Chapter Thirteen

“SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Droy asked, peering warily from behind a rock.

I opened the raid tab. The buffs would last another hour and a half.

“We might just make it,” I replied.

“We might,” Amai agreed, then added, “Can’t we just surround them?”

Surround them! I don’t think so, Comrade Shaman.

“If we break the formation, we’ll die,” Droy snapped.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Pike’s reaction. He gave an inconspicuous nod, as if agreeing with our Captain. He’d had plenty of time to witness the superiority of both our weapons and our formations.

Amai, however, pursed his lips, sulking.

What was wrong with him? I didn’t recognize him. What’s with all the mood swings? This wasn’t the focused level-headed leader he’d been before we’d entered the dungeon.

Didn’t he have enough casualties? The Wolves had already lost thirteen warriors. That was almost half of his group! And it’s only because at some point their brave leader had thought that sitting it out behind our tanks’ backs was losing face!

It had all happened too quickly. During one of the Rats’ attacks, the Wolves’ archers had suddenly showered them with arrows. Predictably, they’d aggroed the entire pack who’d then lunged on the virtually armorless Wolves.

As a result, they now had thirteen dead and another ten wounded.

Had it not been for his faithful giant of a bodyguard, Amai would have already joined his ancestors in a Caltean afterlife. True, he was a powerful shaman who’d helped us a lot on our way here. But he was such a dumbass sometimes. Worse than some stupid hyperactive teenager.

Or was he just trying to confront some inner problem of his? Hadn’t he told me that someone had called him a coward when he’d taken his clan out onto the steppes? It was very possible he was trying to make up for it. But thirteen bodies! And we’d asked them not to shoot without our permission, too! He must have gotten an adrenaline kick when he’d seen that the Rats were an easy kill and decided to show us that his Wolves were every bit as good as the Red Owls.

True, they may have been just as brave but as for the rest, the Wolves were a far cry from my warriors. The moment the Rats had gotten near them, they’d promptly taught them a lesson in humility. The sight of the Wolves’ mauled bodies was sickening. I didn’t even want to think about it.

Now Pike had managed to surprise me. I hadn’t expected that from him at all. I used to think he was a Caltean like any other, only a higher-level one, a perfect match for our Droy, Crym or Orman. But the moment his scimitars had begun to glow as he’d engaged in combat, my jaw dropped. He was much faster than any of the Rats, killing each one with a single well-aimed stroke.

What a shame I didn’t have enough Reputation with them to check their stats or the stats of their weapons. Pike was full of surprises. Never mind. I was sure I would get my answer, given some time.

The very last fight had proved to be the hardest. We had to gain access to the grotto’s last cave. The creatures were so numerous that several dozen of them had fought their way through our ranks. I thought this was the end of me but my men didn’t let me down.

With every fight, their experience kept growing — as did their Discipline. The importance of this little stat was hard to overstate. It affected virtually everything, especially the speed with which they fell in, as well as their synchronization and promptness in following orders. The Calteans fought as one man: a single wall of shields bristling with spears, hammers and poleaxes which barreled through the incoming enemy.

I didn’t envy the Rats. They’d lost about fifteen hundred. Unbelievable.

Their claws and teeth were the only loot they’d dropped. Nothing else. Actually, Weigner had told me about these types of dungeons: they mainly rewarded you with XP, allowing you to level up faster.

The thing is, when you’ve just started playing, the system showers you with new levels. But with every new level gained, your XP bar keeps growing — and once you make level 300, it becomes virtually infinite. High-level players go on evolved military campaigns against the strongest monsters in Mirror World hoping for a pittance of new XP.

So I had a reason to celebrate, really: I’d made level 140 already. But that was mainly due to the percentage I’d received for leading an NPC raid.

Happy? I was overjoyed! The only thing that ruined my good mood was the death of Amai’s men. We’d already gotten used to them, you see. They were our comrades in arms. The tunnel had brought us closer together, turning us into a proper team. If only Amai had stopped his nonsense...

I just hoped that Pike might reason with him before they lost all their warriors. We still had the dungeon boss and his army to tackle.

Because it looked like we’d finally arrived.

The main cave was absolutely enormous. A grotto? More like a spaceship hangar lying at our feet. It was at least eight by six hundred yards long and another couple of hundred yards high. You could park fifty Boeings in there, easy.

The shimmering moss allowed us to see everything below. The place was absolutely covered in terrace after terrace of handmade ledges shaped as honeycombs. What on earth might it be?

“That’s the biggest farm I’ve ever seen!” Crym whispered in admiration next to me.

“A farm?” I asked.

Droy nodded. “Of course. We call them mushroom nurseries. You liked the meat stew Orman made, remember?”

How could I ever forget? The stew had been delicious. Orman was an excellent cook, and I’d told him as much.

“Those were cave mushrooms,” Orman explained. “It’s a good job we stocked up on them before setting off on our journey. Do you remember who we bought them from? Was it the Axes or the Stone Fists?”

“It was us,” Crym confirmed with a dreamy smile. “It was an excellent year for them. We had one hell of a crop.”

With a wistful sigh, the Calteans nodded their agreement.

Suddenly I felt very sorry for them. They used to live happily raising their children and working their land. They’d had dreams, they’d made friends, they had gotten married; they’d even grown mushrooms. Then before they knew it, an enemy had taken it all away from them.

Not good.

“Did you have farms like this one?” I asked Crym.

He shook his head. “Not this big, no.”

“A crop like this could last the entire Caltean race at least three years,” Orman said. “I don’t think your ancestors used to go hungry, Olgerd.”

“Enough of your mushroom talk,” Droy grumbled. “First let’s do what we’ve come here for, then we can discuss it. So Olgerd, what do you think? How should we go about this monster?”

Good question. The Rat King lair was right at the very center of the cave. I could see him, sitting of a large rock surrounded by Guards.

Huge bastard. Even from where I was, I could clearly see his big teeth and long claws, with a level to match: 400. This would be a challenge.

And he was only half our problem. There were also his guards to tackle, about a hundred in total. They were much bigger than the Rats we’d smoked by the dozen earlier. All of them were level 350.

I checked the buffs. We still had just over an hour left. We should be able to make it.

“Now,” I said. “That one over there is their King.”

“You can see he’s strong,” Orman murmured respectfully.

“He is,” I agreed. “He’s been around the block a few times. And as you might have noticed, he’s not alone.”

Crym nodded. “That’s his retinue.”

“Yeah, sort of. They’re very strong too.”

“They’re better protected as well,” Shorve the Hasty said without taking his watchful gray eyes off the creatures scurrying around below. He raised a reluctant hand, pointing at the nearest mob, “Take a look at that one. Can you see the bone warts protecting his chest, back and belly? We need to tell the archers to aim better.”

“If they attack us all together, we won’t be able to keep the formation in shape,” Droy summed up grimly. “And if they surround us...”

“The tunnel’s walls give us an advantage,” I said. “Which means we need to take up defensive positions here and lure them out.”

“You’re right,” Droy agreed. “The tunnel’s walls are our allies. Besides, the Rats would first have to climb up here to get to us. That’ll give our archers plenty of opportunity to show what they can do.”

I looked up at Amai. His magic skills made him one of our strongest links — but his impatience also made him our weakest.

“Chief,” I said as amicably as I could, “I’m afraid we’ll need all of your magic skills. You’re our trump card in this battle. We all count on you.”

He stood up proud with his arms crossed.

Enough flattery. Time to get down to business. “But in order for us to use your magic gift more effectively, I have to ask you to move to the center of our formation. You and your archers.”

Amai was about to say something when Pike’s large hand lay on his shoulder.

“Nobody’s asking you to act like a coward,” Pike said once Amai turned to him. “This is only a ruse. You’re our weapon, one that’s important for us and deadly to the enemy. The City Keeper has a point. You’re our trump card. Besides, our warriors might do more good with their arrows than they did with their spears.”

“Very well,” Amai grumbled, obviously pissed by our decision. He shook Pike’s hand off his shoulder, swung round and walked, sulking, to take cover behind our tanks’ backs.

What an obstinate dumbass!

Pike cast a calm glance at me. He could probably read my face like an open book. And not only me: my sergeants’ faces, too, betrayed their true feelings.

“He won’t let you down,” Pike said. He didn’t sound as if he was trying to defend his student — no, his voice was cold and emotionless. Oh, well. Interesting.

“Good,” Droy nodded. “In that case, let’s begin. All we need to do is lure them out. And I think I know who’s gonna do it,” he looked at me with a cunning grin.

* * *

IN THE END, WE DIDN’T have to lure anyone out. The Rats sensed our presence.

“They’re a bit sluggish, don’t you think?” Orman said, watching the mobs unhurriedly moving toward us.

“They crawl like a tortoise on ice,” Crym agreed.

“Look at the size of them!” Shorve exclaimed in amazement once the wave of monsters was halfway upon us.

“They’re at least two heads above any of us,” Orman concluded, adding grimly. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

The mobs’ powerful bodies were covered in bone armor. Their speeds were low. These must have been the enemy’s tanks. Judging by the size of their teeth and claws, their damage numbers were nothing to sniff at.

I hurried to check our shields’ durability. It was less than half. Oh well. Had it not been for Lia’s drawings, we’d have been in real trouble.

They kept closing in, slowly but surely: nearly a hundred creatures level 350.

As they approached, I began to realize that our shield wall wasn’t going to hold them. And then... I dreaded to even think. I had to change tactics if I didn’t want to lose all of my warriors.

I even wondered if Amai had been right offering us to fight separately. Still, this moment of doubt was gone as soon as it came. We’d gain nothing by splitting up. We would die faster, that’s all.

“Lock shields!” Droy thundered. “Don’t let these stinkers break our ranks!”

Our eyes met. His gaze betrayed the same thoughts I’d just been entertaining. But it also glowed with hope: the hope that I just might come up with something.

Very well. Who was I to disappoint him? Time to play my trump cards.

“Droy!” I shouted, leaping into the saddle. “I’m going to distract them! You need lots of arrows! Loads! You need to shoot non-stop and very accurately!”

My Captain’s eyes cleared. His face dissolved in a predatory smile. “You heard him!” he barked.

In one long leap, Boris sprang over the heads of our tanks.

I turned to the Calteans busy checking their weapons. Heh! Whatever had happened to those reindeer herdsmen clad in animal furs? They were gone. I was facing a wall of warriors armed to the teeth, their eyes burning with enthusiasm and determination.

Suddenly I felt an urge to say something to them before the battle.

“Brothers!” I didn’t recognize my own voice brimming with strength and confidence. “You all know why we came here! Which one of you hadn’t dreamed of seeing the Forbidden City and its ancient dungeons? Which one of you hadn’t heard of their incredible riches? The tales of this place and its miracles were handed down from one generation of Calteans to the next! And now we’re here! No one has ever come as far as we just have! You’ve already covered your names in eternal glory! They will make ballads about our journey! Old men will tell your great-grandchildren stories about their ancestral valor! This dungeon is rightfully ours! All we need to do is smoke out these creatures and their sorry excuse for a king! Are you ready to have fun?”

An ear-shattering war cry echoed through the grotto. A forest of brandished swords, spears and battle axes rose over the crowd. Some warriors banged their shields with their weapons. Someone blew his bugle. Boris felt obliged to add his spine-chilling crow to the mayhem.

At that moment, we were quite capable of taking on the devil himself. Honestly speaking, I hadn’t expected this from myself at all.

I gave my army one last once-over, trying to think of something I might have overlooked. Twenty heavy soldiers blocked the cave entrance, with archers waiting behind their backs. Amai was already busy casting some magic. Let’s see if he could surprise us.

I’d taken only the best of our warriors on this raid. The clan’s elite. I’d done everything possible to protect and further empower them: the chainmail shirts, the helmets, the armor, greaves, swords, long spears and several thousand arrows and crossbow bolts. Our archers had the best bows and crossbows. Every single item was “green”.

This was the strongest army the Calteans had ever had — and thanks to our advance through the tunnel, also the highest-level one. I couldn’t see a single warrior under level 320.

And I was about to offer this little army to its first real enemy, a.k.a. the Rat King’s personal retinue.

“Are you ready?!” I bellowed.

“Yaaaaah!” the warriors roared.

“Don’t shoot until I tell you!” I warned them, then turned Boris toward the wave of approaching mobs.

They were running heavily toward us.

Less than two hundred feet away.

I could already hear the unpleasant sound of their claws scraping against the rock.

A hundred and fifty feet. Now I could see the bone warts covering their bodies in every detail.

A hundred feet. Their eyeless heads were tilted upwards, as if they were trying to sniff out their enemy. Drool dribbled down their angular jaws.

Eighty feet. I raised my hand. Behind me, the archers’ bows creaked. Arrows left quivers.

My warriors were ready.

My turn.