace, but my attempt failed miserably. Luckily, I hadn't broken my neck but I had hit my head against a tree stump nice and hard. I should have known that all my "warrior reactions" had been produced by the prompt manipulation of the game console buttons. Real combat acrobatics lay way beyond my past life's experience.
The mob took its chance and jumped onto my back, sinking its mandibles into my leather jacket.
It was a good job I was alone. I probably looked a sight. Still, I had no time to ponder over it. I finally shook the creature off my back and jumped to my feet, brandishing my sword. I was soaked in cold sweat. My hits were rare, none of them critical. It took me several minutes to finally smoke the thing. First I poked its eye out, then I happened to chop off a leg, until finally I buried my sword in its belly, my hands shaking. By the time I finished it off, I was all covered in green slime.
Having thus won by a hair's breadth, I staggered back to the nut grove and collapsed to the ground, trying to suppress a bout of nausea.
It took me some time to pull myself together. No idea what I was going to do next. My throat rasped with thirst and the heat. I didn't have much time left to complete the quest. And I still had to get the fish!
How on earth were the neuroimplant developers going to attract billions of users with their contraption? Who would want to experience real pain in game, suffering heat, thirst and exhaustion, hungry and uncomfortable in clumsy clothes and unmanageable armor?
And what about skills? Was I supposed to spend the next few months in training before I could come back here and smoke a couple of dragonflies?
This was crazy. No one was going to agree to this, let alone pay money for it.
Or could the problem be in my being the first? Was I their guinea pig allowing them to fine-tune their range of potential experiences?
* * *
Stubbornness got the better of me. I wasn't going to leave here empty-handed, period.
I gingerly approached the edge of the opening. I'd learned the grasshopper's lesson well. I was only going to use simple movements. Attack, dodge, recoil. I had to accept the fact that I wasn't some wonder warrior.
I kept a close eye on the mobs. I had about fifty feet to cover to get to the ruins overgrown with dog rose. Halfway to it, I would have to cross the aggro zone of three wasps busy buzzing around some purple-leaf plant unknown to me covered in pink blossoms.
Halfway to the wasps, I could make out some decayed remains lying in the grass: a small bundle of faded clothing gleaming with metal inlays.
How weird. If this was some hapless player, why hadn't he done his corpse run?
I'd have to look into it later.
I peered at the mobs. The longer I focused on them, the more details my mind expander received. Strange. I didn't even know what this device looked like. Was it a separate implant or just part of the neuroimplant itself?
A Wasp. Level 3.
Life, 30/30
Physical attack damage, 10
Additional damage: Venom, 5. Effect: Weakness. Duration: 5 sec. The target affected by the Wasp's neurotoxins can't deal critical damage and slows down, using 25% more Energy for every performed movement. The attacks' effect is cumulative.
Their size was quite intimidating. Their wingspan alone was a good couple of feet.
I might have to aggro them one by one. I just hoped they weren't a pack. The only way to find that out was in action. I had to risk it.
One of the wasps fluttered closer to the edge of the opening. Good.
I sprang out of my hiding place. The wasp saw me and went for me, buzzing. The others stayed put — excellent!
I ran back to safety.
Covering myself with the shield, I stopped at the opening's edge. The wasp had a peculiar way of attacking: it accelerated into some kind of insect cannonball. Now I knew: it was going to first knock me off my feet, then sting me.
Admittedly, I felt anxious. My body froze. It had been a while since I sensed something like this.
I dodged aside, my face barely avoiding an impact with the wasp's tough wings. Just as I'd expected, the wasp found itself in the thick of the undergrowth where it had little space to bank into a sharp turn.
I hacked at its wing, damaging it, and promptly sprang back.
The wasp spun in place, its smooth sharp stinger shaking in synch with the creature's muscle contractions.
Finally it ran out of steam and landed spread-eagled on the ground. I ran up close and took a swing with my sword, chopping through the fine link that connected the wasp's head to its thorax.
You've dealt a critical hit!
I crouched, catching my breath. Not enough to make level 5 yet. Never mind. I was pretty sure I'd make it today — and then I'd be able to finally check out the Neuro's mysterious development branch.
The wasp dropped a Stinger, a Venom Gland and a Small Chitin Plate.
I studied my loot. Chitin was good for armor making. The stinger could make a nice arrowhead. And the venom gland... it deserved looking into.
Venom Gland. Contains a dose of neurotoxin, dealing additional recurring damage. Effects: Weakness, Paralysis. The amount of damage and the duration of the effects depend upon the target's resistance. Does not affect undead species, elementals or golems.
Oh wow. If I put some venom on an arrowhead or my sword blade, potential opponents wouldn't be happy! Still, it wasn't without its drawbacks. Firstly, a wasp didn't have much toxin: a couple of drops at most. Secondly, I had to apply it to my weapons beforehand as I wouldn't be able to do so in the heat of battle.
I placed the precious loot into my inventory.
Time was pressing. It was already early afternoon and I hadn't even farmed the herbs yet.
* * *
I spent the next hour fighting the wasps. I managed to lure them one by one to my hiding place by the nut trees and smoke them all. They'd only managed to deal me two bites with their mandibles. Most importantly, I'd escaped their toxic stings.
My jacket sleeve had been sliced to shreds, my left arm a bit tender. But most unfortunately, the Mysterious Sword's durability had dropped to critical levels. It might not survive another fight.
I only had the dragonfly left to kill. It was rushing overhead so fast I could barely keep an eye on it.
A Large Green Dragonfly. Level, 2.
No matter how hard I tried to keep the crazy beast in my focus, I hadn't received any additional intel.
Could I be lucky, for a change? NPCs could be non-aggressive, like rabbits or deer who didn't aggro you at all until you actually attacked them.
Having said that... what was wrong with me? This wasn't the era of oral tradition, thank God! I opened the wiki and searched for it.
I'd been right. In the Crystal Sphere, dragonflies were non-aggressive. They were in fact a valuable resource: their wings were used in Alchemy to make levitation potions. Only two dragonfly species were listed as aggressive but those lived deep in the dungeons of the undead and were quite conspicuous, looking like scaled-down copies of bone dragons.
So basically, the place was clear of mobs. I could go through.
Impatient as I was to get to the ruins, collect the herbs and hurry back through the forest to the pond (where with any luck the party was already over), I couldn't just walk past those remains. They begged to be checked out.
Judging by the cloth armor, the dead player must have been a wizard. Then again... I made a mental calculation. Even at the lowest levels, an ice arrow or a fireball can strip one's enemy of 10 HP. It just didn't sum up. No caster in his sane mind would start a hand-to-hand with mobs. Why would he if he could smoke them from a safe distance?
My cheek began to twitch. It was only my second day in the game and already the pressure had begun to show. No wonder, with their authenticity levels.
I had no choice. I pulled out the Mysterious Sword and squeezed the contents of the three venom glands onto the blade. I smeared it around with a twig, making sure the venom covered the blade evenly. Had it been a mistake reducing Enea's suggestion of help to a joke? Now of all times I could use a battle wizard to cover my back.
Never mind. Let's do it! Having completed my preparations, I stepped over the last wasp's body and headed for the suspicious heap of rain-damaged, sun-bleached rags.
* * *
The sun was blazing, nice and hot. The dragonfly zigzagged overhead. I was bursting with energy.
A heat haze hovered over the ruins. I could see a collapsed doorway and beyond it, some charred ceiling beams and a lone ladder leaned against a wall.
When I reached the center of the opening, I came across a round area covered in withered old grass. This must have been where the wizard had met his fate. Not a single new blade of grass grew there. I'd love to know why.
I crouched and pulled at the end of the threadbare rags. Jesus Christ almighty! The once-expensive robes slid aside, revealing yellowed bones underneath.
Aha. This must have been the clue to a new plot line! When players die, they leave no skeletons behind.
No prompts available. I studied the items without touching anything else. First, a belt with a silver buckle and several quick access slots. Inside them were ten tightly closed vials: three containing Life elixir, three more of mana and four completely unknown to me, their seal wax marked with symbols I couldn't identify.
Now, the staff. It was made of a whole tree root complete with part of the trunk. A simple carved pattern ran along it. The knob of the staff was formed by intertwined roots serving as a setting for a faceted crystal. Much to my disappointment, the stone proved to be cracked.
The Staff of Illusion
Two-handed weapon
Crushing damage, 30
Charges left, 0/20
Durability, 10/250
Requires: Level 7, Intellect, 10
Oh. I was wrong. This hadn't been a wizard but a sorcerer.
I was surprised by the low requirements. Normally, illusion casting only opened at level 50. I could still remember how Christa had been leveling up, desperate to acquire this particular kind of magic.
A good, capacious leather bag with a long strap lay amid the rags, the kind one normally wears over one's shoulder. Its silver buckles had turned black. These remains must have been lying here for years.
You shouldn't touch it. You might regret it, my inner voice of Caution advised, always ready to support her sister Intuition.
It's true that we only tend to listen to the voice of reason after the fact. No player would walk past unclaimed goodies. If I couldn't use them, I could always sell them. Besides, I was just plain curious.
As soon as I reached out for the bag, the bushes on one side stirred. A triangular green head poked out of the foliage.
My interface flashed red, indicating the mob's high danger levels.
A Praying Mantis. Level 5
The creature's enormous faceted eyes had no pupils. I just couldn't tell what it was looking at. Had it already noticed me?
A rustling sound behind my back made me swing round.
A Praying Mantis. Level 5.
And a third one! This one was prancing in a combat stance with its front legs waving, prepared to attack. I could clearly see the spikes which mantises pierce their prey with once they've struck; they then hold it down with their spiky legs while devouring it. I'd actually witnessed it myself once. Not nice.
I grabbed the bag and the belt and darted for the ruins.
Apparently, the mobs hadn't expected that. I doubted they'd been posted there to guard the wizard's remains. Most likely, they simply found this glade a good place to hunt newbs.
I barged through the dog rose bushes and found myself inside a square structure built with massive blocks of stone blackened by an old fire.
The charred stumps of ceiling beams hung threateningly overhead. The structure had no windows, only arrowslits. The ladder I'd noticed earlier led upstairs. No idea who might have brought it here. Still, it looked solid enough.
Insect wings chattered behind me. One of the mantises sat on the broken wall of the second floor raising clouds of dust, its shadow blotting out the fine sunrays seeking out the gaps between the beams. The creature's triangular head poked through the opening, its antennae twitching. It had noticed me but the opening was too narrow for it to get at me.
Which actually wasn't a problem from a mantis' point of view. Its front claws sank deep into the beam like two serrated sickles, showering me with bits of rotten wood.
Another mantis tried to get to me through a narrow arrowslit. The third one awaited in the doorway. It stood sideways, protecting its head, so all I could see was a sturdy top wing streaked with a veined pattern.
The mobs' actions were well-choreographed. Definitely a pack. And each of them was a whole level above me!
The two realities merged, dissolving into each other. My blood was boiling with adrenaline. My self-preservation instincts had kicked in which wasn't normal for phantom virtual worlds. I was shaking, my nerves like taut strings. My foggy head was ringing.
If I did it now, I could survive in the future as well. But if I broke down, allowing the throat-seizing fear of physical pain to take over me... then I was finished.
My shivering didn't subside. Once again the mantis' leg probed through the arrowslit. My sword reeked with venom. Covering myself with the shield, I crept closer and hacked at its leg as hard as I could. I barely stayed on my feet as the sword went through the chitinous limb with unexpected ease.
The mob squealed. My sword blade glowed with a fiery flourish in a language I didn't know.
A long screeching sound came from above. The mantis on the roof had managed to claw its way through the rotten beams, one of which gave way with a crack. The creature fell right through, knocking the ladder down and crushing a couple of empty crates, sending up clouds of dust.
I barely had time to swing round and parry the blow. The mob's front legs ended in sharp claw-like spikes which it now used to break up my shield with ease, snapping it in two. My left arm went numb. I shrank back to the wall.
The mantis assumed its signature combat stance rocking in place, its front legs raised high in the air. It was about to launch another strike.
My left arm hung listlessly, the fragments of my broken shield still attached to its strap. My Fury counter went off the scale, literally, as a crimson haze clouded my vision.
All my sensations were more than real. My body, smarting from the impact, began to tingle as if I were hooked up to a battery. This felt very similar to what I'd already experienced back in the underground tunnels.
The thought dwindled to nothing like water spilt onto desert sand. The mob approached me sideways, offering its hard top wing to my attack, its triangular head focused on me. It wasn't in a hurry, scurrying confidently toward me on its four hind legs while keeping the two front ones high in the air, ready to lunge at me.
The creature's only weak spot was its segmented belly. I could see it pulsing. The chitin plates protecting it had small gaps between them — just wide enough for my sword to penetrate.
The tingling stopped. Now I could clearly sense energy coursing through myself. Its source seemed to be located underground: could there be a cellar underneath these ruins?
The symbols covering my sword blade kept glowing weakly. Another mystery.
The mob attacked me first. I'd been waiting for it, watching its every slightest motion in tense apprehension, and still I failed to react in time. The mantis sliced through my armor in an almost imperceptible motion, ripping across it from my left shoulder to the stomach. My body exploded in agony, splashing my face with hot sticky blood.
As I collapsed, I twice managed to bury my sword in its belly.
* * *
The stone floor was cold against my cheek. Something heavy pressed onto me from above.
My body throbbed with pain. I couldn't feel my left arm at all. System messages flashed across my blurred vision but I was unable to focus enough to read them. I could just about concentrate on one thought alone. Groaning, I reached for my belt and pulled out a vial with shaking fingers. I bit through the sealing wax. The content of the vial was tart on my lips.
I gulped it down greedily, choking.
