Path of Spirit (Disgardium Book #6): LitRPG Series, Dan Sugralinov [the reader ebook .TXT] 📗

Chapter 8. Leeroy Jenkins

UNDER THE TREE where Irita and I had kissed, the kobold shaman Ryg’har sat and smoked a roll-up of herbs and dried leaves. It stank like burning rags. It occurred to me that everyone around me was either a chain smoker or an inveterate drunk. Smoke and drink were everywhere. It was a wonder I hadn’t joined them yet…

“Trixie is achieving great things in growing the one fed by the earth-mother,” Ryg’har said significantly as he saw me. “Here, take a puff, chosen one, find peace, enlightenment and…”

“No, thanks,” I refused, familiar with the debuffs that came with it, then went to find the clan manager.

The promised ‘enlightenment’ included Reasonless Paranoia (You feel like you’ve been betrayed!) and Glutton (You could eat an Ursai Elephant!).

“May the Sleeping Gods never wake!” Ryg’har intoned as I left. “I feel that our hopes are empty and the hour of awakening is near…” He fell silent a moment, then whispered urgently: “Shhh..! What’s this? Om-nom-nom…”

I heard a guttural growl behind me. Turning around, I saw the shaman sink his fangs into a well-gnawed boar’s bone. That made sense. All that enlightenment must have made him hungry…

I had only one untested idea left about how I could withstand the cold, and I already didn’t like it because it meant taking a risk. But I had no other choice.

Resistance potions to climate debuffs gave permanent protection. From Disgardium’s very launch, everyone knew Snowstorm’s purpose with that mostly-artificial limitation: to ensure that players didn’t go into zones not intended for low-levels too soon. They said this bought time for the developers finish their work on all the zones without having to rush. They also said climate debuffs had to be added in order to prevent super-fast powerleveling from bugs — like what I did. In any case, everyone was used to the world’s rules.

Until level 100, players could access only a small part of Latteria. The canon reason was that Dis was another world, and even ordinary rain could kill the undying if unprepared. For inhabitants of Dis, it was just ordinary rain, but for the players it was something else: the raindrops pierced straight through their bodies.

After getting to rank one Alchemy, players learned to craft a resistance potion. The rain was no longer dangerous to those who gained immunity, and when the number of immune players reached a critical mass, all newbies began to appear with innate resistance to the icy downpours.

Levels 200+ gave protection against swamp vapors, unlocking the path to the Impassable Swamp that surrounded the settled lands. The 300s allowed one to survive the low oxygen high up in the peaks and cross the Nameless Mountains. After that, progress stagnated for a long time — levels beyond 300 were hard-won, especially thanks to penalties for dying.

All the same, soon players would conquer the Lakharian Desert, too. Someone — Crawler, I hoped — would invent a heat resistance potion, which would be very expensive at first, but then accessible to everyone. And then, when at least 1% of active players (active only, not counting dead and non-citizen accounts) got immunity to the heat, everyone would have it.

As for the cold of Holdest, there was a long time to wait before Crawler reached Alchemy rank seven… I had only one hope left — Cooking. Of course, I could spend a few days to level up the craft and invent new dishes myself, but I didn’t have the time. So I wanted to employ grand masters of the craft who could invent something suitable out of the new ingredients from Holdest. Like, for example, that ointment made from Jantak Weed that reduces the effect of heat debuffs.

The idea of getting the grand masters involved came up when I saw I’d received more royalties from the cooking guild. I’d been searching for my invitation to the Demonic Games and found the message from the guild in my inbox. Line by line, it showed how much I’d earned and what for.

The highest earners were the recipes Fried Spicy Stone Grabber Stuffed with Herbs (+50 charisma; significantly increases attractiveness to opposite sex; creates the appearance of youth) and Well-Done Carp in Sour Cream (restores 20 health; +10% mana recovery speed). Dishes created with the first recipe were often used by NPCs, while the carp was popular among noobs. The recipe itself also got bought plenty thanks to the wide availability of the ingredients. On the other hand, Miner’s Fish Soup (+1 strength, -1 strength) and Marinated Filet of Swamp Bighead with Onion and Herbs (+10 to highest main stat for 3 hours) were almost untouched. The fish soup gave nothing, and the swamp bighead meat was hard to farm — few enjoyed playing while up to their ears in swamp water.

In total, the royalties over the half a year amounted to almost fifteen thousand gold — just last year, I’d have lost my mind over that kind of money. Not so much now… And that was why I didn’t share my new recipes.

I saw the name of the hobbit Jenkins in my small list of friends. Right after my victory in the weekly cooking tournament, his friend Oliver gave me a Kaizen Chef Knife, and Jenkins himself had said: Add me to your friends list, Scyth. Once you leave the sandbox, get in touch. My colleagues and I meet up once per month in one of our restaurants to share secrets.

Recalling the hobbit and deciding to speak to him, I contacted Grokuszuid. I asked him to help me with a place where I could safely meet someone face to face. After thinking for a moment, the goblin suggested a special room in the ASS, which could only be reached in the company of an auction employee.

“Sometimes our clients have disagreements,” he explained. “They solve them in this hall.”