The Way of the Outcast (Mirror World Book #3) LitRPG series Read online

  Which left me with a problem. The Wiki had nothing on Ennans: nada, zilch, zero. In other words, the only person who was qualified to add entries about Ennans was yours truly.

  So I had to switch to my "cousins": the dwarves and gnomes.

  Now... where were they?

  A click of the mouse summoned a fearsome-looking bearded dwarf. In his powerful suit of armor, he looked twice as big as he really was, which in turn made his head seem disproportionally small.

  And how about gnomes? Same, really. If anything, they appeared even more menacing.

  Now let's check the classes available to me.

  I wanted the standard package. Close combat, magic attacks, distance weapons, this sort of thing.

  Close combat was more or less clear. I wasn’t going to be much good at it, period. I couldn't even imagine myself brandishing a dwarven battle axe or a gnome's hammer. Besides, what was the point in having heavy weapons if I had my Boris? Despite his zero level, he already had a whole cartload of Stamina points. And once his experience began to grow... and once I bought him a purpose-built set of gear... what would happen then? Oh no, forget close combat.

  This wasn't the problem. Problem was, I'd be constantly on my own — and far behind enemy lines, too, surrounded by the most dangerous wildlife that existed in the game. I had to decide how best to capitalize on everything I already had. Which was quite a lot, actually.

  Had I been a member in an established and — which was equally important — strong group, I wouldn't have had to ponder over this dilemma. But as it was, I had to start thinking about creating my own team which, although small, had to be promising.

  Judging by the bits of description I'd managed to piece together from all sorts of sources, all mounts were basically fighters: strong, fit and extremely tenacious. In gamers' lingo, they were tanks. In other words, having Boris in my group, I could forget close combat: I just didn't fit in the picture myself — neither as a heavily-armed warrior nor as a light ambidextrous one.

  In all honesty, my first urge was to concentrate on magic classes. That way, Boris could make mincemeat out of our enemies while I could heal and support him. But in thinking so, I'd completely overlooked our last but by no means least team member: Prankster. Providing magic support for the group was apparently his job — as part of his pet class. At least that's what all Mirror World experts said. The phrase used by the Wiki, "a healer and a buffer rolled into one", seemed to describe Prankster's potential perfectly well once I'd managed to translate it into normal human parlance. To put it short, the higher my level, the more useful would my little menagerie be.

  I had a tank. I also had a buffer/healer. Now I had to decide how I could fit into it.

  Oh, well. Let's have a look.

  I clicked through to a picture of a gnome in light armor. He clenched a monstrous crossbow fitted with optical sights and a complex set of gear wheels. A bagful of bolts and screws dangled from his belt.

  I immediately thought about the Caltean attack in the Citadel and the gnome fighting the "hedgehog". He'd been the last man standing, perfectly alive when all other players including the top-level wizard had already kicked the bucket. He'd even managed to bid a hasty retreat when the going had gotten really tough.

  I liked this crossbowman. He was light and agile. A distance weapon: exactly what our little group needed in order to be full of surprises. That's settled, then.

  I needed to check out this class with other races, too, to find out all its pros and cons: what weapons they could use, etc.

  The gnome was more or less clear. Now the dwarf.

  A stocky black-bearded guy, clenching an arbalest. Same as a crossbow: different name, slightly bulkier and heavier.

  Humans and Alves were archers; Dwandes excelled at dart throwing. Large races didn't seem to have this class at all.

  Having spent a good half-hour studying the facts, I'd finally come to the following conclusion: if one wanted to use distance weapons, he couldn't do better than choosing the Alven race.

  Undoubtedly, forest dwellers had their drawbacks. Their gear was flimsy to say the least. If an Alven archer was forced to engage in a hand-to-hand, he wouldn't last long. Even a dart-throwing Dwand could make quick work of him.

  Still, their gear's shortcomings were more than compensated by excellent Range, Precision and Rate of Fire bonuses. No other race had anything like them.

  A gnome crossbowman's gear was virtually the same as that of a Human swordsman but the former had serious problems in regards to his Range and Rate of Fire. Still, if a gnome's bolt hit the target it could deal just as much damage as a proverbial cannonball.

  Humans really didn't impress in any of these respects. Their domain was magic and witchcraft. If I'd understood it well, Humans were the best wizards in Mirror World.

  The further I read, the fewer illusions I had about the information's seemingly chaotic nature. Everything had in fact turned out very logical and organized.

  There was a certain balance between classes and anti-classes. This in itself made the gameplay much more interesting and, let's be honest, more intelligent. Once you'd chosen Mirror World, you had to be ready for a learning curve. Now I had some idea of the sheer amount of guidebooks and manuals a potential player had to peruse before even entering his new virtual home. You couldn't expect to conquer this world by sheer enthusiasm. An arrogant newb wouldn't last five minutes against more advanced and prepared ones.

  Normally, at this point I would be racked by doubt. How sure was I that I had to get into it all? Was I even up to it? Playing was one thing but this wasn’t my case. I was about to become the epicenter of a future war the likes of which Mirror World hadn't yet seen.

  In any other situation I'd have already had my brains in a twist with worry. But right now I felt something totally different. I wouldn't say I wasn't afraid. Still, this wasn't fear fear. I felt a little anxious but that was normal, I suppose.

  Also, this strange mix of emotions betrayed some sort of fighting spirit. How strange. I'd never have thought I'd experience something like this.

  An insistent incoming call distracted me from my research. The phone's panel lit up with the word, Brother.

  I pressed Accept. "Hi there."

  "Hi," Dmitry's voice was typically brusque and serious. "How are you?"

  "Fine today. I'm busy now studying your leads."

  "Wrap it up, man. End of boot camp. Time to go to the front line."

  "Great. You coming?"

  "No. I might burn your cover."

  "You think they'd stoop so low as to spy on somebody in the real world?" I asked, doubtful.

  "They might," Dmitry said with confidence. "We'd better play it safe and bide our time. As soon as they find out you're off the hook, all hell will break loose. So this week you'll have to work hard, I'm afraid. Make sure you don't overexert yourself. Knowing your tendency to self-destruct..."

  "I'll be careful, I promise."

  "Good," he heaved a sigh. "Now, location. Have you decided on anything?"

  "I have. The Nameless Isles."

  "Good choice. There're at least twenty of them there. Easy to get lost. Their mobs are low-level, too. A newb location. You'll level up to 30 easy."

  "Sure. And what's even better, there're no Steel Shirts there."

  "The fact that they use their own lands to level up their recruits says nothing," Dmitry warned. "Keep your eyes peeled. Good luck!"

  "Thanks, man."

  "You've done good," he added. "The Nameless Isles are a good choice. Over and out," he hung up.

  I nodded to myself. Indeed, the Nameless Isles were a godsend.

  When I'd first tried to come up with a plan, I'd asked myself: where was I supposed to begin? No-Man's Lands didn't sound too promising. I couldn't expect to level up my current char properly there. Hoping for a streak of good luck wasn't an option.

  All Lands of Light had been carved up between clans who were bound to notice my presence pretty soon.
I'd even had a crazy idea to fly over to the Dark side at night and level up there. But that was risky.

  My grand plans had ground to a halt.

  That's when I'd turned to Dmitry for advice. He explained that when the game had still been in its infancy, the developers had come up with special locations they used to help combat classes grow and evolve. Those nurseries were some sort of training ground for inexperienced players, complete with low-level mobs and simple quests issued by NPCs.

  That was all good and well, with one drawback, or so players said. The developers had apparently decided to add a fly to the ointment simply to make sure life wasn't all fun and games for newcomers. Nothing critical: just slight fluctuations in weather conditions. At North Ridge, for instance, there were occasional ground frosts and snowfalls. The Snake Desert had hot spells. And the Nameless Isles were known for their rains. Well, rains — more like sunshowers.

  But newbs in their starting clothes hadn't appreciated weather fluctuations. They'd absolutely flooded Support with protests and complaints saying that the game developers were applying pressure to players, forcing them to buy expensive runes, elemental protection or even cloaks. The developers had turned a deaf ear to their pleas — for which I was now eternally grateful.

  Over time, the flood of complaints had subsided. Newb locations stood abandoned.

  How had it happened?

  Easy. After the end of the clan wars, all Lands of Light had been divided between the strongest clans. New castles had been erected in locations with neutral climates, promptly surrounded by new towns and villages. Now why would you suffer in silence, freezing to near death or getting soaked when there were more comfortable locations available?

  Dmitry had forwarded me the classified login data. Apparently, the old newb locations had only 2% of all game logins. The remaining 98% players chose to log in to clan-controlled territories.

  That was perfect.

  According to Dmitry, I had the choice of three types of locations: cold, hot or rainy. And as much as I hated the latter, I'd had to choose it in the end.

  Having no Anti-Heat protection, I'd immediately rejected the Snake Desert. For a while I'd been quite serious about the North Ridge: I'd already had rain up to here. Besides, I'd already had my Anti-Frost protection, anyway — I'd installed it before my first trip to No-Man's Lands.

  But that was before I'd seen the map.

  The North Ridge was a long narrow hill range stretching all along the border, smooth-sloped and gently-rounded. The Nameless Isles, however, were a smattering of islets big and small in the southern part of the Great Ocean. It offered much better protection from any prying eyes.

  I'd also found out that the North Ridge was exactly where the remaining 2% of players chose to log in. Apparently, I wasn't the only person averse to humidity. Then again, how was I to know?

  Never mind. Enough research. Time to go downstairs. My module awaited me.

  I rode the elevator alone, studying my gaunt aspect in the mirror. I'd seen corpses with better complexions. Having said that, compared to my first day offline I was as fit as a fiddle. I could even walk unassisted now. I had no need for crutches anymore.

  The elevator dinged softly, announcing its arrival at the first floor.

  The corridor was flooded with light.

  It was busy here. So many operators! Their lab coats were everywhere. You could tell this was a VIP center.

  Having said that, if the game developers weren't entitled to it, who was?

  Would they kick me out of here once I'd completed my mission? Or would they allow me to stay? Too early to even think about it.

  This center was exactly why I'd had to move town. Dmitry had simply ordered me to do it. After I'd told him about the bank's offer and the fake Pierrot, my brother had grown even more focused. Without him, I wouldn't have gotten very far at all.

  "Olgerd?"

  I turned around. A girl stood behind me. About twenty-five, lab coat, pale-blue doctor's hat. The name tag on her chest said Irene.

  I nodded. "That's me. Hi."

  "Hi. You ready?"

  "Sure."

  "Let's go, then."

  My new "coffin" wasn't too far. We reached the end of the corridor, then entered a hall.

  There were other capsules there, all closed. They looked like nothing I'd used in the past. Even though I was no technical expert, I could see these were the latest top-of-the-range models.

  "There it is," she pointed at the only open capsule.

  The familiar purple goo welcomed me, enveloping my body. "Mind if I ask?"

  "Absolutely," she said without taking her eyes from the screen.

  "Is it my imagination or has something changed? I feel as if I've been dropped into jelly. Just please don't use science speak."

  She smiled. "This is the latest model. To put it plainly, in earlier versions we had to use a gel bed which vibrated-"

  "-to prevent bedsores," I helpfully offered.

  She nodded. "Exactly. But now we have this special type of gel which envelops your whole body, sending electric impulses through it. Which is a very healthy idea. And as a bonus, it adds new sensations to your virtual experience."

  "Oh. I'm curious."

  I'd have dearly loved to ask her a few more questions but she beat me to it,

  "That's it, Oleg. Let's initiate the immersion procedure."

  Her delicate fingers ran over the screen, tapping the invisible keyboard. The lid began to lower.

  "Good luck," Irene smiled. "Enjoy your immersion!"

  "Thanks," I whispered back.

  A few moments later, the already-familiar void embraced me.

  Silence. Darkness.

  I glimpsed a flicker of light approaching faster and faster, accelerating toward me.

  Before I could even blink, the light took me in.

  Still no sounds. I looked around me. Where was I?

  A round room, about five paces wide. A stone floor. Torches burning on the walls. No windows.

  I raised my head. Powerful wooden beams supported a gloomy vaulted ceiling. This could be one of the Citadel's towers, only without their characteristic arrowslits.

  Greetings, Olgerd! Welcome back to Mirror World!

  In order to fully experience the beauty of our world, complete the registration of your Bronze account!

  Register now: Accept/Decline

  Accept.

  Congratulations! Your registration is now complete!

  Would you like to choose a new class?

  Absolutely.

  My heart missed a beat. Even though I'd already made up my mind, I had a nasty feeling I'd forgotten something important.

  Generating your character's settings and characteristics should take less than a minute. Please wait.

  Of course. This was a new race. Did that make me some sort of pioneer? Never mind. I could wait. The halo around my head won't fall.

  Jesus. Their minute was taking quite a while.

  Sorry about the delay! Your character's settings have been reset.

  Would you like to continue: Yes/No

  About time! I heaved a sigh and pressed Yes, ready to face an exhaustive list of various combat classes.

  Wait a sec. What the hell was this? Was it some kind of mistake?

  A holographic image of my Ennan char clad in a simple starting kit appeared at the room's center. But it wasn't his clothes that had thrown me. I had all my gear safe in my bag. It was the class list. It consisted of only one entry:

  Army Mechanic

  My hands shook as I went through the settings. It couldn't be. What, only one class?

  I looked at my Ennan. He stood there legs akimbo, hands on his hips, grinning from ear to ear. Who the hell did he think he was?

  Wait a sec... what on earth was this? I took another look at my first weapon dangling from his belt.

  Damn. I looked up at the powers that be and heaved a fatalistic sigh. "A slingshot? You have to be joking, right? You want me
to conquer No-Man's Lands with a freakin' slingshot?"

  Chapter Two

  Calm down, Olgerd.

  Take a deep breath. No need to panic.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  Like that... good.

  Now let's have a look.

  A mechanic, so what? So I hadn't gotten an archer or a crossbowman. What was my problem? That they didn't have suitable classes?

  Big deal. Take Narchs, for instance: they had four arms, of all things. I dreaded to think how they managed, but apparently they did. Quite successfully too, judging by the Plateau battle. Very efficiently, if I may say so.

  Oh, and here was a parchment scroll containing my Lore Info. It was ancient and yellowed.

  It happened in early fall, just as I traveled the foothills of the Steely Mountains. I was visiting my friend Rold from the Tinkh people. His folk were nothing really special. Just some Ennans living in a village. They kept themselves to themselves. Never took part in any feuds or clan wars. They worshipped the Lord of the Underworld.

  Contrary to what people usually think, their clan lived by trade, not by mining or smithing. It might actually have been one of the reasons for their isolation.

  So one night as he sat by the fire warming his aching joints and smoking his best old pipe, Rold told me about some tragic recent events.

  As it turned out, one of the oldest clans in the whole of the Steely Mountains had recently ceased to exist. The Tinkhs didn't know much about what had happened there. Some said that the Der Swyor miners had come across a rich vein. Others said that the clan leader had behaved disrespectfully at the last Elders Council. But my friend Rold, he thought that it was all about Master Grilby who must have uncovered the ancient secret of raising people from the dead.

  Here the text paused. The whole of the next paragraph was blurred as if whoever had written it had spilled some liquid onto the parchment. Whether he'd done so accidentally or for a reason, I couldn't say. I moved on to the next paragraph.