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  With that in mind, I cancelled the placement, and moved it to sit just inside the village entrance, where the new walls would be built. It was built like a bastion, and war was coming, so why not have my strongest building on the front lines?

  I considered what to build more of next. I had enough resources for twenty stone kennels, or fifty wooden kennels. Weighing it up, I decided to go with the stone, as Bri and Ixly’s words of caution about population nagged at me. Maybe they had a point. I didn’t want to think about the water supply issue that I’d first run into. Those wells were not going to be looking healthy.

  I couldn’t help it and I glanced at my water supply. Huh, not as bad as I’d feared. Being a warlock in a dead land, water was a priority, but the added water from Bri’s grove, and Ixly’s swamp made it almost tolerable. I wondered what advantages my dead lands got over their starting area themes.

  I made a mental note that the next thing to be upgraded would be my, now very battered looking, debris hut, and I exited Overseer mode.

  I headed back towards the inn, planning to meet Bri and Ixly, ready for some mighty loot to be grinded out. On the way, I contemplated telling them the plan with the kennels. They’d followed me so far, but would they agree with this? I’d gone all or nothing on a hunch. Although to be honest, no one had any other plan.

  The firing range was the safer option, but I couldn’t see another dozen or so archers holding off the tide of light. Not if they came at us with anything more than melee ground units. And a single Child of Light? Even Hursh couldn’t defeat one with his most powerful followers by his side, all of whom could wreck me, Bri, and Ixly.

  Almost at the inn, something caught my eye. Well, it caught my foot. As I tripped over it.

  ‘Horace! Why is there a corpse in the middle of my village?!’ I shouted, not knowing where the cultist was.

  He appeared by my side remarkably quickly. ‘Master?’

  ‘The corpse, Horace! Whose is it, and why is it here?’

  ‘Yes, of course. That is my corpse, master, but I left it there for you.’

  I looked at the cultist, then I looked at the corpse. ‘Horace, you’re very much alive. That’s not your corpse.’

  ‘Ever observant and astute, master. No, that is not the corpse of myself, but I do own it. It is the Emissary.’

  I looked closer and sure enough, the robes were the same, and the annoyingly smug in his invincibility face was the same.

  ‘He’s not glitched?’

  ‘Correct. About an hour after he died, his natural state returned, and light once again affected him.’

  ‘Well that’s interesting.’

  ‘Criminally interesting, master.’

  ‘Follow up question, Horace.’

  He motioned for me to go ahead.

  ‘Why did I trip over him?’

  ‘Low Agility?’

  ‘Not what I mean.’

  Horace scoffed. ‘I doubt it was your Charisma or Heart. Luck, possibly played a part.’

  ‘Focus, please. Obviously I meant why is he still right here, in the middle of the village. Why hadn’t he disappeared or something?’

  ‘Ahh, I see. Because I haven’t looted him, and as long as a body holds loot, it will not disappear.’

  ‘And why haven’t you looted him?’ I asked casually, as if I didn’t care about the two Life points I just lost from falling over.

  ‘A gift, master. I killed you to kill him, and so I felt it only fair that he be your tribute.’

  I raised my eyebrows and grunted a mild surprise. ‘No complaints from me, I suppose. Still, you could have mentioned it before the collision took place.’

  ‘Apologies, master. I must have forgotten it in my sombre reverie of your unfortunate demise.’

  I searched the corpse. There were two containers – Emissary Robes and Heart.

  I opened the robes first, making my hands go through an automated pat down animation. After a few seconds, a four by six grid appeared, along with two items. I decided to leave the half eaten naterry in the robes. The far more interesting item was a dagger. When I tried to inspect its stats, I simply saw “Dagger. Unidentified”. Now this was interesting. My first unidentified weapon. I removed it from the robes and noticed that it glowed with a faint golden aura. Even more interesting. The Eastern Shadow’s main thing was how light didn’t affect them. Now, the giant Child of Light snake, worm, hydra thing and its little Light Parasites had been very keen on vomiting light. Did this mean that all of their attacks were light-infused? Even the physical?

  ‘Horace, can you take this to–’

  A loud series of clicks and licks drew my attention, and I turned to see the pointy hatted Geeko.

  ‘Ahh.’ I handed the dagger to the expectant lil’ cutie. I said an ineffectual ‘Thank you,’ to his back, as he made a beeline straight back to the marble temple.

  ‘What an odd chap. Anyway, time to get my hands dirty.’

  ‘Would you like a ritualistic knife, master?’

  ‘Hmm? Oh, no that’s…’ I mean, that seemed to just waste time, but happiness could be key in the upcoming fight. ‘Horace. Bring me a congregation. Post haste!’

  As Horace ran around excitedly, I lay the Emissary out in a more dignified manner. I made sure my cultist approved rusty knife was razor sharp – inexplicably, it was – and waited for my audience.

  Over the next few minutes, a small assembly gathered. Mainly cultists, but I did notice a single Geeko, a few Stagodon, and a Fawn or two. They were all wearing the black cultist robes, and I was thankful Bri and Ixly hadn’t taken an issue with that yet.

  Horace appeared with another three cultists in tow and gave me a nod.

  ‘Ladies, gentleman, lizards, sexy centaurs, welcome. I realise that my ways are new and scary. Different. In fact, some of you have gone so far as to state your disagreements. Yes, I hear those rumblings. But I want you to know that everything I’ve done has been for your own good. From my very first order, the hemming of your robes, there were concerns. But can anyone deny the practicality of being able to move faster than a shuffle?’ General murmurs of agreement rippled through the twenty or so people. ‘And look at us now. An actual roof to sleep under instead of caves and trees. An option other than Bubonic Buttercup stew.’ Before anyone could argue, I quickly added, ‘Although that is still an option, if wanted.’ That stalled the naysayers.

  ‘But I’ve gathered you here today for a simple reason. Despite the change and the new, sometimes we must look to the past. Horace looked to the past, and that gave him the knowledge and strength to fight The Eastern Shadow. He knew what enslavement meant because of what had come before. To honour this past, I shall honour your rituals. A sacrifice.’

  I lifted the rusty blade above my head, and plunged it down, skewering the heart.

  A small round of hymnal cheering as the cultists, swept away by the pageantry of the event, fell back on their old ways, their chanting the same as when I’d first stumbled across them.

  ‘All right. Back to work everyone. But remember, your master values you as individuals!’

  Horace sidled up to me. ‘Well said, master.’

  I searched the Emissary’s heart. Inside, much like had been in the other hearts of The Eastern Shadow, was a shadow gem, Except, on inspection, this one was just “shadow gem”. Not a minor one. No idea what that actually meant, but I didn’t have time right now.

  ‘Are you going to wash first?’

  I looked up to see Bri standing over me.

  ‘It doesn’t affect my stats, does it?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. Come on, let’s go. Ixly’s geared and waiting by the lumber mill.’

  He who controls the loot controls Tulgatha. ‘Let the loot flow.’

  Bri didn’t turn back to respond. ‘Please don’t make this weird. We’re just grinding some Mobs.’

  Chapter 30: Fight For Air

  Deep in the heart of the Dead Woods there was something very valuable. It wasn’t a
physical object, and it wasn’t a magical artifact. It was a rope. A binding. A bond. A joint forged in the heat of battle that promised more than in-game stats could provide.

  But when one is talking of metaphorical ropes, one must first consider the physical trappings that might be stopping the mind from freeing itself and allowing this bond to be created.

  Certainly, it turned out that the undead within the Dead Woods had a thing for rope. Some had used vines from the local trees. Some had used twine from lives long past. Some used the chains that had bound them in life, marking them as prisoners – in life, and now in undeath.

  Quiet contemplation of this fact could easily lead to something of a bond with the undead. They were trapped in every sense of the word, much as I was trapped in the HOPE engine. But was I trapped? I could leave any time I wanted, of course. Why, I could have left my apartment and walked out into the real world at any time. If the door hadn’t been jammed, that is. These skeletons probably felt the same way. Perhaps their bonds were self-imposed, and entirely mental.

  One of their bonds, however, was entirely physical. I suppose, if I could bring myself around to thinking about such an inconsequential and insignificant thought, that their chains were wrapped around my neck, starving me of oxygen.

  Oxygen used to seem like an important thing. But now? How long had it been since I last took a breath? Certainly, my Life was draining fast, but did that matter?

  To my left, I could see Bri engaged in a serene, graceful dance for her life. It was beautiful in the same way a rose can enchant the mind, all the while gouging blood from the rough hands around its thorned stem. She didn’t duck and dive, like a lesser being, no. She weaved and dodged, like the angel of battle she was. But Eyes, didn’t she know it.

  Fighting his way through a swarm of skeletons was Ixly. A king among men, and a beast to boot. He had given up using his commanding songs, and his massive war drum was now the stick that beat the hordes into submission. He was shouting and roaring, but my eardrums had burst long ago, and whatever message his reptilian lips carried were lost to me.

  I had fallen to my knees a while back, but now I slumped to my side, the cracked, dead earth making a preferential pillow to the effort of keeping myself upright.

  Oh, yes. The chain around my neck. I followed the long, cold, rusted iron to its conclusion. The skeleton had a length of chain wrapped around its body, curling up its arm, and extending to my neck. In the other hand, a spear of equal, life-ending menace. And a crown upon its head, the only glint of metal that managed to escape the rust.

  Things were not going well.

  We’d been searching for the undead, but they had been the ones to find us. It had been our own fault. We’d walked through a graveyard and the gates to an ancient town before they’d struck. Who knows how long they had tracked us, or if it had been our exploration that spurred them to life. It didn’t seem like we’d live long enough to find out.

  All this for some loot. Was a dagger of +1 stabbiness worth the feeling of suffocation?

  Yet, this skeleton captain at the end of my chain had another aspect to him. Something that didn’t belong. See, these skeletons were as dead as can be. There were no glowing eye sockets, no magical swords, they were bone and rust and death. But this skeleton? He had the touch of darkness to him. Or… the thing behind it had the touch of darkness. Actually, It was pure dark.

  The darkness, finally in position, leapt at the skeleton, with enough real mass to knock it to the ground. The chain around my throat stayed tight. Iron linked chain wasn’t known for its give. Not that it mattered. I had a general inkling that I’d prefer it if the darkness won the fight, but any sort of enthusiasm was far beyond me. At this stage, even general thoughts were a struggle.

  The skeleton, being armed with only a chain and a spear, was at a bit of a loss as to its next move against a foe that was not just within its guard, but was spreading through its very bones. It was a vicious, dispassionate, all consuming, scouring darkness. Its nameplate told me it was “Gurim – Akuma Severo’s pet”.

  Oh yes. My pet. Good.

  Gurim didn’t have the strength to shear or saw a bone in half. But the link between shoulder and humerus? He’d pop those right off. The chain arm fell to the ground. I still couldn’t breathe, but at least it wasn’t tightening any more. Next came the head, which I’m sure would have made a neat popping sound as Gurim wrenched it free from the animated corpse. Finally, the skeleton gave up on all sense, turning the spear on itself and thrusting at Gurim. Gurim, the little devil, parted for the spear, which plunged into the skeleton’s own heart. The skeleton fell apart at the joints, having extinguished its own magical life.

  The little red bar in the corner of my screen was still, more rapidly than ever, being consumed by blackness. Trivial things such as numbers didn’t matter. They were too blurry to focus on. So were my hands. The world, too.

  The blur that was my vision filled with a shifting, glowing, purple blob. I vaguely felt the weight of Gurim settle on my chest. He began to tug at my neck. I felt cold, jagged iron peel away from the grooves it had left. As the first coil released, I felt a warm gush trickle. The second coil. The third and final.

  Air.

  Nothing.

  A moment later I came back to the world. Being so far out of it that air made me pass out could not be a good sign. The blurriness was gone. I had a staggering 2% of my Life left. Gurim bobbed up and down on my chest, waiting for the the next order.

  My Life was returning slowly, the damage from suffocation not permanent. Once I was back to 10% my hearing returned.

  There was a feline roar to my left. Bri was a cat! Ooh, better not let her know I thought that. Bri was an awesome looking, tribally marked, brown were-panther. She was, rather unfortunately for her ego, being pushed back by a mere six skeletons. Being pushed back towards the edge of a cliff.

  To my right, a savage, guttural roar. Ixly was being swarmed by a full dozen. They were climbing over him, daggers rising and falling. His nameplate showed he wasn’t taking much damage, so his song of protection, or whatever bards used, was holding. Still, he seemed the one in more danger simply by weight of numbers.

  I didn’t know enough about either of their abilities to know if they had any grand plan up their sleeves, so I had to go on face value.

  My health was back to 25% and still rising. Time to use this eye of the storm to plan my valiant rescue.

  I cast Shadow Clone to make sure I had my one hit immunity. Gurim was still bobbing happily, so I could ignore Summon Familiar. That left me with Soulburn, Heart Freeze, Malign Influence, and good ol’ Shadowbolt.

  I cast Malign Influence, my aura ability that would give all enemies within five metres -1 to Luck and Mind. It would also make them feel hungry faster, but I didn’t think that would be relevant in combat, and definitely not with skeletons.

  Soulburn was a minor nuke, doing less damage than Shadowbolt, but applying a DOT and a slow.

  Heart Freeze was an instantly cast DOT, doing a small amount of damage, and applying -1 to Agility and Charisma. Again, I didn’t think the minus to Charisma would be a deal breaker here, but combining the slow of Soulburn and the minus to Agility of Heart Freeze sounded like a winner.

  It was a shame I had swapped out Corrupted Tendrils. That AOE damage and slow would have been perfect.

  I was back to 30% and managed to get to my feet. The world spun, but a few staggered steps allowed me to stay standing.

  I turned to Bri, targeted a skeleton and cast Soulburn, my arms automatically moving to the casting animation. “86” pinged off his nameplate, and the DOT and debuff were applied. I followed it up immediately with Heart Freeze, applying the second DOT and status effect. Whatever Bri had done to that skeleton was enough that it didn’t even glance back at me, so I picked the next skeleton in line and repeated the cast sequence.

  Another roar from Ixly. I turned to see him down on one knee. Damn. I’d wanted to hit all of the skeleton
s on Bri with the slows, but Ixly was worse off than I thought. With my health at 50%, I ran towards Ixly, until my Malign Influence aura debuff started appearing under the nameplates of the skeletons.

  I aimed with my hands, and began DOTting up the MOBs. My instant cast Heart Freeze for the minor damage and the minus to agility. Hmm, instant cast it might be, but getting a dozen skeletons – Ixly caved one of their chests in with his mighty war drum – make that eleven skeletons, still took time.

  I needed nukes and plenty of them. I selected an outlier, one of the skeletons that was struggling to actually be involved in the fight because there were simply too many, and launched a Shadowbolt at it. A direct hit got me a bouncing “116” from the skeletons nameplate, and it shuddered with the impact. Definitely more potent than my Soulburn, taking a bit over half of the skeletons Life. It also got me noticed. The skeleton turned, screamed, and ran at me.

  No problem! I set my feet, and cast another Shadowbolt. It fired towards him and “missed”. Oh, Eyes. The Shadowbolt hit another skeleton in the throng, that joined the first in its charge.

  Okay, still had time for one more cast. Maybe. Uhh, better hurry up and cast. I lined up my hands at the leading skeleton, now no more than a few strides from me, with a rather angry looking dagger in its hand. The two second cast time on Shadowbolt suddenly felt like an eternity, and I started thinking about slotting cast time reductions in the Spell Crafting menu. Because I was locked into the animation, and the skeleton had just started to bring the dagger down. It was ignoring my outstretched arm, instead leaping the last few steps, aiming straight for my heart.

  A Dark Lance exploded from the ground at my feet, skewering the skeleton. Gurim. What a beast. As the now unanimated bones showered me, my Shadowbolt released, and thanks to dumb luck, hit the following skeleton, shattering it to pieces.