The Battle (9 page)

The little man nodded with respect and held the communications artifact to his face again. Within a minute, it became easier to breathe inside the castle. The astral pressure grew noticeably lighter.

The further we went, the more high-level sentries I saw. Here, the groups guarding the intersections each included a pair of assault golems. There were scores of high-tech barriers: bars, three-foot-thick pressurized doors studded with gun slots, pillboxes as well as barrels of flammable alchemic substances and poisons.

The holes in the ceiling, the dark cracks in the walls, and the slightly shifting floor tiles all promised many surprises.

Whoever’d dare attack this place was in for a blood bath... And for a level loss, considering the huge amounts of hired NPCs.

Finally, the zigzagging corridor led us to an octagonal hall. There was a mithril door in one of its walls, considerately covered by a protective force field. The shapes of massive assault golems stood motionless in the corners, their spinal contacts pressed against the gold mana circuits.

A mighty orc towered in the middle of the hall, three trembling female figures around him. The orc slowly turned around, making me pause.

His nostrils were torn, his eyes dull, his lips had been cut off with a dull, chipped blade. His shredded cheeks revealed his molars. His face was lumpy from the numerous scars.

Oh, Fallen One! Who on Earth had condemned themselves to this horror?!

The orc smiled crookedly as he approached me, opening his arms in a welcoming manner.

"Dear Tavor," he said, "where have you been? I got keyboard calluses trying to get in touch. How hard is it to shoot Uncle Ivan a few lines?"

His initially affectionate tone slowly turned into a threatening roar. My body reacted of its own accord; the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My upper lip twitched to reveal my fangs. Scowling, I stepped forward.

Noticing the changes, Ivan barked with laughter, whistling and wheezing through his various openings and cracks. Ruffling my hair with his mighty paw, he said affectionately,

"A real wolf pup! So, where’ve you been? Bumming around in the crypt, milkin’ the sleeping god, kickin’ some droid ass?"

Assuming a happy air and suppressing my trembling, I replied with a crooked smile, "Naw, just found me a hidden spot. An abandoned inquisition castle – your kinda place. Tons of great tools, from the Spanish boot to the Iron Maiden. I’ll add you to the group, let’s go over there and see. You’ll like it, I’m sure. But let’s hit the Control Room first. I need to change up those castle settings."

Sending him an invite, I quickly turned away from the frowning orc and headed for the door behind the curtain. Shivers of steel went down my spine. I could physically feel the orc’s distrustful gaze.

"Funny talk ya picked up," he said. "When did ya get ‘em new words?"

"In my twenty-nine years in the crypt. Which also gave me hemorrhoids."

The orc chuckled, "But why go to the Control Room? Did they cancel the control artifact?"

I bit my lip as I stood at the door like an idiot, staring helplessly at the colored combination lock.
Damn Tavor with his paranoia!

Searching the number pad for fingerprints or signs of wear, I answered slowly, "You know the artifact doesn’t get all the jobs done."

Failing to find any signs of what the code might be – like recent fingerprints or scratches on the keys – I put everything at stake. Stepping aside, I turned to Ivan. "You still got the code? Or you all out of absolute memory?"

The orc grinned and approached the door as he asked, "Finally made up yer mind to up the Nova to a Super Nova?"

I nodded. "It’s about time. It ain’t cheap, but it’s worth it."

Ivan drawled pensively, "Sure, sure..."

He then grabbed me sharply, his mighty paw digging into my throat, and lifted me off the floor. "No one knows the code ‘xcept you! The place’s been upgraded to a Super Nova by yer old man! Ya talk, move, and look like a stranger! Who the fuck are ya?!"

Jerking in panic, I hit the icons of my most badass skills and hooked the damn butcher on the jaw real good. His five-hundred-pound carcass made the floor shake.
Dig that?! That’s the 50-level difference coupled with a class advantage!
After all, I was a warrior and he was a cleric, albeit a perverted one.

But I hadn’t won yet. Ivan instantly jumped back up. Two scalpels dripping with poison flashed in his hands. It flashed through the air and I lost my right eye. The next instant, the second blade sunk into my left cheek.

The scowling orc pulled another set of scalpels from his forearm sheaths.

I glanced around helplessly. The girls crawled away in search of cover. The golems stood indifferently by the walls.

"Golems, get ‘im! Bite! Attack! Red alert! S.O.S! Help! Kill Ivan!"

I didn’t know which of the commands had worked, but the instant attack of the eight giants caught the orc by surprise. In a second he was buried underneath a pile of mithril bodies.

The orc’s feral sense of danger had prevented him from accepting the group invite. My plan to send him to the First Temple through a portal fell through. Of all the several transportation options, I had only the Inferno portal left. Good thing my clanmates and I had foreseen the possibility of such an outcome: I was being expected at both points.

I ran up to the pile of bodies, activating the spell. The portal opened. I threw two of the girls in. The third had climbed into a crack between two pillars and tried to kick me away.
Fuck you, sweetie!
I thought.

Ivan roared and fought like a bear with a pack of wolves. The room was filled with the sounds of metal being crushed and mana circuits popping as the golems’ handling mechanisms got ripped out.

Howling with pain, I forced my way into the mess, seized Ivan by the collar, and dragged him to the portal with much difficulty. My strained moans blended in with the chaotic noise. My vision blurred. It felt like I was hauling a whale by its tail.

At last, I felt my ass push through the portal film. I fell into the hot emptiness.

Hello, crimson Inferno sun!

Chapter Eight

T
he basalt tiles felt unwelcoming. Moaning and groaning, I dropped to the hard stone. The air was knocked out of me. My broken shoulder crunched as blood gushed out of the reopened wound.

Judging by the ear-choppers’ welcoming cries all around, I had the right address. All thanks to Asmodeus. He’d created that horridly expensive Portal Trap pentagram which distorted the coordinates of the nearby exit points and tied them to the Small Citadel.

My plans to build a powerful farm-raid service center in Inferno were nearing realization.

"Seize Ivan!" I wheezed as I turned around, trying to figure out how in the world hauling a pathetic five-hundred-pound orc had been so damn difficult given my outrageous 1500 points of Strength? "Oh fuck!"

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. No one had canceled the detention order, so I had actually been hauling a bunch of golems along with Ivan, weighing hell knows how many tons.

"Golems, at ease!"

The torturer, feeling that he was free, tried to make a run for it. But Asmodeus’ powerful arm stopped him. Lifting the orc up like a mischievous little kitten, the demon looked closely at his mutilated mug.

"What a specimen! A fine taste for enemies you got there. What do you plan to do with him?"

I turned over with a groan, nodding to the she-elves gratefully for rushing to help their leader. I pressed my hand to my throbbing shoulder wound squirting tiny fountains of blood.

"Dunno yet... Can’t take away a player’s freedom without messing up your own karma in AlterWorld. I’d send him to Lloth, but I fear they might understand each other... Quartering the bastard with my staff to turn him into a helpless stub ain’t a bad idea. But that would make me just like him. Except that I wouldn’t enjoy the process."

Asmodeus shook Ivan who was paralyzed with fear. It looked like the orc already knew whom he was dealing with and dangled in the air compliantly, looking around goggle-eyed.

The demon said admiringly, "The Inferno’s been craving him like a child craves sweets. I can send him to the Fiery Gehenna with little effort. Will probably get paid for it too, given his potential. And I’ll put in a good word for you, what do you say?"

I frowned. "Are we talking Hell here? The real one, not in AlterWorld?"

The demon gave an ambiguous nod. "Reality is whatever we believe in. But I guarantee you, you’ll never see this enemy again! Deal?"

"Deal!"

I just didn’t know what else to do with him. Yeah, I caught him, and now I needed something gruesomely radical. And I didn’t have an Ivan side in me to give me sadistic ideas, thanks very much for that!

Asmodeus exposed the black claw on his index finger like a cat. With a single motion he slashed the orc’s clothes off and turned Ivan's muscular back to himself.

The claw moved quickly over the bare skin, carving demonic runes and cauterizing them at the same time. Ivan wheezed and jerked, blood running in bubbles from his mouth as he had not the strength to cry out. His eyeballs turned into terrifying scarlet blobs, so many blood vessels had burst under the pressure.

Asmodeus looked upon his creation with delight, then sharply tossed the orc into the air and gave a clap.

With a bright flash, a portal appeared in the orc’s path as he fell. It was hot with magma. Ivan gave a sob of terror as he disappeared inside. The charred figure of a sinewy man hit the ground in his place.

I gasped.

The new arrival heard my gasp and turned to me, fixing his blind, baked eyes upon me. The black crust that was his face began to move, rumpling with a crunch, dripping with pus and turning into a disgusting mask. The hoarse voice whispered with irony,

"Hell’s all outta firewood? Gonna get chilly!"

"Who’s that?!" I looked at Asmodeus.

"An exchange... Or a thank-you gift. However you wanna look at it. He’s yours now!"

"Heal him!" I ordered the ear-choppers.

A few seconds of magic glow, and a strong naked man stood before us. He was well over forty, with cold piercing gray eyes. He gave a barely audible sigh of relief, then gazed at the crimson sun with a melancholy joy.

This was the first public nudity instance in AlterWorld.

The game labeled the new arrival as a level 30 Assassin. So he had been either a killer or a spy, and pretty advanced for a real-world guy. Each one of us had started out as a level 1 character.

"Give him some clothes to cover himself! Golems! You are to obey Laith! Asmodeus, please return me to my old body. I’m sick of this cesspool. I might dive into the john next time instead and come out much cleaner."

Butterfly started bustling about the newcomer with a predatory look. She measured his waist, chest, thighs...
Whore!

Despite his nerves of steel and assumed bravado, the former sinner was noticeably shaking. At the sight of the Archdemon, he made a move to cross himself, but stopped halfway. Probably because in Hell one’s forced to drop any such habits.

I threw off my bag and tensed up as I looked at Asmodeus in anticipation. This was the perfect chance for him to bunco me. My warriors grew anxious as they had been warned about such a scenario beforehand.

The demon smiled knowingly.
Who were we to try to outsmart a thousand-year-old being?

He snapped his fingers. I twisted in an orgasmic spasm: I was back in my own body! My soul sang, my astral projection getting comfortable inside its familiar container, and, oh, was the bliss of perfect health intoxicating!

"The deal’s done. Pay up!" Asmodeus held out his clawed hand.

Wiping the drool off my face, I doubled in a fit of dehydrated coughing. With delight I took a canteen of chilled
kvass
from my ear-choppers, downed half of it at once and exhaled blissfully. Noticing the sinner's thirsty gaze, I nodded understandingly and tossed him the canteen. His pointy Adam’s apple bobbed rapidly as he drank, but his prudence overpowered his thirst, and he was careful to catch every single drop.

Asmodeus growled impatiently, so I reached for my bag. Of all possible creatures, an archdemon is not the one to be annoyed. That could lead to a very unhappy ending.

Pulling out the precious necklace, I handed it over to him. "I hereby confirm the fulfillment of all terms and full payment. The deal’s closed."

Asmodeus indicated his satisfaction with a nod as he admired the precious stones. The blood of an ancient god was insanely valuable for a demon. Not as regular gear, but rather as a ritual ingredient.

The sound of bare footsteps came from nearby. I turned and saw the sinner who’d already put on some pants. With a bow, he said, still stammering a bit:

"Allow me to introduce myself: Egor Anisimovich Matveev. Second Guild merchant with absolute memory. I will pray for you for eternity."

Asmodeus grinned ironically and shook his head.

I frowned. "And for real?"

The so-called merchant’s cheek twitched:

"My bad, Your Excellency! County secretary for the second department of the Governing Senate."

Noticing Asmodeus’ reaction, I spat in irritation, "Look, Egor, or whatever your name is: get the hell outta here! The last thing I need is lying sinners! Whatcha batting your eyelashes for like a girl? You’re neither a slave nor a prisoner. A free man. You have both legs, and the gate’s that way. So off you go."

Having no further interest in this shady type, I turned to the ear-choppers. "You’ve done good, girls! Butterfly! Take care of this lady singer and the pretty missy here. Calm them down if you can. But don’t hit them! I’ll take them to the Rehabilitation Center when I go to the First Temple later. They have a few new open spots there."

The sound of someone clearing their throat made me turn around. The sinner wasn’t about to repent. His gaze was cold and calm, his voice emotionless.

"Once again, I apologize, sirs. I didn’t fully comprehend the situation I was in. That’s what happens when you’re in the Fiery Gehenna for too long."

His composure impressed me. He was an intriguing and unique case. But his strong and independent character prevented me from getting the most out of the situation.

I forced my feudal traits to life. The aura of the
First after the Fallen One
pressed down on the scene with insane force. My invisible power hung over all those present.

The ear-choppers squealed ecstatically. Asmodeus wrinkled his nose and backed up a little. The sinner, impressed, gave a real bow this time.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Egor Anisimovich Matveev. I am the court counselor of Her Majesty Catherine the Great’s Secret Expedition!" Egor looked hard at my face, studying my expression as he said this.

I cast a helpless look at the ear-chopper captain standing next to me. He only shrugged. I could have used the Analyst right then with his encyclopedic knowledge.

Noticing our confusion, the sinner grew noticeably relaxed for some reason. He tried to decipher the long-forgotten terms, "A councilor of State of the seventh rank is a nobleman by birth. Same rights as those of a guard captain, or a lieutenant colonel of the infantry. One and a half thousand rubles yearly salary."

I shook my head. "There is something merchant-like about you... Forget all those ranks and rights. Do you have any idea how long you’ve been in Hell?"

"
Hell
has no time..."

Struggling to remember, I rounded to the nearest hundred, "Almost three centuries."

The medieval KGB agent went white. His legs gave way, and he sat down on the red-hot yard tiles. Covering his face with shaking hands, he whispered quietly,

"How can this be? Martha, Anastasia, my youngest, Alex... I went on because of them, drew strength from holy icons, dreamt of staying sane and coming back to them!"

Kneeling next to him, I held his hands in mine. "Egor, you’re in a different world, in a different time. Everything’s different here. Although... who knows. Asmodeus here’s an expert on Hell. And I personally know where the stairway to the Seventh Heaven is, with its notably aggressive Angels and Seraphims. You might see your family yet. Go to Rehab, take a rest, figure things out. Then we can talk and find something for you to do here if that’s what you want."

My squad captain raised his helmet and pulled on his gorgeous bangs as he cried, "Are all sinners doomed to an eternity in the Fiery Gehenna?"

Asmodeus shrugged indifferently. "Every man gets what he believes in."

The captain took heart. "Then we shall strive for something neutral, with a gentle postmortal state. With parties and houris..."

I straightened him out, reminding of our clan’s policy, "You'd better believe in the Fallen One! There is no death there!"

Then turned to Egor again, "What brought you to Hell?"

He shrugged indifferently. "Sinning."

My private message window shook with a deafening distress call. I jumped in surprise, getting a bad feeling. Very few clanmates could activate the
three zeroes
alert, and only when they were in deep shit.

I instantly answered the voice call. "Yes?"

"Sir, this is Orcus. We’ve got problems. The Lightsies started early. They hit on every front! We need you here!"

"Understood. Be there in a minute!"

Good thing I had assumed my feudal air. It does not befit a warlord to wear signs of worry on his stern face for all of his subordinates to see.

I turned to the demon. "Asmodeus, the big game’s begun! The lightfucks went all out. Time for some serious ass kicking. I’m taking the she-elves. Get your army ready. You might need it any second. Sorry, the parade’s off for now. Or we can replace it with a victory parade, with the standards of the defeated clans flung into the sacrificial pentagram."

Asmodeus licked his lips savagely. "Even better. Hey, why dontcha take Lightfighter and two hundred elite troops from the Silver Legion with you? You need help, and they could use a break from their slumber, get some fresh blood, get their batteries recharged."

I was grateful. Level 300 demons would be a big plus for the clan in battle.

But then Asmodeus helped me back down to Earth by showing his true self and knocking off the benefits, "Just don’t forget to equip them. I saved some lettuce by counting on looted silver and hiring warriors bare-assed. Of course, their claws and fangs put steel to shame, but this isn’t the First Rebellion Era. Can’t fight without armor!"

What a crafty motherfucker! Fortunately some of the Legion’s gear had already been made, plus there were extras in the clan’s arsenal. Certainly not the best match for their levels, but it was all I could think of.

The next five minutes of preparation were accompanied by a rapidly growing hysteria in both the chat and PMs. The allies were going nuts. Even the Russian cluster’s social log was boiling: the "Just Cause" defenders brutally massacred the darkside youth in all newbie locations. Their battle units had appeared in hundreds of places simultaneously and started bloody genocides. This stopped virtually all the young ones from leveling up.