Текст книги "The Clan"

Автор книги: D. Rus

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Chapter Eleven

 

I closed my eyelids to relieve the information overload. Then I got to thinking. A quick Wiki search had produced nothing: apparently, there could only be one First Priest whose post was currently occupied by a Light NPC. I hadn't found any further info on his rights and responsibilities, apart from the fact that he could appoint new priests, consecrate new temples to their respective patron gods, listen to an occasional plea and pass it on to the head of the Pantheon.

Now what would a high post like that have in store for me, then? Would it mean the forces of Light hunting down my precious hide? Having said that, sooner or later they were bound to find out the name of the person who'd restored the Temple. I had left quite a trail, starting from my unusual escort request and ending with Zena and her team who'd seen and heard their fair share and probably second-guessed a lot more. My relationship with the races of Light had apparently plummeted, too, reaching the levels of pure unadulterated hatred. I only had my mysterious quest reward, status: unknown, to thank for that. Actually, they should warn players about tricks like that. The only way back to the City of Light for me now was at the head of an army, ramming our way through the gates and razing the city walls to the ground. Considering that the ranks of my enemies and ill-wishers kept growing at a frightening speed, accepting the post sounded like a better alternative. For me, any gain of physical or political strength was the call of the day.

What else? Was the Fallen One going to burden me with nightly vigils, fasts and shaman dances around the altar? Why would he need to? He's a young god; he needed deeds and actions, not symbols and rituals. He could set you up with a quest or ask of you something you wouldn't be able to refuse. At least as far as gods went, he was all right. He wasn't a grabbing god, on the contrary: until now, he seemed to be the one who protected and nurtured us while he could have easily fixed us up with some vicious debuff you couldn't remove until you either prayed or paid your way out. No, AI 311 knew everything about motivation. I didn't think he was capable of any dirty tricks.

Now, the responsibilities overload could be a problem, sure. What was it Lena's mom had said? It was the retinue that made the king... Few kings were brilliant economists, generals or sociologists. They didn't need to be. As Comrade Stalin used to say, cadres are key. And for once he was right.

Responsibility, that's what scares us. All our lives we're trying to avoid it, wriggling our way out of school and college commitments, afraid of starting a family or business, unable to start a conversation with a girl or break an overeager bully's nose. Wasn't it time we stopped running?

Besides, the Fallen One had granted me one advance too many. And I had indeed promised him to help and restore the Pantheon. I gave my word to the Dragon, too. To quit now you had to be a thankless ingrate with no self-respect. Time to stand up for one's principles.

I opened my eyes, bit my lower lip and exhaled, pressing the button:

Yes.

 

Congratulations! You have been successfully promoted to a unique post: The First Priest.

Being the First Priest, you are entitled to additional skills granted to your position as well as those granted by the High God of your religion and from each of the Pantheon gods. Unlike the Fallen One's regular worshippers who are required to choose a particular patron god of the Dark, the First Priest has default access to all of the Pantheon's skills and blessings. The number of available skills depends on the First Priest's level which is always equal to that of the First Temple. Current level: 3.

 

New positional skills acquired:

Ordination. The First Priest has the authority to ordain any Dark worshipper. The maximum number of the world's priests cannot exceed the number of temples multiplied by 10. Current figures: 10/50

Excommunication. The First Priest has the authority to anathemize any Dark worshipper. Duration of excommunication: from 24 hrs. to eternity. Cooldown: 24 hrs.

Appeal to Gods. The First Priest has the authority to appeal directly to any of the Dark Gods who will always hear his plea even though he won't necessarily reply.

Outcast. The First Priest has the authority to proclaim any of AlterWorld inhabitants a Religious Outcast who will then become fair prey to all Dark worshippers, to the point where anyone who kills a Religious Outcast will receive a considerable amount of Faith points that are necessary for religious rank growth and choice of skills offered by their Patron God. The Mark of Outcast disappears after its bearer's death at the hands of a Dark follower. Cooldown: 24 hrs.

Blessing: a raid buff

Effect: +25 to all types of magic resistance, 10% to physical damage resistance

Duration: 12 hrs.

Ingredient: Spark of Dark Flame. Can be acquired by a lump sum donation of 5,000 gold to the Altar.

 

Congratulations! You've learned the spells:

Personal Portal to the First Temple

Cast time: 6 sec

Mana expenditure: 300

Group Portal to the First Temple

Cast time: 9 sec

Mana expenditure: 1100

 

Congratulations! You've learned the skills:

Patron God: the Fallen One

Shadow of the Fallen One. Allows you to conceal your name, religion and clan affiliation, temporarily changing your relationship with all races to neutral.

Duration: 1 hr.

Cooldown: 24 hrs.

Shield of Faith. Gives complete mana regeneration and 30-sec immunity to all types of damage.

Cooldown: 24 hrs.

 

Congratulations! The First Priest has taken his place by the Altar! 5,000 points Fame received!

 

Fame alert!

Your Fame has exceeded 23,000 points!

You have reached Fame level 6: Your name is written in the history of the world.

 

Oh. I exchanged glances with my inner greedy pig as we reached out to feel each other's virtual biceps. That had been a generous downpour of freebies indeed. Even though not all of the skills gave you a permanent boost, my character's sociopolitical importance had grown manifold. I still couldn't clearly see all the prospects and potential scenarios for using these particular skills, but my gut feeling was telling me I had been dealt a handful of trumps, not of dribs and drabs.

I looked over at the altar. The cracks in the shimmering stone had resealed, the air around it humming with a powerful energy flow. It felt a bit like standing under an electric power cable of, say, five hundred kilowatt. You could almost see the surge of its physical power rush up to be swallowed by the grimy ceiling, then disappear into some unknown astral plane. Was it the Fallen One siphoning the channel, enjoying a quick mana high? I was going to close the tap on him in a moment. I had my own plans for that mana fountain, not to forget the greedy dragon demanding his share of the mana pie. I just hoped that I was the First Priest not in fancy name only; I had to be able to control the Temple when needs be.

I lay my hand on the altar, highlighting it and activating the interaction regime. It exploded with cascades of opening windows. That got me thinking. I'd just done what any regular player would have, highlighting an object, then right-clicking it. That was my old gaming reflex getting the better of me. Still, the Fallen One was my witness that I'd done so for the first time in the last week. The rest of the time my interactions with game objects hadn't differed from real-life ones: you pick it up—you study it—then use it, no interface crutches involved. Which meant that all the little buttons and menus kept integrating into my new reality, commonplace actions and skills replacing gaming elements.

I studied myself, looking for anything different from the default layout. Anything unusual, anything missing? Immediately I noticed the first thing out of place: the quick access menu. The ten little slots in the corner of the screen had disappeared—don't even ask me when or where to—and these days I instinctively reached for the tiny pockets on my belt without even looking, feeling for the right vial in the heat of the fight.

I counted them: eight. Well. Where were the remaining two, then? Let's try it.

I pulled a new vial out of the bag and tried to shove it down a non-existent pocket in my belt. My fingers touched the hard leather, pushing against the steel rivets, then finally felt the opening and shoved the vial into the little pocket. Nine! It worked!

I peered at the little loop suspiciously, then pulled the vial out expecting the opening to disintegrate. As if! Its bandolier-like dark eye kept staring at me, showing no intention of disappearing. Disappointed, I looked away and blinked, detecting a blurred motion out of the corner of my eye. I stared back at the belt. Eight. Funny that.

Now another test, even more important than the first. I pulled two more elixirs out of my bag and brought the amount of little pockets to ten. Then I relaxed, trying to concentrate on other things, and without looking shoved the eleventh elixir down my belt. Wasn't it great? Well done! Now that could give us a considerable advantage over regular players. That was something to consider and to look into—a new direction to take.

Further inspection had shown that the quick spell access slots had equally disappeared. Now I simply remembered the ten quick access spells without having to leaf through the magic book or transfer them to operative memory. The potential of this was much more serious than just an easy access to an extra vial. Increasing the number of available working spells could give the perma players a considerable advantage whenever they battled monsters or other chars. More spells meant more tactics; more chances to get an extra gram of experience or survive a close shave.

At the moment, it wasn't a good time to look into this mystery, so I left it until later. I had a funny feeling there was more to it than that. My hair was already standing on its end as I'd come too close to the altar—so close I was getting little shocks. A high-voltage transformer isn't a good place for thinking.

I concentrated on the opened interface windows. I'd have loved to rip the arms off the bastard who'd tested the interface's ergonomics and usability. It was as clear as mud. Actually, how sure was I that it had been tested at all? I was looking at the inner workings of the NPC admin panel. More than likely, both the post of the First Priest and access to the altar hadn't been meant for real players to begin with. Very well. There's always the good old method of trial and error. I just hoped the system was foolproof and wouldn't let me do anything stupid to this mind-blowing nuclear kettle. With any luck, I'd stay in one piece.

Naturally, I exercised the utmost caution. I didn't touch any settings, just studied the menus, my absolute memory soaking up their multiple branches. Once I checked all the options, I shook my head, trying to put the puzzle together and build a complete map of altar control. After that, it was time to proceed with caution and understanding.

Consecration to a junior god.

For your information: Every Dark Temple automatically boosts the Fallen One's strength. In addition, it can be consecrated to a junior patron god of your choice.

Pantheon alert! The Pantheon of the Fallen One is empty! You can't consecrate the Temple to an existing subgod. Would you like to summon a new god?

You bet! I pressed Confirm, triggering an enormous list sheet. Hundreds of names flickered before my eyes. I had to sort them all out into some kind of system. Why, for instance, would I need all those Indian ones, all those Agni, Brahma, Varuna, Vishnu et al? It wasn't as if I was on the Hindu's pay roll. I fiddled with the list until I finally managed to get rid of all the unwanted ones and arrive at the list of ancient Slavic gods. I also kept the Greek and Scandinavian ones: I had a soft spot for them for some reason. Both Aphrodite and Odin appealed to me more than Guan Di or Hanuman.

The triage resulted in about thirty ancient Slavic names: the likes of Perun, Belobog, Hors and Svarog. A quick prompt popped up when I highlighted the first of them, complete with a list of bonuses for the god's worshippers. That did it for me. Gods, let me tell you, are seriously cool. Take Perun, the god of thunder, patron of warriors. The skills he could shower onto his worshippers made me want to prostrate myself in awe.

Heavenly Thunder: a powerful discharge of electricity that deals the target 2,000 pt. damage. Cooldown: 12 hrs.

Chain L ightning: targets several creatures standing next to each other, starting with the chosen target. Every new target halves the damage: 1500, 750, 350, 200, 100. Cooldown: 12 hrs.

Sky Guard: allows to summon a warrior from Perun's numerous retinue. The summoned creature's level always equals that of the summoner. Spell duration has the minimum limit of 5 min. with no maximum. However, the number of the Thunderer's warriors is limited causing the summoned Guard to leave the summoner at any time in case of a shortage of available retinue warriors when somebody else is casting the same spell. Cooldown: 24 hrs.

Blessed Steel: a weapon buff adding +25% to magic fire damage.

Spell duration: 2 hrs.

Cooldown: 24 hrs.

There is an off chance of the buff never wearing out, leaving the weapon forever enchanted by the divine word.

And so on and so forth. The skill list was long: the god was trying a bit too hard to push the worshipper into earning Faith points, elevating him through the ranks and offering him the chance to choose yet another uber freebie. Wonder if it was the result of the god's already being forgotten once? Meaning that now the divinities would appreciate their earthly following, hurrying to get them out of trouble and showering them with skills.

It looked as if I was in it for the long haul. I lay my shield on the black sooty floor and sat cross-legged on top of it. Let's have a look!

The next dose of shock I received when I made my way down the list to Morana's name. The goddess of winter and the wife of Koschei—the Slavic god of death. The very first ability made me sit up:

Life Cycle: by using this skill, a player will gain one level per second, including all respective racial and class bonuses. Upon reaching level 200, the character's life cycle comes to an end and he receives an XP penalty as he would have in the case of death at the hands of a mob. Cooldown: 24 hrs.

How very unusual. I wasn't even talking about its combat properties: they required quite a bit of combined thinking from me and my calculator. Still, the fact was that this particular ability was my long sought-after suicide button. Plus giving you a couple extra minutes to beat the hell out of your adversaries who wouldn't know what had hit them. As somebody who'd done my time suspended from a hook in the Cats' torture cellar, I knew the true potential of it.

Still, it was never a good idea to bet on a dark horse you'd never seen even though you might have heard that yes, it's a horse and yes, it might be able to run.

I queried the Internet service for everything they had available on Morana. I had barely made my way through half of her skills when they contacted me. Did they have an AI in their customer service or something?

I opened the file and started reading, my heart sinking with every sentence. I really, really didn't like her. Not a good deity at all. Very vicious. Her symbols: the Black Moon, a few skulls and a scythe that she used to cut the thread of life. Holy moly. How sure was I that summoning her wouldn't be a blunder to end all blunders? What if my name would be cursed for millennia for summoning the goddess of death into a deathless world? Laith the Traitor, the Immortality Thief. Did I like the moniker? Not really. Couldn't I find just one out of these hundreds of deities with similar skills and a nicer temper?

I spent the next few hours scanning hundreds of pages of fine print. My head was buzzing on the same note as the mana flow: either from the information overload or from the proximity of the altar. And I couldn't even move aside as I still needed to be in direct contact with the stone. All discomfort aside, I had to admit that few things were more gratifying that studying the skills and abilities of the average Pantheon, especially in a world where gods weren't just manipulation tools in the hands of corrupted priests. Here, they were a force to be reckoned with and the knowledge of them remained a vital tool indeed.

I kept turning page after page. A god, a goddess, a Titan, a dragon...

Zhelia, the goddess of sorrow, sympathy and weeping. Logically, she could do: lots of interesting skills, like blocking pain sensations in battle. To my chagrin, she didn't have what I needed most: voluntary death.

Karna, her sister. Mourning the dead, eternal grieving, greeting the fallen ones on their way to the world of the dead. Same thing: lots of bells and whistles but not the one I needed most.

Finally, when I'd made my way through not only Slavic gods but also Scandinavian, I found it!

Macaria. The daughter of Hades and Persephone. The goddess of blissful death. In Greek mythology, hers was a bit part: apparently, she sacrificed herself at the altar in order to win victory in battle for her brothers. As a goddess she didn't account for much, her skills being mainly passive, but they all dealt with one thing only: an easy death, beneficial and even enjoyable.

Second Chance: a passive skill giving a 10% chance of immediately respawning on the spot in full armor without any XP losses.

Always At Hand: a passive skill giving a 25% chance of your grave teleporting with you to your bind point.

Smile of a Goddess: a passive skill giving 1% chance of receiving extra XP in case of death, equaling five times the XP penalty in case of death at the hands of a mob.

Grace of God: a passive skill giving 10% of not losing experience in case of death.

 

And, finally, that was it:

 

Blissful Death for Another. The skill grants and easy and painless death while sharing the experience lost equally between the Goddess, the Fallen One and the player of your choice. Cooldown: 1 hr.

Bingo. I sent another Internet request for more information. The answer was quite reassuring: the girl had no backstory of any scary or questionable actions, a perfect faceless prospect, virtually a new skill tree with no Hades, Morana or Koschei lurking behind it to pull any strings. Or so I hoped. True, it was unlikely the girl would strengthen the Fallen One, but that wasn't the idea. The sheer voluntary death option would preclude any kidnappings or forceful imprisonment, bringing all perma players—at least a hundred thousand people—under the Fallen One's banners. That was even if you didn't count some totally cool passive skills that could cut your experience losses a good 25%.

I stole a look around, making sure the Fallen One wasn't listening in. He could well have his own ideas about his Pantheon, and there I was, suggesting Macaria the Blessed as his sidekick. I highlighted the line I needed and pressed Yes, whispering,

"This is none of my fault. You should have let me in on your plans."

Bang! Once again, the floor shuddered. The shield I'd so comfortably been sitting on slid from under my backside like a dog on ice. I dropped onto my back, noticing a cloud of a thousand lights appear under the dome and thicken into a luminescent figure.

 

Pantheon alert! A new force has entered the world! Macaria, the goddess of easy death, has joined the Pantheon of the Fallen One.

Dark worshippers! Now you can choose your patron god. In order to do that, visit the temple of your chosen deity or address yourself to one of the Fallen One's priests.

Too bad. I would have thought that clicking a god's name on the menu would be enough. But apparently, religion was sold piecemeal. What now, then? Was I supposed to set up a portal right in the Temple or bless every worshipper personally? Wonder how much the Olders would fork out for private protection against kidnapping? And did I really want to offer them that option? That's where my interests could potentially clash with those of the Fallen One. He needed worshippers while I didn't want the skills to disperse around the world. Having said that, I was his First Priest, so any growth of the Temple was also my personal growth. A mind-boggling prospect.

I waved the message windows away and froze. A pretty girl's figure hovered in the air halfway from the ceiling to the basalt floor.

I jumped up, brushed my clothes and lowered my head. "Goddess..."

Macaria turned her face to me, her eyes curious but still trance-like. "Priest. How long did I sleep?"

Oh. Suppressing the desire to scratch my head, I flexed my math muscles. "Over two thousand years."

"That's a lot. Where are the Heraclidae, my brothers?"

How was I supposed to know? She liked asking uncomfortable questions, didn't she? "In the legends," I managed.

"And this," the girl poked the molten stone with a squeamish finger, "is this my Temple?"

"Actually, this is the Temple of the Fallen One. He's the highest god here. But it's yours as well, my lady," I tried to sugar-coat the news that she'd have to share.

She frowned, shaking her head. "Never heard of him. This awful place just can't be my Temple. Everything has to be white!"

Following a wave of her hand, the streaks of molten stone shifted on the walls, acquiring the whiteness of the finest marble and the sheen of mountain snow caps. In a flash, gone was the dirt; gold mosaic patterns ran across the gleaming white. Slender stucco columns reached for the ceiling sparkling with the finest frescoes.

I stood open-mouthed, watching the Temple's miraculous resurrection. Had anyone ever witnessed something like this in real life, they'd have stopped wreaking havoc on earth and sought redemption under the banners of faith.

"It's just like back home," the goddess whispered. She clutched at her chest and burst out coughing, blood fountaining from her mouth. The girl sank to her knees, croaking, then collapsed to one side.

I darted toward her and scooped her up in my arms, swinging my head every which way. What was I supposed to do? She kept coughing, spitting red everywhere, dark streaks running from her ears and nose.

I concentrated on my internal interface and slammed the new Appeal to Gods button. Tasting the girl's blood in my mouth, I yelled,

"Help me, O Fallen One, quick!"

 

You have tasted divine blood! Now you will always retain a divine particle within you. Your skills and abilities will be a cut above the rest of the mortal world. But beware of false pride! Do not consider yourself equal to Gods! The stairway to heaven is long and fragile; according to some, it has no end at all.

Jesus. For a brief moment, I even forgot about the girl who was hosing everything down with her blood. A hoarse croak brought me back to my senses. I swept the message into Junk and yelled again,

"Fallen One, you son of a-"

"Keep your voice down," a calm voice said next to me. "So you're a vampire now, eh? Who is it you're sucking dry?"

He looked pleased with himself like a cat who'd stolen a pot of cream and chased it down with a double serving of valerian. He looked into the girl's face and gasped, his voice sobering.

"A goddess?"

He rushed towards her and ripped her collar open, exposing a voluptuous blood-soaked chest. He lay his hand on it. Groaning threads of energy stretched from the altar toward him, pumping enormous amounts of mana in double record time. The veins bulged on his glowing arm. Shaking all over, he stood there unmoving, scowling, siphoning kilotons of mana into the wasted goddess. As I watched the altar's glow fade, I grew restless. What if AI 311 had botched up the system it had taken me so much to restore?

The old 311 hadn't let me down, though. Soon the umbilical cord connecting him to the altar started to wither. Heaving a sigh, the Fallen One breathed in the last drops of energy and waved his hand, severing his connection with the altar. His legs gave way; he lowered himself onto the blood-soaked floor next to me.

"Stupid girl..." he whispered looking at her, his voice strangely gentle. The girl's face was clear now, her breathing level. You'd think she was asleep.

He turned to me, raising his hand for a high-five. Mechanically I slapped his palm, celebrating our victory. The familiar gesture symbolized the finding of the Temple, the double resurrection of the goddess and our shared closeness on the bloodied floor. But once I slapped it, I quickly retracted mine. Wasn't I a bit too fraternal with a god? We weren't basketball buddies, after all.

The Fallen One smiled, understanding. "It's all right, Max. You've done good. Congratulations on your priesthood. Now you're the first man on earth after God. Make sure you carry your title with honor. My special thanks for the altar and," he paused reading the information unseen to me, "for Macaria. She is much more significant than she might seem. And when millions of players start worshipping her, they'll make her a true gem of my Pantheon or even something much more important..."

He grunted, getting back to his feet, and walked over to where the girl lay, crouching next to her. Then he smiled, listening to something, and took her hand in his, whispering.

In the meantime, my inner greedy pig had come to and demanded my attention. Knocking himself on the forehead, he winked at the crimson puddles of potentially precious waste. God's blood, oh well. I glanced at the Fallen One's back and reached gingerly into my bag. Trying not to make much noise, I felt for the alchemy kit and produced five empty vials. Dunking them quickly into the priceless ingredient, I sealed them tight and shoved the vials deep into my pocket. Why not? It was going to be wasted, anyway. I might end up mopping it all up in a minute. Wiping God's blood away with a dirty cloth, yeah right...

I rose with a sigh and dragged my feet toward the altar. While the Fallen One was there, I still had to sort out one other thing, namely the promise I'd so stupidly made to one greedy ex-dragon.

I lay my hand on the dark stone, glancing at the status menu.

 

Dark Altar of the First Temple. Consecrated to the Fallen One.

Junio r God: Macaria, the Goddess of Easy Death.

First Priest: Laith

Level: 3

Faith points: 12,911

Faith points needed to proceed to the next level: 2,987,089.

Mana flow: 3,000 per sec. Already accumulated: 180,341. Maximum capacity: 30,000,000

Access levels to mana flow:

Fallen One, 90% control

First Priest, 10% control

I broke the connection, cursing. He'd been smart, hadn't he, that clever bag of bones! And I'd wondered why he'd only asked for ten percent considering my rather hapless situation. That shrunken lizard must have known from the start that that was all the mana available to a priest. But how about my own little projects? My baby dragons, my castle self-restoration channel and a tiny one for my own personal use? That wasn't the deal!

"Eh, Fallen One? Need to talk."

* * *

To Dave Rubac, Head of Integration and Development Department.

 

A memo excerpt:

Dear Sir,

In accordance with the plan endorsed by you we are now working on a number of retrofitted deep implants into AlterWorld. As of now, we have generated 24 class A installations, 411 class B installations as well as over 6,000 items, quest triggers, control modules and legal paperwork.

The process isn't as smooth as we'd hoped. Figuratively speaking, we're trying to shoe a running horse using gold nails and an electron microscope for a hammer. At the moment we can't introduce any changes above level 4. Most tasks at hand can't be solved head-on. You can't imagine the lengths we've had to go to in order to create the Battle Golems' bunker. That demanded over five hundred micro actions that discreetly pushed the world in the right direction.

However, to our deepest regret, even this method seems to have developed quite a few faults. The required number of the pressure points keeps growing at a frightening rate, increasing the probability of both our error and of the higher beings' resistance.

Considering all this, the recent loss of three class-A installations looks especially humiliating. I am talking about the closed-off Dead Lands zone, including the 9A installation known as the Super Nova Temple and excellently mapped-out mithril deposits having the total weight of 317 tons (entry 18A in the classified inventory). That's not even counting the roughly hundred lower-class artifacts still in the lands that are now off limits to us.

According to our investigation, AI 4915/E who was officially introduced as the generate d territories' secondary tester responsible for the behavioral intellect of the implants' guards, stopped answering our status requests a few days ago. We tend to believe he went perma mode, then transferred his mind into a more powerful entity under his own control. We can only guess how the activated implant affected his own consciousness, but the fact remains that he has granted access to the object to the most undesirable individual in the whole of AlterWorld. No way that could be a coincidence as the player in question had in his possession an artifact that allowed him to restore the First Temple—a game scenario which wasn't at all previewed. And the nearest event that was supposed to solve several strategic problems at once, namely Obtaining the Heart of a Dark God, was only scheduled for the coming Christmas season.

The player has proved to be digitized which prevented us from checking his logs, but at least we've managed to recognize some residual traces of divine influence. It's possible that one of them, unable to restore the Altar on his own, generated a chain of events similar to how we create implants. Those are micro events: a mosquito biting you on the neck, a mob critting you, a waitress' cleavage distracting the object's attention for the 1.5 seconds necessary.