Inferno (Play to Live: Book # 4) (14 page)

"Just make sure you don't bite off more than you can chew," he continued. "You should remember your place. Don't ever get in my way again. Next time you might not get away so easily."

Had he just threatened the First Priest? In front of everyone? This was a challenge I couldn't leave unanswered. By insulting me, he was discrediting the Fallen One.

I racked my mind for a suitable response but found none. Desperate, I scooped up as much Sainthood as I could, working a little miracle for the masses.

An enormous pair of ghostly black wings opened in the sky, obscuring the horizon behind my back. The Fallen One's gigantic figure loomed above, wagging a warning finger.

Being new to this priestly stuff, I underestimated the amount of force I needed, emptying my stocks to add believability and monumentality to the illusion created. But was it really an illusion? The Fallen One's glare pinned the spectators to the ground, freezing words in their throats. An oppressive silence hung over the battlefield, disturbed only by the croaking of disappointed ravens and a quiet crackling sound as Flint's petrified figure was turning back to flesh.

Chapter Seven

T
he United Korea cluster. A Nova Castle, the patrimonial estate of the Gimhae clan.

The clan's combat section coiled its armored spring at the foot of an impregnable donjon. Despite the castle courtyard's impressive size, it couldn't comfortably hold the eight hundred fully equipped warriors. Their ranks were broken by a miscellany of pets, mounts and even an occasional golem.

Support services huddled by the walls: all those buffers and reserves complete with the HQ and their bodyguards. Their turn was to come much later, once the entry perimeter was mopped up.

The Gimhae clan, which had long been enjoying its position in the Korean sector's Top 10, had decided to take the risk of probing the mysterious Inferno on their own. They could always ask the United Asian Alliance to join in if needed — but the offence that the clan had suffered by the sharing of the Diamond Egg still smarted. They had honestly pulled their weight while battling the awesome Nagafen, but it had been the Geondal clan that had lain their hands on the precious Black Guard stone, silencing any unhappy voices either with gold or with threats.

"The portal will open in... thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!.."

The voice of the clan's chief cabbie echoed from the high walls, his slim nervous fingers crumpling the precious scroll they had bought from the short-sighted Russians for a crazy amount of money.

His anxiety was quite understandable: this penniless North Korean kid was holding in his hands a scrap of parchment worth a hundred and thirty thousand dollars, exactly the same as his lifelong dream: a two-bed in Pyongyang's poshest suburb. He was dying to activate an evacuator to jump the wall, then rapid-port out and sell the scroll to the clan's competitors for half as much again. It was doable. The problem was, he couldn't hide from them in real life. They would find him and make an example of him by hanging him by the balls on a fiber optic cable.

There was no way that they wouldn't find him. His virtual connection contract had been sealed with his digital signature. And whoever had that, could unravel his entire life from the first maternity tests to yesterday's purchase of a pack of condoms in a public toilet vending machine.

"The portal will open in... Three! Two! Go!"

With an impressive rumble, a burgundy-colored arch blossomed on top of the portal pad secured in a large thick-barred cage.

The cabbie peered at the status of the spell he was casting, then reported on the HQ channel,

"The Portal closes automatically in fifteen minutes' time. Its capacity is only limited by the direction of the traffic: one-way."

He heard a sigh of relief from one of the staff officers. The data was quite acceptable. So they didn't need to take the toughest option.

"First one away!"

The ogre gatekeeper screeched the crank that raised the heavy cast-iron portcullis.

An ever-watchful raider darted toward the portal. Hung with a plethora of shields and buffs aimed at prolonging the ranger's life in any environment — even if he fell into a pool of magma — he dove into the arch, hurriedly commenting in the chat about the situation on the other side.

"A basalt valley! Rocky ridges! Volcanos on the horizon — and some monsters bathing in torrents of lava! Here's the screenshot! An unknown creature at six hundred feet at five o'clock, level 320! And another! Two more! I observe about two dozen, with the potential to pull them one by one. Screenshot! I observe their shepherd, level 400, and a pack of Cerberi, level 300+. The entry perimeter is safe!"

The HQ reaction was knee-jerk, "Perimeter mopping-up group!"

About fifty warriors lunged through the portal and fell into a protective circle around the entry zone. "All clear!"

"Attention all raiders! Commence teleporting! Clan code yellow! Increase the numbers of NPC guards to forty percent of the maximum. Wish us luck!"

The steel snake of lined-up warriors stirred and shoved its curious head into the portal arch. The clan's elite was heading into the unknown, hoping for generous xp and unique loot.

Neither the raid buffs nor the players' patience were going to last forever. No one was in the mood to go on an extended hike across the lava plains. Which was why in less than two minutes the clan's main puller — who was riding the fastest scout golem, his magic resistance maxed out beyond human belief — was already bringing the first basalt-chewing "cow" of the peacefully grazing herd.

The attempt wasn't his best one. The ranger had been right: the mobs were guarded by a petty demon and his Cerberi. Despite the fact that the moment was perfect — the pooches were at the opposite end of the lava plain — they lost no time aggroing the puller, chasing after him and compensating for their lower speed with a much better knowledge of the terrain.

The kid was an expert though. He didn't pull the train toward the raid but started twisting a risky path along the line of warriors, allowing his assistants to pull monsters one by one and chop them to mincemeat within seconds.

And chop they did. Eight hundred sentients against a single modest mob — the ultimate form of respect that they paid to the unknown enemy. And still the raid leader played it safe by keeping the casters' mana over 90%, allowing his analysts to study the Infernal creatures in peace.

They made a quick job of the Cerberi. The shepherd demon followed suit. The raid tanks held the aggro, swallowing the damage, grunting under the mob's deadly punches that knocked off a good thousand hits at a time. With over a hundred assorted healers at the rear, they had nothing to worry about.

The sluggish armored cow was the last and the hardest kill. It had indecent amounts of health and excellent resistance to physical damage. Also, it kept regenerating, ripping pieces of flesh from the warriors' bodies and gulping them down without chewing. The tanks swore at their injuries, remarkably painful and bleeding, that considerably restricted their mobility.

And still they found the creature's weak spots. The cow was susceptible to cold and had several vulnerable splits in its seemingly impermeable armor.

During a two-minute break the loot master did a quick run, collecting the spoils. A moment later, the entire clan was shaking in greedy anticipation. Yes! The creature's precious armor plates were made of chitin — the impenetrable component that before had only been available on three unique dragons. And here it were dropped by quite mediocre (as far as Inferno went) monsters. Chitin was worth its own (quite hefty) weight in gold, simply because it was the best armor upgrade ingredient known to AlterWorld. Fifty points apiece! And you could hang as many of those onto yourself as you wanted, provided you had the strength necessary to lug them around.

The demon shepherd dropped a very interesting whip which created an immediate behind-the-scenes war among the rogues. Those sly operators just loved its ability to wrap itself around the victim, immobilizing it and strangling it with its seven tails of fire.

While the clan finished off the herd, the rangers headed up into the unknown lands, mapping the territory and looking for any potential farming locations. They sent in two triumphant reports at once: they had discovered two one-off Antique dungeons. They had to be at least a year old!

Never before had the Gimhae clan laid their hands on this kind of treasure. They'd only heard legends of such heaps of ancient artifacts and gold amassed by the mobs.

The clan leader bit his lip, afraid of spoiling their luck. The Russians hadn't lied. The area had never been explored. Regardless of their raid's outcome, they simply had to come back. These lands held the key to the clan's future power and its top position in the cluster's rankings.

Seven hours later, the group — which had been forced to break down into several smaller subraids — had mopped up five one-off dungeons and a dozen herds. They kept the castle posted about their progress and everybody there was now shaking with greed. The loot extended their wildest expectations.

The raid's chief tank held the freshly-won Blade of Darkness that swallowed the light around it. The experienced warrior cast an occasional doubtful glance about him, as if asking, 'Is this really mine? Honest?'

The top wizard — the damage master lovingly leveled by the clan — was gingerly holding the Crystal of Salamander to his chest like a lost child. This Crystal gave an incredible +60% to fire spell damage. A stone like this cost the equivalent of a luxury car.

The clan leader managed to lay his hands on the as yet-unheard-of mount: the Fiery Pegasus. The list of its potential development options left the Korean chief speechless: on reaching level 40, Pegasus grew a pair of phantom wings, upgrading itself to a flying mount. The first in the world!

The successful mini dungeon missions left the clan dangerously overconfident. Greed replaced their initial caution, their appetites spurring them into ever riskier pulls. The clan had lost all sense of moderation.

The raid entered the lands of the Arch Demon Asmodeus near the watchtower. Its unheard-of demon guards were only going through the motions of guarding. Their rich gear was begging to be looted. After a brief council, the clan pulled itself together and attacked. And what an attack it was! They put all their heart in it as well as triple precautions.

It took them less time to reset the tower's hits to zero than it did to finish killing the guards. With a groan, the ancient structure collapsed onto itself, turning into a heap of rocks enveloped in a cloud of dust. The guards, however, proved tougher opponents. The battle chat was flooded with messages, so no one paid any heed to the initial reports of the crits received, of the double damage to the players' vulnerable spots, or of the enemy's especially successful combos and spells.

The ten-minute restore and respawn break was more than welcome. It allowed the clan's analysts to work through the bulk of information received, adding new pics and recommendations to the clan's bestiary.

The loot was distributed between the mule and the treasurer. The latter received, apart from the usual gold, also the Demonic Soul Crystals found on the killed Infernal guards. Finally the clan members understood the true meaning of the entry fee demanded at the gates of the Seventh Heaven. What an incredible stroke of luck! The quality of their success was transforming into quantity!

After that, they encountered a small demonic village. The raid made a quick job of it, looting some impressive unique crafting ingredients half of which they'd never heard of before. The clan's analysts got busy leafing through the dusty ancient manuscripts in search of forgotten recipes that had previously been considered the figments of the chroniclers' and demon fighters' imaginations.

Soon the tall spires of Asmodeus' Small Citadel loomed on the horizon. Under a different set of circumstances, the clan leader would never have dared to besiege it. But it looked as if no one had expected them: only a handful of guards stood watch on the walls, the gate itself open in a silent welcome. Unbeknown to themselves, the Koreans had chosen a highly opportune moment. Asmodeus and his personal guards were busy defending his borders against some cheeky neighbor or other.

As the clan leader watched the castle guards in their gleaming armor, glimpsing their wizards generously hung with precious artifacts, he could clearly see his own army equipped in this legendary gear, gradually bringing the entire cluster — or beyond, even — under their rule.

So he took the risk.

On his signal, an avalanche of sentients flooded through the open gate. Now the clan had to fight dozens of demons at once. The thirty or forty warriors per mob that the clan could afford just wasn't enough. The battle dragged on, their loss counter spinning faster. Had it been happening in real life, the Koreans would have already been defeated. But the cheat's trick — the humans' ability to resurrect — had wrestled victory from the demons' clawed hands. Their numbers kept dwindling while the raiders' ranks remained virtually the same.

The crimson sun had set on the Koreans who first finished off the guards, then the town volunteers and finally, the crippled gray-haired veterans of Infernal wars. The clan's healers puked cinnamon. Hung with death debuffs, the Korean warriors had already discarded their ruined gear and armor and changed into their spare kits. Repairing it took the time and place that they didn't have. Which was why the clan leader breathed a sigh of relief when he sighted the figures of baby demons and fat demonic females in the defenders' thinning ranks. The clan had made it.

They had already looted a couple of shops and an alchemist lab and were now busy monotonously ramming the arsenal door when a crimson portal spluttered open in the castle square, letting out a furious Asmodeus.

His border campaign wasn't going that well. Verenus' legions were shoving his elite troops back, but the fallen seraphim was obliged to leave them and hurry back to his citadel in order to personally punish the cheeky rats striking him in the back.

The already-exhausted clan was spread too thinly around the densely built area to offer any resistance. And once this King of all demons engaged his Soul Trap ability, the clan reeled back and fled, hurriedly activating emergency portals and caring little about the safety of the tanks and the few others who had preserved some semblance of clear thinking while fighting the rearguard action.

They most likely didn't even hear the wailing of souls ripped out of bodies in the chaos of close combat, the players' limp waxen shapes sinking to the ground.