To avoid being noticed using the obelisk and passing through the camp, Peter took the secret passages. Warping and Stealthing were now second nature, and his decision was made easy by the rendezvous point, the bar on the beach. Redroar was already there, sipping on a beer.
“Howdy,” she saluted.
“Hey.”
“Anything to drink?” the barman asked. “On the house.”
“I’m fine, thanks. So, what do you have in mind?” Peter asked because it was the barbarian who had insisted on meeting there.
“Do you remember your doppelganger hired me to hunt a group of bandits?” Redroar said.
“The day we went for the dragon, right?”
“Yep. I got a few but couldn’t find their base until now. He did it,” she pointed to the bartender.
“I was a police detective before the Awakening. I could tell stories that would make your hair go white,” the man said. “Or laugh. Or both. Depends.”
“What about the bandits?” Peter asked directly. He liked detective stories, but training took priority.
“They attack our best transports like they know in advance. It means they bought some of our people. I put a tracker on a guy I suspect to be the snitch. He went to this place repeatedly,” he said, showing Peter a map on his phone screen.
“There’s nothing there,” Peter frowned. He knew the place, seeing it often from the air. Starting a few miles southeast of the camp and going south were only forests and hills for miles and miles.
“It’s a rendez-vous point. They’re meeting somebody to pass on the information,” Redroar said. “So, the training will consist of helping me with the bandits. “We track them, find their base, and take them alive, if possible. Pays better. ‘Cause they can tell us about other bandits.”
“C’mon! You’re using me to make easy money again. I want to train in one-to-one—”
“Later. Why are you complaining like a little cub? If you learn to handle multiple targets simultaneously, you’ll be able to deal with one easily,” Redroar said. “Now … last time I checked, you still owe me money from the Minotaur core. Have you sold it already?”
The core was long gone, used in vaccines, and Peter didn’t even remember if he had paid the lioness her part. “Here,” he pushed her a roll of twenty-five one-ounce coins. It was the bribe Kostel had asked for, which Peter did not intend to pay. On the other hand, he did have in mind to pay the bet at some point. Gentlemen had to keep promises, even if their loud mouths got them into trouble, and now Kostel had a large and lively family on his hands.
“Let’s go,” Redroar said. “Beam us up, Scotty!”
“You watch human shows?” Peter gasped.
“We have cable, we’re not savages,” she snorted.
“What do you like best?”
“I dunno,” Redroar frowned. “Maybe the Universal Stormtrooper Two. The hero, Narold Shwartzenjager, fights the villain Jean Claude—”
“Goodness! You’re watching Second Floor Nazi shows? Nazis are bad!”
“They’re good in their movies,” Redroar shrugged.
“It’s called propaganda! You shouldn’t… Never mind. Who put this bounty, anyway? I don’t want to work for the Gestapo by mistake,” Peter sneered. “What if those bandits are the good guys. Robin Hoods and—”
“Trust me, they ain’t,” the barman said. “And the bounty is issued by the company. No politics.”
“I’ll help, but we take them alive, and if I think they’re good guys, we let them go,” Peter raised a finger in warning.
“Sure, little cub!” Redroar creased her nose in disdain, patting Peter’s head. “Brings me more money bringing them alive, so…”
After a brief exchange of snorting and eye-rolling, Peter Warped them away and reached the spot in no time. It was a matter of twelve miles or so. However, as Peter had said, there was nothing there.
Redroar began sniffing the air, and Peter used his Insight. He didn’t get anything. However, his companion led the way to a rock formation. “The scent stops here,” she said.
“You think it’s one of those portals?” Peter asked, trying to push his hand through the stone. It didn’t work.
Gesturing to Redoar to move laterally, Peter did the same, pushing the resort with his left hand, the gun ready in his right.
“What do you know?” the lioness nodded after the aperture opened, and she inspected what was behind it. “Here’s their base.”
“No guards?” Peter wondered, peeking inside. A tunnel was going on, with a few lights lit here and there. “They sure are lax.”
“What kind of bandits take the pain to dig so much rock?” Redroar wondered, touching the walls. The stone was smooth, and the tunnel was at least a few hundred feet long.
“Maybe they used Earth magic,” Peter said. “I could go scout in Stealth.”
“Good idea, my friend. Good Idea. Be careful; there’re a lot of scents ahead.”
They advanced cautiously for the first hundred feet, then Peter signaled Redroar to stop and went on. Another hundred feet further, the tunnel opened into a vast cave, where the stone appeared to have been cut clean in some parts and left alone in others. He hid in the shadows of a limestone column and inspected the premises.
Peter’s mind barely registered the words. The mystery behind the lack of guards was revealed. Everyone was there, dozens of people—humans and lion folk—armed to the teeth, their backs turned toward the end of the cave, where a tall man was doing a PowerPoint presentation, using one of the smooth portions of the cave’s wall as a screen.
“The first team will attack the warehouses; it will attract the guards,” the man pointed a beam at a map showing the Floor Two nearby camp. Once the target exits his house, the ranged team engages. If he survives, Martochlin and I will remedy that. Take a look at the target’s face. If he’s seen in places other than the established perimeters, you will signal his presence but not engage.”
“The fuck?” Peter blurted, slapping his mouth the next second. Two photos had appeared on the wall. One was his picture, helmet on, with a text superposed: Impulse, the Bounty Hunter. Wanted Dead or Alive. 2.000 gold oz. The next one had his doppelganger’s image: Pete Dillhen, 25.
“Who’s there?” the tall man yelled.
Shit, he heard me!
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
A broad-shouldered person moved out from the group, joining the tall man. It was a dwarf by all standards. Chainmail armor, a helmet, a huge beard, and a shield fixed on his right arm. The dwarf opened his mouth, and a pulsating, deep sound hurt Peter’s head.
“Who’s there?” the dwarf reiterated the question at the end of his attack.
“No one!” Peter replied, feeling proud of himself for a moment, then wailing on the inside.
You’ve been debuffed: Dazed and Confused. Your Stealth has been canceled. A Sonar Wave has detected your location.
Shiiiiiit!
“Get him!” the dwarf pointed at the column.
The next second, bullets flew all over the place, and stun grenades exploded near Peter. His ears rang, and he felt dizzy. The column provided some cover, but the bandits moved laterally, keeping shooting. However, Peter’s True Aura activated instinctively and soaked the damage.
A tower shield descended in front of his body. Somebody roared. “Move your ass!” Redroar, it was her voice. The lioness pulled Peter by the elbow, walking backward, trying to reach the tunnel. A slab of rock fell in front of the entrance, enveloped in a blue light. “Fuck!” Redroar hissed, now aiming for a thicker column.
Snatching himself from the surprise, Peter called his gun and started firing blindly, emptying his magazines before reaching the new cover. There were a few You have slain notifications that disappeared immediately.
“What happened?” Peter screamed, putting back the pistol and taking out an AR-15. “How the hell do they know?”
Redroar shook his arm. “We have to move; they’re surrounding us. At the count of three, run to the stalagmite on our right! One, two, three, now!”
Redroar jumped out of cover, moving to the indicated location without hesitation. Peter did follow her, though, but as the bulk of the fire followed her, he observed the locations of some shooters. He hung the rifle over his shoulder, quickly called his javelins in quick succession, and threw them at the ceiling, enhancing the throw with Kinetic Impulse and making stalactites fall, crushing many foes underneath. When he and Redroar reached cover, Peter unleashed a conic Terravolt attack on the few enemies coming from behind. The lioness was moving her shield to the left and right, intercepting bullets, leaving the fighting to Peter.
<80/100 remaining. Engage to four o’clock.>
A mini-map appeared on his HUD, filled with red dots. There were more of them in the suggested direction, not less, as he had expected.
“Cover my back!” Peter shouted, throwing his AR to Redroar.
She correctly discovered it was just a point-and-shoot matter and emptied the gun in ten seconds. It was all Peter needed. He ran with large strides, jumping a few yards at a time, taking his cleaver polearm in hand.
The enemies were grouped together, and he landed in their midst. There was no thought anymore, just action and reaction. At the same time as unleashing a circular Terravolt, Peter’s cleaver slit throats, he headbutted skulls, and his kicks destroyed groins or ribcages.
<58/100. Mana at 50%.>
Ducking behind a mound of corpses, Peter took out some grenades from his inventory and threw them wherever except in Redroar’s direction. Then, he yelled. “I’m out of Mana!”
Taking the bait, the foes jumped forward. A Terravolt later, half were killed.
His muscles were aching from the stress and Mana depletion. Stealthing and moving away was the best solution. He ate a Mana Pill on the way. His MPs started to grow slowly. Redroar’s shape flashed in the middle of the remaining enemies, flourishing her greatsword at tremendous speed. Ten seconds later, all lay on the ground, but the lioness was on her knees, applying pressure to a wound in her shoulder, and there were more cuts all over her body.
<8/100 enemies remaining. Update: 2/100 enemies remaining. Six wounded had expired.>
There was a moment of silence, and then, the tall man and the dwarf advanced casually. Before they reached Redroar, Peter exited his hiding as well, putting himself in front of the barbarian. The duo stopped twenty feet from Peter.
“Martochlin, defenses,” the tall man said. The dwarf growled a deep guttural sound, and a sheet of blue light appeared over him and his partner. “How’s your Mana, Impulse? Empty?”
It was at five percent, but it was not the moment to admit it. “Nah,” Peter smirked. “You’re done. You’ll soon join your pals, dude.”
“Pals?” the man frowned.
“It means comrades,” the dwarf explained.
“They were not pals,” the elf shrugged. “They were cannon fodder, meant to do just what they did: sap your resources. I’ll make you a deal: Pay us the same amount as the bounty, and we’ll let you live.”
Yeah, Miss Fletcher, I bet they are. Peter clenched his teeth, pretending he was thinking about the offer.
“What about half?” Peter said to buy time, doing as Fafnir told and pushing points into Intelligence. There was no jolt of pain, no shiver, nothing.
The Elf shook his head.
Peter dashed forward, changing the shape of his spear on the way. Everything was going on in slow motion. The Elf was raising his right hand, and the dwarf was opening his mouth. A flicker in the Tank’s protection shield showed Peter the moment the dwarf would shout some taunt. He lengthened his weapon into a long spear with a sharp point, imbuing it with Lightning damage and thrusting inside the dwarf’s mouth and through the brain. The added electricity made the Tank’s skull disintegrate.
A beam of light shot out from the Elf's hand, and at the same time, the Wizard glided back, taking distance. Peter ducked, anticipating the trajectory from the arm’s movement, a second before it happened. In a blink, the projectile destroyed a limestone column, but Peter had his recharged gun in hand by then. He shot three times, waiting to see if the Kinetic Impulse-enhanced bullets passed the forcefield. With the dwarf dead, there wasn’t one anymore.
You have slain Martochlin, Tank. Estimated Lvl. 100. Estimated tier: Rare.
There was no need for the skill, though. “Mercy,” the elf begged, falling on his knees, half his chest gone.
“How did you get into the Tower,” Peter asked.
“Convoys… Trade… Once a… m—” The Elf’s face froze in motion, and he collapsed in a heap.
You have killed Unknown Elf, Wizard. Estimated Lvl. 100. Estimated tier: Rare. Level up x3.
“Shit, he’s dead,” Peter sighed, reproaching himself for not giving the Elf a Health Pill first to interrogate him later.
“Your guiding was smooth, and the Intelligence Perk is good,” Peter said.
“I’ll take you at your word,” Peter said, going to Redroar. She looked pale but stable. “Health Pill?” he offered.
She took the pill and gobbled it in one motion. “You’ll pay me for that, right?” she waved her hand at the surrounding dead bodies. “We were supposed to take them alive.”
“Stop thinking only about money,” Peter said grimly. He knew he had to put the scene online to divert attention from his doppelganger.
“I see,” Peter looked into the screen. His helmet didn’t look like a normal ballistic protection anymore. It had intricate layers of patterns and runes. He guessed some were from the Minotaur dungeon, and others added later, maybe just then.
“Some stupid thieves thought I was some random biker guy,” Peter said to the camera. “What can I say? They were wrong. Not every dude with a black helmet is me.”
He turned the camera around and walked among the dead, starting with the beheaded dwarf and the elf, avoiding showing Redroar and the screen with his double’s face. If some people still suspected the doppelganger was Impulse, they now had proof he was not; there was no point in giving others the idea to double-check. He repressed an impulse to retch. He was OK with killing in self-defense, but the gore around was a bit too much for any stomach.
“I don’t intend to kill thousands,” Peter hissed, inspecting his stats. “From now on, we stick to getting the ring as smoothly as possible.”
For killing a large number of enemies in a single fight, you have received +2 to each available stat.
Overall levels gained: 10
For inspiring true friendship and self-sacrifice to one of your allies, Charisma +10.
Peter Hillden, age: 25, Class: Impulse, Lvl. 81 (10 APs available)
Strength: 100 / Dexterity: 100 / Constitution: 65
Intelligence: 100/ Will: 63 / Concentration: 53
Charisma: 78 / Luck: 100 / Magic Power: 63
“True friendship and self-sacrifice?” Peter furrowed his brow.
He looked toward the barbarian. Sitting on the ground, she was heaving, still weakened. There was only one way to cheer her up. “How much loot do you think we’ll find?” Peter asked, going to the Elf and taking a purse from his belt, shaking it. The clinking inside was typical of gold coins.
“I’ll take half plus ten ounces,” the lioness rushed to say. “That was some good training.”