Chapter 6

  Social quests are considered a waste of time by some, but those people are idiots. In a virtual world where many large corporations have overlapping interests, a player with connections can be quite valuable. Daria had enough foresight to be among the first—replicating her achievements today would be damn near impossible. The demand is just way too high. So, all things considered, her skeptical attitude towards my gaming lifestyle was well grounded, and yet...

  "You... you were at the match?" I ask, still dazed. "But how? You've never even—"

  "At some point a girl ought to take an interest in the affairs of her man, no?" Daria replies with a honeyed smile. As if I wasn't shocked enough...

  Her man? She has never called me that before. Until today we were just dating, but now... Is she asking me to take our relationship further? Am I ready to? I don't know. Although...

  "It was the dagger I got just before the match," I say hastily, trying to keep my voice steady and hide the inner struggle from the young woman sitting across from me. "The team manager managed to get an epic scalable somewhere."

  "Oh, quit it with the humble act! You were the better fighter!" Daria furrows her brow with feigned menace, then smiles. "But I do like it when you're embarrassed. I'm proud of you, really. It's just that..."

  A shade of guilt flickers across her face as she sighs and lowers her eyes.

  "What?!" I ask, slightly exasperated from all these revelations.

  "Well, um..." she goes on quietly. "There have been some changes in my life. I can't come over today, I'm sorry!"

  "All right..."

  I pick up the bottle brought over by the waiter, pour the wine and clink my glass with hers.

  "To you."

  We drink, then I set the glass back down and move on to my plate in silence, my mood suddenly sour. Is she trying to break up? Creating drama for drama's sake? It's cruel and unnecessary, but I've been through worse, so I'll survive.

  "You're not even going to ask me?" Daria inquires after a minute of silence, her voice carrying strange notes. "You're just going to sit there, silent?"

  "Better to keep mum and appear stupid than open your mouth and remove all doubt," I shrug without looking up at her. "Besides, what do you expect me to say?"

  "I don't even know how you communicate with your rogue buddies, since all of your emotions are written clearly on your face," Daria continues in the same tone. "But do you think you could stop pouting for a minute so we could walk?"

  "My rogue buddies are a game, I've never been close with any of them," I explain calmly, putting away the utensils and folding my arms in front of me. "You want to talk? All right, let's talk."

  "You really are a strange bird," Daria shakes her head, sighs, then takes a sip from her glass and suddenly smiles.

  "Let it be known that you are looking at a lesser priestess of Lolth herself!" she proclaims with solemnity. "The Statue's choice fell on me yesterday! Do you understand now? I cannot come over tonight because my first service at the Temple is in two hours. So, if you can wait till tomorrow evening, I'm all yours!"

  Daria's eyes are alight with dancing imps. And I feel like a total jackass.

  Women are my weak spot. Perhaps my only weak spot. I don't do well with breakups, and that is probably why I'm always on my guard, trying to keep some distance so that if does happen, the pain won't be quite so bad. But that cannot excuse my foolish and immature behavior. So this is why she was here fifteen minutes early—to spend them with me! And I totally misread that, like a chump. Better learn from this...

  "I... I thought that you... I'm sorry," I spread my arms guiltily. "Congrats on the promotion, Dar! I know what a big deal it is."

  "Save your pleading for tomorrow night, lower one!" the young woman feigns an indignant frown, fingering me accusingly. "Let it further be known that in light of my ascension I have been automatically adopted by the Elder House Klahd, which means I can now take up tier five quests! I also have my own private room in the Temple, in the south wing of the priestess quarters. And after the Spring patch, there'll be a whole new quest chain to become a full-fledged priestess! I trust now you realize the honor that's been bestowed upon you? The favor of a noble daughter of an Elder House is to be treasured!"

  "Yes, mistress," I speak with all the submissiveness I could muster, joining her game. Then I add, with my head humbly bent. "High Priestess EatMyShorts does have a ring to it!"

  "Bastard!" Daria gasps before chortling with laughter.

  "Why so harsh? I always liked your username."

  "Me, too," Daria nods, wiping a gleeful tear. "But I fear my sense of humor is lost on Matron Alessa. No, I'll still be Nessa. I don't see you changing your in-game nickname, either."

  True enough—it's easier to use the game moniker, as with certain social groups your reputation kicks in only when the "right" name is displayed overhead. In Daria's case, displaying her jokey nickname might even result in the temple guards denying her entry given that they report directly to the Council of Matrons and have no connection to the priestesses whatsoever. And though her fellow priestesses would surely recognize her, the sight of her would likely put them in shock. The same goes for me. The name "Kris Venom" was assigned to me back at level 30, along with the Master Assassin achievement, and I haven't used another one since.

  We go on to chat about this and that for another hour. Daria shares all the opportunities her promotion will open up, and I do the same. Time flows quickly, and when my girlfriend's phone chimes with a cab notification, it catches us by surprise. As Daria rushes to gather her things, I pay the check, and we head out into the bleak Moscow winter, hands clasped. Before getting in the car, Daria turns around, throws her arms around my neck, and presses her lips to mine.

  "See you tomorrow, Oleg," she pulls back, a sly smile playing on her lips.

  "See you tomorrow, princess."

  I watch the cab pull away, slide my hands into my pockets, and make for the underground with a smile of my own.

  Chapter 7

  If a gamer ever tells you that he's an early bird, rest assured that he's a damned liar. That's just a law of nature. Gamers are like vampires—their life doesn't fully begin until after sundown. And night owls on the whole are an obsessive breed. Regardless of what you're doing—reading a book, binge-watching a series, grinding through a dungeon or even working—the key is not being able to stop. Ergo, only a night owl can hope to become a real gamer!

  It's one in the afternoon Moscow time when I open my eyes. I get up, run through a simple routine of calisthenics, then grab some breakfast and slip into the game capsule. Vaedarr is on Paris time, which gives me another hour till the meeting at The Swan. The human capital is the most densely populated city in all of Arkon. Most players come here after reaching level 30 and getting their racial bonuses. Well, either here or to the orcish Kargalar. We're all human in our psyche, after all, and few among us truly enjoy dwelling in dank caves or swinging up in the tree tops. I for one didn't think twice about leaving Anthrum for Vaedarr, and I haven't regretted it once. The sensation of looking up at billions of tons of bedrock day in and day out is unnerving, to say the least. Yes, I know very well that this is all a game and the bedrock is nothing but computer code, but the reptilian brain inside us doesn't give a damn. And I'm far from the only example. Sam and Lima fled the much more aesthetically pleasing Great Forest. She's a light elf, he's a dark elf, and with their races being at war, getting caught in each other's company in the Great Forest is fraught with reputation penalties. Not in Vaedarr, though. This is the land of the proletariat and internationalism. Nobody gives a damn about the length and shape of your ears—as long as you're not an orc. Although, it's not uncommon to run into some of our fanged brethren, either, as it only takes a few dozen reputation quests to start strolling around the human capital without fear of getting your head smashed in by a paladin hammer. The downside is that you become unfriendly with both races, and there's no getting around that.

  Once in my private room, I immediately activate the premium kit purchased yesterday, and open the chest that materializes in the center of the room. Then I cuss. Loudly and with gusto. What shit luck.

  I inspect the thin elongated item, just in case there's something unfamiliar about it. There isn't.

  Master Burglar's Lockpick

  Lockpick.

  No minimum level.

  Bind on pickup.

  Unique. Expendable.

  Has a 50% chance of disarming all magic traps on the target and opening the lock irrespective of its level and your Lockpicking skill.

  Attention! The item must be used within 30 days.

  Damn it! I'd toss this junk now if I could, but no dice. And I can't even dump it into storage! Oh well, at least it doesn't weigh much.

  On the subject of lockpicking, I must voice my displeasure with the way the mechanism works in the game. Lockpicks work like keys: you insert it and turn, and your Lockpicking skill determines whether or not the attempt is successful. Magic traps are disarmed fully by inexpensive scrolls, and given that in all my years in the game I've yet to stumble upon a lock higher than level 180, this junk is doubly worthless. Only a rogue can find a lockpick in a premium chest, and it's actually a statistically rare drop, but, sadly, that fact doesn't add any practical value. It's like having the key to the main safe in Fort Knox. Sure, you can open the thing, but how the hell are you supposed to get anywhere near the safe in the first place?

  Stashing the lockpick into inventory, I walk up to my personal vault, open it, and scratch my chin in contemplation. I need an outfit for the celebration, but I handed in my equipment to Mike yesterday. I do have another set that the manager gave me a while back for leveling. Eight armor pieces, three rings (plus one PvP ring that cannot be transferred to anyone), a charm, an earring and two kris blades. All of them of the uncommon class with a minimum level of 150.

  Making an appearance without my gear would be an utterly moronic move on my part. Infinite disguise afforded by a premium account is nice and all, but it's no panacea as certain NPCs can't be fooled by Persona. Moreover, wearing armor will give some additional survivability. Chances are I won't need it, and yet, I can't remember the last time I left my private room without it. Arkon devs were smart to allow all players to carry a set of civilian clothes on them, in addition to armor. Thus, after death you needn't run to your corpse in your underpants, or make a racket walking around with all that metal when inside city walls. Sets of clothes can be swapped in a moment, and your armor is automatically "activated" in case of an attack, just as your weapon instantly materializes in your hands. Of course, there are also fools so devoted to pacifism that they don't equip armor on principle. I'm not bothered by them, of course. If anything, I welcome their foolishness—especially if it comes with money.

  With my equipment on, I fasten the sheaths with my daggers to my waist, activate Persona, and walk out of the room into the hallway.

  A private room is quite the convenience. Whenever you open any residential quarters with a key, it becomes your private room. The key cannot be stolen, but acquired only via legitimate means, such as paying for a room at an inn, or accepted from the owner of a rented house. The key cannot be lost or discarded, vanishing from your inventory only when the rental period runs out. Thus, a million people can theoretically walk into the same exact room at an inn, and each one would end up in their own private room. Sort of like a game instance[21] on the smallest scale. As for exiting the room, you can do that in up to three different locations—on the condition that they're located no more than five miles from each other. All you need is to have paid for the rooms in each of those inns. This feature is especially handy for yours truly. I've lost count of my many victims, and some of them must be thirsting to settle the score—if only they could track me down. The game always displays the name of your killer at the moment of death, so many of them hop onto my stream right after and start talking trash. Some go further and try to find me, ambush me, even stalk me. Sadly—for them, at least—they only waste their time and add to their frustration. I never reveal my exits to my subscribers or share my plans. My operations are quick, as are my retreats. And if anything goes awry, I can always fall back on a five-hour disguise. The only way to crack Persona is with a special scroll or a direct attack. The former is expensive, and the latter is a surefire way to get your ass handed to you by the city guards in the case of mistaken identity.

  After disguising myself as a human with Persona, I shut the lid of the chest, and start down the hallway. Upon reaching the stairs, I descend, cut across the dining hall and exit onto the street. Once outside, I glance at the city wall towering over the rooftops, check the time on the clocktower, and make for the Heroes Square of Vaedarr. The Swan is situated just behind it, no more than twenty-five minutes on foot.

  Renting a room inside the city is kind of expensive—nearly twenty Euro converted to fiat money, and that's with the inn bordering the cheaper Industrial Fringes. But conveniences are conveniences for the exact reason they aren't free. You can save money staying outside the city, but then you'd waste a good chunk of time commuting and passing through customs. Unless you're a Master of Stealth, in which case you can slip past the guards undetected. The alternatives—schlepping through the catacombs beneath the city or wasting Persona at the entrance—are equally unattractive. Some might be lazy or foolish enough to prefer it, but I am neither of those things.

  The pale winter sun is already peeking out above the eastern wall, hanging over the main building of the Myrt temple complex. A pleasant breeze blows from the river, carrying scents of lavender and mint. Winter in Vaedarr is drastically different from Moscow. Here, snow falls only on the eve of the Christmas holidays—the rest of the time, the weather is mild and pretty stable, rarely dipping below sixty degrees. Rains become more frequent, but the chill factor is nowhere near as bad as it gets in Russia.

  Everywhere you look, merchants are hawking their wares, bells are tinkling around the necks of draft horses and oxen, wagons are grating and groaning, and players are scurrying about their business.

  The number of players will grow considerably closer to evening. Gambling dens and brothels will open up their doors most invitingly, and the downtown of Vaedarr will morph into a kind of fairytale Las Vegas.

  One might think that in this city a rogue should be making out like a bandit—pun intended—but, alas, entrance to such establishments is closed to the likes of me. I'd be made long before reaching the door, and no amount of stealth or disguise skills would help. Unless you're Bel, the God of Thieves, or someone from his inner circle, you're not getting in. And if you are, I doubt that you're enticed by the money, anyway. Besides, anyone holding truly serious coin invariably uses a special kind of purse that's immune to pickpocketing and doesn't drop off a corpse. It costs a pretty penny, but it's designed to keep all of your pretty pennies safe, so if you can afford one in the first place, you'd be a fool not to buy it.

  I wave away a street soothsayer, then skirt around a fruit stand... and come face to face with a stranger dressed as an air mage. Without hesitation the man throws out his hand, striking me in the chest with a lightning bolt. The system log conveniently informs me that I've been paralyzed.

  Chapter 8

  Damn it! Azure Dragons!

  A month ago, I ganked their precious Jin Ho, on a bet, and his lapdogs have had it out for me ever since. These Asians are vindictive bunch, and when you take down their top raid leader, they're likely to turn the whole city upside down to get their revenge. A top clan has virtually limitless capabilities, and I feel a sense of relief about handing in my gear to Mike.

  Then again, I'm not dead yet! The mage attacked right away, meaning he knew exactly who I was. Having just appeared from behind the corner, he must have been waiting there for the order. Was I being followed all the way from the inn? Crap! I need to spot the others right away! The fact that they didn't just kill me means they plan on restraining me and taking me somewhere private, to record or even stream the punishment for purposes of deterrence. As in, don't mess with us, cause if you do, this is what happens.

  A rogue in my predicament is going to automatically slip into invisibility ninety-nine times out of one hundred—to shed the debuff and access the situation. And that is precisely what they're expecting me to do. If I do, another control ability or spell will instantly follow, breaking stealth and leaving me out of options.

  A fraction of a second is enough for all these thoughts to pass through my head, and I decide to leave the Paralysis as is. So I keep standing there instead, staring at the dude who attacked me. Were a target to be paralyzed IRL, it would drop to the ground like lumber, but in the game the paralyzed target simply freezes, as if trapped in an invisible cube of ice.

  The attacking mage clearly didn't anticipate this turn of events, raising his hand automatically as he shouts, "Now!" The realization of his blunder comes too late—only after the pavement all around me lights up with illuminating arrows and a paladin breaks out of a nearby cluster of crates to hit me with a Stun.

  Geez, how embarrassing! Two flares and a control ability burned with nothing to show for it. These guys may be masters of dungeon crawling, but out here on the street they're hopeless noobs. All right, boys, let's play!

  I pop the ring to dispel the debuffs, hop over to the mage, interrupt his next cast with a Kick and stun him with a Kidney Shot. Then, without wasting a second, I use up the amassed combo points to Shadowstep behind some chick window-shopping about a hundred feet ahead.

 

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