The Destroying Plague Read online

  As for me, I was hoping I could fix everything. And the problem wasn’t the creature that was the Destroying Plague, certainly a disgusting and unkind character. I could live with that. For me, it was more to do with betraying Behemoth, with whom my connection was more than just a part of the game. It was a silly thought, but I considered him something akin to an old comrade.

  For Tissa, it wasn’t all so categorical. Both Crag and I remained threats: eternally chased, hunted, living under the Damocles’ Sword of the preventers. Tissa, as she’d admitted, wanted something else; stable progress, steady career growth in a clan, and, why hide it — her own share of glory. Her popularity after the victory in the Arena was starting to fade, and no matter how the girl joked, we saw how that bothered her. The rebel Tissa was hooked on popularity, and if it weren’t for a direct ban from her dad, she would have gladly gone to be on the TV or network shows she got invites to. But Mr. Schafer had his own ideas about how all that would end and nipped it in the bud. Popularity like that was short-term if you didn’t maintain it with new achievements — streams and demonstrations of gameplay. If she stayed in our clan, Tissa couldn’t talk about her life in Dis because of my status. With the Amazons, she could say what she liked.

  In the end she weighed up everything the Ochre Witch was offering. And to be honest, we understood her. Everything she’d been striving to achieve in all her days in Dis for the last two years had been offered to her on a silver platter. My uncle Nick used to love that turn of phrase. We were upset, of course, but at the same time we were just happy for our friend.

  When the guys were leaving, Ed remembered something important. He stopped at the threshold.

  “We forgot about Patrick! What if he turns undead automatically? He isn’t a player! I’ll log in before Scyth and take him out of the town. Just in case…”

  They left and I took stock of our meeting: the Awoken had remained almost entirely whole, changed its faction, race, and, based on what we learned next, it would continue to implement its plan to achieve greater heights in Disgardium. And Tissa… I’d come back to her decision to leave the clan after the citizenship tests. Then her time would come to go out into the big world, and who knew, maybe something would change in the clan and her relationship with me.

  After seeing my clanmates out, I thought I’d spend the next couple of hours on tenterhooks before I logged into Dis, but I was wrong. After lunch I got a call from Rita Wood, also known as Overweight.

  “Alex, we need to meet,” she said, and her voice sounded alarmed. “It’s important!”

  “Fly to my house,” I answered and gave her the address.

  Less than an hour later, she appeared at the door. At first, I didn’t even recognize the girl — I was used to her virtual appearance in the sandbox. It had been two months since we’d last met in real life. Rita had changed — she was stretched out and thin. Her high cheekbones stood out on her once round face. I hesitated and she came in without waiting an invitation, hugging me and pecking me on the cheek. She followed me into the living room, but started talking as soon as she came in.

  “A couple of days ago, you linked me the descriptions of a couple of legendaries and asked me to price them on the black market. I sent them to a trustworthy acquaintance. He’s been in the business a long time, but his activities are… kind of illegal. If you know what I mean. Nobody works in this business without protection, and my acquaintance’s protection is someone from Tristad. So, here’s the thing…”

  Rita glanced into the refrigerator and pointed at some soda water. I nodded, she took out the bottle, opened it and took a swig.

  “One of the pieces of gear is pretty normal, at least among legendaries. Shamanic chainmail that enhances spirit magic. There were no problems pricing that, the average value is around a hundred thousand phoenixes. Less my acquaintance’s fee, you’d get around seventy-five thousand for it. More or less…”

  She fell silent to drink more water. Seems she got a thirst in her rush to get to me. I’d contacted Overweight because we needed real money. Phoenixes. I couldn’t wait two months until the citizenship tests to transfer the clan gold into real money. After the escape from the Modus castle, we discussed where to hide from the preventers’ persistent attention, and Manny suggested we fit out a base in Kali Bottom. Everyone liked the idea, but we needed money. That was when I remembered the artifact black market.

  All trades in Dis were tracked, whereas through the black market, you could buy and sell items and services for real money. Well, alright, for cryptocurrency, since trades in phoenixes were also tracked. But for our idea, cryptocurrency was enough: we planned to use it to pay for our accommodation, and we could always turn it into phoenixes. In short, I wanted to sell the legendary Summoning Whistle, or the Arena Master’s Horn I’d won, but then I completed the treasury and chose a couple of legendaries that wouldn’t be any use to the clan.

  “So, what’s the problem?” I asked.

  “The second legendary. That’s the problem. It’s a chest item called Vestment of Irkuyem’s Fury, and it turns out to be far from simple. It’s part of a top set for druid tanks. The full set can absorb, for a minute, as many percent points of damage as health you lose. Can you imagine that? This set is the dream of any bear druid! Where did you get this, Alex?”

  “Why does it matter where? That’s awesome! Just imagine how we could sell it for!”

  “You aren’t hearing me!” Rita said nervously. “My damn trustworthy acquaintance is a Triad man! And he wants to know exactly where I got the info on this legendary!

  Chapter 13. Nucleus of the Destroying Plague

  THE TRIAD HAD EXTENDED its roots throughout the world and absorbed many other similar structures. As of today, it united and controlled practically the entire criminal world. The Syndicate, Eastern European authorities, South American drug dealers, Yakuza, the Nigerian Death Squads — they’d all either been beheaded or destroyed or had willingly joined the Triad. Since then, the organization had gotten a lot of multinational fresh blood.

  The Triad mostly consisted of non-citizens, and rumors persisted that the organization had a link to the government.

  Naturally, the black market of Disgardium was also controlled by criminals. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. The Triad had extended itself in the game itself too, controlling many industries. Even Snowstorm couldn’t do anything about it.

  What could you do with the Celestial Warriors clan? A good, flourishing clan which owned the entire resort city of Perfetto in the Empire’s south, with all its gambling businesses with unlimited betting, brothels for any taste, restaurants where every chef was a grand master of cooking, an arena with famed gladiators and daily performances from world-renowned stars. And a few other little things: vineyards, breweries, idyllic gardens and famous people’s villas.

  Everything was possible in Dis. And that may be the reason that more and more citizens preferred to save money for a holiday in Perfetto, through a portal cast by a mage from the Celestial Warriors, make themselves at home in a hotel owned by the Celestial Warriors, and waste time and money in buildings belonging to the Celestial Warriors. Also known as the Triad. Even some in the top preventer clans belonged to it, it seemed.

  So, Rita’s concern was understandable. There was nothing unusual about the Triad’s interest in the set legendary. What was annoying was their interest in its source. Rita could easily name me, but her feminine intuition told her that there was more than curiosity behind this apparently idle question.

  “I said I didn’t know who owned the item. That I’d met a representative of his, a middle-man, in a securoom…”

  ‘Securooms’ were miniature cryptoworlds. They were often just buildings without doors and with a couple of chairs, or (guess why) a bed. These worlds were created at request, with a random algorithm. They had no physical location and existed only in the form of data in the operating memory of the two capsules of the attendees. There were no logs, no way to record eve
nts. Total isolation. Information was conveyed only between the capsules and only encrypted.

  Rita wasn’t making excuses, but I saw she felt ill at ease.

  “This middleman, my acquaintance, asked too many strange questions! He doesn’t know me personally; we only meet in securooms. Each time I generate a new appearance and call out a codeword agreed during the last meeting…”

  “So, there’s nothing to worry about?”

  “There is, Alex,” Rita sighed. “You can’t sell the item until you decide to reveal yourself. You know what Essence Revelation does? Magical gear identification?”

  Oh yes, after yesterday’s events I certainly knew. But it seemed the girl had something else in mind.

  “It identifies an unknown artifact?”

  “You’re talking about revealing the hidden properties of an item, and that too. But apart from everything else, Essence Revelation reveals information about all the previous owners. It’s an expensive service, extremely expensive, but if you decide to sell the Vestment of Irkuyem’s Fury, and the Triad buys it, then you’re going to get a knock at the door. You see, this set, according to my acquaintance, drops only in one place, which you can only get to under special conditions. That’s how he said it, ‘special,’ and looked at me like I was stupid. Tried to judge my reaction. It was news to me, so I hope my surprise seemed honest.”

  “Then let’s just forget about this legendary and sell only the shamanic chainmail?”

  “I revealed that one too. Now these two pieces of gear are linked in the eyes of my acquaintance, and believe me, he’s already tracking all the auction houses of Dis for either item to appear.”

  It was important for the items to show up for sale, so as not to put Rita in a bind. If only I could get rid of their ‘history’ so that my name didn’t show up among the previous owners… Never mind, I’d sort it out later, maybe we’d find a suitable spell.

  “I still need money, Rita… Phoenixes. I’ll see what else I can sell, only… Do you have any other contacts? Only not Triads.”

  “I can go to the market myself, without a middleman. Although then I’ll have zero reputation and the same level of trust. “But listen…” Rita hesitated. “You only just got out of the sandbox a week ago, right? It’s none of my business, of course, but where did you get top-end gear like that? And so much of it… Wait! Before you start stammering and lying, let me tell you what I think first. Alright? If I ask rhetorical questions, don’t answer — I’m just following the chain of logic.”

  I shifted on the sofa, and not at all because the hem of Rita’s dress rose when she tucked a leg underneath herself, and not at all because of her outstanding… beautiful eyes. Only the scene reminded me of a very similar one, with a conversation in the exact same place and on the exact same subject. Only with a different girl.

  “First your fantastical ascent in the sandbox. A level one loser that couldn’t find even five silver for gear, suddenly climbing up to level five in a few days. That could be explained by the support of your classmates, but a couple of months later, after creating your own clan and bringing in those nerd Dementors, who couldn’t stand noobs, you won the global Junior Arena. I could name another range of strange events too, like the bunch of anonymous First Kills that crashed down on the sandbox, a few awesome epics you put up for sale, but I think I’ve made my point. And now it seems like you’re trying to auction off the best items ever seen in Dis, and you’re treating them as if you have a whole chest full…”

  Rita’s eyes widened and she gasped.

  “Wait. Do you really have a whole chest full? Daamn! You really can’t lie to save your life, Alex! You gotta improve your poker face.”

  “Don’t try and trick me, Wood. Not a single muscle moved on my face!”

  “Uh-huh, sure. Your ears are red, and anyway… You… I won’t say it directly… Long story short, you’re special, right?” Rita was imagining something terrible and shuddered as she imagined a Threat. “I see by your eyes that the answer is yes! Gotcha!”

  “What are you driving at? If you want to give me up…”

  “I have too much respect for you. I like you, Alex! But even without that, I believe in a little something called karma. So, don’t expect any tricks from me. On the other hand, I have some unique information, and as a professional merchant, I can’t just sit and do nothing.”

  Rita said nothing for a moment but didn’t get an answer. I’d become undead, a vassal of the Destroying Plague. If all the preventers of the world started hunting me, I could just go beyond the frontier and live there. At least I didn’t have to fear the debuffs of the Lakharian Desert. And in real life I could hide with Manny, with whom, incidentally, I needed to speak and decide what to do next with the workers.

  “Alright, Alex. Let’s try something else. Don’t answer anything and don’t promise anything. Just keep in mind that you can count on me in your threatening,” she smiled, “deeds and trades. And if it’s possible, and I see based on the example of the Dementors that it is, I hope I can join your clan.”

  “Thank you for your frankness. I really value it and your understanding. As for the clan… I need to discuss it with the others.”

  “Alright.”

  Rita stood up and I showed her out. I apathetically snoozed in my bed before my log-on to Dis. Too much was happening.

  * * *

  Fort Kharinza welcomed me with the wailing of wind and a stench. The dusk sunbeams, piercing through the two peaks of the mountain range, covered the roofs of the untouched fort building with a bloody light.

  Before, there had been an improvised graveyard with decorative tombstones behind the temple of the Sleeping Gods, but now the place had taken on the shape it had before my first time on the island: ancient stone slabs in the form of a truncated pyramid, with no structure at the top.

  The ruins of the destroyed temple had been cleared in less than a day. Who did that? The lich and his rotting friends, no doubt. I saw a chain of zombies extending beyond the bounds of the fort, passing the last stones along the line. The dead men showed no reaction to me. Their boss Shazz was nowhere to be seen.

  I didn’t really know what to do. I tried to reach out to Behemoth with my thoughts but got no answer. All I could rely on was myself.

  So, what did I have? Obviously, all this was part of the script that had launched the global event — Invasion of the Destroying Plague.

  Something similar had happened many years ago, when players were only just getting to level one hundred and unlocking the continent of Shad’Erung — someone found an injured orc on the shore. A ship of the Empire had crashed against the cliffs, and only the orc captain NPC survived. The player that found the injured orc launched a global event, and sometime later, it became possible to choose a dark race — orc, troll, ogre, minotaur, dragonite… That player, incidentally, was Horvac, the leader of the Travelers. The orcs held a conversion ritual for him, and he became one of their own. Horvac took his whole clan to the Empire and became a billionaire.

  Apart from my character changing, nothing like that seemed to have happened this time. No notifications, news of a new faction on the game forums, nothing.

  My interface was the same, except that the abilities linked to the Sleeping Gods were inactive; the grayed-out icons of Sleeping Touch, Sleeping Invulnerability and Sleeping Vindication did nothing when I tried to use them. My quest log said the same: Behemoth’s quest hadn’t disappeared, wasn’t showing up as failed, but also wouldn’t open — it was just a gray line in the list. The map continued to display the places of power where a temple of the Sleeping Gods could be built. A point had been added to them on Kharinza.

  I got disappointed when I opened the profile, however. Now that the sole temple had been destroyed, all the Sleeping God adepts had lost their Unity bonus. The divine passive skill itself hadn’t disappeared, but also wasn’t activated.

  At least my class skills were still working: Divine Revelation, Imitation, Lethargy, Liber
ation and Cloak Essence remained available.

  I looked at my body. I still had all my equipment except my boots. My feet looked human, but the dead flesh and deadly-pale skin confirmed it: Scyth was undead now.

  I opened my profile to confirm:

  Scyth, level 39 undead human

  Real name: Alex Sheppard (hidden).

  Real age: 16 years (hidden).

  Class: Herald (hidden).

  Clan: Awoken.