The Clan (16 page)

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.

Whether the entity's objectives are limited to restoring the First Temple or they reach much further, we can't tell you right now.

Jan Kaevski, chief of the closed group.

Chapter Twelve

I
gave the god a quick update on my adventures, then grassed on the sly-assed bag of bones. "You understand, don't you," I concluded, "that I need some mana flow even if only to clear up this mess," I pointed around me at what I remembered to be piles of junk.

The Fallen One studied the gleaming white decor with skepticism, raising a quizzical eyebrow at all the gilding and artwork. Embarrassed, I showed him my filthy hand smeared with the divine blood. "That's all Macaria's work! Outside, the place is a bomb site. The castle is in ruins and so is the Temple."

I started unbending my fingers. "Firstly, I need to restore the castle walls and the temple grounds. Then I'll need to explore the lands and ensure my own safety. Thirdly and lastly, the baby dragons on the North Tower are starving and need to be fed. There must be more, only I can't think of everything at once."

"That's enough," he shrugged off my arguments. "I know about Tianlong. You can't miss him: his lair is absolutely impenetrable to magic. But one-tenth of
my
altar for eternity—that's a bit thick! Next time you sign up for something stupid like that, at least cross your fingers behind you back. That way your karma cooldown will be less in case you renege on your word. Your contract is questionable in many respects so one could easily circumvent it, especially considering my training: I've made my way through a good hundred thousand manuals of which over two hundred are legal tomes. But... Dragon is our man, if you can say that of a skeletal Elf god. Attracting him to our camp is a number one task. Okay, wait here, I'll see what I can do."

He glanced at the goddess. With a warm smile, he rearranged the ripped shirt on her chest.
Perfectionist! He could have restored it had he really wanted to. He snapped his fingers. The girl's body disappeared, on its way to some heavenly chambers awash with the sounds of panpipes. One more snap—and I stood there alone.

I looked around me. The hall was medically clean in its Greek beauty. The god had left, taking all the blood-stained DNA samples with him. What a shame. My inner greedy pig had been pulling at my jacket fighting to attract my attention, hinting that the miserable five vials were nothing compared to a cozy wine cellar stacked up with more of the same.

Okay, what next? I checked my virtual to-do list and grinned. Freebies!

There's a time to cast stones and a time to gather them, I said to myself as I reached into my bag for the Soul Stone containing the Hell Hound. I wiped it clean with my sleeve.

"I've taken good care of you. I haven't wasted you stupidly. So please don't let me down."

I placed the stone onto the altar's mirrored black top and stepped back, just in case. In the nick of time.

My ears resounded with a powerful blast. A portal window materialized over the altar, allowing me a glimpse into the depths of the Inferno: it glowed every shade of crimson, lava flowing unhurriedly amid the strangely formed piles of basalt rocks.

Judging by the flames, the atmosphere there was thinner, causing oxygen to burn faster than the weird-looking Hell flora could produce it. Air gushed into the portal, trying to level out the pressure and pulling in everything within its reach. Like myself, for one. It was a good job the portal had a short-impulse structure. Had it lasted a bit longer, I'd have had every chance to enjoy the afterlife sooner than expected.

It all finished very quickly: with a double popping sound, the portal opened then closed again, with me clutching at thin air, my back a strangely convoluted shape. Talk about a lucky miss.

I switched my focus to read a new quest message:

Quest completion alert: Hell's Temptation. Quest completed!

Reward: Access to quest Hell's Temptation II.

Oh. My inner greedy pig opened and closed his mouth, speechless with indignation. Hadn't he had enough freebies? They kept coming faster than we could sort through them. A new quest was a very good thing: the further the unique chain of quests took us, the heftier the prize at the end of it. Consider the lost stone an investment, I told my greedy alter ego before closing the message. Underneath it, I discovered another one:

Congratulations! You've learned a new skill: Portal to Inferno.

The connection between a necro wizard and an imprisoned soul is so great that the stone that holds it becomes a flashing beacon calling him. The portal, this smoothed-out fold of matter that covers the rupture to a different plane, cannot conceal from you the crystal's true light. From now on, you can always open the portal leading to the dark depths of Inferno and keep it open for as long as is needed.

Ingredient: a Soul Stone of a level identical or above that of the caster.

I tipped the crown onto my forehead and scratched the back of my head. Curiouser and curiouser. The uberness of the skill directly depended on the degree of the portal's inaccessibility by the usual means. A quick Wiki check showed that no such means existed. Only the planes' respective bosses could occasionally drop portal scrolls; even less occasionally, you could receive them as rewards in some truly mean quests. These kinds of skills only existed as fandom rumors and vague official hints. It couldn't be otherwise, considering the frequency with which a few top guilds raided their respective planes. Having said that, the answer to the question was now right in front of me, so you never know, I might one day lead
my
guild against some Infernal Arch Demon's castle. Not today, of course, not even next Friday. But it was good to know I had that option if I needed it. I could also earn a quick and quite hefty buck on the side as a gate keeper for some serious customers. This I could also keep in mind as a potential and relatively kosher money spinner.

So where was the promised access to the new quest? I stole a look around, then tapped the altar with a sacrilegious finger. Hell Hound, hello?

A new gust of wind forced me to spread-eagle in an attempt to keep my footing on the slippery floor. Once the artificial tempest subsided, I ventured a look around. The hound stood not far from me, looking quite the worse for wear. She was heaving, her back streaked with blood, holding one paw gingerly in front of her. In her teeth she held a still warm lump of flesh, its severed muscle fibers twitching. She downed it in one forced gulp, spat out a bloodied clump of hair onto the white marble and limped toward me, her glare unkind and unpromising. Her pack—or should I say, whatever was left of it—froze in a thin line behind her back. Three were rather in a bad way—males, as far as I could tell by their impressive size and wide chests,—and over a dozen females of various sizes and ages, each of them holding a puppy struggling half-heartedly in their mouths.

The Hound approached, her neon glare burning a hole in me. A familiar voice resounded in my head,

"Thank you for doing what I asked of you. And doubly so for laying the soul stone onto the First Temple Altar. Its sacred power alone allowed me to survive and save the remains of my pack who were already cornered at the nest's lower level."

"What happened? Why were you attacked?"

"You weren't in a hurry, were you?" she gave me an accusing look. "In the land of the Inferno, it's survival of the fittest. Our hunting grounds are poor. Even the best of our trackers can only find fresh meat but once a week. So once our pack had lost its leader, everybody and their grandmother were after our hunting grounds. I was nearly too late to help—and still my attack from the rear had surprised the enemy and allowed me to break through to rejoin my pack—or rather, the third of it that's still left."

She raised her hackles, her voice
accusing. Obeying her non-verbal command, the other pack members stepped forward, baring the deadly needles of their fangs under their threateningly shaking lips.

"Hey, wait!" I recoiled in a rush to activate the shield and locate the new ability that gave me 30-sec immunity. "It wasn't a pleasure cruise for me, either. First I was in jail, if you remember, after you'd left me there. Almost as soon as I was released, I got kidnapped and jailed again. I tried to restore the temple in the City of Light's catacombs which was how I found this altar fragment that allowed me to restore the First Temple. Which I did precisely two hours ago! So what's your problem? Had it not been for me, you'd still be pining away on that chain, looking at the world through prison bars. As an alternative, you might have become a zombie hound serving some Necro summoner," I dropped by way of a hint.

She squinted at me, her intentions unclear—they could have been political as well as gastronomical. Then she tilted her head toward the pack, growling. The hounds stepped back, dropping to their skinny backsides. Their thin ratlike tails, covered in fine armor scales, still brushed nervously across the floor.

Finally, she made up her mind and raised her head to me, her stare hypnotic. "We need a new home."

New quest alert: Hell's Temptation II.

The remains of the once-powerful pack of Hell Hounds have been forced to abandon their nest and are now looking for a new place. Help the creatures of Inferno to find a new home.

Reward: up to you. The Hounds are strong. It's not often they accept somebody's superiority. Whatever happens, do not corner them. Even a rat is capable of attacking a man who's cut off its escape routes.

For your information: The divine particle reacts at the first sign of aggression that targets its bearer and dissolves in his aura granting him a near-absolute immunity. You can now enjoy maximum protection from mental control spells.

Bummer! How was I to know that? I wished she'd have swiped me with her claws, then I'd have gotten some physical damage immunity instead. That way I'd have been a true monster killer. What. A. Shame. Never mind, we'd simply have to work with what we had. I glanced back at the Hound who was studying the effect the news had had on me. I smiled, shaking my head.

"Sorry, babe. That's not how we're going to talk."

She shrunk and dropped to her ass, dumbstruck, jerking her bad paw with an involuntary yelp.

"I'm afraid you don't seem to know who you're trying to manipulate," I said. "I am this Temple's First Priest and the God's personal friend. If you need something from me, then we'll have to discuss it on equal terms, no mind games. Let's try it again."

The hound shook her head in disbelief. She gave me an unsure look and repeated haltingly,

"We need... a new home. This area abounds with game. My pack could regain its old powers soon; potentially, if we could find a way to stay here for long enough, we could become the strongest clan in the Rocky Wastelands. What we need is an official permission from the landlord. Somehow my gut feeling tells me it's you. Do let us stay. At least until our pups shed their baby armor."

All that unclaimed power sitting there doing nothing, waiting for my decision. No idea why they'd mistook me for the landlord but something in her words struck a chord besides the usual kind of compassion that we feel for homeless pups. Did she say a clan? We could try, I suppose...

"I've heard your request," I said. "Still, you are a force too threatening to remain a wild independent pack living in the shade of the First Temple," seeing the hound stand up about to say something, I raised my hand, gesturing for her to let me finish. "As the First Priest and clan leader, I am responsible for lives other than my own. It is possible that soon this place will be crowded with people, some of them my own. So what do you suggest I do when you start slaughtering each other? Wait! I'm not finished! So I suggest an alternative solution. You and your clan will swear me your oaths of allegiance. That will automatically change your status to allied which will allow us to join forces against our mutual enemies. That's the only proposition you're getting. Here, catch!"

I clicked on the contract template that I'd thrown together earlier on, securing their junior-partner position in my freshly-baked alliance, and pressed
Send
. I'd wanted it to cover all the relevant rights and liabilities that marginally resembled a liege oath. The contract wasn't meant for NPCs, of course—only for existing clans of real human players. Then again, no one had ever tried to argue with a Hell Hound before, let alone negotiate.

The Infernal creature stared at me trying to second-guess the weird
human's motives. For the first time, someone offered her friendship and protection instead of demanding gold or services. I could almost hear the game's gears crunch as it adapted itself to accommodate another piece of their newborn world puzzle that was forced into its mechanics. It must have, because the Hound had accepted my proposal.

Congratulations! The NPC Clan Hell's Fire has joined your Alliance of The Guards of the First Temple as a junior partner.

You can now summon the Clan's warriors to your service and claim your share of their taxes.

"Excellent!" I gave her a wink as the Hound concentrated on her own feelings, surprised. "Now try to add the Alliance tag."

Answering her bewildered stare, I decided to give her a demonstration. "Watch the name," I poked the imaginary halo over my name where with a minimum amount of willpower a player could conjure up some basic information about the person.