part0019

SERGEANT SURPRISED me. Honestly, I never expected my simpleton master to be so incredibly lucky. Or was it not luck, but ‘idiocy and bravery,’ as Grip had put it? What possessed him to mess with that river monster in the first place? I don’t get it…

Tick-Tock the massive crocodile caused a real furor in the village; everyone went to the bank to see the tamed monster, first in fear and ready to take off at any second, then examining the river beast with more confidence, touching its bony armor. The particularly fearless even put their heads in the predator’s open maw, climbed onto Tick-Tock’s back. The creeping crocodile stoically put up with the increased attention and showed no aggression.

Shame I slept through the taming of the monster. Before this, I’d spent half the night on the watchtower roof, casting spells at beasts and leveling up my Curse Magic, Mysticism and Stealth. Kind of boring work; my magic recovered slowly, so I spent most of the time just lying on the roof, warming myself from the heat of the burning fire wall, gazing at unfamiliar stars, listening to Pan’s grumbles.

Yep, the old man… talked to the night monsters! He complained to them of losing his connection to his loved ones in the last world, of not even knowing whether he had a grandson or granddaughter. He ranted about the bad hunts of recent days, the treacherous chimeric monkeys. He remembered Curly, one of his closest friends, who spent all his lives. They’d skidded off the road high up in the mountains and ended up here together. Pan himself was on his ninth life, his last. Jonathon Gripson and Max Dubovitsky forbade him from taking any risks or going hunting with the others now. The old man moped and complained to the beasts. He felt useless.

Finally, long after midnight, my little kitten reached level five and I went to sleep satisfied. By now, Whiskers’ Stealth was up at level four, Curse Magic was at five, and Mysticism was all the way up at level six. In spite of my unusual body and many limitations in the game, I thought myself a highly successful developing character. Certainly far more successful than that big oaf human. After squeezing myself through the workshop’s narrow window, I laid down in the straw. I watched my master as he talked in his sleep and I barely held back a grin.

So needless to say, waking up to excited cries praising my master all through the village, and then seeing a level six (!) Sergeant smiling from ear to ear next to his huge tame crocodile… It was like a cold shower. Don’t get me wrong; I was truly glad of the success of my ‘master,’ really just another version of myself. But now I had to prove, most of all to myself, that I was no worse than my other half, that I could achieve greatness too.

What use could a little lame cat be to the village otherwise..? And, most importantly, should I reveal my true nature, or was it best to continue to play the role of a dumb animal? Revealing myself wouldn’t be hard — I could just knock over a jug of water and write everything I wanted to say on the table with my paw. Was it worth doing, though? I racked my brains over these questions at breakfast.

Incidentally, the fish that Tick-Tock had caught turned out to be edible and even tasty. Sergeant was the first to try it. He declared that the eight-whiskered catfish tasted amazing. My master also wanted half of the already cooked fish ‘for training his crocodile.’ That was met with strong resistance from the other villagers; there was barely enough food in Pan’s Landing as it was. The people were usually hungry, and even starved for days sometimes when hunts failed. And now he wanted to give away a whole bag of tasty, crispy fish steaks to some crocodile?!

The resulting argument was decided by the village leaders — Grip and Dubovitsky. My master argued adamantly that if he could explain to the creeping crocodile that he could catch a fish, bring it to his master and trade it for the tasty roasted steaks he liked so much, then hunger would be a thing of the past; his pet would regularly bring in big fish. But to achieve that, Tick-Tock had to be trained and rewarded for obeying commands. All credit to him; Sergeant managed to convince the skeptics and push his idea through!

My master got what he wanted and went away to talk to his armored pet. I ate my fill and had more energy than ever. After much thought, I came to the conclusion that it was best not to reveal my human nature after all. I’d never get away from sympathetic sideways glances and obviously false words of condolence, and people would avoid me. People liked kittens, and they didn’t mind if kittens overheard them, so I knew the mood in Pan’s Landing.

I burned with a desire to do something useful, and went to inspect my territory. First I checked the stock of planks and stones and tried to chase a nimble level 3 Ghost Mouse who lived there, but that was a tough job with my limping leg. Then I went to check on the new mother, who was resting in a separate room in Grip’s house. The happy mother had named her level 1 newborn girl Hope. When she saw me, the cute ginger cat, she asked Anna to let her hold me. The level 28 Healer objected at first, but then suddenly changed her mind. She picked me up and offered me to Rita.

“This is a good sign,” Rita said, stroking me. “I really hope my baby is going to be alright. I hope the new world is a good home for her.”

I read the skill description. Activating it spent Stamina Points over time, but soothed allies and quickly rid them of alarm, fear, apathy, fatalism and fatigue. Soothe sped up the regeneration of Stamina Points, Health Points, and… very interestingly… Mana Points! Leveling up skills increased the positive effect. Could come in handy. Mana regeneration was a serious problem for me, and since I could get Mana Points from Stamina Points by converting them at a certain rate, then why not? I’ll take it!

Rita smiled happily, and even Anna stopped frowning and looked at the furry meowing kitten with watery-eyed tenderness. As for me, I was as disappointed as can be; the skill worked on people around me, but gave no buff at all to me. Damn! Damn! What now? Just be a living talisman to make these big dumbasses feel better?!

Only half an hour later was I able to slip from the grasp of the now calm and sleeping woman to continue my explorations. I walked the perimeter fence. I spent a long time watching Sergeant and Varya, sleep-deprived, yawning but refusing to rest, as they washed the swamp slime off the crocodile and endlessly pulled leaches and some other kind of sucking parasites off him. They also dressed an infected arrow wound on Tick-Tock’s neck, cut out the arrow itself with its serrated head and threw it away. The creeping crocodile made his displeasure clear, but he put up with it and let the humans heal him.

Max Dubovitsky sat nearby, keeping a watchful eye on his daughter as she and Sergeant worked and talked. A deliberately obvious watchful eye, it seemed to me. Although the Engineer frowned in displeasure, he didn’t intervene in the young humans’ chat. In any case, the boy and girl were behaving perfectly modestly. Not so much as a sign of flirtation. The strict father had no reason to stop them. Personally, this over-the-top protectiveness of his daughter surprised me; Varya was already a grown woman, and could decide for herself who to talk to.

I guess my influence was doing something. The Engineer steadily calmed down, stood up and went off to work the forge, no longer feeling his presence was necessary. The girl looked around, made sure her dad was definitely out of earshot. She bit her lip and asked:

“Sergeant, do you think two people could ride on your crocodile on the river?”

He vaguely shrugged, thought a little, formed a thorough response:

“Two people? I don’t know. One definitely can. You saw me trying to ride him in the lake. Tick-Tock already knows the ‘swim’ command and doesn’t throw off the rider. I guess a second rider could sit behind the first. Both would get soaked, though. Only the top of his back and his head stick out of the water when he swims…” my master suddenly stopped mid-sentence, widening his eyes in alarm. “Wait, why are you asking..?”

Varya glanced from side to side, but saw no villagers. She noticed me, but considered me harmless. Then she spoke in a conspiratorial whisper:

“I saw another crocodile just like Tick-Tock a mile or so downstream. A level 59 female. She lives on the sandbars. Let’s ride down there together? We could try to catch a second crocodile, this time for me!”

I stopped cleaning myself and froze, focusing on every word with wide eyes. Would Sergeant really agree to such an insane venture..? That was a guaranteed way to get kicked out of Pan’s Landing! Although… Knowing my own personality… I had no doubt that my master would agree. Firstly, I liked Varya, which meant that Sergeant did too. A chance to look courageous and dashing for her atop a river monster? Who would refuse? Secondly, he had a taste for glory and success now. Who wouldn’t want more?

And that’s exactly how it went. The young man scratched the back of his head.

“Alright, I’ll do it! But your dad will kill me when he finds out…”

“He won’t find out. We’ll leave separately. I’ll set off walking now. Ride Tick-Tock downstream in around half an hour. We’ll meet by the turn in the river, over there,” Varya pointed at a distant forest wreathed in mist on the bank. “If we don’t catch the crocodile, we’ll come back separately too. Nobody will know. But if we do catch it… Success is never blamed!”

Varya stood up and walked off. Sergeant watched her go for a while, thoughtful. Then he picked up his dark, swamp-marred gauze net attached to two crooked sticks. Tick-Tock the crocodile shifted with interest, crawled closer, but the human disappointed his pet:

“Sorry. This isn’t for you, buddy. But if we’re lucky, we might get you a bride.” Sergeant sighed heavily and, barely audibly, added: “And maybe me too…”

I continued my exploration of the village. I climbed onto the roof of the common house, then jumped onto the storehouse canopy, then through a half-open window into the Engineer’s house… and froze at what I saw! The floor was covered in wet rags, with the beans Sergeant brought sitting on them so they’d sprout. And across it all skittered a level 14 Saber-toothed Rat. It was eating the priceless seeds!

Hidden on the window sill as I was, the running rodent hadn’t seen me yet. I had to take advantage of that. Even though the beast was three times my level, I decided to attack. Weaken the enemy with a spell! Weaken again! Slow! Infect!

The black critter felt something was wrong. It stood up on its hind legs, looked around guardedly, twitched its bristly whiskers. My enemy still hadn’t seen me. A few tense seconds passed and the rat dropped back down to all four paws, continued eating the beans.

It was now or never! I decided to jump down and attack the rat from behind, right out of Stealth. I didn’t know about this world, but in most virtual worlds, a stealth attack was a critical hit and dealt increased damage. Only thing was…

My poor paw… I forgot all about my injury and carelessly tried to use both front legs to leap. As a consequence, I didn’t make it. I crashed to the floor a couple of feet from my foe. The Saber-toothed Rat instantly turned toward me, and met my second leap with an open mouth full of long, curved teeth. That hurt ! The rat easily sank its teeth into my skin and we gripped onto each other. What happened next is difficult to describe or to call meaningful action — we rolled around the floor in crazed flashes of fur, hissing, biting, tearing at each other with all eight of our sets of claws. At some point, I somehow managed to inflict the Bleeding debuff on the rat, although my strikes and bites barely damaged it. The situation was looking dire — my Health bar was dropping fast. I was sure I was about to die… But no!

Level-up! All my stats were fully restored! Now it was time to fight! Infect! Infect again! And again! I cast that spell over and over because I’d seen it working, steadily lowering the rat’s health bar. And another Weaken spell for good measure!

The rat lost all its pugnacity, tried to tear itself away from me and run. No dice! You’re not getting away! I dug my teeth and all my claws into the enemy. The rat got Bleeding again. The large black beast, twice my kitten’s size and probably six times its weight, started charging around the room, trying to shake me off. It somehow managed to bite and scratch me at the same time. We knocked into the table and upended some kitchenware, broke plates, knocked over a chair… My health bar was catastrophically low. Then, suddenly… it was all over! The noise had brought the huge Engineer running and he hit the Sabre-toothed Rat with a log!

I whined in pain with barely a whisker of health left — eight hit points out of ninety-six. Now I’d have to sleep and eat for a whole day to recover. But that didn’t matter. I’d completed my mission. I’d saved this strategically important supply of beans for humanity. Even if nobody knew about it but me.

Max Dubovitsky picked up the whining kitten by the scruff of its neck, examined it, shook his head.

“Dumbass. How can you be so careless? How’d you let a rat get the jump on you? If it weren’t for me, it would have eaten you! Anyway, you got off easy, not a scratch…” The Engineer turned and shouted out the open window: “Varya! Come here! You forgot to close the shutters again! That rat got back into the house!”

Nobody answered. Max Dubovitsky frowned in surprise and went outside, still carrying me by my scruff. He walked to the lake to where Varya and Sergeant had been talking. He shook his head, obviously suspecting something. He quickly walked to the opposite end of the village and questioned the Baker standing watch at the bridge, a bearded Asian called Ashot. He confirmed that the Engineer’s daughter went through the gates around twenty or thirty minutes ago.

“She was headed along the bank that way!” the man pointed at the distant sleepy forest some ways down the river.

“And did you happen to see where our newcomer with the crocodile got to?” the Engineer asked, his voice barely containing his fury and alarm.

“Sure I did. Sergeant went down the river on the back of his crocodile five minutes ago,” Ashot pointed again toward the faraway woods.

Max Dubovitsky’s frown deepened. He stated very sharply that (minus the unprintable words) Sergeant had made a big mistake, and he’d better never come back to Pan’s Landing.