The Final Trial, page 27
part #3 of Level Up Series
Therein lies the paradox. Humans have survived for eons thanks to pain. It has always been our best ally in our understanding of the world and our self-preservation. I cut myself with a knife — ouch! — OK, I guess I need to be careful with sharp objects.
Here, however, the pain, blood, wounds and spilling innards were just decoration, special effects, because fatal wounds didn’t just heal quickly, but lightning fast.
Even when Carter had lost half his skull in the last fight, he’d been restored within minutes in the shelter, and had he let the regeneration process run its course rather than come outside to my rescue, he’d still be alive. The seconds before Jovanna had showed up had decided everything in that fight.
After fighting to my heart’s content and dying twice, I, who’d previously read all the LitRPG book series nonstop, suddenly grasped that not a single sane person would fully immerse themselves in “tanking” in a game, just as no amount of authentic experience would drag normal people into full-immersion capsules if there were even a hint of pain there.
So I gave in to Ola’s pleas. We went to the shelter so we could rest up and hold the clan council I’d suggested. Maybe it wasn’t the best moment, but we decided that as soon as both of Pibellau’s suns began to rise, we’d set out toward the north to expand both our territory and our clan, provided we found other people with high social status. The moment was absolutely perfect. We needed to invest our hard-farmed resources in something, not stockpile them, and it was time to come up with a strategy.
We were sprawled in a little circle in the center of the shelter. Suspecting something, Jovanna and Ola looked at me intently, waiting to hear what I had to say.
“Guys, there are already three of us. Yesterday’s fight with Nagash,” I smirked at Ola’s embarrassment, “demonstrated that the clan leader can’t count only on himself. I’m not going to repeat that mistake. So here’s the first rule I’m giving you: clan members all level up at the same time in the order they joined the clan. Two: We’re going to maintain a balance in the clan's development. There will be no imbalance or one-sided leveling. We’re going to develop ourselves, the units and the bases, making the main base our priority. As we already have 36 hexagons, trying to level up each base is a waste of resources. That kind of expenditure can pay off in the long term, but we don’t have long-term prospects. Does anyone object to anything I just said? Jo?”
“Everything’s clear and I agree with everything,” she answered, sounding like a straight-A student.
“What about you, Ola? What do you say, Mr. Afelobu?”
“How am I supposed to know, Phil?” Ola spread his arms. “I was pulled into a clan on my very first day on Pibellau. I’d only had a chance to build my own base. I didn’t have enough resources for anything, not even the uniform module. I went out to hunt and advanced a couple of levels. Then Nagash’s units surrounded me. There were no undead yet. He himself was only level 4, but I was powerless against fifteen of his horrible units.”
“And you accepted his conditions. That makes sense. Then I’ll explain what I’m talking about.”
The clan council turned into a brief lecture about bases, modules, costs for upgrades and the ability to translate everything into figures.
“Anyway, we’ll always be faced with a choice,” I concluded. “We have around 7000 resources now. I say ‘around’ because a working unit contributes something every hour, and the bases generate resources. Level 1 bases generate at a rate of one point per hour, and the main base where we are right now, generates at a rate of 10 points per hour. So how can we invest the ones we collect? For 7500 we can bring the fighting unit module up to level 4. Then Tank, Rex and Croc will be level 7 killing machines, but we’ll still be vulnerable. We could invest everything in leveling up ourselves or spend a 1000 to create a little reconnaissance drone-”
“We need a reconnaissance drone,” Jovanna said. “There’s no question!”
“Yes, we can spare 1000,” Ola agreed. “It’s always better to know where you’re going.”
“Well then, let’s leave it at that. I’ll just go through the options so you understand what’s what. If you’ve ever played strategy games, you should understand that you can’t develop everything at once because you won't have enough resources, and at each concrete moment in time it’s better to follow the strategy. Our strategy will be that for each choice that comes up, we’ll assess the potential advantages of the expenditure and compare which one will give us more for less money… I mean, resources. And that-”
“OK, Phil, that’s fine with me,” Jo interrupted me. “So what exactly are you proposing now? How will we invest the 7000?”
“Here’s what I suggest. We always need to have a stockpile so we can quickly level up during a fight. That’s the only way to instantly heal all our wounds and avoid death. Jo, you need 600 for level 6. Ola, you need 500. That’s a total of 1100. I’ll need almost as many. So I’ll set aside 2200 or 2300 as a stash we won’t touch.”
“Don’t you need exactly 1000 points for level 10?” Ola asked.
“Even less, actually. I have a bonus for the preliminary selection. We’ll talk about that later. For 2500 resource points we can upgrade the base to level 3. That will give us some interesting modules — like research ones and — ta-da! — an artifact module. I don't know the details, but after we build them, I think we won’t regret it.”
“Can you give an example? What do we get out of them?”
“The artifact module generates artifacts. The research module improves the units’ stats, the productivity of the working units, armor, something else... That’s the idea, anyway.”
“But?”
“Ah, yes, there is a ‘but.’ For the base upgrade we need...”
“We get it, you need to be level 10,” Jovanna nodded. “So what are you waiting for? Level up!”
“Ola?”
“I’d be surprised if you were waiting for my opinion, Phil,” Ola said, shaking his head. “As my grandfather used to say-”
“It’s OK, I got it. In that case, I’ll buy level 10. After that and the base upgrade, subtracting the emergency stockpile, we’ll have around 1000 points left. Then we’ll need to make a decision: do we invest them in your level ups, create a reconnaissance drone or just build a research module? Think about it while I level up.”
I pulled up my stats:
Phil, human.
Level: 9.
Class: undetermined. Required level: 10 needed.
Health points: 2600/2600.
Damage without weapon: 23–27.
Chance of critical hit: 46.5%.
Bonus: 14% off the cost of character development.
Achievements: Altruist, First Giant Slayer, First Daredevil, First to Die.
Main characteristics
Strength — 25.
Agility — 11.
Intellect — 20.
Stamina — 26.
Perception — 21.
Charisma — 20.
Luck — 15.
Character stats
Lives: 1.
Captured hexagons: 50.
Ranking: 3/169.
Existence resources: 6983/9000.
I hadn’t looked at my stats in a long time. Third place in the overall ranking of all the test subjects meant that only Juma and Tafari were ahead of me. So my progress over the last four days since my second death hadn’t been too shabby.
I spent a few moments mentally reliving the events of the last few days, then tapped on the level up.
Congratulations, test subject! You’ve reached level 10!
You receive +2 Characteristic points to invest into any characteristics of your choice.
You may now level up the command center to level 3.
You may now receive a class specialization.
Put more fire under your enemies’ feet, test subject!
The system message wasn’t static. A line appeared under it, followed by yet another one:
Analyzing the test subject’s actions...
Number of compatible classes found... 2.
Observers’ vote...
Your class has been determined, test subject!
Put more fire under your enemies’ feet, Liquidator!
Chapter 16. An Easy Way to Become a Superhero
Barry Allen: What are your superpowers again?
Bruce Wayne: I’m rich.
— Justice League
AS THE RUSSIAN proverb goes, if you want to win the war, you need to work three times as hard. My Insight was exactly three levels higher than Konstantin Panchenko’s. So as he’d threatened me with his chopsticks and dribbled saliva, I already knew that he wasn’t a rival.
I still had Panchenko’s expanded profile open in front of me.
Konstantin Panchenko
Age: 27
Current status: commercial director
Social status level: 11
Class: Manipulator. Level: 6
Unmarried
Criminal record: yes
The last line gave me slightly more useful information, as did the new detail — or rather, details — of his biography that I hadn’t noticed before: namely, the list of all his crimes.
And what a list it was. In his 27 years, Panchenko had committed more than a thousand crimes. There were a lot of petty crimes like downloading pirated films from torrents, but there were also a couple of incidents that were meatier: he’d stolen newspapers and magazines from neighbors’ mailboxes when he was younger, and he’d stolen money from the wallet of someone I gathered was his friend. Some of those people had never found out; the friend had barely made ends meet until his next payday while the young Konstantin enjoyed the latest issue of Playboy.
When I filtered out all the similar items, all that was left were kickbacks. At least, they were mainly kickbacks.
It had started four years ago:
March 14, 2014.
Article 204 of the Russian Criminal Code: Bribery
Receipt of 5,000 rubles from citizen V. N. Stepantsov, an employee of Tesla Print, for cooperation in establishing an agreement with Rasmus Media to print media materials.
July 21, 2014.
Article 204 of the Russian Criminal Code: Bribery
Receipt of 12,000 rubles from citizen K. F. Ponomarenko, an employee of Northern Food and Beverage, for cooperation in establishing an agreement with Rasmus Media to organize a cocktail party for...
Evidently, the young Rasmus intern — Konstantin Panchenko — had been at first perfectly satisfied with small sums of money, and it was unlikely that he’d been entrusted with large accounts when the company was looking for contractors. A few years later, after he’d been transferred to the Samara branch where he’d immediately become PR director, he’d started to show what he could do. The kickbacks became more frequent as he obviously gained confidence.
The most recent incidents had occurred while he was at Ultrapak. How and why he’d fallen to the level of a small provincial commercial director was another matter entirely.
In short, even if I didn't know whether Mr. Ivanov was aware of Panchenko’s activities, he definitely would be.
But first I called Valiadis.
He answered immediately, as though he were waiting for a call. “Philip? Is this urgent?”
“I just have a couple of quick questions.”
“Shoot.”
“Number one: I met someone else who has an interface. Konstantin Panchenko. Tell me, how soon will he participate in the Trial?”
“I know him. Do you mind if I ask why you’re interested in him?”
“He’s making mischief, for me personally and people close to me.”
“Hm. No wonder. The version of his interface is different from yours,” Valiadis scoffed. “Is he making lots of mischief?”
“Not yet, he’s just stirred up the revenue officers and started a bunch of unpleasant rumors about me and my partners. But he said he was only just getting started.”
“Really? I’ll tell you then. His abduction is in less than two months. He’s going to be in the next wave. Can you sort him out yourself?”
“I’ll manage, thank you. I have some good news, though: my virtual assistant has managed to contact her replica in the Trial. Now she’s trying to get the information to the user.”
“For real?” I heard genuine happiness in Valiadis’ voice. “That’s great! Thank you for sharing that with me. I hope all of this isn’t for nothing.”
“We’ll get through, Mr. Valiadis.”
“We sure will. I’m now busy finalizing my things. If ever there’s a reason for us to meet up, I’ll explain why at that point. By the way, what's the name of your company?”
“The Great Job Recruitment Agency.”
“Got it. Good luck, Philip — both here and there!”
He hung up first before I had a chance to ask how to get in touch with Ilindi. I really wanted to tell her about the successful connection with Martha 2, but apparently now wasn't the time for that.
When I got back to the office, I spent a couple of hours finishing up with the job-seeking clients who’d arrived while I was out — both those who were waiting in line and those whose information the staff had already taken. I then retreated to my new office with a laptop, told everyone not to disturb me, and delved into the astonishing world of Konstantin Panchenko’s criminal life.
I created a separate file for each company where he’d worked and listed all the incidents he’d been involved in.
The message drilled into us by society from an early age is that you shouldn’t grass or snitch — but I ignored it because of its sheer absurdity. It’s exactly in this environment of cover-ups that thieves, criminals, loafers and domestic tyrants flourish. Wives are silent about their husbands’ battery, children are silent about cyberbullying, girls are silent about sexual assault, government employees are silent about corruption, while the people around them who are in the know cover everything up.
No idea what’s to blame here: whether it’s people’s fear of making fools of themselves, or their fear of the system which can’t be overturned by one person.
I had nothing to be afraid of. But as the co-owner of a business, I felt disgusted by the way Panchenko was cheating his bosses. It offended me to imagine having such a person working for me.
Six letters went out to six companies and organizations where Konstantin had managed to “work.” He’d worked for around a year in each place, ending with three months at Ultrapak. Finding the contact information of the owners and senior managers was easy, and I also posted my letters on social media.
“Philip, can I bother you for a minute?” Rose had opened the door slightly and was standing on the threshold.
“Yes, of course. What’s going on with the revenue officers?”
“Everything is in order. Basically it’s just a formality. I’m here to talk about Cyril. I gave him the money, but he’s handed in his resignation. Am I understanding correctly that this is the result of your... er... internal investigation?”
“Well… No, I’d afraid you got it all wrong. Cyril has late-stage pulmonary emphysema. He’s going to Moscow for treatment. The company is helping him out. Do you object?”
“Oh, come now, Philip!” Rose threw her hands up. “Of course I don’t. But still... in the future, please discuss things like this with your bookkeeper,” she said, smiling slyly. “At the very least, OK? I’m not talking about the partners, but that wouldn't be a bad idea either. We haven't yet grown enough to...” she said gently, admonishing me in a friendly way, but the complaint was valid. “We’re going to pay for Alik’s studies, and now Cyril’s treatment...”
“Very well, Mrs. Reznikova. I acted on impulse. In the future I promise not to make decisions like that on my own.”
“All righty then. That’s all I wanted to say.”
“Oh, and one more thing. Could you set his resignation letter aside, please? Don't process it yet.”
She nodded, carefully closed the door and left me alone.
I had now completed the first step in undermining Panchenko. If he didn’t get the message and didn’t repent on his own, I might have to adopt firmer measures. Especially where my former friend Cyril was concerned.
* * *
