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

“Just twenty thousand?” I sighed in relief.

“You can’t pay,” everyone else in the room said almost at once. “Slippery slope,” Willy added.

“That’s right,” Hairo nodded. “He’s just testing us, feeling us out. If we show weakness and pay, then he’ll come back tomorrow asking for more. And more, and more. It’ll all end in a bloodbath and they’ll take everything we have.”

“And that means we make it a bloodbath first,” Willy grinned, rubbing his hands. “Preemptive strike.”

“Yeah, but first we need Alex’s agreement.” Hairo stared at me. “You remember me telling you about the Wild Ones? Non-citizens with nothing left to lose. They live in ruins in the Zones. Willy and I have friends there. The people there are desperate and know how to fight. Some are vets. They have enough people to populate the lower and upper floors. But they can’t pay rent.”

“Will they play?” I asked, thinking that we’d need to buy a lot more capsules if we were getting more people.

“Some, not all. We have a little war brewing with Aranzabal, so don’t rely on them in Dis for now.”

“You have my all-clear.”

“Then here’s a list for confirmation.” Hairo brought up an expenses sheet from his comm. “Medical capsule, autodocks, equipment, two Sharks, guns and rounds, equipment…”

When he finished listing the items and announced the total cost, Roj whistled:

“Enough for a small army…”

Watching as the intragel quickly filled up my capsule, I decided the first thing to do was set up that meeting I’d promised to Crawler and Irita, to discuss raising the clan’s income. Our expenses were going up, and most of them weren’t one-time deals, but ongoing.

But as soon as I logged into Dis, Hinterleaf messaged me: “The Supreme Corpse has left the desert. He’s headed for Vermillion.” “On my way,” I answered, activating Depths Teleportation.

Sorry, clanmates, we’ll have to meet another day.

The first phase of Operation Anti-Undead has begun.

Chapter 12. Don’t Look For Meaning Where There Is None

LEVEL FIFTEEN Imitation gave me the ability to turn into whoever I wanted. I could choose any game race, class, nick, clan and even appearance. I could only guess what the next level of the skill might offer. But when I saw it with my own eyes, I canceled my teleport cast to the desert in shock.

The level-up came right after I came up with a disguise as a humongous barbarian called Seamus, wearing a bearskin, with hair down to his shoulders and bulging muscles:

Imitation level increased: +1! Current level: 16.

From now on, your imitated or invented form is capable of fooling even identification artifacts. But be careful not to abuse this ability; the gods and the Celestial Arbitration see your true nature.

I doubted the gods and Arbiters would be waiting for me in Vermillion. To save time, I decided to meet Mogwai there. I told Hinterleaf what nick I’d be using and headed straight for the fort, where I was supposed to be met and backed up by a Modus observer — just in case the situation started to go off plan.

As soon as I appeared at the town hall, a piercing cry rang out, deafening even the sound of the alarm bell:

“Praise Fortune, more reinforcements!”

The shouter was a city watchman who thought we were going to be fighting shoulder to shoulder. Yes, we were reinforcements, but my help would come in a different form.

I looked around, seeking people from Modus, but the street was empty. Everyone seemed to be off defending the city walls.

In the meantime, the watchman who had praised Fortune came closer, raised his helmet visor and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked me up and down and spoke:

“Hey, newcomer! What’s your name… Seamus, huh? Level hundred and seven? Ah, too low…”

“It’s all I have. What about you?! You’re only seventy-eight,” I murmured. “Where’re the undead?”

The watchman pointed the way, but I studied the man himself. His name was Ehehe. Memories of my first day in the desert swam to the fore… That’s it! This was the same man Zoran and I met in the Vermillion city council. He’d been walking around in nothing but underwear back then. Now, judging by his status, he’d joined the city guard, and nothing was left of the much-ganked shaman.

His high-quality rare equipment, which looked like it had been issued by the garrison quartermaster, was clean enough to use as a mirror. A rough green wooden shield hung from his back, which didn’t seem part of the equipment set given to the guard. Or maybe he just got whatever was there. As he kept talking, his constant hand gestures made his sword dance out of its basilisk-skin scabbard and hit him in the side:

“The big boss legate is bringing his horde here, Seamus. We asked Darant for aid, but they don’t seem in a hurry to get here. Have you come to help?”

“Sure have… Listen, you’re a player, right?” I feigned surprise. “How did you end up in the watch? I mean, why? You can’t even leave the garrison. That’s no game, more like…”

“Army service. Right. I’m serving and gathering Honor Points,” Ehehe answered. “Watchmen get a three-times bonus… Anyway, enough talk. Head to the walls, soldier. When you see a fountain, keep heading for Fortune’s temple, and from there to the city walls.”

“What about you?” I asked.

A tall elf in a green mantle soundlessly jumped down from the roof of a nearby building — Koba, a hunter from Modus. He tapped his wrist and I nodded slightly to show I understood.

Ehehe didn’t notice the gesture.

“I’m completing a quest,” he answered. “I wouldn’t be much help on the walls, so the chief told me to point the way for any new arrivals.”

A group of heavily armored players walked out of