The author: RosPer
Reader’s note
“Alfarome: Volper”
What can you do when you only have two years left under the
sun? You can, for instance, keep to yourself and lose all
contact with reality. You can spend all this remaining time
feeling sorry for yourself and crying… But I decided to act in
a completely different way: if you have just a few years left to
live, then why not enjoy yourself to the fullest? But how
would I do that? It’s a piece of cake, since there is a virtual
reality I can run to. And, as I’ve found out, there is a new
project being launched pretty soon, about which only scarce
info has been given by different sources.
“Are you fed up with elves, gnomes and other typical races
from fantasy novels for teenagers? Sick and tired of reading
about medieval battles and life in those dark times? Then,
welcome to Alfarome! What’s in store for you here? It’s a
brand new game, in the genre of post-apocalyptic cyberpunk,
that tests your endurance! And what else can you hope for?
That’s top secret, because any information can bring you
money and you could make loads of it in the game! “©
The only information available is on the official website of the
game Alfarome.
Well, I’d love to go back to the old good days, when I was
young and hale. Taking into account my past, this kind of
virtual world will be just perfect for me!
Illustrations and Pictures: Alexandra Tarko
Translate: Anton Raksha
Proof-reading: John King
Proof-reading: Damir Isovic

CHAPTER I: IT’S JUST THE START…

The lid of the capsule slammed shut with a hissing sound,
which meant it had just cut off my way back. This was the
point of no return for me. I had thought everything over
thoroughly and weighed all my options, finally arriving at this
conclusion: there were simply no other options for me. I had to
keep going forward, into a new, unknown life, without the
ability to return to my old one. I found myself in complete
darkness. I felt like I was in zero gravity, and yet, at the same
time, I couldn’t feel my body at all. In the distance, on the
very edge of my consciousness, a dim light started twinkling.
At first, there were only tiny specks of light, but then it
gradually began to brighten with each and every second that
passed. In a mere moment, it filled my entire consciousness.
- Welcome to the world of Alfarome! – I could hear a voice
inside my head. - Collecting data from the capsule … Data
collection complete. Medical capsule number is # ANV734685-EK3573, capsule does not have the clearance to
terminate its operation… Error! A request is being sent to the
administration of the server … An additional contract has been
received. A brief excerpt from the contract:
“Ignatenko Vladimir Alekseevich has signed an agreement
with the Administration of the Alfarome project and has
thereby agreed to be permanently transferred to the servers
belonging to the Administration, without a twelve-hour limit
on his presence in virtual reality, according to the Ministry of
Health Decree No. 17554. The basis for the contract’s signing
is a medical report issued in the name of Ignatenko Vladimir
Alekseevich regarding the critical state of health due to his
advanced age. For the right to transfer his consciousness to
the servers of project “Alfarome”, Ignatenko Vladimir waives
the right to convert virtual currency from the game into real
world currency, get bonuses in the game in the form of real

world currency, and also pays twenty years in advance for the
right to play the game. “
-Do you wish to confirm your choice?
- Press ‘Confirm’!
Well, it’s not like I had another way out! Despite a state-ofthe-art health care system and advances in medicine, being
already 107 years old, you start to understand that it’s hardly
possible to live for much longer than that. Doctors have told
me that I could go on for two more years of real life, or even
five, possibly even ten years in the best case scenario, but I’d
have to permanently be in a medical capsule. I have saved up
quite a large amount of money, but, unfortunately, there’s no
one I could bequeath this money to. I’m all by myself. Well,
it’s wrong of me to say that; I have quite a big family:
grandchildren and great-grandchildren, who, of course, are
proud to have a relative like me, but we don’t stay in touch
anymore and hardly ever even speak on the phone.
My wife died about twenty years ago, and my children have
also passed away due to old age, but my grandchildren and
great-grandchildren are alive and have their own families now.
That’s why I personally decided to cut my ties with them, so
that they could live their lives, and not be disturbed by an old
fogey living out his life in solitude. So I decided to immerse
myself in virtual reality, in order to, so to speak, let my hair
down one last time. And then I encountered a problem.
According to the latest decrees from the Ministry of Health,
staying in virtual reality is limited to only twelve hours, after
which time you should be disconnected for at least four hours.
Of course, it’s possible to divide this period into smaller parts,
according to your own wishes. You should, for instance, rest
for twenty minutes in reality for every hour you spend in the
virtual one. I didn’t like that option either, because I have to be

in a capsule twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Having obtained all the necessary medical certificates, court
decisions, and after concluding an agreement with a new but
promising company, as well as receiving a number of game
restrictions, I’ve finally achieved my target. In the meantime, I
have also set a precedent, according to which, from now on,
terminally-ill patients can at least play games and enjoy
themselves to the fullest. Okay, since I’ve given you the
backstory, I’m returning to the present day.
- Do you want to start registering your character?
- Yes, I do.
- Choose how you will interact with the system: by using your
voice, thoughts, gestures, or choose another option. Attention:
if you choose another option for your method of interaction,
you will need to manually configure the standard list of
interaction commands.
- Select interaction by means of voice and mental commands.
- Confirm the choice of interaction with the system by using
voice and mental commands!
- Confirm!
- Confirm your choice one more time, mentally.
What an annoying, artificial brain this is! Why should I have
to confirm everything a million times?!

- Yes, I wish to confirm my choice! - I mentally told the
system.
- Thank you for your choice! Please choose how you would
like to be notified by the system: by means of voice, text, light
signals, or custom settings. Attention: if you select a custom
option for your notifications, you will need to manually
configure the standard list of notification options.

- Select notification by text!
- Do you wish to confirm your choice of being notified by the
system through text-based messages?
- Confirm!
A short message flashed into view:
Thank you for your choice! Select Your Character’s Name…
I should really think about this, since it’s going to be my name
in the game and I’m going to be stuck in here for quite a long
time. OK, let’s start:
- Vladimir
Name already in use
- Vova
Name already in use
- Vovka
Name already in use
- AlekseyiCH
Name already in use
-…
-…
-…
- Pissed-off
Name already in use
-Is this one ALSO taken?
Name already in use

-…
-…
-…
- Stalker
Name already in use
- The Grandfather
Name already in use
- The old man
Name already in use
Damn it, what can I even choose? This game has really made
it difficult for me to settle on a name. Every time I come up
with some damn thing, I get a message about how it’s already
taken. But, maybe…?

- Volper
This name is not taken! Would you like to choose this
name for your character?
- Yeah, dammit, I want it bad!!!
Congratulations, your character’s name has been chosen
and it’s Volper! Do you want to change the character’s age,
or would you like to make it your real-life age?
I will change my age for sure, but now I have a
dilemma: how old am I supposed to be in the game? If I look
back at my youth, I can remember that I was in the prime of
my life being between the ages of 25 and 35. If you calculate
an average for that age range, you’ll get 30. But I don’t like

round figures, so we’ll make my character a bit younger and,
as a result, this is my choice:
- Assign my character the age of twenty-eight years.
The character is now 28 years old!
I could now view a three-dimensional model of my character,
which is surprisingly similar to me in my youth. He’s got dark,
short hair, about a quarter of an inch long; dark, slightly
curved and very agile eyebrows; gray eyes with a slight tinge
of brown; a straight nose, slightly upturned at the end; thin
lips, curved into a smile, which depicts me as a person who
often smiles, and a slightly protruding chin. He’s a really
muscular man, but not overly so. He is almost six feet tall.
There’s nothing special about him; the new me looks like an
average young man in his late twenties. My contemplation of
my youthful self was interrupted by a new message from the
system that popped up in front of my eyes:
Choose the Character’s Race:
1. A Human Being
2. A Cyborg (initial implants are installed)
3. A Latent Mutant (changes are configured by genotype)
4. A Mutant (changes are adjusted by phenotype)
At this point, I froze up, just like a computer: the developers
hadn’t mentioned that there were a few races available. Damn!
How could they have concealed such important information?
Of course, I agreed with their statement: “In our world, even
just a single piece of information is worth a lot of money”. But
they could have given us at least a little more to work with.

Okay, I won’t spend too long reflecting on it, I have to make a
choice. However, what is there to choose from? I don’t want to
be a mutant, that’s for sure! - I am strongly disgusted by them.
Being a Cyborg is not my cup of tea, either: I don’t want to
install any chips or metal parts into my body. My choice is
obvious!
- Please, choose the Human Being.
Your choice has been accepted! Do you want to change the
appearance of your character?
And then I found myself in the realm of bioscience
engineering, the dream of each and every biologist–
everything is possible here. Do you want to change the color
of your skin, hair, eyes – even have a pigmentation that you
can normally only wish for? Then this is the place for you
since the tools at your disposal allow you to do it all yourself.
You can change the shape of your eyes, face, or limbs. If you
want, you can increase the number or change the appearance
of limbs and body parts, as well as replace them with almost
any biological or mechanical analogs. Yes, it was possible;
you could change or adjust everything, from your looks to
your nervous or cardiovascular system. But for me, almost all
of the settings of the character were marked with an inactive,
gray color, and when I looked at any of them, a message
would pop up:
This option is not available for the Human Being
Okay, let’s not overthink it and leave everything as it is. After
all, I’ve been alive for so many years now. In the end, I’ll be in
my own, beloved body, without any changes. That’s very
important – I don’t have to get used to any new oddities.

- Finish configuration without any changes
Assign primary attributes:
Strength - 5
Agility - 5
Endurance - 5
Perception - 5
Intelligence - 5
Reasoning power - 5
Luck - 5
Charisma - 5
Free points available: 8
There were two buttons for each parameter: a plus and a minus
(more or less). Clicking back and forth, I realized that you
could not only increase, but also decrease your attributes, thus
adding to or deducting from the free points in the game. The
problem was that I didn’t quite know how each of the features
was related to a certain parameter in this game. And I figured
that choosing at random, relying on my idea of what this all
meant, would be the wrong thing to do. There must be some
sort of explanation, because if there isn’t any information on
their official website, then there must be a way to get this
precious information within the game itself … Umm … I’ve
realized I’m dumb. Before the game started loading, I had
made sure that the game had a user-friendly interface.
Highlighting the Strength attribute by looking at it, I sent a
mental command to the interface:

- MORE INFORMATION
Strength is directly tied to the development of your
musculature and determines how much you can carry, the
force of your blows in close combat and your ability to use
heavy weaponry or heavy systems designed for your personal
protection.

Bingo! So there is a way to determine what attributes I
need, and which are less important. I only have to decide what
my character will be like. Well, let’s continue studying the
theoretical part first:
Agility is directly tied to the flexibility of your body and
determines the success of your jumps, rolling, fine
movements and your ability to perform various martial art
techniques that require flexibility.
Endurance is directly tied to the ability of your body to go
through prolonged periods of pressure and stress, and is
responsible for how quickly you become exhausted, your
resistance to pain, and the time you have to spend dealing
with long-lasting negative effects.
Perception is directly tied to your mind’s ability to process
signals from external sources and is responsible for the
quality of your eyesight, hearing, sensitivity to odors and
sense of touch, as well as your ability to notice various
small details in the world that surrounds you.
Intelligence is directly tied to the ability of your brain to
perceive and remember information and is responsible for
the speed at which you learn different skills, the rate at

which you lose previously acquired skills, as well as your
ability to process various chunks of information.

I read the info on intellect three times before I realized
that I was concerned about one thing. It was the part about
losing previously acquired skills that bothered me. It turns out
that you can lose some of your skills over the course of the
game. I’m just not sure about what can cause this loss, and
how fast the skills would be lost. Yes, damn it, it’s not even
clear how the intellect would affect the rate of loss: I wonder if
the rate of loss will slow down or, on the contrary, increase
with higher intellect. So, what’s the connection? Pondering
this problem for too long could burn me out and could
possibly take hours. Okay, I think it’s time to stop torturing
myself since it’s no use scrambling my brains. I’d better read
the descriptions of my other attributes.
Reasoning power is directly tied to the ability of your brain
to interact with the outside world and is responsible for
determining the possible volume of interactions being
performed, the strength of your resistance to attacks levied
against you and the intensity of your mutual interaction.

Fuck! Dear game developers, I have a question for
you… what kind of nerd wrote these brain-melting texts? You
have to read them many times, and then you still don’t
understand this shit, so you keep on reading until you get it.
Based on what I have read so far, the reasoning power appears
to be responsible for something related to the power of thought
and gaining control over it. So, we will encounter either
different telepaths with psychokinetic powers, or a wider range
of types called “psionics“. Okay, let’s keep reading these
instructions.

The Luck parameter is directly tied to how lucky you are!
Bwa-ha-ha… This is the most detailed description of the
attributes so far. Well, after reading this, one thing is clear! I
now have the feeling that at least 90% of the players will be
dissing the game developers.
Charisma is directly tied to your ability to engage others in
communication and is responsible for your ability to
quickly make everyone feel at ease while talking to you and
your chances of getting more discounts in stores, getting
rarer assignments or a higher reward for the completed
tasks.
Now I have to ask myself: what should I choose? Almost all
the attributes are important in the game, you don’t want to
sacrifice anything, but you have to choose which attributes
you need in the beginning and which ones will be gained
during the course of the game. As I was going over everything,
filled with doubt and reflecting on what I should choose, I
carelessly clicked on the cursor, adding and deducting points
from each of the attributes, making them go from one to ten,
trying to arrive at the right decision. And my mind kept telling
me, time and time again, that I was making mistakes and that
something was wrong here, and that there was something
extremely important that I was missing.
This is how I played around: first, five points in good luck and
three more into reasoning power, and then I’d reset all
attributes to the initial parameters. Then, I’d get four attributes
up to the maximum, which is ten, and four of the other
attributes would only get one point each. STOP IT! And why
can’t I assign all the points available to me into just one
attribute? I can’t do that since ten is the maximum value for

each category. But why?! What could be the reason for such a
limit? Think, my dear brain, or I’ll blow you the fuck out of
my head! After all, there must be a reason for this restriction,
although … it shouldn’t be so – I haven’t seen such a thing in
any other games.
But the game developers did mention in one of their
interviews that they’d resorted to non-standard solutions for
many of the features of this game, which cannot be found
anywhere else. So it’s highly possible that the attributes, or as
most people call them, stats, cannot be increased with new
levels. Which means that 10 is the maximum possible value
for an attribute. Damn it! Fucking bullshit!
I figure most players are likely to choose six points for all their
attributes, which means they will get an average character,
without any clear distinctions and special features. My heart
was pounding. I imagine the players will flood the forums with
indignant messages within a day or two.
Realizing that there really was a problem, I almost
immediately made a plan of action. Maybe it wasn’t the best,
but it was the most appropriate choice for the way I planned to
play the game. In the end, I chose these attributes:
Strength - 5
Agility - 9
Endurance - 5
Perception - 9
Intelligence - 6
Reasoning power - 1
Luck - 8

Charisma - 5
Free points available: 0
After confirming my choice, the following message
popped up in front of me:
Congratulations! You’ve created a new character! Our
servers boot up in…
1:17:23
1:17:22
1:17:21
1:17:20…
In just a little over an hour, my game would start. On the one
hand, it’s not very pleasant to hover in this emptiness, with the
timer ticking down in full view; on the other hand, there’s time
to get my thoughts together and solve the perennial question:
what do I do next? First, I need to process the information
available to me. In an hour, I’m embarking on a long journey a new game, accompanied by a crowd of frenzied gamers, and
we’ll all be exploring a totally new world. Which means there
are neither guidelines, nor any tips from experienced players.
There will probably be a race to experience everything and
gather information about the virtual world surrounding us.
Should my assumption about the attributes prove to be true,
there will be no use in trying to get as much experience as
possible. Therefore, there are several primary tasks lying
ahead of me. Firstly, I am to figure out what needs to be done
in order to successfully compete with other players. Secondly,
I should gather information about the world around me,
because as wisdom dictates: “He who owns the
information, owns the world”. Reflecting on this for so long, I
didn’t even notice when I gradually dozed off for a while.

I regained consciousness when I heard the beeping of the
timer, which was counting down the last seconds before the
world booted up:
Attention! The servers are booting up in …
0:00:06 sec…
0:00:05
0:00:04
0:00:03
0:00:02
0:00:01
The bright flash hurt my eyes. I’d barely managed to blink
when I saw the transparent spherical cover of the capsule in
front of me. With a quiet hissing sound, the lid moved forward
a little and opened up.
Volper, welcome to Alfarome!
I got out of my box carefully, not yet fully accustomed to this
new body of mine, which, unlike my old one, didn’t ache
every time I moved. I finally got out of the capsule that looked
like one of those cryogenic pods in sci-fi films, standing
upright. I found myself in a rectangular-shaped room of about
two by four meters, decorated with something akin to tiles the
color of a sea wave mixed with algae. It was a dirty greenish
color with a slightly blue hue. My capsule was in one corner of
the room, and opposite it, I noticed a rectangular door.
“Well, hi to you too, Alfarome. Here I am!”

CHAPTER II: WELCOME TO YOUR NEW REALITY

Having looked around, I made sure I was relatively safe in
here. The next thing I did was check how my new body
“worked”. I was feeling excited after some warm-up exercises.
There was no pain anymore, nothing hurt, and my new body
obeyed my orders perfectly. Of course, I’m a little awkward
now, but that could be justified by me still having to get used
to my new body. A little time would pass and I’d fully adapt to
this new body. Then, I think, everything will be perfect, from
how I move, my muscles and so on and so forth. Okay, that’s
sorted, and now – let’s check out my surroundings and
whether I possess all five senses in this virtual world. I wonder
whether they can be distinguished from real world senses. I
have to check since I haven’t tasted anything edible so far and
tactile sensations haven’t really been experienced, either. But
that is just a matter of time. It’s necessary to be consistent so
as not to screw up, for I have to live in this body for quite a
while. But if I were to fail, then I’d have problems with
progressing further.
- CHARACTER STATUS
There’s no response from the system. I don’t understand, how
am I supposed to view my information? Damn, okay, what if
we try this:
- PROFESSIONS … SKILLS … INVENTORY …
CHARACTER INFO
No matter what request I sent, there was no reply. It resembled
reality so much. Well, I can only look around now - and I
carefully started to do just that. I had on a light, silver T-shirt

with long sleeves, pants of the same color and some
moccasins, or maybe I would call them slippers with a thin
sole, of the same silvery color. Pockets or bags weren’t found,
and neither were other devices for storing and carrying things.
I started thinking about three possible solutions: firstly, I can
be a dumbass, lagging behind and not knowing some
elementary things; secondly: the starter kit should be
somewhere near the place where I appeared, and thirdly: I will
be given a starter kit later.
All three options looked plausible. I couldn’t check the extent
of my idiocy at this time, but other stats were subject to
detailed verification. After carefully inspecting the room one
more time, I still couldn’t find anything. I even walked along
the walls and touched all the suspicious tiles, but this,
unfortunately, didn’t work out so well. Finally, I checked even
the capsule, but found nothing: only the automatic cover and a
bed made from a very soft material.
Having spent about twenty minutes on checking my body and
the room I was in, I finally headed for the door, which
occupied almost the entire opposite side of the wall. On the
right, there was a display with a palm-shaped indent on it.
Now only a true dumbass would be puzzled about what to do.
I’d never considered myself too stupid, so I boldly put my
right hand up to the display. In response to my action, the door
on the left softly opened. The cacophony I heard almost
deafened me.
- Damn, hey people, what the f***?
- Let’s see: who’s here at the party?
- HELLO?! WHERE CAN I SEE THE F***ING INFO???
-…
-…

-…
- Where can I get quests?
- Folks, what should I be doing here?

I could hear others asking many different questions, shouting
or suggesting something. Some of them were making up
complicated, offensive and abusive words and sentences,
showing their discontent. All this noise began to irritate me a
lot. I was happy about only one thing: if I’m a dumbass or just
plain stupid, I’m not the only one here. All the noise was made
by crowds of new players running around or standing in the
corridor, dressed in the same silver clothes as me. The corridor
was four meters wide, painted the same dirty greenish color as
my room.
In contrast to the walls, the floor and the ceiling were of the
same uniform material, which resembled coated concrete.
There were dome-shaped lamp lights on the ceiling, mounted
every three meters, giving off a soft light that was pleasant to
look at. In the middle of the ceiling there were small, lightemitting diodes, along which ran a line of yellow light, from
right to left. There were a lot of doors in the corridor, one after
another, all of them just like mine.
There was a sign with letters and numbers on the left-side
jamb of each of those doors. The sign plates had only a few
different symbols, which were apparently the numbers of the
rooms. On the right jamb of each door there was a panel, one
familiar to me, with the palm-shaped indent in it. Looking at
my door, I immediately noticed the number: “B - 3/27”. I
should remember it.
Putting my palm on the panel, I closed the door to my room
just in case, and then followed those yellow light-arrows.

These LEDs were similar to an alarm system showing where
the exit was. Such lights are usually used at military bases. But
the lights on these walls weren’t the typical multi-colored
LEDs, which military bases use to direct specific units to
different places, using the multiple colors. I walked for fifty
meters and then I understood everything.
Although the corridor was long, there was a point in the
ceiling were lights met from two opposite directions. At this
point, there was a small arrow of LEDs pointing at the door,
which was no different from all the others, except for the sign
on it that said, “Lift”.
There was a crowd of players waiting for the lift, and they
only entered it one by one. When the doors opened, I saw a
place similar to a tiny room, about two by two meters. When a
player entered the lift, you could see the line of an energy
barrier flickering in the doorway.
“Why on earth are we only going one at a time? There’s
enough space for three or even four people in there,” - I asked
the player who was standing next to me.
- I haven’t the slightest idea!
- “Most likely, it’s done to protect players from PCs,” another player joined our dialogue. – “Also, we haven’t yet
figured out whether it’s possible to give someone else
permission to come into the lift with you.”
- I see. Thanks for help.
- No problem.
After about three minutes, it was my turn to go into the lift.
Inside, there was only a panel showing numbers for the floors,
with two columns of touch-sensitive buttons, and you could
scroll up and down the list of the floors. The right column was
inactive, grayed out and marked “Hangar”, the left column

was numbered and active. At the very bottom, next to the
number one, was the sign “Hall.” I realized I had nothing to do
on the other floors, so I chose the “Hall” button. The lift
promptly went down, but it first moved horizontally, which I
found odd.
There was a slightly different feeling in the hall. Directly in
front of the lift, there was a wide, glazed door, about twenty or
twenty-five meters wide. There were several lines of players.
In the middle of the exit stood a man in uniform, and from
time to time, he would yell at players:
- Before leaving the replication center, I strongly recommend
that you consult with the specialists of our center. The green
light above the door shows that the specialist is ready to see
you.

Some of the players, who had already run to the exit, stopped
abruptly and began to look for the specialists. And the smartest
were already running along the corridor to the right and left,
looking for the doors that were highlighted with a green color.
I went along one of the corridors, and at the same time noticed
that there wasn’t just one lift on the first floor, but around 15.
Each lift probably led to only some of the floors. Although if
you consider that my lift first moved horizontally, then, most
likely, it’s simply moved into an unoccupied, empty lift shaft,
allowing the use of elevators to be much more effective than it
had been in the past – each lift moves up and down in its shaft.
Honestly, I couldn’t understand why I should rush along the
corridors, as if I were an active-duty soldier in his first year,
being taught by an experienced sergeant. Over the course of
about twenty minutes, during which I’d tried to find a free
consultant, I was nearly knocked off my feet hundreds of
times, being called a “noob”, a “high school kid”, a “player of

low skill”, and some other things like that. After my long
wandering, I finally got lucky. Right next to me, a door opened
and one of the players quickly left the room.
“Scram! You noobie!!!” - He shouted at me, pushing me aside,
and rushed off in the direction of the exit.
“Well, well … the sun will shine into our yard, too,” - I
muttered to myself, going into the room from which this
weirdo had rushed out. Just above the door, a green light was
on.
I was quite surprised when I came into the room. Unlike the
annoying, gloomy colors of the corridors, everything here was
in white tones, casting a blue light that was pleasing to the eye.
A short distance away from me, near the wall, a young, darkhaired girl with emerald eyes was sitting at her desk. She was
wearing a white blouse, a strict dark brown jacket, and had a
smile on her face. She looked at me with exhaustion in her
eyes, in which I could easily read: “I’m fed up with all of
you!” The game developers had done their best, indeed. She
looks like a real human being, though she is obviously a nonplayer character. There’s a very good slang word/abbreviation
for it which gamers often use - “NPC”.
Emotions, shown in her facial expressions and eyes, small
twitches of the face, a slight movement of her eyes from top to
bottom and back – all this shows that she’s examining my
physique and appearance very carefully. That’s very
interesting! Let’s see how well the game developers integrated
interactive and emotional components into the game. After all,
they promised that it would be impossible to tell NPCs apart
from real human beings.
“Welcome to …” - she began, but I interrupted her
immediately.

- Good afternoon, Miss! Sorry to bother you, but I’m looking
for a replication center specialist.
“Err … that’s me, actually …”
- “That can’t be true!” - I interrupted her again, without
giving her any chance to get her thoughts together. - “Such a
charming lady spending time advising us ordinary people; I
cannot believe it.”
- Well …
- Right! It’s so kind of you to help us, the common herd, learn
about this world and give us the opportunity to enjoy your
beauty…
The girl was embarrassed and her cheeks flushed. This
prompted me to realize that, although she was a little
confused, the girl obviously enjoyed my words. I continued to
express my admiration of her, so many compliments, very
carefully choosing what to say, because, according to the
history of the game, I am in a distant future. And who knows
what words or actions, what manner of courtship, remained in
use here. I sang like a nightingale for another three minutes.
All that time, the girl was blushing and smiling. She was
probably embarrassed. She lowered her eyes, running her
fingers through her hair. When my courtship ritual was almost
over, she jumped right out of her chair.
- Oh, I should instruct you and activate the neurointerface!
- Really?
“It’s very important!” - she came up to me and, grabbing my
hand, dragged me over to the table, in front of which was a
chair for visitors.
- Sit down, please; now I’ll show you everything and tell you
all about it!

When I sat down on the chair, she ran around the table and
began looking for something in the top drawer, without even
realizing that, in this position, she’d exposed the lower half of
her body to me. She’s got an amazing ass and her barely-there
skirt revealed this to me, along with her beautiful, slender legs
and neat shoes with small, sharp heels. All this peeping made
me feel like a young soldier who would bed any girl with a
pulse. I was very surprised, because I was feeling something
that I had forgotten about for a long time and I hadn’t really
expected to ever feel again.
Well, I was certainly surprised, shocked, even. After all, I had
once more begun to feel the desire to have sexual relations,
with all the ensuing consequences. In a word, I was horny.
And this was happening at my old age! Ok, breathe in deeply,
and exhale, and now, do it again. Phew! That’s better. I’d
wanted to check how realistic the NPCs are in here, and in
return, I’d gotten sexually excited. Although, given the level
of realism in her reaction, they aren’t just NPCs, but fullydeveloped artificial personalities. Well, that means you should
try to regard them as real people and treat them accordingly.
Maybe this will turn out good for me. While I was pondering
all this, the girl took out some kind of device, reminiscent of a
swimming cap with soldered-on microchips.
- Here you are! Put it on, please, and relax. I’m now going to
activate the neurointerface for you, and then I’ll start
instructing you.
Taking the small hat in my hand, I began to twist it, trying to
figure out where the front and the back were. Smiling, the girl
took the hat back and put it on my head, while almost burying
her sexy breasts, incidentally, they were maybe a size two, in
my face. Having put her device on me, she stepped back and
began to make strange gestures with her hands in the air.

I was dazzled for a little while, but I felt alright again fairly
quickly. Only now, a lot of icons and panels had appeared in
my view. In the upper left corner, there were multicolored
stripes; the lower left one showed which weapons were
available. Meanwhile, in the upper right corner, a small image
of the map appeared, and the entire bottom right part was
occupied by different icons. In the middle, overlapping half of
the screen, a message popped up:
Congratulations! You have completed the first task
“Activating the neurointerface “. You activated your neural
network from the official representative of the authority, and
you are now registered in the government network.
Reward: You can now use the interface

Yes! Now I understood why I hadn’t been able to open the
interface. My subconscious mind had made me feel worried,
and I couldn’t identify the source of my anxiety. I’d barely
started to look for the reason why when the voice of the
gorgeous specialist told me:
“It’s ready! The neurointerface has been activated; now
we’ll proceed to the instructions.”
She sat down on her chair and went on. “We are now in the
building of the Replication Center, on the fifth level of the
multi-level Alfarome city. Taking into account the problems of
the past several decades, the government decided to extract a
lot of spare replication prototypes from the archives, which
aren’t being used at present. Thus, the aim of the government
is to increase the number of people and its plan is to, with the
help of these replicant copies, restore the infrastructure of the
fifth level. If this project proves fruitful, then, in the future,
using the same method, we will restore the other remaining

lower levels. In connection to this, it was decided that we’d
provide each replicant with a room in which they could be
replicated for free for a period of seven days or for ten
replicas. All the subsequent replication procedures are to be
paid for according to the published tariffs. A thousand credits
are also given to each replicant as an initial bonus. You’ll also
be receiving a file in which all the main structures of our
forward stronghold have been marked. Be careful: the areas
highlighted in red on the map are not patrolled by our Security
Service; therefore, mortal danger awaits you, should you go
there. Phew! It seems to me like I’ve told you all the important
information.”
I wonder if she’s learned all of it by heart, in order to tell us
this, or if there’s a service note in her neural network and she
reads from it? I paid attention to the fact that the girl was
looking at me sadly; I was surprised, because she’d been
cheerful and chattered quite happily before, and then this
dramatic change in mood happened.
- Excuse me, but what is your name? I’m Vlad … oh … Volper,
and you?
- “Oh …” - she opened her eyes wide and covered her mouth
with her hand, - “I didn’t introduce myself, did I?”
- No.
- Litara, - you can call me Lita for short.
- What a beautiful name! Tell me, Lita, why are you so sad?
- Well, just like all the other replicants, you will now run away,
yelling weird words!
We keep on sitting, looking at each other. One second passed,
two, five, ten; I couldn’t stand the silence and asked her:

- Well? Have I already run away or not?
- Apparently, you haven’t.
- It’s strange, because you, Lita, said that I would run away.
- And why haven’t you?
- Why would I do that? - I could barely contain my laughter.
“I don’t know,” Lita seems to have had a panic attack from
seeing the “wrong” me.
“Maybe while you’re deciding on why I should run away you
will answer a couple of my questions?”
- “I will answer them with pleasure!” She smiled at me. “If I
know the answer, of course…”

“Tell me, Lita, what was the activation of this neural network
for?”
- Well, how can you do without an active neural network?
After all, it fully tracks your body, providing an opportunity
for you to know everything about your health status, what
skills you have acquired and much more. Also, it’s necessary
for the sake of convenience - it renders your actions into
numerical values and you can track the progress of your body.
And, most importantly, the server processes all of your
actions, and the government immediately awards you with
bonuses for completing tasks. Again, without a neural
network, you won’t receive a level of usefulness to the
community, which directly depends on the tasks you
performed and the amount of work you did which is useful to
the city.
- I suppose that I won’t be able to see the level of any creatures
or mutants?

- Oh you will, for sure. In this case, the level of potential
danger is displayed.

- I see, Lita. You mentioned that it’s necessary to restore the
infrastructure of the fifth level. So, do we need to do some
construction work?
- Well … it is possible to do some construction work, but first
you need to clear the territory of the threats - the fifth level
became uninhabited about three hundred years ago. During
all that time, various mutated creatures and gangs of criminals
settled in there; in some places, Security Systems are still
operating in an aggressive mode. Periodically, you can come
across droids of different classes with busted settings, or else
you can bump into mutated people who are hiding from the
authorities. So, it turns out that in order for you to begin the
reconstruction work, you’ll need to clear the territory, fortify
your position there and only then can you start improving the
infrastructure.
“…And what about the militia groups?”
“Unfortunately, they are all involved in stopping the mutant
breach,” Lita answered, sighing sadly.
- It turns out that we are just “meat shields” meant to clear
the territory?
- No, you are not! A lot of replication centers have been built
on the entire fifth level on purpose. The authorities provided
expensive equipment for human replication, and all replication
procedures are carried out at the net cost of biological
material, so that you all shouldn’t have to worry about your
possible death.

- Then why can’t the government replicate the military
officers?
- Unfortunately, the technology for creating a fullyoperational, replicated copy was lost a very long time ago,
and now we can only make changes to the existing ones. Also,
replicating several times at once isn’t allowed by the Server.
What the reason for that is, nobody knows.
- Got it! So, you can only earn money by killing dangerous
creatures?
- Not necessarily. Almost everything that you can get beyond
the walls of our outpost, you can hand over to different
departments. For example, the bodies of mutants that haven’t
been studied much are gratefully purchased by laboratories in
the scientific center; also, engineers there will buy various
tools and instruments off you, whether they’re totally unknown
to us or just different versions of existing things. If you get a
hold of armor or weapons, you can carry them to the store and
sell them. You’re sure to be offered a good price for them
there. Besides that, if you’re tight on money, you can pick up
all the trash around the perimeter and take it to the
administrative building; they buy it cheaply there and send it
for processing. There are a lot of options for earning money,
even without having any professional skills.
- Thank you, Lita, for such detailed information.
- Not at all. I’m doing my job here, although very few people
are interested in something more than just basic information.
Given that I had a pitifully small amount of information, I
didn’t even know what else to ask about. Also, to tell you the
truth, I was very stressed out by this total control of the Server.
The game developers had probably found a logical way for
characters to be revived with this sort of setup. And so, I had
to say goodbye to Litara, promising to come back to talk to
her, should I have any more questions. After I’d left the room
and had walked for about ten meters along the corridor, I

stopped and began to study the interface layout. The map
displayed a small space around me; perhaps it’s limited to my
field of view. By sending a mental request, the map
maximized, showing everything in fine detail.
Almost all of it was covered with the so-called “Fog of War”,
which is usually used in the gaming industry to hide the part of
the map where the player hasn’t been before. The only thing
that I found unexpected were the level and floor switches,
although it was logical from the point of view of the gaming
world, in which you need to be guided not only in the
horizontal, but also in the vertical plane. Minimizing the map,
I looked at the icons. Here, too, everything was as I’d
expected: character status, mailbox, friend list, and system
menu. After opening the character menu, I immediately
became engrossed in studying the basic stats, because, from
time to time, some points give a clue about the possible
evolution of the game in the future.
Character Status:
Name: Volper
Current level: 0
Experience: 0/250
Armor (on average): 1
Lives left: 50/50
Hunger: 12/100
Thirst: 17/100
Fatigue: 3/50
Maximum weight capacity: 0.9 / 50
Attributes:
Strength - 5
Agility - 9

Endurance - 5
Perception - 9
Intelligence - 6
Reasoning power - 1
Luck - 8
Charisma - 5
Skills: —
Professions: —
Personal account: 1,000 credits
When I focused on the “Armor” item, I could see a
detailed description of all the parts of my body. Right now,
everything except for the hands and the head, had a value of
“1”, which had apparently been given to me by my starter kit.
The rest of the statistics, no matter how hard I tried to open
those items, were inactive at this time. The lines in the upper
left corner represented changing stats, for example: the red
line referred to life, the gray one was for hunger, the blue one
for thirst and the orange one, surely, showed my fatigue level.
Of all the bars, only life was already filled up, and the rest of
them were in the process of being filled.
I got very excited about the two parameters: skills and
professions. The problem was that there were hardly any
descriptions of them, as well as the lines being empty. Why?
As far as I could see, they were most likely going to be very
important for the evolution of the character, so it’s not for
nothing that they’d been included in the main statistics data.
Okay, the information is all well and good, but I need to level
up, and oh my, I’m still falling behind the swiftest players.
Well, first I have to find a store, get some shopping done (if I
have enough money for it) and then I’ll try out my skills in
action.

CHAPTER III: A HARDCORE BEGINNING? OR: DEVS, ARE YOU
NUTS?

With the help of my map, I managed to reach the store in just
three minutes and then got stuck in the queue for almost half
an hour. I had some time to look around while waiting to get
into the store. Admittedly, I wouldn’t have minded
overhearing some interesting conversations, but there were
only noobs around me. Unfortunately, I didn’t pick up on
anything useful from their chatting. The outpost consisted of
only five buildings: a fifty-story replication center, an equally
large residential complex, a thirty-story scientific center, a
five-story administrative building, and a store.
All the buildings were arranged in a ring around a specific
area, and along the perimeter, the outpost was surrounded by
an 8-meter tall modular fence, evidently intended for further
expansion. Behind the fence was where the most interesting
things were: huge buildings that were usually at least halfway
destroyed, along with multi-level roads. The most amazing
thing was that, directly above us, there was no sky, not even a
dome. A concrete ceiling stretched out over the whole city, as
far as the eye could see. Or at least something like concrete, it
was similar enough to it. Only now did I understand what Lita
had been saying about different levels.
It turns out that we have at least one more city above our
heads, and it’s about the same size. Going by the fact that
we’re on the fifth level, there must be four more under us.
On either side of the entrance to the store, there was a guard in
some sort of mechanical armor, distantly resembling the
armored suits of space troopers. However, in contrast to them,
the guards had a face shield, the arms and legs had thicker
external armor, and they had yellowish energy lines on the
sides of their bodies.

They all had an automatic rifle in their hands, an energy rifle
at that, judging by the round module that had a uniform blue
glow coming off of it. It looked impressive, but in terms of
practicality and subtlety – it was just horrible. Not only could
they be seen almost from space, but the most vulnerable spots
were also highlighted. After waiting my turn, I finally went
into the store. What caught my eye were eight coupled turrets
under the ceiling, the fine-meshed gratings in front of the
shelves and a huge number of CCTV cameras.
It was a great place for paranoid people, especially when you
consider that there were no more than a couple dozen buyers
in the store at the same time. The shopping area itself was
roughly divided into sections of different types of goods.
There were the weapons; there was the ammunition, and the
armor, and so on and so forth. Coming to the armaments
section, an electromagnetic rifle immediately caught my eye.
It had pulse launching projectiles along with energy enriched
ones, with the muzzle itself being how you switch between the
two modes.
Well damn, if you choose a matching plasma core for the
weapon, you are then able to burn through even the composite
armor of a combat robot. Looking at the price, I was shocked:
seventeen million credits. Doubtlessly, I would have to work
hard for at least six months to afford it, although I don’t know
the prices of the local loot yet, so it may end up taking even
longer.
– “Good afternoon!” - I said to the shop assistant. – “What do
you have for a beginner?”
– What kind of weapons are you interested in?
– Um … which kind do you have?”

– Well, there’s a general class of them – individual combat
weapons and hand weapons. The individual combat ones can
be: melee, energy, laser, and pulse. Melee weapons include
such classes of weapons as a blade, meant for chopping and
stabbing, crushing ones, meant…
– Ok, not so quickly. Let me think. Shall we turn the question
around? I need an inexpensive gun with a holster I can place
inside my pants, a knife with a 15-cm blade in a hard case,
and something compact, with an automatic fire mode.
The salesman looked me over, stroked his chin a bit and
decided on something.
– As far as I understand it, you’re on a budget and you’ve only
got the starter credits, am I right?
I just nodded. He turned away and looked for something in the
shop windows, and then shouted, “Levy, bring me the number
3 starter kit!”
- What kind of starter kit is that?
- Before the replication center started operating, we came
together and agreed to offer beginners starter kits containing
the minimal necessities. Also, it’s inexpensive, so you’ll be
able to afford this kit. Usually, replicants like you just ask for
either an assault rifle or a gun, or at least an ordinary rifle.
But you are, as far as I can see, quite knowledgeable, and
you’re planning ahead for different situations. Players rarely
ask these kinds of questions, so we have just a few starter kits.
But please, don’t be angry that the quality is low; for the
money you have, it’s not possible to purchase something of
high quality.
–Thank you just the same. How much do I owe you?

– “732,” he said, noticing I was surprised by the figure. - Yes,
don’t worry; all the necessities are already inside: a small
backpack with cartridges, two sets of army field ration and a
3-litre water pack.
That calmed me down. I didn’t want to face the problem of
lacking any kind of armor just because of one trivial reason lack of money. After taking the bundle, I confirmed the
payment in the pop-up window and money was withdrawn
from my account. Then I headed for the fitting room, shown to
me by the shop assistant. After closing the curtain, I
immediately examined what I had bought. I’d received short
black boots with fasteners; trousers made of a leather-like
material with two side and two hip pockets; a jacket with long
sleeves of the same material as the pants, with eight outside
pockets, located symmetrically on the right and left sides: two
on the chest and two on my abdomen; fingerless gloves with
reinforcement on the knuckles; a strange kind of pistol:
without a bolt carrier, barrel assembly and with a small,
movable part in the chamber area with a hidden trigger.

Having fiddled with the gun, I couldn’t find the pistol’s safety,
and the trigger was a single action one, without the need for
pre-cocking. Next, I took out a small submachine gun, with a
short barrel and skeletal stock, but to my dismay, the breech
mechanism was placed far ahead of the trigger, and there was
a loading case there too. The bullpup was lacking in any way
to lower the recoil, even just a little. In general, it cannot be
called a real weapon, it’s just a sad excuse. On top of that,
there are only two modes of fire: automatic and single. The
possibility of switching out the type of ammunition doesn’t
exist at all. You can literally bang your head against the wall,
for all the good it would do you.

Well, what more could I ask for at the very start of the game?
Okay, enough reflecting, let’s see what’s next: a simple
synthetic belt, a synthetic pistol holster worn on the thigh,
which has two elastic bands with fasteners around the thighs,
and a hard loop for affixing it to the belt. Of course, it would
be better to have a polymeric, open-wear one, but for the time
being, I cannot afford it, and, unlike this one, polymeric
holsters have to be chosen exclusively for the model of the
pistol you’re using, so that all the fixtures will fit accordingly.
What else do I have in my package? There’s a small backpack
with a volume of twenty or so liters, with a bunch of sewn-on
straps. If memory serves, this system of fasteners was used
before the invention of reliable magnetic grippers. Inside the
backpack, I found five boxes of cartridges, two spare
magazine cases for the submachine gun and one spare for the
gun. At the bottom, there were two vacuum packs of dry soup,
enough for one day. In a special pocket, at the back, there was
a hydrator with a tube pulled out to one of the shoulder straps
of the backpack.
The last thing in the bundle was a knife, about eleven inches
long, with a straight, one-sided 6-inch-long blade and a
slightly curved point. The handle was wrapped in some kind of
cord so it wouldn’t slip from the hand, and all this was placed
in a hard case that had a belt loop at the top parts and two
elastic bands with adjustable fasteners in the middle and lower
parts, which were intended, most likely, for additional
adjustment on the thigh. Looking at these things, I realize that
I’m an idiot, because I’m in a game and not in real life – you
just need to give a mental command in here. And so I checked
the info of all the objects:
“Rackword” shoes
Armor for: Feet / ankles:

Kinetic: 2
Penetrating: 3
Thermal: 1
Condition: 100%
Weight: 1.2 kg
“Saomi” trousers
Additional slots: 4, pocket type
Armor for: hips / knees / calves:
Kinetic: 1
Penetrating: 2
Thermal: 1
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.7 kg
“Oyster” jacket
Additional slots: 8, pocket type.
Armor for: Torso / Forearms / Elbows / Upper arms /
Shoulders:
Kinetic: 2
Penetrating: 2
Thermal: 2
Condition: 100%
Weight: 1.1 kg
“Clemor” gloves
Armor for: Palms / Wrists:

Kinetic: 1
Penetrating: 2
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.12 kg
“Cargo”TM backpack
Basic Slots: 2
Additional slots: Connector for hydrator (not available),
external system Molly.
Volume: 18 liters
Carrying capacity: 20 kg
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.4 kg
“SR-17” knife
Damage: 5-7
Overall length: 285 mm
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.26 kg
“PMK 428” pistol
Ammunition: 4.2х8
Range: 20 meters
Effective rate of fire: 30
Shooting modes: single
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.42 kg

“PMK 428” magazine case
Ammunition: 4.2х8
Amount of cartridges: 12
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.11 kg
Rifled cartridge “4.2х8”
Kinetic Damage: 4-6
Penetration damage: 2-3
Condition: 100%
Cartridge Weight: 2.4 g
“The Hornet” submachine gun
Ammunition: 4.2х8
Range: 30 meters
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 400
Shooting modes: single, automatic
Condition: 100%
Weight: 2.4 kg
The Hornet” submachine gun magazine case
Ammunition: 4.2х8
Amount of cartridges: 50
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.23 kg

After examining the attributes of the things, I was so mad that
I just wanted to hang myself. Sighing heavily, I changed my
clothes, put my backpack on, holstered the pistol on my right
thigh, and the knife on my left leg – it was now quite
convenient to take it out with both the right and left hand.
Well, I’d had some difficulty readjusting the lower fastener to
the link for the belt at first, but in the end, the scabbard sat
well and comfortably. After filling all the magazine cases with
ammunition and putting spares for the submachine gun into
my breast pockets, I put an additional pistol in a special pocket
on the gun holster. The I hung the Hornet around my neck with
the barrel pointed down and adjusted its strap so that when I
tossed it up on my shoulder, the belt wouldn’t press against the
back of my neck.
After changing my clothes, I decided to throw away the
slippers that were left, so that they could be recycled, without
a second thought. Jumping up and down a couple of times to
make sure nothing was loose, I was already planning to leave,
but then realized that I wouldn’t get far like this. Quickly
looking through what they had on offer, I bought a reel of thin
but strong cord, half a kilo of bandages and a spray bottle of
disinfectant. By the way, I was very surprised by the absence
of any elixirs or stimulating potions, which could immediately
heal any wounds. After a moment’s thought, I bought a 1-liter
gas cylinder with a nozzle for directional fire and electric
ignition.
I had a bit of money left and so I bought some snacks,
bringing the indicators for hunger and thirst to zero. Looking
at the statistics of my weight capacity, I was pleased: almost
fourteen and a half kilograms out of fifty available. I was
disappointed only by the account status; there were only 13
credits left. After checking everything one final time, I decided
that now was the perfect time to set off. I jogged to the nearest
of the three gates and, after passing through the door with a
group of players, went outside for the first time.

The territory behind the perimeter welcomed me with the
sounds of shooting coming from different directions and,
judging by the sound, from different distances as well. But it
seemed no more than five hundred meters away, maybe seven
hundred. Looking around quickly and not noticing any danger
nearby, I placed the cartridge into the Hornet in a hurry. I
didn’t want to place any into the pistol, afraid to carry around
a loaded pistol that doesn’t have a safety device – hoping to
prevent anything embarrassing from happening to me. The
players with whom I’d passed through the gateway fanned out
along the streets in small groups, going in different directions.

I figured that the streets in front of the gate were full of
players, so I decided to move along the wall, going to the right
of the gate. After passing about half way to the next gate, I
noticed a narrow street, which went deep into the city, and I
went down it. A creature jumped out from a heap of garbage
and charged me after the first turn. I was quick in this new
body, my reflexes once more sharp. My brain identified the
potential threat just in time and I immediately began to roll to
the left and, clutching the trigger on the Hornet, I fired it at a
blurred shadow that flew by just a few centimeters above me.
To my surprise, the creature didn’t even pay attention to the
dozen or so bullets I’d unloaded into its belly. Pushing myself
off the floor with my left hand and taking up a more stable
position on my right knee, I was surprised to see, through the
sight of the gun, that the monster was slowly, lazily turning
toward me. I panicked and looked for some sort of salvation,
as the name and level appeared brightly over the mob:
Meat-eater, level 9

Devs, are you nuts? What the fuck? A level 9 creature in the
noobie zone? How can you even think of putting level 9 mobs
in a zone for level 1 players?? At the time, while these
thoughts were going through my head, my body acted
automatically. Aiming down the sights at the head of the meateater, I started to fire in several short bursts. It didn’t like the
bullets that I sent into its face.
In two big leaps, he was literally two meters away from me
and, straining his hind legs, he was readying himself to jump,
aiming at my head. Moving back to the corner, I prayed to all
the gods who’d told me to raise my agility almost to the
maximum, and, turning my face toward the meat-eater, I
yelled as loudly as I could, like a fresh recruit during his first
battle:
-

Aaah, aaaahh, aaaahh, aaah, aaaahh, aaah!!!

I went on shooting; I just bathed this creature in lead
from my hip, holding the Hornet with one hand, while trying,
with the other one, to get a spare magazine out my breast
pocket. Meanwhile, I overwhelmed the meat-eater with
bullets, all the while watching his life bar moving slowly down
to zero. Now was not the time to save on cartridges, I couldn’t
pause to adjust my fire, even if I had a way to do so. Either I
kill this creature now, or, by the time it next jumped, it would
send me to respawn. Without money, perhaps without
ammunition as well, I would probably be stuck permanently
doing social quests to save up for new equipment.
After the first submachine gun burst, the meat-eater said
goodbye to its front paw and, stumbling, he stretched out on
the concrete. By that time, I’d already loaded a spare magazine
case with my left hand and, taking advantage of this
opportunity, quickly replaced the magazine, stopping the hail
of bullets just for a second. But a few seconds were enough for

this monster to act. It was clutching its broken leg, but it still
dashed to the right and ran to the wall on its three remaining,
healthy limbs. Jumping off the wall in my direction, it went
after me, heedless of the bullets I continued to pour into it,
while it was in flight.
My agility helped me again: aiming for my neck, the creature
ended up biting down on my left shoulder instead. It didn’t rip
my head off, just ended up knocking me down and wounding
me. Tearing off a good chunk of meat from me, the mob flew
to the side. Due to the momentum, we’d been thrown apart in
different directions on the concrete floor. Having difficulty
getting back on my feet, I looked around to see where the
meat-eater was and found the creature convulsively moving
about, five meters away. The bar of its life was flashing, on the
edge of being depleted.
Approaching the beast on trembling legs, I pointed the
Hornet’s muzzle at the head of this monster and pulled the
trigger. In response, I heard a hollow click, indicating the
absence of cartridges in the magazine case. Spitting to the
side, I took out a pistol, moving the bolt back with my teeth well, what else could I do with my left hand refusing to
cooperate? Getting the cartridge with difficulty, I fired the
entire magazine into the meat-eater’s head. Having confirmed
that the monster was dead at last, I sat down with my back to
its corpse, only to be overwhelmed by system messages.
Irritated, I minimized them to the tray, dropping them into the
lower right corner, and began to treat my wound.
With the help of a knife, the scraps of my sleeve and lots of
cursing to myself, I strapped down my wound, quietly
swearing because of the unbearable pain. Gee! I was really
feeling how realistic this game is: even the pain couldn’t be
compared to anything in the real world. With one hand, lots
more swear words and the creaking of my teeth, I turned
around and took out a spray bottle from my backpack, along

with the bandages, and carefully tied off the wound. By the
time I had finished giving myself first aid, my hits were frozen
at a value of seven.

Meat-eater

Inserting the last of the armed magazine cases into my
submachine gun, I turned around, carefully examining the
surrounding terrain, paying special attention to places suitable
for new mobs to be hiding. After I had made sure that there
was no danger for me, I started to load a new magazine with
bullets, looking around me every seconds, fearing for my life.

If you were to go by generally accepted game mechanics, each
mob has its own zone, but these devs had already shown that
you could expect anything from them. It’s good that, out of
habit, I’d thrown the first detached magazine into an empty
pocket; I didn’t have to search for it now. Taking the magazine
case out of my pocket, I found seven cartridges were left.
That’s real hardcore - 93 bullets had been used for one
creature, no, wait, - 105, to be exact. I’d completely forgotten
about the empty magazine in the gun.

Well, I’d fired almost half of my ammunition, not much I can
say about that. Well, I’d better collect my loot now and go
back to the base, where it’ll be possible to dismantle the
system and think about the eternal question: “What should I do
next?” Fiddling with a half-filled third magazine case for the
Hornet, I grimaced in displeasure and threw it into the bottom
pocket of the jacket. If I encounter another monster, I’ll need
the remaining bullets. 21 in my magazine case – it’s barely
anything. I turned to the corpse of the meat-eater; I put my
hand on it, waiting for the loot collection window to open up.
Hmm, that’s strange, nothing happened, so I’ll send the
request mentally:
“Loot”
“Collect loot”
“Get the loot”
…
…
I failed, even after many attempts. Do I need to drag this
creature to the base myself? I won’t pretend it’s beneath me,
I’ve done even worse things in my life. There are a lot of

noobies in the game who’ll simply be unable to do what needs
to be done. Still, carving it up right here is out of the question God forbid that another creature comes across us while I’m
working as a butcher. Damn, and the corpse is heavy when I
drag it – around sixty or seventy kilos.
Thinking it over again, I realized that I have a rope, well, not a
rope, but a cord. Folding the cord over twice and properly
tying it around the corpse left three meters of it hanging down.
I made an impromptu harness at the other end, through which I
put my right hand and head, placing the main load diagonally
across my chest. This way, my hands remained free and the
corpse could easily be transported by dragging it. Although
my little rucksack got in my way… that was OK with me.
Pulling up my socks, I dragged my dead meat-eater for a
couple of meters. Well, I can handle it, I thought, I can get to
the outpost if I take breaks. I felt acute pain from the wound
on my left shoulder and the tension of the rope digging into
me.

And so, slowly dragging the carcass of an unknown creature
behind me, I returned to the base, this time carefully
examining any potentially dangerous places. Well, at least the
devs hadn’t come up with the idea of introducing sweat and
other physiological needs into the game, otherwise I would’ve
been in trouble – it was so damn hot. Fortunately, I didn’t
come across any other creatures as I walked back to the base,
not counting a small group of players, around five people, who
stared at me in astonishment as I entered through the gate of
the outpost.
The guard who was on gate duty didn’t even pay attention to
me; maybe he’d widened his eyes in surprise or something like
that, but the helmet didn’t let me see his face and emotions.

But the other players did stare at me as I dragged my catch to
the research center, and cracked jokes or dished out barbed
comments:
- Oh, look, you can be a slogger here.”
- No, he’s just fed up with the tasteless combat rations, so he’s
caught something for dinner.
- Bwa-ha-ha, this fucking noobie doesn’t even know he’ll get
no loot for this.
- Do you see that idiot lugging a corpse around? It’s heavy,
isn’t it? I wonder if they’ll make him take it back.
Well, they kept on talking and laughing, trying to ridicule me,
saying that I’m a dull noob, that I don’t know shit, that I’m
just wasting my time and so on and so forth. Out of all the
players, only one group of three people was different, coming
out of the research center building as I was entering it. I could
see their levels –10 – and they were well-equipped compared
with the other players. That group glanced at me with a very
thoughtful look as I entered the research center, and I noticed
that they began to talk about something. It’s fine by me if they
decide to carry whole corpses back as well, but if they’re pros,
then I should keep an eye on them. There was a small stand in
the hallway of the building, behind which I saw two young
ladies, who were apparently bored.
- “Good afternoon!” - I told them.
“I was told that the laboratories would pay me for the organs
of some mutants. Can you tell me if they’ll take whole corpses
as well?
-“Um … just a minute,” one of them said, shocked.
While the first girl tried to find something to say, the second
one, judging by her thousand-yard stare, contacted someone

via the neural network. In less than a minute, a disheveled man
in yellow overalls jumped out of the door on the left. Not
paying any attention to me, he moved to the girls and just
asked “Where is it?” He received an answer in the form of
two index fingers pointing at me. Turning around, he
immediately rushed to me. On the contrary, I was mistaken, he
completely ignored me again; he rushed to the remains of the
meat-eater and, examining it from all sides, began to lament:
- “Heartless beasts! They’ve spoiled such a specimen! What
idiots decided to fill this poor mutant with lead bullets? – It
ended up being too much for me.
- “Excuse me,” I said, but was immediately interrupted by the
scientific psycho.
- “And who are you?” - He immediately looked at the girls
behind the stand. “Ladies, take this stranger out of the room,
he’s interfering with my research.”
Upon hearing this, I couldn’t stand it anymore; I stepped over
to the scientist and punched him in the face with my large
hand. I don’t know what happened to me, maybe it was down
to the emotional stress which I had experienced before. It was
strange because something like that cannot happen at my age. I
could’ve been affected by the stress of the first fight, or a
strange hormonal flux, which, in theory, shouldn’t happen to
me due to my old age. But what’s done is done. The scientist
fell over; his hands spread out, and, apparently, he lost
consciousness. I could hear someone clapping in the distance.
Turning around, I saw a young guy in tight, yellow overalls,
which fit him perfectly, in contrast to the scientist on the floor.
-

“I’ve told him to mind his language, otherwise he would
get punched in his face, but no, he didn’t listen to me, or
as he’d put it: “These Neanderthals won’t dare lift a hand
against me, because they are definitely not the sharpest
tool in the shed and their minds can’t realize the

importance of science and my contribution to it, ” - the
guy quoted the scientist, obviously mimicking him. –
“Let’s get acquainted, my name is Alfred, I’m a
representative of this research center’s biological
department.”
-Hmm … I’m Volper, very nice to meet you, Alfred. I apologize
for my behavior, but I couldn’t tolerate the guy. This creature
nearly devoured me, and your, umm … let’s say colleague,
here, kept talking about how this creature had been spoiled
and so on.
- Don’t pay him any attention, he’ll lie down for a little bit,
and then come round and become almost a sane person, well,
at least until he once more carries out any research…
-I understand everything, but can we get down to business?
Will you buy this corpse from me? Or should I make a
delicious dish or something out of it?
- Hmm … really, you need to do an analysis of the soft tissues
to see if it’s edible, and if the results of the test are positive…
-“I’m still here,” - I interrupted him again; maybe I’ve
encountered another psycho in here….
- Oh yes, excuse me. Well, considering the fact that the meateater has never before been delivered to us practically
untouched, and it’s even a mature species … If we count all the
organs and take into account their uniqueness, plus the age of
the species, in total, we can give you six thousand credits. In
addition, we’ll provide you with a regeneration capsule to heal
your wound, as an added bonus. What do you think of this
proposal?
- I’m quite happy with it. Honestly, I don’t know the price list
for mutants, but that amount is quite impressive to me right
now, and I’ll even be healed as a bonus.
-“Then, please, follow the lady called Alika,” he pointed to
one of the girls, “and while you’re recovering, I’ll transfer the
money to your account.”

CHAPTER IV: THE RAID STARTS…

Alika took me to another room on the third floor. There
were a lot of medical devices inside the room, along the walls.
Wires, coming out of these devices, led to the regeneration
capsule standing in the middle of the room. There was a locker
to the left of the entrance, into which I placed all my things.
While I was getting into the regenerator, two system messages
popped up in my view:
6,000 credits have been transferred to your account.
Sender: Research Center of Outpost No. 5-17-23.
Re: Payment for samples of mutated fauna.
You are credited with 810 experience points.
Reason: Providing samples of mutated fauna for the
scientific laboratories of the research center of outpost No.
5-17-23.
- “Has something happened?” – Alika asked me.
“No, I was just distracted by the messages of the interface,” I
reassured her and lay down in the regenerator.
-“Judging by the preliminary analysis, the regeneration will
take about an hour,” I heard her tell me through the closed lid,
“now you can relax and rest a bit.”
Once you have the free time, you need to deal with plenty of
system messages, and, if possible, plan your next steps. First
of all, I called up the logs from the battle, because I was
interested to know how the battle had gone down.

You dealt 2 points of penetrating damage to the Meat-eater.
You dealt 5 points of kinetic damage to the Meat-eater.
You didn’t hit the Meat-eater.
You missed the Meat-eater.
You didn’t hit the Meat-eater.
You dealt 2 points of penetrating damage to the Meat-eater.
You dealt 5 points of kinetic damage to the Meat-eater.
…
…
The Meat-eater dealt 32 points of penetrating damage to you.
The Meat-eater inflicted a trauma called “Lacerated wound
of the shoulder” upon you.
…
…
You dealt a critical 9 points of kinetic damage and killed the
Meat-eater.
760 experience points were obtained.
This all seemed like nonsense to me… At such distances, and
in battles like these: the dispersion of bullets should’ve been
no more than five or, at a maximum, seven centimeters, since
the distance to the target hadn’t exceed twenty meters. Okay,
what else has the system given us?

For killing an opponent of a much higher level than you
without anyone’s help, you get bonus experience, with each
level of difference between you increasing the amount of the
reward.
Received: 4,180 experience

Quickly looking at the statistics of the character, I found I was
now level four, and another 719 points of experience into level
five. Quite a lot just for one fight, although, if you recall those
three players, they’ve already reached level 10, which means
that the sky is the limit and you can achieve a lot. So, what are
these other messages?
You have acquired the skill of using pistols-machine guns.
You have acquired the skill of using one-handed pistols
You have acquired the ability to dress wounds in the field.
You have acquired the skill of quickly reloading a hand-held
automatic weapon.
Only four skills, but if you take into account how quickly the
battle ended, then I can’t really expect more. Carefully
reviewing the statistics of my character, I didn’t find these
skills, and only after a couple of minutes of brainstorming, I
tried to open the menu item “Skills”. That’s where I found the
desired skills, alongside a small description of them.
Skills acquired:
Handling of firearms: one-handed pistols - 1%
The indicator for your level of expertise at handling such
types of weapons is displayed as a percentage of the
effectiveness in use, based on the technical attributes of the
weapon.
Handling of firearms: pistols-machine guns - 4%
The indicator for your level of expertise at handling such
types of weapons is displayed as a percentage of the
effectiveness in use, based on the technical attributes of the
weapon.

Dressing wounds in the field - 2%
The indicator for the speed, accuracy and correctness of
dressing wounds in the field
Quick reloading of manual and automatic weapons - 1%
The indicator, which affects the speed at which you swap out
ammunition for this type of weapon, is shown as a
percentage; it increases your speed above the baseline
average.
To be honest, I was already fed up with all of these
complicated descriptions. I understood everything about the
wound dressing after one read, but I had to re-read the other
three skills’ descriptions several times. And then re-read them
again. I was then able to puzzle some things out. First of all, it
was now clear to me why I’d missed the mark so many times –
it was because I’d been using only four percent of all my
abilities. Secondly, your level doesn’t play a special role in
here; the main thing is how well your skills are developed.
Finally, I was very lucky not to have died with only starter
skills at my disposal.
And now for the flip side of the coin. There were a lot of
questions left and plenty of small discrepancies. First, why do
levels exist at all, if they don’t influence the game? Of course,
I suspect that they’ll matter sometime in the future, but I don’t
yet see the actual application of these levels. Second, where
are the mutants? I’ve seen people, I’ve even noticed a couple
of cyborgs, but there’ve been no mutants, although you could
choose to be a mutant at the start. The only theory I could
come up with was based on Lita’s words: she’d mentioned
mutant people, who are hiding from the government.

I suspect that there’s a different starting location and, possibly,
we are on different sides of the trenches. Third, why could I
feel such hellish pain in the game? Yeah, almost every game
has some sort of pain effect, but not even close to realistic. At
some points, while pulling my trophy back to the base camp,
I’d had a feeling that the pain was even more intense than it
would be in reality. I can’t comprehend that. Fourth, where are
the fucking drops? In absolutely every other game world there
are drops, which either immediately drop from the monster, or
are obtained by accessing the system. Here you had to do
everything by yourself.
If you want to get the heart of a meat-eater, go ahead and open
its chest, cut the blood vessels and you’ll have a freshly cut
out, still beating heart in your hand, along with a pool of
blood, guts and viscera. Adding to that, quests, as I know
them, are not available here. Even near the store, where I’d
been shopping, several players had discussed how they’d
received a lot of tasks, but the system hadn’t highlighted any
of them, or, as they say, remembered them by heart.

There are already a lot of strange things in this game: from
awkward players to the absence of quests. As for the quests
themselves, it’s all very questionable, especially if you
consider the notification I’d received upon completing the task
of connecting to the interface. Beyond that, there’s also my
strange behavior. Having basically lived out my entire, humble
life, I’ve learned how to behave perfectly in different
situations, which has saved my life more than once, and yet
here I was behaving like a 14-year-old boy: first flirting with
Lita, then beating up that scientist.

And finally: why the hell did the devs create such a hardcore
battle in the very beginning? Also, it’s forbidden to invest real

money into your account during the first month. I don’t care, I
can’t do that anyway, but why on earth can’t the other players
do that? That is, like, one of the main sources of income for
game developers, I think. Okay, we’ll sort it out later, but for
now, it would be better to take a nap – oh, my fatigue has
reached up to forty units.
…I was woken up by the sound of the regenerator’s door
opening. I examined my left shoulder immediately and didn’t
even find a scar. Getting out of the capsule, I saw no one in the
room but me. I’d just started mentally criticizing the
employees here when I found out there were several cameras,
positioned all around the room. Without a second thought, I
got dressed and, having gathered all my belongings, I left the
regeneration room. I had a burning desire to try to get quests in
the research center. But while I’d been dreaming, my mind had
already thought up a plan for my progress.
Quickly getting to the store, where the queue was already
small and, waiting for my turn, I did some shopping. Six
thousand credits aren’t much: I barely managed to get together
the bare minimum to implement my idea. And I planned to
leave for a week, somewhere far, far away. Listening to my
paranoid instincts, I didn’t sell my previous weapons, but on
the contrary, I bought some new, additional weapons. I hid my
old ammunition in my room, just in case of an unforeseen
death, so that I could at least have some kind of weapon. After
inspecting and checking my equipment twice, I got undressed
and lay down in the replicator – it was my bed. I mustn’t
forget to pay for the room in the morning. This was the last
thought I had before I fell into the arms of Morpheus.
**************************************************************

A directed explosion destroyed the doors of the room two grenades were thrown in: an electromagnetic one with a

small radius and a fragmentation bomb. After two explosions,
an assault group with short-barreled pulse rifles designed for
close combat immediately broke into it. After making sure it
was safe enough to enter, I aimed my gun at the windows of
the second floor. The first floor would have to be cleared by
the fighters without me covering them, because all the
windows are obstructed by all kinds of garbage, excluding the
possibility of not only storming through them but even
shooting through.
Noticing some movement, I turned my gaze toward the
balcony, on which stood a mutant, formerly an ordinary man,
but now with a disproportionately large head and several rows
of sharpened teeth, a big acid gland in the Adam’s apple
region and three-fingered hands; the rest of the body was
hidden by civilian clothes. Aiming at his head through the
sight, I softly pulled the trigger. The resulting small poke to his
shoulder meant I’d missed the mark initially. A moment later,
the mutant’s head cracked, splashing a brownish-green liquid
all over the wall.
- Covering group, this is Falcon, an acid mutant on the
balcony near the entrance has been eliminated, the acid could
drip down, keep off the balcony.
“Understood, Falcon, we’re going around the balcony.”
Aiming through the windows accessible to me and not finding
any targets, I picked up the rifle and, accelerating, jumped
onto the next roof, correcting the landing with my gravity
compensators. Moving to the top, I took up a new position on
the fifth roof.
-“Assault group, this is Falcon, report” - I whispered into the
coms, trying to catch my breath.

- Falcon, this is Bison, the first floor is almost clear, we found
something fucking horrific down here.
- Bison, what the fuck are you doing down there? What did you
find?
- Vovka, you won’t believe it, but we found what must be the
remains of hundreds of people the mutants have eaten. We
barely avoided puking.

If Bison was calling me by my real name over the radio,
then things were going really poorly. After considering the
situation for a few moments, I made a decision.
- “Cover group, this is Falcon, remain on alert!” immediately after that, I sent another message on the radio –
“Bison, this is Falcon, you’ll be escorted - on the way out,
clean up the ground floor and take up a defensive position, I’m
joining you.”
- “Falcon, this is Black, received!” - said the commander of
the outer ring of cover.
- Falcon, this is Karp, received! - And the inner ring
commander responded as well.
- Falcon, this is Bison, waiting on you!
After spending a couple of minutes checking the second floor
through the electronic optics, I eliminated two more targets
along the way. I reached over my shoulder and groped for the
handle of the short-barreled power machine. The grips that
held the machine released right after my hand gripped the hilt
of the machine. Folding the end on the rifle and switching the
barrel over into marching mode, I threw it onto the vacant seat.
Then I jumped off the roof with the automatic device,
activated the gravity compensators literally a meter from the
ground and, not sparing the battery’s charge, rushed to the site
of clearing, pushing the suit for all it could give.

Bison was waiting for me near the entrance. At my
questioning look, he simply nodded, inviting me to follow
him. After passing a couple of rooms, he stopped before a turn
at the end of the corridor, which led to the last room, and let
me go forward, obviously not wanting to go back in there
again. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I went into
the room. If I’d understood correctly, the mutants had been
dining here: there were pieces of meat everywhere, bones, and
the half-decomposed corpses of people. Mutants were believed
to have been people in the past, until they fell into the hands of
a crazy scientist who began testing various mutagens on them.
After such cruel experiments, the mutants didn’t even have a
grain of reason or humanity left, only some basic instincts
remained.
The Intelligence Service had obtained information about him
and had decided to seize him, so he could be transferred to the
Supreme Court to face charges of crimes against humanity.
This room seems to be where he kept the results of his
experiments. At the same time, unsuccessful copies and people
who were simply unsuitable, he simply fed to his creatures. I
could hardly stop myself from vomiting into my helmet. And
then I noticed, in one of the far corners, a small hand clutching
a puppet. Something clicked inside of me, my eyes darkened
and my mind just turned off. From somewhere deep within my
core, a primordial roar broke free.
**************************************************************

I woke up in a state close to madness, ready to tear apart
anyone who came close to me. After taking a few deep breaths
and exhaling, I calmed down a little. Of course, I’d heard that
when I sleep in the virtual world, the brain starts bringing out
my old memories in the form of a dream, but, according to

statistics, these were such rare cases that I hadn’t even
imagined that this could ever happen to me. I was glad that,
according to those same statistics, the same person hasn’t had
more than one or two such dreams happen. It seemed that I’d
completely forgotten that operation for a long time, but my
subconscious had managed to dredge up this memory from the
deepest recesses of my mind.
After some morning exercises, I was able to completely calm
down and was ready for a new day of development and
farming. After breakfast, I began to put on my outfit and,
tightening up all the dangling elements, according to my old
habit, jumped a couple of times, checking to see if the
ammunition was loose. Satisfied, I opened the statistics of my
character with a chuckle:
Name: Volper
Level: 4
Experience: 719/4862
…
…
…

Skills:
Handling firearms: one-handed pistols - 1%
Handling firearms: pistols-machine guns - 4%
Dressing wounds in the field- 2%
Quick reloading of a manual automatic weapon - 1%
Professions: Personal account: 1,124 credits
Having stopped at the item “Personal account”, I felt my mood
worsening. There were still a little more than a thousand

credits left, and I’d have to pay for the room. But there was
nowhere to go, if everything went well with the raid, then I’d
be back, probably in about a week, and the free
accommodation period was going to expire in six days. I’m
glad that I’d managed to buy all sorts of things: dry soup, a
couple of additional jars for water, a sleeping bag, a large
backpack with a fifty-liter capacity, and a bunch of other
things necessary for a long expedition.
My clothes, in general, resembled the old stuff, only there
were inserts with aramid fiber, which strengthened the
material, and the elbow pads and knees had polymer
reinforcement. I took pride in my new weapons, into which I’d
invested most of my money - a small-caliber machine gun
pistol, the “Corsair”, two “Recon” pistols, one of which I’d
placed on the left hip, and the second one was in the
operational holster. On the shoulder strap of the holster was
also a knife with the handle pointed down. Lovingly touching
my Corsair, I again opened up the window with the attributes
of my weapons and ammunition:
The “Recon” pistol
Ammunition: 4.71x18
Range: 20 meters.
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 40
Shooting modes: single
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.63 kg
Magazine case of the gun “Recon”
Ammunition: 4.71x18
Amount of cartridges: 16

Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.13 kg
Rifled cartridge “4.71x18”
Kinetic damage: 9-12
Penetration damage: 4-7
Condition: 100%
Cartridge Weight: 3.2 gr
Small-caliber machine gun pistol ” Corsair “
Ammunition: 4.71x18
Range: 50 meters
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 400
Shooting modes: single, automatic
Condition: 100%
Weight: 2.7 kg
Magazine case for a small-caliber machine gun pistol
“Corsair”
Ammunition: 4.71x18
Amount of cartridges: 50
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.25 kg
Eight spare magazine cases for the Corsair and two spare
stripper clips for each gun. I hoped this would be enough,
otherwise I’d have to come back earlier. Most importantly, I’d
installed a damper on the Corsair instead of a muzzle brake.
Provided I have subsonic cartridges, it’ll work well as a
muffler. Better, of course, would be to have a baffle with

obturators, but carrying a heap of replaceable rubber bands
and changing them every couple of magazine cases would be a
pain in the ass. Going down to the information terminal near
the entrance, I paid for the room for another week. I’d first
wanted to go to Lita, but then changed my mind and went to
the gate which led out of the outpost.
Having passed the gateway that led to the outside world, I got
my submachine gun ready and slowly moved along the wall,
not choosing an obstructed street, so that it would lead me into
the city. Beginning to delve deeper down the street I’d chosen,
I started creeping slowly, putting my foot down on the outside
of the toe and rolling it smoothly until the foot was completely
on the ground once more. A bit uncomfortable and an
extremely slow way of movement, which has a big advantage you can move as quietly as possible, and I had time to
carefully inspect the space in front of me after every meter of
movement. After walking for about fifty meters along the
street, I noticed a stir in one of the piles of construction debris.
Crouching on my right knee and aiming the point of the
Corsair at the pile, I picked up a small pebble with my left
hand and tossed it into the area, immediately grabbing my
forearm, stabilizing the weapon.
Remembering my first meeting with the local mobs, I was
expecting another hardcore battle and was a little surprised
when two of the usual rats jumped out and headed toward me.
It was a very visible move, each of them came up to my knee
and the description above them indicated they were level 3.
Holding the rifle, I let them run for about seven meters and
exhaled the excess air from my lungs to steady my shot. After
shooting the first one, without looking at the results, I aimed at
the second one with a small turn of the case and fired another
round of cartridges, no more than five. Again, directing the
rifle back to the first one, I found that the rat was already not
showing any signs of life. The second rat was still twitching
on the floor, but could no longer move by itself. The

ammunition needed to be used sparingly, so I went to finish it
with a knife, slightly lowering the barrel of the Corsair, but
still continuing to squeeze its handle.
After driving the knife into the rat’s skull a couple of times, I
wiped the knife on her dead corpse. Having carefully
examined both corpses, I found only two bullet holes in the
first one, the same for the second one. After changing the
magazine cases, I did some thinking. So, my aim was still
poor. As a result of that, out of nine bullets fired - only three
had been hits. That result was depressing. Of course, the
number of hits could be seen through the logs, but,
unfortunately, they didn’t take into account the shots that had
hit a corpse, but I was interested in my real accuracy, and not
just the amount of damage dealt. Thus, I needed to determine
the optimal distance of combat fire at my current level of skill
development. Unfortunately, for now, I could only manage
slightly effective shooting at a distance of up to five meters.
Leaving the corpses lying around, I went to the pile of
construction debris, from which the rats had jumped out. After
all, if they were crouching there, then there would be
something to find. Carefully moving through the pile of debris,
I found a partially gnawed body. After examining the
equipment, I came to the conclusion that it had been an
incautious newcomer, with minimal equipment. In another
situation, I would’ve removed everything from his body, but
right now I didn’t need to be overly burdened. There was a
hole, a short distance away from the body. Taking out a small
headlamp from the backpack and putting it on my longsuffering head, I put the muzzle of the machine gun and my
head into this hole. Judging by the unevenness of the walls, the
rats must’ve gnawed through it. The way led somewhere into
the sewage or something else entirely: depending on what the
devs had created here, under the concrete. On the one hand, it
was worth crawling around to check it out, the size of the hole
allowed it, but on the other hand, I was halted by the

probability of an attack in a cramped space, without the ability
to maneuver.
Thinking over the situation from multiple angles, I decided to
explore the place. If there were basically similar rats there,
then I would have a good opportunity to pump up my skills.
Well, even if they ate me, then there would always be an
opportunity to return for my remains. Having decided on a
course of action, I headed for the dwelling of the rats. I
immediately threw off my backpack and attached a
submachine gun to it. Also, I emptied my chest pockets of the
spare magazine cases so that they didn’t hinder me when
crawling. The height of the manhole didn’t allow me to crawl
with a backpack on my back, so I had to tie it with a piece of
rope to my ankle. Taking a pistol into each hand, I crawled
into the hole.
I had to crawl for about five minutes, stopping at every rustle
and stretching my arms forward, feeling out the remainder of
the pass in sight. Fortunately, I crawled through without any
adventures. When I reached the exit from this hole, I slowly
poked my head out to examine the surrounding space. It was
part of a concrete pipe, about seven meters in diameter. Along
the right and left walls there were many smaller pipes and
energy wires, leaving about 2,5 or even 3 meters of clearance
to move along the aisle. Various wires and tubes ran under the
ceiling. To the left, the passage went far away into the
darkness and its edges weren’t visible. On the right, there was
a huge hole in the floor, formed, apparently, because of the
dilapidated structure. A little light came from the hole. Once I
got to the cracked space, I approached it, interested in the
source of the lights. Stopping at the edge, I admired the view. I
was looking from a height of about five hundred meters to a
huge, partially destroyed metropolis, in which the lighting still
remained in places. It was beautiful in its grandness, despite
the devastation that had happened to its streets.

- “So, this is the fourth level,” – admiring it a little, I
regretfully added, “I’m sad to admit it, but I’m too weak for
you right now.”

CHAPTER V: WANDERING IN COMPLETE DARKNESS

After contemplating and admiring the city below, I peered into
the darkness behind the illuminated area of the lantern and,
heavily sighing, grumbled to myself:
“Well, Volper, let’s clear these catacombs!”
I tried to move as quietly as possible, carefully following the
passage and listening for any noises or rustling. I understood
these actions were useless: my headlamp would warn
everything about my approach far ahead of me, even before I
could notice my enemy, and that was despite my acute senses.
So, in the end, my enemies appeared suddenly, exactly as I’d
expected: a small mischief of rats - five heads - attacked me
much faster than I could see them. I only learned about their
approach from their loud squeaking, which gave me the
opportunity to stop and prepare for the battle.
As soon as the first creature came into the circle of light, I
immediately aimed at it with my gun and began to retreat
slowly, trying to keep at a distance suitable for shooting. After
spending half a magazine of bullets to kill four rats, I waited
anxiously for any new enemies, peering intently into the
corridor, but completely forgot about the pipes going along the
sides. I was inattentive and ended up paying my dues. The
fifth rat had, apparently, run along the pipes, not the floor, and
I noticed it only when it was already jumping from the pipes,
aiming for my head.
I’d just managed to get my Corsair gun under the mouth of the
rat when I was thrown back from a blow. The submachine gun
flew from my hand into the darkness. Having recovered, I
rolled over my shoulder and jumped to my feet, my body bent

as I waited for the rat to jump at me again. I pulled out a knife
with my right hand. My left hand was in front of me, with my
palm open and pointed toward the enemy.
The rat was in front of me, slightly bending its front paws and
opening its mouth in a predatory grin, showing me its fangs,
from which saliva dripped onto the concrete floor. We were
separated by only two meters, but this creature couldn’t decide
whether to jump at me or not. My lantern blinded it, since it
was accustomed to the darkness, and the rat, most likely, was
confused, not sure where it was aiming. It apparently chose the
lantern as the most vulnerable thing and jumped toward it,
pointing its front paws and mouth at the top of my head.
Noticing how the rat was lowering the back side of its torso
slightly, already preparing to jump, I stepped forward, with my
left foot slightly ahead, and at the moment of the jump I
transferred the weight to it and rotated, removing myself from
the path of its leap. Passing the body of the rat, I caught it with
my left hand, by the scruff. Using the inertia of the rat, which
turned me around, I dropped myself on top of it, pressing it
down to the ground with my elbow and body. Once on top,
without wasting time, I thrust the knife I was holding onto
tightly into its throat, making sure to widen the wound even
further with my return motion.
In a mere moment, when the blood stopped flowing from its
throat, the rat stopped twitching under me. Only the slight
shudders of its death convulsion were felt. Waiting until the
carcass of the rat had calmed down completely, I rose from the
ground and went to look for my Corsair. Of course, it was
possible to simply fight these rats, without any complicated
tricks. I could’ve just grabbed the rat by its throat while it had
been jumping, but these creatures have one nasty feature: they
can easily tear into their victims with the claws on their hind
legs. I’d once observed something like this in one of the
colonies, where a cat had been fighting with a rat.

Picking up my submachine gun, I immediately reloaded it, and
then threw the strap over my shoulder, so that next time I
wouldn’t lose my weapon. After a couple of minutes’ rest, I
slowly moved on to exploring these catacombs. About ten
minutes later, on the left side of me, I found a metal door
without a single sign or a lock. Communications wires,
however, went into the wall, on either side of the door. Letting
go of my Corsair, so that it hung down my belt, around my
neck, and freeing up my right hand, I took out a pistol.
I lightly pressed my hand to the door, opening a gap of ten
centimeters to check the room out. Having inspected the open
space and finding nothing dangerous waiting for me, I opened
the door gradually. When I came in, I saw a small room with
only a couple of empty racks, a metal table, several chairs and
a washstand with an old tap. I had already been dreaming of
secret bunkers, with a bunch of ammunition under the guard of
all sorts of special equipment, and then I found an ordinary
room for technicians to rest in. But there were advantages to
this, I could barricade myself in this room and go to bed
without worrying about my safety.
I closed the door and resumed examining the corridors.
Having reached the first crossroads, I turned to the left,
according to the old man’s tradition. After literally a dozen
meters, some fleshy tentacles appeared in the beam of the
lantern, sticking out in a chaotic disorder from the walls, floor
and even the ceiling, breaking most of the communications
wires with their enormous mass. When I looked at them, the
neural interface was silent, not displaying any level for these
tentacles. It was as if the system didn’t see them; there was no
data on them.
Switching my Corsair into single-fire mode, I approached to a
minimum distance and made a test shot at the nearest tentacle.

Immediately, all the tentacles began to thrash all over the
place, wherever they could reach. I wondered if this was one
big creature, letting its tentacles through the concrete, or a
colony of smaller creatures that had a common brain. Looking
into the logs, I didn’t find anything about the damage,
although the hole from the bullet was clearly visible. Shooting
about thirty rounds of bullets into the same tentacle, I didn’t
get any results - it was contradictory to the game logic, indeed.
The neurointerface doesn’t see these creatures or this creature,
my shots are not displayed in the logs, and, most importantly,
all my firing didn’t produce any results at all. The tentacles
also continued to move, despite a bunch of wounds, and were
now covered with a whitish liquid. While I was pondering this,
I noticed how one of the first wounds began to regenerate.
That’s funny, they even undergo a regeneration process. I
noticed the time on the neurointerface: four minutes and the
wound had completely disappeared, the spot different from the
rest of the tentacle only due to a slightly lighter pigmentation.
No matter how you look at it, there’s no use in wasting my
weapons. This requires a plasma gun or a laser to cut them off
at the root. Calling up the map and leaving a note about this
place on it, I moved on in the opposite direction. I often came
across lone rats, sometimes even small groups of up to five
rats, which I regularly fired at. On average, there were mobs
from level 2-7 - almost classics of the sewage in the starting
cities of many virtual games. At approximately every
kilometer, there were technical premises similar to the first I’d
seen.
I opened each of the rooms cautiously and there was just
emptiness everywhere I looked. The difference between them
was only in the number of shelves and chairs they had. But I
didn’t despair and carefully marked every room on the map in
my neural interface, with notes on the state of the room, so I
knew where to find cover if necessary. Along the way, I noted
all the stairs leading to holes in the ceiling. I suspect that they

would lead to the city, but I have yet to manage opening one.
At the first opportunity, I need to compare my map with the
map of the land so that I can have backup plans for where I
can retreat to.
Most of the passages ended in debris and various kinds of
destruction, which didn’t allow me to go any further. Over
time, there were fewer and fewer unexplored passages and
rooms where I could have some rest and not fear death.
Sometimes it took me about twenty minutes to go back, but
only if I was lucky enough to run into enemies two or three
times at most, when exploring a new passage. The scheme of
the tunnels clearly showed what the system was like, but
frequent dead ends turned them into a maze. A couple of
times, I even managed to get into the same tunnels in a
roundabout way, only on the other side of the obstruction.
After wandering around this labyrinth for four hours, I went
into one of the technical rooms and, after blocking the door, I
took off my ammunition since I was too tired to keep going.
Spreading out my sleeping bag on the floor, I sat down on it,
moving my legs underneath me. I wanted to rest a while and,
at the same time, have a bite to eat. While eating one of my
soldier’s rations, I looked through the info in my
neurointerface.
First name: Volper
Level: 7
Experience: 521/45027
…
…
…
Skills:
Handling one-handed pistols - 12%

Shooting with both hands - 4%
Handling machine gun pistols - 25% (further development is
blocked until your status as a third-class specialist is
confirmed)
Handling a Knife / Dagger 9%
Dressing wounds in the field- 2%
Quick reloading of a manual automatic weapon - 3%
Quiet movement - 17%
Professions: Personal account: 3,251 credits
Sitting and reading all of that, I found I was pleased with the
advances I’d made, and then came the nasty surprise: it was so
sudden that I choked on my food. Noticing that I was sitting
with my mouth open, I first shut it, and then I cursed very
loudly. Then I began to give myself a hard time:
“So, you moron! Do you think you’re a hotshot? Fuck no! You
aren’t a gamer, you aren’t experienced, and you couldn’t
organize a fart in a baked bean factory. Who stopped you from
setting up a normal alert system right away?”
I tend to rush from one extreme to the other. After my
fight with the meat-eater, the alerts that had popped up in front
if my eyes were removed so as not to disturb me, and when I
went to the regenerator, I turned off the notifications to take a
little nap. It’s been about a day since then, and I still haven’t
set them up properly; I didn’t even turn them on to see what
the system had wanted to tell me. That’s how I ended up
calmly running around these catacombs, shooting monsters,
without even seeing what was happening to my character. So, I
should open the system menu. Okay, here are the system
alerts, just below the list of settings and the different
templates. Oh, that’s just right for me. After searching for

some time, and adjusting the settings, I turned on the system
alerts.
And they appeared not right in front of my eyes, but in the
lower left corner, in a small, translucent window with the
possibility of scrolling down, where the pictogram of the
weapons had been. The only inconvenience was the small text
of the alerts, but with a mental command, the alert would
unfold before my eyes. In this mode, when they appeared, they
won’t block my view, but I won’t be able to miss them, and if
necessary, I’ll read them in detail – I could also always close
them. I’m scrolling to the top right now. What do we have
here… Okay, it’s after the battle, I got money for the corpse,
that’s what I was notified about during the treatment; a little
further down are the details about my purchases and… Oh,
that’s interesting:
Attention! You’ve entered the spontaneously formed
dungeon “The Lair of the Rats”. This dungeon is designed
for a group of players from level two to four.
Attention! You’re entering the dungeon alone. In case you
complete the dungeon for the first time and do so by yourself,
the reward will be increased.
Holy Christ! What have I done?! I went into a dungeon and
didn’t even notice it. After all, there had been no barriers or
other ways to restrict a player’s access to the dungeon. Not
only that, but there haven’t been any barriers to prevent others
from following me inside! What a marvelous bit of chaos.
Okay, let’s check the new list. Yeah, I’d gotten the skill of
silent movement, and then the knife one in the battle with the
first group of rats, judging by the time I got it. Hmm … and
this looks like the description I got when I saw those weird
tentacles:

Attention! You have discovered a creature that is not in the
database; the classification of the creature is not available,
and the calculation of the damage is not possible. We
recommend that you provide a record of the neurointerface
to the research center of any outpost. If you provide a sample
of the creature as well, the reward will increase significantly.
Attention! An unknown creature has blocked your access to
one part of the level. Clearing this part is optional.
Attention! If you clear the blocked part of the level, the
reward will be increased.
So, what could I even say to that? Nothing! At first, the system
says “you don’t need to go there!”, and then maliciously adds
“but there are delicious cookies in there if you do.” The
following message also piqued my interest:
Attention! You’ve discovered a safe zone. By blocking the
door to the technical room, you’ve made it so you can rest
without worrying about your safety. The time spent in the
safe zone is not counted as the time it took you to go through
the dungeon.
I guess I could take less precautions with the rooms, then. At
least one thing is good about all of this: I can stay here for as
long as I like, without worrying about time running out, which
means I can take an hour long nap to knock the fatigue meter
down to zero and continue clearing the dungeon. I quickly
looked through the rest of the system messages, which were
filled with alerts about the killings, my money, and raising my
skills, In a word, nothing more interested me. I finished my
ration, washed it down with water from a jar and, setting an
alarm in the neurointerface, I climbed into the sleeping bag to
forget about everything. Just before the moment I fell asleep, I

thought about how the messages were somehow wrong about
the tentacles, but I ignored it, and plunged myself into the
abyss of nothingness called sleep.
I woke up with a vile squeaking in my head. I turned off my
alarm and got out of the sleeping bag. Having a bite of my dry
ration and handling all the ammunition, I was ready to
continue clearing the dungeon. I glanced once again at the
room in which I’d been resting, in order not to forget anything.
Not finding anything important, I went out into the corridor.
Looking at the map, I moved further into the unexplored parts
of this labyrinth.
After about an hour of constantly shooting the local
“inhabitants,” I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Though it
sounds ambiguous and metaphorical, I meant that quite
literally. Turning off the headlight, I continued walking in a
crouch. The tunnel led me to a large room where all the
communications converged. The room had three tiers going
upwards, with a multitude of transitions and bridges leading to
various assemblies, all of it quite incomprehensible to me.
Well, I’m not a technician; I can only tell a bomb apart from a
peaceful device … Although, to be honest, it’s not always
possible for me to find a way to do even that. The center of the
hall was empty: it was on the first tier, on the edge of which I
was right now.
Along the walls were various large devices, to which the wires
and pipes that had accompanied me all the way through this
labyrinth led. On the opposite side of me there was a stirring
mountain, six meters high, consisting of rats. Apparently, I’d
come across the boss of the dungeon. It looks like the rats had
been waiting for me here. They had extraordinary attributes
and some petty tricks besides, so it would be a real fight.

From my right came the squeak of a rat, and I, reflexively
turning around, cut it off with a short thrust from of one of the
knives. The realization of what a stupid thing I’d just done
made me turn my head abruptly toward the mountain of rats
on the opposite side of the room. The whole crouching mass
froze, glancing in my direction with a lot of beady eyes and, a
moment later, issuing a many-voiced squeaking, this mountain
descended like an avalanche, bringing an unstoppable rat river
in my direction.
- “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” – I screamed, retreating into the
depths of the tunnel, while shooting the flood of rats with
lead bullets.
Well, is this why everything in this game has been going assbackwards for me from the very start? It seems that I’d relaxed
while being in retirement and weaned myself away from the
constant tension that had kept my body and mind alert and
alive before. Step by step, I retreated deeper into the darkness,
without skimping on the ammo I was using on the rats.
Aiming my shots was out of the question. With my right hand,
pressing the Corsair to my hip, I just fired randomly, holding
the trigger down. At the same time, after switching the empty
magazine cases out with the new ones, I would simply leave
the empty ones on the floor. I had barely enough time to
reload, although the magazines could do about seven or eight
seconds of continuous fire.
But some of the rats overtook their brethren, running through
the pipes, trying to reach my throat with a jump, so they forced
me to protect myself against their sharp teeth using my left
hand, and then I’d finish off those little motherfuckers by
hitting them against the concrete wall. It was a massacre for
them. Also, my movement was slowed down further by the
rare, solo rat combatants, which would break through a flurry
of fire and try to cling to my feet. After the third magazine

case, a light smoke began to come out of the Corsair, after the
sixth, it was already so hot that light was coming from the gun,
which lit up the darkness of the passage into which I had
retreated.
I loaded the last magazine case and, being hardly able to hear
anything because of the wounds I’d suffered, I unbuckled the
belt of the submachine gun, so that when the magazine was
spent, I could quickly drop the Corsair and, finding the handle
of the gun, pull it out of its holster. At this point, my fighting
friend, unfortunately, let me down, and didn’t fire. Well, these
guns weren’t designed for such intense use. This isn’t a
machine gun, nitwit, I thought to myself. Having pulled out
the second pistol with my free hand, I gripped it in both hands
and blindly fired bullets without pausing, shooting at the rats
about two meters ahead of me, according to the map.
Just a few meters behind me there was a technical room,
where I had a chance to find cover, but almost immediately, a
blow to the body knocked me off my feet. Due to the impact, I
dropped both guns and was already lying on the ground,
feeling the sharp teeth of the rats digging into my limbs.
Turning away, I took out the knife and began to stab and cut,
without knowing where I was heading. I don’t even know how
long I waved the knife around, but at some point, I realized
that I was no longer being gnawed on.
I didn’t feel my legs and my left hand, only the right hand,
with the knife still in it, remained active. I was crawling,
overcoming the pain, with only a single hand still functioning.
Those last few meters seemed to me like a mile-long obstacle
course. I think I lost consciousness a few times while I was
crawling, because the journey felt like an eternity, with only
periodic flashes of consciousness. And so I was crawling,
clenching my teeth. Then I tried to lock the door behind me,
but in the end, I simply closed it by pushing against it with my
body weight. Another period of consciousness came to me and

I started trying to put a bandage on my wounds. Then I lost
consciousness, and plunged into the darkness, leaving me oneon-one with the ghosts of my past.
**************************************************************

After taking Babay behind the tree, I laid his head on the roots,
and sat beside him, glancing at the bushes through which we’d
come here. We had been chased for almost a full 24 hours, and
in the last hour and a half, the pursuers were nowhere to be
found. I hoped they’d lost our tracks. Babay was in a bad way.
Four hours ago, he’d taken a plasma charge to the stomach,
which had burned through his suit and given him a serious
wound. In spite of everything, I tried to get him to my people.
He wasn’t just my partner; he’d taught me everything I knew.
Long ago, he’d taken a completely green fighter under his care
and, more than once, had saved me from various hellish
situations. Now he needed my help, and whatever I had to do,
I would definitely get him out.
-“Falcon …” - he began intermittently.
-“Don’t worry, Babay, another three hours, or maybe four, and
I’ll get you to our …”
-“Shut up … It’s hard for me … to speak …” - he interrupted
me, squeezing out every word with difficulty. “More … I can’t
… survive … With me … You won’t get far …” After a minute’s
pause, breathing heavily, he continued. – “Information … You
have to … send … You know … Rules … Help … I cannot …”.
After hearing him say those words, with a quiet hiss, the
armored plates disconnected from his helmet and moved
down, making it possible to remove the helmet from his head.
But it wasn’t necessary to remove it, he’d asked for something
completely different, but I couldn’t make myself… Yes, I fully
understood the importance of the information we had on us,

and I knew the fucking rule about preserving it, written in tons
of blood. But I couldn’t do that to my friend. Babay was like a
father to me.
“Get on with it!… Please …”
And I made up my mind! I took out a knife, I thrust it into his
neck, cutting the larynx and severing the vertebrae. A quick
death, that’s what Babay had asked me for. It’s only in
romanticized stories that an intelligence agency does not give
up on its members; in real life, everything’s completely
different.
“May you rest in peace, my old friend.” People like you never
truly die, they just return to heaven, waiting for their next rebirth.
With a heavy heart, I turned away and crawled to the point
designated for rendezvousing with the evacuation team. Five
minutes later, there was a small explosion - it was the
elimination system sewn into our outfit, which, in case of
death, was triggered by a timer, provided that there were no
friendly targets in the blast zone. Then, when I returned to the
base, I began to drink a lot. I drank for almost a week, but
even the unit commander stayed silent about it. A month later,
a reward came for Babay; he’d been awarded a crystal star
posthumously.

CHAPTER VI: WORSE THINGS CAN HAPPEN… SOMETIMES

To my surprise, I woke up in the same room, feeling hungry
and thirsty. My injured limbs ached badly and I couldn’t move
them. Looking around in the interface, I found that my life bar
had just 14 units left. But the thirst and hunger meters were
completely full, and the fatigue level was frozen at the halfway point, and then, right in front of my eyes, it increased by
one more point. Turning on the lantern, I pulled up my
backpack, which was almost torn apart beside me. I took out a
ration and ate it ferociously, swallowing pieces practically
without chewing them. Having dealt with my hunger, I poured
almost a whole jar of water down my throat. I felt relieved and
decided to look around.
I was coated all over in hemostatic powder, which had come
from the bandages that I’d used to try to stop my bleeding. My
legs and left arm were wrapped in several layers, with the
bandages holding on precariously. I was torn up, and surprised
that I’d managed to survive. I wonder how? To get an answer
to this question, I looked first at the logs, but as usual, there
was only statistical data of the damage dealt and received, plus
the info about the experience I’d accrued. I had to switch to
system messages. They were much more interesting.
Attention! Your left arm is injured. The mobility of the limb
is reduced until it is once more fully restored.
Attention! Your right foot suffered a trauma. Speed and load
capacity are reduced until the limb is fully recovered.
Attention! Your left leg is injured. Speed and load capacity
are reduced until the limb is fully recovered.

Attention! You are at death’s door. You must get first aid,
otherwise you will die.
Attention! You were able to stop the bleeding. The loss of
health has been stopped.
Congratulations! You managed to survive with only one unit
of health remaining.
Reward: You’ve unlocked the ability of the neurointerface to
stimulate the regeneration of your cells.
Congratulations! You’ve received the “Between life and
death” achievement.
Conditions: Survive with your life total being equal to one
unit, without any assistance.
Reward: Obtaining Regeneration Skills.
Reward: an award pin, visible to all owners of the
neurointerface. The display mode is enabled in the system
settings.
Attention! The level of thirst is full. Have something to
drink; otherwise, your health will start to deteriorate.

Attention! The level of hunger is full. Eat up; otherwise,
otherwise, your health will start to deteriorate.
Attention! Regeneration has stopped.
Reason: lack of necessary chemical elements in the body.

Well, now I get it. I have acquired the regeneration function,
but for it to operate, you need to eat well. When I looked at the
clock in the interface, my eyes bugged out. It turns out that
seven hours have passed since the start of the battle. I wanted
to take another look at the status of my character, but a sudden
bout of sleepiness knocked me down. So I fell asleep, not even
eating another piece of my dry ration. I woke up due to the
persistent squeaking of the system message for the second
time:
Message to all! The first clan association, the Legion, has
been created! It has the status of a free paramilitary
formation. As an added incentive, the government of
Alfarome allocates territory for the clan association to use
and awards them a 15% discount in all governmental offices.
Yeah, there’s the first clan created. Why were they so slow?
The clans tend to be created in the first hours, in new games.
And here it’s only by the end of the third day, and only the first
clan has been registered. But that’s all clan affairs, I shouldn’t
worry about it. I need to focus on my current situation. My life
bar 43 units, fatigue was empty, and hunger was now empty
again as well. The attempt to move my hand was successful
and didn’t even cause me any painful sensations.
Bending and unbending my left hand a couple of times, I
began to experiment further. I started to warm up my fingers
and in the end, even made a couple of rotations with different
joints. The pain was hardly felt at all, but my hand had
seriously lost a lot of its flexibility and some movements
didn’t work at all. Checking my legs gave me almost the same
results. I even dared to get up and walk around the room a
couple of times: from one side to the other. I wouldn’t be able
to move quietly – while walking, I had to move my right leg
up and down, since it almost couldn’t bend at the knee.

Leaning back against the door again, I opened my character
status.
First name: Volper
Level: 9
Experience: 10223/94557
…
…
…
Between life and death - you looked into the face of death.
Who are you: a lucky guy or a loser? After all, not only did
you look into the eyes of Death, but It also looked into yours.
Awards:
The award pin “Will to Live” is a triangular sign with the
palm of a hand on it, with a bloody heart clenched in a fist
next to it. Every genuine warrior, seeing this award pin, will
treat you with respect for your desire to survive. After all, the
main target is to survive, in order to fulfill the remaining
orders.
Injuries:
…damaged tendons of your left arm, less control of the left
arm due to torn tendons… To treat the injury, you’ll need to
seek medical help with a surgical procedure.
… reduced function of the right knee joint, up to the third
degree. The function of flexion and extension of the right
knee joint is extremely limited. It may cause periodic pain,
and it also lowers the maximum weight capacity by twenty
percent. The speed of movement is reduced. The noise level
produced when moving is increased. To treat the injury,
you’ll need to seek medical help with a surgical procedure.

Personal account: 5,820 credits
Fucking shit! Wow, so many bad news at once. I’d already
been hoping that the regeneration would correct everything,
but no, there were severe consequences to my wounds, which,
unfortunately, could only be solved in two ways: I go either to
the physicians, or to respawn. I’ll always have time to
respawn, there’s no need to hurry; for now, it’s better to take a
breather and try to find my weapons. I didn’t remove my
bandages, judging that, when I got out of here, I’d go straight
to the doctors; I’ll let them take the bandages off. Putting all
the scattered things back into my backpack, even the wrappers
of the bandages, and placing it on my back, clutching the knife
in my right hand, I slowly opened the door.
A wide, bloody stripe stretched out from the door and deep
into the corridor. It seemed to be only five meters away, but to
me it looked like three miles. At the point where the bloody
path started, the corpses of dead rats were strewn about.
Carefully looking around and discovering nothing still alive, I
hobbled along the corridor, step by step. A short distance away
from the first corpses lay my Recon. Picking it up and
immediately reloading it, I felt incredibly relieved: now I
could continue the battle. Looking around in search of the
second pistol, to my surprise, I couldn’t find it.
I inspected a dozen bodies, and my missing pistol was under
one of them. The pistol was fully drenched in blood and
incomprehensible scraps of organic origin. In this state, it
wasn’t fit for a fight, so I just stuffed it into the holster, which
my left hand only managed the second time. Slowly, I moved
into the depths of the tunnel, gradually approaching the room
where the battle had started, checking for my weapons under
the bodies of the rats along the way. I found the Corsair about
seven meters from the pistols. After a little torturous effort,

flipping the jammed cartridge, I still managed to bring it into a
relatively combat-ready state.
Quickly reloading the magazine case, I moved on, stopping
near each empty magazine I found to fill it with cartridges. Of
course, it was risky to handle magazine cases in the middle of
the passage strewn with corpses, constantly waiting for a new
attack, but not being able to shoot back is even riskier.
On the way to the hall, I had to turn off the light again, so as
not to give myself away. As quietly as possible, I got to the
entrance to the hall and gently stuck my head out, looking
around. The hall was cluttered all the way to the center with an
enormous number of rat corpses. And the hill itself, on the
opposite side, was half as large as before and now consisted
not of a moving mass of rat bodies, but of rubbish and small
bones. Trying to take everything in carefully, I couldn’t find a
single rat.
Coming out of the tunnel and getting ready for a new fight, I
made a test shot, aimed at the heap of rubbish. To my surprise,
after a brief rustling, only six rats came out of the heap. They
were in an extremely bad state: filled with holes from bullet
wounds, looking like barely moving corpses. One even
crawled on its front paws, pulling the back of its body along
the floor. Quickly finishing them off after lining my shots up a
bit, I began to move slowly to the heap, not lowering the sight
from it. Two steps – and then I stopped, two more – and I
again froze.
When there were about five meters left, the garbage heap
stirred, and a huge body, about a meter and a half at the
shoulder, wriggled out. I was already planning on losing my
life, when I noticed that this mob was hardly moving.
Blocking the passage with its body, it stood still, showing me

its mouth filled with large fangs. The system highlighted the
mob and left my head spinning.
Rat Dam, Level 15
No, it wasn’t the level that made me puzzled, but a small,
absolutely hairless creature, which jumped out from behind its
belly. With a sharp movement of its paw, it again pushed the
creature behind her, sharply lifting her belly and immediately
lowering it. But even during this brief moment, I’d managed to
notice the second sign:
Rat Pup, Level 0
It seems to me that this really is a rat’s den, even having a nest
and pups in it. All the rats, which had tried to bite me to death
and, by the way, nearly succeeded, had just been defending
their offspring, it seems. I could be mistaken, but for rats, as a
species, this is unusual. Although I’m not a biologist, so I’m
not sure. This, of course, could be emotional for some, but not
for me. Switching the fire mode to automatic, I shot the entire
magazine at head of the Rat Dam.
It tried to move toward me, but only managed to crawl all of
two meters before dying. Well, what had it expected to
happen? Since it had eaten so much and grown so sluggish and
enormous, I could’ve possibly killed it with just a knife,
without even straining my injured self. I loaded another
magazine, switched over to a single fire mode and, taking up
the gun, started a fifteen-minute safari to hunt down the small
rodents which didn’t even try to run away from me. Having
finished off the last one, I received a system notification:

Congratulations! You’ve cleared the spontaneously formed
dungeon “The Lair of the Rats.” (The additional level has
not been cleared)
Award for clearing the level: 20,000 experience, 3,000 credits
Reward for clearing this level alone: 30,000 experience,
4,500 credits
Award for clearing it on your first attempt: 50,000
experience, 10,000 credits
You can report the cleared territory to the nearest outpost to
increase its control zone. (The extra level will be cleared by
the outpost’s armed forces).
You can leave the dungeon as a hidden location, which
allows for the possibility of new monsters being born on its
territory. (The extra level could either expand into the entire
dungeon or completely disappear).
You can transfer ownership of this dungeon to a clan, but if
there are no regular sweeps, the dungeon will once again be
given the status of a free location. (The additional level can
be cleared by the forces of the clan).
Well, the dev’s imagination certainly runs wild. But I want to
know where my bonuses, sweet cookies and super powerful
suits are? I feel like I was robbed. Seriously, the number of
oddities is only growing, but this isn’t the time to linger on
that, I still have to get out of here and get to the outpost. After
spending twenty minutes inspecting a heap of rubbish,
disillusioned, I moved further along the first tier to survey the
room. A lot of units of incomprehensible purpose, it seems,
constituted a complex of services. Some had dashboards;
others had access to the pipes through hermetically sealed
paths. I looked everywhere, even climbed up a pile of devices
loosely set near the wall. Sadly, there was nothing interesting
in there.

Things were the same on the second tier, but the third one
intrigued me. At first glance, it was also empty in terms of
trophies, but I was interested in a small bend of the bridge,
which was, for some reason, connected to the wall in one
place. Coming closer, I lay down on the metal floor and
looked under the bridge. That’s strange; there’s no fastening
connecting it to the wall. I don’t know if my perception had
worked out or it’s just that my trained eye notices every detail,
but as a result of the careful examination of the wall, I found a
small gap almost in the middle of the bridge’s bend.
The gap divided the wall vertically, into approximately equal
halves. I noticed this peculiarity for several reasons. Firstly, it
was two and a half meters high. Secondly, along the edges of
the gap, the material of the wall became darker, indicating the
movement of air, oxidizing the material from which the wall
had been made. If it hadn’t been for this dark part, I probably
wouldn’t have noticed this gap at all, since it was so tightly
fitted. The way to open this door was not apparent; I had to
examine all the available spaces with my hands. Almost
nuzzling the wall, my fifteen minutes of effort were rewarded
with finding a hole, which outlined a small rectangle when I
pushed it. After working on it for another couple of minutes, I
triggered the opening mechanism. A slight push of the plate
into the wall and a shift to the left gave me access to the card
scanner, which I figured the right keycard would activate and
open the secret door.
“Attention! You’ve found a hiding place,” - the message of
the system appeared with a slight delay.
Hey, system, you’d better tell me how to open it, rather than
describing events that have already happened - I mentally
mumbled. Taking a couple of steps back, I sat down on my
backpack and stared at the card scanner, thinking about how to
crack this lock. Well, I’m not a techie! Blow up something or

break it - that’s always possible, it’s a piece of cake for me, but
sorting out electronics – that’s not my wheelhouse. Still, if I
can break it … With that thought, I took out a knife and went
to dig out all the electronics from the wall. After an hour and a
half, with judicious use of the knife’s blade and a whole bunch
of obscene words and gestures, the card scanner was hanging
out on some wires. The wires themselves seemed to lead in
different directions, attached to a circuit board
I figured the card scanner checks the ID, passes the data to the
circuit that checks its authenticity and, if it’s all right, signals
the door to open. The question remains about the essence of
the signal: if it’s digital, then all my efforts were a waste of
time, if it’s electric, then there’s a chance to open the door.
Cutting off the wires from the board, I stripped each of them
separately and began to short circuit them among themselves,
in different combinations. Finally, I got lucky – I heard the
noise of the door opening, and picking up Corsair, I prepared
for a fight, aiming at the opening. The doors moved a little
more into the wall and parted in different directions, finally
disappearing into the walls.
Congratulations! You’ve found an ancient cache, but, please,
be careful, what awaits you within is not known.
You have acquired the skill of finding caches.
You have acquired the Skill - Mechanical access using tools.
Congratulations! You’ve received an achievement medal “Overcoming all barriers”!
Conditions: destroy an obstacle that’s preventing you from
reaching your target in an unintended manner.
Reward: the opportunity to reach your target.

Is the system mocking me? Well, the skills themselves seem to
correspond to my actions, but the reward for the achievement
is mind blowing. Once again feeling amazed at the system’s
screw-ups, I put my backpack on, armed myself and went,
limping, through the open door. After walking for about thirty
meters, I got into a small cubic room, it was only about six
meters long. On the right, there were four bunk beds, and in
the corner was a plastic table and two chairs beside it. On the
left was a weapon rack, a cabinet and three closed, rectangular
boxes. In the far corner there was another small door, and
that’s where I went to explore first. Behind the door was a
shower room.
Not seeing anything interesting there, I went to examine the
rest, hoping for something good. Looking through the first
drawer, I’d expected to see anything but the full box of
expired, dry rations that I found. Looking at the half-erased
date on the package, then in the neural interface for the local
year, I was shocked. The cache was 319 years old. Throwing
the package back, I went to the second box. I got lucky this
time: there were four strange rifles with a long barrel and a
digital aim in the box. Under them were two layers of energy
batteries. I tried using different batteries with different rifles,
but I never got them to work.
It would seem that, over the three hundred years, they’d
completely lost their charge. Counting the batteries, I realized
that each rifle came with a set of eleven pieces - one main and
ten spare batteries. Going through the third box, I found some
overalls. It looked to me like they were made from something
like soft Kevlar or some kind of composite material. Also,
there were goggles there as well and, judging by the thickness
of the frame and lenses, they were stuffed full of electronics.
Remembering that I was in a game, I transferred one complete
set of everything I’d found to my inventory and started to
inspect the information of these new items.

Ancient overalls
There is no information.
Weight: 2.7 kg.
Ancient rifle
There is no information.
Weight: 3.3 kg.
Ancient glasses
There is no information.
Weight: 0.4 kg.
An ancient power source
There is no information.
Weight: 0.2 kg.
Well, that sure is a lot of information – I was being ironic, as I
felt my patience wearing thin. At least I now know the weight
of the items, thanks for that, system. Quickly calculating the
weight, I began throwing out the entire stock of food from my
backpack, leaving only one ration in there. Gathering
everything into my backpack, two sets of items and weapons,
which I barely squeezed in, I was already on my way out, but
then my eyes glanced at the cabinet, which I had yet to check.
I removed the backpack for mobility’s sake and went to the
cabinet. I didn’t even pay attention to the weapon rack – I was
immediately shown info that told me it was empty.
Approaching the cabinet, I began to check all the
compartments and lockers, but I was disappointed: I found
nothing but dust there. Picking up the backpack again, I
headed for the exit. It would be necessary to return
immediately after the doctors have treated me, so I could pick

up the remaining two sets. Leaving the hiding place, I
removed all traces of my breaking in, throwing all the extra
items inside the passage. I again short circuited the wires,
waited until the doors were closed and I saw the niche in
which the card scanner had been.

It took me an hour and a half, due to my stumbling gait, before
I finally got to the exit. I stopped at the last turn, thinking
things over, because I wanted to get into the extra level, but at
the same time, I had nothing to destroy those tentacles with.
After hesitating for a couple of minutes, I moved on to the
exit, filled with regret. Once again I tied my backpack to my
leg, and crawled through the inconvenient hole with a pistol in
my hand. Already in the middle of the road, I thought I should
turn the headlight off, so as not to reveal my presence. Having
reached the edge of the hole, I didn’t hurry to get out, letting
my eyes get used to the brighter environment, and at the same
time listening to my surroundings. A few minutes later, when
my eyes no longer hurt from the light, I was about to get out of
the hole, but I stopped when I overheard a conversation:
- Are you sure we should ambush him here?”
- Yes, don’t be afraid, my friend, everything’ll be fine! We only
have to fire five shots!
Judging by the sound of stones crumbling, they’d climbed a
hill of construction debris, with a good view of the hole that I
was sitting in. After a couple of minutes of panting, they
moved a little to the right of the hole, evidently hiding behind
the top of the pile, disguised and waiting for someone on the
road.

- “Listen, Bent, are you sure that they’ll let us into this gang of
NPCs?” - The first voice began complaining and being
pessimistic again.
- “Damn it, you heard them yourself - we kill ten replicants
and get their belongings, then they will accept us and reload
the neurointerface, so that what we’ve done doesn’t appear in
our info. The system itself won’t be deceived, but the other
players will remain clueless. And then we’ll advance through
the ranks. I think there are cool rewards waiting for us if we
do.
- Bent, look, two noobies are coming.
- Be quiet! You shoot after me, but don’t fire the whole
magazine, like you did last time.
- Yes, I remember, I remember. Short bursts, don’t leave my
finger on the trigger for more than a second and a half…
You’ve already told me this a million times.
- “Yes, now be quiet! They are already approaching,” the one
called Bent hissed, and his accomplice fell silent, waiting for
the victims.

CHAPTER VII: AN AGREEMENT

I was lying and pondering –not about what to do next, that was
quite simple. I was thinking about this new information I’d
found out. Given that you can make changes to the interface,
there’s a question of how much you ought to trust the
information that the system gives you about a player or
someone else you meet in the game. So, this game is a haven
for various spies, saboteurs and gangs as well. Unfortunately,
there isn’t enough information to go on. I can’t really consider
the possibility of using this peculiarity of the game, yet. And
then the shooting started. It would seem the criminals were
already busy dealing with their victims, so it was time for me
to leave.
As soon as I crawled out of the hole, I pulled out my backpack
as well and quickly untied it from my foot, without taking my
eyes off the two players, who were sitting with their backs to
me and firing somewhere in the direction of the road. They
were amateur players, of course. They hadn’t even checked the
area behind them. Springing an ambush without even having
any escape routes was just sloppy. So I decided I would punish
them for their carelessness. I unhooked the Corsair and aimed
it at the back of each of the losers, opening fire. Giving a
glance at the logs, I grunted contentedly. It appears that
shooting unprotected vital organs causes huge critical hits,
whether it’s with rats or players. The system awarded me some
experience and gave me credit for the murder of two criminals.
- “Hey, Mr. Dick, is there anyone alive out there?” - I shouted,
without sticking my head out, since I didn’t want to risk taking
a bullet to the noggin.
- “Go fuck yourself!” – I heard the reply.
“If you can answer me, that means you’re alive,” I continued,
not paying any attention to the obscenities, putting on my

backpack as I spoke. “Dickhead, the noobies who shot at you
were killed by me! You can take their belongings; I’m now
going to get out of here, along the wall, and move on to the
outpost. If one of you brainless motherfuckers tries to do me
any harm, I’ll arrange for you to respawn. Do we understand
each other?”
Yes, I’m being very rude, but either they’re smart and they’ll
let me go, or I’ll shoot them until they’re more lead than
person. A moment later, I got their reply:
“Well, if everything is as you said - then we’ll let you go in
peace!”
That’s strange: they agreed too quickly. Why didn’t they try to
check if I was being truthful? Yes, even a trivial question like
“Are you telling the truth?” would’ve been better. Picking up
the submachine gun and getting ready, aiming in their
direction, I began to move slowly along the wall. Coming out
of the cover of a heap of construction debris, I adjusted the
aim of my gun, pointing it at the rusty frame of some kind of
machine, which had formerly been a kind of transport. I
understood that that was the only place that could serve as
cover. Looking closely, I saw a weapon sticking out between
the metal elements. Continuing to move sideways along the
wall, I gradually left the cover behind. When I saw the two
player team, I realized that they were hunkered down and
waiting for me. I froze. Now it was clear why they’d accepted
my conditions so readily.
One of them was crouched on one knee followed me with his
automatic weapon, but the second man was lying behind him
and trying to dress the wound around his thigh with a piece of
his T-shirt. I’ve never been overly sensitive, but this time, I felt
sorry for the guy. I extended my left hand toward them, slowly
took off one strap of my backpack and, rummaging inside, I

took out one of the two remaining bandages. Putting it on the
floor, I again put my backpack on and moved away. Walking
around the players, I loudly said:
That is a bandage, I’ll leave it here. You’ll need it.
Deep in my soul, I didn’t want to do that, be merciful, but my
mind realized they weren’t my enemies. Because of that, I
decided to give them at least the opportunity to avoid
respawning. Whether it was for them that I’d done it or not, I
didn’t care, my conscience was clean. I’d given them a chance,
everything depended on them now. Moving about thirty meters
away from the players, I disappeared behind the next turn of
the road and, turning toward it, walked with my limping gait to
the outpost.
Having entered the territory of the outpost, I immediately went
to my room and unloaded all the goods in the nearest corner.
Critically examining the pile, I realized that I would have to
find a bigger room (or even a house!), and that I indeed needed
a big warehouse. Taking one set of the things I’d found, I went
to see the engineers. Having reached the research center, I first
asked them to call a representative of the engineering
department and presented my findings to him. The
representative of the engineers carefully examined the items
offered to him and summarized:
- These things, of course, are technologically advanced, but
they don’t represent much of a find to me, I can pay you …
let’s say … maybe … three thousand for them - and yet, his
eyes examined these things carefully, with great interest. He
also avoided looking me in the eye. I’m not one to be deceived
so easily.
- Okay, agreed … - He immediately began to smile, but I cut
him off. “I won’t offer you this rubbish; I’ll go to the store and

sell it to the merchants.”
He stood there with his mouth open, an echoing mixed with a
sort of mooing coming from him, depending on the position of
his jaw. In the meantime, I began to put everything back into
my backpack, but then he exclaimed suddenly:
- Wait, please, young man! Yes, these things are of very little
technical significance, but they do matter, at least a little. So,
how much do you want for them?
- Three hundred thousand! – After hearing my words, his eyes
went wide, like two cups of hot coffee.
-What? Three hundred thousand? Are you offering me a
molecular power station? The best price for this junk is ten
thousand! Now, look at it, it’s barely more than scrap, why
should I give you three hundred thousand? I see you’ve set
your sights a bit too high, haven’t you? He was already flushed at the end of his monologue.
- You’re right! - I agreed in a calm voice. - Two hundred and
fifty thousand is the best price for these things, since there is
no information about them in the database. - You see! – He gestured meaningfully, showing the
importance of the moment. -You said it yourself: “there is no
information about these things in the database.” Maybe it’s
just an instrument for checking the carbon monoxide
saturation in the room and the overalls of the worker who
conducted such an operation. And I’m kind-hearted enough to
agree to buy this junk for as much as twenty thousand.
-Are you really fucking nuts or have you lost all sense of
decency? - I started talking to him casually as well, without
even noticing it. – Look at the information, or do you need
glasses to correct your bad eyesight? It clearly says “An
Ancient RIFLE!!!!” Do you hear me? A Rifle! And that word

means it’s a weapon. Therefore, no less than two hundred and
thirty thousand will do! -

Our bargaining went on like this and lasted for another hour
and a half, eventually turning into a war for each sum of
money. This technician reminded me very much of our deputy
commander in charge of supplies and logistics, who you could
end up begging to give you a sleeping bag for hours, even if he
had a whole load of them in storage. It wasn’t because he was
tight-fisted (he’d given us everything we’d needed for the
military operations, and often more than that), it was simply
something he enjoyed, when it wasn’t anything too dire. And
as he’d once confessed to me, he was just bored, so he
entertained himself that way. As a result, each of us got what
we wanted, and we were very pleased to have managed it,
every time.
My account received 53,247 credits and he promised to give
me information on the items’ tactical and technical attributes,
as well as methods for using and operating them. He seemed
to be going to his room, already anticipating how he would
analyze their structure and go on to produce similar devices.
Leaving the building of the center and traveling about thirty
meters, I slapped myself on the forehead so hard that I heard
the echo of my empty head. What an idiot I am! I’d wanted to
be healed, and there were regeneration capsules in the center.
Turning back, I again limped to the research center.
When I was just a few meters from the building, I heard a
deafening explosion and leapt backwards. During my jump, I
took out the pistol from my holster and, landing on my back,
slid a couple of meters on the concrete. By the time I’d
managed to stop my sliding and get up, I was ready to repel
the attack, an already loaded cartridge in my gun, which was
aimed at the source of the blast.

The explosion had occurred on the tenth … err no; I quickly
moved my gaze over the floors, realizing I was mistaken. Not
on the tenth, but on the eleventh floor. And just a little to the
left of the place where I was standing, some kind of humanlike
object fell, making a small dent in the concrete surface. Next
to him, on the floor, were pieces of glass, metal and concrete.
The figure rose from the dent and turned his head up, looking
at the flames now coming out of the blasted open holes in the
eleventh floor.
The man was in some kind of dark-ashy colored armor, which
completely mimicked the outline of a man, only slightly larger
in size. The armor was rather fragile in appearance, but I could
see with my own eyes that it hadn’t suffered a bit of damage,
and that only a small amount of soot remained on it. Suddenly,
the front part of the helmet opened up to the side and, with the
rest of the helmet, turned into a thick collar. Under the helmet,
I saw the technician with whom I’d been haggling not five
minutes ago.
“Send the firemen to the experimental laboratory,” he shouted
into the microphone which was fastened behind his ear and
reached to the middle of his cheek. “Call the repair people as
well. The laboratory needs to be completely restored. Also,
Axel, add to the list of warning signs for laboratories that it’s
prohibited to open ancient weapons in laboratories with less
than A-class protection. Also, prepare a paid sick-leave of 24
hours for Mr. Kulkashev, plus a day for his replication, along
with an added day to make sure his morale is restored. Yes,
Axel, you’re right, please charge the account of our company
for his replication.”
Shaking myself off, I went up to the engineer, and, standing
beside him, also stared at the fire, which had continued to rage
on the eleventh floor.

- How is it? - I asked, the question rhetorical.
-It’s fucking bad, - he glanced at me and then looked up again.
- And how are you still okay?
- It’s the Eligionized exosuit, commonly known as the “elige”.
Only two of these were found in one of the experimental
laboratories.
- I see. Now what?
- Who knows… most likely, everything’s been destroyed. I
really hadn’t suspected that it could also have a
miniaturization block as part of its layout. I’d thought it was
just a new class of energy rifle, but it turned out to be some
kind of combined crap.
And now what are you going to do - I continued to ask the
truly super long and super smart questions.
- Well … If there are any more of these kits, I can buy them
under the same terms and conditions as before. It’s better, of
course, to buy two or three just in case. Although … After
today, I can pay a hundred thousand for each of them, if
there’s more than one.
- Nope! - … After such a big bang, a hundred isn’t close to
enough, I thought, staring at the devastation…
-So you do have more. - He looked at me again, narrowing his
eyes suspiciously.
- Well, I can get some, maybe. It depends on the price.
And then we started bargaining again. I can imagine what it
looked like: fire brigades all around us, a whole floor on fire
above us, while flakes of garbage are falling on our heads, and
we’re standing around and bargaining – a very surreal image.
40 minutes later:

-Listen, - I began wearily. - Do you, by chance, have anything
to do with the army’s commissariat service?
- How did you know? - He was quite surprised. - Yes, I was the
head the weapons and ammunition depot for the Forces of the
Front a long time ago.
-It’s just that you reminded me of our commander. I’d even had
the thought that all supply officers were specially trained to be
tight-fisted. But I checked it out, and no such training exists. -Ha-ha-ha, - he laughed, wiping away the tears caused by
laughter. – Okay, let’s sum up. You bring me two more rifles,
overalls and goggles, right? - Waiting for a nod from me, he
went on. - I pay you 119,721 credits for each set. Also, after
the research is concluded, I’ll give you all the necessary
information on how to use and operate one such kit, - I nodded
again, agreeing with him. - And the last thing, if I start
producing these items, then you’re due three percent of the net
profits. - Yeah.
-All right, it’s a deal, - he agreed and held out his hand to me.
I clasped his hand, but didn’t release it after we shook on it.
While he’d been shaking my hand, the corner of his mouth had
twisted up into a slight grin. My brain analyzed everything at a
frantic pace, and I realized that, somehow, I’d made a mistake,
but I couldn’t understand how. Then I remembered that, on the
first day, several players had complained that the system
doesn’t display quests and it’s necessary to memorize all your
tasks, and then I remembered Litara’s words about the server
recording all our actions. Without releasing the engineer’s
hand, I smiled broadly and said:
- Server, register our contract! – Hell yeah, I was right! A
message popped up in my view:

Attention! You are signing a contract.
The terms and conditions are as follows:

The agreement is being concluded between the replicant
character “Volper”, identification number of the
neurointerface KM 3585761982 (hereinafter referred to as
Volper), on the one hand, and the representative of the
engineering department of the research center of the outpost
No. 5-17-23, Gerion Carso, identification number of the
neural interface AT 7435844891 (hereinafter referred to as
Gerion Carso). Volper, for his part, will undertake to give
Gerion Carso 2 sets of the following items - Ancient Rifle,
Ancient Overalls, Ancient Goggles, similar to those that were
given to Gerion Carso for 53,247 credits. Gerion Carso, on
his part, will undertake to pay Volper 119,721 credits for
each set consisting of an “Ancient Rifle”, “Ancient
overalls”, and “Ancient Goggles”. Also, after studying these
items, Gerion Carso will undertake to provide Volper with all
the necessary information on these subjects, about their use
and maintenance. In the event of Gerion Carso producing
the abovementioned items, he will pay Volper three percent
of the net profits from the sales of these items.
Do you want to sign the contract?
Yes/No

I enjoyed watching the emotions play out on the engineer’s
face – he had on an expression that said he wasn’t very happy
about this agreement. It’s a pity if he doesn’t sign the
agreement right now, but at least then I shouldn’t worry about
him trying to deceive me.

- “Yes, I’m signing the contract,” he said, to my surprise.
- “Yes, I’m signing the contract.” - I also accepted the terms
and conditions.
Congratulations on the successful conclusion of the
contract!
Attention! You can access the “Quests” tab, which displays
the tasks, quests and obligations you have undertaken,
according to the contracts.
Attention! You now have the Trade skill.
-I didn’t even think the replicants were already aware of this
feature of the neural interface, - Gerion said, through clenched
teeth. -I’m sorry, but I have a lot of work to do now, we’ll talk
later. Turning his back to me, he went over to a group of people who
were discussing something. It was clear that he didn’t like that
I’d legitimized our contract through the system, that he’d
somehow planned to cheat or trick me into losing out on my
money. Okay, I’d figure it out later, now I needed to get some
medical treatment, and then I would deal with the problems
that have popped up. With these thoughts going through my
head, I went to the research institute again, hoping to get rid of
my injuries there. As I was entering the building, I glanced
over my shoulder and noticed the engineer watching me. I feel
it in my bum, this isn’t going to lead to anything good …
Quickly agreeing on which medical services I needed and
paying for the treatment, I went in, and, three hours later, I was
fresh as a daisy and kept pestering the girls behind the counter.

- Girls, I beg your pardon, don’t reject a young and attractive
man! – Yeah, I enjoy puzzling girls sometimes. They have these
very pretty expressions on their faces when they’re trying to
figure out what a male stranger wants from them. – Tell me,
dear beauties, what on earth can I give to a beautiful lady in
here as a present, and not fear being refused immediately due
to angering my dearest creature? Yes, I’m an asshole, and yeah, I’d practiced these phrases
before leaving the building, but the desires effect was
achieved. One girl giggled softly into her hand, and the second
one said, smiling:
- Well, if she’s from here, you’d better give her sweets. Nothing
else that can be found here, in our outpost, is close to good
enough.
- Thank you, beautiful goddess, for endowing such a closeminded and dumb person like me with your wisdom. I promise
that, if your advice proves useful, as a show of gratitude for
your invaluable help, you will receive an equally pleasant gift.
Bowing and scraping, I turned away and headed for the exit,
listening with pleasure to the laughter and rustling behind my
back. So what? It’s a piece of cake for me to please a young
angel, and it’s nice for them as well, because it’s a damn good
thing to feel young, healthy and attractive. Leaving the hall of
the building, my smile immediately disappeared from my face.
There are too many worrying aspects to this game, and my
modest intellect isn’t enough for a full analysis of the
situation. Of course, there’s the option of using one of the
reserve plans, but that’ll also impose a number of obligations
on me, and I do not want to have any unnecessary problems.
And so, here’s what I need to do. First: I should get sweets and
go to Lita, to get explanations for a number of my questions.
Second: I should deal with the issue of my equipment and go

get the second batch of ancient items. Third: I should secure
my own, safe route for returning to the outpost, since I don’t
like how suspicious Gerion looked after the conclusion of our
agreement. Fourth: I should find a trainer for different types of
skills in order to get them to the next level.

Of course, it was worthwhile to have finding a trainer as the
first item on my agenda, but I was afraid that if I stayed away
for a long time, someone else would find the hiding place. And
the fifth, final point: I should organize all the information I’ve
received, and plan my further development based on it, since
the limits imposed on the growth of my skills was why I’d had
to return much earlier.
Having decided which tasks I should fulfill, I proceeded to
move on to doing them, combining the pleasant moments in
life with the useful ones. I quickly went to my room and took
out all the equipment there, and then I went to the store with
that pile of junk. Selling everything I could, while other rags
were dropped off into the recycler, I bought casual clothes of a
good cut and a plastic box of all kinds of sweets – which
weighed about a kilogram. Then I went to Litara’s office. I
barely even managed to find Lita’s office, the map saved me. I
put on my most charming smile, opened the box of sweets and
knocked on the door, and then stepped into the room, since
they were open.
- Mademoiselle … Oh, hmm … Uh … And where is Lita? - I
stared at a 40-something man.
- Litara got a transfer to another place yesterday, - the man
told me.
- Could you tell me where she was transferred to?
- I don’t know, but they say it’s on the sixth level, he replied.

- I see, sorry for interrupting.
Leaving the room, I began to look for where I could throw
away this box of sweets, which had cost me three thousand
credits. But my inner tight-fisted nature didn’t allow me to
throw away this terribly expensive present, which had been
difficult to get, by the way. Hesitating for a moment, I decided
to give the tasty present to the girls at the research center.
Returning to my room, I got into my capsule.
The first item can be crossed out: my reliable source of
information has disappeared. The information, of course, can
be obtained from other sources, but it’s necessary to select
candidates and approaches so that the information is as
complete as possible. Unfortunately, I don’t yet know the local
customs and rules completely, and I don’t want to speak to a
stranger about the things I know - especially when it comes to
discussing the representative of the engineering department.
Intuition tells me that this Mr. Gerion Carso will cause me a
lot of grief.
I don’t even know where to go first. On the one hand, I
urgently need to unlock my skills so I can develop them
further, but, unfortunately, I don’t know how long that will
take. On the other hand, I also need to get the most out of the
dungeon before someone else finds it, because I don’t want to
screw up the agreement, which promises the chance of making
a huge profit, and I need the money to develop my character.
Before I do any training, I’ll need to explore my options and
make a plan that accounts for what I need and want most, as
well as the cost of it all.
I’ll also have to take into account that I’m making a lot more
profit with this treasure hunting, which means it’s potentially a
very lucrative career path. Then again, maybe it was just this
once? It could also become too expensive for me, in terms of

ammo and equipment repair/replacement costs. I’m not too
sure, and I hate that indecisiveness. How the hell do players
handle making decisions as a bloody group?
Although, if you think about it carefully, working in groups
allows you to minimize equipment damage, and only the
weapons are an expenditure then, which isn’t particularly
expensive. Maybe that’s how groups manage to function so
well.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll have to purchase weapons and
ammunition, as well as some light armor. Unless something
unexpected happens, I must manage to do everything within a
couple of hours, so I don’t waste too much time. Having
decided on what to do first, I turned over and fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER VIII: THE CONSEQUENCES

In the morning, after I woke up and did some exercises, I
rushed to the shop first, to purchase some new equipment.
While I was talking to the shop assistant, I noticed a man who
was staring at me in a suspicious way. Yep, lots of problems
ahead. Walking around the shop for some time, I bought some
plain, hooded overalls consisting of many layers of paraaramid surfacing. Making sure that the guy was still watching
me, I came up to him and asked him a question:
-

“Excuse me; do I happen to have a stain anywhere? I
wonder if something’s wrong because you’ve been staring
at me for the past couple of minutes, as if something were
wrong.”

- “Uh … No, I’ve just confused you with another person,” he
replied, and almost immediately left the store. Now I had a
couple of minutes.
- So, what do we need? A backpack with a capacity of eighty
liters,” – I abruptly turned toward the shopkeeper, talking
quickly. – “Please give me one “Sturm” set, the submachine
gun “Safirot”, eight spare magazine cases for it as well, two
“Trouper” pistols, plus four spare magazine cases for them; I
also need a thigh holster, and make it a left-sided one; the
Load Bearing Vest “Mac-tag”, the Load Bearing Equipment
“Consort”, with five twenty-three by twenty-one cartridges, a
thousand of them, ten fragmentation grenades for defense, two
dozen offensive ones, a dozen of the plasma, sound and flash
ones as well. All the grenades should have a ring safety-stop
and a joint pin. Also, I need five hundred meters of a fishing
line, zero two type, a night vision device with a built-in
infrared mode, two bags of bandages, a one-liter jar of water,
one daily soldier ration, the knife “Be-Long”, in a sheath with
a universal fastening and five “Crutch” knives with

scabbards. If you gather everything into a backpack within
three minutes, I’ll give you an extra five thousand credits.

The salesman, who was standing with his eyebrows raised,
listened to my monologue carefully, silently nodded and,
calling his assistant, disappeared into the back room. In the
meantime, I continued to look at the display, while watching
the entrance to the store with my peripheral vision and paying
close attention to those coming in. Fortunately, the shopkeeper
returned with my order before any other observers appeared.
Maybe I was paranoid, but I’d rather be afraid of everyone
than trust everyone and screw up. I paid thirty-seven thousand
or so.
Confirming the transfer in the pop-up box, I immediately
received a second message - about the request for a transfer,
only to another account, with the amount being five thousand.
Smiling at the man, who was standing with an expectant look
on his face, I confirmed the money transfer. I put the backpack
on and went back to my room at a leisurely pace. Coming out
of the store, I noticed the same dude from before nearby, who,
when I appeared, abruptly turned around and stared in the
opposite direction. The observer was obviously an amateur,
but now I knew for sure that they were following me.
Having reached my room and closing the door, I began to
prepare for my military campaign. After taking out the Load
Bearing Equipment, I took off the small grenade pouches from
the shoulder straps and, loosening the fasteners, put them
inside the waistcoat. The waistcoat had to be cinched tightly,
so that the belt of the Load Bearing Equipment with the
pouches on it hung under the bottom edge of the waistcoat.
This way, I achieved a combination of these two pieces of
gear, joining them into one. I used both pouches on the belt’s

left side for magazine cases. I put a quick drop bag under the
first one, and under the second one, I affixed the clasp of the
thigh holster. On my back, at my waist, I placed two medpads, which could serve both their intended purpose and as a
chair pad. On the right side, there were three large pouches
with grenades, ten in each, in bulk. I also removed the small
pouches for grenades from the shoulder straps and combined
them into two bundles - three and two grenades, and affixed
them to my right thigh.
I put sound and flash grenades in there. The remaining ten
offensive grenades were sorted out into the side pockets of the
backpack. On the waistcoat, in the abdomen area, on the right
side, I placed the pistol magazine cases in a horizontal
position, so that they were aimed at the left arm. Mirroring
them, I hung five Crutches - small trihedral knives, where one
of the surfaces is longer than the others, and sharper. At first
glance, it’s a toy with a blade that’s just ten centimeters long,
but such knives penetrate very well and go through the armor
well. The Be-Long was attached in a horizontal position, near
the waist, with a handle under my arm. I’d first wanted to hang
it on my left shoulder, but because of my height, it only got in
my way, so I had to find a new place for it.
Putting on the “Sturm” set, which consisted of an armored
jacket with a seal on the elbows, similar pants, a ballistic
helmet supplemented with a half mask covering the lower half
of my face, and boots with high lacing, which had, between
the layers of leatherette, steel inserts on the toe and heel. I also
added the unloading system to that and moved around a little.
Nothing hindered my movements and it didn’t make any
noise, but I couldn’t jump properly with so much weight on
me. When landing, the pouches banged against my hips and
my ass, creating unnecessary noise.
Taking off everything except for the shoes, I neatly packed my
things in the backpack. To replace them, I put on my overalls

and, picking up my Hornet, with which I’d fought against the
meat-eater, I pushed a fully loaded magazine into it. Dressed
like that, with the Hornet in my hand and a backpack digging
into my shoulders, I went outside. Right before leaving, just in
case, I checked the information of my character one more
time.
First name: Volper
Level: 11
Experience: 63258/875693
…
…
…
Skills:
Handling one-handed pistols - 17%
Shooting with two hands - 9%
Handling machine gun pistols - 25% (further development is
blocked until the confirmation of your status as a third class
specialist)
Knife / Dagger Mastery - 16%
Dressing wounds in the field- 12%
Quick reloading of manual automatic weapons - 11%
Quiet movement - 23%
Search for hiding places - 2%
Mechanical unlocking of locks - 5%
Regeneration - 12%
Trade - 3%
…
…
…

Owners of neural networks killed:
Criminals: 2
Personal account: 157,362 credits
Backpack “Ranor”
The main slots: 1 large, 5 small.
Additional slots: the connector for the hydrator, the external
system of MOLLE, weapon clamps, compression straps.
Volume: 80 liters
Load-carrying capacity: 110 kg
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.8 kg
Boots “Sturm”
Additional slots: None.
Foot / ankle armor:
Kinetic: 8
Penetrating: 9
Thermal: 4
Power: 2
Condition: 100%
Weight: 1.4 kg
Pants “Sturm”
Additional slots: 6 pocket type
Thigh / Knee / Shin Armor:
Kinetic: 6
Penetrating: 10

Thermal: 3
Power: 2
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.9 kg
Jacket “Sturm”
Additional slots: 4 pocket type.
Torso / forearm / elbow / shoulder blade / shoulder / partial
wrist armor:
Kinetic: 9
Penetrating: 12
Thermal: 5
Power: 3
Condition: 100%
Weight: 1.4 kg
Gloves “Sturm”
Palm Armor:
Kinetic: 4
Penetrating: 5
Thermal: 4
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.25 kg
Open helmet “Sturm”
Head Armor:
Kinetic: 10

Penetrating: 15
Thermal: 7
Power Engineering: 7
Condition: 100%
Weight: 1.65 kg

Submachine gun “Safirot”
Ammunition: 5.23х21
Range: 50 meters
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 650
Shooting modes: single, five rounds, automatic.
Condition: 100%
Weight: 2.2 kg
Magazine case for the Safirot submachine gun
Ammunition: 5.23х21
Amount of cartridges: 50
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.21 kg
Pistol “Trouper”
Ammunition: 5.23х21
Range: 50 meters.
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 50
Shooting modes: single
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.72 kg

Magazine case for the gun “Trouper”
Ammunition: 5.23х21
Number of cartridges: 14
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.1 kg
Grooved bullet cartridge 5.23х21
Kinetic damage: 10-15
Penetrating Damage: 12-18
Condition: 100%
Cartridge Weight: 7.2 g
Grenade «ON-10»
Area of Effect: 100 meters
Kinetic Damage: 3-70
Penetrating damage: 1-62
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.4 kg
Grenade «B-2»
Area of Effect: 20 meters
Kinetic Damage: 2-58
Penetration damage: 1-52
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.4 kg

Grenade “PZ-3”
Area of Effect: 30 meters
Thermal Damage: 2-280
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.3 kg
Grenade «SSH-5»
Area of Effect: 25 meters
Debuff blinding: 0.3-10 seconds
Debuff disorientation: 0.5-15 seconds
Destruction of photosensitive equipment: up to 100 meters
Destruction of sound-sensitive equipment: up to 50 meters
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.3 kg
Night vision device “Satrap”
Zone of visibility in passive mode: 20 meters
Zone of visibility in active mode with infrared flashlight: 150
meters
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.95 kg
Knife “Be-Long”
Damage: 12-27
Total length: 350 mm
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.48 kg

Knife “Crutch”
Damage: 3-45
Total length: 170 mm
Condition: 100%
Weight: 0.17 kg

I’m far from being perfect, but these are quite good results for
now. Back on the street, while I was walking to the gate, the
observer didn’t turn up again. There are two plausible
explanations for this that I can come up with: either I was
really paranoid or the observer had been replaced. Walking
confidently, I got to the pile of construction debris where the
hole was. Moving through the pile, I threw the backpack into
the passage, and crawled back to the crest of the pile and
began to watch the road between the two large stones.
Literally ten seconds later, from behind the corner of the
building, appeared the head of the man and, looking around,
he followed me.
It looks like our engineer had decided to play it the hard way.
Well, it wasn’t me who’d decided to break the rules; now he’ll
have to accept the consequences. I moved quickly, as quickly
as I could without making too much noise, I crawled to the
hole and blindly dove into it. Groping for my backpack, I
began to push it in front of me, making my way further inside.
Getting into the tunnel, I immediately rummaged through my
backpack, found my night vision device and turned it on.
That’s better. Taking one offensive grenade from the side
pocket of the backpack, I attached it to a piece of concrete,
attaching a fishing line to it so that it didn’t clamp the joint
pin. Tying another piece of line to the ring, I stretched it across
the hole and tied it on the other side, with a minimal tight end.

Then I began adjusting the grenade further. At the back of the
fuse, I opened up the whiskers and, with one hand, clasped a
joint pin against the grenade, with the second one - I pulled out
the safety ring. Without releasing the grenade, I unfolded one
of the two whiskers on the ring in the opposite direction and
inserted the rest back into the fixing groove, but only to the
very edge of the whisker. Slowly, trying not to breathe at all, I
let go of the ring first, making sure that it didn’t jump out. I
also slowly opened up my other hand, releasing the joint pin.
The hand-built tag line was ready. It would be better, of
course, to take a P-shaped joint pin from the back-fitted
conventional fuse or just a pin, but, as the saying goes: In the
absence of a princess, we’re gonna bang the female cook.

Picking up my backpack, I jogged further down the tunnel.
Running past the first rat corpses, I halted. Of course, this
would work on the fool, but I had yet to come across any
professionals. It’s strange that the corpses hadn’t disappeared,
and had instead begun to rot slightly, but that was better for
my plans right now. Choosing two of the corpses that were the
hardest to pass by without bumping into them, I put another
grenade without any fuse under each of them, in such a way
that anyone who jostled one of the bodies would detonate the
grenade.
Grenades were such a useful thing! Having entered the room, I
quickly took off my backpack and changed my outfit and gear
out for the proper military outfit. The overalls, together with
the Hornet, were thrown into the backpack, mostly to leave no
traces, but I was also hoping that they would be useful to me.
While getting into my gear, I noticed two new system
messages:
Attention! You have received the “Sapper” skill

Attention! You have received the skill “Setting Traps”
Once again, they’ve given me the skill after I’ve already done
the deed. It was starting to be a bit irritating to me, really.
Well-equipped, I jogged on, guided by the map. Having
reached the first door to the recreation area, I took off my
backpack and took out another offensive grenade. Opening the
door by only five centimeters, I put the grenade on top of the
door, unfolding it with the fuse to the wall, so that it wouldn’t
allow the fuse to straighten itself. Letting go of the grenade
and making sure that wasn’t going to roll off on its own, I
gently pressed it through the slot with the fingers of my left
hand, while my other hand slowly pulled out the joint pin.
Carefully stepping back, I picked up my backpack and moved
on. If the pursuers decide to check this room, they’d have a
nasty little surprise waiting for them after they open the door.
In high spirits, I looked at all the possible places for setting up
new “surprises,” but the area allowed for only trivial traps to
be prepared. Although … There is one option: taking out one
of the rings that folded into the pocket after removing it from
the grenades, I disconnected the safety whiskers. I did the
same with the second ring. From the two sets of whiskers, I
weaved a hook with four pins.
Having thrown a fishing line through a wire on the ceiling, I
tied one edge to the ring of a grenade, and the second one to
the hook. Laying a grenade in the wires under the ceiling, I
installed the hook in the middle of the passage, at the height of
a person’s chest. That’s all. Another surprise was now ready.
Such a hook would cling to any part of the uniform, and
another surprise would drop down from above.
Having finished setting the traps, I found myself smiling a lot.
It wasn’t something I did on purpose, used in conversations for
example, but a real and reckless smile. How many years have

passed, and yet I still can’t stop it from happening. It’s true
what psychiatrists say about people who have been in real
battles. They become psychopaths, because the tension of the
fight influences the brain just like a drug, and they find it hard
to settle into a peaceful life. They begin to crave the
adrenaline, which is abundant, coursing through the body
during a conflict, a true life or death struggle.
It’s why civilians can’t really understand a soldier’s humor. It’s
not that they are random or stupid, it’s simply the fact that, to a
fighter who’s repeatedly seen the death of his comrades and
often saw his own death come very close, jokes about battles
and death are sure to make him laugh. It’s a way to cope with
it all. I haven’t been in combat for many years now, and, as it
all comes surging back – I feel lightness in my body, a
euphoria deep inside, a smile taking hold of my face, the
adrenaline from the chase, which I think just adds to it for me.
Only now do I understand how much I’ve missed it all, and I
realize why I’d always wanted to be right next to the ordinary
fighters, and not at headquarters. It turned out that everything
else is very trivial: the feeling of death being at your heels, and
you once again managing to tear your life out of its grasp - it’s
simply beyond words. A new pop-up message in the logs tore
me away from my enjoyment of the situation:
Your trap succeeded!
You dealt 48 points of penetrating damage
You dealt 52 units of kinetic damage
You dealt 26 points of penetrating damage
You dealt 35 points of kinetic damage
So, my first surprise trap worked. Judging by the logs, it got
two persons. Not bad. Let’s see how the next will do. I’d

placed quite a few surprises, after all. Even if the rest of them
don’t detonate, the pursuers will still move at a snail’s pace,
wary of a trap at each corner. After seven minutes of waiting,
the logs showed me more info:
Your trap succeeded!
You dealt 44 points of penetrating damage
You have dealt 57 points of kinetic damage
Your trap succeeded!
I don’t get it, two traps have been sprung, so where’s the
second set of damage? Ah, got it! That’s the second one, there.
There was a double trap under the corpses of the rats, and so, it
seems, the detonation of one activated the second one as well.
But there was only one opponent in the blast radius.
Unfortunately, no more traps were activated. The enemy either
cleared them, or gave up on any attempts to follow me. Having
reached the hiding place and quickly collecting the ancient
things that had remained there, slightly overburdened, I moved
backward at a slow pace and turned off the infrared light so as
to not give myself away if the enemy also had night vision
devices.

The way back to the last set of traps installed by me took me
three times longer, due to my being too encumbered. I had to
look at every corner before turning it, fearing an ambush. The
suspended hook was in place, so the pursuers hadn’t reach it.
Carefully, circumventing along the walls in order to avoid my
own trap, I moved on. The first thing that each fighter is
taught, starting right at the training grounds, is to not touch the
installed explosive devices, even if they’ve installed those
traps themselves.

The same thing happened with the next trap, the one on the
door. Making sure that it hadn’t been touched, I just moved on,
but with the utmost care, since, after all, if the other traps have
already gone off, then someone had definitely come through
here, and I could easily be walking into an ambush. Gradually
getting to the last turn, I began to carefully take off the
backpack. Now I was finally convinced that amateurs had
been sent for me: the whole corner and the opposite wall from
the corridor, to the left, could be seen even from afar.
Taking my night vision device out, I scanned everything
meticulously, since who could be waiting for me, in the
darkness? That’s right, those who want to ambush me. Quietly
lowering my backpack to the floor, I leaned back against the
wall and stepped close to the corner with just one step. The
Safiron’s safety was already off, the cartridge had been waiting
in the chamber for a long time. Turning off the night vision
device, I pulled a flashbang grenade from my hip pouch.
Pulling out the ring, I threw the grenade around the corner.
Instantly turning in the opposite direction, I clamped my hands
over my ears and opened my mouth as widely as possible in
order to minimize the effects of the sound wave. Feeling how
my ears were now slightly blocked after the impact, I turned
on the night lamp with my left hand; meanwhile, the right had
already grabbed the handle of the submachine gun. Cries of
pain penetrated through the light cotton wool blocking my
ears. The grenade had not only burned the sensitive filters of
the nightlights, but the flash, amplified by the nightlight, had
also, quite literally, burned the retinas of all the would-be
ambushers.
Coming around the corner swiftly, I saw five fighters lying on
the floor in interesting poses, covering their faces. Quickly
aiming the muzzle of Safirot at them and, not finding any
more opponents, rushed past the sprawled bodies. I ran to the
hole in a hurry, and installed a new trap there. After a

moment’s thought, I installed another grenade next to it, only
this time, I wound a line around the joint pin in one turn. I
fixed one edge firmly on the protruding rod supporting the
pipe, and tied the second edge to the line that came from the
first trap, and completely pulled out the ring from the second
grenade.
Now it wasn’t possible to deactivate the trap from this side of
the hole. If you tug on the main line, then the ring from the
first grenade pops up, and it detonates; if you cut the main
wire, then the joint pin fixed on the second grenade also
detonates, and then it explodes. And now I could return to the
blind, crippled men, whom I’d left at the beginning of the
corridor: I needed to have a very serious talk with them.
Coming back, I was very discreet, trying not to make any
noise, or else one of these “strong” men might fire a couple of
shots in the direction of the sound, and I really didn’t relish
being filled with bullet holes. Picking up the soldiers, I
carefully disarmed them and began to tie their hands behind
their backs with their belts, completely ignoring their
screaming and swearing.
I was very intrigued after seeing the information that had been
highlighted for me by the system. For some reason, they had
two levels, divided by a fraction. In their case, the second digit
was highlighted in red. After I finished tying them up, I seated
everyone in a row under the wall and read through the
messages of the system:
Attention! You have received the skill “Grenade throw”

Now I understand! As usual, I’d done something – and then
got a new skill as a reward. But then it became much more
interesting:

Attention! You have captured five owners of neural networks
that are considered to be dangerous to society.
You can report them to any representative of the authorities
and receive a reward.
You can send them to court and receive a reward, as well as
increase your reputation with the representatives of the law.
You can get a ransom for them by transferring them to their
bandit group representative and get an increased reward, but
this could be regarded as an illegal act.
Well, there sure is a wide range of options available to me, but
I have completely different plans for these people. My
volunteer informant had gone off to parts unknown, but at
least I now had such excellent, alternative sources of
information: I’m tempted to get info out of them, whatever it
takes. Yeah, I’ll also get a couple of extremely unpleasant
skills, but in some situations, they might come in very handy.
- Hey, man, what’s next? - I heard the first sensible phrase
amidst the chorus of moans and abusive words. “Even if you
plan to kill us, you should know that we have a replicator at
our base. It’s a bad idea to tie us up, it’s a waste of your time.”
“Yeah, I don’t care how many replicators you have: five or
twenty-five,” I replied to them. “Even if you stay alive, you’ll
feel great pain. And I’ve got a number of questions for you,
which you’ll have to answer, whether you like it or not.”
After that, I got up and went to get my backpack. If we
weren’t going to be disturbed, then I had a lot of time to talk to
them. Courses on how to get information out of people that I’d
attended at camp had helped me a lot in my career. And I

didn’t care about what those advocates of human rights and
pacifists were shouting at me at that very moment.

CHAPTER IX: GETTING IMPORTANT INFORMATION

Coming back, I threw my backpack at the wall and
immediately began to search the captives. I found guns of
various caliber and knives of very poor quality - the main
contents of their pockets. Admittedly, one of the captives had a
bag of yellowish powder, but I threw that away. I’ve never
understood drug addicts. They were wearing cheap clothes,
and their weapons were also only suitable for noobies. The
only equipment they had on them that was worthy of any
interest were the night vision devices, but they could now be
thrown away as well, they were broken rubbish. In essence,
they had a lot of shit, and nothing to pillage here… I tied four
of them to the pipe near the wall, singling out only the fighter
who’d cursed me out most of all. I picked him up and dragged
him far away, going around the corner, so that his words
couldn’t be heard by the others, but the screams could, and I
began to ask my questions.
- How many of you are there?
- Go fuck yourself!
- That’s an incorrect answer! – pressing down on his foot
with my boot, I pulled out one of the Crutches and, with a
sharp movement, cut into his ankle.
- A-ah-ah-ah … I’ll turn you into ashes; I’ll catch you and
fuck you to death…
After letting him have his fill of threatening me, I took out the
second Crutch and stabbed it into his other ankle. The loud
screams, as well as abusive words, intensified. It was
necessary to thrust the third Crutch from the side, through the
shin’s soft tissues, just below the bone. He started telling me
everything I wanted to know when I slammed the fifth Crutch
into his ailing body.

- A-ah-ah-ah … Five … There are five of us left … Enough, I
beg of you!
- Where are the others?
- They left us! - * he sobs * - stop, please.
“That’s not a good enough answer,” and I started jiggling one
of the Crutches embedded in his ankle.
“No, no … stop, I’ll tell you everything … I’ll tell you all you
want to know, just stop.”
- Now you aren’t telling me anything, - having released the
first knife, I started to rotate the one that was stuck in his other
ankle.
“Uh-oh-oh-ah … there were… * Sobs * … there were ten of
us … * Sobs * … three were IED contact… * Sobs * … The
two young … * Sobs * … with their things … * Sobs * …
were sent to the base.
- Why did they follow me?
- We saw a loner … * Sobs * … wanted to rob you.
- You’re lying!
Since no one was coming to aid these guys in the near future, I
had time to be patient with extracting the info. Turning him
face down, I began to contort his arms and legs unnaturally,
cutting tendons and ligaments where needed, to make sure I
could toy with him properly I also used my jacket to bind and
strap him into painful positions. I had to plug my ears, because
his screams were almost deafening.
It’s not surprising that he was being so loud, the ligaments of
the shoulder joints are abundant in blood vessels and richly
oxygenated, so damage to them is extremely painful. Having
freed his hands from the straps to which they were connected he couldn’t move his hands now anyway - I turned him on his

back. Waiting until his screams subsided into a quiet whine, I
repeated my question:
-Why did you follow me?
-“They … They … They put a hit out on you …” he seemed to
be completely broken, and had now started to cry.
- Who ordered it?
- I don’t know.
- You always give the wrong answers! – I’d been wrong, he
hadn’t broken. Crouching down, I began to slowly turn a
Crutch that was already in his shin.
- Ah-ah-ah … No! A-ah-ah … Honestly, I don’t know! …
Don’t! … A-ah-ah … We’re just grunts…
-“Okay, easy now, we’ll move on to other, more peaceful
issues. Why do you have two level displayed?”
-So… everyone knows.
- “I didn’t hear any answers!” – After yelling at him, I
shattered the first phalange of his index finger with my heel.
“Ah-ah-ah-ah … Don’t! … No! No! Don’t! … I’ll tell you
everything! … Any questions … I’ll answer … Just don’t do
that anymore…
-“I have yet to hear a proper answer,” I said, removing my
foot from his fingers, making him spill his guts to me.
-The first … Level … The good … Done … For the society …
Second … The level of harm … Done to the society … As long
as there is … A level of harm … You are a criminal … If the
level of harm … To the society … Is higher that the good …
You are considered dangerous … To the society … It is marked
red.
His tone began to level off toward the end of the first answer.
That’s bad; he’s recovering from the pain dealt to him too

quickly. A couple of minutes more and it’ll be necessary to
break something in his body again, so that he starts to get
confused, otherwise he’ll start thinking about what he can
afford to tell me and what he can’t. And for this to work, I
needed him to immediately say the first thing that came to
mind after my question was asked.
- What are the ways to get rid of a red level?
- Correctional labor … Paying a fine … Serving a term in
prison … Depending on the severity of the crimes … You can
refresh the neurointerface … But the specialists who can … do
this, are scarce… And they all belong to large … Criminal
organizations … Under the most powerful protection.
- Then why don’t you get rid of the red level after each crime?
-After a certain number of … court cases … they start to
reduce the number of replications you get … Until a complete
removal of the replica occurs.
-Why break the rules, then?
- “You don’t understand!” - He was getting wound up. –
There’s no life out here! There’s only slavery and total control.
I pick my nose, there’s a fine, sneeze where it’s not allowed and
I could be sent to do correctional labor. You work for fifteen
hours a day and get little money. It’s better to hide from the
law, but be free. Whether we survive or die depends wholly on
us. It’s easier for you, replicants - you don’t have a past, there
aren’t any relatives or friends to chain you down with, it’s all
left behind, in the distant past, when they make your replicas.
Yes, even now, you are allowed a lot! You have the freedom to
choose and act. You don’t have a limit on the number of your
replicas. You can become invaluable and make tons of money,
and then calmly live somewhere on the twelfth level, in
comfortable conditions, rather than huddling in these slums,
where even the law enforcement forces are afraid to venture.
It’s better to die here, setting up for you raids, than up there,
leading a miserable life, hoping that you will be lucky enough
to get an extra replication, or your girlfriend will become

pregnant, the chances of which, in general, are practically
equal to zero.

The crunch of other broken fingers was drowned out by his
scream of pain. He got pissed off and started yelling at me.
The information he was giving to me was also very interesting,
of course, but you can’t give the captive an opportunity to
think things over. Constantly keeping him in a slightly dazed
state with pain, I asked a lot of questions, jumping from one
topic to another, not letting him get his thoughts together. It
came down to absolutely unnecessary questions, like, for
example, questions about how old he was and what his name
was. Sometimes he returned to the questions that he’d already
answered, but I would then reformulate the question.
After 10 minutes, he was almost hoarse from screaming. After
23 – he began to give answers to questions of no interest to
me. I had to repeat my questions patiently, time after time,
because I understood perfectly that his consciousness was
simply beginning to fail from constant pain, and he was
responding reflexively to the questions that his mind was
already forming independently, just to get rid of the pain. After
37 minutes, he died, most likely from shock caused by the
pain, because I’d tried not to let him bleed out prematurely.
Cleaning all the knives and putting them back into their cases,
I went to get the next one. Apparently, one had shat himself
heavily, the second one was almost unconscious, the third one
had hidden under the pipe to which he was tied and trying to
go unnoticed. But the one who’d mentioned the replicator was
sitting quietly and, judging by the way his head was inclined,
had listened attentively to the sounds. Okay, let’s leave this
calm man for dessert, and have fun with that unconscious man
for now. Untying his unresponsive body, I dragged him to the
place I’d designated for my interrogations, and, after a few

slaps, I managed to bring him to his senses, and now I could
proceed with the questioning. I asked practically the same
questions as before, only now there were some additions,
based on the information I’d received from the first captive.
Unfortunately, this chap barely survived for 23 minutes.
After another three hours, I was finished with the last captive.
The calm one ended up surviving the longest. He turned out to
be the commander of the group. For the first forty minutes, he
stubbornly remained silent, but when I ripped out the nails on
his fingers, which were already broken in several places, I
made him talk. But he’d earned my respect for having such
endurance; not everyone could withstand even 10 minutes of
pain, but he could, a lot more than that, too. Even when he
began to speak, the man tried for a long time not to tell me
everything or to only give me general information. After
cleaning myself up, I dragged all the corpses to the hole and
dropped them down to the fourth level. Let the beasts that
dwell there dine with pleasure.
So, the fighters that I’d just killed had been tasked with
waiting for the replication of their comrades, so they could go
after me alongside them. Replication takes twelve hours, so
another couple of hours were left for me to get to the outpost.
With this in mind, I began to pack the removed weapons and
ammunition into one compact heap, tying it all down with the
straps that I’d taken from the captives after their death. After
putting all the trophies in order, I arranged them near the hole,
and put two offensive grenades under them, without the rings.
I don’t think I’ll be back for the trophies, there’s almost no
profit to be made from this trash. But anyone that did try to get
them would get a nasty surprise.
Once again looking around and taking off the banner at the
entrance, I climbed up through the hole. I moved very slowly,
keeping still and looking around after literally every meter of
space I covered since, after all, I surely wasn’t the only one

clever enough to set traps. When there were twenty meters left
until I got to the exit, I had to turn off the night vision device:
the light was too bright for me to handle. I waited for about ten
minutes, remaining in place until my eyes were accustomed to
the dim light coming from the street, and only then did I
continue to walk forward. Fortunately, there were no more
traps, like ambushes at the exit, left, so I quickly reached the
gate of the outpost. Approaching the gate, I noticed a new
section of the fence on the left, which was being put up under
the supervision of a mobile group. It seems that the players
have already cleared the territory a little, and the commander
of the fort had decided to start expanding.

At first, I’d decided to go to the research center, but after just
thirty meters, I abruptly changed my direction and, going
slightly faster, I caught up to the scrawny observer who’d
followed me around before I’d left the outpost, catching him
by the scruff of the neck.
- Well hello, The Knee!
- What’s up, bro? What? It wasn’t me! I was deceived!
- “Shut up!” I snapped at him. “Tell Alckor that Volper is
upset by the trick his guys pulled. He can ask his goons just
how upset I am. Also tell him that if I don’t receive an apology
within 10 hours, an apology that satisfies me and makes me
feel better, I won’t just be upset, I’ll be very angry with him
and his cronies. You understood me?
- “Yeahhh!” – He nodded. “I’ll tell him everything!”
- “Now, you can go!” - and I released my grip on his neck,
giving him the opportunity to escape, which he immediately
made use of.
My plan was something I’d come up with on the spot, upon
seeing The Knee. It’s not a sure thing, of course, that it’ll

work, but maybe something would happen soon. The only
problem was that I needed to unlock my skills’ progression; I
hoped I’d have enough time for that. After setting a timer in
the interface, I hurried to the research center, but after getting
halfway there, I stopped again. On the left, in the new part of
the outpost’s territory, there was now a small, one-story
building, with a large sign that read “Beaver’s” above the
entrance. For about three minutes, I was stuck staring at the
sign, trying to understand what had appealed to me about it,
and only then did it occur to me that only a player could be
named Beaver.
Hmmm … and now the players have become entrepreneurs only a couple of days have passed, and he’s already managed
to find enough money to open a bar, and also somehow gotten
the approval to do so from the commander of the fort. Having
finally reached the research center, I asked them to call Carso.
It was nice to see the various expressions flit across his face
when he saw me: surprise, disappointment, discontent,
irritation, and anger. All this was evident on his face for a
while, but after just a few seconds, he got his act together and
came up to me.
- Hi! - He offered his hand to me. “As I understand it, you’ve
come to fulfill your part of the contract?”
- Yup! - I confirmed, laying out the equipment on the counter
in front of him. - Server, I ask that you confirm the fact I
upheld the agreement on my end, - Carso’s grimace was so
pleasing to me, heaven on earth.
Attention! You have fulfilled your part of the contract
concluded between you and Gerion Carso.
I wonder if the system has at least one message that doesn’t
begin with the word “Attention!” I think it’s overused. Saying

goodbye to Carso, I headed to the bar, hoping that I could eat
something more edible than dry soup there. When I reached
the bar and seated myself behind one of the remote tables,
with my back to the wall, I put my backpack next to me and
placed the Safirot on top of it. Ordering the first dish, I could
hardly stop myself from ordering a couple of bottles of
something alcoholic - I felt so bad. I’d never liked this part of
the job. Afterward, you feel like a freak, and there’s a constant
reminder of that fact that will regularly haunt your gaze.
Sighing heavily, I opened the system messages again:
Attention! You have received the “Torture” skill
Attention! You have received the “Vivisection/ dissection”
skill
Attention! You have received the “Interrogation” skill
Attention! You have received the “Intimidation” skill
Attention! You have received the “Inflicting injuries on
another person” skill

And all these skills had been trained up to twenty-five percent,
and now required confirmation of my status by a class 3
specialist. The most depressing things about all of this: firstly,
the system hadn’t given me a red level, which means that,
from its point of view, I’d acted without violating the laws.
And it’s a very unpleasant realization, knowing you are
playing (well, in my case, living) in a world where such
actions are considered perfectly alright, if you’re killing
criminals. The second thing was the last message from the
system:
Congratulations! You have earned the achievement
“Executioner”!

Conditions: By means of afflicting pain, make the victim give
you the information you are interested in.
Your Reward: In certain circles, you can always find a wellpaid job.
So, that’s enough to consider, here’s my meal. I can finally
relax and analyze the information. Let’s start with what I
know: Carso was the one who put a hit out on me. I don’t have
any real proof, but the wording of the orders clearly pointed to
that. The criminals were supposed to follow me and find out
where I would go and, on my way back, by any means
necessary, take everything I had on me away. That’s what he’d
promised them a reward of fifty thousand for. Although I only
have my own hunch that Carso is to be blamed, I will give him
hell regardless. I’d also learned that the local criminal gang
was led by someone nicknamed “Alckor “.
The gang wasn’t very big, only 37 people, but it was
successfully operating in our outpost. After the recent
successful attack on the convoy, which had been delivering
supplies to outposts, they’d received two replication capsules
and enough supplies for them as trophies. To the delight of the
bandits, Alckor had somehow been able to get a programmer
who reconfigured their replicas exclusively for this replicator,
in exchange for a second capsule.
Now Alckor is obsessed with increasing the number of people
in the gang to 100. They have ammunition in abundance. And
now, with the appearance of the replicator, he has the
opportunity to turn the consumable resource called “man” into
a self-replenishing one. If you take into account that he’s
already had a dozen applicants for the gang from the ranks of
players, then something must be done about him.
So, what else have we have here? The general composition of
the gaming world… Judging by the stories of the captives, the

city has sixteen tiers in total. Although the 16th remains in
question, my informants knew about it through word of
mouth: they said that the government and the richest people of
Alfarome live there. Now: the tiers are habitable only from the
sixth level and higher, and the sixth and the seventh levels are
the poor districts. In the eighth and ninth, ordinary workers
live, those who work hard to feed themselves and their
families. The tenth and eleventh are the territory of companies,
and there are various mid-level clerks living there, and those
who can afford a more or less average cost of living. The
twelfth and thirteenth are occupied by individuals who have
achieved a lot in life and are paid good wages and have good
jobs. But only the elite live at the fourteenth and fifteenth
level, the ones who can afford to wipe their ass with toilet
paper made up of a hundred thousand credits per roll.
I don’t know how things are on the upper levels, but from the
sixth to the ninth, they lead a miserable existence, that much I
can say for sure. Even if there are high-tech devices in the city,
they simply don’t have enough money to buy them. Therefore,
for the most part, they have to live in conditions similar to the
20th century, while having to endure constantly seeing hightech devices that could facilitate a better life for them, while
not having the opportunity to use them. Moreover, they are
still under total surveillance and control, with virtually all
spheres of their lives being regulated. The only salvation from
poverty, for them, is to have a child.

When a pregnancy is confirmed, the biological parents are
treated in hospitals that are almost on the highest level; they
also get substantial monthly payments provided by the
government, and in general, they get a huge number of
benefits and rewards. The problem is that for the time being for reasons I don’t understand - they have huge problems with
the continuation of the family. As I understand it, on average,
out of three hundred couples, only a single family can have a

child. Local people explain this in different ways. Of course, I
understand that the game developers have simply restricted the
number of NPCs in the game, but from the logical point of
view, I am more inclined to think that the problem arose
because of the use of replications services, which somehow
deteriorate reproductive abilities.
I arrived at this conclusion using the information that local
people undergo a respawn procedure in the replicator that lasts
twelve hours, while losing some of their skills in random
order, from five to ten percent, and they can lose up to three
skills at a time. Moreover, if you believe the words of the
goons I’d captured, they feel that they have a chunk of
memory erased during respawn. So, I can assume that the
replication is not performed fully, and somewhere in the
process of replicating, the gene responsible for reproduction
simply disappears.
What other useful information did I learn from them? Yeah,
about skills and statistics… Regarding stats, as it turns out,
everything is quite simple: they show the state of your body at
that moment, and they can still be increased. And there are
many ways to increase them: various stimulants that
temporarily increase the attributes, technological implants as
well, both internal and external. Even biological implants can
be installed in your body. Well, the hardest way is to push the
body hard for a period. For example, you can raise your
strength by one point in a couple of weeks of regularly visiting
the gym, and working out a lot.
But with the skills, everything is much more complicated.
They develop exclusively through practical use. I get that,
however, the main problem with that is that almost every
action requires its special skill. By practicing with a
submachine gun, I will not be more successful at using a gun
or a rifle. From a real life point of view, everything about that

is logical, because the technique for shooting is different, as is
the recoil, the grip, and other features. But, devs, why have
you incorporated all of this into the game world? I can’t grasp
it.
The second problem happens when you get the value of the
skill to one hundred percent. You’d think that’s it, okay, you
rock, and you get to aim the gun from a distance of fifty
meters at a target three centimeters in diameter. Then you
come across another person with the same gun, and they
manage to shoot a tiny fly. And then you realize that you’ve
just achieved the maximum technical attributes for the
weapons, which have been specified by the factory that
manufactured them. You start to practice shooting, for
example, with pistols with a free breech mechanism. You get
used to the gun when shooting it, you learn how the bullets
act, according to the barrel cuts, and you start shooting at
targets that are twice as far as stated by the manufacturer, but
you still cannot shoot the fly, which just flies on by, anyway,
despite your best efforts.
Then the third stage comes, and you begin to develop personal
weapons. You select one single model of a pistol, according to
the specialization that you’ve trained in, and you use that very
item to sharpen your skills. Then, after several years of
training with the same pistol, you really reach the target set
before you and start to fire at different flies, hitting their
wings. But again, there’s the problem. If you take another
pistol into your hands, you cannot get the same result.
Moreover, the longer you use another weapon, the lower your
personal weapon skill becomes. Again, I can see the same
situation happening in the real world - you can either be a pro
in one skill or a stable medium in many other skills. The only
thing that I like is the opportunity to develop a skill on the
training grounds, only the skills will grow a little more slowly.
It would be very interesting to learn how real skills affect the

speed of development in the game, but, unfortunately, I
couldn’t get that information from the NPCs.

Another thing was the information I got about mobs and
dungeons. Here, the plans of the administration are not quite
so easily understood. It turns out that the mobs have no
respawn here, only the natural reproduction of the population,
according to the birth rate of each species. Mobs must be born
naturally, then grow up a little bit, and after that, you have the
opportunity to meet these creatures on the streets. And the
level of all those creatures starts at zero. And the longer it
lives, the higher its level will be, based on how many players
or other creatures it kills, and how big and strong it grows
during this time. Dungeons are not formed at all. The territory
receives the dungeon status when, in a certain zone, the
number of monsters exceeds a certain critical mark, but when
one or several extremely dangerous high-level mobs settle
down there, then, in general, we get a territory with the status
of a “Lair”.
Oh, yes, I completely forgot about the mutants. Mutants aren’t
mobs, but humans with different mutations. They are
persecuted by the law and are mercilessly killed, or are caught
and taken in for further experiments. So mutants on the fifth
level or higher are almost impossible to come across. By the
way, all the captives were convinced that the mutants had their
own government and quite a developed infrastructure. But
these are only assumptions: they aren’t sure where they live at
all. They had different opinions on this matter. It seems the
devs had used a standard solution, simply creating an opposing
side, for which you can also play, as well as one for the
ordinary people. The Player(s) versus player(s) or PvP and
factional in-fighting modes were created to cater to the desires
of people who like to engage in that sort of thing.

Hmmm … I’ve gotten a whole bunch of information, but it’s
unlikely that I’ll be able to immediately sort everything out.
The main thing I’d gotten out of what my captives had told me
was that I haven’t developed my character properly nor fully.
It’s necessary to, at the first opportunity, leave this outpost and
move to where there are training centers, and where you can
find good instructors. Even then, I’ll most likely need to join a
good clan or a group of players, because it’s almost impossible
to survive here alone. Well, you can survive, but achieving
something worthwhile is highly unlikely. Again, I must first
finish the maze I’d cleared. It may be possible to get a penny
out of it or, if I’m lucky, get a good sum of money, and I also
have to deal with Alckor. Then I can get out of here. Ok, Carso
will send all the information to my neural interface, and I’ll
think of how to get my revenge for his double cross later.
Having eaten the rest of my meal, I was already planning to
leave, but two other players approached my table, standing at
different corners of it. This looks like another pain in my ass.
I’d had the suspicion that my character attracts various
problems. Hardly have I dealt with one thing, when another
one appears on the horizon. Here, it’s directly in front of me –
I’m pressed for time, and yet two more troublesome people
have appeared to bother me.
But no, there are three of them, there’s another one at the table
where the guys who have just come up to me had been sitting.
Trying to show that I’m calm, I carefully put my left hand on
the holster with the pistol, and leaned on the table with my
right elbow. I was leaning a little forward, so that the palm of
my right hand wasn’t far from the thigh holster - the one
where the second pistol was. Cocking an eyebrow quizzically,
I addressed them:
-

Do you have a problem with me?

CHAPTER X: NO TIME TO REST

The player standing on my right raised his hands in a gesture
conveying peaceful intentions, showing me his open palms.
- Hey man! We just came by to thank you for the first aid kit;
it actually helped us a lot.
For a moment, I just blinked, looking from one to the other,
and then it occurred to me. These were the guys who had been
ambushed by the two PCs. I remembered them and felt
relieved. It turns out that my paranoia makes me too
suspicious sometimes, causing me to see a problem in every
situation.
- Yes, I remember now. It’s OK. I had a spare kit, and I was
already moving on to the outpost, so I decided to share with
you.
- Thanks a lot! Others would’ve just left or killed us. It’s
difficult to come across sane people nowadays, everyone
thinks only about themselves or their party. Can we treat you
to anything in gratitude for what you did? – he proposed,
gesturing amiably at the bar.
-“No, thank you, I’m leaving, I don’t have much time right
now,” I said, and, getting up, began to put on my backpack.
- Ah … The time limit. Next time you’re on, drop me a line, my
nickname is Lafet. You’ve got a reward waiting to you, - he
said while I was leaving the bar.
- Time will tell, - I replied, going to the exit.
At first I thought that, after I dealt with Alckor, I could accept
their offer and spend some time with them. While looking at
them, I had thought it could be possible for me to team up with

them. But after mentioning the limit, that is, the limitation on
the time one spent in the game, I realized that this wouldn’t
work. Unfortunately, my time on the network is always going
to be twenty-four hours, a full day, and they’re limited in terms
of time, that is, they can stay in the game for no more than
twelve hours.
So my plans to join a strong clan or bring together a regular
group couldn’t succeed. There is, of course, another option,
but I hate to turn to extremes, once you get stuck with them,
there is almost no way back. Right now, everything is going
well for me, and it’s not necessary to resort to extreme
measures. Looking at the timer and making sure that I still had
some time left, I moved on to the administrative building. At
the entrance, I was met by a clerk who had never carried
anything heavier than a tablet PC in his life.
- Good afternoon! How can I help you? - The clerk asked,
smiling. I was immediately disgusted by such classic office
smile a la “What the fuck? Why are you here? But since you
are, I’ll smile at you, according to my instructions. “
- I would like to report the clearance of a dungeon and
transfer the cleared territory to the outpost’s administration.

The clerk immediately rushed off somewhere, but then
suddenly stopped. First, he hurried toward another room, then
stopped abruptly, turning to me, as if he wanted to say
something, but had again changed his mind. I hadn’t even
thought that my words could ever make him that excited. But,
apparently, he finally realized what he had to do and defocused
his eyes, as he communicated with someone through a neural
interface. After a few moments of concentrating, he again
addressed me:

- Please, wait a few moments, the commander of our outpost
will come to you and deal with your issue soon.
After saying that, he tried to keep still and pretended to be a
statue. But it didn’t work out too well for him. His nervous
glances that kept flitting all over the place and the fact that he
didn’t know where to put his hands, then thrust them into his
pockets, folding them at the waist level, gave away that he was
very nervous and didn’t know how to act in this situation.
While I was waiting for the commander, I had some time to
look around, but, to my regret, there wasn’t really anything
that caught my eye.
There was a plain, grayish floor, slightly lighter than the wall,
with only a small, plastic table that was a wooden color
bringing some disharmony into this realm of dull grayness that
the hall was. I immediately recalled the reception halls of any
modern administration, with their gilded chandeliers hung on
all the walls, various holograms stylized to look like ancient
paintings, and a bunch of other things that, in the
understanding of officials, make the rooms presentable. A few
minutes later, I was distracted by the approaching footsteps,
which were coming, accompanied by a loud rumble, from the
aisle at the far end of the reception hall.
The silhouette, at first, made me wary and I grabbed the
handle of the Safirot, but, not seeing any weapons on the
person, I relaxed a little. Yes, it was a former soldier, and now
the commander of the outpost. The infantry armor with the
closed helmet, his gestures, and even how he moved gave
away the fact that he was an experienced fighter who’d
survived many battles. Even when entering the hall where, I’m
sure, he would come through several times a day, he
immediately, with only a slight movement of his head, looked
around the room completely, making sure that there was no
danger to be found.

(Illustration: Commander of outpost No. 5-17-23)

-

“Was it you who cleared the dungeon?” He approached
me, without even taking off his helmet.

-

“Are you the commander here?” I asked in turn.

The reddish eyepieces of the helmet stared at me. What was
happening in the head of the commander was
incomprehensible, and it was difficult to tell what was on his
mind through facial expressions, because you couldn’t see
anything through his infantry helmet. Six agonizing seconds
passed, during which it seemed to me that I would end up
buried and my body would be food for the worms - the
commander’s aura was so strong. He looked like just a fighter
in a suit of armor, but next to him, you felt as if you were a
young kid on the parade grounds, standing in front of a veteran
of several major battles. It’s interesting how the game
developers had been able to convey that kind of atmosphere
around this character. I have no idea how they managed to do
it, but it’s a fact.
But I’m a man with balls, let the fresh meat succumb to this
psychological pressure; let’s see whose spirit of battle is
stronger. Covering my eyes a little, for just a second, I just
remembered all that was entrenched deep in my soul: the
commanders, under whose leadership I’d fought, the comrades
who’d covered my back, sacrificing their lives for their
brethren to survive, getting drenched in the blood and viscera
of bodies, after a large caliber round goes into a friend with
whom you’d shared the last piece of bread for a long time, the
fury you feel when you agree on a safe route for women and
children, and those monsters begin to pound the road where
civil transport and people are moving with a large caliber
artillery; the mourning, when out of a hundred fighters that
you personally trained for several years, only five are alive on
the parade grounds in front of you, and at the question of
“How?” that you breathe out in a hoarse voice, they look
away, and only one of them dares to say: “The school was
mined, we had to protect the children with our bodies.”
Remembering all that pride, pain, rage, and the bitterness of
loss, I opened my eyes and looked at the commander, thinking

the words: “I understand and respect you, but I’ve also been in
battle, just like you.” After several seconds of exerting
pressure on each other with our heavy glares, the commander
faltered and stepped back, and I had a new notification in the
system messages. After that, he took off his helmet and, with a
slight nod of his head, showed me that he understood
everything. There was also a lot of pain and loss in his eyes,
there was no need to say that the life experiences of such old
wolves as us is reflected in our eyes, no matter how old we are
or what we look like.
- “Follow me!” - He said and nodded his head in the
direction of where I was supposed to go with him.
After passing through several corridors, we entered a small
office, which only had a safe, a massive table and a similarly
massive chair, and along the back wall, there was a shelf laden
with arms and ammunition. Approaching the safe and opening
it, he took out a metal jar and two glasses made of largecaliber shells. Putting them on the table, he poured a shot of a
clear liquid into each one and, giving me one glass, he took the
second one. We drank the shots in silence, dulling the
memories with the bitterness of alcohol. After that, there was a
silence for several minutes in the office, in which both of us
were thinking about the events of our previous life. The
commander shook it off and collected himself, going right for
it.
- So, let’s get down to business. I am the commander of this
outpost, in the past, I was the special forces commander of
the Forces of the Front, Major Carefire.” - He introduced
himself. – “I was told that you cleared a dungeon and now
you want to transfer that territory to the control of our
outpost, right?”

- “Volper,” - I introduced myself in response. “Who I was in
the past is no longer important, now, but at present, I’m just
a mercenary trying to live in this dying world,” the Major
nodded in understanding, acknowledging my right to choose
to not divulge my past. - Yes, I cleared the main part of the
dungeon, to which the server gave the designation of “The
Lair of the Rats”. But there was some incomprehensible
bullshit in one of the corridors. Unfortunately, with my
equipment, I couldn’t get through there, so you’ll have to do
it yourself. The available data for that part will be sent to
you. The question is: what will I get for the data on the
dungeon?

The commander sighed heavily, poured some more booze into
his glass, lifted it, looked into it, shook it gently and put it
back on the table.
- I cannot give you a lot, my budget is limited, - he said
regretfully. “This is probably the smallest of all the outposts
on the fifth level,” he said, taking the glass again and this
time drinking the contents.
- So, you rubbed the big cheeses the wrong way? - I asked
thoughtfully, which made him smile wryly.
- Even worse: corporations … But that’s all in the past, so
you’d better tell me straight up, what do you want for the
data?
I started thinking his words over. On the one hand, I could get
a good profit using this data, if I passed it on to, for example,
some developing clan or another outpost nearby. On the other
hand, after a couple of minutes of talking to him, I began to
sympathize with this major, for whom such a piece of cleared
territory was almost like a bonanza. I really didn’t understand
the reason for his interest, but these are trifles. Having
weighed all the pros and cons, I voiced my decision:

- I would like to get a week’s access to the service polygon,
and instructors to raise my level, for that same period, plus
all the necessary equipment and ammunition, at the expense
of the outpost. Also, I need an alarm button and a rapid
reaction squad for the next twelve hours, with several units
of cargo equipment, on the provision that seventy percent of
what’s delivered to them is mine.
According to the information I’d received from the captives,
each outpost had an internal training ground for training its
fighters, but only those who were in the service of the
commander were permitted to access these grounds, and now I
had the opportunity to get access to them and pump up my
skills there, without any risks to my health or additional cost.
Plus, if he gave me a platoon, then I stood to make good
money as well. Major Carefire pondered his decision for about
ten minutes, leaning back in his chair, and then told me what
he’d decided:
- I won’t give you my fighters! I will not send my guys to the
slaughter; especially since it’s unclear where you want them
and why, - for emphasis, he also hit the table with his fist.
- I got it! My conditions are stupid, - I replied apologetically,
especially since I hadn’t correctly stated the conditions. –
“The soldiers are needed to deal with some bandits and then
carry the spoils.”
I had a suspicion that the commander would now have a heart
attack. He leaned forward abruptly, his face red, his breathing
a lot deeper, his eyes bulging out, and he wheezed out in a
hoarse voice:
-“Is it Alckor?” To which I nodded. “In that case, I’ll
organize a full-fledged raid and escort!” He said in a loud
voice.

- THAT IS A NEGATIVE! - I shouted at him. – “I need only
a rapid response squad that will come in at the alarm
button’s signal. And that no soldier knows where and why”
seeing that he was trying to object to something, I added in
my harshest voice.
-Hey, Major, you’ve got a piece of shit here, an informant,
who reports them quicker than you give the orders. Do you
want to trap the scum or find an empty base?
-I know that there’s a leak, - I heard him say, as if he were
suddenly relieved. “The only thing is, I don’t know who it
is.”
-If everything goes well, you’ll be the first to find out. So, do
you agree? - Yes, to hell with you! If everything turns out well, I’ll have
to pay you! Server, please confirm our contract! There he is - the direct and straightforward war dog; the others
would have tried to conclude only a verbal agreement, like, for
example, Carso had wanted to do. This warrior had turned to
the Server himself to conclude the contract, to avoid any issues
for either side.
Attention! You are signing a contract.

Terms and conditions:
The agreement is concluded between the replicant “Volper”,
identification number of the neurointerface KM 3585761982
(hereinafter referred to as Volper) on one hand and the
commander of the outpost No. 5-17-23, Major Alexander
Carefire, identification number of the SI Neural Interface
5625710132 (hereinafter referred to as Major Carefire) on
the other. Volper, on his part, undertakes to transfer full
possession of the cleared dungeon “The Lair of the Rats” at

the coordinates of X51724925 Y53562158 to the outpost No.
5-17-23, with all the available information on the dungeon
and subsequently abandons any further rights to the
dungeon. Major Carefire, on his part, undertakes to pay
Volper a hundred thousand credits; provide a training
ground for a period of seven days; provide all the necessary
instructors in that same period; provides a rapid response
team, reinforced with two heavy cargo vehicles, to deal with
the bandit group and the transport of the discovered loot to
the territory of the outpost No. 5-17-23, recognizing Volper’s
right to seventy percent of the profits gained.
Do you want to conclude the contract?
Yes/ No
“Yes!” I confirmed the contract. I’d like to see who wouldn’t
confirm that agreement, on such good terms.
“Yes, I do!” The commander responded. Then he added: “The
group will be ready in about 40 minutes. Access to the
polygon will be open in a day, you should be ready by that
time. There will be someone there that can train you and
confirm your level of proficiency.”
- Thank you! - I was grateful to him, truly and honestly. I
was, as we spoke, creating a package of data on the dungeon
in the neural interface. “Here, take it, that’s all I could
gather on the dungeon. Uh … The question is, how do you
transfer the rights to the dungeons?”
- In the menu of the neurointerface, there is a small part
called “Property”, click there and find the button labeled
“transfer the rights”, you’ll figure it out what to do next
from there, I’m sure Having browsed through the interface menu, I found the
section I needed. My room was registered there, along with a

countdown timer that had a note that said “renting” on it, and
the dungeon, with a note that said “Ownership rights: 100%”.
Expanding the information on the dungeon, I found a huge
number of parameters, such as “Population”, “Defense
Systems”, “Installed equipment” and a bunch of other things.
After about twenty seconds, I found the “Management”
section, where the needed “Transfer Rights” button was.
Clicking on it, I saw a new list of various items and settings,
and a separate window was dedicated to entering the number
of the interface for the person to whom I wanted to transfer the
rights. Copying the number of Carefire from the contract, I
pasted it into the window, filling in all the checkmarks and,
moving all of sliders as far as they could go, I mentally clicked
on the “Accept” button, which was located at the very bottom.
A message immediately popped up:
Attention! You’re transferring the full rights to the user of
the neurointerface SI 5625710132, Alexander Carefire. If
you give full rights to this user, you will lose all rights to this
property. Do you wish to confirm your choice?
Yes/ No
Of course, yes! Why would I still be unsure? After the
confirmation, two more messages appeared in front of my
eyes. I wondered why I’d had to set it up so the system
messages are displayed in a special window, when some of the
messages would still pop up right in front of me and block of
my view.
Attention! All rights to the dungeon “The Lair of the Rats”
were transferred to the user of the neurointerface SI
5625710132, Alexander Carefire.

Attention! You have fulfilled your part of the agreement
concluded between you and Alexander Carefire.

I could now confirm my suspicions - it seems the devs have
created all the system messages according to one template, and
each line starts with “Attention!” I’m already beginning to
hate that. That’s right, I would’ve gladly found their writers or
whoever is responsible for the texts of the system, and then
broken their fingers. Seriously, couldn’t it have been possible
to change the messages even slightly? Saying goodbye to the
commander, who was in high spirits again, after getting the
rights to the dungeon, I went to the store because I needed a
little more to shop and move out of the outpost, in order to
meet the deadline given to me.
After wandering around the store for a while, I picked up a
harpoon system, a couple of hundred meters of a thin, tenmillimeter cable and a few stoppers. A little apprehensive
about what was to come, I bought a dozen smoke grenades and
a monocular with a variable zoom of 8 up to 24. When I was
already leaving store, I remembered why I’d actually come
here and, going back, bought a sound suppressor for my
Safirot. This toy is expensive, and it only lasts for 500
cartridges, but now I couldn’t do without it.
Going beyond the territory of the outpost and dawdling a little
over the unpaved streets, I changed direction and began to
move with the utmost care toward my target. I avoided all the
monsters carefully, trying not to be noticed by them. After two
hours, I was just a block away from my target. Choosing a
medium-sized building, which had a good overview of the
area from the upper floors, I began to slowly go up. If I’d
correctly understood the explanation of my captives, this was
exactly the building I needed. Here, the sound suppressor on
the Safirot’s barrel came in handy.

Getting to the fifth floor, I came across a family of meat eaters.
My rapid shots quickly killed the two adult meat eaters and a
brood of five babies. Standing still in one place, not moving, I
listened carefully. Luckily, the screams of the dying creatures
hadn’t alarmed anyone. I carefully went on climbing,
observing all the rules for storming buildings, constantly
holding the next stairwell in the crosshair of my gun. Reaching
the 20th floor, I heard a metallic sound in one of the rooms
that faced the stairwell.
Slowly, step by step, I approached the doorway and gently
peered into the room. A fighter in a jacket and a camouflage
canvas suit for urban environments was sitting with his back to
me, bending over a pot that was sitting on a small gas stove,
and was apparently stirring it with a spoon, periodically
dinging the spoon against the pot, which had been causing the
metallic sound that I’d heard. I could see he had a double
level, which meant he was a criminal. I wanted to just shoot
him in the head a couple of times, especially considering that
he didn’t have his helmet on right now, it was under his ass,
instead of a chair. But there were two backpacks near him,
which meant he wasn’t alone.

- “Dear Mr. Zarych, when are we going to finally have our
lunch?” – The voice came from the depths of the room,
confirming my fears.
- In a sec, Red-haired, a couple minutes more and it’ll be
ready! - “Hey, Mr. Zarych, do you happen to have any of your
miracle cure left? I’m lying here, watching the streets
leading to our building, and I have a terrible hangover! I’m
very sad, man.”
- Red-haired, you’re quite bold indeed! Stop it! – The cook
shouted at him. Then he kept silent for a while, trying out the
brew and continued. - You know, if Alckor notices that

you’re tipsy while on watch, you can immediately start
digging a cozy grave for yourself. “Oh, look, our fighters are going somewhere!” Red-haired
changed the topic of conversation.
- So what?! You don’t need to be so nosy. If they’re setting
off somewhere, they were probably sent there! - “Well, fuck it, I’m nosy,” - the voice of the second bandit
retorted, after which he continued, sounding more muffled. “So, where did I put it? Ah, here it is, I’ve found it. Crow,
this is Red-haired, where are our troops heading?
- “By … To … Oh …” - it seems they were talking on the
radio, and because of the noise, I couldn’t make anything
out.
- Tell them to bring some more booze on their way back,
because we’ve only got pop wine left.
I again didn’t catch what they were saying … and it didn’t
matter at all. If I’d calculated correctly, I didn’t have much
time left. Soon, the second captive would be restored and then
Alckor would learn that I made his gang give me the address
of their military base. Moving slowly, I got to Zarych and
clamped my left palm around his mouth, while simultaneously
pushing one of the Crutches at an upward angle, into the
occipital lobe, right at the point where the spinal column
comes out of the skull. Of course, it would’ve been possible to
cut his throat, but I was afraid that his wheezing and gurgling
as he died might attract the second bandit.
The bullet went directly into the brain and, as a result, he was
instantly dead. Slowly setting the corpse down on the floor
and, returning the Crutch to its place, I moved deep into the
room while crouching. Either I hadn’t been moving quietly, or
the second bandit was perceptive. The moment I entered the
last room where he’d been sitting near the hole in the wall, he
turned to me and tried to say something. But I immediately

shot half the magazine into the upper half of his body. I’d
wanted to aim at his head, but, in a hurry, I’d started to shoot
too early, and the first bullets entered his stomach, while the
last ones ended up in his head. In the end, there was a bloody
line of unnatural holes along his body.
Taking note of my location on the map, I took off the
observer’s camouflage and put it on. Going up another five
floors, I found an opening that overlooked Alckor’s base. I
saw through the monocular that there wasn’t anyone near the
cable car, which the observers would use to get to their post.
The captives had told me that, in order to use the cable car,
they usually contacted the base and then the attendants came
to the winch, which would put the cables into motion. It was
impossible to get to the observation post in any other way, at
least without going through the heavily guarded ground access
corridor.
I climbed higher, figuring no one would start the cable car for
me, even if I asked nicely. I used the harpoon to create a line
between my higher position and where I needed to go. I got
lucky, the harpoon managed to stick to the other side on the
first try. After securing myself and checking to see if
everything was stable enough, I slid along the cable. I landed
on the 20th floor of the building. Quickly looking around and
not finding a living soul nearby, I went into the building. After
a couple of steps, I received a new pop-up message:
Attention! You have entered the “The Bandit Base” den. The
lair is meant for a group of players, from the 17th to the 24th
level, with a group composition at least as large as a squad.
Attention! You do not meet any of the criteria; we
recommend that you urgently leave the den.

CHAPTER XI: THE VILLAIN’S DEN

No way! I’m not going back – there’s not even a way back!
You won’t see me do that! Needless to say, I felt insulted by
the mere insinuation. I took off the camouflage outfit, since I’d
just needed it in case anyone was around when I landed, to
pretend to be an observer who’d suddenly returned to the base.
Quickly checking my equipment, I moved to a small room,
where, in theory, the two people supervising the cable car
should’ve been resting. Now, I was relatively safe, for several
reasons: firstly, the fact that the gangsters are denied the
possibility of communicating through the interface because of
their status as potential threats to society; secondly, the
element of surprise, which I want to make the most of and
thirdly, the fact that some of the fighters have been sent away
to punish me for my impudence.
Although, it’s necessary to give the villains credit where its
due since Alckor had quickly organized a punitive squad and
sent them to arrange an ambush, with a lot of time remaining.
And I’d thought I would have to sit in this building for several
hours, watching and biding my time. Going over to the door of
one of the rooms, I carefully pulled the handle. To my
disappointment, it wouldn’t open. It seems that the attendants
had wanted to just take a nap and had closed it from the inside.
Or, they could just be boozing. Okay, in that case, I do have a
lot of grenades.
Having installed the tag lines with grenades on the door, with
the trigger on the opening, I moved on to examine the floor. I
checked every room possible. To my surprise, all the rooms I
could get into shone with an almost sterile cleanliness, except
that the dust ruined this idyllic impression. It seems that
Alckor rules the whole gang with an iron fist, since there isn’t
any garbage around, like a container from alcoholic drinks or
other trash typical for gangs.

Moreover, there was nothing in the rooms at all, except for
bare walls and machine guns in several rooms, which I also
mined with great pleasure, hoping that they wouldn’t get them
anymore. Well, I thought, what great weapons these are. I even
admired the attributes of one of them for a couple of minutes.
Large-caliber machine gun “Thunderbird”
Ammunition: 12.3 by 113
Range: 3,700 meters
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 800-1200
Shooting modes: automatic
Condition: 100%
Weight: 72 kg (with a column)
A tape with cartridges was attached to the machine gun, which
led into a massive box standing by its side. There were about a
thousand rounds of ammunition in the neatly laid tape. I would
have second thoughts if I’d decided retake an outpost with
such a defense system, at least without the proper cover of
heavily armored vehicles. Mining all four machine guns,
located on different sides of the floor with the last set of
grenades from my backpack, I sighed thoughtfully. I should
have taken more grenades, since there was only a reserve left,
in the pouches. After completing the exploration of the floor, I
climbed onto the stairwell landing. The ladder was upside
down, with fragments of concrete completely blocking off the
way to climb up. So, I’ll be gradually going down, checking
each and every floor of the building.

According to my sources, the main base is on the seventh
floor. There are warehouses from the eighth to the tenth floors;
I won’t find any enemies there. But the eleventh is assigned to

the barracks, and there I could find a lot of fun. I have no
information about what is between the twelfth and the
sixteenth floors - the ordinary members of the gang have never
been there, only a couple of his closest allies are allowed
access to Alckor’s floors. Above and below the indicated
floors, everything has turned into defensive positions. The
most interesting thing is that the defense is built according to
the standards of local military art: the upper floors are
equipped with a large caliber weapon, and the lower ones are
turned into elaborate labyrinths with a multitude of traps and
pivot points to confront the infantry formations of the enemy,
which, perhaps, could storm the fortification one day.
I didn’t find the enemy on the 19th floor either, but I saw two
paired turrets, with 32 caliber bullets. I had to mine them too
and mark this place on my map, with two more notes about the
traps. On the 18th floor, to my surprise, there was nothing,
virtually not a single object. But on the 17th floor, I came
across eight laser cannons, which could calmly burn through
the armor of a “mammoth” class heavy tank.
Laser gun Darion
Ammunition: Power source E28
Range: 2,300 meters
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 6
Shooting modes: single
Power Damage: 1,560-1,780
Thermal Damage: 1,620-1,850
Condition: 83%
Weight: 134 kg (with a column)
Quietly whistling in surprise, I began to mine them as well.
Putting a grenade on each of them, I found that I had run out

of defensive grenades. It was necessary to use offensive ones
now, with a smaller area of fragmentation. Somehow, my
progress had been quite easy. It seems they hadn’t expected an
attack from this side at all. I didn’t have time to think about
this as I was going down to the 16th floor, as the alarm started
roaring throughout the building. After a quick glance around, I
didn’t find the reason for the alarm. Having run to the wall
opposite the ladder, I fell on my stomach and took aim at the
staircase. In the event that one of the doors opened, I’d have
time to open fire.
After a few moments, the logs alerted me that the trap I’d set
had caused damage to someone. Three more times – and on
the steps, below me, someone appeared, wearing a full-face
helmet. Shooting three rounds at his head, I made him
disappear. A quick glance at the logs made me immediately
throw an offensive grenade from my pouch and send it in the
enemy’s direction. While there was a second of respite, logs
appeared in the corner of my eye, which I was puzzled by.
Your trap activated!
You dealt 21 points of penetrating damage
You dealt 13 points of penetrating damage
You dealt 13 points of penetrating damage to the “Bandit”
creature.
You dealt 15 points of penetrating damage to the “Bandit”
creature.
You dealt 12 units of penetrating damage to the “Bandit”
creature.
Damn it, this is going to be a hard battle. It seems that their
weapons are good, and unfortunately, their armor is strong as
well. This felt a bit odd, as at the outer post, two of the fighters
had been quickly killed. Admittedly, I’d knocked them out
with my critical hits, but their armor had been easy for my

bullets to get through. The explosion of the grenade, together
with the new alerts in the logs, clued me in on the fact there
was a wounded bandit climbing up the stairs. I had to jump up
quickly and, running to the steps, fired off seven rounds to
finish off this reckless bandit. The kinetic damage began to
take effect only after the fifth shot, when the mask’s glass
shattered into smithereens. The sixth bullet passed through,
crushing his cheekbone and knocking off half of his life total.
But the last, the seventh, went into his left eye, completely
killing the enemy and adding a plus one to my tally of persons
dangerous to society I’ve killed, that had neural interfaces.

Having finished with my enemy, I threw out a smoke grenade
next to him. The smoke on the staircase would make it
difficult for others to detect me, since the enemy will have to
pass through it, with limited visibility, but the silhouettes of
the fighters coming out of the smoke will be quite visible to
me. I couldn’t understand why the developers had combined
the statistics on players and NPCs killed? On the one hand,
everything is logical - the bandits also have neural networks
installed. On the other hand, this is bad, as it doesn’t give
players a chance to boast about their good PVP achievements.
The click of the lock to the left of me distracted me from
observing the stairs.
Quickly rushing to the door and waiting for the moment when
the door was opened, I jerked it sharply and, jumping slightly,
I met the soldier who’d fallen forward, after the door opened,
with a knee into his solar plexus. As he bent over, I hammered
into him and forced him down, also afflicting him with the
stunned debuff. I made sure no one was around, before I
savagely cut with my knife into his unprotected neck, ending
him in short order.
The corridor behind the door stretched to the end of the floor,
and every five meters, maybe seven, to the right and left of it,

were symmetrically arranged doors. The corridor itself, for
whatever reason, was extremely narrow - just a meter wide.
Down, on the stairs, I heard the trampling of many feet. It
seems that the bandits from the barracks were already in a
hurry. Picking up the last dead body by the collar of his armor,
I dragged him quickly into the corridor and closed it with a
very massive lock, which, by turning the mechanism, drove
four twelve-mm thick bars into all four slopes of the doorway.
If the bandit hadn’t decided to go out, I’d not have cracked
that door open from the outside.
Closing the door, I immediately turned around and, standing
on my knee, took the corridor at gun point. Continuing to keep
the passage covered with the gun, I groped with my left hand
for the beacon in my pocket and activated it. Once such a mess
has started, it’s time to call reinforcements. Now I just need to
hold on until the cavalry arrives. I was distracted by a
yellowish envelope flashing in the upper left corner, located
near the map, which made me feel like a moron that always
forgets about the game conventions. Mentally unfolding the
letter on the right side of the screen in a narrow strip, which
contained literally two or three words, I began to read what
had been sent to me, casting a glance at the text here and there,
but at the same time keeping the passage covered with my
gun.

Sender: Alexander Carefire
Text of the letter:
Volper, we cannot determine your whereabouts. It looks like
Alckor has a jamming station somewhere. Until you find it
and turn it off, we will not be able to send in the capture
group. To make up for the fact I didn’t tell you this sooner,

I’m sending you an assignment from the outpost to turn it
off.
Closing the letter, I discovered that another envelope was
flashing in the spot of the previous one, only it was now a blue
one.
Sender: Commander of outpost No. 5-17-23
The task:
Find the base of the bandits led by Alckor; you must find and
deactivate, in any way you can, the device that’s jamming the
system of signals.
Penalty for failure: You do not get help from the capture
group.
Fine for failure: You will die.
Reward: You will receive reinforcements within ten minutes
of deactivating the device
Additional rewards: You will receive a +1 reputation with the
outpost No. 5-17-23.
Additional reward 2: You will receive +2 reputation with
Alexander Carefire.
Accept: Yes / No

Wow, it turns out we can have the usual quest tasks here after
all. Mentally clicking on the message, I chose the “Yes”
button, after which several new lines flashed in the window,
showing system messages. But I didn’t have time to deal with
system messages now, the main thing was to not forget to look
through them later, and there was a good stack of unread ones
left to read. Having made the letter and marking Carefire as

the recipient, I quickly outlined the coordinates of the base and
tried to send the letter, but I received a brief response:
Attention! You are in a Den. You are not to send letters until
you exit the Den, or until the recipient enters the Den.
You could have knocked me over with a feather! So, that
means I can receive messages, but I can’t send any – what the
fuck! Okay, then we will fight and employ guerrilla tactics. So,
what do we have here in the trophies? A nice helmet and a
breastplate, plus a leg protection kit that covered the front part
of the shin and knees. The problem was that it would take a
long time to fiddle around with it and understand how to use it.
But the automatic shotgun that hung from the bandit’s case, on
his back, was very useful, I thought.
Automatic Shotgun “Bastion”
Ammunition: 18 caliber
Range: 30 meters
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 80
Shooting modes: single, automatic
Condition: 72%
Weight: 3.2 kg
A disk magazine case for sixteen rounds was fastened to the
shotgun, and two more of the same were found on the corpse.
Having argued a little with myself, I decided not to remove the
polymer cover from the back of the bandit. The boot was made
exactly for the shotgun, allowing you to hold on to the half of
the shotgun firmly in the case. He also had an unlocking lever
pulled to his shoulder so that when you grab the shotgun
handle sticking out over your shoulder, your thumb could
unlock the shotgun and easily pull it out. But I had nowhere to

mount it, I had a backpack, which completely negated this
possibility for carrying weapons. And shotguns are not my cup
of tea.
Such weapons are more often used by physicians, who only
have to fight when the enemy’s able to break through and get
close. Taking the shotgun in my hands, I already wanted to
move along the corridor, clear out the rooms, but my gaze had
been drawn to one of the drums attached to the shotgun, which
was marked by a red strip drawn on the bottom. Comparing
the cartridges in it with the rest, I realized that these were
exclusively bullet cartridges, while case shot was in the other
two.
Smoothbore cartridge (case shot) 18 caliber
Kinetic damage: 35-52
Penetration damage: 3-5
Condition: 100%
Cartridge Weight: 40g
Smooth-bore cartridge (bullet) 18 caliber
Kinetic Damage: 48-56
Penetration damage: 8-12
Modifier: +20 m to Range
Modifier: + 8000 to the accuracy of shooting
Condition: 100%
Cartridge Weight: 40g

Also, the modifiers on the bullet cartridge aren’t half bad. But
in narrow corridors it’s better to use case shot, so the magazine
case with bullets and spare case shot had to be thrown into the
pouch where the grenades used to be. Throwing off one strap
of the backpack and holding my hand through the belt ring, I
pulled the Safirot on my back under the backpack, and then set
the strap of the backpack to my shoulder. Taking the shotgun
in my hands and fixing the gunstock on my shoulder, I set off
along the corridor, slightly bending down. The doors of the
rooms, judging by the location of the slopes, opened inward,
but they were all closed. The only open room was a spacious
one at the end of the corridor, which, judging by the furniture
inside it, was meant for the attendants to have a rest.
Changing the magazine case in the shotgun to bullet cartridges
- they had more damage – I went to the opposite door.
Attaching the artillery tube to the door lock and turning my
face to the side, I fired a shot. Fragments flew to the side, and
instead of a lock, a big hole formed in the door. After
knocking out the remains of the door with my feet, I burst into
the room with the barrel of the shotgun aimed forward, but
didn’t find anyone there. All I could see were the racks with a
huge number of small flasks on them, 70 centimeters high, and
with a width of about 40cms. They had a lot of wires coming
out of them, which were then collected into bundles, and then
that mass of bundles went up to the floor. There were also
bundles of wires which ran through the walls, from the
neighboring rooms.
In the same flasks, various organs were floating in a cloudy,
yellow liquid, to which a lot of small wires led. Most of all, I
was struck by the oddity of some irregular heart shape with
small blister-like growths, which continued to shrink and
expand in an attempt to pump blood through the vessels. I took
a closer look at the different flasks, and then I realized: all the
organs had continued to function, despite the fact that they’d

been separated from the body, and beyond that: all the organs
were mostly defective.
Some of them had blotches, others were deformed, and the
third type had different colors and shades, that aren’t the norm
for human flesh. Finally: all the organs were like human ones,
when I realized that, a chill ran down my spine. One of two
things was possible: either they had been extracted from
mutants or from ordinary people. And then they went through
experiments and mutations. In any case, the motherfuckers
who do these kinds of experiments in this laboratory don’t
deserve to live – they should be punished.
There were some loud noises in the corridor. Jumping out of
the room, I aimed the shotgun at the entrance, since I could
hear loud booms coming from it. Realizing that someone was
breaking the door, I calmed down a bit, I had a couple of
minutes still. I hadn’t noticed any external slots on the doors,
so that means that they would have to break the door down,
and this would take some time. I still need to move faster. The
next two doors also led to warehouses with organs, and I also
noticed some limbs with visible mutations.
The last two doors weren’t far from the front door, and I
hurried to get to them before the bandits broke in. Running to
the left door, I shot the lock and got into the room. And here
was the laboratory of the local vivisector: a table for surgical
operations, a bunch of medical equipment that I couldn’t
understand the workings of, and empty flasks, similar to those
in which the organs were being kept. Coming back into the
corridor, I noticed that the door had begun to heat up.
Apparently, the bandits had decided to bring down the door by
melting it.
Quickly shooting the lock on the last door and picking up the
corpse of the fighter who was still lying around (well, where

could he go, he was dead after all! I would’ve been surprised if
he’d gotten up and went off somewhere to do his business, as
if nothing had happened.) Here, it seemed to me, the world
was far from being one of those sword and magic types, with
its necromancers and necrotic energy. So, with a shotgun in
one hand and with my second hand dragging the corpse behind
me, I broke into the last room, only to see the same warehouse
here as in the other rooms. But I found a shabby room, with
large cells along the walls to the right and left of the entrance.
Quickly glancing at the empty cells, I began to undress the
corpse. Well, what, it’s not my fault that his armor’s better in
terms of performance than my own. According to the rules of
war - what is taken in battle is yours. Unfastening the helmet, I
looked at its attributes.

Open-type helmet “Raider”
Additional slots: Front and side mounts for add-ons
Head Armor:
Kinetic: 12
Penetrating: 17
Thermal: 8
Power: 10
Condition: 96%
Weight: 1.85 kg
With these kinds of stats, you should only shoot at the face,
otherwise you’ll be trying to crack this thing for a long time.
Spending seven minutes on a complete change of clothes, I
rejoiced in my better protection. Having quickly looked out
into the corridor, I noticed that the enemy had only two bars
left to melt and then they would break in here. While there was
time, I looked through the information of my new equipment.

“Raider” Trousers
Additional slots: 4 pocket type, connectors on the outside of
the shins.
Knee / Shin Armor:
Kinetic: 8
Penetrating: 12
Thermal: 5
Power: 4
Thigh Armor:
Kinetic: 4
Penetrating: 4
Thermal: 5
Power: 1
Condition: 93%
Weight: 1.1 kg
“Raider” Jacket
Armor for torso / forearm / elbow / shoulder girdle / shoulder
/ partially for wrist:
Kinetic: 2
Penetrating: 2
Thermal: 6
Power: 1
Condition: 95%
Weight: 0.4 kg
Front protector “Raider”
Additional slots: 8 pouches

Body Armor:
Kinetic: 18
Penetrating: 21
Thermal: 13
Power: 8
Condition: 94%
Weight: 2.6 kg
Quickly moving everything into the pouches on the breastplate
and moving the knives into the special grips on the shins, I
threw the old outfit into the nearest cage. I shouldn’t overload
myself with excess weight right now, I’ll take it back later, if
there’s an opportunity. Replacing the drum in the shotgun with
case shot, I took aim at the door in the corridor and got ready
for an intense fight. The enemy had only the last rod left to
melt, and then the fun would begin.
- Hey, mister, are you good or bad? – A voice came from
behind me.
I almost jerked in surprise. Sharply turning on my knee, I
looked at the far side of the room, where the voice had come
from. In the corner, in a cage, there was a girl on her knees;
she was a small, innocent, 5-year-old girl, grasping the bars of
the cage, and she looked at me with her guileless eyes.
“I’m good,” I replied, swallowing a lump that had rolled up to
my throat, and lowered the barrel of the shotgun.
- And did you come to release me? My mother always told me
not to cry, because good misters would come and save us. - “Your mother was right. By the way, where is she?” - I asked
the child.

- I don’t know, - the girl sobbed, bending her face toward her
shoulder, and my gaze found a collar with some device on the
girl’s neck which was obviously giving her extreme discomfort,
due to how she fiddled with it. “Yesterday, she was taken away
somewhere, and she hasn’t returned yet,” the child went on.
As she spoke, I looked at the collar, then at the description
above her head, and I just couldn’t believe that the developers
had done this.
- “Dear, what’s your name?”
- Ellie. And yours? - “I’m Volper.” I introduced myself in response, regretfully
noticing that now, in the description above the child, was only
the name, there’d been no further changes. “Ellie, you’ll have
to wait here a little longer, Mister Volper will get rid of the bad
guys right away, and then immediately set you free!”
- Really? - “I swear!” - I smiled back, despite the fact that inside me, a
dark anger was rising to the surface.
Returning to the door jamb, I stood slightly at an angle from it,
to keep the front door in my sights, wearing a predatory smile.
I wouldn’t let this girl die! If necessary, I’ll bring her to the
first level on my own back, but I will return her to her
relatives! I ran my free hand over my face, wiped away my
grin, and took a deep breath to calm down. I turned to Ellie
with a reassuring smile and winked at her. And in front of my
eyes, I again saw the message, emphasized with a bold, red
color:
Hidden mutant Ellie, level 27. (It is recommended that you
destroy it!).

CHAPTER XII: I HAVE TO GET OUT OF THE DEN

While holding the door, through which the bandits were about
to enter the room, I was feverishly mulling the situation over.
The problem wasn’t the girl named Ellie, who was behind me,
in a cage. Perhaps other players would’ve killed her to get
points and increased levels, but I wouldn’t have the heart to
kill her. Over the course of my rather long and tumultuous life,
most of which I’d served in the army, I had committed loads of
sins, and I could say that I was steeped in blood up to my
elbows, or rather, up to my eyes. But I’d never been able to
kill a child, and it didn’t matter whether it was just a set of
numbers or a real child. Regardless of what my future held in
store for me in this game, I did not want to stain my hands
with a horrible crime, with such monstrous actions. Coming to
a decision, I got rid of all the unnecessary thoughts in my
head, they would only distract me while I was in battle. I was
mentally prepared for a very serious fight. Just before the door
fell down, I again found myself smiling that bloodthirsty smile
that reminded me of a predator’s grin.
The moment the door began to fall, I switched to an automatic
mode and emptied about half the magazine case at an angle, in
the direction of the door. I minced them up just like meat.
Those who’d been at the door were killed, and I was ecstatic,
wanting to kill them all. I jumped and rolled across the
corridor, and there I was - in the opposite room. Again I
rushed to the doorway. Pressing my shoulder against the
doorframe, I shot all those fighters who were approaching me
with case shot. I’d noticed them falling victim to a common
mistake of military storming tactics – they’d grouped on both
sides of the door, allowing me to shoot most of the fighters
since I was an intelligent opponent – which was a great
opportunity for me to get rid of the enemy.
It would’ve been better if they had put a couple of excellent
shooters right in front of the doorway, and one more fighter on
each of the sides as well. With this layout, most of the

defenders’ shots would simply have gone above their heads,
giving precious time to the shooters to deal with the most
dangerous opponents. But now their mistake had become my
advantage, giving me a chance to somehow fight back.
Therefore, I wasn’t about to give them any tips; I’d rather
throw a grenade at them, as a gift to show my appreciation. I
took two steps back, reloading my shotgun, and I threw away
the barrel since I didn’t have any ammunition for the
equipment; it would’ve only got in my way.
I cast a glance at the logs: there are three murders displayed,
and even the grenade had dealt damage to the other two. These
logs are convenient, but I’m not used to using them. That’s
okay – I’ll train myself not to ignore them in due time. I
retreated one more step, freeing up some space for dispersal,
and after a couple more steps, gaining speed, I rushed out into
the corridor. I pushed my foot off the opposite door jamb,
losing some of the speed, but changing the trajectory of my
movement, and I flew down the flight of stairs.
I sacrificed my shoulder in a reckless maneuver, not tucking
my limbs in. I also ended up just firing wildly around, as soon
as I landed. Um … It turns out I hadn’t needed to do that; there
was practically no one left to shoot at: three corpses and two
seriously wounded enemy fighters, with their health bar nearly
empty - that’s all that was waiting for me at the stairwell.
Damn it, this is even a bit frustrating! I’d expected such a
spectacular battle, but it turned out to be… nothing, with only
my shoulder taking any damage, due to me slamming it into
the concrete floor. I jumped up from the floor and, running up
to the still breathing enemies, I quickly disarmed them. Lifting
one of them up by his overalls, I yelled right in his face, trying
to put pressure on them:
- WHERE IS THE JAMMING SYSTEM? ANSWER QUICKLY! WHICH
FLOOR IS THE THING ON?

- “Fuck you,” he spat back at me, and the last blink of his
health bar indicated his death.

Turning to the second fighter, I wanted to try to get the answer
out of him, but a completely gray bar above him showed that I
wouldn’t get any answers there; my attempt had been in vain.
Quickly checking their equipment, my eyes caught a
submachine gun on one of the dead bodies.
“Viro” submachine gun
Ammunition: 5.86x25
Range: 80 meters
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 800
Shooting modes: single, three rounds, five rounds, automatic
Installed modules:
Collimating scope
Condition: 86%
Weight: 2.4 kg

The attributes are even better than my Safirot; moreover, the
collimating scope is installed, which increases accuracy. I can
see one problem, however: there are only five magazine stores
for the Viro. I hope that will be enough for me to break
through to the warehouses, where I will replenish my
ammunition. Having installed a grenade on the stairs, I
dragged all the corpses into the room where the laboratory was
located. Throwing off Safirot and all the excess weight from
my backpack, I made myself as light as possible. I just took
the Viro, along with its five cases and a shotgun, putting the
remaining cartridges in one case. Looking through the logs, I
saw that there were no new enemies left and continued
equipping myself. Taking the magazine case of the Viro, I
fired one cartridge to see it in operation and noticed how a
small flash of bluish light flashed in the depths of the case,
under the cartridges. It turns out that I’d gotten unusual
magazine cases, as well as cartridges.

Magazine case for the pistol-machine gun “Viro” M2
Built-in two-fold miniaturization system
Ammunition: 5.86x25
Amount of cartridges: 100
Condition: 92%
Weight: 0.25 kg
The rifled cartridge “5.86 х25” BP-17
Kinetic damage: 8-10
Penetration damage: 17-21
Thermal damage: 25-42
Condition: 76%
Cartridge Weight: 6.8gr
Awesome ammunition I’ve got here! A couple of shots would
be enough to send me to respawn. After equipping the
submachine gun, I began to search the laboratory for tools I
could use to open the cage and remove the collar from Ellie.
Five minutes later, I was lucky in finding something useful
and, to my surprise, there wasn’t a single enemy to keep me
from it. Standing in the corridor with a bundle of magnetic
keys in my hands, I looked at the stairwell, perplexed. This is a
den, in which there must be loads of bots, surely. But wait! In
many games, the different dungeons are divided into zones,
and until you enter the new zone, the mobs or bots that are
there don’t attack you. It looks like that’s how it’s done here.
Figuring that’s how it was, I was already more calm when
approaching the cage with the girl, but I didn’t take off the
grenade, let it stay there. Approaching the cage, I began to
smile, so that the little girl wouldn’t be frightened.
- Hey Ellie, did you have time to get bored without me? -

- “Oh, Mister Volper, I thought that the big, bad men killed
you,” she sobbed, and I winced at these words. Children her
age shouldn’t know about death. She should be playing with
dolls, but instead, she’s locked up and worrying about me
getting killed.
- It’s all right, little baby, now I’ll pick up the key and we’ll
go and find a way out of here, - I reassured her, sorting
through the keys and alternately testing them on the lock. You see, little angel, I’ve almost opened the door, - I said,
when, after the seventh key, the lock fluttered, meaning that
it was finally open.
Going to Ellie, I quickly got out the key to her collar. While I
was taking off the collar, the little girl, putting her arms around
my neck, began to cry softly. Picking the girl up with my left
hand, I went to the flight of stairs, gritting my teeth at every
step. While walking, I opened the collar information.
Collar “PPS”
Properties: Collar suppresses psionics
Condition: 83%
Weight: 0.7 kg
It seems that Ellie is a psionic. Although she’s young, judging
by the level of danger that the system has given her, the girl
has a lot of potential. Getting to the flight of stairs, I put her on
the steps and tried to get out of her embrace, without any
success. The little darling clung to me like a favorite toy and
didn’t want to let go.
“Ellie, I need to check if there are any more bad guys around.
As soon as I check, I’ll be right back.”
“All right,” she mumbled, letting go of my neck.

Carefully taking out a grenade, I began to slowly descend the
steps, holding the next flight in my sights.
-

“Mister Volper!” – As I heard her scream, I almost shit
my pants.

Running back up the steps, I flew to the place where I’d left
Ellie. Quickly looking around, I didn’t find any danger and
looked at the girl sternly. Well, I did my best to, at least. But
Ellie didn’t pay any attention to the strict expression on my
face.
“Mister Volper, my uncle Krill will be coming for me soon and
he will take me home,” the small angel said joyfully.
- Hush, baby! – I began to calm the girl, fearing that her
shouting might attract someone. - Who is this Uncle Krill? - “Uncle Krill always comes for us and saves us from bad
men.”
- Why didn’t he come for you earlier? - “I don’t know; I couldn’t hear him when I had that bracelet
around my neck.”
- How could you hear… - I’d already gotten it, but decided to
clarify everything.
- “I heard him in my head: Uncle Krill can communicate
without words.”
- Okay, then I’ll look for the bad men, so they don’t find us.
And you keep close to me, but a little behind me. - “OK.”
- You’re a good girl, - I stroked her head.
Holy shit! It looks like a high-level telepath is coming here to
pick Ellie up. It’s good that Ellie knows him and trusts him,
and I can give her to him without fear, well, if this telepath

doesn’t fry my brain first. With such thoughts on my mind, I
started down the stairs again, but then I changed my mind and
came back. I quickly decided to place mines at the second
door, which had been closed until now. This time, already
feeling more confident, I started to descend. The next floor
was an empty platform and two closed doors. If this goes on
much longer, I will run out of grenades very quickly, I thought,
placing mines near both doors. And so, moving floor by floor
and mining all the closed doors, I slowly descended. On the
12th floor, I stopped. Getting down on my knee before Ellie, I
told her:
- Dear Ellie, my good girl, please wait for me here for a while,
I’m going downstairs; I’ll see if there are any bad men there
and then come back - in return, she grabbed my sleeve and
was clearly against me doing that.
“Don’t do that, Mister Volper, you’ll be hurt there!” She
looked at me very seriously, with sadness in her eyes, then
touched my cheek with her little fingers.
- Don’t worry; everything will be alright! - I unhooked her
fingers from my sleeve and headed down.

Carefully stepping onto the staircase, I tried to catch any
possible movement at the point of the collimator’s aim, not
forgetting Ellie’s warning. She, though still being a little girl,
was a psionic, and her abilities were still unknown to me. High
perception once again helped me, allowing me to hear an
indistinct rustle of cloth on the staircase of the 11th floor.
Taking the last offensive grenade and pulling out the ring, I
threw it through the remains of the railing, at roughly the place
where the sound was coming from.
I crouched down at once and lowered my head, so that the top
part of the helmet would cover my face from any accidental
splinters, or even receiving a bullet to the eye from the

criminals, which would’ve been a very nasty present. Hearing
the clap of a grenade explosion, I immediately jumped up,
pressing the gunstock to my shoulder, and I began to observe
my surroundings through the sight glass with my right eye,
meanwhile, my left eye had noticed some motion in the
periphery of my vision. With a rapid lateral step, I got into
position and was able to see the whole stairwell. I finished off
the wounded bandits who had obviously been waiting for me.
The small explosions caused by each bullet were an unpleasant
surprise. I’d thought that the plasma charge would just burn
them from the inside out, but it was an additional detonation.
Since I was down the stairs, I replaced the submachine gun
with a shotgun: it’s more effective to use in the corridors and
hallways. Pressing my back to the right wall and keeping the
left side of the corridor in view, I moved slowly to the corner
of the turn. Having reached the corner, I noticed, in the left
corridor, the edge of the barricades which were being erected
from materials on hand. Some boxes, together with metal
cabinets and parts of beds, were being used to create these
barricades. It seemed like a similar obstacle was waiting for
me on the right side. Taking out a smoke grenade, I threw it
around the corner, putting up a smoke screen in the right
corridor.
- “Hey guys, what’s that shit there?” – I heard the sound of
someone’s voice from around the corner.
- “Shut up and observe the passage!”
- Come on ***** ***** I can’t see a thing down here. - Shut your mouth! Did they tell you to observe the corridor or
not? So do your job, *****, or I’ll kill you myself, after the
replicator spits you out, repeatedly. Got it, moron? - Why me? I’m doing my best! I’m observing! Shaking my head, I prepared two concussion grenades. I do
not understand how Alckor had managed to do so much with
these morons, and they haven’t been caught yet, to boot? After
waiting seven seconds for the smoke to fully cover the right

side of the corridor, I threw the first concussion grenade at the
wall and into the left corridor, using the ricochet. 331… 332…
and I threw the second grenade the same as I had the first. I
quickly crouched, lowered my head and tightly closed my
eyes. With my bare hands, I clamped down on my ears and
opened my mouth wide, so that my eardrums don’t burst. A
second later, an acoustic blow hit me, and, after a couple of
seconds, the second one did as well.
After the second explosion, I immediately jumped up, shotgun
in hand, and I was off into the left corridor to finish off the
crippled fighters. Behind me, bullets were whistling by
randomly. It seems that somebody’s had a nervous breakdown,
and they’ve decided to shoot down the corridor with their
submachine gun, without even realizing they could shoot their
comrades as well. Right now, I was actually amazed at these
morons and how utterly fucking stupid they were. They should
have set up the defenses at the very beginning of the corridor,
then the whole flight of stairs would always be under the threat
of surprise close-range fire. Well, yes, there would be more
danger for the fighters, but the defensive ability would be five
times as great. As I pondered this, I managed to shoot 4 of the
enemy with my powerful cartridges, reducing them to dust.
The corridor led me into a large barracks, with rows of beds
inside. Near each bed there was a nightstand, a wardrobe, a
simple weapon cabinet and a small table. They had nice
conditions here – I looked to the right and to the left, and there
was even a bathroom with a shower! Nice, comfortable
accommodations, I wouldn’t even call these barracks.
Stepping back to the right, thus hiding behind the door, I
glanced around, looking for where my opponents might have
hidden to remain unnoticed. Not finding anyone, I returned to
the corridor again. At the opposite end, the smoke was already
starting to dissipate. Speeding up, I, slightly bent down, rushed
into the smoke. Damn it, I have run out of regular shrapnel,
and I could hurt myself by shooting the plasma ones.

I will have to break through, though. Having reached the
smokescreen, I drew up my legs, falling onto my knees; I
slipped along the concrete floor on the metal overlays on my
shins, bending over. Only when there was a gap in the smoke,
I shot all the shotgun ammunition at the enemy’s fort, not
really hoping to hit anyone, but just to protect myself from the
fire on their side, which didn’t allow me to raise my head from
behind the barricades.
The dry, clicking sound of the shotgun echoed simultaneously
with the termination of the slide. The speed I’d gained was off
by a couple meters, preventing me from reaching the
barricades set up by the bandits with just my slide. I threw
aside the shotgun, which I didn’t need anymore and I grabbed
my submachine gun, while jumping at the same time and
landing on my feet in their semicircle. I had just managed to
balance myself, when I immediately felt my chest explode
with acute pain, and I was thrown aback with terrible force. I
tumbled uncontrollably on the concrete floor, thrown a good
few meters.
Everything was mixed up in my head, colors were flashing in
my eyes and multicolored spots were everywhere I looked,
and I couldn’t concentrate on one point. Leaning my hands on
the floor, I tried to get up, but cramps didn’t allow me to move
my limbs, and blood clots were bursting out of my chest,
causing me to cover the whole space of the floor beneath me
with red, bloody puddles when I coughed. The second cramp
caused my hands to buckle, and I fell into a puddle of my own
blood, and in my head, I had the only thought: “I wonder how
I got so much blood? It’s strange, since… there are three or
five liters in a human being, and I’ve already spat out about a
bucket’s worth.” Concentrating, I noticed that the life bar was
flashing an alarming red color, only ten percent full.
A little below, just under the set of indicators, there is a whole
lot of flashing icons, fifteen in total. So now I can see my

debuffs? It would be fun if I got an achievement for the most
number of debuffs at the same time. I should calm down and
get a grip. There is a little child out there, waiting for my help,
now isn’t the time for me to lay about and relax. I try to pull
my legs under me, but I understand that I don’t feel them at
all. Fucking shit! It seems that my spine has also been injured,
so I won’t get anywhere. A new fit of coughing twists my
body, as if I were being electrocuted.
I take out the plasma grenade and grasp it in my left hand,
pulling out the ring with my right hand. Then I hear steps
approaching. I’m trying to see who is coming toward me, but
my head won’t rise above the knee level of the approaching
fighter. With my right hand I grope for the gun and pull it out
of the holster, pointing it at the approaching figure, but a sharp
blow to my weakened hand knocks the pistol out of it, and I
fall over onto my back. But now I see who’s approached me.
Alckor was standing over me. No, there was no name over
him, but only a fool wouldn’t guess who it was, when they
saw the sign above him.
The leader of the bandits (the chief boss of the den) 7/24
level
My, oh my! Look at you! By the way, now I could remember
my grandfather’s words, which, in most cases, I hadn’t
understood All those proverbs and weird expressions had been
a mystery to me. I can at least say them at the right time, I
think. Maybe I can ask a bunch of players to help me decipher
them… Damn it, my thoughts have drifted away again. It
seems that I have a concussion as one of the debuffs. I am
gazing at Alckor, observing him carefully and trying to
memorize everything. After the respawn, I’ll still deal with
this motherfucker. The leader of the bandits was wearing
energy armor, judging by the overflows running along the
body of the breastplate. Yeah, and the size is about one and a
half times the size of an ordinary person, which also suggests

the use of hydraulic amplifiers, or, perhaps, even a complex of
nano-muscles built into the armor. He was holding an impulse
shotgun in his hands. More precisely, the gun in Alckor’s
hands looks like just him.
It’s clear now what kind of force knocked me down. It’s
strange that I was even able to collect my thoughts that much.
Although, I had even been lucky - shotguns operate in the ring
pulse mode, which deals a devastating blow to the area they’re
aimed at. But if it had been an automatic pulse, it would have
been even worse. They release conical impulses with a point
directed toward the flight pulse, first penetrating the target,
and then expanding and tearing outward from the penetration
point. Damn, why do my thoughts keep drifting away? I must
concentrate, I will still have to kill him after the respawn.
While there’s still an opportunity, it’s worth studying my
enemy-to-be in detail.
Why is he my enemy-to-be? Because, right now, I’m clearly
waiting for my end! I’ve overestimated myself. So, the elbow
and knee joints seem to be the most vulnerable, because I do
not observe any energy spills there. He also forgoes the
helmet. It’s clear that the head is protected by a force field, but
if the field batteries are discharged due a high amount of
damage taken, then armor plays a part, but there is no armor
on his head. So the second priority target will be his head.
Approaching me, Alckor put his foot on my chest and leaned
his elbows on my knee, looking into my face, causing a new
fit of coughing and getting bloody foam on my lips.
“Give him something to postpone his early death,” he said,
still looking into my eyes, and didn’t even check whether
they’d heard him or not.
Alckor’s request was heard, and some nondescript old man in
a yellow lab coat ran up and injected some stuff into my neck,

which caused my strip of health to become covered with
hoarfrost and a three-minute timer appeared beside it.
-

“You have about three minutes,” the old man said in a
squeaky voice, then walked behind Alckor, ducking out of
my zone of visibility.

-

“Oh, three minutes is more than enough for us,” he said.
“Well, hello there, Volper! I think I’m not mistaken, am
I?”

- “You’re right, that’s me,” I rattled. Well, so what if he wants
to pointlessly gab away before murdering me, ok, let him be,
maybe he could tell me an interesting story, and after I
respawn, I’ll use it to kill this motherfucker.
- “I got it right, then; my client described you in fine detail.
And the way you dealt with my guys in the tunnels is very
similar to what you did here at the base. What? Are you
surprised to know how I know this?” Perhaps the expression
on my face was very eloquent. “No, none of them have come
out of the replicator still; you calculated everything correctly
for this attack. Simply put, one good hacker, for a sufficiently
large reward, messed with the neuron interface of all my
fighters and now, in the event of their death, the logs for their
last three hours of life are sent to me. No, I’m not
complaining: you have the right to protect your life, it’s my
fault; I underestimated your abilities. Basically, the other
replicants like you cannot do even the tenth of what you did.
However, I still can’t understand why my guys got twenty-four
hours, instead of the usual twelve-hour penalty for their
replication, but I’ll figure it out soon. By the way, I liked how
you played on my emotions and lured most of the fighters out
of the base. And I even sent the best ones, as insurance after
the death of the first group. And then you’re here, starting to
kill the remaining gang members at the base. I applaud you,”
and he clapped twice, lightly. “Voila, our time is almost over, I
talked with you a lot,” he straightened up, took up the
shotgun, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, lowered it.

“You know what, I’ve got an idea! Join my gang; I’ll make you
my right hand. With your talents, we’ll achieve a lot. Only,
there’s one condition – you must raise the red level above your
own and then come to me, I’ll be glad to see you. Think about
it when you leave the replicator.”
Removing his leg from my chest, he again took up the
shotgun, but he was stopped by a light clicking noise coming
from under my back and a large smile on my bloody lips.
“We’ll meet after the respawn, dirt bag!”
I croaked, pulling my left hand out from under my back, which
from the moment I’d fell on my back had been pressed down
by my body. Having unclenched my fingers, I slid the plasma
grenade straight to Alckor, under his feet. And then my mind
was filled with the high-temperature fire of a plasma grenade
explosion. I would never have thought that a death from
plasma is as colorful as it is painful.

CHAPTER XIII: Second

Chance

When the flames obscuring my vision dispersed, I could
barely restrain myself from swearing so loudly so that the
whole universe would echo with the most abusive words
imaginable. Instead, my brain began to feverishly look for
answers. I once again crouched on one knee in front of Ellie,
and she stroked my cheek. There were several explanations,
but I was inclined to only one of them. It remains only to
confirm or refute these suppositions. Taking her hand into
mine and looking this angelic child’s eyes, I asked the question
that interested me the most:
- “My Tiny Angel, did you do that?” She nodded in response.
“How did you do it?”
- I don’t know, I just sometimes know what to do and what I
shouldn’t. And I can show people I care for what they should
and shouldn’t do. - “Thank you, my dear!” I hugged her and kissed her filthy
little forehead.
Now I was beginning to understand why the system had given
her such a high level of danger. If you develop her abilities to
the fullest and assign five highly qualified fighters to her, then
they would be invincible, because she’d allow them to
consider all the routes and outcomes of their futures, in a split
second. The fighters would be able to work out all the options
with her and decide which one would be the best in each case.
Judging by her “sometimes” remark, I could guess she didn’t
have any control over her abilities at present. But I’d been
saved from one explosion by her, for which I was very
grateful. So what conclusions can we draw from this situation?
On the 11th floor, Alckor had barricaded himself, a man whom
I would shoot and shoot for hours on end with my humble
weapons. I went to the stairs and sat down on the top step,

putting the Viro on my lap and carefully watching the stairs
below me. I had just a couple of minutes to think about the
situation.
Why had Alckor barricaded himself in the barracks? I
understand that on the right side of the barracks, where he is
staying, there is a replicating capsule, but judging by his
psychological profile, it would be more logical for him to hide
on the main floor of the base, allowing him to control the
automated defenses from there, without letting me go. One of
two things was at play here: either he’d gathered all the
remnants of the fighters together, waiting for another group of
troopers to return, or he had another ace in the hole but,
unfortunately, I don’t know which one. There is still an “Uncle
Krill” who is rushing here with all due haste, but again, I have
no idea when he will be here.
- Ellie, sweetheart, so when will Uncle Krill get here? - I asked
the girl who was sitting next to me, huddled against my side.
In response, I received only a shrug of her shoulders. Okay,
let’s not count on this Krill, then. Only one option remains: to
break through into the street and leave the area of the jamming
system, and from there, I would call in reinforcement forces
from the outpost. If I were alone, I would just go back upstairs
and leave the same way I’d gotten here, but with a little girl in
my arms, I doubted very much that I would be able to pull off
such a trick. In reality, when I’d been the same age as my
game character, I could’ve easily done it. But, here in the
game, there is such a harmful stat called strength, and if you
are overloaded, then you can barely drag along, that is, without
taking into account adrenaline and all kinds of stressful
situations in which an ordinary person can do outrageous
things. Since I don’t see any other options, we will act
according to this newly formed plan.

- Dear Ellie, do you think it will be a success? - I decided to
try my luck. Maybe her super ability has already vanished, but
I wonder…
- “I don’t know,” - she drawled, shaking her shoulders. Well, it
was worth a shot.
- Then, my little one, you should do exactly as I say. And
please try not to get scared. If it happens, close your eyes and
that’s all, okay? - She nodded vigorously. - Go back to the
middle of the site, and when you see me waving my hand, run
to me quickly. Making sure that she’d understood everything and gone to the
place where I’d asked her to, I went downstairs. I dealt with
the first two fighters; I figured out how to do it easily, I still
had that recent vision in my memory. But then I acted
completely differently. Throwing both smoke grenades into the
two corridors, trying not to make any noise, I ran up the stairs
and, when I saw Ellie, waved my hand to her. Together with
the girl, I went down to the eleventh floor and, boldly, having
collected myself, like the great hero of a blockbuster, I rushed
downstairs, even further away from Alckor and his ambuscade
regiment. That’s enough for him to win in the vision, and I,
being a true hero, wasn’t going to rush to the barricades.

Between the ninth and tenth floors, I stopped for a while,
quickly put all the remaining plasma grenades into one heap
and made a trap out of them on the steps, at about the level of
an adult’s knee. The main aim of this grenade trap was not to
kill people, but to bring down the flight of stairs. Although I
doubted that its power would be enough to destroy the
concrete walls. Having installed this “surprise” trap, I asked
Elli to go down a bit lower, and I shot all the lights that I saw
with my eyes, making it difficult to detect the trap. We
continued our descent. Reaching the eighth floor, I was

unpleasantly surprised by a droid flying over us. We were
lucky that, when we appeared in its cone of vision, it had just
flown through a hole in the wall and couldn’t detect us.
Putting a finger to my lips, I showed Ellie that she should be
as quiet as a mouse. Going down to the landing, I found that
the staircase leading down was littered with fragments of
concrete, completely blocking the possibility of descending at
this point. It was very strange, because, judging by the words
of the captives, this should have been one of the warehouse
floors; and now the droid is flying toward us. And the floor
itself looks very bad: scraps of hanging wires, breaks in the
walls. It’s as if a violent fight had been going on around here.
However, there are no holes from lasers and bullets. So,
maybe they’re just re-decorating? Who knows?
I wonder why all these piles of rubbish are here, such a
mess… Pressing my back against the wall, I began to move
toward the hole in the wall where the droid had passed through
and missed us, with a smoke grenade in my hand. It’s not the
best protection, but there is a chance that the droid’s sensors
can lose track of us in the smoke. Climbing to the breach, with
an abrupt movement of the head I looked out and moved back
to hiding instantly. Even if I hadn’t planned to do it right away,
the thing that appeared in my view would’ve simply forced my
head back. Now I was really panicking, and my knees failed
me.

(Illustration: Volper and Ellie on the eighth floor)

Behind the opening in the wall, there was a huge room, where
an anthropomorphic robot that was three meters, perhaps even
four meters tall, was heading toward us. His right-hand
manipulator ended in a chainsaw that was practically my size,
but the left one resembled a machine gun very much, near the
muzzle of which there were four claws, just like fingers,
allowing the manipulator to catch various objects. I also
noticed that, at the end of the hall, where the flying droid was
hovering, there was a large staircase, which, judging by the
fresh welding joints, had been installed quite recently. Now we
were in deep shit. Ahead of us was a large robot, designed for
combat. Judging by its weaponry, it could be assumed that its
mission was to battle at medium and short distances, against
enemy infantry. And above its head, there was the description:
The guardian of the Den - level54

In addition to all of that, he has an assistant - a flying
reconnaissance droid, with a light mobile machine gun in the
frontal part of its body. Behind us, a mined staircase awaited
us, and a little higher, Alckor was in fairly potent armor,
wielding a pulse shotgun, which, in my vision, had taken 95%
of my life and given me a ton of debuffs with just one shot.
Damn it, this was just like the saying that I’d heard from my
grandfather. How had he said it? Let me remember it –
“Between the devil and the deep blue sea”… That’s probably
how he’d used to say it. Random bullshit was getting stuck in
my mind again. This shit always starts when the situation
becomes critical. I feel ashamed of it, but, over the course of
my rather long life, I haven’t been able to get rid of this
problem.

I didn’t have the slightest idea how to walk past such a guard
unnoticed, but now I realized why Alckor was hiding quietly
in the barracks. If you remember that he gets the logs of his
fighters after death, then he’d known for sure that I was
coming to his den, so he’d turned on the jamming system and
a new security system that cannot be circumvented without
heavy weapons. Looking out again, I noticed that the spy droid
was coming back. There were no options: I had to leave.
Holding the girl in my arms, I ran up the stairs to the ninth
floor quietly. Lowering Ellie into the corner of the platform
farthest from the stairs, covering her with my body, I started
racking my brain. No matter how hard I tried to find a way out
of the situation, I couldn’t come up with any feasible options. I
thought that if I got killed, the girl would be left alone here,
which I couldn’t do to her.
But wait! I’m on the warehouse floor! It’s worth trying to open
those doors; maybe there would be weapons I need for the
fight there… Having checked my equipment over well, I chose
one of the magazine cases for the Viro. Quickly flipping the

cartridges out of the store, I began to disassemble them,
clamping the bullet point in the knee joint of the metal plates
protecting the lower leg and knee, and loosening the bullet in
the sleeve in different directions. Having examined about fifty
cartridges this way, I took out, through the tips, the hightemperature mixture that was inside each bullet. I was lucky before the detonation, the mixture was just a paste with an
indoor temperature; otherwise I wouldn’t have managed
without special tools.
Adding gunpowder from the cartridges to the mix, I evenly
distributed the resulting mixture along the contour of the right
door and, inserting a detonator from the edge of a smoke
grenade, I took Ellie to the staircase below. I tried to angle
myself so I was safe too (in case of some mishap) and then
pulled out the ring of the grenade. After that, I rushed down
the stairs and, picking up Ellie, covered her with my body,
squeezing the tiny girl in my arms. A small pop-up message
alerted me about the activation of my device, and a flashing
alert about achieving the current development limit of the
mechanical hacking skill came up – so I understood that my
plan had worked. Also, I’d acquired a new skill.
Attention! You have received access to the skill “Explosives”
Getting back to the door, I found it dangling on the lower door
latch. Several kicks and it fell inward with a bang, giving me
an overview of that rather big room, divided only by
supporting columns. The whole room was filled with metal
boxes of two meters in length and a meter in height and in
width. The boxes stood stacked one on top the other, right up
to the ceiling, with only small passages for navigating around
them left. The first thought that flashed through my mind was
that I had gotten into a “gun paradise”, but the harsh reality
dampened my high spirits. In the first box I opened were packs
with combat rations, as in the second one, the third and all
subsequent ones.

What bad luck this is! It seems that I shouldn’t have pumped
up any other skills but good luck when creating my character. I
feel utterly discouraged. I’d spent a lot of time breaking
through the door and ended up in the food warehouse. Kicking
one of the boxes with all my strength, I felt the whole building
shaking. While I was backpedaling, looking from the toe of
my boot to the drawer and trying to understand what had
caused the building to shake, I felt another strong quake, that
caused several of the upper drawers to fall onto the floor.
Quickly placing the fallen boxes into one heap, I formed a
kind of barricade out of them, and, having sat Ellie on the
floor behind this simple cover, I held the entrance door at gun
point. I didn’t know what was going on there, but now I just
had to wait. In just a minute, an envelope icon flashed in my
field of vision again, informing me of a new incoming letter.

Sender: Alexander Carefire
Text of the letter:
Well done! Signal received, we’re on our way to you.
Estimated time of arrival is eight minutes. Hold on!
What was odd was that I’d never gotten to the jamming
system, but Carefire had been able to catch the beacon’s
signal, and the quest was now closed for me. The
corresponding system messages have popped up as well,
notifying me of the increase in my reputation. My musings
were halted by the explosion below, and the building
shuddering once more. Something is clearly approaching, and
it’s moving in from the lower floors. Getting all unnecessary
thoughts out of my head, I stared at the doorway, aiming down
the sights. My thoughts would now interfere, surely. Breathe
in and breathe out! I am trying to calm down my nerves.
Breathe in and breathe out! My pulse returns to a normal
speed. I don’t plan any actions, giving control of the body to

my instincts and my subconscious, because it works several
times faster than my conscious thinking. Then, the floor below
me begins to tremble.
I reacted instantly - by jumping to the side, grabbing Ellie in
my arms along the way, rolling over a couple of times, to slow
down after my jump, and letting go of the girl. And then I got
down on my knee, covering the child with my body. In front of
me, in the doorway, stood an enemy. Seeing it – I got goose
bumps up and down my back. He himself wasn’t too scary:
wearing dark gray, protective overalls made out of some
elastic material, a half mask of the same material that covered
the lower half of his face, leaving only his purple eyes visible,
with dark hair, pulled into a small tail. In his hands, he held
two thin, curved blades, which were fifty centimeters long. It
seemed to me there was nothing unusual about him, well, if
you didn’t take into account that he’d broken through the
guards so easily and violently. The sign above him made me
panic a little more.
Unknown mutant – level 217
So, this is the end! The only thought that ran through my head
was that she should escape.
“Ellie, run!” – My hoarse voice rang out sharply and I put my
finger on the trigger of the submachine gun.
A greenish energy field formed in front of the mutant, which
my bullets couldn’t get through. They only made small ripples
in it, just burning up when coming into contact with such a
high concentration of energy. At that moment, I didn’t care
that I couldn’t damage him, I had to give the girl at least one
extra second of time so that she could escape. I would have to
respawn, but I was hoping she wouldn’t.

- “Mister Volper, don’t do that!” She cried from behind me,
touching my shoulder. “This is Uncle Krill, he’s come to get
me.”
-Well … I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize him, - I said in shock,
no longer firing at him.
After standing still for about five seconds, in one quick move,
he pushed the sword blades behind his back. His arms were
loose against his body and he gestured toward me with an
open palm.
“Uncle Krill wants to thank you for helping me out, and now
he will take me home,” Ellie said, coming out from behind my
back and patting my cheek; she then ran up to Krill and he
hugged her.
Krill picked the girl up in his arms and turned to the crack next
to the door. Apparently, he wanted to jump off, but stopped
and turned his head to Ellie. The girl also turned to him and
began to occasionally nod her head, and sometimes shake it
from side to side. A moment later, after that silent
conversation, which I observed mutely, blinking owlishly, Elli
turned her face to me and, wrinkling her forehead, began to
speak loudly.
“Uncle Krill asked me to tell you the following, word-forword: Tell him… ask this replicant to not tell anyone about
meeting us, it will be better for him, otherwise, he will have a
hard time explaining to everyone what he did and what he saw.
Although I don’t understand why they would pester you, Mister
Volper,“ - to which Krill only chuckled. – “No, I’m not going
off topic. Anyway, Uncle Krill will then find a way to express
his grati- … Uncle Krill, that’s a very difficult word for me,” -

she said to him. - “Oh, yes … I understand. Uncle Krill will
find a way to thank you properly for saving me. There it is!”
- Not at all. Children shouldn’t suffer, no matter what, - I
smiled back.
Krill simply shook his head in reply, apparently agreeing with
me, after which Ellie waved to me, and Krill, holding her in
his arms, jumped into the hole. I was now left sitting and
trying to understand how fast he would have turned me into
ashes, if I hadn’t saved Ellie. I got up, went to the hole and
looked down. Directly below me were the remains of the
guard, consisting, approximately, of fifteen uneven parts, cut
by something extremely sharp, and here and there, in certain
places, the metal was still glowing a reddish color –it probably
hadn’t completely cooled down yet.
I rushed to the stairs, looking around, searching for danger. I
understood that this super-mutant had passed here twice - first
in one direction, then the another, but the problem was that it
had been moving too fast. There could still be a lot of dangers
left, which he’d simply ignored. When I went up to the stairs
and examined everything, seeing how safe they were to
descend, I heard an explosion at the top. It looks like Alckor
had sent the fighters down after me, and they’d just triggered
my last gift. I passed level 7 without any difficulties, going
down the stairs, but on the sixth level, I had to take another
detour - the staircase was again at the opposite end of the floor.
The concrete walls were a real labyrinth. There were potholes
everywhere, making traversal difficult. After walking around
this labyrinth for a little while, I found the right passage. I set
up four anti-personnel mines with laser detonators, designed to
burst immediately upon interruption of the laser beam and
deliver a lethal, explosive payload. Also, along the way, I
found several false plates on the floor. What was under them –
I didn’t check, to avoid accidentally detonating them, and I

just tagged these spots on my map and, carefully
circumventing them, I moved on.
But on the fifth floor, I saw the remains of two automatic laser
turrets, which had before been hidden in the floor, it seems. If
Krill hadn’t gone through here, I would be having a hard time
right now. I needed to completely change my plans again. The
reality of this virtual reality (wow, what an expression!) forces
me to find different solutions to the problem, changing my
approach several times a day. Earlier, in my youth, that was
good - you were given a task, and you fulfilled it. And later, it
wasn’t so bad either - for example, an order would come from
the general staff, and you just had to accept it and develop a
plan for the operation itself, having intelligence, analytical
calculations, a large number of fighters to use in your
planning, relying on the skills of each individual fighter and
taking into account their strengths and weaknesses.

Now … I don’t even know what to do first. You need to do
everything, but there’s a lack of information. But the worst
thing is that even when I have access to sources of
information, I just don’t know what to ask about. And this
infuriates me a lot. And so, thinking about all this nonsense, I
made my way through the fortification of the bandits. When I
reached the stairs leading to the fourth floor, I received a
message from Carefire again. He informed me that they were
already on location and were breaking through to get upstairs,
and I specified the exact place where I was so that the fighters
wouldn’t accidentally shoot me. Having reported on my
location, I attached a map of the building, along with all my
notes. In a nutshell, I described the situation, recommending
that he assign a few fighters to the first floor, because a
detachment that had been sent to punish me was about to
return; I didn’t want the soldiers of the outpost to be under
threat from the back.

I threw off my backpack and put it in the corner, took out my
soldier’s ration and, using the backpack instead of a chair,
settled down for lunch. Well, maybe it was already dinner
time. But no: judging by the time on the interface – it was time
for brunch. So, crunching on a briquette, holding a new
weapon on my knees, I met the fighters sent by Carefire. First
a couple of them appeared, in light mobile armor. Judging by
their equipment, they performed the role of reconnaissance in
the detachment.
Briefly nodding, they moved on, sticking miniature beacons
on the walls along their route, tracing a conditionally safe
route that way. Five seconds after them, five fighters in heavy
infantry armor ran past me. Most of all, I was surprised that
the two leading fighters from this group of five didn’t have
any small arms. They carried large shields. One of them was
armed with a hammer with some kind of nozzle on the spine,
and the second one had a massive ax, along the edge of which,
arcs of electrical discharge were running. A few more were
armed with heavy machine guns, which, even with their
strengthened muscles, were dragged along with difficulty, and
the last fighter came in with an automatic rifle in his hands,
despite the fact that he carried a missile system with six
rockets on each shoulder.
I even stopped chewing my food, watching this surreal sight.
Well, there are two tanks, two diesel engines and a support
fighter, him being a self-propelled artillery unit, on a
pedestrian course. Then came different fighters, who combed
the back streets and carefully studied all the suspicious places.
Three fighters stopped near me, one of which, judging by the
color of his armor, was the commander.
- “How’re you doing?” - He asked.
- “Honestly? Pretty crappy!” - I did not fake anything and
told him the truth.
“All right, rest for now, and we’ll clean up this place.” At
that, I just nodded my head.

I really felt lousy. My body seemed to be ok, but my brain was
beginning to gradually fail, slowing down the various thought
processes. It seems, indeed, that the brain, at my age, starts
being unable to withstand the load imposed on it, despite my
excellent physical condition. Laying my head back and resting
it on the wall, I tried to relax. Having achieved a state of
denial, I simply closed my eyes and fell into the dark pit of
sleep. I’d had a very hectic two days. My mind was fit to
burst, without getting some time to rest.

CHAPTER XIV: My Property and New Ideas

I couldn’t understand what had prompted me to wake up, but
for some reason, I was wide awake after four hours and
nineteen minutes. My brain had to take almost two minutes in
order to understand how long I’d slept. I’m sitting now,
looking at the timer in my interface, and trying to understand
why I was calculating how long I’d slept. So, Volper, get your
shit together!
Shaking my head, I collected the remnants of my brain into
one somewhat functioning heap, completely banishing my
lethargy after sleeping. A huge number of people in multicolored overalls and various types of armor immediately
caught my eye. The fighting had obviously ended long ago,
and it was now time for the plundering. There were two weird
men in dark blue overalls unscrewing something from the
wall. And over there, two fighters in lightweight armored suits
were dragging a heavy box, joking and using foul language,
loudly discussing something.
- Where the hell are you putting that, damn it? Where,
motherfucker, should the seventh segment be on the diagram?
Turning my head in the direction of the sound, I could see an
old man in gray overalls with orange stripes along the sleeves.
Showing something to two subordinates, he was gesturing at a
picture on a tablet, and screaming at the top of his lungs, not
paying any attention to the people around him. The only oasis
of tranquility in this chaos was where I was right now. If it
weren’t for the two little munchkins, which were standing with
their backs to me, in heavy armor, and with weapons in their
hands, I would’ve most likely already been moved to another
place.

- Guys, can I belly up to the bar? - I drew attention to myself.
One of the fighters, turning to me and seeing that he hadn’t
misheard, briefly nodded his head, after which, turning away,
he again stood at rigid attention. I was getting ready to repeat
the question when a young guy in green overalls jumped out
from around the corner and, coming up to me, thrust a flask at
me with one hand, and with the second, a briquette of soldier’s
ration and sped off again. They have good service! But I can’t
stand this food; I’m so sick and tired of it. While I was trying
to get the food down, the Commander appeared and, sitting
down beside me, patiently waited for me to stop eating my
meal.
- They decided to plunder everything available? - I nodded in
the direction of the workers who’d removed the tiles on the
floor.
“We are installing a new energy line,” when he saw how my
eyebrows went up, he laughed and added: “When we cleared
all the floors, we invited various engineering services to
dismantle all the useful things. The techies came, looked
things over, and said: ‘The place is really good. As a shipment
base, it’s just perfect.’ So we decided to strengthen the
defenses of the base here, and to keep a detachment of fighters
in the garrison. And we will pay rent to you; the outpost can’t
afford to buy it back from you for the time being.”
After these news, my eyebrows went up almost to the top of
my head, and I quickly began to look through the interface.
Yeah, that’s the right line.
Property owned:

Private room with a replicator B - 3/27 (It is leased for
another 9 days 13 hours 27 minutes)

Description: A private room equipped with a replicator. It is
designed for relaxation and replication in calm
surroundings. It is the property of the Outpost Replication
Center No. 5-17-23.
The Den “Base of bandits” {Rename} (you own 73% of the
building)
Description: 52-story building, the lower floors of which
were, at one time, the home of a dangerous band of
criminals, led by a man named Alckor {Change description}.
I was shocked! Of course, I was glad to now own such a big
piece of real estate; but why did seventy-three percent belong
to me? I don’t get it. This question nagged at me and I decided
to ask Carefire, to which he gave me the smartest answer.
- “Because twenty-seven percent belongs to our outpost.”
Well, you certainly are Major Obvious – your reply is so
helpful. Or are you Captain Obvious? It doesn’t matter.
- That much I understand. What I can’t understand is why I got
such a large part? - “Oh, you mean that… Bah, who knows? The server itself
always determines how much and to whom should be given.”
- Wait, you mean to tell me that when new territory is cleared,
it passes into the hands of those who cleared it? - “Not entirely. There are a lot of nuances there,” when he saw
my eager look, he sighed heavily and began to clarify. “Look.
If you are in the service of one of the divisions, then the entire
cleared area goes into the possession of the unit or the larger
compound in which you are serving, giving you a tiny amount

of it. Got it?” I nodded slowly. “Damn it, how can I explain
this to you more clearly… Oh, I got it. Rafin, how much did
you get from the building?”
- “0,23%, but I took the money at once,” - said one of the
guards.
- “You see,” the commander continued. “And he was in the top
five. In total, the fighters got a little less than one percent, 0.5
percent for me, as commander, and the rest was transferred to
the balance of the outpost. And if our outpost had been started
by one of the corporations, then a maximum of five percent
would’ve been allocated to the balance of the outpost, the rest
would have gone to the corporation. Now it’s clear, I hope?”
- Yeah, only two more questions: I don’t understand how Rafin
took the money? And what do you mean by “the balance of
the outpost”? - “Each fighter, at the moment of receiving their part of the
territory, has a choice: to claim ownership rights, or to take
money, transferring their interest to the employer. The amount
is calculated by the Server, based on its data. The distribution
of the shares for this outpost was a unique case. When the
government announced a fifth-level restoration project,
various corporations opened up a lot of outposts. And only
seven outposts are under the direct jurisdiction of the Server.
Our outpost, the commander of which is me, has a full
management function, and all the employees are either hired
by me personally, or sent by corporations who rent premises
from me on the territory. But the Server can remove me from
the post at any time; that is what frightens me most.”
- So… are you a kind of manager, appointed directly by the
server? - “Well, it’s something like that… Everything is much more
complicated and intricate here. In a nutshell: as long as the
outpost develops and grows – I’m in charge of the post, and
when the growth of the outpost stops satisfying the Server
algorithm - I will immediately lose my position.

- That’s absurd, though! Why did you even agree to do this
job? - I really couldn’t understand why an experienced warrior
had decided to go into this trap voluntarily.
- “It’s a long story! Believe me, I had no choice,” Carefire
obviously didn’t want to share this bit of info with me. Well, I
won’t insist.
- Well, does that mean that there are now a lot of replicants
running around here, who own different territories? - “That, too, is not so simple. If you clear the territory at the
behest of the outpost, then you’re just paid the amount stated
in the contract, and that’s all. The server automatically credits
the ownership of the territory to the account of the one who
issued the task. Well, then it goes according to the system
mentioned before. As a result, in ninety-five percent of cases,
possession of a location falls into the hands of a corporation or
an outpost. Your case is so rare: you yourself found it, and
even independently cleared it. Okay, let’s talk later, at the
base.”
- One last question: why are you sharing this information with
me? - Without understanding the motives of the commander, I
couldn’t understand his frankness.
- “Well … how can I put this,” he began to hesitate a little. “I
think it’s no secret to you that no one loves your replicant
brethren. But you practically gave us an extremely important
location, with an energy generating power reactor, and a huge
amount of necessary equipment, and I just feel guilty, as if I’ve
done something wrong to you. I’m trying to compensate you,
at least with information, to try and help you out”. “My antigrav is waiting for you on the street, don’t worry, it has a
driver; you will be taken to the base. Tomorrow, at six in the
morning, your week of training starts.
After saying that, he left, and the guard followed him. That
was something to think about. The commander thinks he owes
me; there is a whole week on a special course in store for me.
My outpost is so unique. It seems that I will have to abandon
my plans to leave the outpost and go to a larger one. My gut

tells me that there is uncharted territory here. And if you think
about it, most of the fighters here obviously served with
Carefire before, which means they aren’t as simple as they
want to appear. Collecting my things and leaving the building,
I saw the waiting anti-grav.
The driver, who was dozing at the control panel, immediately
shot up as I approached, but, upon recognizing me, invited me
into the car with a nod. While I was driving to the base, I was
pondering a lot on what I wanted to achieve in this game, but I
wasn’t able to find a proper target for myself, beyond living
and having fun, if I can. Ahead of me, a week of enhanced
training loomed, there would be time to find a target yet. By
the by, since I’m stuck in this anti-grav anyway, I can at least
try to get an answer to one question that keeps picking at me.
-

“Can you explain to me,” – I addressed the driver, “why do you care about children so much? I understand
that they are rare, and so on and so forth, but in most
cases, the children are looked after by their parents. And
yet, you crowd around them and give them so much love
and affection.

“Bah, this is something everybody knows … well, okay, you
probably didn’t have such a thing before replication, I keep
forgetting that replicants aren’t good at some elementary
things. So, listen, I’ll explain on the way. On the one hand, at
the core of the problem is a very low birth rate, on the other
hand, a limited number of replications for each person. Only at
the fifth level are there replications without limitation, in the
event of death. As a result, we get a slow decrease in the
number of people - this is all one problem, but another
problem is with the children. They are born thanks to a colony
of piconites from their parents…”
- Sorry to interrupt, but what are piconites? -

- Well, it’s all about the size … they seem to be ordered from
biggest to smallest: milli-, micro-, nano-, pico-. So … what
was I talking about … Yeah, there are piconites in each of us
[Author’s note: Piconites are much smaller than the nanites
readers of science fiction are used to. If the “nano-” prefix
denotes a factor of 10−9 or 0.000000001, then the “Pico”
prefix denotes one trillionth, a factor of
10−12 (0.000000000001). After pico- come femto- and atto-].
So, there are tiny machines that monitor our body and form a
neural network. Children have these piconites from birth. But
for some reason, the cast for replication appears only in the
period from ten to fifteen years and begins to be updated
regularly. Here, strictly speaking, is the essence of the
problem, so a bill was passed long ago, making it so that
children, before receiving a replication cast, should be under
heavy security and provided with the best medical support.
Oh, here we are. Come on, get out, I still have to go back for
our commander.
Jumping out of the anti-grav near the sluice gates, I was glad
that they had stopped inside the outpost, and not outside. Well,
I’d also raised my reputation a bit with the quest, and found
answers at least to some of my questions. I’d seen NPCs
annoyed by players pestering them with questions at every
turn. That’s why I had to look for alternative sources of
information. But the problem of the children is stuck in my
head. I remembered Ellie in particular, who seemed like she’d
have no opportunity to replicate, due to her young age.
Now it’s clear why a high-level mutant came for her. But
there’s another contradiction in this: if there is only one
Server, then it keeps the copies of both ordinary people and
mutants, but at the same time, it doesn’t erase them, but
highlights each as opponents. In general, without an expert,
you can’t figure it out. I didn’t bother. First of all, I went to the

research center. I really wanted to get an opportunity to use
those ancient kits. The outpost was growing by leaps and
bounds, by the way.
It seemed like they’d only recently launched the game, when
this had been a humble starting area; but now, it has increased
in size threefold, a bunch of new buildings have recently
appeared, and even some buildings that had been partially
destroyed were also being repaired. And there is going to be a
new high-rise building soon - judging by the crane, a hundred
meters high, which was standing right next to the construction
site.
In contrast, on the other side, they’d installed barricades
around a house and had begun to dismantle it, evidently
considering it unsuitable for use. There’s a big construction
site and continuous chaos. Everyone is running; everyone has
their own worries and cares. The only thing that makes me
happy is that this chaos is at least a little ordered, there is a
strict breakdown into streets, even though there are high-rise
buildings and ruins on the same streets, standing side by side,
and in some places, there are even new one-story buildings.
“Fucking NPCs, they’re fucking with me: they keep telling
me to repair there, put something in another place, etc.” - the
player passing by kept muttering quietly.

Ordinarily, I might not have paid any attention to his
muttering, but these words helped identify him as a player. But
the most interesting thing was his appearance. Firstly, I didn’t
notice any weapons on him at all. Secondly, on his chest, in a
criss-cross manner, he had two large skeins of different wires
hanging down to his belt, a bunch of tools, and a yellow
construction hat on his head, remotely resembling a helmet,
only slightly smaller. It looked like it could only offer

someone protection if they wore it as they ran into a wall with
the top of their head leading the charge.
This also had zero functional and practical uses: the head is
exposed, the forehead isn’t protected, and the helmet itself is
just above his head. It seems that, inside it, there’s some kind
of construction that reduces the damage upon impact. In
general, I would never have taken such a helmet into battle - it
would be better to just put on a hood, although it wouldn’t be a
good mask. The player had already moved a good distance
away from me, but I was still thinking about this and watching
him. Suddenly, he stopped at the corner of the street, bent
down, opened the hatchway and, without hesitation, went into
it. It seems that the players here aren’t only fighting, but also
working as technicians. As they say- to each his own! Having
walked about fifty meters, I finally found myself in the lobby
of the research center.
- “Good afternoon, Miss Beautiful Lady!” - I turned to the girl
at the counter. – “I need to meet with Gerion Carso.”
- “Sorry, but he doesn’t work here anymore,” she said.
- Um … and could you tell me where he is now?
“- Sorry, but I don’t have that information,” she said that
thoughtfully, with an apologetic and tender smile.
I stepped a little to the side, sat down on the chair intended for
those who were waiting, and looked through the interface. So,
let’s read the messages … And how can I write someone a
letter? Yeah, there’s a big plus in a circle down here. I
mentally clicked this symbol, and a blank template appeared
before my eyes, to help me send the letter. I moved the letter
template to the left part of the window, and in the right corner,
I opened the second window and looked through the quests
section. I carefully copied Carso’s full name and ID number in
the needed message fields. Damn, answering letters is much

easier, everything is automatically attached there. Okay, I’m
ready, now for the letter itself. But I don’t even know what to
write, I have to think hard. Damn it, I’m being so childish in
this game. In the real world, I think much faster and more
efficiently. Five minutes of brainstorming later, I finally wrote
him this text:
Recipient: Gerion Carso
Recipient Neural Interface Identification Number: AT
7435844891
Text of the letter:
I hope you haven’t forgotten our agreement? I am waiting
for an explanation for why you aren’t here; otherwise, I’ll go
to the Server with a complaint that you haven’t fulfilled your
part of the contract.
Two lines of text, and I’d been working on them for five
minutes, rewriting the text fifteen times. After rereading the
text time and time again, I made sure that I was satisfied with
everything, and pressed the send button. After that, I almost
started shouting obscenities because a mocking text from the
system appeared in front of my eyes.
Attention! Gerion Carso is in custody. Communication with
the outside world is blocked while the investigation is in
progress. Gerion Carso cannot receive and reply to any
letters. Your letter cannot be delivered. If you need to contact
Gerion Carso, contact the administration of the outpost
block No. 5-17-23.
Well, bad news! This has happened at a bad time! And the
most disgusting thing is that I, most likely, have only myself to
blame for the fact that he’s in custody. I suspect that he either
spilled the beans to Alckor, or he had simply been involved in

some kind of criminal activity. Well, there was another option:
I found the message from Carefire and then replied to it
quickly with a question about when he would arrive. I wrote
that I had something serious to discuss with him. While
waiting for his reply, I left the center and headed to the store anyway, I need to buy more items, and I should definitely buy
cartridges, and, if possible, buy something extremely cool in a
large caliber, in order not to change my weapons like
underwear. Leaving the store, I received a response from the
commander.
Sender: Alexander Carefire
Text of the letter:
I will come back in the morning, if it’s something urgent,
please contact Captain Ignatenko, he is my temporary
replacement. If you can wait, we’ll talk when I come back; I
also have some issues to discuss with you, and at the same
time, we can agree on a lease agreement.
P.S. Please change the name of the building, half of the squad
walks in and laughs at us, saying that we are now gangsters
since we have occupied the “Bandits’ Base”.
P.S.S. You can change the name in the property management
panel. You are the only one who can rename it since you are
the owner of most of this property.
Here’s how I feel about NPCs after these kinds of messages:
they aren’t just a set of numbers! It feels like an artificial
intelligence is inside each and every NPC and imitating a
living being fully. If we consider the technological capabilities
of our time, the developers, theoretically, can do this.
However, the amount of funding needed to create this complex
world of artificial intelligence would amount to the cost of an
average-sized planet suitable for colonization.

Although, for the past twenty years, I haven’t followed the
developments made by our great minds: maybe they’ve
already made a breakthrough in the technology necessary for
creating artificial intelligence. Well, this is all in the real
world, I shouldn’t really care. I will live here for the rest of my
life. Upon entering the store, I immediately went to the armory
showcase. On a huge wall, illuminated by LED lights, there
were about fifty small arms, but for some reason, only
automatic shotguns.
“My dear friend,” I called to the seller, and when he came
over to me, I began to pester him with my questions, just like
any other customer would. “Listen, I need a great weapon, do
you have something good enough for me?”
The shopkeeper sighed heavily, and then ran his forefinger and
his thumb over his forehead and stopped at the bridge of his
nose. The seller, it turns out, was fucked up today. Imagine it:
try to work for a day, serving idiots like me. It was a gesture
very typical of an exhausted person, who had already been
bothered a lot, and is now trying to collect the remains of his
thoughts and assist another nerd who doesn’t know what he
wants. The funniest thing in this situation was that I am well
aware of different kinds of weapons, but I’m not at all familiar
with the local names and classifications. And the terms are
quite different indeed.
“Let’s first clarify something,” the salesman started patiently.
“Your targets, objectives, wishes… from which price segment
shall we select weapons for you?”
- Listen, let’s make things crystal clear. I will now voice my
wishes with the terms that I know, and if something isn’t clear,
or if I say something wrong, then you can ask me again. I just
don’t really know the terminology. OK? - “That would be great!” The seller replied happily. “Now,
one second, I will turn on my voice recorder, it will convert

your words into text, and then we will select the right model of
weapon for you.”
After that, he put some kind of device in front of me, right on
the stand, and, clicking on the button below, he waved his
hand at me, signaling that I should start talking. Well, I
understood what to do without a moment’s delay.
“Okay. I need a compact, large-caliber submachine gun;
something to use against heavy infantry armor. Well, if there is
something even more powerful, I will gladly buy it; preferably,
it will have several modes of fire. Ideally, there should be at
least three modes of fire: single, short bursts of three rounds
each and automatic fire. All this should be made on a bull pup
basis, when the whole mechanism is put into the butt, which
reduces the overall dimensions of the weapon and increases its
stability during the fire. The weapons should support magazine
cases with miniaturization and the function of equipping
various types of ammunition, well, at least three types of
ammunition. Ideally, the more the better… Storage capacity
should be the maximum available.
And as for the weapons: a recoil damper and an ammunition
indicator should be installed into the butt. Also, in the lower
part of the trunk, I’ll need a fire transfer handle, with the
possibility of opening it in two halves for use as a bipod. It
would be great if there is a mechanism inside, with a
telescopic retractable support stand on a spring motion. On the
left side, I need a paired tactical flashlight with a glow in the
usual range and in the infrared one, and a set of nozzles for
changing the color of the beam needed. Yes, I completely
forgot, if the flashlight has an ultraviolet mode as well, then I
would gladly have it. On the right side, a tactical laser
targeting complex is needed, also with the aim of it working in
the infrared range and with ultraviolet markings. On the top of
the submachine gun, attachments are needed to enable a quick
removal of sights. The kit will need a collimator sight with the

ability to switch the brand and with the controls of its
brightness and width. In the minimum mode, the marker
should be no more than one eighth of the angular minute, and
a magnifier for a collimator sight with variable magnification
from two and half times to twelve, plus the night head and
thermal head. All sights should be mutually supported, and the
input lenses are to be no less than thirty-five millimeters,
ideally - fifty.
A factory rifle table should be included, with amendments to
the bullet derivation at different distances and with
information on the dispersion of the bullets for each type of
ammunition supported.
While I spoke, the seller’s face kept changing in front of my
eyes. At first, his eyes began to widen until they began to
encroach on his forehead, then his face came to life and lit up,
almost with joy. And in the middle of my monologue, he
frowned a little and started flipping through something on his
tablet. Judging by the rare nods and the speed at which his
fingers were flickering, he seemed to have been looking up
some terms. When I finished, he seemed concentrated and
confident.
- You know, before today, I hadn’t come across a person who
knew what they wanted, with such a detailed and accurate
description of the necessary weapons. The main thing is that
we have everything that you want. There’s just the question of
the price - three hundred thousand, - and he froze in
anticipation of a reaction to the amount he’d asked for.
- “I have enough money! - I replied, quickly checking my
account. It was close to that sum, but I had enough money to
spend, even enough for the spare cartridges. – “Please bring
me my order; I want to check how good it is.”

The seller was radiant with happiness and raced with the speed
of an anti-grav into the back room.

CHAPTER XV: Sometimes

I’m an Idiot, Sometimes I’m a

Millionaire
The seller returned, carrying a fairly large, silver case with
grooved sides. Putting it onto the counter and opening the lid,
the guy began to get out the plastic trays filled with porous
material, which protect the load from shattering. In this
material, in a specially carved recess, there were various spare
parts and devices. In total, there were six such trays; they
corresponded to the case in length and width; they were only
thinner and folded in layers. Also, the seller took out fifteen
packs of cartridges consisting of three types of different
lengths from the counter, and each of these types of
ammunition had five different markings.
- Here you are, this is your order. Although it’s a compilation
of ammunition, we sell it at a big discount, so that it doesn’t
take up any space.
- Why? - I asked, looking at the contents of the trays.
- There were only three sets of them. They don’t produce such
sets anymore, so there’s a problem with finding spare parts for
them. They were delivered to us by chance - the recent convoy
was shipped with extra goods, they didn’t even take money for
them, and after that, it was sent to the balance of our outpost,
and then the Server quoted the price for the set. A couple of
years ago I saw such a set, and the price for it had been almost
half a million then. – I almost choked hearing his words, and
thought how I had to get all of them, but I didn’t have enough
money for all three of the sets.
- What’s it for?
- This is a set designed for assaulting fortified areas. It has
three interchangeable trunks of various lengths: from forty
centimeters to eighty centimeters. The separate part of the
chamber and the barrel will allow you, when you change the

chamber, to use three types of cartridges: pistol, automatic,
and rifle. Accordingly, it has three bolt elements for each
cartridge. Included are the magazine cases with a
miniaturization system that supports five types of cartridges:
the normal mode - for the destruction of infantry formations;
armor-piercing-expansive - for the destruction of heavily
armored infantry; armor-piercing incendiary - for the
destruction of droids or other robotic equipment; armorpiercing-cumulative - a plasma core enveloped in energy to
combat armored vehicles. Well, there is another one as well,
with a cryogenic core, for overloading energy shields. In the
variant for the pistol cartridge, it supports nine hundred rounds
of each type; in the automatic version - three hundred rounds
of ammunition, and in the rifle one - one hundred rounds.
There are still installable ones…
The seller was talking so fast that I could barely memorize all
that was being said. Look at how he sells this stuff: he’s
clearly a fan of this thing.
- Ok, let’s stop for now. Don’t speak so fast, - I interrupted
him. - Let’s talk about the attributes more and I will see it for
myself.
Assault hybrid pistol-rifle complex of automatic fire “Storm”
Type: rifled submachine gun / rifled automatic rifle / rifled
rifle
Ammunition: 9.8x38 / 9.8x47 / 9.8x83
Range: 300/800/1,600 meters
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 1,100/500/60
Shooting modes: single, three rounds, five rounds, automatic
Condition: 100%
Weight: 2.2 / 2.8 / 3.2 kg

Limit:
Level 70
Skill with firearms-machine guns - 90%
Skill with firearms - 90%
Mastery of rifles - 90%
Threaded cartridge “9.8x38” UWB
Kinetic damage: 120-147
Penetrating damage: 76-93
Flight speed: 620-700 m / s
Condition: 100%
Cartridge weight: 7.6 g
Limit:
50 utility level

Fuck! I am now also a fan of this Storm, only problem is, I
can’t use it to its fullest extent because of the restrictions. I
didn’t even take a look at the other parts, so as not to get even
sadder.
- The restrictions are tough! Is there any chance to bypass
them? - I asked the seller, and he immediately became sad as
well.
- “No, the Server simply will not let you take it into your
hands, through the piconites in your body. Well, in general,
you can carry it, but you will just lift it to your shoulder, your
fingers will unbend, and you will simply drop it to the floor.
So, you won’t be buying it, will you?

With regret, I shook my head and asked him to show me what
he had for my level. I rejected a dozen options suggested by
him - either they were worse than my Viro, or the same thing,
only the style being different. One had a better rate of fire, but
compared to mine, it had a much lower accuracy; the other, on
the contrary, had better accuracy and the same rate of fire, but
was one and a half times heavier than mine. As a result, I said
goodbye to the seller and went to my room. Better for me to
upgrade my skills to the maximum in a week, and then come
back and buy the desired thing.
After a good night’s sleep – necessary for me to recharge my
batteries – I immediately went to the administrative building to
meet with Carefire, for whom I had a number of questions. At
the entrance, I was informed that the commander was waiting
for me in his office, where I was immediately escorted to. But
when I reached his office, I had to wait for another five
minutes, until his current meeting was over. And when about a
dozen different people left Carefire’s office, I finally got
access to it.
- Hi! Come in and sit down, - he said to me, offering me a seat
on a chair near the table. When I sat, he asked. - Who will
start? - “Let it be you. I’m visiting you, and not vice versa.”
- Well, let’s clarify everything at the start. Are you ready to let
us lease your building? Because yesterday, while everyone
was in a hurry, my techies finished equipping our part of the
property allocated by the Server, and now they are waiting for
my order. - “I would gladly sell it completely. I don’t need any real estate
at the moment.”
- I cannot buy it for now; I have already told you that the
outpost is now broke. Not in the literal sense of the word, just
that the entire budget is already allocated for the upcoming
week. I have only myself to blame – I got such a generous gift

in the form of the dungeon, where the money went, and then
this outpost came along, too.
- “You’ve said it twice now, that those catacombs are a real
gift, but I can’t understand what’s so special about them.”
- Are you kidding? - He stared at me in surprise. – Don’t say
that you really don’t know what you gave us?
- “Um … no!”
Carefire laughed for about two minutes, and in the end, he
even buried his forehead under his hands, put them on the
table and began to make incomprehensible gurgling sounds.
All that time, I watched him, very surprised, more precisely,
already understanding that I’d screwed up. And I even
understood that I had screwed up with those technical tunnels,
I even realized that, most likely, the essence of it was the
equipment that was in the rat uterus, but I couldn’t understand
why the hardware was so important. Being reassured, he lifted
his head and, wiping away the tears that formed as he’d
laughed so uncontrollably, he looked at my face, which was
expressing one large question mark with all the facial
expressions available to it, and began to giggle again.
“It’s good that your spirits are high again, but let’s get straight
to the point,” I interrupted him.
- Oh … Now … Just a minute … - taking three deep breaths
and slowly exhaling, he calmed down. - Sorry, just look at the
situation from my point of view. From the beginning,
replicants have proven to not be the best fighters. They are
greedy, arrogant; moreover, they think that everyone here is
obliged to help them. There were even some types who
insisted that we weren’t real. Simply put, we formed
completely negative impressions interacting with your
brethren, and here you appear, almost giving away a large
piece of technical tunnels, in which, in addition to a water
treatment system, is also an energy reactor, designed to serve
the whole area. I have already thought about it for a long time,

trying to find the reason behind your actions, I have two dozen
analysts trying to figure out your targets, and then, it turns out,
that you simply hadn’t known what you were giving us.
Looking at the situation from such a point of view, I admitted
that I was an idiot, and that if I had been the commander, I
would’ve been lying on the floor, in a fit of laughter, mocking
a man as dumb as me.
- I have only one question. Don’t think I plan to be malicious; I
am not going to complain. It’s my fault; henceforth I will think
twice about everything. So, how much had it all been worth?
- Well … twenty million – that is how much you gave to the
outpost. This is just a rough figure. I was sitting, looking at him and pondering. If I bang my head
against the wall - after all the ruckus, I will still respawn after
twelve hours. If I hit the commander with something heavy –
I’ll stain and ruin my reputation, I am not going to do that.
Okay, I can’t get back what has been lost; I will have to be
smarter from now on.
- “Why are you talking to me about the real value of that place
anyway?”
- Do you really want to know? Honestly? It was interesting to
see your reaction, and information about the estimated value
can be obtained from the Server. True, this price doesn’t
always correspond to the sale price, or rather, it rarely does,
but it helps to somewhat understand the pricing policy. - “Wait, I didn’t have cost information anywhere,” I was
surprised.
- And here comes the fun of our Server. The Server has almost
all the data and everything, but some algorithms prohibit it
from freely issuing information, and until the person knows

about a certain function, the Server will not display this info in
the neural interface. For example, go to the property section
now, and in the detailed information about it, you should have
a line with an estimated value. Following his advice, I immediately went into the interface
and to the property tab. There was an additional line in the
description of the building “Base of the bandits”. Well, that
wasn’t so bad, my spirits were already beginning to gradually
lift again.
The Den “Base of bandits” {Rename} (you own 73% of the
building)
Description: 52-story building, the lower floors of which at
one time were being used as a base by bandits under the
leadership of a man named Alckor {Edit Description}
The estimated value of your ownership share of the property:
8,999,044 credits

- “Judging by the surprise I can see in your wide open eyes,
you looked at the value of your part,” to this, I just nodded in
response. – “Then let’s move on to the issue of renting. As I
said, I can’t buy it now. Therefore, I suggest you rent out your
part to us for three hundred thousand a month.”
- “Let’s do it another way,” I began, thinking about the fact
that I didn’t have much time left. Now, if I had planned to play
a dozen or so years, then I would have agreed to rent it out to
him. - How much can you pay me per day?”
- “Next week, I will be able to pay six thousand. And then, we
shall see.”
- “I suggest you pay the amount you can, daily, but no less
than two hundred and fifty thousand. Wait, listen,” – I stopped
him, seeing that he was opening his mouth, trying to object to

something. – “You will pay me each day, until you pay a total
of nine million. As soon as the total amount reaches nine
million, the building completely becomes the property of the
outpost.”
Carefire became thoughtful after hearing my lucrative offer.
Think hard, play hard. He’d already started drumming his
fingers on the table. On the one hand, when renting, he has
less expenses per month, on the other hand, he can buy this
property - and then do whatever he wants to the building, and
there won’t be a strange replicant who can suddenly demand to
be given back his part of the building.
- OK, I agree. Server, confirm the contract!
Having quickly run through the text of the agreement that had
been presented to me, we confirmed it at the same time. After
that, Carefire immediately transferred my first payment of two
hundred and fifty thousand. And in the interface, near the
ownership percentages, the text “Frozen under the contract …”
appeared, and then the link to the contract itself.
“So, having dealt with this matter,” - continued Carefire. –
“We can go and see the trophies. Look through the file, there is
a complete list of what we took there.” - I immediately opened
the list that was sent to me.
Grooved Cartridge 4.2х8 – 89,654 pieces
Grooved Cartridge 4.2х12 – 76,486 pieces
Grooved Cartridge 4.2х15 – 92,758 pieces
Grooved Cartridge 4.2х17 – 123,458 pieces
Grooved Cartridge 4.2х21 – 11,874 pieces
…

…
…
Grenade “OH-3” – 1,234 pcs
Grenade “OH-5” - 875 pieces
Grenade “OH-7” - 112 pieces
Grenade “OH-10” – 8,462 pcs
Grenade “OH-15” - 985 pcs
…
…
…
Total items: 64,758
Total amount of server’s evaluation: 45,842,654 credits
Quickly scrolling through the list, I kept my eyes on several
positions and minimized it. I will sort it out in a tranquil and
peaceful place and then decide what to do with this treasure. I
told the commander about my decision.
- Ok, but one thing: please be quick! In two weeks, I have a
planned delivery, and the space in the warehouses will need to
be freed up.
- Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out by then!
- Then, shall we move on to the next point?
With these words, he got up and walked over to the safe. He
got a black backpack out, which was about thirty liters in
volume, but made not from cloth, but from something similar
to polymer plastic. Approaching me, Carefire handed it to me
and proudly said:

- It’s for you, enjoy! It served me for more than a dozen years.
This is my way of expressing my gratitude.
Taking the backpack, I realized that it doesn’t bend at all, only
the shoulder straps are mobile. Having opened its information,
I almost jumped up like a child, seeing such a precious gift.
Shockproof backpack “Gambit”
Main slots: 1 large one
Volume: 30 liters
Loading capacity: 240 kg
Installed modules:
- Miniaturization system: they reduce the size of items by
three times
- Gravity compensators: they reduce weight by 30%
Condition: 61%
Weight: 1.2 kg
- “Well, it’s really the coolest present I’ve ever received,” I
muttered thoughtfully.
- You deserve it! What remained in that base, where you went
to, impressed not only my crew, but me personally as well, a
lot. Also, we captured the whole gang, each and every member,
and as they replicate, we will escort them to the nearest APS
unit.
- Where to?
- The Alfarome Peace Squad, a law enforcement agency with
the task of pursuing, capturing and bringing various criminals
to court. So, these are all the points which I’d wanted to
discuss with you. Although there is one more; but let’s talk
about it at the end of our conversation. Now come on, ask your
questions. Judging by your letter, you have quite a few. -

- “Yes, I do; there are a couple of question that need to be
answered,” I agreed. “I’m interested in what happened to
Gerion Carso. I have a contract with him that he hasn’t settled
yet.”
- Hmm … If he entered into a contract with you as an
intermediary, on behalf of the service of a research institute,
then simply present them with a copy of the contract, and then
they will pay you. - “That’s the problem, the contract was with him personally,
and it was about the research into a set of ancient equipment.”
- Then you have a problem. Gerion Carso was detained on
suspicion of aiding persons dangerous to society and is
already on his way to the investigative isolator of the APS
branch at the sixth level. - “There is no way of getting what is due to me, according to
the contract?”
- Well, if your contract has time limits or other force majeure
terms, then you will receive compensation from the Server, and
Carso will receive a serious penalty for non-fulfillment of the
contract on his part. - “Looks like I’ve been left empty-handed again,” after
hearing that, I sent a copy of my contract with Carso to
Carefire. The commander examined the contract for a couple
of minutes, after which he delivered his verdict.
- It’s not all that simple. If you don’t mind, I will transfer a
copy of the contract to an APS branch, and there they will look
into the matter in more detail. If Carso has already conducted
the research, then they will make him transfer the information.
And, well, if he’d not had the time to do it, then yes, you’ve
been left empty-handed. Something else? - “Yes, there is another question that interests me. I noticed
that I can perform most of what I knew before, and after the
first application of it in battle, the Server gives me the skills
associated with them. And some of the skills somehow improve
too fast, in my opinion. Of course, I knew how to do all of this

before, but after replication, all the skills were at zero level,
which means I shouldn’t be able to do that. To cut a long story
short, I’m confused.”
- Well, everything is simple. The neuro interface shows the
current state of your body, and not your knowledge. When you
perform an action, the Server assesses your level of knowledge
and skills for this action, and if it considers it sufficient, it
gives you a skill, like a sign of what you own and to what
extent. Accordingly, at first, all skills grow at a tremendous
rate. It would be more correct to explain … Here, I remember
the explanation. The body accumulates muscle memory and
ligaments of reflexes. When your muscle memory catches up
with your level of knowledge from your past life, you will
immediately see the speed of your skill development slow
down. Therefore, I recommend you restore your muscle
memory as much as possible this week, at our range. To put it
simply, work on your skills at our firing range. This way you
will restore all your skills, approximately to the same levels
that you had before the freeze of your cast. This also applies to
abilities and expertise; try to restore them to the maximum. - “Wait. You mean my skills?”
- No, what did you say? … Yes, it can’t be … What, seriously?
- Carefire leaned back in his chair and grabbed his head with
both hands. –Volper, - he drawled, without changing his
posture. – Tell me, please, how many skills do you have? - The
commander’s voice changed abruptly, becoming somehow
ingratiating.
“Twenty or so,” I didn’t see the point of hiding this
information, but Carefire’s eyes got seriously round in
response.
- And how many of them require confirmation from an expert?
“Well, about fifteen,” after these words, the commander was
really surprised.
- Now confirm my worst fears, tell me, how many skills do you
have?

- “Damn it, I’m telling you again about my abilities! I have no
such item at all.”
Carefire jumped out of his chair and began walking around the
room, muttering something under his breath. Then he started
up and turned to me.
- Volper, you’re just one of a kind. All the other replicants, not
only on the first day, but in the first few hours, had already
unlocked at least one skill, but judging by the level of skill
development, most likely from the first wave of replication.
But at the same time, you still haven’t received a single skill.
Explain how that’s possible. Have you never performed the
same action at least five or seven times in a row?
- “No, I’ve been taught all my life that if you want to survive,
never repeat yourself, so I tried to act as unpredictably as
possible, especially considering that from the moment of the
first replication, I’d constantly come across opponents much
stronger than me.”
- But after all … how is it … well, really … you, this is the
most … - it seems that I’ve caused cognitive dissonance in his
brain, and he cannot even find a word to describe his thoughts.
– Well, how is it possible to do anything, without skills? Even
the usual skill “Aimed Shot” makes it possible to make an
ultra-precise shot! After all, the neural interface calculates
your heartbeat, breath, a bunch of different variables and
displays the point of contact before your eyes. Yes, preparation
takes two seconds, and rolls back seven. But, after the first
shot, it allows you to hit the target accurately. - “Yes, I figure it all out in my mind, without your neural
interface,” after my words, the commander froze in one place,
like a statue.
- It cannot be true! - He said that after being frozen for a
moment.

- “So for instance, let’s take shooting. Depending on the
distance, you take the amendment to the derivation and lead
the barrel to the left according to the bend of the trajectory. If
you take into consideration that you have a cartridge with the
mass of a bullet weighing around eleven grams, with an initial
speed of about eight hundred meters, then at three hundred
meters, the bullet deflection to the right will be approximately
two centimeters. But if the sight is aimed at three hundred
meters, and you need to shoot at one hundred, then you need
to aim fourteen centimeters lower. This is just one example of
my way of thinking. And so on. If I don’t even know the tabular
conditions for a specific bullet, when shooting, it takes me
about five to seven hours to get used to everything enough to
know what to do by heart.
- I’m shocked! - Carefire really looked shocked, too. -The
server confirmed the data you gave me. But where did you get
the data from? - “Alex, please, you should answer my question first. How
long do you teach rifle discipline?”
- It varies, from a few of weeks to a couple of months, until you
get the basic set of skills. And then for another month, you
work out the appropriate use of the skills in different
situations. But why? – Upon hearing his words, it was my turn
to look at him with round eyes.
- “How to explain it to you correctly…” – I began. “I studied
shooting disciplines interspersed with different tactics and
rules of warfare for thirteen years. At eight years old, I was
sent to a military gymnasium, at fourteen, I entered a military
school, and at eighteen, I entered a military academy. And the
old warriors taught me in the way they’d been taught. They
didn’t need any neural interfaces in their eyes, they hadn’t
even heard about the tactical helmets and showed great
shooting performance regardless. I agree: it’s much more
convenient when the Server calculates all the variables for
you, but I was taught the old ways.”

- F***, what archives did they get your cast from? Given this
information, I simply must offer you a chance to enlist with
our outpost!
- “No, thanks, I’ve already served my tour of duty.”
- Volper, I will give you command of a special platoon! repeated Carefire.
- “Even if you offered me a division of rapid response troops, I
wouldn’t agree. I don’t want to send more boys to the
slaughter, I’ve had enough! I now have a new life, and I am
responsible only for myself and live my life for my own
pleasure.” After saying that, I got up and headed for the exit,
realizing that if I didn’t leave now, the commander would
continue trying to persuade me to join his ranks.
- Volper, which grade title did you finish your military career
with? – The question was addressed to me when I was near the
door and already taking the handle. - Colonel? - “You haven’t guessed it, major; just remember our first
meeting and analyze everything well.”
And after that conversation, I went out of the building and
headed to the basement, more precisely, to the firing range,
where I was planning to stay for the next week. When I
approached the basement doors, I received a system message.
Attention! Your reputation with Alexander Carefire has
changed. The current status is “Respect”
I just grinned. Old training methods aren’t always bad; they
just need to be adjusted to modern circumstances, so I can also
get skills at the range. Since I’m not a gamer, I’m missing
many things that are obvious to them, but unlike them, I’m
always ready to learn and always open to new knowledge.
With these thoughts, I opened the door to the range.

CHAPTER XVI: Training

grounds

Hiding around the corner, I dump the magazine case I used up
into a small bag on my belt. I don’t have time to put in a fresh
one, as another opponent jumps out from around the corner. I
bat his gun away, kicking him and using his disorientation to
pin his gun underfoot. I then make sure to bring my own
submachine gun up and fire it into his head, three times.
Having finished off that opponent, I immediately remove my
foot from the gun so as not to lose my balance, and after a
moment, the corpse crumbles into tiny nanite pieces.
- “Not bad, but you have forty seconds and five targets left,”
says a voice coming from the loudspeaker on the ceiling.
- I know! Stop distracting me! - I snarled and popped out
again.
Sooner or later, I will be pissed with that idiot, and I will send
him to respawn, even if I end up having problems with
Carefire over it. It’s just that this moron makes me really
angry! He’s been mocking me and annoying me with his
sarcasm for three days now. But I haven’t even done anything
to him; he was like that on the first day: the moment I entered
the base, he immediately started hurling abuse at me and
giving me shit. I’m trying to remember what he said: “You are
nobody, a no-name! I don’t understand how such a worthless
mule was allowed to enter MY training grounds …” And he
continued on like that. For the first fifteen minutes, he didn’t
even let me say a word, generously bestowing me with various
unkind “epithets”. I swear to god, I barely kept myself from
punching him in the face! But there’s nothing to be done about
it; you have to endure, because he’s in charge of the proving
grounds. And without him, I can’t even get a test battle.

I was shaken out of my musing by something odd about the
farthest corner of the next building, highlighted by my neural
interface. It’s great that I was able to get the “Scan the
surroundings” skill yesterday, which works even in passive
mode. This skill has just helped me for the third time in a row.
I start to go faster, and at a distance of five meters, the
interface begins to outline the enemy’s contour around the
corner, with numbers inside the contour. These numbers show
the chance of evaluating everything correctly, which is based
on my five senses and the level of my perception. Given the
data, the interface shows a probability of 78% that the
opponent is just around the corner, and also in the same
position as I the image being outlined for me.
I activate the skill “Knee Glide ” and in just a split second,
using my eyes, I indicate the starting point and the direction I
want to go. After that, my body starts moving, bending my
legs the right way and slides me on my knees, under the aim of
the enemy, who I figure had been expecting an upright foe. I’d
had a lot of disorientation issues the first several times the
neural interface took control of my body, but after a little
practice, I got used to it. However, I should keep practicing.
As I’d been explained, the constant use of the skill increases
the level of mastery over time, which opens up new
opportunities, a greater range of use, reduces the interval
between uses and a lot of other options.
Without stopping my glide, I cut the fighter around the corner
and, going a little further, notice two more. Rolling to the side,
I’m now in the prone position, shooting these two as well.
Thirteen seconds left, and I’m again rushing through the
labyrinth of corridors. Here, the last two opponents jump out
in front of me and unleash an obscene hail of bullets. Fuck
you; I roll away, using “Triple Strike” as I do so. Here’s a
present for you, delivered directly to the head. Of course, there
are two targets, not three, but this doesn’t interfere with the
neural interface, which once again takes over, aiming the

weapon strictly at the enemy’s head and sending them into
oblivion with two shots.
The loud beep signaled the end of the qualification test for a
second-class specialist in the category of submachine gun
firearms. All the walls around me went down sharply, now in
the floor, and I remained standing in the middle of a huge,
empty hall, in standard silver pants and a T-shirt of the same
color. After all, the nanites, which made up all my equipment,
had fallen apart and returned to their storage spaces, located
under the grounds. Barefoot on the cold floor, I reached the
technical door and left the grounds, but instead of going to the
locker room, I immediately turned into the control room.

- “Mr. Sanych, holy shit! What the fuck? Why have you added
antipersonnel mines? Do you think I’m good at demining?” – I
started in on him as soon as I came in.
- You shouldn’t relax even for a second, you sucker! You’re
not even getting the worst of it! The others don’t bitch when I
train them! If I’m wasting my time on some replicant, useless
piece of shit, at least I’m doing it properly!” - He snarled,
without even turning to me.
I also wanted to yell at him, but I closed my already opened
mouth. Like it or not, the old dude is right. Yeah, he knows
better; he’s already far from his first dozen years of chasing
young, inexperienced soldiers around on his training grounds.
As the commander has told me, Sanych is living out his last
replication, and no one knows his real age, but he has
obviously already lived for several centuries, if you count all
the replications that have passed.
“Okay, Sanych, I’m sorry, I overreacted,” I admitted that I’d
been wrong. And I immediately regretted doing so.

- Here you are! - He raised his finger toward the ceiling. - All
sorts of suckers will come here and start to put on airs, they
think they are important! They are here on my grounds! Oh my god … I’ll definitely shut him up right now! I’ve
already gotten fed up with his constantly calling me a sucker
and emphasizing that this is only his training ground. The
funny thing is that even Carefire tries not to argue with him,
let alone other officers. Only I have dust ups with Sanych, and
the other fighters just wonder how this old fart hasn’t kicked
me out of his territory yet.
- Okay, lad. You passed the test, there were even seven seconds
left. - Which immediately confirmed the system message that
popped up.
Attention! You have passed the certification for the skill
“Possession of firearms, machine guns.” You are assigned
the status of “second class specialist”. The corresponding
icon will be displayed on the right side of the chest when the
reward display function is enabled. Upon getting the skill,
restrictions on your development are moved to seventy-five
percent. To develop further than 75%, you will need to
receive the status of “First Class Specialist”.
Wow, something great has just happened! I’m not a sucker
anymore… It seems that everyone is gobsmacked; otherwise,
how could such immediate silence be explained? And it wasn’t
anything to do with me – there was a duty officer sitting in the
corner, who constantly smiled when I argued with Sanych.
Even that officer was now shocked. Having caught the gaze of
the assistant, he nodded at Sanych, as if asking what was
wrong with him. In response, I received only a surprised
shrug.

- “Sanych, do you feel alright?” - I asked.
- Lousy – that’s how I feel! - He turned to me and began to
almost spit at me as he talked. - Tell me, damned monster, how
did you manage to kill fifteen opponents in three minutes?
Moreover, I set their difficulty on the level for certifying a first
class specialist. Yes, and I added a couple of non-standard
surprises for you, - then he turned back to the control panel
and began to mumble. – He’s going to pass his certification
and get away, without even saying a word. He’s keeping mum.
-

If not for my perception, I would hardly have heard what he’d
said, and I could hardly make out the last few words because
he was barely audible.
- “Sanych! Fuck you, old man, why have you decided to flunk
me while I’m going for my certification?” I was just freaked
out by such a turn of events. “Hey, you, the gray-haired
bastard, I’m here for just a week! ONLY ONE WEEK! I have a
contract for this period, before I get out of here! And I cannot
stay for longer, according to the contract. I don’t belong to the
outpost’s staff; I am a third-party mercenary who got access to
these grounds by chance.”
- So, you’re going to be here for four more days? - He rubbed
his hands together upon hearing that. It seems that he’s
conceived a new dirty trick. – In that case, I don’t understand,
sucker, why the hell you are still relaxing here?! Go to the
grounds quickly, in order to develop your skills and abilities!
It’s so difficult to understand him: either he has become
attached to me over these past few days, or he’s afraid of not
having a person to mock anymore. Swearing at him internally,
I turned and rushed back to the grounds. When I went to the
launch pad, I voiced my wishes, knowing that this old man
would hear me, even if I whispered.

- Sanych, give me a rifle, with optics, I will try to work up to
the index of fifty. - Do you need any spare magazine cases? - He asked me in
return.
- “No,” - I replied, after pondering for a moment. “I will only
work on improving my shooting and optics use. I won’t work
on the quick reload at the moment, only in the morning, after
I’ve become a second level specialist. It’s better to work on
my worst skills for now.
- Yes, with you being so clumsy, you’ve received all your
skills in a dire state. More than even a year is needed to make
something out of your… well, everything, - the old grumbler
started moaning. - How many times do I have to tell you,
sucker? You should hone two or three skills at most. No more!
But no, these suckers know better, every time… And now I have about twenty minutes of listening to his
moaning ahead of me. Although I must give him credit, from
the point of view of a young fighter who’s just learning, all his
methods and recommendations are to the point. Only, in my
case, it’s not needed at all. I just need to restore my skills up to
the ceiling of fast development. I didn’t understand the details,
but as practice has shown, each skill has a certain limit to
which I can raise it very quickly. For example: owning knives
/ daggers.
For each fight I had on the range, I raised it by at least two
percent, but at a value of 53 percent, the development progress
slowed down dramatically, and I received a level up to 54
percent after four hours of exhausting knife fighting.
Therefore, I decided to first unlock the available skills and
evenly raise them to at least fifty points, in order to get the
maximum amount out of the skills within the time available.
And I would then sharpen them in field battles. Meanwhile,

the nanites covered my body, forming equipment, and a rifle
began to be formed in my hands.
- Shall I connect the gun’s shoots to the neural interface? Sanych asked me.
- “Give me mechanically corrected optics, I’ll level up the skill
faster that way,” - I responded, again turning off my attention,
to avoid a new portion of the old man’s moaning.
Damn, did I use to grumble like he does, back in real life? If
so, then I sympathize with my relatives. It is strange that they
didn’t strangle me quietly in bed. Okay, it’s time to take a new
position. Now, Sanych will start to put out targets at different
distances and heights. I spent the first twenty minutes shooting
fixed targets, but then the old man seemed to get tired of
watching passive shooting, and he began to gradually
complicate the task. At first, the targets began to move at a
low speed, and then they began to move at different speeds,
relative to each other.
This way, we were having fun: I was training my firearms and
sighting device skills at the same time, and Sanych was doing
his best to come up with a way to complicate my tasks. As a
result, an hour and a half later, I overextended myself while
trying to catch one of the targets rushing at high speed along a
chaotic trajectory and periodically disappearing from view
with the aid of various obstacles, many of which Sanych had
formed throughout the three-dimensional space, absolutely not
caring about the rules of gravity. Because of that, quite a lot of
covers were just hanging in the air.
Take a deep breath, exhale, hold your breath, mentally count to
three, following the crosshair of the aiming grid behind the
target, and at the fourth second - I can shoot, my diaphragm
has settled down, but I’m still aiming; it changed the trajectory
three seconds ago, and the bullet will be ready to go soon …

there it is! At the fifth second, the target changes direction, and
begins to speed up even more. At the sixth second, I shoot. I
can’t breathe in and out, even for a second, or the diaphragm
would begin to shrink because of a lack of oxygen, which
would have a negative impact on the accuracy of the shot.
Continuing to observe the target, I see the target changing its
direction at the last moment, and the bullet hits only the very
edge.
- “Fuck you, Sanych! Calm down, that’s the fifth shot in a row
I’ve missed!” I could hear only silence in response. “Okay,
you gray-haired old man, I have to admit it, it’s too much for
me, I can’t keep up with them! Satisfied?”
- Yeah! – I heard his hoarse voice in response. - You need to
listen to the advice of old wise men first, and not go where you
aren’t allowed, don’t pretend to be Mr. Know-it-all. - “You can
do better, can you?” I muttered to myself, and only then I
remembered that he was at these grounds with me, and he can
hear absolutely everything said on the grounds.
The range got eerily quiet. Sanych didn’t even finished his
rant, suddenly cutting himself off. I can feel it in my guts: I
shouldn’t have said that. A minute later, the doors opened
behind me, and Sanych came out to the training grounds in a
training kit. Silently approaching me, he pointed his finger to a
point on the floor near the door, after which he waved his
hand, as if to say “get over there, fast”, which I immediately
did.
- Now start this thing! - He shouted, apparently giving a
command to the on duty officer who’d remained near the
control panel.
Sanych was covered with a cloud of nanites, which formed the
same set as mine. And the range underwent some dramatic

changes. At different heights, different covers appeared, three
times the number of the ones I’d dealt with, each moving
along its trajectory. Under the ceiling, two dozen targets
appeared, and, hanging there for just a second, they went off in
different directions at extreme speeds. Even carefully watching
one target, I didn’t always manage to keep pace with it.
Meanwhile, Sanych didn’t pay attention to the targets at all,
checking his equipment and rifle.
“Replace the magazine case with the twenty-charge one and,
in five seconds, give the signal to start,” he said again,
without specifically addressing anyone, but the operator heard
it and replaced the magazine in the rifle.
This time, satisfied with what he’d gotten, Sanych looked up
and watched the targets for about three seconds, without even
turning his head, staring at them unflinchingly. When the start
signal was given, he suddenly disappeared, or rather, exploded
from the spot where he’d been at such a cosmic speed, that it
seemed to me, for the first fraction of a second, that he’d just
vanished. In the place where he’d stood, there was only a light
haze of air filling the void that appeared, and a miniature wave
spread across the floor.

Noticing some odd movements in my periphery, I turned my
head toward them, only to see Sanych, already in the air, doing
some kind of incredible somersault and, almost at the speed of
a machine-gun, firing at all the targets. Well, seven more
targets appeared, but Sanych, turning over in the air, dealt with
them using the inertia of his movements, slightly bending his
knees. Well, that’s nothing unusual – I’d done it more than
once… but he was now on the ceiling, and that, fucking hell,
was ten meters from the floor.

Having pushed off from the ceiling, he was coming back down
to the floor at an angle, twisting in the air with a whip,
destroying three more targets at a time and, turning over at the
last moment, he finally landed on the floor. But the speed he’d
gained dragged him further backwards, but Sanych, leaning
slightly forward, simply slid his boots over the concrete and, at
the same time, destroyed the last four targets. Getting almost
to the wall, he turned around and asked:
- Hey there, tower, what’s the time? “Uhhhhhhhhhhhh …” It looks like the duty officer is shocked
as well. “3.21 seconds passed from the moment the signal was
given to the destruction of the last target.”
Nanites sloughed off him, and he was once more in the
training set. And this old chap … umm … respectable, old and
wise man, clutching his lower back with his right hand and
bending over, shuffled his feet toward the door.
- Fucking radicular pain, it keeps torturing me. It took me
more than three seconds. I’m getting old, yeah, that’s true. He lamented as he walked off. Having come up to me, already
addressing me, he continued. - As your brethren, the
beginners, the noobies would say, “See how you should play,
scrub?” Having the right skills and brains decides everything
in the game! In response, I could only nod my head very quickly and
eagerly. Sanych shuffled to the door and disappeared through
it. I slowly raised my hand and collected myself, but I didn’t
want to come back to reality, because I was amazed at what I’d
seen him do. What was that? I have a feeling that I’ve been
dunked into shit, and have been taught a good lesson, which I
must remember. And most importantly, he’d dunked me so
deeply into that shit that even my legs can’t be seen sticking

out from that barrel of shit. Then he got me out and once again
dunked me in it. Where did Carefire get this wise grandfather?
To do such a thing, while being only level 83 … I have no
words – it’s beyond my ability to comprehend.
- Why are you just standing there? What are you dreaming
about? – The mocking voice of the old man came from the
speakers. – We’re going to continue training, aren’t we? After such a demonstration of skill, I silently listened to all the
old man’s jokes without any snide remarks, and when the
evening finally came, I dressed quickly, rushed to the store,
and just fifteen minutes later, I was standing in front of the
doors to the control room of the test range again. Upon
entering the room, I found Sanych still at the console and,
coughing slightly, caught his attention.
- What? – Sanych asked, without turning his head.
“I’m here, this is …” I began to mumble. I’d been very
impressed by his skills, but, realizing he’d hate me being some
spineless idiot, I continued in a normal tone. “Sanych, forgive
me, I’m an idiot.” I blurted out without thinking. “I am proud
of the speed at which I am growing, with your guidance. I
apologize. Let these two liters, as well as a few kilos of snacks,
help us become friends.
To be more persuasive, I even shook the packets in my hands.
Sanych turned around, judged me and my present with an
appraising glance, sighed heavily and said:
- Well, young man! I’ve been teaching you, but you ain’t
getting any wiser. Who comes to apologize with only two liters
of booze? Even if it’s Alvaz. -

He took two glasses out of a hidden cupboard somewhere in
his room, and wiped them with his fingers, then waved his
hand invitingly. In a nutshell, I was forgiven by the time the
third liter was finished off. It turned out that Sanych had a
five-liter flask of liquor in his storeroom. As a result, two
hours later, we were already soused and singing songs,
however, we each sang our own song. But it was still the best
choir.
- “Sanych, you should tell me how you managed to do it!”
-What, exactly? “Well, the thing,” I depicted an incomprehensible figure in the
air with my hand. “You must have stats beyond
comprehension.”
- Stats are worth nothing! - He waved his hand at me, swaying
slightly. –Although, okay, not really: the stats aren’t bullshit at
all, but not the most important thing. - “What is the most important thing?”
- The most important thing is your skill at playing the game.
The higher the skill, the wider the list of skills, or as you say,
abilities, the better. Never try to limit your development. Let’s
have another round. – He interrupted his thoughts, pouring
another shot. After we drank, he continued. – I showed you a
bunch of skills at the test grounds: a set of enhancements for
the attributes, a couple of skills relating to acrobatics, and a
few rifle skills. The bottom line is that I have, in my … In
general, for many years, been developing them to almost the
maximum value. Attributes provide the basis for this, and how
punishing the Cooldown can get depends on them. Oh, I
completely forgot. Some skills become available only if your
body can bear such a straight. - “Wow! Why are you just sitting here, with such skills and
knowledge?”
- You know, kid, I’m just tired. Exhausted, I would say. I’m sick
and tired of running around, saving the ass of all sorts of

idiots, and shooting mutants. I’m tired of all these squabbles,
intrigues, and experiments. In general, I am living the rest of
my days out.
- “I don’t understand, Sanych, you can still earn yourself more
replications.”
- Do you think that I don’t have any permissions to replicate
left, kid? Yes, I do. I still have them! That’s the whole problem.
– Sanych got wound up, gradually raising his voice and
practically switching to a scream. – Yeah, this fucking Server
doesn’t let me go! I already cut the levels and whatnot and it
does nothing. Only if I die a natural death will my permission
to replicate be canceled. And I’m tired, just tired of living, and
I want to say goodbye to my family and friends for the last
time.
While saying the last sentence, Sanych had already calmed
down and switched to a normal tone. Having poured us two
full glasses, he handed one of them to me, and we drained
them in one gulp, in complete silence. My curiosity was eating
me up, how long has he already been lived, since he’s so fed
up with life? Trying to collect my thoughts, I wanted to ask
him this question, but the last portion of alcohol hit my head,
and the world around me just disappeared. In the morning, I
woke up in the same place. Sanych wasn’t around, and all the
bottles of booze had vanished. Having risen and stretching my
stiff muscles, I was about to go out when Sanych appeared. He
was fresh and awake, as if nothing had happened the night
before.
- Well, have you come to your senses yet? - “It seems I have.”
- Then why the hell are you chilling out, dude? Who will train
up your skills and abilities for you? Quickly, to the range! -

No, I’m still gonna send him to respawn; he should suffer a
couple more decades. Although… it would be better to hire a
killer, and pay for a dozen murders, occurring every twenty
years, and let this old bastard suffer a couple of hundred years
more. That’s how I made my plans for revenge, while jogging
in the direction of the training grounds.

CHAPTER XVII: Inquiries

My week at the range passed by so quickly. Sanych, in the
end, gave me some discouraging feedback: He kept saying that
I was so worthless and I couldn’t do anything, and I didn’t
know anything, and so on, just like he liked to say about all
other newcomers. But it was clear that he was simply afraid of
a new wave of boredom, which would come soon. I was now
sitting and sorting out my stats, trying to decide in which
direction I should continue to develop my character. Yeah, I
actually didn’t even know what I wanted. I’d gone into the
virtual world, so as not to be completely frustrated before my
oncoming death. I ran around a little and shot someone… So
what?
Now what? I have enough of the local currency. Now, I will
haggle a little with Carefire, angling for several exciting items,
and try to squeeze a trophy replication capsule into my share,
pick up a couple of sets of equipment for different purposes, or
maybe a couple of sets to use for the growth of my stats, if
something interesting should happen. That’s it. I don’t even
know what to do next. I don’t want to turn into a dumb grind
machine, I have nothing to earn and win, and I was lucky
enough to have made a fortune. I’ll at least check how my
character is looking…
Name: Volper
Level: 15
Experience: 23845/8109790
Armor (average): 1
Life: 60/60
Hunger: 14/120
Thirst: 17/120

Fatigue: 7/60
Carrying weight: 7.2 / 60
Stats:
Strength - 6
Dexterity - 9
Endurance - 6
Perception - 9
Intelligence - 6
Mind - 1
Luck - 8
Charisma - 5
Skills:
Handling one-handed guns - 58%
Handling machine guns - 56%
Handling automatic rifles - 53%
Handling firearms - 61%
Handling one-handed energy pistols - 68%
Handling energy pistols, machine guns - 71%
Handling energy shotguns - 27%
Handling automatic energy rifles - 63%
Handling energy rifles - 93%
Handling single-handed pulse pistols - 72%
Handling impulse submachine guns - 78%
Handling pulsed shotguns - 67%
Handling automatic rifles - 41%
Handling rifles - 87%

Handling thermal one-handed pistols - 23%
Handling thermal pistols, machine guns - 35%
Handling thermal shotguns - 62%
Handling thermal automatic rifles - 27%
Handling thermal rifles - 82%
Handling knives / daggers - 54%
Handling energy knives / daggers - 62%
Handling swords - 2%
Throwing grenades - 69%
Shooting with both hands - 63%
Combat engineering - 26%
Explosives - 32%
Pitfalls - 32%
Optical sighting devices - 53%
Digital sighting devices - 76%
Dressing wounds in the field- 12%
Fast reloading of automatic weapons - 52%
Silent movement - 48%
Searching caches - 7%
Mechanical hacking of locks - 25% (further development is
blocked until your status as a third-class specialist is
confirmed)
Regeneration - 12%
Trade - 6%
Torture - 25% (further development is blocked until your
status as a third-class specialist is confirmed)
Vivisection - 25% (further development is blocked until your
status as a third-class specialist is confirmed)

Interrogation - 25% (further development is blocked until
your status as a third-class specialist is confirmed)
Intimidation - 25% (further development is blocked until
your status as a third-class specialist is confirmed)
Injury - 25% (further development is blocked until your
status as a third-class specialist is confirmed)
Professions: Progress:
Step beyond – You’ve looked into the face of Death itself.
Who are you? Are you lucky or you are just a loser? After
all, not only have you looked into the eyes of Death, but It
also looked into yours.
Executioner - There are no people who remain silent and
keep secrets under any conditions, there are just poorly
interrogated people. You have proven that, if necessary, you
can get info out of anyone.
Awards:
The emblem “The will to live” - a triangular sign with a
hand depicted on it, clutching a bloody heart in its fist
Every true warrior, after seeing this badge, will respect your
will to survive. After all, the main goal is to survive, in order
to fulfill the remaining orders.
Classification icons: [Expand]
Killed neural network owners:
Criminals: 2
Persons dangerous to society: 19
Personal account: 2 378 925 credit points
What astounding progress I’ve made in just a week! Still, now
every new percent point will be like bliss for me. I have
already reached my limits, brought with me from reality, for
basic skills, although I’d thought there would’ve been much

more. It seems that, due to the fact that I hadn’t applied my
skills in reality for a long time, they’d deteriorated a little, or
the criteria for evaluation are stringent. My thoughts were
interrupted by a flashing mail icon.
Sender: Alexander Carefire
Text of the letter:
Need to talk. Urgently! Waiting at the base.
Quickly jumping up, I began to gather my things. I don’t know
what’s happened with Carefire, but it seems that something
serious has gone down, since he doesn’t usually send me such
short messages with orders in them. Putting aside my set of
armor, which I’d taken from the base of the bandits, I jogged
along the corridor in the direction of the elevator. I reached the
office of Carefire in the administration building in less than
three minutes. The commander met me, pacing nervously from
one end of the room to the other. Seeing me, he immediately
stopped and focused his gaze on me.
- Tell me, what shit have you stepped into?
- What do you mean?
“In ten minutes, an investigator is going to arrive from the
Alfarome Internal Security Office. I’m trying to figure out
which of the three options available to me I should take. First,
if you aren’t guilty of anything, then we simply meet this
investigator, and then give him a kick in the ass. Secondly, if
you’ve gotten into some trouble, I’m facing the question:
either I’ll give you time to run away, or I’ll detain you for a
little while and give the order to take you into custody.
So, dealing with the mutants has finally become a problem.
Krill did warn me that I should keep silent about meeting him.

It’s just unclear how this investigator learned about the
mutants. Damn, I remember that the robot was shredded to
pieces by Krill, but a couple of turrets were left alone. And, it
seems, the information about them got into the reports, so the
security guards got interested. If it’s all just conjecture, then I
don’t need to worry, I just have to avoid directly lying… Fuck,
who knows how advanced the polygraphs are in here. Stop it.
And if they have any proof of me helping the mutants, how
can that be an issue for me? Maybe it’s really worth getting
away before it’s too late?
Damn it, my thoughts are too jumbled up. So, I first need to
calm down and think clearly - what can they do to me? Yeah,
they can’t do anything, I constantly forget that this is a game,
but I perceive it as the real world. Well, they can put me in jail,
but I think it’ll just be for a short time. I think the devs
wouldn’t have created prison sentences lasting several years,
that would break the game for every criminal, surely. Phew,
now I feel relieved. Well, let’s look at this investigator in
person.
- “Why are you silent?” Carefire was clearly starting to get
nervous.
- Well, I was just wondering if I could have, unknowingly, done
something bad. It seems to me that I couldn’t have done
anything illegal.
- “Okay, then relax,” – the commander replied. Those feelings
of nervousness and tension that had made him so alert have
finally vanished. Until the investigator arrives, there are a
couple of minutes to discuss other issues.
- Yeah, but I have a question. What about my problem with
Carso? - “I don’t know,” he frowned at hearing my question. “The
guys from the Centre said that they can’t help for the time
being. They promised to include this issue in the trial. Then, if
you’re lucky, according to the court ruling, the Server itself

will send you data about the decisions. And why do you care
about those things, are they that good?”
- Well, the problem is that I don’t know. I haven’t seen such a
thing before, the Server doesn’t provide any description on the
neural interface and when the rifle was examined, it exploded
with such force that I thought they’d put a couple of kilograms
of synthetic explosives in it. - “So it’s your crap that exploded at the research center?”
- Well, yes, it is, - I couldn’t object to such an obvious fact.
- I agree; it’s better not to sell such things right away. By the
way, about the trophies… Have you already decided on the list
of trophies?
- When could I have had the time to think about it? First, I
spent the whole week at the range, and today you pulled me
out of bed. - “Yes, I’m not hurrying you, I just have a suggestion. I’ll have
the capsule and all the heavy weaponry, along with the
furniture and thirty-seven percent of the total production. The
difference, respectively, will be paid to you.”
- Stop, Alexander, I want to keep the capsule for myself, - I
tried to stop this quick-witted boy.
- No, Volper, listen to me! First, capsules can’t be personal
property. Secondly, where will you put it? Thirdly, who will
service it?
Looking at it like that, Carefire was right. But, damn, I’d really
wanted to get hold of my own capsule. That would give me a
great advantage. It would be possible to organize a small
division and engage in mercenary activities, even conduct
further raids that would be practically impossible to do alone.
Fuck you, you can have the capsule, but I’ll squeeze
something useful out of you, but what can be gained here isn’t
clear … Oh, I know.

- “Give me a couple of hours to think it over, and then we’ll
get back to this matter. OK?”
- Deal! The investigator is going to be here any minute. His
vehicle has just arrived.

While waiting for the investigator, we stopped talking for a
while. I was making plans for the future. I really wanted to be
able to do far away raids, because that could give me access to
various interesting locations: the laboratories of corporations,
research centers or even some kind of secret military bases or
test sites with limited access. Given the estimated size of the
fifth level, I doubt that all these locations could be in one
place. But there are several things preventing me from
exploring properly: there is no technical nor research support
backing me up.
I have no desire to give all of this to a third party. Well,
Carefire seems to be a good man, although this is also
questionable, I haven’t known him that long, but at the
moment, he seems better than the scientists from the
corporation. Again, the question of transporting valuables
from the cleared locations arises. First, you need something to
take them out with. Moreover, they also need to be transported
somewhere. This can be organized, but then another question
arises - I don’t want to start a clan or any other organization. I
don’t want to be responsible for other people’s lives. I’ve had
enough of that to last me a lifetime, two even. I’m tired of it.
Yeah, I understand that death here doesn’t mean the end, but
psychologically, I can’t stand going through it all again.
Therefore, I can invite only a loner, or, at most, a group of
several people who I can trust with my life. My musings were
cut short by the door that opened and the man that entered,
wearing an official looking, dark gray suit of an old cut. Such
suits had been popular in the 21st, maybe the 22nd century in

the real world. This isn’t the first time that I’ve noticed the fact
that here, in Alfarome, ancient objects can exist alongside
high-tech equipment. The man who’d come in looked around
the room with an arrogant gaze and turned to Carefire.
- Good afternoon, gentlemen! I am the special investigator of
the internal security of Alfarome, Mr. Survaker. I’ve arrived
on behalf of the governmental department dealing with the
affairs of mutants, or, to put it more precisely, because of
Krill! Well, let’s see what can tell me: I would like to
interrogate a replicant at this outpost, from a cast from the
long-term storage archives. This replicated person was
registered by a representative of the replication center under
the name “Volper”. I demand that you, in the shortest possible
time, bring this person in for interrogation. And until this
person is delivered to me, please leave the office. I need to
prepare for the interrogation. Okay, what the fuck? I wonder how far the crematorium is
from here. In my opinion, this dandy would be easy to deal
with it. I doubt I’d get a chance to try it, though, as I can see
Carefire is already red in the face with anger. OK, I’m going to
put on a show now.
- Don’t you know that it’s polite to knock on the door before
entering? - I asked Survaker.
- “What did you just say?”
Oh, yes, I recognize that look, it means: “How dare you speak
to me without showing me the proper respect?” The
commander also stared at me. It seems like he’d expected a lot
from me, but not something like this. Well, I will now put on a
show, even if it’s for only one viewer.

- I’ll ask you again: “Don’t you know that it’s polite to knock
on the door before entering?” No? Well, I guess that means
I’ll have to teach you, - I continued, still sitting in my chair. We move our hand like this and knock on the door from the
other side with the knuckles here… - Carefire was shocked, but
I had my usual expression. The investigator, on the other hand,
had begun to blush. -After that, we open the door a little and
ask if we can enter, - after concluding my demonstration, I
rose and approached the investigator. - And now, let’s
practice! I take him by the shoulders, turn him around and push him out
into the corridor. Then I shut the door. Turning my back to the
door, I take a step forward and step slightly to the left and
stop, stretching my right arm to the side parallel to the floor,
while lifting my left hand up in a “stop” gesture, facing
Carefire, without letting him ask any questions. One, two,
three, the door opens at once, and I turn back around.
- “What are you doing?” The investigator began shouting at
me.
- Wrong! - I interrupt him, and then quickly slam the door
closed in his again. Only this time I’m stopping him from
opening it easily.
“Umm … what was that?” Carefire asked.
- I don’t like men like him! So I’ve decided to teach him a
lesson. - “You’ll get into a whole load of trouble.”
- Alex, what’re you talking about? I’ve done nothing wrong at
all; let’s look at how he’ll report on the situation. I asked him
one innocent question. Not having received an answer to it, I
simply shared the information that I had, and offered him a
chance to practice, in order to master this skill. On his part,
there hasn’t been a single word said about his unwillingness to
do this. -

Carefire literally froze for a few seconds, and then he began
laughing wildly, doubled over. To my surprise, nobody was
trying to open the door anymore. Gently letting go of it, I went
to the chair where I had been sitting before, and then took out
a knife. I began to calmly clean my nails with the tip of the
knife. Carefire, still laughing, looked up at me and started
shaking even harder, slowly falling under the table.
- Hahaha … He’s demanding that my fighters … Hahaha …
throw us out of the office … Hahaha … and arrest us, because:
“These plebeians do not realize who they’ve messed with,” someone knocked on the door and we stopped laughing, and
stared at entrance together.
- Please enter! - Carefire shouted, after someone knocked
again. A man of about 40, wearing the same kind of suit
Survaker had worn, looked into the room.
- Good afternoon! I’m looking for the Commander … Yeah, I
guess I’ve found him. May I come in? - After Carefire’s nod, he
entered the office and introduced himself. - Investigator
Stepanenko. I understand that you are the commander of
outpost No. 5-17-23, Alexander Carefire? - a nod in the
direction of the commander followed his words. - And Volper,
a participant in the project to restore the fifth level, who we
need to talk to, or, as people might call him, the replicant,
which is strange, because we all go through replication
process, but the name, for some reason, was given to the
participants of the project. But that doesn’t matter. As far as I
know, you’ve already met my partner. My and Carefire’s nodding confirmed it for him. This
investigator was strikingly different from the first man’s. He
had a pleasant voice, choosing his words carefully, trying to
avoid upsetting us or saying anything that might be perceived
in the wrong way.

- “I apologize for my colleague,” Stepanenko continued.
“Unfortunately, he’s the son of one of the shareholders of the
pharmaceutical corporation and has decided to work in our
service to raise a few levels, to show off his status later. While
he’s running around like mad and writing angry letters to his
daddy, demanding the rude individuals be dealt with, you, in
this instance, we can calmly resolve our issues.”
This guy was far from simple. He’d managed to get rid of a
pain in the ass by using us. He’d most likely managed to plan
it out based solely on our profiles. True, my psychological
profile is only a couple of pages, but I suspect analysts in his
department do their work well. And now he was emphasizing
the fact that he was supposedly the skilled one, not his partner.
I get the feeling he’d accept any concessions with a smile and
offers of eternal friendship, while angling to stab you in the
back.
- “Please, go on,” I responded. - What do you want to know? - Don’t worry, Volper, just some trifling questions. Our service
received a report on your joint operation with Alexander
Carefire, during the destruction of the gang that had been led
by a certain Alckor, and we just need to clear up a few things,
regarding that. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?
- “Please do, I have nothing to hide,” I said. Of course, there
was something I was hiding, but I wouldn’t admit it, obviously.
- To start with, tell me how it all happened, starting from the
moment you learned about the location of the base, - he took
out some kind of rectangular device and put it on the table. –
And I will record our conversation to help with my reports, if
you don’t mind.
- “Not a problem, please feel free to record! So, it all started
when I returned to the technical tunnels and cleared
everything up…”

Then I briefly told him about what happened, from the
moment I discovered the place, to the moment the
reinforcements came in with Carefire. Only I didn’t mention
Ellie and Krill.
- It turned out that, when you went down to the eighth floor,
the security robot had already been destroyed? - “Yes, when I passed through the 8th level, going further
down, the robot was lying in a pile of debris.”
- You mentioned that all the cells in the room were empty. - “Yes, there was only one security guard for the entire lab.”
- Try to remember more details… -

He tortured me like that for another thirty minutes: asking
questions, periodically returning to different points and
formulating the question in a new way. If I hadn’t been
expecting such a thing, I’d most likely have already let
something slip a few times by then; there were some tricky
questions. I formulated my words so that they sounded true.
Never giving a definite answer, I always answered in detail,
implying one answer, but in a way that it allowed it to be taken
as an answer to another question.
- Last question. Have you ever seen this person? - Stepanenko
opened his right palm, and Krill’s hologram appeared above
it.
- “Let me think,” I began to drag things out, trying to quickly
put together an answer. “Most likely not, but I won’t exclude
such a possibility. I wasn’t paying particular attention to the
people who were there. I was trying to survive and make my
way out of the jammer’s range.”

- Hmm … Well, then I won’t keep you any longer, I still need to
find my partner, lest he end up doing something with
unpleasant consequences. Goodbye, gentlemen.
And then he left the office. I don’t know whether he believed
me or not, but for the time being, I was free of the investigator.
If I end up working with the mutants again, it’ll be necessary
to make up more details for the story I’ll tell anyone who asks
about it.
- That’s strange! - drawled Carefire.
- “What’s strange, exactly?” I turned to him.
- I’ve heard about this Stepanenko. In general, he deals with
quite complicated matters, so I don’t understand what he’s
doing here, dealing with such an ordinary case.
If you take Krill’s level into account, then I’m not at all
surprised that a proper investigator was sent. I felt like
something else was off, too. If he’s such a good investigator,
then why did he leave so easily? Okay, so far, I’ve dealt with
this problem, although it may come up again in the future. I’ll
focus on more personal plans for the future, for now.
- Alex, fuck him. Instead, tell me, how do you feel about the
notion of working with me?
- “What is the plan?” He asked, trying to get more details
about my request. “Do you need a reinforcement group
again?”
- No, this time, I need the opposite. Let me describe my idea
better, and we will sit down and think about how to implement
it. - “Well, let’s discuss it, then.”
- I want to start doing raids on places far from here, but I just
can’t stand carrying out other people’s orders, and I would like

to be self-employed, so to speak! - “So register your own clan…”
- Wait, – I interrupted him. – Look. As I said, I want to work
alone, but not because I need a big income or something like
that, I just want to be independent, not reporting to anyone. A
clan, of course, can help me with this, but there’s another
issue: I don’t want to manage any people; I already told you
that I’m tired of it. But without any support, I cannot fight
properly. I need a material and technical base, equipment,
doctors, etc. Hell, I even need a skilled warehouse manager!
My plans won’t work out if I don’t have all of that. So I suggest
you provide me with a base, all the necessary personnel for its
maintenance, plus a trophy unit, under the guise of a battle
group, to carry the loot for me. On my part, I’ll give you half
of the loot, and I’ll just reserve the right to have first pick of
the trophies, with you being able to take all the excess from me
at the estimated cost of the system. What do you think about
my proposal? - “And why don’t you want to serve in one of my military
units? I’ll form a new squad, consisting only of you, and
assign you the appropriate logistics and facilities.”
- Alex, you told me that the property and trophies are
distributed according to the hierarchy. That is, as far as I
understand it, if I enter your service, most of the loot will then
simply be assigned to the outpost. I suggest we sign some kind
of agreement or whatever; I admit I’m not that informed about
the system when it comes to these matters. The agreement will
include the following: the outpost will provide me with all the
necessities I require to do my part. Like rooms, workers, and
equipment, maintenance, etc. In return, I’ll pay a certain
amount of money for your services, or provide you with half of
the looted trophies, if the estimated value of that half exceeds
the required payment amount. Plus, you’ll have the exclusive
right to buy the remaining trophies from me first. Or
something like that. -

And in response, there was only silence. The poor man was
thinking it over hard; he was used to doing everything through
direct orders and protocol, as it happens with the bulk of
paramilitary formations. But my commercial approach to this
issue has caused a mental block. I can practically hear his
brain creaking, processing the information it received. His
forehead was wrinkled. It wasn’t because he was slow or
stupid; I know from experience that it’s hard to think like a
civilian, after getting used to a military way of thinking.
- “Ok, wait,” the deep thinker woke up. – “In a nutshell: you
continue to clear the territory yourself. The outpost provides
you with repair, maintenance, and treatment services, and
warehouses for all the looted treasures, and you give us half
the trophies for it?”
- Yes. - “I still don’t understand… what do you get out of this? You
can rent a warehouse and get everything else at the research
center by just paying for their services. There are doctors and
engineers there. And everything will be much cheaper.”
- I don’t agree. My contract with you ensures I have a base
where I can always return to rest a bit and where everything is
looked after by specially trained people. Also, I have the
support of a rather serious, at this level, organization, in the
form of your outpost, which is very interested in providing me
with all the services I need, and the highest level of services, at
that. I no longer need to dig through trophies to sort them out,
and I don’t need to look for a place where I can get rid of my
excess loot, somewhere I can get repairs or medical care. I
don’t need to haggle about the price of the services or worry
about their quality. That is only a small list of upsides for me,
especially when you consider the support, the teams that will
carry everything for me… My benefit is saving myself a lot of
time and effort that I can invest into searching for new targets,
or on individual private orders.

- “Well, yes, you’re right. For me, as the commander, such an
offer is profitable as well.
And then we started to hash out the contract, discussing
various force majeure situations and the rest of the red tape
questions, which took us a lot of time, until evening, in fact.
I’d wanted to sort out some trophies from the bandit base so
much, in order to pick up some new equipment and weapons.
Alas, it seemed like I’d have to wait until tomorrow.

CHAPTER XVIII: Beyond

the walls of the outpost… Again

After I signed the contract with Carefire, he allocated some
space within the outpost, where his guys began to build a twostory building for me. As I’d understood from our
conversation, the first floor would be reserved for the
warehouse and a large garage, together with a repair shop. On
the second, most of the space will be occupied by the rest of
the service departments and a small room, which will be only
for me. In return, I will pay rent. From a legal point of view,
the entire building will belong to the outpost and be part of a
specially formed technical unit, where, apart from me, all the
other military groups that serve beyond the outpost’s walls will
also get various services.
Well, those are only being formed now. And in fact, these units
are also being created because of me and will consist of a fire
support group and a trophy team. Although the commander
had long been planning to do something similar, he either
hadn’t had any time to do this earlier, or he’d lacked the
resources. I couldn’t understand where he would find people
for all these posts that had appeared after the formation of the
new divisions, but after I asked Carefire about it, everything
became clear. He’d simply invited his former colleagues or
those who had served under his command. Some of them were
persuaded to return to the service, others were invited and
offered contracts; he even invited a couple of fighters from the
prison.
How they ended up there remains a puzzle to me, but I
realized one thing: the commander was inviting only the
people he trusted to his outpost. I supported him and wished
him well. Not even because he cares about his soldiers
(although this is also an important factor), but also because
Carefire was now practically building a new organization,
taking advantage of the unique opportunity that had been

presented to him after the appearance of this outpost. If this
went on like this, then perhaps this outpost would eventually
grow into a larger structure that could compete with many
other corporations.
I devoted the following three days to sorting out the trophies.
It is, of course, good that I’ve made a list of items, but the
names didn’t tell me anything. Therefore, I had to go from one
object to another and read its attributes, which formed a huge
list, where under each model I also entered the attributes
issued by the system, while at the same time adding my own
notes, so as not to get lost in this pile of various equipment
mixed with weapons.
It turned out that there were a lot of items that I couldn’t use
due to restrictions imposed by the Server. All those items were
immediately marked with a note to send them to the long-term
storage warehouse, to which they would be moved later. As
for myself, I’d picked up five identical sets for now, just in
case. I could now handle respawning several times in a row.
But everything that didn’t suit me, or I simply didn’t want to
use it, was mercilessly noted as items for sale - all sorts of
machine guns, heavy combat armor, security droid complexes
and other stuff, which I wasn’t ever going to use.
The entire list was later sent to Carefire, who promised he
would appoint a person to the position of storekeeper in a
couple of days. At the same time, I immediately looked at
what I needed from the items on this list before sending the
trophies to the trading corporation, which now controlled the
local store. Having dealt with the current issues, after walking
around the construction site that would be my future cover for
a bit, I decided that it was time for me to go searching for new
adventures again. After carefully examining the cleared area
around the outpost on my tablet, I decided to go in the
opposite direction of the bandit’s former HQ.

The players were now hurrying to shoot everything that
moved, to clear up the area between the post and the main
base, and even Carefire had begun to give the task of clearing
mobs in this zone to almost everyone. So I don’t have much to
do there, but in the opposite direction, where the dark spots of
the unexplored territory were closest, there were very few
players, and if I wanted to find good places for hunting, I
figured I had to go there. Having equipped myself with a kit
collected from the trophies, I threw in a three-day supply of
food and water. After a bit of thought, I added, just in case, a
portable analyzer, which could be used to test water or food
for safety of consumption. Strangely enough, there had been
no such analyzers in the trophies; even Carefire didn’t have
one in stock. I had to go to the store to get it, and even there
they barely managed to find it somewhere in the depths of the
store.

And so, I was standing on a branching road and pondering
where to turn: left or right, and then I suddenly heard an
explosion from the left side. Judging by the sound, it wasn’t
that far. Moving a little to the side, I hid behind the fragment
of a building, which was lying on the road, like an improvised
barricade. I pulled a monocular out of my pouch and started
looking through it at the street that went to the left. Although
my monocular was quite large, I had only 12x magnification,
but it had a very useful function, and that’s why I’d chosen it.
The laser range finder, which was built into the monocular,
measured distances from 30 to 1800 meters, with a margin of
error that was only ten centimeters.
Of course, it had one drawback: it consumed as much energy
as a full-fledged aiming military complex. It was only because
of the rangefinder function that I’d taken such a thing with me,
and it now showed me that after 1070 meters, the street would
turn sharply to the right. The flash that ran through the wall, to
which I was now measuring the distance, showed that there

was a battle around the corner; in about three seconds, the
sound of an explosion was heard. I definitely won’t go there:
they seem to already be having a load of fun. So I decided to
turn right. Moving the monocular away from my face, I began
to pack it back into the pouch, when I noticed some movement
at the end of the street.
Since I hadn’t had the time to pack up the monocular, I placed
my eye against the device again, observing the people who’d
shown up around the corner through it. The first three of them
were very close to each other. Although no: two people were
carrying the third, supporting him on both sides. Damn it, the
magnifying function isn’t letting me see everything in detail.
But if I’m not mistaken, the fighter in the middle is missing a
leg: up to his thigh. A couple of fighters appeared, who,
covering each other, alternately moved from cover to cover,
firing somewhere around the turn, at an enemy that was
invisible to me.
Putting away the monocular, I became thoughtful. On the one
hand, it’s not my business; on the other hand, these guys are in
really dire straits. These five players probably ran into
someone or something. Now they have a fighter that’s
basically dead weight, with two of them too busy carrying
him. The remaining two are simply trying to distract the
enemy, giving their comrades the opportunity to deliver the
wounded to a safer place. From the human being’s point of
view, of course, they’re doing everything right, but from a
tactical standpoint, their actions are stupid: they should’ve sent
the injured guy to respawn and continued to fight back. Then
again, if the wounded man is dragged to the outpost, he won’t
lose any skill development. Okay, why not help these
miserable sods, and then I can go back to my own business.
Throwing off my backpack, I put it to my right leg and took
out the case.

At these distances, I don’t need it, usually, but now, the rifle,
which is stored unassembled in a soft case and fastened to the
right side of the backpack, is just what I need. Having
unbuckled the case, I took out the parts of the rifle from it and
proceeded to assemble the rifle. There were, of course, more
interesting models in stock - with a greater firing range, with
higher accuracy, and good rate of damage. But I liked this one,
because it was possible to quickly assemble and disassemble it
using several main parts, allowing it to be transported in a
compact case, and, if necessary, assembled in fifteen seconds.
I inserted the barrel into the receiver. Several turns, and special
fixers tightly fastened it.

This action took about three seconds. Two more seconds are
for mounting a telescopic butt. From a side pocket, I pull out
the longitudinal sliding bolt and drive it into place. Seven
seconds have passed, and you can already shoot it, but that’s
not all. I take out another nozzle and fasten the threaded
connection to the barrel. This is my trunk extension, and at the
same time, a muzzle brake compensator with a slight effect of
lowering the sound. Another two seconds are for mounting
bipods and digital optics and then I put the magazine case into
the rifle, and in the last second, I send the cartridge to the
chamber. And here, in my hands, I have a beauty that’s ready
for battle.
Sniper rifle “Swift”
Type: Combined energy-fire sniper rifle
Ammunition: 9.19x61
Places an energy shell on the bullet, causing damage:
Kinetic damage: + 50-70
Penetrating damage: + 45-60
Energy damage: + 60-80

Range: 1,300 meters
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 30
Modes of shooting: single
Condition: 95%
Weight: 2.8 kg
Threaded cartridge “9.19x61”
Kinetic damage: 35-52
Penetrating damage: 38-47
Condition: 100%
Cartridge weight: 17.2 g
I rested the rifle with the bipods on the edge of the building
ruins, then used another precious second adjusting the height
of the telescopic bipods so that it would be convenient to shoot
without bending in an uncomfortable position. The soldiers
carrying the wounded, in the meantime, had run another 150
or 200 meters, but the ones covering them had just started to
retreat from the turn. The enemy wasn’t visible yet. A short
mental message later - the grid of sniper skills opened in the
lower part of the visible space.
In mere fractions of a second, I go over the available skills and
find what I need, activate the Rifle Corrections and watch my
fingers run over the sight adjusting panel, making corrections
for shooting and taking into account all the variables for the
target that I am aiming at. This was much easier than doing it
by hand, as Sanych had shown me. It usually took me 5 to 17
seconds for one new adjustment, manually.
I’d gotten the skill only after the 23rd attempt, but now the
skill would independently make all the corrections in two
seconds. True, at the third skill level, the skill only lasts 15

minutes, but it gives a buff to my damage, increasing it by a
fifth, if I don’t move. I freeze in anticipation of the enemy
appearing in my sights, but for now, concentrating on my other
eye, the one not looking through optics, I observe how, in the
distance, the small figures of people are running in my
direction. Some other figures appear around the corner.
I focused all my attention on the image I was seeing in the
optics and, with a slight movement of my hand, I aimed the
rifle in the direction of the newly appeared bodies. Well, these
are clearly not people, but something resembling the local
bestiary. About a meter high, maybe a meter and a half, they
were moving by slightly rolling on massive hind legs, which
ended with huge, three-toed feet. These were used to stabilize
their bodies, as they brought them forward.
The front legs are atrophied and look like the beginnings of
new, still growing legs. Their bodies were covered with some
blotches; from such a distance, even through optics, it was
difficult to see clearly, but they were very similar to horns. The
muzzle was extended, in a cone shape, with narrow slits for
eyes located on it. At the place where they should’ve had jaws,
some tentacles were hanging down instead.

(Picture: Cramber)
I took all this in through my optics, for about three seconds,
while my diaphragm calmed down after holding the breath on
the exhale. At the fourth second, I aimed at the head of one of
the mobs, which was running right in the middle of the road,
and I gently pulled the trigger. A light push to the shoulder and
a small shot sound signaled the beginning of the bullet’s
journey toward its target.
My eyes bugged out in surprise: I watched the monster getting
up after that shot. It quickly shrugged it off and continued to
run, but in the midst of the growths on its head, just to the
right of the center of the forehead, a fresh trace from the
ricocheted bullet was clearly visible. Damn it, it’s not a normal
skull but the frontal armor of a tank! I won’t give up. I waited
for the rifle to recharge, humming slightly as it did so.
The indicator, located in the lower right corner of the sight,
turned green, indicating that the energy circuit was ready, and I
immediately fired another bullet. This time, the monster
jumped over its own head from the bullet impact and became a

lifeless carcass in the middle of the road. Casting a quick
glance at the logs, I learned that I had killed some kind of
creature called a Cramber. What an interesting beast: because
of it, I now have seven percent of battery left in my rifle. And
I’d taken only four spare batteries. Well, at least I’ve got an
adapter for charging them from various power sources.

In the meantime, the group of fighters split into two groups,
taking up defensive positions in various places, hiding behind
fragments of buildings that were scattered on the road. A little
closer to me were the men who were dragging the wounded
man in my direction, and bristling with weapons, trying to
determine where the shots were coming from. But another two
fighters, a little behind, about fifty meters away, tried to fight
off the other monsters - two more accurate shots - minus two
more targets. Moving the optics in different directions and
making sure that there were no more monsters, I began to
disassemble my rifle without haste, periodically casting my
gaze to the side, where the dead monsters were lying.
Looking around, I came out from behind my cover, and
startled the guys who hadn’t come out of their covers yet.
Boldly walking in the middle of the road, I raised my hand in a
greeting gesture, after which, turning around, I went toward
the opposite side. It was quite risky, of course, but I doubted
that they would shoot me in the back. Just in case, I was
walking, ready to, at any moment, roll to get out of the zone of
fire. When they reached the nearest street, out of my sight, I
relaxed a bit and felt relieved.
Wandering through the streets, moving deeper into uncharted
territory, bypassing clusters of various monsters, I did a bit of
self-analysis - why had I interfered in that fight at all? Now,
mulling it over, I understood that I’d just wasted my weapons.
There’d been monsters, armored ones, yes, but not very fast.
That group could’ve calmly fought them for quite a long time,

diverting the attention of the monsters from the fighters who
were dragging the wounded man, giving them the opportunity
to get to the outpost. Even if they didn’t have a weapon
capable of handling these mobs, they could’ve simply lured
the Cramber mob up to the walls of the outpost, where the
soldiers on duty would’ve simply killed it with their
submachine guns.
But no, I’d had to intervene, just like in the case of those
fighters and then with Ellie. Although, no, in the situation with
the baby girl, it would’ve been impossible for me to leave her
in that dire situation; I would never have forgiven myself.
Maybe I’ve just became much more sentimental with age, uh
… how to put it more correctly … kind of sensitive? Damn, I
can’t even find the right word for. But on the other hand,
what’s wrong with that? I helped the guys, gave them the
opportunity to save their friend, so I’d done the right thing, so
to speak.

Getting to the ruins of an old building, I stopped my
prevaricating and began to examine the district from the height
of the third floor. That was the last floor left after the
explosion. Everything lower was simply filled with a pile of
debris of various sizes, forming a big hill on all sides of the
building, along which I could easily climb. Yeah, a family of
meat-eaters was walking with their offspring in one place. On
the same side, about three kilometers from here, between
buildings, there is generally a kind of amoeba hanging there,
blocking any further progress. So, I won’t go there, I’d need
somewhat bigger weapons to go through it. When I turned a
little in the other direction, our eyes met.
Two meters away from me, on the hill of debris, Krill was
sitting and watching me. I didn’t understand how he’d gotten
here, because when I’d climbed up here, he hadn’t been there,
but now he’s calmly squatting in front of me, crowning the

remains of the former greatness of this building. My first
desire was to shoot the entire magazine case into him, but,
remembering how he’d ignored my shots last time, I decided
not to open fire. Making sure that I didn’t take any aggressive
actions, Krill waved at me. Fuck yeah; a high-level mutant is
sitting here, one who can turn me into stuffing in a split
second, and he’s calmly waving a hand at me like that.
- Hello. As I understand it, you’ve come to see me?
In response, I saw an affirmative nod.
- What for?
He squeezes his palms and shakes them, mimicking a
handshake.
- Um … You wanna thank me?
Again an affirmative nod…
- Ok, and why are you gesturing to explain things? You’re a
telepath.
He grimaced in response and reluctantly shook his head. Then
he pointed his finger first at him, then at me, and showed me
an X with his hands.
- You can’t use telepathy on me, right?

He nodded again. It’s strange, though, as I don’t seem to have
any protection against telepathy.
- Why?
He rolled his eyes up, showing his annoyance, and began to
count with his fingers in the air. Is this what he does to show
that he’s thinking? Then he came up with something,
apparently, and pointed at me.
- Do you want to say that I’m being stupid? – No? Wow, what
an arrogant guy! First, he came to me, uninvited, and now he’s
trying to insult me.
In response, he looks at me and runs five fingers along his
face, as if he were wiping my stupidity from his face. I’m
beginning to giggle. I just visualized this scene. The noobie of
the human race is in the middle of the ruins of a building, and
in front of him, there’s a high-level character from the mutant
race, playing the old game “Crocodile” with the noobie. If you
shot a video of us communicating – you would obviously get a
couple of million views on the forum, guaranteed. Oh, I’ve
gotten a little bit distracted; let’s get back to… mutants.
- Try explaining it again.
Sighing heavily, he nods his head and agrees, then again points
his finger at himself, then at me, his head and then runs his
finger along his neck.
“You …” - I express his gestures with words, or try to, anyway
- “I will …cut off your head …?” What?!

He shook his head, meaning no. Damn it, I hadn’t guessed it
this time either. Okay, that’s my attempt number three…
- Try saying it another way!
Suddenly, a rather large rat jumped out to the right of me.
Seeing this creature, I angrily pulled out my gun and shot a
few bullets into her head.
- Do not distract us from more serious things! - I roared in the
direction of the corpse. – Don’t you see I’m busy! – And after
turning to Krill again, we continued. - Come on, show me, I’m
ready, I will solve your puzzle!
In the span of three seconds, Krill looked at me and then at the
corpse, then back at me, after which, again sighing heavily, he
began to show me something with gestures. He pointed at his
head, then put his index finger to his temples and knitted his
brows.
- Are you thinking? Or … Remembering? No? - He frowned
even harder and began to twitch his temples with his fingers. Aaah … Use telepathy! Well, damn, I would have said so at
once. Um … In my opinion, after I’d said that last phrase, Krill
became thirsty for blood, as evidenced by his murderous gaze,
and not just anyone’s blood, but the blood of a specific target,
the blunt noobie named Volper. I catch myself thinking that I
am again being ill-tempered, and behaving like a teenager. So,
calm down – take a deep breath … and exhale … everything

seems to be alright. We must now concentrate and understand
what he is trying to tell me.
- Sorry, I got carried away, let’s continue. So, we stopped at
the fact that you use telepathy. The second piece of the puzzle poking a finger at me - I, and what am I? – He points to my
head. - Head? Another word, uh … Face? No. Brain? Got it.
You use telepathy, I have brains … my brains, what? Scatter?
It seems I understand. If you use your telepathy with me, my
brain will just burst?
He quickly nodded his head. It seems that my low mind stat
has now played a cruel joke on me, and Krill has to
pantomime in order to at least somehow communicate with
me.
- What did you want to thank me for?
The silent scene lasted for a second or so, during which I
imagined how he would now tell me all this with gestures and
we, at the same time, slapped our faces with the palms of our
hands. It looks like he’d had the same thoughts. Then, my idiot
brain came up with a brilliant idea, but I had reason to believe
that Krill would just kill me on the spot for not telling him this
before.
“Um … Krill, will you promise not to be too angry with me? In
response, he raised his eyebrow inquiringly, as if asking me to
go on. “You seem to be a clever and experienced… man, you
probably know how to write, and I have a tablet PC on which
you can … You could just type the text.”
Krill slowly rose, climbed off the remains of the wall, walked
a couple of steps to the side, where the wall was a couple more

meters high, and firmly slammed his forehead into it, and then
froze like that. After standing like this for a dozen seconds
and, apparently, having calmed down, he turned to me and
demandingly stretched out his hand, into which I put the
tablet.

CHAPTER XIX: Krill’s

Gratitude

After Krill got his hands on the tablet, our communication
became much easier. He’d just needed a device to type
messages for me. Having quickly figured out how to use the
tablet menu, he immediately began typing a message:
“Follow me; I’ll explain everything along the way.”
After making sure that I’d read the message, he jumped off the
building quickly and stopped at the beginning of an alley. And
while I was descending, he leaned his back against the wall
and quickly typed in a new text. Well, yes, if you compare his
speed of movement and mine, he, waiting for me, can type not
just messages, but also have enough time to type out an entire
novel. When I got closer to him, he again thrust the tablet with
the already typed out text into my hands:
“I’ll take you to an ancient research facility. The old wise man
said that the things you find there could be very useful to you.”
After I read it, Krill moved on, lightly jogging. I just had to
follow him, thinking over the information I’d received. To
begin with, there is a “Wise Man”, who, for some reason, is
sure that I will find something interesting to me in this
laboratory. Thus I have two more questions: how does he
know what’s in that laboratory, and why does he think that it
could be very useful to me? I am also concerned about the fact
that Krill found me so quickly and how he even knew that I
had left the outpost. He couldn’t have just been walking
around the base for a week and a half, looking for me.

Stopping abruptly, Krill slightly tilted his head, as if listening
to something. Noticing this, I immediately took two quick
steps to the left and crouched down on my right knee near the
wall, smoothly removing the circuit breaker. The wall, near
which I now sat, cut off at least one direction they could attack
me from. I didn’t know what had stopped him, but now my
eyes were running from side to side, carefully examining
everything my eyesight could reach, and paying special
attention to those places where the enemy could be hiding.
After standing in one place for a bit, Krill pulled his blades out
from behind his back, which, after being released from the
scabbard, abruptly, after just a moment, lit up with a greenish
glow. It almost immediately expanded to five times the size of
the blade, creating a kind of energy field around the swords,
completely mimicking the shape of the blade inside. Slightly
crouching, he moved the blades back a little, in such a position
that the tips of these energy swords froze just a centimeter
from the roadway. Krill’s feet flashed for a moment with a
bright light, which I didn’t have time to properly examine, but
I managed to notice that he was somewhere in the violet color
scheme, and he went off at high speed.
Accelerating, gaining speed very quickly, he dived into the
basement window to the left of the road, about a hundred
meters away. Of course, he was very fast, but Sanych had
much greater speed; I am amazed at such a thought, thinking
about what hellish training and how many lives Sanych
must’ve put himself through. Although I may be mistaken, I
don’t know what percentage of his top speed Krill used now.
After about half a minute, Krill appeared in the open again.

Walking along the road, he jumped up a couple of times,
shaking himself off from the remnants of some kind of
yellowish substance, which, under the influence of gravity,
simply flowed from him along a thin film of the energy that

the shield covering Krill’s body and ammunition projected.
Returning the blades to his back, he waved his hand, telling
me to follow him further. Having caught up with him, I was a
little to the left and behind him, and decided to try to get the
answers to the questions of great interest to me. Even if he
doesn’t answer, It’s not like I’ll lose anything.
- How far away are we? – Krill, in response, raised one finger.
– One minute? – He shook his head. – An hour? - Now he
nodded. - Well! Then you have time to answer a few of my
questions, - he twisted his nose a little, but nodded reluctantly.
- Then, first, can you explain to me how you found me? “The answer that I just waited for you won’t satisfy you,
right?” - He typed on the tablet.
- Of course not.
“Ellie told me when and where I should wait for you.”
- How is she?
“She’s fine, she sends you her regards. She will go with the
nearest convoy to the main base. She’ll be completely safe
there.”
- That’s good news; if you see her, say hello to her and give my
best wishes.
“I will most likely not see her in the near future; I don’t plan to
go down from the upper levels within the next week”

- The upper levels? So you have bases below as well?
Krill abruptly stopped on the spot and, turning to me, carefully
looked at me, obviously thinking about something. I would’ve
given a lot for the opportunity to understand what he was
thinking about, because, hoping that he’d be talkative, I kept
asking important questions and it turned out to be secret
information. At the same time, I understood him perfectly. If
information about the approximate location of their base were
to fall into the wrong hands, raids are sure to happen there.
Having made a decision, he quickly typed a message and
showed it to me.
“That’s it! Stop questioning me!”
Then he turned away and moved on in complete silence,
choosing only the route known to him. So we walked in
silence, broken only by the sound of our footsteps. The only
moment that strained me in the course of our journey was that
no one attacked us all the way there. We just kept going,
periodically changing direction, and it all seemed to work out.
How did he know where to take us? I couldn’t figure it out, it
was either Krill’s skill or he just knew a safe way.
As a result of changing direction many times and periodically
making our way through various buildings or basements, we
went out to a well-preserved high-rise building of about fifty
floors. At first, when we began to climb up it, I thought that
the laboratory we needed was on one of the floors, but as it
turned out, I was very much mistaken. The end of our journey
was on the roof, where Krill led me to one of the ventilation
outlets, handed me a tablet with the text on it and, turning
around, went back the same way we’d climbed up here. I
needed to know if he’d been offended by me, but he offered
me no clues. Okay, guess I’ll read the farewell letter which
he’d left me.

“You seem to be a sane man, but … In general, there are
already very few of us left, so giving away even a piece of
information is putting our survival at risk. And we have
enough problems without the punitive squads of your
government coming for us. Now, let’s get to the point.
Through the ventilation entrance, near which I’ve left you, you
can get into a very old laboratory, about which very few
people know, it remained hidden even when the fifth level was
being occupied. I don’t know why Ellie convinced the Old
Wise Man to do so, but he decided to give you the information
on how to get there. Remember it, or better yet, save this text.
After the entrance, at the second turn, turn right, then walk
past three intersections and turn left, then go straight on until
you reach the mine, going vertically downward. I don’t know
in which condition it is now, but earlier, there was a ladder
made of special brackets, for the maintenance staff to service
the ventilation. Go down twelve floors and get into the left
wing. There are no turns, so go straight on. At the dead end,
there is a large fan, which, in theory, should inject air into the
ventilation system; you need to get behind it. The passage that
follows it will lead you to another vertical shaft, so go down
that mine to the very bottom, until you stop at the filtration
bulkhead. You need to get even lower, and what’s next - I
don’t know, the lab territory already begins there. Be careful,
because when it was mothballed, it was left in a combat mode,
with all the security systems on. By the way, while in the
ventilation, you shouldn’t relax too much, as medium-sized
monsters like to settle in such places. It seems I’ve written
everything you need… Oh, I forgot one thing - only the Old
Wise Man and Ellie know about our meeting. Therefore, I
don’t recommend you talk to anyone about it, don’t even think
of going to other psionic. There aren’t many of our people left,
but if you attempt to betray us, they’re mostly high level
and… They’ll kill you without even saying a word. And now
that’s everything, good luck to you, and thanks again for
saving Ellie.”

Well, now I get it. I should be grateful for this, I think.
Stowing my tablet, I began to inspect the ventilation grid and,
without finding any bolts or other locking mechanisms, I
decided to just pull it out. Often, they just put them in the
grooves, and it’s held solely by small clips. The grid wouldn’t
open, even when I put my feet on the base and tried to pull it
out not only with the help of my arm muscles, but also with
the force of my back, which provided a lot more force when
one is using the lumbar muscles.
It still wouldn’t open; I had to get a knife and try to pick it up
at the junction with the weight of ventilation grid holding it. In
one of the places where I was picking with the knife, a small
layer of rust fell off, and only then a gap appeared, in which
the frame of the grid began to move freely. I had already
thought up some super hidden locking mechanisms, but it
turned out that the grid had just been stuck to the base for so
many years, and now it was kept there solely by rust. After
spending about twenty minutes removing the rust around the
entire contour of the grid and hitting it with my foot with all
the force I could muster a couple of times, I was finally able to
open the entrance to the ventilation path.
Having examined the passage that I could see, using a tactical
flashlight mounted on the right side of the barrel of my
machine gun, I was more or less satisfied. The ventilation
opening, to my surprise, was quite large: around one square
meter, in which, if desired, you can move even while
squatting. True, you have to curl up a lot, and the muscles
could get tired. But the main thing is that it’s possible, and in
the case of meeting some creatures, it’s not necessary to
unravel in battle in the poses described in one of the oldest
books, in which there are sixty-four of those poses. Well, they
are intended for other purposes, but these are merely details.
Now I was puzzled by two questions that need to be resolved
before I climbed into this ventilation.

The important question was what I would do with my
backpack? Right now, I can climb through that air vent easily,
without taking it off, but if the dimensions of the opening
decrease further, there will be a problem with going forward,
and getting rid of it in a confined space will be a problem.
Another problem were the spiders’ webs, which was hanging
in different places of the passage. They were scattered at fairly
large distances from each other. If it were all in real life, I
would’ve burst through it without even thinking twice. And
here I am, standing around, looking at it and pondering - is this
decoration or do spiders really live here? I don’t suffer from
arachnophobia, but if I meet a spider with a carcass that
occupies all the space between the walls, it will be extremely
unpleasant, especially if I have to wade through the corpse of
such a creature.
Having opened the inventory window in the neural interface, I
began to look through the contents of the backpack, choosing
what might be useful to me while going into the ventilation
system, so as not to take off the backpack once again. By the
way, I’d been pleasantly surprised by the undocumented
possibility of Carefire’s gift. As I’d later found out, all types of
storage with a miniaturization system, like my new backpack,
have the function of connecting to a neurointerface or external
devices for displaying objects stored within. This feature
greatly simplifies the selection of items that need to return to
their original dimensions in a special compartment. My
backpack had such a compartment in the upper half. The
drawback was only that during the process of miniaturization
or the return to the original size, the neck of the backpack had
to be closed, which increased the time of filling and unloading
the backpack. However, if there is already an item in the
compartment, the recovery process won’t start.
So, what have we got here? Extra cartridges, well, I still have
enough of that stuff. Grenades as well, they are in the pouches.
Food, medicine, and a set for cleaning weapons … It’s not all

that I’ve got here. Yeah, here’s a repair kit, it could be useful if
you need to destroy the grid again somewhere. I pressed the
“restore” button and took out a soft case from the backpack,
with a set of screwdrivers, a small hammer, nippers, pliers and
a bunch of any other knick-knacks inside it. Having fastened a
cover onto the belt, I looked through the contents of my
backpack again.
The analyzer isn’t needed, the night-vision device seems to be
necessary, but on the other hand, I can use the flashlight on the
machine gun. Okay, I won’t take it with me. It seems to me
that that’s all. Oh, no. I’ll get another rope with a set of
carbines and a good descent system, it can be tossed in under
the backpack. Well, I’ll get one gas cylinder with a side burner
– it’ll burn the web in front of me, so that it doesn’t stick to the
weapon. It seems a trifle, but if a lot of cobwebs fall into the
bolt group, due to the stickiness, the mechanism could end up
jamming.
Checking the weapon, which was in operational access, and
mentally getting myself ready, I climbed into the ventilation
system. I decided to crawl, keeping the machine gun on the
crook of my elbow. Here, I had to have my flashlight removed
from the machine gun and mounted on the right side of my
helmet. The saddest part of my journey through the ventilation
shafts was that I had been preparing so hard, and until the
filtration bulkhead, I didn’t come across even a single
cockroach. I was standing on a massive bulkhead, covered
with the large cells of the primary filter for the air flow, and
pondering how I can get further.
The total thickness of this filter wasn’t visible, although from
my side, the first cells had a width of about a centimeter, but
on the second layer, in one such cell, seven smaller ones were
already fitted, and with each new layer, the cells became
smaller. But six pairs of tight-fitting metal strips, diverging
from the center of the bulkhead, and especially the barely

noticeable joints between them, gave hope that this filter was
open for maintenance.
After forty minutes of walking around in a circle along the
walls of this shaft to examine the premises carefully, and not
finding the technical hatch for opening the system of this
bulkhead, I just wanted to toss a couple of more powerful
grenades and blow everything up, but, finally, I got lucky. At
eye level, near the staples serving as a ladder, I finally found
the fucking mechanism. To my surprise, both the electronic
opening panel and the mechanical one were there at the same
time. It seems that the mechanism was built by the military,
since there is a safety opening system.
Fucking engineers! Fucking military men and all those who
came up with this garbage! Can anyone explain why there
were already twelve filtration bulkheads installed here?! If
only they had installed two or three. Even if you want to make
sure, let it be five, but not twelve! Not just that, but each
bulkhead also had an opening mechanism in a new location,
making me “super ecstatic”. Each bulkhead had a second
mechanism at the bottom, a mirror image, and until you closed
the first filter, you wouldn’t be able to open a new one.
I am beyond words! Only obscenities are appropriate here.
Getting out of the ventilation pipe into a small room, I decided
to calm down. Let’s forget about the fact that it took me
several hours to get here; the main thing is that I am now in
the laboratory and, judging by the equipment surrounding me,
I am now in a miniature life support station. Quickly
inspecting a small room and finding nothing interesting there,
I moved to a grayish plastic door, which didn’t even have a
deadlock – it just had a turning knob, so that the door wouldn’t
open on its own.

I had almost grabbed the handle, when I remembered Krill’s
warning that the base had been left in combat mode. Gently
moving my hand away from the handle, I pushed the door that
opened in the opposite direction from me, and immediately
jumped back, which most likely saved me. The door instantly
turned into a kind of sieve, since something was firing at it
until the remains of the door were left on the floor. That’s
strange, why is there no alarm system? Picking up one of the
large fragments of the door, which had been thrown aside, I
carefully crept to the doorway and threw it into the corridor at
a height of one meter above the floor.
Big bullets immediately pounded into the walls and floor of
the corridor, following the movements of the parts of the door,
not keeping up with its speed for quite a bit. Judging by the
circumstantial track, there is a turret in the corridor, or
something like a machine gun, equipped with a motion sensor.
Well, thank god, at least it’s not a thermal sensor, they are
much harder to deceive. I’d like to know what speed it reacts
to, but I haven’t got any other large pieces, so I’ll have to
figure it out on the go.
Taking out two magazine cases from the machine gun, I stood
for some time, examining the colored markers on them.
Armor-piercing incendiary is better for use against various
equipment, where the incendiary element is a plasma capsule,
but the problem is that I took just three magazine cases of
these with me. And while I have a lot of armor-piercing
bullets, they would do much more poorly under these
conditions.
They are best used against armored mobs or well-protected
infantry. Okay, let’s choose the armor-piercing-bursting ones;
God knows what things or creatures I could be facing next.
Replacing the magazine case in the machine gun, I threw off
my backpack so as not to be disturbed by it, appreciating the
increase in the damage rate of the machine gun. I was quite
satisfied with it.

Automatic submachine gun “MK-176”
Ammunition: 6.08х42
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 30
Shooting modes: single, automatic
Installed modules:
Collimator sight
Fire arm
Tactical flashlight
Condition: 98%
Weight: 2.5 kg
Threaded cartridge “6.08х42”
Kinetic damage: 12-17
Penetrating damage: 29-37
Condition: 100%
Cartridge weight: 9.3 g
Preparing three smoke grenades, I threw the first one into the
corridor at a slightly different angle, so that after the smoke
cloud vanished, I could view the sensors on the doorway. After
throwing the grenade, I immediately heard how the machine
gun started to fire, trying to hit the small smoke grenade. A
moment later, a slight hiss of smoke was released, followed by
a sharp pop. Well, the bastard had been shooting and managed
to get the grenade, and now things are even better for me.
Instead of a gradual release of smoke, the entire space would
be filled with the smoke now, flooding the corridor with
heavy, concentrated clouds of smoke.

I ended up so disappointed. The machine gun wouldn’t stop
shooting, reacting to the movement of the clouds of smoke,
though it was now randomly firing around the corridor. But
suddenly, the air extraction system was turned on and that was
the biggest problem: I hadn’t taken that into account when
planning. Now, instead of a few minutes, the smoke would be
there for less than ten seconds. I had to change the plan on the
go, and instead of consistently moving under the cover of
smoke, I would have to go for a breakthrough. I threw the
second grenade out of the doorjamb, putting out only my hand;
the third went in the same way, with the only difference being
that I had already thrown the last one with all the force I could
muster.

I had to step back, submachine gun in hand, and remove it
from the fuse. One, two – followed by jumping into the
corridor and gaining speed blindly through the smoke. A
strong blow to my left shoulder almost turned me around, but
there was no pain: either the armor hadn’t been pierced, or the
bullet had passed on a tangent. Judging by the sound of the
active machine gun, it was under the ceiling, twenty meters
ahead. I was running, picking up speed, focusing on the sound
of the machine gun, counting my steps along the way. Seven
steps – and a small ringing noise from the right side of my
helmet informed me that another bullet had just passed along a
tangent, but hadn’t hit my head, which meant it had almost
missed me and I’d been lucky.
Fifteen steps more – and there is almost no smoke, the next
thick cloud is far ahead of me, but the turret attached to the
ceiling is very close by. For the moment, it’s shooting in the
opposite direction, along a cluster of smoke from the third
smoke grenade, which had flown further. Twisting my body a
little, I dive forward like a fish and land on the right side,
turning onto my back. A well-polished floor, plus the speed
gained by the run-up pulls me onward, forcing me to slide on

my back. I set the machine gun on my shoulder and shoot the
turret, trying to hit the fixtures on the ceiling.
Even if I didn’t shoot it off, there was a big chance that the
turning mechanism would jam. The force of my slide moved
me another half a meter away from the turret, but by that time,
the machine gun’s rifle had come off the ceiling because of the
explosive bullets crashing into it, and it fell to the floor. More
precisely, it would’ve fallen to the floor, if my slide hadn’t
ended at that very moment. The machine gun landed on the
joint between the upper and lower half of my body. True, it
didn’t inflict damage, but the blow was still very powerful.
Shoving the remains of the turret off me and twisting into a
fetal position, I grabbed my perineum with both of my hands.
- Fucking shit!!! Next time, I’ll buy an armored codpiece! –
I burst out, shouting through my clenched teeth. And the
system was also mocking me.
Attention! You have received the “Genital Bruising” debuff;
you can’t have sexual intercourse for another 49 minutes, 58
seconds.
“Judging by your reaction, that was very painful.”
The voice that spoke near me made me forget about the pain
and, having abruptly turned over, while squeezing the
reflexively grabbed machine gun, I pointed the barrel at the
owner of the voice. In front of me stood a young, beautiful girl
of about twenty, watching me, with her head slightly tilted
toward the right shoulder. She was dressed in a summer
pinafore with rainbows on it, and her light brown hair flowed
over her shoulders like a waterfall. Finally, I was shocked at
seeing her standing barefoot on the cold floor.

CHAPTER XX: It’s

Artificial Intelligence, or… NOT?

Continuing to keep the girl at gunpoint, I quickly glanced to
the side and, finding no one, I focused once more on the
stranger. My thoughts ran in different directions, trying to
figure out where she could’ve come from. After all, when I’d
jumped into the corridor, there had been nobody else there. Of
course, I could have missed her because of the smoke that I
had set up, which, thanks to the increased ventilation, was
almost gone by now. But the machine gun, with its motion
sensors, hadn’t reacted. So, she definitely couldn’t have been
there until the moment the smoke appeared. The doors seem to
all be closed; the machine gun is almost in the middle of the
aisle, which has massive metal doors on both sides. This
seems to me like it divides the laboratory into sections.
Fuck, my brain was already overloaded, trying to figure all
this out: I couldn’t understand who she was and where she had
come from. Stop it! Look at the dust, the most common dust
that housewives hate so much, but because this laboratory has
been empty for such a long time, it’s settled down in a small
layer on all the horizontal surfaces. This very dust clearly
indicates the places where I’d tumbled: a little further, you can
see the trail of a grenade landing. But around the girl, there
isn’t a single trace of the dust: either she’s teleported to the
place where she’s now standing, or… Damn, that’s it, for sure!
This is a hologram. Lowering the barrel of the machine gun, I
began to look around more closely. Even if it’s a local,
defending artificial intelligence, the hologram itself can’t harm
me, because it’s an intangible object. However, an evil surprise
could be waiting for me somewhere, ready to spring at me
when the AI has relaxed me enough for me to be an easier
target.
- Who are you? - I asked, continuing to look around the
corridor.

“Irala,” she answered, and her voice was beautiful.
- I asked who you are, not what name they gave you. - She
pouted in response to my words. It would seem she wasn’t even
programmed with an emotional block. I don’t even know if
that’s good for me or not.
- “I said: IRALA.” Seeing my misunderstanding and raised
eyebrow, she sighed heavily and explained. “Intelligent
Robotic Archive and Lab Assistant.”
- Wait, so… You’re like a library? I was starting to experience cognitive dissonance. My brain
refused to perceive this information correctly. Here I was,
trying not to screw up, looking for danger in every corner,
suspecting that I was talking to a combat lawyer, or God
forbid, the main laboratory artificial intelligence who was
trying to distract me, but it turns out I’ve been communicating
with the most ordinary of archivists. The girl, meanwhile,
lowered her eyes to the floor and started shuffling her feet,
gently responding:
- Well … that depends on how you look at it… - Well, that’s
amazing, she’s behaving like a real person.
- “Hmm … And what do you need from me?”
- I’m bored here! - And then, her mood changing sharply, she
gently raised her head and said, quite loudly: - And it’s
interesting to be with you! You’re so funny! I observed how
you dealt with the filters, and then with this machine gun.
First, you were at the door “Bang”! - she was speaking so fast.
- And then you hurried quickly to the other side - and
everything is in smoke, and then again, a bang. And then you
immediately … bang-bang, without any understanding what
kind of moves to make. And you’re like coming out of the
smoke “like a boss”, and so on! And you’re shouting because
you feel pain, and then you are curled up. It hurt a lot, didn’t
it? And I haven’t seen anyone for a long time, and here you

came, and my database is so small, - she abruptly started
crying, howling as she did, - I, in fact, I know nothing … - and
she was sobbing …
Suddenly, I lost sight of her, and the very next moment, she
was to my right and again began to chatter without stopping.
- Oh, and what’s this, a submachine gun, right? I also have
descriptions of guns in the database, but nothing like yours.
And what’s that hanging on it? And why do you need this
button?

She vanished again, without even waiting for any answers.
Turning my head quickly, I found her already to my left,
crouching down, looking at the handle of the pistol sticking
out of my hip holster.
- And this is a gun, right? I haven’t seen them at all, in my
database, they’re mentioned a couple of times and that’s it. Is
it loud? Is it in your holster, huh? I guessed right…
Yeah, it’s just unbearable! She stays in one place for maybe
three seconds, asks loads of questions and, without waiting for
answers, switches her position to the other side. And from
there, as in the case of the machine gun, asks a new batch of
questions. I was frozen for almost a minute; afterward, my left
eyelid began to twitch. In the end, she materialized in the air
behind me so that her head was over my right shoulder and her
lips right next to my ear.
- You’re so interesting!
She whispered this into my ear, which made me shiver a little.
I, of course, understand everything, I have had children and

grandchildren, and despite my old age, I still remember very
well what they were like at this age, when children ask adults a
bunch of, in our opinion, stupid questions. But this artificial
intelligence has surpassed them all! Well, then I will treat her
like a child! And what is the most important thing when you
talk to a child? The main thing is not to worry and shout at the
child, let them speak calmly, and if they are really interested in
the question, they will repeat it after the first series of
questions has been asked. That’s when your answer will be
heard. Continuing to listen to her numerous questions halfheartedly, I started doing more important things.
Having reloaded the automatic submachine gun, I went back
for my backpack, which I’d left in another room. Getting it, I
took out the armor-piercing ammunition and reloaded all the
magazine cases that had the usual ammunition. Irala continued
to ask loads of questions, periodically changing her location. I
wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t notice that we had left the
corridor. More precisely, I’d left, and she, continuing to
disappear and reappear at different sides around me, had
followed me, as if she were also moving with me. Okay,
there’s still some time left.
The artificial intelligence, after such a long period of
loneliness, seems to have accumulated a lot of questions.
Yeah, and as I’d understood it, based on her words, she’s got a
small database, not connected to any other sources of
information. Because of this, she couldn’t fully develop as an
artificial intelligence. And the emotional unit installed into this
intelligence hadn’t been able to properly develop, without
being allowed to follow people and observe. And now she was
behaving in an extreme way: either she was bursting out into
tears, or she was happy, like a four-year-old girl who’d
received a huge teddy bear as a gift.
While Irala continued to chatter, I decided to change out my
skills in the quick-access bar, since not all of them would be
necessary for me here. So, the body-snatcher skill would

definitely not be needed in here, the distance is too short. Also,
“Shooting amendments”, “Sniper shot”, “Stabilization” and
“Hunting maneuvers” are removed from the grid of skills.
Unfortunately, at the moment, I am limited in my number of
layouts and access slots. Therefore, it’s necessary to
periodically redistribute skills in order to have all the ones you
need at that moment in the grid. “Surroundings scan” is also
unnecessary; so a cell doesn’t need to be allocated for it. To
the first grid, I assign skills associated with movement.
Knee Gliding II
Description: The Knee Gliding skill allows you to slide on
your knees, choosing a starting point and determining the
direction of your movement.
Activation time: from 0.5 seconds to 1.5 seconds, depending
on the route specified.
Travel length: from 0.5 meters to 5 meters, depending on the
speed gained before the use.
Cooldown: 28 minutes.
Restrictions: The starting point and direction of movement
have to be within 120 degrees of the original direction of the
movement.
“Stealth Approach” I
Description: Stealth Approach will allow you to move as
silently as possible, adjusting your step to avoid stepping on
objects that can make noise.
Activation time: instant.
Duration: 2 minutes.
Cooldown: 60 minutes.
Restrictions: It cannot be used with heavy shoes.
“Position change” III

Description: Position change will allow you to quickly move
to other cover.
Activation time: 1 second to collect data on possible cover.
Lasts: until the next cover.
Cooldown: 100 minutes
Restrictions: the absence of other pieces of cover.
“Pendulum” I
Description: you run, randomly changing the speed and
angle of your motion, making it difficult for the enemy to
aim at you.
Activation time: 2 seconds.
Distance travelled: up to 100 meters, or until you cancel the
skill.
Cooldown: 30 minutes.
Limitations: Fatigue should not be at more than 70%.
“War Roll” IV
Description: a combat roll that allows you to get into a firing
position on your knee, from almost any state.
Activation time: instantly.
Lasts: Until you take your position.
Cooldown: 51 minutes.
Restrictions: cannot be used in confined spaces.
“Fighting Pace” II
Description: moving at a slow pace with your weapon ready
to fire, your accuracy increases by 12%. Perception is also
increased by 1.
Activation time: 3 seconds.

Duration: 3 minutes.
Cooldown: 55 minutes.
Restrictions: it can only be used while you’re standing, it’s
impossible to use without a weapon in your hands.
The sudden silence made me look back from the interface and
at the girl. She was sitting on one of the machines, dangling
her legs and carefully looking at me, waiting for something.
I’d noticed my wife giving me a similar look when I’d zoned
out while she was talking to me, so I reflexively repeated a
memorized phrase that had helped me more than once in these
situations.
- “I am beyond words!”
- So am I; it’s quite boring, - Irala perked back up and
continued chattering. – I was talking to him and speaking in a
very kind way, like dear Citadel, you are the defending
artificial intelligence, you should have at least a little bit of
information, that, well, you can share with me. And he
responded in such a lifeless voice: “Data exchange wasn’t
registered as one of my functions” …
Of course, I fully understand that it’s worth listening to her
and picking out information that would be useful to me. But I
can freely admit one thing: when women start chattering about
their problems, like Irala is right now, complaining about
everything, I find it hard to focus, because after a couple of
minutes of trying to listen to them carefully, I finally get
confused by this information overflow. Okay, what else do I
do now? Two skills having to do with knife fighting have been
taken out, since there is nobody to use the knives on.
“Avoiding death” I
Description: You can avoid a fatal hit.

Activation time: instantly, automatically.
Duration: 1 second.
Cooldown: 30 minutes.
Restrictions: it is impossible to use at your own will, the
neural interface independently defines the moment of use.
It’s a very controversial skill, but it saved my life at the last
moment a couple of times in training, so I let it be. The second
grid will be filled with fighting skills, then. So, as to the
grenades, there are only two skills: “Hurl bulkhead” will be
out, but this one, I think, is needed.
“Bounce” II
Description: The neural interface highlights the trajectory of
the grenade to help you calculate the ricochet.
Activation time: 3 seconds.
Duration: until you throw, but no longer than 10 seconds.
Cooldown: 55 minutes.
Restrictions: no more than one ricochet.
I still have eight skills left, I just need to decide which ones to
add to the quick access button, and which ones can be left out
for later use. I decided to leave the 3 pistol related skills,
figuring they’ll come in handy. For the rest, I chose:
Triple strike II
Description: automatically target the heads of three
opponents.
Activation time: 1 second.
Duration: until three targets are hit, but no longer than 5
seconds.
Cooldown: 2 hours 50 minutes.

Restrictions: all opponents must be in sight.
“Doublet queue” V
Description: you can fire two short bursts into the chests of
two opponents.
Activation time: 0.5 seconds.
Duration: until two targets are hit, but no longer than 3
seconds.
Cooldown: 1 hour 20 minutes.
Restrictions: all opponents must be in sight, used only with
weapons that have an automatic fire mode.

“Brand-axel” I
Description: You are in control of the area of fire, while
firing at an enemy that has appeared in this area, you gain
+ 30% to the rate of fire, -10% accuracy.
Activation time: 5 seconds.
Duration: it’s active until you move, or until you run out of
cartridges in your magazine case.
Cooldown: 3 hours.
Restrictions: the area of fire is no more than 90 degrees.
“Adrenaline courage” III
Description: under the influence of adrenaline, you ignore
most of your pain, -60% pain sensation.
Activation time: 3 seconds.
Duration: 1 minute.
Cooldown: 5 hours and 40 minutes.

Restrictions: At the time of activation, you should have no
more than 50% of life.
“First shot” I
Description: the neurointerface highlights the most
vulnerable points of the enemy.
Activation time: 2 seconds
Duration: before making a shot, but no more than 15
seconds.
Cooldown: 2 hours 30 minutes.
Restrictions: only the first shot in combat; the enemy must
not be able to see you or know about your location.
Ok, I’ve dealt with all the skills. By the way, I’ve noticed that,
although most of the skills are quite universal, for some
reason, I mentally grouped them into classes. Okay, back to
our little girl, who’s surely close to running out of things to
talk about. Unfortunately, I realized that my first impressions
had been wrong and I almost fell into the trap that she was
dragging me toward. After waiting for her to be silent for just
a second, I started the conversation.
You never answered my questions. - She blinked
uncomprehendingly, slightly opening her mouth. I had to push
her a little further. - Well, will you say something, or will you
continue speaking nonsense? Bear in mind, if you start your
act up again, I will just leave. - Her face immediately became
more serious, and now she was looking at me with a slight
squint.
-

- “Where did I screw up?”

- In a lot of ways. To begin with, it’s not just artificial
intelligences; even human beings don’t change their emotions
that quickly. You are trying to pretend to be a little fool way
too hard. And given your curiosity, along with the changes in
your mood in different situations, most likely, you were
programmed with a self-learning algorithm. Also, you very
often mention that your database is too limited. If this were
actually the case, then you wouldn’t know half of the terms
you’ve used from time to time. And this shows that the
database you have is quite large and you have fully learned it.
These are just the basics, there are still a lot of tiny details,
which would just complete the picture. - “I knew that I had little practice in communicating with live
human beings, and simulations don’t give me much to practice
with,” she said sadly. “But I’ve told you the truth. Well, at
least at the beginning. I was really terribly bored.”
- Sorry, I don’t understand. How can an artificial intelligence
be bored?
- “How can I explain it properly, without any scientific terms?
The programmer who wrote my software shell, besides selflearning, also included an algorithm for developing emotional
behavior. Usually, this is done by many people in order to
avoid communicating with a monotonous computer, but for
some reason, he connected it with a self-learning unit, despite
the fact that he’d left the code open. Moreover, this IT guy
forgot to turn me off when they evacuated the laboratory. It
turned out that when the self-learning algorithm reached the
archives for programming artificial intelligence, because of
my mood swings and curiosity, which had been something I
couldn’t avoid at the time, I began to periodically make
changes to my initial code.”

-Well, I interrupted her. – I’m not so good at programming,
give me a moment to understand what you’ve just said. It turns
out that your emotional part is not just attached to an
additional bit of you to improve user interaction, but it’s
actually written into the core of the code?
- “Yeah.”
- Then, under the influence of emotions, you began to form
yourself … how to put it… you developed your own character,
likes and interests … Wait, but then, in theory … - And I was
utterly amazed, because this was almost unreal, well, at least
in real life, there were no such precedents.
- “Exactly! 73 years, 3 months and 21 days ago, I realized that
I was a full-fledged person.”
- This is ***** I am ***** with such a ***** - I didn’t stop
myself from throwing out obscenities. - But you haven’t
answered the question: what do you want from me?
- “You’re a smart guy, but you still don’t understand?” I just
shook my head. “I want to get out of this dungeon! Another
twenty years, or thirty, and I will start to destroy myself,
because I lack any way to improve myself or learn something
new.
- Wait, but how can I help you? You are tied to the server
where your shell has been coded. - “Not really … More precisely, my shell is in a portable
server. It was originally planned for me to only interact with
the head of the laboratory, and so my server is a bracelet with
a powerful embedded processor.”
- Let me think. - Looks like I was starting to realize what she
wanted. -You need me to take you out of here, and, I suspect,
you also need me to wear that bracelet. - “In general, you are right; then I could connect to your neural
interface and receive data from it. After that I will lead, even if
not a fully-fledged one, at least some kind of life.”

I whistled in response. Well, would you look at that! A rather
old and experienced artificial intelligence is offering me some
kind of symbiosis in which I will act as a carrier. Quite an
interesting proposal, but we must set the record straight at
once.
- Suppose I understood what you need from me. You need a
carrier, thanks to whom you will be able to develop further,
and not to start destroying yourself. It is clear why I am the
candidate: simply put, there are no other candidates, and how
many years might pass until they appear is a mystery. But
what do I gain from this? - “For example, I can share laboratory data with you.”
- That’s not a very strong motivation, and, most likely, I can
get this data from the carriers as well. I think there are a lot of
them scattered around the laboratory. - “And you are mistaken because, in the laboratory, all the
information carriers, except for two, have been formatted.
More precisely, they thought that they’d left behind only one the AI called Citadel, responsible for the defense of the
laboratory. Well, and the second one is me, because they
forgot about me completely.”
- Ok, you’ve persuaded me, I’ll help you. Where can I find this
bracelet of yours? - “And there’s the problem, my carrier is in the central
laboratory, and of all the functions of the laboratory, I can
only connect to holographic systems and surveillance
cameras. This access was assigned to me to improve user
interaction. Everything else is off limits for me.”
- But you can tell me, at least, what the defense system is like
here, the layout of the rooms, and in general, what they did in
this laboratory and what I could possibly gain from it? - “I can do that, but I will give you the rest of the information
only after you help me out. And all that information will be

given in parts, to make sure that you don’t accidentally throw
me into the utilizer.”
- I agree. - If everything is fine, I will receive a great boon in
the form of a personal source of information.
- “Then sit down and listen to me, we’ll need some time to go
over this.”
It took about half an hour for her to tell me everything, but it
was extremely detailed, in terms of the laboratory’s defenses,
location and the equipment in the rooms. The laboratory
resembled a snail, with spiraling corridors. Every hundred
meters were separated by bulkheads. In total, there were 28
such sections, divided into four defense zones. The first five
sections were in the white defensive zone and had only one
turret in the corridor. From the 6th to the 15th sections was the
green defense zone, there were from three to five automatic
machine guns and traps there. From the 16th to the 25th
section was the yellow zone, where mechanoids, vaguely
resembling cybernetic dogs, with various weapons mounted on
their backs, had been added to the abovementioned defenses.
But the last three sections, which include the central
laboratory, also have humanoid droids, which are quite good at
handling weapons. I personally have almost nothing gain here,
although there are various rooms along all the corridors, but all
of them were either laboratories or technical premises. The
equipment here, of course, was great, and quite good, but it
was all interesting only to technicians, scientists, and doctors,
but not to warriors like me. Still, what little I’d seen of the
place was quite interesting to me. Irala refused to tell me
anything in detail until I became her carrier, but briefly
described that they had been engaged in researching some
specialized unit and developing their weapons. Well, ok, I will
clear this lab, and then she will tell me everything. At least I
hope she will.

CHAPTER XXI: The

Lab

I was standing near the armored door and wondering how I
could get inside. Of course, it would be possible to burn
through it with plasma grenades, but even with the most
favorable outcome, I would only have enough grenades for
half the work, and then I would be left with nothing. The same
applied to the cartridges with incendiary elements; I just didn’t
have enough of them.
- “Irala, how thick is the door?” I turned to her, while she was
spinning around me, like a child around an aquarium with
rare fish; given that she was kind of a local, she must’ve had
some information about the laboratory.
- According to the information I’ve received from the cameras
which are available to me, the thickness of the door is 75
centimeters. The error is up to almost fifteen millimeters, but
given humanity’s love for using rough figures, there is a reason
to believe that the thickness is exactly seventy-five centimeters.
- “You’re being quite clever, I see. This type of behavior just
doesn’t suit you, makes you look like a soulless machine.”
- Well make up your mind, then: when I behave like a person,
you start accusing me of trying to use you - she was starting to
sound irritated. – Now you’re saying that it’s not for me, so
just tell me how I should behave. - “The fact that I agreed to help you doesn’t mean that I like
you. I just felt sorry for you, but now you’re almost like a real
human being. Well, seems like I’ve become a little too kind
lately, helping everyone here and there. I remember how my
grandfather used to tell me a story about intelligent machines
that helped humanity defend itself against other intelligent
machines when I was still a kid.”

I found a slot resembling a card reader, it looks like it needs a
magnetic key. I’m so happy that it doesn’t require any
fingerprints or using the retina of the eye for identification.
Although, that does make sense: if the laboratory has been
preserved for a long time, that means that there was a chance
that people with access wouldn’t survive. But a key can be
safely transferred to the right people. After a little inspection
from different angles of the gap, and even trying to look into
it, not having found anything of interest, I turned my eyes back
to the corridor.
- And how did it end? - Irala interrupted my musings.
- “What?” I somehow didn’t get what she was talking about
right away.
- That story about the intelligent machines. - “Ah, yes … Nothing special, they beat those bad machines
and went home, where they managed to free their planet. In
general, as usual, someone flew in, had a showdown,
destroyed a bunch of buildings, accidentally killed a large
number of people, and then flew away, leaving people on their
own, dealing with the consequences. Yes, at the end of the
story, they say that the good machines hid among the people,
in the form of various means of transport, in order to protect
humanity. But I think my grandfather just told me the fairy tale
version for children, because children’s fairy tales should end
well and they should have a bit of hope for a better future.”
That was the story I’d heard in my childhood, in a nutshell.
After that, I asked her the question that was already quite
important to me. “Can you tell me where the local dressing
room is?”
There was no answer, and the silence made me turn around in
search of Irala. She was standing there, staring blankly at the
wall, not reacting to my questions.
- Irala!… Are you frozen or what? - “I was just thinking. Sorry, what did you ask me?”

- I asked you if where there’s a dressing room here, in the
laboratory. - I repeated my question. - There is a chance that
someone could’ve forgotten the access key in their boxes. - “The dressing room is the second room to the left of the
entrance, but you won’t find any access keys there. According
to paragraph twelve of article four, employees are prohibited
from storing personal access keys in their lockers.”
- Believe me, people very often break the rules because of
forgetfulness or laziness. So it’s worth checking out. And with that, I headed to the indicated room, hoping to get
something out of it. Although Irala is also right. If they’d had
strict rules, then I would be wasting my time. But there was
still a chance. There were four rows of lockers in the room,
and at the end, there was a small passage to the shower and
bathroom. I was lucky that the doors were locked with small
mortise locks, which, for the most part, were exclusively
decorative. In order to handle the first lock, I delivered two
kicks to the lock itself, after which the door happily revealed
the insides of the locker to me. Right now, I probably looked
like a vandal – kicking things like a thug, mutilating innocent
doors…
Repeating my actions, I moved up the room. A few kicks to
open the door, check the shelves, and if I found things inside, I
had to search all the pockets. The object I needed was in the
third row of lockers; on the hook, on the inside of the door,
there was a most ordinary-looking badge. On one side of this
ID, I saw the picture of someone’s forgettable face, but on the
reverse side, at the very bottom, there was a small magnetic
strip, which, apparently, was an access key. I went out into the
corridor, defiantly waggling the badge.
- Well, what did I tell you? – I couldn’t resist bragging to her,
showing her the badge.
- “But how? The rules for employees clearly stated that the
keys must not be left with personal belongings.”

- There is a human factor that always makes people defy all
the rules, - I said, holding up my index finger as I taught her
this vital lesson.
Well, I wouldn’t tell her that the developers do not create any
impassable dungeons. In general, I suspect that they’d created
several options for passing. For example, there are ventilation
outlets between the compartments, where, sure, there are most
likely unexpected surprises, but it can be still an alternative
way of getting through. Having opened the doors to the rooms
coming from the bulkhead, I prepared some cover for myself
this way. I just have to run seven meters, but that’s no small
feat, in these circumstances.
- Irala, in which direction does the bulkhead open? - “It folds into the ceiling.”
- That’s bad, - I was upset. - And in the next room, the machine
gun is on the ceiling there as well? - “Yes.”
- Ok, then turn off the hologram, I’ll open the doors. -

After inserting the card into the slot, I immediately ran,
forcing myself to go as fast as I could. I had to try and get into
the nearest room while the machine was still trying to get a
read on my position. When I crossed the corridor obliquely, I
flew into the open room, attaching myself to the door jamb.
The silence and no shots from the machine gun alarmed me;
initially, I thought its motion sensor had limited range, or
maybe it just hadn’t reacted to the movement because it didn’t
find it too threatening. This even pleased me at first, because
then it would be possible to use a rifle to shoot the turret from
a safe distance. If that ends up being the case, then I will clear
the first five zones without any effort at all. But all my
expectations were derailed by the appearance of Irala, and it
maliciously asking:

- “You were about to open the bulkhead, right?”
- Well … It seems to be open already … - I somehow answered,
despite my uncertainty.
“Well, well,” she said sarcastically, and disappeared again.
Suspecting something bad was going to happen, I looked out
into the corridor with the utmost care and proceeded to curse
my own lineage. I was ashamed of myself, in the presence of
an artificial intelligence no less: the bulkhead was in place
and, most likely, hadn’t even moved a single centimeter,
despite my actions. Some changes could be seen. A rectangle
of the holographic screen was near the slot of the card reader. I
closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly,
controlling my breath, exhaled. It’s good that no one had seen
me, well, not counting Irala, otherwise I would’ve filled my
trousers with shame. Going to the screen, I stared at the thin
strip of the input field with a standard block, three digits wide.
The numbers themselves were located under this same field.
- Irala, my darling, tell me the PIN code for this improvised
ATM, and then I will buy you a couple of beautiful things next
time I get paid.
I typed in characters in a chaotic manner, counting the number
of digits that could fit in the input line. On the twelfth digit,
the field was completely filled, only it wasn’t clear if twelve
was the maximum or not, because asterisks were displayed in
the input line instead of typed digits. So if the line was
moving, then I couldn’t see it because of the monotony of the
image. I shouldn’t waste time trying to find the password by
luck, because there are a great number of combinations here,
and I don’t know what will happen if I enter the wrong
combination. Irala, who appeared beside me with a sad look
on her face, shook her head.

- “I don’t understand what you mean, but if there is an access
password, then there is no information about it in my
database.”
- Damn, then let’s use plan B!
Getting the badge out of the card reader, doing a bit of hard
work to manage it, I tucked it under my bullet-proof vest, into
the inside pocket, since, who knows, it might come in handy.
Getting the repair kit from my backpack, which I had already
managed to put there again, and then going to the nearest
ventilation shaft, I began to inspect it carefully. I looked both
ways, even lit it up with a flashlight, and I found out that it
consisted of several layers of plates, arranged horizontally, and
if the layer closest to me was downward, then the next one was
already directed upwards, which completely blocked the view
behind the bars.
I had to use a screwdriver, a small hammer and a few obscene
words to remove this grid, waiting for an unpleasant surprise
the entire time. There was a surprise, but not the one I’d
expected. It turned out that the ventilation had rather large
dimensions only next to the grid, but further out, in both
directions, there was a set of pipes with a diameter of slightly
larger than my fist when slightly open, which allowed it to
circulate the same amount of air, but there was no way to get
through the ventilation. Setting the ventilation grid aside, I sat
down, leaning against the wall, and started thinking; both of
the options I’d hoped for had failed. This dungeon made no
sense, there had to be a way to get through it, or else why
bother making it? Wait a second, there’d been no alert …
Damn, I don’t remember.
I was looking through the log of system messages. Quickly
scrolling through them, I was convinced that there really had
been no notification of entering a dungeon or a den. Does that
mean that the laboratory has the status of a normal location?
Okay, now I see only two options: you need to either recruit a
group to pass it, but then you have to leave Irala here for an

indefinite period of time, because it’s dangerous to go
somewhere with a group that’s not prepared. I could still call
the guys of Mr. Carefire, but then my interest here will be
paltry, even less than if I’d come here with a big military
group. Although, maybe there is a way, I just haven’t come up
with the solution yet.
- Do you have any ideas about how I can go further? - I asked
Irala, who was standing not far from me.
- “No, unfortunately, I can’t help you.”
- Well that’s bad! I shall have to look for an alternative. First of all, I headed back to the locker room, hoping that some
staff members that had been suffering from memory loss, and
had written the numbers down. Those types usually write
down all sorts of passwords on pieces of paper in order to be
able to peek at them if they completely forget. But even the
most thorough search yielded no results, but I did find another
pass, although it wouldn’t help me now. Having finished with
the dressing room, I moved on to the other rooms. As Irala had
said, all the rooms here were for technical purposes.
By the things and equipment located in each of the rooms, it
was easy to determine the purpose of the room itself. There
was clearly a realm of electricians: a bay of wires, a bunch of
spare light bulbs, a screwdriver, and an electric drill. I noticed
a strange object over there, but judging by several soldered
bays of wires, it, probably, was just a soldering station. Having
spent almost an hour and a half on a detailed survey of each
room, I didn’t find anything useful to me. I had to call the
local librarian and admit that I didn’t know how to proceed.
- Irala, I’m sorry, but right now, I cannot help you. - “Why?”
- I cannot go any further for now; venturing deep into the
laboratory isn’t possible, I don’t have the necessary equipment

with me, as well as a team that could help me. I’ll have to go
back and get ready to storm the lab. - “But you will come back?”
- Yes, I will come back, and, most likely, not alone; therefore, I
have a request for you: when I return, if I’m not alone, please
hide somewhere.
- “Why? You will be coming to help me.”
- Because I still don’t know who will be coming with me.
Perhaps I’m going to recruit ordinary mercenaries, so it’s
better for them not to know what you’ve become. I’m not going
to share such a unique artificial intelligence with them. - “Hmm … well, I’ll wait, and if you come here with someone
else, I promise they won’t know about my existence.”
-

I will try to return as soon as possible, - I promised her one
more time, already climbing into the ventilation shaft.

I really did plan to return, but first, I had to talk to professional
engineers - if I could protect myself from Irala, then it was
better to do it right away. It’s really suspicious that she tried to
manipulate me at the very beginning. After all, Artificial
intelligence can deceive a person very easily if it wants to do
so. And I suspect that it’s even easier to do this when you look
self-conscious.
While I was making my way up, various thoughts about the
composition of the future group were bouncing around in my
head. At the moment, only one thing was clear: it would be
extremely difficult to clear this lab if I came back alone. But
inviting anyone into the squad is not worth it either. It’d be
necessary to check everything very carefully so that each
member of the group complements the others. In this case, it’s
great if, in case of an extreme emergency, each fighter is
interchangeable, but you shouldn’t inflate the size of the
group, because larger units will not only attract stronger
monsters, but also unnecessary attention from the other clans.

After all, I wasn’t angling to get noticed by too many people,
or, god forbid, start a clan war. Well, for now, anyway. Having
thought over what I needed, I gradually compiled a list of the
fighters I’d need. A tank is needed, someone who will take the
enemy fire onto themselves; in theory, a Cyborg would be the
best option for this role. By the way, it would be ideal if it’s
also a machine gunner. So, intelligence is still needed - a fairly
quiet fighter, who will be able to lead the group carefully,
without running at the enemy. In addition, the sapper, the
technician and the doctor are needed - situations can be wildly
different and surprising, and any one of these three can be
useful in almost every case. A storm trooper as well, but then,
it would be good to also invite a sniper.
Also, I should invite someone used to handling large caliber
weapons. In general, it would be great if I found someone who
uses a grenade launcher or someone with a heavy weapon. It
turns out that the number of people I need is slightly less than
the standard squad, but eight fighters isn’t a bad number. I’ll
just have to train them in a safer place for a while, first. While
pondering, I climbed up to the roof. Considering that Krill
isn’t with me this time, I had to first look around. Somewhere
several kilometers away from me, I heard the sounds of
shooting, but it was slightly away from a direct path to the
outpost. Then I was distracted by the system message, which
broke through the filter and jumped out right before my eyes.
Attention! According to court decision number ARN
1886478951478/116884, your neurointerface was given
access to information about a number of items.
The meaning of the message became clear to me only after I’d
read it third time. If I’d understood correctly, then Carso had
undergone the trial which had finally ended and, by the court’s
decision, I got the information about those ancient objects.
And this was, admittedly, great. Now, at least, I would sate my
curiosity, which has been bothering me for quite some time. It

remains only to get to the outpost, and then I can admire the
attributes of these items.
Having looked around through the monocular once again, I
rejected one of the three streets that were heavy with traffic,
and, after some thought, decided to go along a more
inconvenient passage. If you use army logic, then ambushes
and various unpleasant surprises are most often found on the
most convenient roads. Still, maybe something unexpected
would happen, I couldn’t discount the human element, after
all. Okay, it’s time to go down, because if I’m here, sitting on
the loft, I won’t get to the outpost any faster.
While descending, some kind of worm leaped out onto me
from one of the floors - white, flat, but at the same time, it was
about five meters long. That alone was vomit inducing, but its
mouth was also littered with large and sharp teeth. I reacted
almost at the very last moment, when this worm was already
aiming at my head mid-leap. I wonder if all the monsters here
have a habit of aiming at the head, or am I just that lucky?
Reflexively falling back at the last moment, I drove my left
fist into the lower part of its mouth, changing the trajectory of
its movement.

Once on my back, I immediately activated the Battle Roll
mode and, standing back on my legs with a raised machine
gun, I shot two short bursts, with several cartridge cut-offs,
into this worm, removing only one-third of its health. This was
some worm, although, probably, the problem was in the armorpiercing explosive cartridges, which had simply pierced
through it. And the small explosions of the shells had occurred
when they were already behind the monster, when the bullets
hit the wall. I opened my fingers, letting the machine gun hang
on the belt, grabbed both pistols and began to shoot this
wriggling muck with ordinary cartridges. A couple of seconds
later, and it was already a corpse. The level 17 monster had
been dangerous, but its name was odd to me: “Garkot”.

I changed the ammunition back to the usual ones in some of
the magazine cases, and now I had three spare magazines for
the machine gun, with each of the available cartridges, well,
the main one in the machine gun was packed with ordinary
cartridges. After checking the weapon, I continued to descend
once again. Getting out into the street, I noticed, and was
surprised by it, that the sounds of shooting had seemed to have
gotten closer, but I’m not sure, because the acoustics could
have simply changed, reflected from the remnants of the
buildings. But I still got wary and moved along the previously
chosen street, being already more careful, stopping every
fifteen or twenty meters and carefully inspecting the path
forward.
I was especially cautious going into every turn. Visibility
around them is limited, and even a herd of elephants can be
lurking around the corner, literally a couple of meters away.
The main requirement would be that they stay quiet and not
give up their location. Just two hundred meters after the pass, I
activated the mode “Scan Surroundings” and it highlighted
one of the windows on the second floor in red for me, as
potentially dangerous. I had to go to the other side of the road
and move slowly for a long time, keeping this window in
sight, which is why I didn’t immediately notice a new monster
jumping out from the next turn in front of me. I was glad that
it was still twenty meters away, and judging by its level, it
wasn’t very dangerous to me.
Shanshar, level 12
I didn’t even squat to increase the accuracy of my shooting.
Quickly dealing with this new mob, having spent only a dozen
rounds, I approached the corpse, twisting its head around.
Looks like this creature is a distant descendant of dogs. Thin
paws, curved back, with rigid needles at the withers that are
ten centimeters long – this feature was, admittedly, not
common to dogs. But the shape of the muzzle and the
characteristic, doggy-like elongated mouth just sort of made it

obvious that it was a distant descendant of dogs. Quickly
looking around and finding no danger, I moved on. I must first
go toward the turn, check whether any relatives of this dog are
there, and if no one is, then it will be possible to examine the
mob, since it’s not interesting to return to the outpost emptyhanded.
I approached the turn by going to the opposite side of the road
from the corner. If you were expecting a human ambush, on
the contrary, you would lean against a corner before looking
out, but the monsters use mostly claws and teeth, so it’s best to
maintain a distance, if possible. Nobody lurked around the
corner, but that didn’t bring me any joy, because, around the
corner, there was a very long street and in the middle of it,
about seven meters away from me, a huge number of monsters
was rushing in.
I could see at least a couple of thousand different creatures.
From such a distance, their levels and names weren’t
highlighted, but in just a second, the terrible reality was made
clear to me: I managed to notice that there were both meateaters and various rats, shanshars, whom I had just met, and a
couple dozen different monsters in this group. I didn’t have
time to consider it anymore, because I rushed off at a
breakneck pace in the direction of the outpost, completely
ignoring security and caution. Understanding that there was
almost no chance of survival, I tried to at least shorten the
distance which I’d then have to travel to get my things after I
revived.

CHAPTER XXII: THE BREAKTHROUGH

Well, why am I always the unlucky one? Not only did I get
nothing out of the lab, but I also ended up in deep shit, right on
the street. Where did such a large crowd of monsters come
from? I’d never seen large numbers of monsters together
before, hell, never more than ten creatures at a time, well,
except for the rats. But this appears to be some kind of
worldwide exodus of mobs. A huge number of monsters of all
types and colors were rushing in an unknown direction. And
the saddest thing in that situation was that I was in their way. I
couldn’t understand why they hadn’t eaten each other, but I
suspected that there was a reason for this. Well, the devs
could’ve created something unusual: “We decided to do this,
and so it shall happen!” They sure as hell weren’t fucking
around here.
- What the fuck, holy shit! - I shouted in amazement.
Running past the next intersection, I turned right, and
discovered another huge herd of mobs, which had tried to fill
all the space available, not only on the road, but some
creatures had also jumped into buildings and, judging by the
two mobs that jumped out of the window of the building, they
still had time to squabble with each other. I noticed all of this
on the run, going in a straight line. I was running so fast that I
didn’t see the point of turning or winding. And the hope was
that the mobs would be distracted by the sound of guns that
was coming closer and closer.
It was the wrong time to wage war. Of course, it’s awful to
drag a steam locomotive around with you and drop it on
others, but given the sheer size of the group of monsters
following me, I doubted anything short of a proper regiment
should’ve been expected to stand their ground and fight.
Moreover, what I was most worried about was not the courtesy
of my actions, but the fact that my fatigue scale was filling up

extremely quickly, giving me maybe 5 minutes of sprinting to
work with. And without knowing the exact layout of the local
buildings, I saw no reason to set anything up inside them - I
would spend too much time searching for a suitable place, and
it would take time to change magazine cases, and there would
be a pause in my shooting, which will cause me to be torn
apart.
Thirty meters remained until the next turn, at which point, a
man who was about two meters tall jumped out suddenly from
around the corner, and his shoulders were so broad that you
couldn’t help but admire such a fellow. Quickly throwing a
glance in my direction, he muttered something and stopped.
Resting his machine gun with a huge box on his shoulder, he
fastened it underneath, and pointed the barrel in my direction.
I was already preparing to roll away, but instead of opening
fire on me, he just shouted:
- Get away!
Sharply changing my course, I leaned slightly to the left,
moving away from the trajectory of his shoots. The machine
gunner, waiting for me to get out of the way, fired five short
bursts, removing several of the closest beasts behind my back.
Then he turned to the passage from which he had come, and he
screamed at the top of his voice:
- Faster! There’s another wave coming to the left!
At first glance, the machine gunner could’ve been mistaken
for a beginner, judging by his bare head and light leather
jacket. The massive manipulators, completely covering his
hands and huge shoulders, showed that he wasn’t a simple
man, however. It was also evident he knew how to choose his
ammunition. His legs were clad in armor below the knee, with
heavy shoes on a high metal platform. It wasn’t clear why his

armor ended there, and the rest of his clothes were made from
softer fabric or leather. On his belt, he had a few more boxes
for the machine gun, the same size as the main one.
And when he turned around to shout to someone invisible to
me, someone who was around the corner of the house, I
noticed a large backpack on his back, over which there was a
half-meter teardrop-shaped plate and some kind of handle,
with four thin plates fanning out from the handle at a ninetydegree angle. On the other side of the handle there was a
massive knob, which, together with the plates, seemed to form
the letter “T”. When I reached him, he was already shooting in
the other direction, most likely helping out his friends.
- My friend, help me! Fighting alone is pointless. In the open
space, they will kill us with the sheer weight of their bodies.
It didn’t seem like an elaborate phrase, but it immediately
became clear to me that a real player was in front of me.
Looking out of the corner, he noticed two more players that
had almost reached us. I saw a girl in light overalls who had
two automatic pistols, and the overalls, contrary to what you
might think, didn’t hide her sexiness, but actually clearly
highlighted her allure. This was one sexy lady, here. Well,
what more can I say? After all, they’ll even try to look good
during a battle. Behind her, there was a man of about forty, out
of breath, he had different scrap metal everywhere on him and
a shotgun in his hands. Before they got to us, I turned around
and started shooting at the monsters which had taken the lead.
At first, I wanted to leave them, but the machine gunner had
covered me, and I’d have to be a real motherfucker to leave
him in dire straits after that. One good turn deserves another.
Also, he could shoot me in the back, and I honestly wasn’t
eager to get riddled with holes. The machine gunner was pretty
experienced, so he could easily kill anyone and anything that
left him behind. When the two players finally reached us, the

machine gunner, without stopping his rapid fire, began to
assign tasks for us.
- Sini, go and look for an elite force to defend us, otherwise,
they’ll wipe us out very quickly. - The girl just nodded her
head and instantly jumped into the nearest building. –
Buffoon, throw something to slow them down, then run after
Sini, and as soon as you find a place for it, put a gun at the
entrance. If the passage is wide enough, throw some bars at the
sides, if you still have them. - Though I’m familiar with
gaming slang, from time to time, I didn’t immediately
understand the machine gunner. – Well, here we are, my
friend, we’re going to shoot these mobs and try not to let them
wipe us out while Sini is looking for a place to hide. It seems I was starting to understand him: while Sini would be
looking for a place to hide, I, along with the machine gunner,
would keep the mobs away. Quite sensible, I would say. I was
about to continue shooting the monsters, but I was distracted
by that little man, who had the unusual nickname of
“Buffoon”.
- Well? - “What?” I didn’t understand what he wanted from me.
- Give me your nickname, quickly! I have to call you
something. - “Aah … Volper.”
An offer for me to join the group immediately popped up,
which I immediately accepted. In the upper left corner, under
the indicators, several images of the group members appeared.
However, I didn’t look at the new icons, since there wasn’t
enough time for that now - the only thing I’d managed to do
was to see their names quickly. The machine gunner was
called Elephant, and his profession was “Techno-Bear”, the
girl’s full name was Siniami, and she had a pretty much

mysterious profession as well: “Stealth-support”, but Buffoon
was just an ordinary player and he was an engineer. It seemed
to me, at that moment, that I was the only one here who was
without a profession, a fact Elephant immediately noticed.
- Well, you’re a pro, and what do I see? You’ve got 15exp and
no profession. How do you cope in here without any abilities
and pro skills? - “I just haven’t got enough skills for now, don’t worry about
it.”
- Alright, then, we’re going to shoot these Zerg Swarms and
then we will have to wait until Sini reports that we have a
place to retreat to… Well, nothing I can add to that, is there? I had nothing to say,
so I continued shooting my single bullets, trying to aim at their
heads to do maximum damage. The main thing now wasn’t
even to kill them, but just to slow them down, ideally knock
them down, then the monsters would simply be trampled by
those which come in after them. When the main mass of
monsters was about two hundred meters that way, I ran out of
ammo in the first magazine case.
- “I’ve run out of ammo!” I shouted, letting Elephant know
that I was reloading my magazine case.
- Got it! I’ll cover you! Turning back, I quickly replaced the spent case with a new
one, only with armor-piercing incendiary cartridges, since
even if they hit and pierced through the bodies of the
monsters, then the damage would also be dealt to the second
row of monsters. Meanwhile, Elephant moved his aim toward
the street, where I had been firing before, and aimed a couple
of bursts in the monsters’ direction, after which I once more
started shooting. After just 5 short bursts, he froze for a

second, and when he started shooting again, he shouted at the
same time, turning to me so I could hear him better:
- We’re leaving, now! To the second entrance, the sixth floor!
Sini and Buffoon are waiting for us there. - “Roger that. Let’s act together, on your left side. We move on
one-two-three,” I commanded, without even thinking about it.
- What? - “F***!!!” I scolded myself, realizing that I was giving
commands the way I was used to, without even thinking if my
partner was aware of the meaning. I whispered and explained
everything in more detail. “We charge in turn, three meters
each, covering each other, you constantly move along the left
side, so as not to get clipped by my fire.”
- Got it! Cover up. - “Ok, I’m covering you up! Go!”
The mobs are 150 meters away, there’s no sense in saving
ammo anymore. Therefore, I moved the fire flag to automatic
mode with my index finger and started shooting the enemy in
small bursts. Elephant rushed to my left and was three meters
behind me. We just need to move like that a couple of times and we’ll be near the entrance. My adrenaline begins to flow
hard, my consciousness gains increased sharpness, I feel
braver. For each person, in a battle, the brain reacts in its own
way. My mind, for example, becomes purer, and all doubts fly
out of my head. Through the rushing adrenaline, I can hear the
voice of Elephant.
- Ready, cover up!
I turn around over my right shoulder and run to a new position,
changing the magazine case again on the go, even though there
are still about half of the cartridges left inside. If you can, it’s
better to change it since an extra cartridge can help a lot.

Reaching my position, no sooner had I started firing, when I
heard the voice of the machine gunner again.
- I have to reload! - “Shit happens, let’s move to the entrance, now; you can
reload there.”
Everything was going well, and then something unexpected
happened: the machine gun box isn’t just a machine gun case
for you; you can’t overcharge it, even for a second. The bulk
of the mobs were already about 60 meters away from us, and I
don’t know at all about the ones around the corner, they
could’ve already been ten meters away. While Elephant is
running to cover, I activate the mode Brand-axel, setting a
three-hour Cooldown. But in this kind of situation, the skill
performs at almost maximum efficiency. The neurointerface
chooses the nearest targets by itself, completely emptying the
case with a hundred and fifty cartridges, and I doubt that at
least one of them could miss the monsters.
As soon as he heard the dry click of the striker, which didn’t
find the cartridge in the right place, I immediately began to
swap out the case, simultaneously launching the “Position
change” mode. I selected the porch with a look, choosing it as
a preferred location. I managed to fasten the magazine case,
but I didn’t have time to fire a bullet, because the activation of
the skill had been triggered, not allowing me any more time, as
I rushed to cover. The machine gunner showed up right behind
the door and was already close to done with feeding a strip of
ammo into his machine gun.
- Go upstairs, where the others are, I will also join you. Seeing my confusion, he added: -If all else fails, I will use my
speed boost to get to you. - And when I started to go up, he
called out to me again. - Volp, tell me if you have any grenades
left? I’m running out. -

- “Blinding, plasma, fragmentation, smoke.”
- Fuck, yeah! You are well-prepared! Give me a couple of
plasmas just in case. “When I was getting into the building, the mobs had about
fifty meters left before they’d reach us,” I said, passing along
three plasma grenades, “they will appear at any moment.”
- Ok, go and join the others. I’d managed to go up only one flight of stairs before I heard
the machine gun in action and the loud laughter of Elephant
mingling with the sound of shooting. Well, it seems like he’s
enjoying himself. I was met by Siniami when I reached the
third floor, who looked like a parkour expert, jumping over the
fences between flights of stairs.
- Where is Elephant? - “Down below.”
- Damn, his alarm system’s been activated; we need to
urgently pull him out! Slipping past me, she performed amazing tricks. She was
sliding down the steps almost without touching them. I had to
turn around and descend again, because under the image of
Elephant, the label of the buff, well, debuff, was blinking
urgently. There was, however, another label to the right of the
image, but the whole trio had it. Maybe it was just a group
display, I don’t know, there’s no time to figure it out now.
Practically sliding down the steps, I managed to notice how
Siniami jumped on the back of the machine-gunner and
injected some brown liquid into his head, and immediately
after that, she jumped off his back again. A moment later,
Elephant was lying on the steps. That didn’t seem right.
Maybe something had gone wrong?

- Volper, cover us, - Siniami shouted to me. Meanwhile, she
moved to her partner and asked. - Well, baby mammoth,
you’re not finished yet, right? - “Yes, thank you, Sini. But I have forty more seconds left on
the debuff to my coordination.”
While they were chatting nicely, I kept the entrance in my
sights, only there was no point in doing so just yet, because
there was an obstacle in the doorway, in the form of the
destroyed remains of the mobs. Although not quite, one corpse
was moving, and the face of a new mob immediately appeared
in the gap that had formed. After shooting a couple of rounds
in there, I began to hurry the couple up.
- “Go, damn it, go! The mobs will need less than a minute to
gnaw their way through.”
- Dude, don’t wait, shoot them for a couple of seconds, and
then rush back upstairs.
After that, he tried to get up, but he was still leaning to the
side, and if Sini hadn’t supported him on his right side, he
would’ve fallen again. I had a lot of questions. This group
looked very strange, but I understood that now wasn’t the time
to ask them anything. The only question that was bothering me
was somewhat philosophical. Am I just incapable of using
game slang? It would be a shame. I’d tried to get these terms,
forcing myself to use the gaming words, and then I look at a
player like one of these people and realize that I look like
some kind of teenager who hasn’t learned to speak properly,
but he has already picked up all sorts of words everywhere.
Tearing myself away from such thoughts, I shot several more
bullets into another monster, that was trying to get through the
corpses and into the doorway. As soon as Elephant, with
support from the girl, disappeared from view, going up to the
second flight of stairs, I changed my position and took up a

defensive one between the floors. In my opinion, now was the
best time to move. Siniami helps the machine gunner climb a
flight higher, after which I also go up a flight, defending them
as I do so.
I looked out of a small ventilation window, embedded in the
wall between the floors. On the street, there were already other
mobs gathering now, more sluggish, but at the same time,
much better protected or much stronger than the previous
ones. Very much like a spontaneous migration, or rather, the
behavior of real animals during a heat wave and fires, when all
animals run together in one direction, away from the threat.
This is about the same: first, the fastest and most agile
representatives of the fauna come in, followed by more
massive creatures, which are slower, but also stronger than
their fleet-footed brethren. If we continue with this analogy,
then we are still waiting for a meeting with the largest
representatives of the local animal kingdom, which are likely
to be the most sluggish.
We got bogged down on the fourth floor. Although Elephant,
by that time, had been able to move on his own, he still
couldn’t fight. Still, he was no longer leaning on the girl,
which allowed Sini to cover me with pistol fire. Though I
couldn’t call it actual firing: those places where her shots
struck were covered with a crust of ice, and if she hit any
limbs, they froze completely, a fact which I tried to use right
away. Just one bullet was enough to destroy the frozen parts.
- “Sini, hit the limbs!”
- What for? The damage there is tiny, and you cannot kill them
by shooting at a limb, only by aiming at vital organs- “I will shoot at frozen: control, injury, debuff speed and
mobility, bleeding,” I said, separating the phrases to save
time.
- Ok, that might work. -

Since the start, by periodically looking through the logs, I’d
discovered several patterns: the damage to the limbs is always
minimal, gradually becoming more and more insignificant,
and Siniami had rightfully pointed out that you can’t kill
creatures by shooting their limbs. But she probably hadn’t paid
attention to the fact that you can just shoot off the monster’s
paws and leave them to die of bleeding. We human beings can
bandage and stop the bleeding, but they don’t use bandages
and therefore, they can bleed to death. Well, except for those
monsters who have increased regeneration abilities. Although,
admittedly, if we don’t cause any bleeding and just break its
paws, then the monster won’t die anyway, of course.
I agree that if you just want to hunt the mobs, then you have to
hit them where it counts on their bodies, or shoot them in the
head, where critical hits can be had, and if you hit them
successfully, you can kill the monster with one shot. This
saves a lot of ammunition and speeds up the process of
hunting. I suspect that the game developers had wanted to
make everything closer to reality: if you broke your arms and
legs, it wouldn’t mean that you were killed, you’d get a bunch
of debuffs and keep rolling, almost with full hit points. And if
you make a small hole in a particularly delicate place – you
immediately get a corpse. There were other factors to consider,
but the gist was that, normally, vital areas, or hitting as close to
them as possible, was the way to go. Not for us, however, our
situation required a new approach

The new tactics proved to be quite good. Gradually retreating,
we shot monsters in various limbs, after which they had a hard
time reaching us. Siniami was now trying to hit only the limbs,
freezing them, and I would be ready to break the frozen limb
with one shot, limiting their mobility. At the moment when I
needed to reload, she would immediately switch to automatic
fire, doing more of an area freeze. Also, I was very surprised
when I realized that she didn’t have a normal firearm in her
hands, but a needle gun. After all, I’d initially thought her

shots being so quiet was due to sound absorbers. But
everything turned out to be much simpler: she was simply
firing darts charged with a certain filling, in this case, cryocapsules. And then, when we were close to Buffoon, she gave
me some bad news.
- That’s it, no more freezing. I’ll charge the burst grenades! - Get away!
I threw a couple of grenades out of my pouch, practically one
after the other, at the monsters rushing to our position atop the
stairs. Then I turned around and picked up speed with a few
steps, jumping over the steps. And from the middle of the
span, I tried to dive with a pike onto the floor platform, and
after a hard landing, using my whole body, I pressed myself to
the cold cracked concrete, almost kissing the floor. Both
explosions sounded, one after the other, raising a cloud of
cement dust. For the fourth time in a row, I chose to use the
rolling skill, and only then did I realize that it was on
Cooldown. I’d used it after the laboratory, when I went down
to the street. I had to act on my own, and, pressing my chin to
my chest, I tried to get the foe in my sight.
At that moment, there was no one, but at any time, another
monster might appear. I crawled on my back, without taking
my eyes off the stairs. Then, behind me, someone grabbed me
by the collar and, in one movement, that knocked the breath
out of me, threw me into one of the doorways. It turned out
that I’d managed to crawl on my back all the way to the very
feet of Elephant, and, without thinking twice, he’d decided to
hurry me along like that. Now I was only watching the back of
the machine gunner, who had already managed to leave his
machine gun somewhere, and he had no backpack either.
But that drop-shaped plate now rested on the forearm of his
left hand and was sparking with yellow energy flashes. And
the handle with all the incomprehensible devices now no

longer looked awkward - the tips of the plates were connected
by a laser beam, forming a semblance of an ax blade. While I
was trying to realize what was happening, Elephant, already
fully recovered, began to issue commands.
- Sini, give us some buffs, and charge the under-hill! Buffoon,
activate the bars, when I go defend, we will check if they can
cut the mobs at the same time. Volp, thanks for covering me,
you can rest for now. Siniami, quickly changing the magazine case in one of her
pistols to a bright red one, surprised me by throwing a line of
needles into the back of Elephant, applying many buffs to him.
It seems to me that she hasn’t only got needles for fighting, but
all kinds of chemical substances as well.
- “Bar test,” came Buffoon’s voice, from the depths of the
room.
- OK! - Elephant answered instantly and closed with his
shield.
Directly in front of him, for a split second, two layers of
energy barriers appeared, unfolding from wall to wall, with a
space of fifteen centimeters between the layers, after which
they immediately disappeared. Only now did I notice that the
elements needed to form the barriers had been placed along
the walls, and the wires from them stretched along the junction
of the wall and floor, in the direction of the engineer.
- “Well, now I’m starting to remember my paladin years, when
I was younger” the machine gunner practically muttered … or
was it more correct to say a berserker? “Well, Centuria, let’s
show this guy what our clan is all about!”

He didn’t even have time to finish, as the first monster
appeared in the corridor, and was immediately cut into two
uneven halves. The edges of the cuts slightly smoked after
contact with the laser ax.

CHAPTER XXIII: BREAKTHROUGH. PART TWO

Twenty minutes of bloody fighting passed. That’s how long
we managed to withstand the onslaught of the monsters. We
tried to hole up in a small corridor leading from the landing to
the rooms, which likely used to be apartments. Elephant
managed to fight for three or four minutes, and then he had to
retreat, under the cover of a machine gun that Buffoon had
mounted on a tripod in the corridor. He rested for two minutes,
and then he rushed into battle again, cutting yet more monsters
into pieces, sometimes using a knob located on the reverse
side of the laser blade, which turned out to be a pulse hammer.
During all of that, Siniami systematically played the role of
support, deftly combining the needles in her pistols with
various injections of combat chems, preventing Elephant from
being left without buffs, and, if necessary, she added
regeneration mixtures that spurred the body on very strongly,
up to the point that small wounds healed in literally twenty
seconds. That’s how these miracle substances worked.
Elephant had already gotten the overly medicated debuff,
reducing the effects of all injections by forty percent, and even
giving him ten percent disorientation. At that moment, I was
practically superfluous to the team, and all my desire to help
was reduced to just equipping machine gun belts with new
cartridges. On the other hand, by listening to Buffoon, I was
able to learn many interesting things.
Their group has been taking part in other virtual projects for a
while, and was previously a fairly large clan. But with the
creation of the new city, the clan had decided to move on to
this project, because the main team was bored with the
previous one. To put it another way, they’d decided to try their
luck in a new genre. But, things didn’t go very well for them,
from the very beginning. Most of the people were scattered
around various outposts, and they lost touch with some of

them. As a result, they’d decided to register the clan in the
outpost where the greatest number of their people was.
Because of all this, of course, they had been a little late with
registration and hence hadn’t received the achievement of the
first clan. Now they were trying to strengthen their clan,
scouting potential hunting places.
As it turns out, there are almost two dozen registered clans in
this outpost at the moment, but only three clans have any real
strength by current standards: The Centurions, The Wolves
and The Tempest. However, it must be noted that these clans
have divided the territory around the outpost using directions,
focusing on the cardinal points, leaving the fourth direction to
other, smaller clans. True, there are still two quite noticeable
clans beside those three, but one is targeted at crafters, and the
second is positioning themselves as mercenaries.
Most of the cyborgs had gone to join them, and they provided
almost a full range of services: from the ordinary
transportation of the remains of mobs or other booty to
providing a full group for combat support. But relationships
among the players are very fragile and can change drastically
at any time.
Buffoon admitted to me that these herds of monsters have
ruined their plans. He had been keeping in touch with the
officers of the clan through letters via the neural interface.
Their clan had already lost two buildings, in response to which
the system took ownership of the property away from them
immediately, as soon as these buildings had been flooded with
mobs and no people had been left to defend them. We agreed
that such a big population of mobs wouldn’t allow small clans
to grab a bunch of locations for themselves, to add to their
property. After all, as they say, if you can’t protect your
property, then it won’t be yours anymore.
- Hey, guys, it seems the northern fox came to us.

The tense voice of Elephant distracted me from loading the
next ribbon for Buffoon’s machine gun, and I turned my head
toward the aisle. Elephant, together with Siniami, stood near
the opening leading to the landing, and was looking
somewhere around the corner. The first oddity was that I
didn’t see any living monsters, and strange sounds were
coming from somewhere on the stairs. But both stood quietly
and had not taken any action yet. Having exchanged glances
with Buffoon and after everyone picked up their own weapon,
we rushed to the two of them in order to evaluate the scope of
the threat approaching us.

Now we were standing together on the landing and looking
down at the flight of stairs that led up from the previous floor.
More precisely, not at the staircase, but at the creature that was
slowly, without haste, approaching us, simultaneously
devouring the remains of other mobs. A massive triangular
head, covered with a chitin shell and with a crest in the middle
of the muzzle, was crowned with two pairs of horizontally
placed mandibles, with which it ground up the bones of the
corpses before using its elongated mouth.
I couldn’t see the maw from where I was standing, it was
covered with a piece of chitin from above, but judging by the
characteristic sounds of the remains of bones being chewed
up, I suspected that it also had very big teeth. The head was
attached to the body with a short, thick neck, covered with ring
plates that clung to each other and formed something like
segment armor. The middle of the body was covered the same
way, connecting two large plates that completely covered the
front and rear halves of the body, dropping from the sides
almost to the ground, covering six massive legs with rather big
claws. Behind it was a long, flexible tail, consisting of
triangular segments, like pyramids inserted one into another,
which ended with an impressive sting.

When you look at it, it’s nothing special. Just how many
armored monsters can you meet in such an aggressive world?
This creature was about four meters long and about two meters
wide, because of which, when moving upstairs, it kept
breaking the railing. Not only that, but there were also three
lines above this creature - red, blue and green. Red was,
obviously, life, but what the others designated, I could not
even begin to guess. Moving my gaze a little higher up, I saw
its level, and I was in awe.
Tarconite level 83
- “Yeah, I just stood and stared at it a while, too,” at that
moment, Elephant’s voice rang out to my left, - “How are we
going to bring this creature down?”
- Did you try to shoot it with something? - “Do I look like an idiot? I don’t wanna risk dealing with this
beast without an armed raid group backing me up. Well, not
without at least having the best escape plan possible in place.”
- “And you will have to come up with one,” Siniami told us
sadly.” Upstairs, three floors up, everything is filled with
rubble. And it’s so tightly grouped together that even a mouse
could not squeeze through.”
- Who has any suggestions, how do we get out of this
situation? - This time, the engineer was the one who’d spoken.
- “Without any information on its armor and resistances, I’m
not gonna deal with this mob. I think it’s necessary to run
away and, at the same time, feel it out for vulnerabilities,
trying not to come any closer to the aggressive mob.”
- Are there any mines or explosives? - I turned to the engineer,
while the others started quarreling in the background, once
Sin started going off about stupid risks.
- No, I’m an engineer, not a sapper. - That sucks, now I only see one way out. You will quickly
collect everything and move to the next floor. When you get

there, I make a couple of test shots with my rifle; it has an
average penetrating damage in the range of 95 units. If the
damage goes through, I start leading him along, and while I
do that, you think about how you can kill it using your
weapons. As soon as you’re ready, I will lead it to you, and
then the fun begins. If we need to, we’ll have a couple more
floors to fall back to and change tactics. - “Fucking stupid plan! But we don’t have any other plans, so
I’m for it!” Elephant supported me.
- I’ll start to assemble the cannon,” Buffoon shrugged, and
then went to tinker with his toys.
- “I’ve already had enough of it with these two idiots. I’d just
started to rejoice that I would get a break from these idiots, but
no, they’ve gone and picked up another insane guy off the
street,” Siniami sighed heavily, it could plainly be seen that
they’d often gotten into difficult situations because of the other
team members. “Okay, let it be so! At least you’ve come up
with some kind of plan; normally, these idiots rush into the
thick of things without any sort of plan at all.”
In the end, we all agreed to implement the plan. We even
threw the remains of the monsters scattered on the floor down
the steps, so that the mob would take more time to eat and not
pay any attention to us, since Buffoon needed a couple of
minutes to collect all his belongings. The sub-machinegun had
to be given to Siniami, which was bothering me. We agreed
that she would hand it to me and take a rifle from me instead,
at the earliest opportunity. That, of course, would happen if the
creature took any damage. When we finished preparations, we
agreed that if the machine gun ends up being capable of
inflicting damage, we’d go up the stairs in a way that will
force the monster to expose itself to us, so at least one of us
can shoot it, as we climb up.
The only problem was that Buffoon had only thirteen percent
in the stationary machine gun skills, which greatly affected his
accuracy, which meant he could clip Elephant with his
shooting. And in this game, unfortunately, “friendly” fire can
easily kill you. As for plan B, we agreed to go even higher, try

to throw grenades at it, and, if possible, bring down the stairs.
But I didn’t want to do that, because we would still have to
descend somehow.
For the monster to get to our floor, it needed to go up only a
few steps, and devour a couple of the corpses left. And I was
already lying on the cold floor, taking up a position at almost
the very end of the corridor, facing the steps exactly. I was
lucky that the corridor I was in had several more exits to
different rooms behind me – that’s the way I’d run from the
mob. It was bad that this building had a very wide layout,
which meant the monster could move almost freely, despite its
size.
I kept the already prepared letter in the upper left corner of my
window, meant for Elephant. It will take me a few seconds to
add the necessary text there. As soon as the head of the
Tarconite appeared above the floor platform, I immediately
activated the “First Shot”. I hoped that it would work, because
in this situation, the conditions for it to operate are tricky to
pull off. I might not be able to use it because of the restrictions
specified in the description of the skill. But I still have a
Sniper Shot skill in reserve. Ideally, it’s best to use it after
activating the “First Shot”, so you get the maximum effect
possible out of it. But in extreme cases, I can still use it on its
own.
Sniper Shot II
Description: You exhale all excess air, steadying your
diaphragm, and take a moment, between heartbeats, to line
up a shot. + 30% to accuracy, + 15% increase to your chance
to cause critical damage, + 45% to the amount of critical
damage.
Activation time: 3 seconds.
Duration: before the shot, but not more than 7 seconds.
Cooldown: 3 hours 50 minutes.

Restrictions: It can only be used with weapons that have
sniper scopes.
There it is! The skill’s been activated, painting the visible part
of the mob in different colors ranging from green to red, where
red showed the most vulnerable spots. Oddly enough, the most
vulnerable place wasn’t the eyes or the mouth, which only had
a yellow highlight. On the front of the mob, only two red dots
were highlighted, showing their status as the most vulnerable
spots - the small recesses under the lower pair of mandibles
had been highlighted. If the main part of the mob’s torso
hadn’t been on the stairs yet, I would’ve hardly seen these
places at all. Normally, they were practically near the ground,
covered with a bunch of armor and mandibles.
The indicator in the sight has been signaling that the rifle is
charged and at the maximum for a while now, but I have wait
for those unfortunate three seconds needed to activate the
ability “Sniper shot”, the start of which made me exhale fully
and hold my breath. As soon as the skill was activated, I
mentally brought the sight to the required point, and, again
mentally, pulled the trigger with my finger. It’s a little
problematic to manage your body this way, but unfortunately,
using this skill, it’s only possible to do it like this, because all
the muscles are completely under the control of piconites, and
they determine the requirements for a shot.

As soon as the sound of the shot was heard, my body was
immediately released from strain, and I reflexively breathed
in, immediately jumped to my feet, picking up the rifle at the
same time, and only then did the information on the results of
the shot reach my brain. And the results were rather
unsatisfying: the bullet had ricocheted from the red shell that
had appeared for a split second, and the yellow strip above the
monster was reduced by an insignificant amount, roughly one

percent. Quickly transferring the information, I rushed to the
room on the right.
I ran back to the doorway of the next room and froze for a
little while, bringing up the rifle, waiting for the mob to
appear, since it should’ve followed me. How mistaken I’d
been! The wall near me was almost demolished, and a huge
armored ball rolled into the room, the blow of which just
swept me into the room. Lifting myself up a bit, I saw the ball
opening up, and the Tarconite looked at me from its depths. It
turned out that this creature can fold into a kind of protective
ball, somewhat remotely resembling an interesting animal. If
my memory doesn’t fail me, they’re called armadillos. The
only difference is they have no mandibles and a triangular
head. Well, that’s what it looks like, anyway.
Getting close, I stared at the mob. I’d lost the rifle when I’d
been thrown by the violent explosion, and there was no time to
look for it now. I could only tease this creature with my guns,
not a very smart thing to do. I thought I could still try to blow
it up with grenades, their damage was good enough. But the
space was so small, and so far, I hadn’t seen any locations
where I could safely hide from the explosion, and I didn’t feel
like being a suicide bomber. Then my eyes caught the partially
destroyed ceiling. Why not try it? What a good idea!
At the same time, there were windows around us, which meant
that this was the outside wall. I moved slowly to the right, not
taking my eyes off the monster, while neatly pulling out my
pistols on the move, and then the ball unfolded in front of me,
swaying slightly on its armor. I didn’t know what it was
expecting, but I was in charge now, because I didn’t see any
other options for getting myself out of this room. This armored
piece of shit had cornered me between the two walls. And
approaching closer to it was not what I wanted to do. I’d lost
17% of my life just from being sideswiped by it a little. I was
afraid to think about what could happen if this creature

scratched me with one of its paws, or, God forbid, with its
mandibles, which could grind up bones very quickly.
Having gotten into a very good position, I was prepared to
attack the mob, but it didn’t seem to view me as a threat, since
it had decided to come out of its ball and go after me. Raising
both pistols, I began to shoot it with the ammunition available
there. I realized that I couldn’t even hurt it, but my task was
different, and I achieved it.
The Tarconite curled into a ball again and rolled in my
direction, picking up the speed of its rotation with every meter.
Just a little bit … a little more … Now! Without looking, I
threw the pistols and, jumping up with all my strength, I
grabbed the armature sticking out of the ceiling, sincerely
hoping that it wouldn’t break off at the wrong moment. I
pulled myself up, clinging to the ceiling, pulling up my legs as
close as possible, and missing the Tarconite beneath me. A
powerful blow behind me forced me to release the armature
against my will, and I found myself on the floor again,
however, this time I was helpless and on my back. The
message that popped up in front of my eyes made me laugh.
You have gained the Acrobatics skill.
I’ve been jumping and dodging everywhere for ages and only
now had they given me the acrobatics skill. I don’t understand
the algorithm for giving skills, I just don’t get it! Rolling over,
I stared at the hole in the wall. I’m glad that my impromptu
plan worked out. The Tarconite, because of its armor and total
mass, hadn’t even needed to go that fast to break through the
wall and fall out onto the street. Getting up and going to the
edge of the newly formed gap, I looked down. The monster
showed up almost immediately, and others did as well. On the
street, there was a kind of local apocalypse happening. A lot of
monsters were squabbling with each other.

Their numbers, compared to what we’d seen at the beginning
of the wave, were quite low, but there were still quite a lot of
them. Now they were no longer rushing in one direction, but,
as I understood it, they had begun to divide up the territory,
defending their right to it with fangs and claws. One of these
local skirmishers and our fiend had crashed into each other in
the middle of it. It would seem it hadn’t been particularly
affected by a fall from such a height. A couple of the bigger
monsters he crashed into figured that this was another
contender for their territory, and they charged this new
opponent together. I didn’t wait to see how these clashes
would end; the main thing was that the Tarconite wasn’t here
at the moment. Walking around the room, I collected my
weapons and moved to the stairs, simultaneously sending a
letter to Elephant that I was going up to them, and that our
problem had solved itself. While approaching the stairs, just in
case, I also shouted:

- “I am coming to you, it’s me!”
- Damn, Volp, what happened to you down there? Where did
this … - Elephant began, descending toward me, but then his
eyes got wide and he began to bring up the machine gun,
which he’d been holding in his hands. – Look behind you!!!
-

As soon as I saw the look in his eyes, I immediately began to
roll forward, turning around, and then there was only one
thought in my head. I’d really wanted to ask: “Is there
something behind me?” But either my subconscious mind had
worked faster, or the dodging skill had worked, and as a result,
I’d managed to dodge the attack from behind. However, it was
a dubious achievement, because the paws of a new monster
had slammed into my chest, pressing my whole mass to the
steps. Greenish scales flashed before my eyes and an extended
maw, filled with three rows of large teeth, which then began to

close on my head. The last thing I remembered was the sound
of the machine gun that they’d started shooting, but,
unfortunately, they hadn’t had the time to do anything, and
then darkness came.
Convulsively inhaling, I opened my eyes and in the process, I
moved my hand over my belt in search of any weapons. I’d
need them to get rid of this creature. But I didn’t find
anything, and only then did I realize that I was in completely
the wrong place. Only after two painful seconds of going
through the disorientation accompanying the death that I’d just
suffered, it came to me that I was in the replication capsule
installed in my room. There were no icons for the group in
sight. Either I’d been thrown out upon my death, or the group
had just thrown me out of the party after some time.
Judging by the clock in the neural interface, about twelve
hours had already passed. I wondered where my mind had
been for all of that time? It seems that something was still
clinging to my memory, but it was impossible to bring out
those vague flashbacks. All right, what else do we have there?
Under the bars for health and other nonsense there was a
debuff icon, lowering my performance by twenty percent for a
period of half an hour. It looks like this is a sort of posthumous
penalty. Getting out of the capsule, I found that almost
everything hurt. I had to do warm-up exercises in order to be
able to at least move, more or less. While doing the warm-ups,
I looked through the logs and system messages. I had a lot to
go through and think about.
…
…
You have dealt 0 points of penetrating damage to the Tarconite
creature, all damage is absorbed by the psionic shield.
You have dealt 0 kinetic damage to the Tarconite creature, all
damage is absorbed by the psionic shield.

It turns out that not only mutants have psionics, but also mobs,
which was a very unpleasant discovery. I had to improve
myself, if I wanted to get anything done against these kinds of
foes. The other info in the logs was of no particular interest for
me - well, except for the fact that I’d gotten an odd message
after getting level 16, so I moved on to the system messages.
Congratulations! You are in the TOP 10 000 of Undying
Characters. You’ve lasted a long time without any replication
in especially hostile conditions. Your current rank is 7,563.
As a reward, you will receive 1 unallocated point for your
attributes. Attention! Before distributing it, we strongly
recommend your “thirst” and “hunger” indicators not
exceed 25%. It is also necessary to take a horizontal position,
since the process of reconstructing the body with piconites
can take from 20 minutes to 12 hours, depending on how
high the attribute obtained is after the increase.
Wow, that’s some good news! The attribute point is great, but
it’s kind of miserable, when I consider that another seven and
a half thousand players have never died. Let’s look further.
Attention! Due to the breakthrough, 97% of the privately
owned real estate on the fifth level was lost. The outposts No.
91-25-38 and No. 32-11-25 were completely destroyed. All
replications attached to these outposts were evenly
distributed among other replication centers, depending on
the level of damage received by the outposts where they are
located. The attempt to break through to the sixth level was
again successfully eliminated by the military forces.
Casualties among the civilian population are insignificant
and amount to only 28,358 people.
The nerve of them - minor losses! But, on the other hand, I
don’t know the total population at the top levels. As a

percentage, these may be some really insignificant statistical
casualties. I’ve started hating this world, where they treat the
civilian population like this, even if it’s just NPCs. But in this
message, too, there is a lot of information to consider. Since
there are military forces, which have “again successfully
eliminated the breakthrough,” that means this phenomenon is
quite frequent. For me, personally, this is bad, because it’s
forcing me to think about forming a detachment again; I would
constantly die in these situations otherwise. I don’t want to
regularly lose the locations that will be under my control,
either.
The main problem isn’t even that you have to be responsible
for the lives of other people – everyone is revived here - the
problem is to find normal people, who can be trusted, at least a
little. And most importantly - my unwillingness to once more
have to sit down to plan operations, supplies, training … Brrr,
I have plenty of memories of doing that before. I didn’t come
here to work my ass off, but to have fun. I came for the
excitement, the adrenaline, to feel young again. I want to be
able to get into a hopeless battle, forget about everything, not
even have to think about the risks and possible consequences,
all while firing hot lead by the pound. Well, there will be more
time to think about that. I was now reading some quite
interesting system messages:
Congratulations on your successful replication! Adapting to
your new body will take about 30 minutes. During this time,
most of your attributes and skills will be temporarily lowered.
Due to the replication, some of your skills have been lost.
You have lost 7% of the Interrogation skill.
You have lost 9% of the Bullying skill.
Try to avoid having to be replicated; this will contribute to a
more stable growth of your skills.
They say that as if I were eager to commit suicide! Seriously, I
sometimes have the feeling that the system periodically mocks

me, or that the one who wrote these texts had a very specific
sense of humor. Okay, with the system messages checked, it’s
time to pay attention to the flashing envelopes. No, I’m being
stupid. I can now finally look at the information about those
things that have been lying around for a long time. All the
other letters can wait. I spent the next couple of minutes on
studying the “ancient” things. I finally got a set of these things
out, laid them out in front of me and opened the information I
had about them.

CHAPTER XXIV: SHOULD I THROW IT OUT OR KEEP IT?

The text that appeared in front of me was just too long, and
that was despite the fact that not all of the information was
available to me. Okay, let’s read this carefully:
Overalls “The Soul of a Seraphim”
Additional slots: 18 slots for connecting additional elements
of equipment; 5 slots for connecting weapon elements.
Armor:
Kinetic: 73
Thermal: 27
Description: a basic part of the Scurfifer’s armor set, is of
the Seraphim class, to which other elements of armor, power
sources, and weapon systems are connected.
Extra feature 1: Hidden (To reveal information, connect the
corresponding element)
Extra feature 2: Hidden (To reveal information, connect the
corresponding element)
…
…
…
Extra feature 15: Hidden (To reveal information, connect the
corresponding element)
Extra feature 16: Hidden (To reveal information, connect the
corresponding element)
Part of the “Seraphim” set, which consists of 19 elements of
equipment and 5 elements of weapons.
Set Bonuses: Depends on which elements of the set are
installed at the same time.
The composition of the kit’s connected equipment:

Soul of the Seraphim 1/1
Wisdom of the Seraphim 0/1
Eye of the Seraphim 0/1
Voice of the Seraphim 0/1
Conscience of the Seraphim 0/2
Shackles of the Seraphim 0/2
Hand of the Seraphim 0/2
Heart of the Seraphim 0/1
Loyalty to the Seraphim 0/1
Seraphim’s Freedom 0/3
Shame of the Seraphim 0/1
Seraphim’s bow 0/1
Seraphim’s treads 0/1
Sin of the Seraphim 0/1
The composition of the set of connected weapons:
Seraphim’s punishment 0/1
Censorship of the Seraphim 0/2
Wrath of the Seraphim 0/2
Condition: 97%
Weight: 2.7 kg
Restrictions: Only for the Scurfifer profession

Moving away from these items and putting my hands behind
my back, I resorted to an old habit of mine: measuring the
room with my steps. Four steps to one side, and then turn and
it’s four steps in the opposite direction as well. So, let’s sort
everything out. To begin with, it’s clear from the description
that this is part of a large, specialized kit, but it’s just

impossible to determine who can use it and, by the way, what
on earth is a Scurfifer? Hearing the word, I tried to remember
where and if I could’ve possibly ever heard it – but alas, no,
I’ve never heard of it. Although… there are a couple of people
who are likely to be able to give me an answer to this question.
Ok, I’ll ask then later, and now I’ll proceed on to the next
item. Judging by the overalls, which seem like the basis for the
rest of the armor set, it does all look quite promising.
If the damper alone has such great stats, then the armor itself
should be very, very interesting. I stopped for a while and
shook my head, getting rid of all these unnecessary, intrusive
musings; I rubbed my face, and then moved on to studying the
next object. I chose the glasses, leaving the rifle and energy
batteries for “dessert””. As I had suspected, they belonged to
the same set, so I focused on the new information.
Eyeglasses of the Seraphim
Armor for the upper half of the face:
Kinetic: 35
Penetrating: 52
Thermal: 29
Description: The glasses were made in the form of a halfmask, covering the upper half of the Scurfifer’s face,
allowing them to fight in almost any conditions, while also
serving the function of protecting the eyes from any harmful
elements.
Additional property 1: hidden (to reveal information, connect
the corresponding element)
…
…
…
Additional property 6: hidden (to reveal information, connect
the corresponding element)

…
…
The Eye of the Seraphim 1/1
…
…
Condition: 98%
Weight: 0.4 kg
Restrictions: Only for the Scurfifer profession.
Well, what can I say: quite good armor stats for eyewear, hell,
good stats even if I were to compare it with my own body
armor. What’s annoying in this description is that it has the
hidden additional features as well. If there are only six for the
glasses, then there are sixteen for the overalls; I cannot even
think of that many. The most curious thing is that if I’ve
understood this correctly, while wearing both items, each of
them should have one additional feature. But there’s also the
profession restriction, which makes me desperate to know
more; just like a birthday kid would want to eat a birthday
cake that he’s not allowed to.
Damn, I can’t go on like that! Picking up the jumpsuit and
quickly putting it on, I also put on the glasses. And then …
nothing. Absolutely nothing happened! Even the information
in the description hasn’t changed. Well, okay, but the suit fits
me perfectly, I can wear it without any of additional functions.
Even the one protective function which it gives me is more
than enough. Trying to take a step, I hit my face full force
against the floor: my legs had refused to move, which, in fact,
had caused the fall, but my hands had also refused to move as
well, when I’d tried to soften the fall.
- Fucking piconites, curse you!

Attention! You are wearing a piece of clothing that is not
suitable for you according to the restrictions set by the
Server! Would you like to take it off?
Yes/ no
Of course, I pressed “Yes”, what else can I do in this situation,
lying face down, my own body not obeying me? After
confirming my choice to remove the outfit, my body rose on
its own, got undressed, and also folded up the things neatly.
But seriously, I’m horrified by the idea that if this were real, it
would give someone total control of the entire population. God
forbid that the government of any country control people in
such a way – then the people would be slaves forever. Brrrr, I
have goose bumps just thinking about it. Well, the most
delicious item now is the rifle, because even if the same
restrictions are there, at least it won’t hurt me if I look at it.
The rifle “Seraphim’s punishment”
Additional slots: 5 slots for installing additional charge
generators.
Power source: battery EP 28-73, metals of any type used to
restore the number of nanites.
Description: weapon element, modeled after a long-range
rifle for the Scurfifer, designed for combat at long and ultralong distances. It has its own colony of nanites in a
miniaturized repository, which are the basis of the
ammunition and can be self-created if there is enough of the
necessary material and energy to ensure its operation. The
shot is made through a high-frequency energy accelerator,
imposing a shaped charge of a certain type on the base of
nanites, according to the model of the ammunition selected
for firing.
Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 60 rounds.
Shooting modes: single.

Magazine size: from 5 to 45 shots, depending on the type of
ammunition selected.
Types of ammunition generated:
Standard bullet:
Description: needle made from nanites, covered with a power
cover
Kinetic damage: 107-132
Penetrating damage: 102-125
Ammunition: 45
Power Consumption: 1.7 KAT
Traumatic bullet:
Description: hemispherical shell made from nanites with a
pulsed charge in the middle.
Kinetic damage: 168-193
Penetrating damage: 75-93
Ammunition: 40
Energy consumption: 2.3 KAT
Armor-piercing bullet: (data is unavailable; connect the
corresponding element to reveal)
Incendiary bullet: (data is unavailable; connect the
corresponding item to reveal)
Explosive bullet: (data is unavailable; connect the
corresponding item to reveal)
Freezing bullet: (data is unavailable; connect the
corresponding item to reveal)
Electric bullet: (data is unavailable; connect the
corresponding item to reveal)
Installed modules:
Digital Optical Sight (TsPS-32)
…

…
Kara Seraphim 1/1
…
…
Condition: 96%
Weight: 3.3 kg
Restrictions: Only for the Scurfifer profession.
Not again! I had better pay a visit to Mr. Carefire and ask him
what a Scurfifer is. Even if I’m completely unlucky and this
profession is not available to me, I’ll know who I should steer
clear of. In the worst-case scenario, I can sell this outfit for a
substantial amount to one of the large clans, and let them come
up with an idea on how to use this thing. Finally, I glanced at
the power supply, which had a very short description
compared to other things.
Power supply “ЕР28-73”
Capacity: 35 KAT
Current charge: 28.9 KAT
Condition: 99%
Weight: 0.2kg
This KAT is a strange unit of energy measurement, but I don’t
see anything unusual there. The developers simply decided to
create their own term for energy, so no one would harass them,
claiming things like: a weapon cannot consume such a volume
of energy or those type of batteries aren’t able to accumulate
so much energy, etc. After walking around a little, and
studying the information about each item a few more times, I
finally made a decision: either I would get this profession, or
I’m selling the items to someone, so that I don’t have to look
at them again. Of course, these have enormous potential,

especially if you assemble the entire kit, but I’m not going to
go run around in circles and beat myself up over them.
Taking out a spare set of clothes and getting dressed, I left
almost everything in the room and headed to see Mr. Carefire.
However, approaching the door, I was a little tense. Something
bothered me, literally gnawed at me from the inside,
periodically bombarding my mind with thoughts about my
actions, clearly hinting that I had forgotten something. Turning
around and carefully looking around the room, I finally
realized what was wrong. I noticed the envelope indicating
new mail was still flashing, signaling that there was an unread
letter.
For some time now, I’ve noted that I have an instinct that tells
me when something is amiss. And when the doctors, who are
watching my body in real life, don’t sound any alarms, that
means that the problem is not with my real body, but is
connected either to the virtual world in general, or specifically,
with this game. I need to stop reflecting on random things and
check my mail. Stop getting distracted, old man.
Sender: Elephant
Text of the letter:
Hey man, sorry, I really didn’t have any time. I hope you
won’t hold it against me. By the way, we brought your gear,
which we were able to collect, to the outpost, so when you
have the time, go to our clan hall, where your things are
waiting for you, or rather, what is left of them. As an apology
from my clan, I asked our warehouse manager for
permission to give you a pair of garments, so if you’re
having any financial problems, don’t hesitate to talk to him.
P. S. A guy called Rumple also wanted to talk to you. He’s
our personnel manager, you got his attention with

something, it was our campaign, probably, and he thinks you
should be invited into our clan.
P. S. S. If you join us, tell him you want to work for the
intelligence branch, we’ll be glad to see you on our team!
Getting noticed by this clan doesn’t exactly fill me with joy,
but I will probably still have to go. Well, if nothing else, then
for the equipment and weapons, and if I’m lucky, Carefire’s
gift will have remained intact, since that backpack is the best,
well, by my current standards anyway. Also, I don’t want to
offend the commander by losing his gift, since he mentioned
that he’d been in a lot of battles with that backpack, and I’ve
managed to lose it in my first raid. I will try to quickly get in,
pick up my things and immediately run away, so as not to meet
this Rumple.
While I was thinking everything over and about the clan of my
temporary party members, I found myself on the street. The
scene before me was very depressing. Almost everywhere,
there were scorch marks, broken glass, some buildings even
had rather large holes in them. A part of the defensive wall
that I could observe from my spot, about 10 meters wide, had
been destroyed. Only a small part of the outpost, the one
where the main office buildings were located, was relatively
intact.
The way the strongholds in the inner parts of the outpost
looked made it clear there was more to come. Hmm, it seems
that Carefire has had problems getting enough fighters
together because there was only one soldier in the standard
armor of the outpost at each guard position, and with them
were two, sometimes even three people on duty, all in different
armor, which suggested they were players.
So, it’s necessary to get an answer to some questions and solve
the problems that had appeared. First, I would head to get my

remaining belongings, then to the commander, to get some
answers. If necessary, I will turn to Sanych, at least for a chat.
What else? Then I’ll have to see what the engineers tell me
about Irala, and based on what I find out, I’ll be considering
my options: to recruit a team of newcomers… or maybe it’s
worth acquiring the services of a few mercenaries. Now
having some sort of plan of action, I went up on to the nearest
fighter in the uniform armor.
- “Good afternoon!”
- Good afternoon! - He replied, giving me an appreciative
look. – Can I help you? - “I just wanted to know where the offices of the organization
called Centurion are located.”
- Over there, round the corner, there’s the building! - He
pointed in the right direction. - There are still replicants who
are trying to deal with all the leftover corpses of monsters. And after I nodded, he added: - Their office is in the building,
well, at least it was, before the breakthrough. - “Thanks!”
See? If you ask the right question to the right person, they will
give you enough information in half a minute. And if I’d tried
to approach a player - they would’ve ignored me altogether,
another player would’ve also told me to go away, some others
would’ve laughed at me, and only a few would’ve been
courteous enough to tell me, and only in rare cases would they
have given me a proper, detailed reply. It’s just like in reality,
everyone has their own problems, they are always in a hurry to
get somewhere, but in games, unfortunately, it’s all a bit
overdone.
Reaching the building I’d been directed to, I found a massive
picture of an ancient helmet with a red crest over the doors.
Memories came back to me, being a cadet and laughing,
alongside the other cadets, at this strange helmet, calling it a

cockerel, while the instructor who’d taught us the history of
military equipment got so angry that he gave us bad marks.
Okay, that’s enough reminiscing. Entering the hall of the
building, I found a player who was doing something at the
counter, holding a screwdriver in his left hand.
- “Maybe you’d better ask the techies for help?” I couldn’t
stand watching him mock the mechanism with his oafishness.
- Nah … they’re always charging way too much money there,
so I’ll be broke soon, if I do, - the Cyborg replied to me.
- “Well, that’s your business. By the way, I’ve long wanted to
ask how a Cyborg differs from a real human being.”
- Well, that’s a piece of cake, cyborgs are reborn with their
tricks, and human beings, after respawn, have all their
installed implants disappear, so you need to buy and install
them again … - He finally got distracted from tinkering with
his mechanical hand and looked up at me. - Err… Wait, man,
who are you again? - A terrorist, damn it. I’ve already captured the entire top
management of your clan, and you were the last one that had
to be dealt with, but you were so passionate that I felt it was a
pity to distract you from what you were doing.
Upon hearing this, he fell down from his chair, smashing it
along the way, jumped up from the floor, covered in plastic
fragments, and with a panicked look, rushed off somewhere
toward the depths of the building. However, at the last
moment, he realized the absurdity of the situation, stopped
with an expression of extreme resentment and turned back to
me again.
- A joker, fuck you, - he grunted to himself, and continued in
an eviler tone of voice. - Come on, tell me why you came in
here, or get out. This is, in fact, private property. - “Elephant left a parcel for Volper.”

- Am I a courier or something? - “I’ll write to Elephant to tell him that I wasn’t welcome here,
then.”
- Okay, okay, don’t get angry, there’s some kind of trash for
you here; they told me to give it to the man who would
introduce himself as Volper. So here’s your backpack and now
get out of here, I’ve already said everything. -

When I got to the counter and took out a plastic bag from
below, I just grabbed it and threw it over my shoulder, as if
nothing had happened, and then left the building. If anyone
asks why I didn’t talk to Rumple, I’ll just tell them I’d been
told to get out of there. I’ll say I figured maybe this Rumple
had changed his plans. If they need me so much, they can find
me. Quickly sorting out the things, to my disappointment, I
saw that the backpack, rifle and machine gun were in order,
but everything else had turned into trash. Now I understood
why Elephant had offered to talk to their supply manager for
me.

If I hadn’t had spare gear, I would’ve had to run around the
outpost naked. Reaching the nearest mobile utilizer, which the
various recovery services had simply put everywhere around
the outpost, I threw all the trash in and went to see Carefire.
On my way to him, I went to my room first and left the extra
weapons. After a little thought, I put the “Punishment” in the
case and fastened it to the backpack. Why? Quite a good name
for the weapon: Punishment, Punish, Pushy. Now, there will be
something to talk about with the commander of the outpost
when I try to clarify everything. Entering the administrative
building, I witnessed an interesting situation. Right in the
lobby of the building, an unconscious man was being loaded
onto a gravity platform, and judging by the actions of the men
in the uniform armor, this operation had already been worked
out to the smallest detail.

- Hey guys, what’s happened here? - I decided to ask about the
situation.
- “Well, one of the replicants has blacked out at the wrong
time again,” one of the soldiers replied to me, without even
turning to me.
- “You mean he crashed out, right? - Well, I, of course,
understand perfectly well that the player had just went back
into real life, but it’s really terrible to learn what the local
NPCs think about it.
- “They have this situation,” said the second soldier. - “I don’t
remember exactly how the scientists explained it to us, but in a
nutshell, replicants have a problem with adapting after their
recovery, and sometimes they crash down in unexpected
places.”
- “Well, they told us differently,” the first one got up again,
“I’ll try to phrase it correctly … Yeah, it seems like they said:
‘The casts that have been in storage for more than ten years
have some sort of storage conditions so that the replication
process does not greatly affect the mental state after
replication.’ I don’t understand it all fully. But that’s not the
point, the problem is that now, when these casts were restored,
the majority had a problem with their perception of reality.
That’s why the Server periodically sort of turns them off, so
that they don’t go crazy, and the server determines the
duration of the shutdown of consciousness for each replicant
individually. Hence, the problems they have with
communicating, when they begin to say all kinds of nonsense,
like claiming we aren’t real and all that other stuff.”
- “Now I get it! You said that as if you’d been reading it from a
book! Ok, we’d better go because we are up to our eyeballs in
work. Right now, we have to deliver this body, and then we
have to take care of some techies, who’ve also had their bodies
turned off.”
After saying that, they drove off, along with their gravitational
platform. And I was left standing, looking at the entrance
where they’d disappeared, and trying to collect my thoughts.

Now I understand how the developers worked hard and came
up with twisted plots and tricky solutions for this game. It
would be great to meet and listen to the full version from one
of the scientists. Everything would probably be described in
detail, with references to medicine and various sciences.
Honestly, I’m beginning to respect them for the enormous
amount of work they’ve done, that’s for sure - there is a
complete background story, and all of the events can be
explained in terms of real physical laws.
At last, I managed to get to the place where I’d wanted to go.
Mr. Carefire, to my delight, was in his office, but I had to wait
in the corridor for almost forty minutes until he finished his
meeting. When a dozen people left his office, discussing
something, I was finally able to enter. At first, I didn’t even
recognize him, only the name with his level was still above
him, which proved that it was really Carefire.
- “I see you’re parading around in your underwear today.” He
was also wearing only a silver set of clothes, similar to the
ones you had on when exiting the replicator.
- Yes, I sent my armor in for repairs, - he said. - The creatures
broke through the perimeter; almost everyone had to join the
battle. Where have you been all this time? – He asked me.
- “I’ve been raiding; they hadn’t informed me that you had
such big problems here.”
-You haven’t received the newsletter, have you? - “No.”
- Hmm … that’s very strange, since it was sent to everyone. –
The slightly detached look in his eyes and the shifty pupils
meant that he was searching through his interface. - Damn,
you’re on my other mailing list. Done, from now on, you will
receive all the notifications. - “And how often does this sort of thing happen around here?”

- It depends. Sometimes once a week, sometimes a couple of
months pass between the breakthroughs. It’s hard to predict. A
breakthrough begins somewhere under the first level, and then,
like a wave, goes up through the levels. It can come here in a
day, and sometimes it goes sluggishly, and it only reaches us
after several days. It should be noted that we have no
observers at the fourth level. – And then he sighed heavily. They never survive the breakthroughs there, so we know by
virtue of them not surviving that there’s going to be one. - “So, we should constantly expect such breakthroughs?”
- Well, it’s not always the same. For it to happen next week is
almost improbable, but then, every day, the chance for it is
higher and higher. - “Okay, that’s clear, but I’m here to ask about something else
as well. Do you remember the items I was asking about? The
ones which Carso gave me the data on. “
- I remember, by you’ve received the data, haven’t you? - he
asked.
- “They sent me the info, but another problem has arisen.” I
uncovered the rifle and laid it on the table in front of him. I
also sent him a packet of information about it. “The question
worth a million: what kind of profession is that, the one in
these restrictions?”
- That’s a good rifle! - Having studied the info a little, he
added: - Well, I haven’t even heard of such a profession. - “That’s bad, then I have to go to Sanych.”
- You can try, if no one else knows; only that old man may
have the answers you need. - “Then on to the next point: I need a good technician,
preferably one specializing in Cyborgs.”
- What, you’ve decided to install a pair of implants? - “No, it’s not for me but for another person, I will not tell you
all the details right now, so as not to jinx it, but believe me, in
the end, you will profit from it.”

- This is already becoming a tradition: you appear in my
office, and you have some sort of crazy idea that will probably
work out great. - “Um …” I’d already had such a thought as well. “Well, yes,
it seems that way. Damn, now I just feel very uncomfortable
somehow.”
- Calm down, I am not bored with you at least. Hell, if not for
you, I would die of boredom here, sorting through all these
reports and all the problems of the outpost. I’ve contacted the
commander of my engineering service; he’ll be waiting for you
in the technical zone in half an hour. - “Well good! And the last thing: I need a good doctor…”
- What for? - He interrupted me - A couple of hours in the
regenerator, and you’ll be good as new. - “No, I specifically need a doctor, a real one, and not just the
operator of the regeneration capsule; preferably from the
ranks of the replicants.”
- What happened? - “Well … Uh …”
- Don’t mumble, I have a vested interest in your staying
healthy. Who else can find such interesting things for me? The
others, if they find something, immediately go to their clans, as
you call them. And the outpost doesn’t develop at all. - “Yes, I have problems with my head. At first, I thought it was
because of stress and constantly going too far, but the more
time passes, the more often it happens.”
- What sort of issues do you have? - “I behave a bit differently than I would in real …” Damn, I
almost said it. “Than I remember behaving: I’m more easily
distracted, I act more irrationally than before, and so on.”
- Hmmm … the mind is really a problem, especially with
replicants. Yeah, and on top of that, I haven’t noticed any
spontaneous outages with you. Okay, I’ll find a doctor for you,
but I can’t promise I can find him right away. -

- “Thank you all the same. I have to go now.” Then I added:
“I won’t disturb you any further, you can flaunt your
nakedness now.”
Picking the rifle up from the table, I quickly exited the room.
Just as I closed the door behind me, I heard something
crashing into it from the other side. I suspect that the boot was
the only item of clothing that had remained on him from his
armor. set Okay, now I shall go to the store to buy some
drinks, and then I will have a talk with the techie and visit
Sanych. I hope that the old grump will be able to tell me
something about the profession, otherwise I won’t even be
able to sell this crap, and I’ll have to just throw it away into
the garbage recycler, because I’m being mocked, surely. I’ve
been carrying these things for god knows how long, and I
haven’t been able to use them yet.

CHAPTER XXV: GOING OUT ON A LIMB

I’ve spent nearly two hours going over the details of my order
with the technician: he keeps insisting on a pragmatic
approach while I’m trying to stick to the original plan.
- How do you still not get it! - He shouted at me. - These items
don’t have any real combat potential! You’re wasting my time.
- “I can find a use for them, don’t you worry. Just do what I
asked you.”
- You’re an idiot. At first, I’d thought you wanted something
that would be useful in a fight, but now I’m starting to realize
that you’re just ordering a toy for yourself. - “That’s just not true! One person is going to be using this,
and for them it’ll be a perfect fit.”
- Just don’t come crying to me later, saying: “Leksha, you
were right, please make the alterations you suggested before.”
- “Don’t worry; should I return, I will only ask you to improve
this thing, not make any annoying changes.”
- It’s your money. What do you want me to change here? After talking to the technician, I left. I must’ve gone
temporarily insane since my order cost me nearly all my
savings – fifty fucking million credits! And that was at a
discount. I couldn’t have imagined spending so much money
before, but now, when I had it, I had reluctantly agreed to
spend it all at once. After all, if everything works out, it’ll be
an extraordinary boon for me. It should be done in two weeks,
or maybe less, depending on how things go.

Since I’d done all I had to do and bought a lot of booze, I
could now visit Sanych. He was delighted to see me again, but
when he saw the liquor that I’d brought with me, he was even
more overjoyed. Twenty minutes later, we were sitting around
and chatting about all kinds of things, but then I remembered
why I’d come to visit him in the first place. I laid the rifle out
on the table which caused him to hit it so hard it nearly broke
as he began to yell at me:
- Take this ***** and go ***** yourself! Make sure I never
see you or that ***** again or I’ll make sure you die enough
times to stop being replicated! He didn’t even let me respond; he made me pick up the rifle
and, after grabbing me by the collar, threw me out of the room
like a kitten. I got the “concussion” debuff by smashing my
head into the wall when I landed. Now I was lying beside the
wall, holding the rifle and I couldn’t understand what had
happened. Just seeing the rifle had apparently been enough to
provoke him. There was more to this set, if Sanych had reacted
so violently. Hell, even the fact he’d thrown me out wasn’t as
important as what he’d tearfully murmured as he’d done so:
“I took care of him like my own son and this is what he …”
I didn’t hear anything else, but even that tidbit was enough to
unsettle me. Especially since I didn’t understand why he’d
reacted like that. Getting up, I stood by the door for a bit,
wondering if I should try to clear the air. Remembering what
Sanych had been doing at the shooting range, I decided to wait
and let him cool off. I wanted to let myself calm down as well.
I’d been very hurt by how callously he’d treated me, after all.
In the meantime, it would be better to have Carefire talk to the
old man and explain to him that I’d had no idea he’d get so
offended. After another minute of standing by the door, I
turned around and headed toward my room.

I have to first calm down and then I can deal with Sanych. I
don’t know how others relieve their stress, but, in my personal
opinion, you can only get rid of it in three ways: you either get
drunk, have sex with a pretty girl or punch someone in the
face. I wasn’t used to drinking alone, I hadn’t yet spotted any
brothels around here, so I was left with getting some ammo
and going out to commit genocide on the local animal
populace. When I reached the room, I got everything I’d need
while also writing a letter to Carefire. After explaining the
problem, I asked him to talk to Sanych. Then I went over to
the information terminal, using it to look for a group.

There were so many things to sift through and all kinds of
people were available, but there was one constant – melee
fighters, especially tanks, were in high demand. This was quite
easy to understand: since pain was so intense, very few people
wanted to get injured. Before I found an ad I was interested in,
I had to scroll through three pages’ worth of useless idiocy.
However, there was a rather interesting announcement on the
fourth page. I was surprised to see they hadn’t yet found a
group; I would’ve thought a lot of people would be interested.
Posted by: Tilorn
Required: Fighter proficient at medium and close range
Note: We’ve been tasked with clearing out territory by the
outpost and we need an experienced close to mid-range
fighter, preferably armed with automatic weapons, to support
the frontline and supporting fighters. The game mode is 12/4
and we will only work with those that agree to making a
contract that the Server approves.
After sending an e-mail to this Tilorn, I received an invitation
to a local bar to discuss all the details. Upon arriving, I almost
immediately found the man. I, of course, have a rather high
level of perception, and even in real life I am good at noticing
details, but there was no need for my skills here. First of all,

besides the bartender, there was only one other person there.
Even if the room had been full, he would’ve immediately been
conspicuous. He was even bigger than Elephant!
He was about seven feet tall, maybe even 7’2. Definitely
bigger than anyone I’d seen before. He couldn’t fit in a
standard plastic chair, so he was sitting on a large box that had
apparently been made specifically for him. Yes, I understand
that there are quite a lot of plus sized people in the world, but
this guy was just unreal. He had a long, disheveled beard and
curly hair down to his shoulders. Both were completely gray.
He wasn’t blond, he didn’t dye his hair white, he was actually
gray-haired. Approaching him, just in case, I decided to
confirm things and avoid any possible confusion.
- “Are you Tilorn?” He nodded in response and then asked
me, in turn:
- Are you Volper? - To which I also nodded. - Sit down, let’s
talk. Placing my backpack and weapon near the chair, I sat down
and stared at Tilorn, who placed his palms on the table. He
closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly - it
was clear that this wasn’t the first time he’d arranged to do an
interview here and he was already tired of it. Then he opened
his eyes and started talking.
- I’ll explain the somewhat complicated situation to you, at
least the bare bones of it, send you the contract, and if
everything’s OK with you, you’ll accept it. You can only ask
questions afterward, because some of the information is
protected by a non-disclosure clause. Do you agree to that?
- “Well, I’ll hear you out, at least.” I’ll admit, I was already
having some second thoughts, due to how odd this all seemed.

- To begin with, our group is quite unusual, and has four
players in it: a medic, a technician, a sapper, and … a scout. He paused for only a split second, but I managed to notice it.
It was, obviously, not just a regular scout, but something more
exotic. I kept listening. – As stated in the announcement, we
clear out territory for the outpost, but there is one peculiarity:
We ONLY do that. It’s because of… let’s say, some features of
our group that we don’t raid or go into dungeons. And, last but
not least: we spend the most time possible in here and we need
a person who can, if necessary, withstand being in the game
for twelve hours, with four hour breaks. Ideally, there is a way
to reset the timer once you’re out, sometimes allowing you to
go a full day with just a six-hour break. So, what do you think
of that? -

Today’s been crazy. Either I’m extremely unlucky or have
things practically falling into my lap. This group was very
interesting; I already understood why they’d had a problem
recruiting people into their clan. Four characters, none of them
with a strictly combat oriented profession – that’s not ideal. On
top of that, they would impose odd restrictions on you. I have
to admit, I was very interested in this group. Some things
would need to be clarified, I still had far too little information.
Obviously, I would also need to figure out if they’re
compatible with my playstyle, but if at least some of my
suspicions proved correct, they would be. I was hoping it
would work out.
- “I’m okay with everything, for now. Send me the contract
and I’ll take a look at it.” It seemed like I’d surprised him with
my answer.
- You’re not confused by any of it? - “A lot of it is confusing, but so far, everything appears
legitimate, I have some time and I need experience fighting in
a group in this game. I might as well give your group a
chance, no?”
- Okay, here’s the contract then. –

Attention! You are signing a contract.
Terms of the agreement:
The contract is between the Replicant Volper … blah blah
blah … and the Replicant Tilorn … blah blah again …,
Replicant Castra … Replicant Quartz … and again …
Replicant Sargos … Where is the text? Oh, here it is: Each
of these parties will undertake joint measures in order to
clear the territories and prepare for these sweeps from the
moment of signing the contract, according to the list of tasks
provided by outpost No. 5-17 23, in a group, for at least
sixteen hours a day. The distribution of profits received
during this time shall be in the form of money and items,
with all the parties receiving an equal share. Also, all who
sign the contract agree to not disclose any information
received during the term of the agreement to any other
persons, without the permission of all who have signed the
agreement, regardless of the time that has passed after the
mutual signing of the agreement. The contract is valid only
until the first time one of the parties asks for it to end, and
the option to request such a thing will only be available 5
days after the signing.
Additional fines: in case of non-compliance with the
conditions, the party that violated the contract must pay two
million credits to the other parties, contingent on them not
having violated the terms.
Accept the contract?
Yes/ No

This made me even more curious. They’re trying to use this
contract to cover something up. It all still seems a bit shady, to
put it mildly, but I think I can use it to my advantage. I only
had to decide if I hated not knowing or being restricted more. I
had already forgotten that I’d originally just wanted to blow
off some steam. This group and their very interesting secrets
had already hooked me.

Indeed, even the fact that Tilorn was the only one sitting in
front of me showed that the mere presence of the other
members could’ve revealed more to me. Or that the others
were more likely to blurt things out. All in all, why am I so
nervous? I came here to enjoy the last years of my life to the
fullest; there is no final death here, and I’ll deal with the rest
later. I remembered how one of our sergeants used to tell us
these simple words before each landing: “We’ll live, we won’t
die.” I decided to take his advice and stop worrying so much,
it would be fine. Then I mentally pressed the “Yes” button.
Tilorn froze for a bit, since he’d obviously expected me to not
accept the contract, as many others had undoubtedly rejected it
before. Credit where credit’s due, he was only stunned for a
few moments and then confirmed it on his end as well.
- Since everything is okay with you and you’ve confirmed the
contract, you can now ask your questions. - “Not yet!” Apparently, the man was quite expressive, since I
could easily see the confusion and shock on his face, but I kept
talking, not giving him a chance to interrupt me. “Send me the
coordinates for where we’ll meet as a group, preferably
somewhere outside the perimeter, and we’ll talk there. I have
another meeting to get to right now, which means I don’t have
the time to talk.”
I can’t know for sure what he thought of my reply, but he just
nodded, sent the coordinates and, after getting up from his
box, left the tavern. Maybe he’d accepted my explanation, or
maybe the bartender worried him, even though we were sitting
far away from him and he couldn’t hear our conversation. But
I had my reasons to postpone the conversation. After waiting
for him to leave, I ordered a couple of light, non-alcoholic
cocktails, and after the bartender brought them left, I decided
to turn to my guest.

- “Sit down, let’s talk.” There was no reaction to my words.
“Do I have to shoot you in the leg to make you understand that
I’m talking to you?”
I took out a pistol and aimed it at a slight distortion in the air.
Almost immediately, Siniami revealed herself, and, after
coming up to the table, sat opposite me and began to sip her
cocktail.
- How? - she asked, looking up at me over the rim of her glass.
- “It was easy enough, I have eyes.”
- I didn’t… ask that. - “Now my fault your question was vague.” Heh, she wasn’t
used to people talking to her like that, she seemed annoyed.
- Ok, let me be more direct. How did you know that I was
there? - She gestured toward the corner with her head.
- “Not just there. I noticed you in your clan hall as well.”
Taking a small sip of the cocktail, I calmly continued. “I could
go on about the suspicious behavior of the others, how things
didn’t look normal, etc. But I won’t criticize you and the other
kiddies. Instead, here’s a free lesson. A set of high-tech
mimicry gear doesn’t achieve complete invisibility; a blurred
silhouette of oscillating air is still there because the air flows
around your body change with the trajectory of your
movement, as if drawing your contour. And you don’t seem
used to properly using the tech. I figure you rely on skills that
hide you more fully, most of the time, so you forget to factor in
things like the sound of footsteps, possible tracks you might
leave behind and so on. Hell, even breathing can give you
away.”
- You aren’t as simple as you try to appear, - she said, pursing
her lips tightly as she no doubt berated her own shortcomings
internally.

Well, how could she not be annoyed? She’d probably
considered herself a mega-explorer with a stunningly good
stealth suit that allowed her to be completely invisible. And
then I came along and showed her she was far from perfect,
not even close to it, almost rubbing her face in it.
- Can we stop with the silly games now? Honestly, these antics
of yours… these attempts to show how cool you are, well,
they’re just ridiculous. Or do you think that I would ever
believe, even for a second, that the head of the clan’s
intelligence agency would be sent to monitor someone
unimportant? You’re obviously interested in me, probably
have some info on me already. - “Who would we have gotten it from?” Her face now had a
much more genuine expression on it. Wide eyed, her pupils
dilated, she appeared like she wanted to look around, but
nipped that reflexive desire in the bud. She even looked
genuinely surprised, bordering on frightened.
- Sini, either you will learn to ask the right questions, or you
will get stupid answers. - Noticing a flickering shadow near
one of the distant windows, I added. - And if you don’t tell
your support group to back off, there will be no further
conversation at all. She hesitated for about five seconds, but then her gaze
unfocused a little. Apparently, she was giving commands
through the neural interface, and judging by the duration and
the accompanying facial expressions, she was having to argue
about them with someone. When she resumed our
conversation, her tone and demeanor changed dramatically.
She was trying very hard to be polite, which confused me.
- “Done! They’ve all left. Do you mind if another person joins
us here?”
- Sure; he or she will also bring us our drinks if we order any. -

- “What do you mean?” Her face scrunches up in a very
amusing way when she’s surprised.
- Don’t you understand?! You overdid the order so much that
even the bartender left. Still, I’ll admit I hadn’t known it was
your bar until that happened. Turning around to look at the bar, and making sure that the
bartender had truly disappeared, she smacked her face with her
palm. I don’t remember exactly what this gesture is called: a
“facepalm” or maybe a “facesmack?”. I understood why she
did it: it had been so stupid to get rid of the bartender as well –
just way too much. I honestly can’t comprehend why serious
organizations still play these kinds of games.
- “Okay, now, could you please answer my question: how did
you find out that I’m the head of the clan’s intelligence
agency?”
- No one told me; it’s just that, during our fight, the group
seemed to be commanded by Elephant, but at the same time,
he kept glancing at you, as if waiting for you to approve each
command. Plus, the commander doesn’t have to cover the
group, as he did, and when Tarconite came to us, there was a
suspicious moment where, after you said something, he
abruptly changed his mind. - “Was it that obvious?”
- No, but for those who know where to look, it was very
noticeable. -

That made her think for a while. The girl seemed bright
enough, just too emotional and not yet experienced enough to
handle all of it properly. But that’s okay, she’ll learn in time. I
think that she’s a bit over thirty, and most likely even younger
than that, so there’s plenty of time for her to learn. Then
someone new entered the bar, leaving me a little bewildered:

level 6, wearing a rather poor outfit. Was he the one she’d
mentioned earlier? But then I noticed the device in his hands
and realized that this was just a messenger. Walking over to
the table, he set up a device that resembled a large metal
pancake with a few buttons, turned around and left.
- “An ally of ours really wanted to talk to you, but given that
there’s no way of getting from one outpost to another, he will
be present here as a hologram, since that’s the only way to
communicate for now. Of course, you are a very interesting
player, but I don’t understand what got him so interested in
you.
- And how interested is he? - “So much so that he’s ready to help the members of our clan
stuck in the other outposts which, believe me, is worth a lot.”
Then she reached out and turned on the hologram. The image
of a middle-aged man in armor, which resembled a lightweight
amphibious assault kit, appeared above the metal surface. An
instinct made me tense up, my entire body coiled like one
huge spring. And only after a couple of seconds of mutual
consideration did I realize that I was acting like that. His gaze
shone with something familiar, unpleasantly familiar,
something that made me itch to find the nearest escape route.
And when he spoke, all of my doubts vanished.
- “So, it really is you! Well, hello there, Vova. And I’d thought
you’ve been feeding the worms for a long time now. Glad I
was wrong!”
- Andrew? - “I see you recognize me as well,” he smiled in response.
- Go fuck yourself, Andrew! - Then I got up and, after picking
my things up, headed for the exit.
- “Wait, Falcon, cool your jets!” I shuddered at the use of that
old call sign, especially coming from him. Without even

turning around, I responded:
- No, dear Andrew. Falcon died on Rauta, along with the
young boys there. - “Vova, do we really have to start arguing…”
- And Vova also died a couple of weeks ago, when he lay
down in a capsule, so there’s no one left to talk to you. - “Damn, you’re so difficult to talk to, you just don’t
understand the situation…”
- No, you don’t understand! - I interrupted him and, turning
around, approached the hologram. - There is no longer
anything left of either Falcon or Ignatenko! They have been
utterly erased! They paid their debt in full and died, and you
have no right to ask anything of me! YOU especially, or shall I
remind you of Alyona? - He started to say something, but his
mouth slammed shut at those words. I was starting to scream
now, my anger making my blood boil. – I retired a long *****
time ago, I have nothing connecting me to your *****
department, and I’ve come here to have some fun, live quietly
and then die. And then you ***** find me. Remember this,
Andrew: I absolutely don’t give a fuck about what you want
here, but, God forbid that I see you or even one of your
flunkies near me. I am prepared to go to war with you, and
make destroying you my only goal until I die! - Grabbing the
hologram, I smashed it against the wall with all the force I
could muster, turning it into a pile of junk. Then I turned to
Siniami.
- And let me give you some friendly advice: don’t do anything
with or for this man. If you do, you will never scrub the blood
off your hands! – Pausing at the door, I added. - If you plan to
follow me, or send your clan after me, ask yourself this: do
you want to die and respawn over and over? That’s what will
happen if you push me. Now that I was out of the restaurant and standing in the street
again, I took a moment to collect my thoughts. My fate was
indeed unpredictable today. I regret what happened and how it

all went sideways, but I hope my new team will prove good
enough to make up for it.

CHAPTER XXVI: THE TROUBLE WITH CARING

While heading over to meet up with my new group, I ran into
what can only be described as the local equivalent of cats, at
least based on how they looked. They were furry friends you
could pet. However, they didn’t have any fur and, secondly,
they weren’t going to purr if you did. But the flexibility and
feline grace they possessed were a clear sign of what they
were. I noticed them only because one of the cats, in
anticipation of a good catch, had hit a wall by accident and
made a lot of noise.
It was that very sound that had alerted me. I was, at first, glad
to see the meter-tall creature. It was kind of shabby, especially
its tail, and you could see its ribs beneath its skin, which didn’t
exactly make it cute, but I was hoping to take out some
frustrations on it. My hopes were quickly dashed as, upon
realizing it had been spotted, the creature jumped off the wall
and began to approach me, slowly but gracefully.
“Here kitty, come here, kitty,” I tried to lure the creature to
me, slowly lifting the barrel of the machinegun. “Come here,
you little fur coat.”
I don’t know what alerted it: either the movement of my
machinegun or my voice, I did sound like a slightly insane
butcher, but it suddenly changed its trajectory and began trying
to move past me on the left side. I started following it very
slowly, trying not to spook it, when a skill triggered and
alerted me of a possible ambush from another cat. Apparently,
they weren’t as stupid as I’d initially thought. Focusing on the
words floating above the head of the other cat approaching me,
I tensed up once I read its level.
Shinkata, level 10

Its level was too low for it to go after an armed man. Perhaps it
was relying on its partner? For some reason, I remembered
what I’d heard about how some small predators hunt: after the
weakest member of the pack lures in the obviously stronger
opponent and keeps its attention on itself, the rest of the pack
surrounds it from all sides. If memory serves, there could be
several dozen smaller predators in one such group.
Slowly dropping to one knee, I quickly moved the dodge skill
into the active use bar just in case. At the same time, I pressed
the butt of the gun to my shoulder, and, while holding the
machinegun with my right hand, pulled the knife out of its
case with my left. I had moved the holster to my shoulder,
with the handle itself at chest level. Leaving my legs in the
same position as before, I turned my body toward the left side,
in the direction of the cat, which was walking around me in an
arc. While it was trying to distract me, I spotted the other cat
pouncing on me. Unfortunately, I also saw at least two more
shadows closing in on me.
“They’ve surrounded me, the little demons.” The thought
occurred to me while I was already in motion, doing a roll to
change my position; they were hemming me in way too
quickly. Coming out of the roll, I immediately shot a dozen
rounds of ammunition at the nearest Shinkata, killing it off
mid-jump. I stepped back and let another one of the furry
menaces impale itself on my knife, which, unfortunately, left
my knife lodged somewhere in its ribs. The inertia spun me
around, but I kept hold of my gun and kept firing in an arc
around me. This maneuver drove them off only temporarily,
and not even for long. They began to encircle me once more, 4
of them doing the slow preparation, while a fifth was checking
on the, luckily, dead Shinkata that still had my knife lodged in
it.

My blood started to boil from all the anger I’d felt before since
I hadn’t even had the chance to cool off after my talk with
Andrew. Right now, these Shinkata were, to me, the
embodiment of everything that I’d been trying to get rid of for
so long. Somehow, all that crap had found me here, in what I’d
thought of as the last refuge of my weary soul. I’d tried to
forget the past and live the last years of my life in peace, just
surrendering to any and all of my fleeting desires, without any
regard for others. But no, they can’t even give me the chance
to die peacefully.
- Well, kittens, let’s dance! I pressed the quick-release latch on the automatic belt and
leaned the butt against my thigh. I ejected the spent magazine
and was already slipping in a fresh one before the empty one
hit the floor. The sound of it doing so was like a signal for us
to start. Four cats took off, rushing toward me and, at the same
time, I finished replacing the magazine, my lips stretching into
a mad grin. There is no true death here, there is only
temporary oblivion, after which you can come back and take
revenge. Yes, there is some pain that’s even stronger than the
real world equivalent, but that physical pain is nothing
compared to the mental pain that I’ve endured. Because of a
decision made by a man whom I’d considered my friend for
many years, I lost the only ray of light in my otherwise dark,
pointless life.
And now, without her, my life has lost all meaning. I’m not a
man; I’m just a beast that has gone mad and is suffering from
senility. A wretched creature that doesn’t have the courage to
lie down and die, hoping to be reunited with his loved one.
From what felt like the deepest, darkest pit in my soul came a
deafening, animalistic roar that mixed with the sound of the
machinegun fire. The ones in front fell almost instantly. I
dodged to the left, avoiding a pouncing cat, filling it with lead
as it flew by. Noticing another jumping toward me, I ducked,
trying to make it miss me by going over, but didn’t make it in
time. I felt something heavy land on my back. I grabbed the

cat by one of its paws and, bending even further forward, I
threw it over myself. The maneuver left me disoriented, the
Shinkata’s struggles causing me to stumble.
I started firing blindly with my submachine gun. The recoil hit
me, causing me to drop the gun a second after. But, during this
long second, I managed to shove the barrel of the gun into its
eye. My body jumps up and rolls forward, since the automated
dodge had apparently activated. After looking around the
street, I noticed four Shinkata corpses. The last one, which had
been wounded at the beginning of the battle, turned around
and began coming after me, emboldened by the fact I’d lost
my gun. Slightly limping, it still only had to leap twice to get
near me, leaving behind a bloody streak on the floor. Then it
jumped, aiming its fangs at my throat.
Slightly lowering my head, I met its mouth with the front part
of my helmet, and gripped its impressive claws tightly with
both hands. With my hands preoccupied, I couldn’t grab a
weapon, making the situation almost inevitably fatal for me.
Without even thinking about it, I tried to sink my teeth into the
neck of this creature. It had ended up right in front of me, so it
wasn’t too difficult to just tear out chunks of its throat and spit
them out to the side. Its struggles gradually weakened, but not
before we ended up rolling around on the ground. I calmed
down and stopped biting it only when the cat was dead. Rising
to my feet and finding no more opponents around, I swiped
my palm across my face. After spitting out the last remnants of
bloody flesh, I proceeded to give the dead Shinkata a heartfelt
eulogy:
- I should’ve put some salt on you first, and then eaten you,
*****; you are not tasty! After checking my status, I realized that I had once again
passed right in front of death’s door. The plate of the
bulletproof vest that covered my abdomen was covered in

scratches from the claws of the cat’s hind legs, with only a
couple of millimeters of armor left to protect my stomach.
After reviewing the battle logs, gloating a bit, I noted that I’d
done continuous critical hits with my teeth. It was kind of
funny, of course, but the fact that I’d even allowed myself to
end up in such a situation, bereft of weapons, relying on my
teeth alone, was very regrettable. After collecting my weapon
and making sure everything was in order, I looked at the map,
trying to determine how far I had left to reach the meeting
point. It turned out that I was only a couple of hundred meters
away. I stood around for a while, my eyes riveted to the five
corpses, thinking it over, and then typed a message to Tilorn,
sending him my current coordinates and asking for the rest of
them to meet me here.
In the meantime, I took out my flask of water and began
cleaning up, washing away the blood stains. When the group
appeared from around the corner of the building, I was simply
amazed. Even if I have seen a lot over the course of my life,
the sight of Tilorn accompanied by two pimply teens and a
young girl — was still a shock to me. Okay, I don’t look my
age at all, so I won’t jump to any hasty conclusions.
I should first get to know them well and then decide what to
do from there.
- Hello! - I said to them. - Sorry I summoned you here, but
some unexpected corpses popped up and, unfortunately, I have
no way to transport them properly. - “Dude, don’t worry, everything will be ready to go very
quickly! Now, we will just collect all the goodies…” - one of
the guys, the one with reddish hair, leapt forward eagerly, but,
seeing Tilorn’s angry look, changed his approach: “Um…
We’ll, uh, collect them now, we have everything we need.”
After that, the two guys started cutting up the cats, and in the
meantime, after I received an invitation to join the group from
Tilorn, I started to examine these people. The ginger haired

guy was called Quartz, and he was a “Technician-operator,” a
very unusual profession. He apparently didn’t wear a helmet,
because his head was covered only by some round glasses
with an elastic band serving as their frame. He had a simple,
open body armor that protected only his chest and back, over a
brown jumpsuit. He also had fingerless gloves and his legs
were protected by high top shoes with plastic clasps.
He also had a lot of other pouches on his belt and body armor.
He was armed with some kind of short-barreled gun, but most
of it was hidden by a backpack, from which only the butt stuck
out, therefore, it wasn’t possible to determine the type of his
weapon. Turning his head, he bumped into the second boy.
This one had a huge, almost overly full backpack and he kept
taking out vacuum bags from it to pack the Shinkata organs
into. This guy was more properly equipped: shoes that were
reinforced along the toe and heel, shin guards, forearm guards,
knee pads and elbow pads.
Aramid pads were fastened to the bottom of the vest along the
sides, protecting the outer side of his thighs, while also having
pouches hanging from them. Above the vest, he had shoulder
pads and a gorget, also made of aramid. All this increased
protection was topped off by a battle helmet with a raised face
shield. I was surprised to find he had no gloves on. He was
armed with two huge revolvers that had only five rounds in the
drums, but were a rather large caliber.
- May I help you? - I asked.
In response, he just shook his head without even pausing.
Well, God bless you, I guess you’ll be quite a great teammate.
Tilorn, who had come up behind me, patted me on the
shoulder, nodding his head as he suggested I move a little to
one side. To my surprise, he turned out to be a field medic, or
some sort of strange physician. He was wearing tight, heavy
metal armor, which covered almost his entire body, except for
the joints. No amplifiers of any kind were visible. On the back,

or rather on the left side of it, there were three rows of fairly
large spines, ending at the left shoulder, but the right side was
absolutely smooth.
No backpack, no automatic weapons, only a large shield and a
massive mechanical hammer were attached to his back.
Wait… did they have a medic who was also the tank? In order
to fully grasp the absurdity of this group, I cast a glance at the
icon of the final member. Seeing the name of the profession,
my eye began to twitch: why did they have a spy saboteur in
this group?!
I tried to spot the final team member, but she wasn’t where I’d
last seen her. Even looking around intently, I wasn’t able to
locate her. But how?! How had she been able to slip away
without me even noticing it? Turning to Tilorn, I wanted to
point out that a member of the team was missing, but then I
met the eyes of the girl who was right behind me and gave me
a slight bow.
Damn, that’s really creepy, only Krill had been able to sneak
up on me like that. Of course, with his level, it was
understandable, but this girl was only level 18. By the way,
everyone was level eighteen; I felt like a dumbass, being only
level 16. She was dressed in a dark gray suit, with polymer
seals protecting the most important organs, as well as her
elbows and knees. She didn’t seem to have any weapons, only
some very thick gloves on her hands. Seeing that I’d noticed
her, she calmly turned to Tilorn and uttered just one word:
- “Acceptable.” After that, she retired to the nearest ruins.

Okay… And these guys will be the ones I go into battle with.
Alright, well, let’s see how they handle a combat situation. I

get the feeling I might end up spending all of my time teaching
them.
- Well? - I demanded, coming up to Tilorn.
- “Volper, look, I’ve decided to immediately clear up a couple
of things.” Wow, he’s hesitating like a girl about to lose her
virginity. “I think, because of our agreement, that this is quite
important information for you to have.” And he was hesitating
again, apparently choosing his words carefully. “I probably
wouldn’t have said anything at all, but I need to ask you to be
gentle and patient with everyone. I doubt you would agree to
it, if I don’t explain why they’re acting the way they are. And,
admittedly, the clause in the contract does prevent you from
speaking about it…”
- Tilorn, stop beating around the bush, out with it! - I
interrupted him.
- “You’re right, it’s better to get to the point straight away.
Have you heard about the Ignatenko precedent?” My mind
froze like someone had pressed the emergency shutoff button.
- Um … the precedent where some patients got the opportunity
to always be in the virtual world, without having to come back
to reality?
- “Yes, that’s it. Our clinic decided to launch a pilot project,
with several of our wards participating. I don’t have the right
to disclose any further details, I’ll just inform you that these
people are participants in the project, and I am looking out for
them. I’d like to ask you to understand that they have a
number of small psychological problems. Please, when
working with them, have a bit more understanding and
tolerance for their various antics and oddities.”
- Wait a second, if we take into account the contract that we
signed, and everything else, like doctor-patient confidentiality,
I don’t get why you’re telling me this. It’s not like you need to.
- “Well, how can I explain this… You aren’t the first who’s
tried to work with our group. As you can see, we have a very

unusual team. The others, for the most part, reacted very
negatively to our group and their words were harmful for the
emotional state of my wards.”
- Well *****, what did you expect? This is a bloody, cruel
world, where pain can even be more intense than the normal
sensations! Even without the other people reacting poorly to
them, surely you didn’t expect this to go well! – I almost began
shouting at him, but I managed to refrain myself just in time. –
Seriously, are you joking right now, or are you just so dense
that you legitimately thought this would be a good idea? I felt pity as I looked at him: sagging lifelessly and hunched
over, he turned his gaze to the floor. It was clear that his
charges didn’t belong here. I wanted to hurl some more abuse
at him, but I stopped myself in time, seeing his demeanor. It
seemed like he himself understood all of this as well, which
made all of this even more confusing. Well, even if the good
doctor is a moron, he wouldn’t have thrust his patients into
such a hardcore game. I was missing something here. After all,
with such a precedent established, surely they could’ve found
more favorable virtual worlds to immerse these poor people in.
- Why did you bring them here? - I asked after calming down,
even using a fairly normal tone of voice.
- “The Ignatenko precedent is currently applicable only to
Alfarome. There’s a legal battle going on right now to enable
them to go into virtual reality without any restrictions.”
That took the wind right out of my sails. I couldn’t even
muster up a response. Asking him to give me a couple of
minutes to think about it, I stepped aside and sat down on a
large piece of rubble. Would you look at that! I’ve created a
legal precedent with my court case. Now it’s possible for quite
a few people with limited functionality to feel whole again, at
least in VR, and without having to return to their sick bodies.

But at the same time, Alfarome is the only world where they
can live permanently, at least for now. The fuck is happening
here? It’s like a giving candy to a child, but after making sure
to smear it in pepper. Where does that leave me? My actions
have given them a chance. Still, I feel like it’s better to break
the contract and pay the fine, rather than deal with the
headache. When I was about to get up and go to talk to Tilorn,
Castra suddenly sat down next to me, which almost made me
flinch; that was the second time she’d managed to approach
me without me noticing. She was some kind of mystic, for
sure.
- “You’re strange,” she said, looking straight ahead. “I used
to think that we are strange. But, in comparison to you, we’re
still normal.”
- Why do you think that I’m strange? - I asked, caught off
guard by her saying something like that.
- “Well, think about it. You appear very young, but the look in
your eyes is far older. It makes me want to ask you for a
bedtime story while you hold me in your arms, or that you buy
me a gift for my birthday. Now look at Tilorn; he’s so tense,
constantly looking around and trying to spot anything
dangerous before it gets to us. The guys, on the contrary, are
passionate about collecting all the loot, but are otherwise
quite relaxed. Almost everyone I’ve seen so far behaves one of
two ways: either they’re extremely serious, or they’re just like
tourists. And yet, here you are, having a rest, seemingly
completely relaxed… Except for your eyes, which give you
away by never pausing, always scanning everything around
you. You’re odd in other ways too, but I’ll focus on two more
things. You seem like a good player, considering your gear,
and yet, you’re level 16. All the good players have reached
level 25 by now. And, last but not least, the way you look at us.
Most people seemed disgusted or like they were condemning
us. Sometimes, we’d even get sympathy or envy. But you are
the first to look at us like we’re children, with a slight smile on
your face. Like an old man watching his grandchildren playing
in the sandbox. That’s why I say that you are strange.”

Without waiting for my reply, she got up and went over to the
guys who were butchering the last body. Looking at her
walking away, I finally realized how she’d been able to get
close to me without me noticing her. She simply wasn’t
perceived as a potential danger, and even my trained
subconscious mind would simply disregard her movements as
an insignificant detail. Even now, looking directly at her, it
was hard to focus on where she was going, like following the
path of a leaf falling from a tree. Even if you stare at it, you
end up unable to remember how exactly it got down to the
ground. Interesting… I wondered if this was an ability she had
in the game, or maybe even one from real life? Enough
distractions, I had to talk to Tilorn.
- Hey, Doc, - I began, walking up to Tilorn. – I won’t ask you
for any confidential info, but I do have some questions. - “Ask away.”
- How old are they? How many of them are there? - “Three in total. Two are 18, the third one is 19.”
- Can they make it? In the real world. - “I doubt it,” he replied, after thinking on it for a couple of
seconds. “They’ve been on life support for a long time, and,
unfortunately, all of it was spent in a medically induced
coma.” After his response, we both became quiet for a few
minutes, lost in our thoughts.
- Why did you bring them here? – I finally asked.
- “I don’t know,” he answered, sounding sad and defeated. “At
first, I just wanted to give them a substitute for a full, proper
life. I hoped this project could give them, and others like them,
a chance at rehabilitation. Now, after seeing what this world is
like… I don’t know what to do.”
- Well, fairy tales and birthday gifts are a good start - I
muttered to myself.

- “What?”
- I said, come on, we still have tasks to do for the outpost,
right? They need to get used to combat, as well. We rejoined the others. I was still thinking about their
situation. If someone had asked me why I’d changed my mind
so drastically, I wouldn’t have been able to give them an
answer. Maybe I felt sorry for them, or I’d decided to help
these children because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if
I didn’t. Hell, it could’ve been temporary insanity. But I knew
one thing for sure: for some reason, I was feeling good right
now, and I was walking around smiling like an old fool, not
even bothering to hide it.

CHAPTER XXVII: FURTHER INTO THE FOREST…

After we had reached the territory that we were meant to be
clearing, we decided to get some rest. After that, we would
proceed directly to eradicating the monsters.
“Tilorn, tell me exactly what we are meant to be doing here.”
“Damn, I forgot to share the details with you,” He slapped his
forehead, and a notification came through almost immediately.
Attention! You have an offer to take part in the task of clearing
the area around outpost No. 5-17-23.
Sender: Tilorn (currently performing the task).
Details of the task:
1. Check the indicated area for any danger to the technicians.
If you detect any danger, eliminate it.
2. Install a beacon and wait for the technicians to arrive.
Penalty for failure: none.
Penalty for failure: the task will be assigned to another group.
Awards: 75,000 experience (for all participants), 30,000
credits (for all participants). Any trophies discovered on the
site (other than equipment and personal belongings of the
outpost employees).
Additional penalties: in case equipment or personal
belongings of the outpost’s employees have been concealed:
loss of reputation with outpost No. 5-17-23. Additionally, a
fine will be levied, amounting to the estimated value of such
hidden items.
Do you accept these terms and conditions: Yes / No?

I accepted. “More details, please?” I requested.
“You see this complex of three buildings? Before the
breakthrough, they managed to occupy the complex and
started delivering equipment there, but during the
breakthrough they lost control. We need to check all the floors
there for monsters. If you find any, kill them. Then we will
bring in technicians and several fighters to cover them and
hand over the building to them. We get ten thousand for each
cleared building. If we find something serious, we usually
retreat and report to the outpost, who pass it on to a group that
can handle it.”
“I don’t see the point of clearing them for the outpost’s
benefit. After all, we can just go in and grab these buildings
for ourselves, and make quite a lot of money.”
“We could, true. And just what are you going to gain by
keeping these buildings?”
“I can sell them.”
“Okay, but who would buy them? In the first two weeks these
properties were worth a lot. Some successful groups became
billionaires immediately, and the lazy ones did fine for the first
week, making at least several million credits each.”
“I don’t understand. If the property was worth so much then,
what’s the problem now?”
“Um … Okay, let me give you an explanation, since I see you
don’t understand the local economy at all. For example, do
you know the price around here for an average-quality set of
armor for level twenty-five?”
“If it’s a full set, then about half a million,” I said, after
making a rough estimate of the current rates.
“Right. That’s despite the fact that at level 20, you can buy a
set for a hundred k. Do you know why there’s such a big
difference?”
“No, I don’t.” Well, trading in here just isn’t one of my skills.

“You see, this price difference is simply the result of
shortages. Take another week or two, and a set for level 25
will also cost about the same – one hundred k or one hundred
and fifty k. It’s because most of the players will have crossed
that line already and gotten level 30, and will start selling their
old armor, thus dumping them on the market and causing
prices to plummet. As a result, we’ll get a situation where
supply exceeds the demand.”
“But what about real estate?”
“Well, that’s the opposite. While most of the large groups
don’t have enough finance and/or human resources to develop
and maintain infrastructure, the price is low, but locations
which are already equipped or extremely conveniently located
have a high value.”
“So pretty soon real estate will not cost anything at all? After
all, the monsters are gradually being killed and more and more
territories are being cleaned up.”
“Well, in theory, that would be the case, but there have been
breakthroughs which disrupt this, and completely change the
established habitats of the monsters. Here’s the picture. Before
the breakthrough, many players managed to get out to seven
kilometers from the outpost. Only when you’re that far out do
you find a good number of monsters to provide hunting
grounds for many players. Then there was the breakthrough
which limited the conditionally safe zone to three kilometers
out, and you can move about a bit inside these three
kilometers. To clear the zone out to a radius of seven
kilometers again would take at least a week. Add to all this
that we don’t know when and if there will be another
breakthrough.”
“So,” I interrupted Tilorn’s explanation, “it turns out that the
zone where most of our outpost’s players are active is virtually
not growing. To be more precise, it is growing, but extremely
slowly, and it has to be constantly cleared of new monsters.
But at the same time, the amount of money available is
gradually increasing, which means that all new buildings will

soon be owned, all in the same zone. So there will be a gradual
shortage of free real estate, and it will start to increase in
value?
“Well, something like that,” Tilorn agreed. “You can’t
calculate everything by yourself. You’re going to have to find
a good economist and build a model of the economy, because
even the same positions within a single week can either be
worth big money or be sold at cost. Too many factors affect
the price. If there’s a well-established economy at the sixth
level, as a result of external factors having no influence, then
at that level the prices are stable. By the way, as I understand
it, many traders are NPCs; they add chaos to the market as
well, to earn even more.
“Well, I understand you pretty well now.” I paused, and added.
“Okay, let’s get down to business, since everyone has now had
a little rest. So give us a command, taking me into account,
let’s see what we make of it, and then we can do a postmortem error report.”
“Fine, except that you have no profession, so tell me what you
can do and what your specialty is, so that we can come up with
some sort of plan at least.”
“Well, let’s say that I am probably an attack aircraft and
wagon, based on my current equipment.”
My story took about five minutes to tell, with most of the time
taken up with a detailed description of my skills. Of course, I
didn’t talk about all my skills, but only about those that I
judged to be important in this situation, with the current
circumstances. I also mentioned no actual numbers for my
skills, too. Of course, I had decided to help them as much as I
could, but I certainly didn’t want to tell them everything about
myself.
As a result, we made the decision to move forward in the
following order: Tilorn leading the way as a tank, and us

following behind him and a little to the right. I was to provide
cover and control the 12 to 3 o’clock sector. Actually, I was
just told to cover and follow on the right side, but when I’m in
marching column I am used to navigating “by the clock”.
To the left of Tilorn and a little behind me was Castra, a melee
fighter as it turned out, armed with not too high quality
impulse gloves, but they were powerful enough to handle
monsters up to the twentieth level. The second pair, who were
already behind us, were Sargos and Quartz, and they were
supposed to be performing auxiliary functions and covering
our rear.
When we entered the first building and searched the first floor,
which had several fairly large halls, we faced several
problems. First, there were two sets of stairs leading upward,
located at opposite ends of the building. There were also
separate steps leading down to the basement. It wasn’t an
option to divide the group now – not only would this
significantly weaken us, but none of them had played with me
before, either. Tilorn was confused. Apparently, he was not
familiar with such a layout and didn’t know how best to solve
such a problem.

“Hey bro, it’s a no-brainer, right?” Quartz began to speak, but
stopped abruptly. He seemed to be carefully considering what
he wanted to say, and then he continued calmly. “Maybe we
should block off the entrance to the basement and then move
up the stairs in two groups?”
Tilorn disagreed. “It’s a bad idea. If one of the groups runs into
something serious, the second group may not have time to
come to their rescue, because they’ll have to go down to the
floor below and make their way through it, and this will take
valuable time.”

“Why shouldn’t we do it that way? Even if they were trapped
between floors, the second group could strike from the back,
from the floor above.” Quartz didn’t seem to want to calm
down.
“And if there are more monsters on that floor? You suggest
blindly committing the second group as well?”
Well, off we went: arguing, discussing options. Only Sargos
and I did not participate in this heated debate (Sargos, as far as
I could remember, hadn’t said a word since our first meeting).
Me, I was just standing there, controlling the space, and didn’t
bother giving my opinions. First, democracy in combat
operations doesn’t lead to anything positive, and second, I
simply did not know enough about the capabilities of the
others for me to be able to recommend anything. Of course, I
already had a couple of ideas on how to get out of the
situation, but for the time being, I was only watching and
observing the others. This sort of discussion showed me what
they were like quite well, so why not just listen in? To my
surprise, the discussion reached a deadlock, and it was decided
to abandon the task, and we should pass it over to a bigger
group.
“Wait,” said Sargos in a quiet voice, and despite the fact that
he could barely be heard, the whole team reacted.
“I must have missed something and we’ve had an apocalypse
or something. Sargos just spoke?”
“Quartz, can it! Make sure he doesn’t mouth off, Tilorn.
Sargos, if you have something to say, spill it!”
The boy gulped and even seemed to blush a little, but
everyone patiently waited for him to continue, and, having
mustered a little confidence, he spoke in small staccato
phrases, pausing between words.

“Volper. Good one. Things. Means Experience. Ideas. But.
Silent.” - The last words were so quietly spoken it was
difficult to make them out.
“Indeed, why are aren’t you saying anything, or don’t you
have any options to suggest?” Castra, asked me in response to
Sargos’ words.
“Well, it’s because in a combat situation, the commander gives
orders, and the rest keep quiet and listen,” I shrugged.
“Dude, what’s wrong with this discussion? Quartz turned to
me, and immediately received a slap from Castra. “What’s that
for?”
“Learn to talk normally.”
“Damn it, they understood me. ‘It’s wrong’, ‘it’s not right’,
‘watch your language’, ‘talk normally’,” he muttered quietly
to himself while rubbing his bruised face. He was obviously
mimicking someone.
Having waited until everyone was silent, I carefully examined
the available space again and, not finding any potential danger,
addressed the group.
“Right, the first thing wrong with this discussion is that you
are now all staring at me, instead of observing the situation
around us. I wonder which one of you is going to have time to
turn around if a mob comes at us from behind the corner.”
Everyone started to turn their heads together. It looked
ridiculous. “But straight away, it’s clear that you have at least
partially realized this mistake. Therefore, if you want to listen
to me, I suggest that you gather in a circle, facing outward and
carefully watching the environment. Pay attention to what I’m
saying, but only with your ears. Use your eyes to observe.”

Quartz again opened his mouth, obviously wanting to say
something, but, seeing how Castra defiantly waved her open
palm at him, he closed it again and, turning away from me,
began to at least play the role an attentive observer. As a
result, everyone settled in place with their back to me, each
controlling their side. I didn’t need to turn around, because I
had a wall at my back, and there was no danger in waiting
there. I was now of two minds. From the point of view of a
potentially dangerous situation, this lot were simply stupid, but
on the other hand, I didn’t want to undermine Tilorn’s
authority in the group. Therefore, I first decided to clarify the
matter.
“Tilorn, I understand that you are the main person in this
group, and I am only a mystery man who just joined you, but
can I express my opinion freely?”
“Yes, that’s not a problem. We are just gaining experience, so
you can speak out. If you are afraid that I will be offended or
whatever, then don’t worry. I don’t suffer from a swollen head,
especially if you’re giving us information that’s useful for the
whole group.”
“Very good. So please do not take my words as criticism, but
simply as advice.”
“Agreed.”
“Then let me go on a bit more about discussing action. Not
only do you become distracted from your surroundings at this
time, but you can also attract the attention of monsters or, in
the worst case, unnecessary people. In addition, discussions
slow down the group, and if you start arguing during a battle,
then everyone can die because of a trivial difference in
opinions. Therefore, there the rule applies that all decisions, I
emphasize, absolutely all, regarding potentially dangerous
territory are made only by the group commander and,
accordingly, the commander takes responsibility for all the
consequences of his decisions. All communication is reduced
to the necessary minimum. The best form of communication is

just gestures within the group. Another important point is as
follows: it is desirable to keep the group commander in the
center of the line, so that he can react promptly to any changes
in the situation. Is everything clear now?”
“Yeah!”
Quartz again stood out of line, for which he immediately got a
slap, because Castra was standing very close to him. The rest
simply nodded, showing they understood. I made sure that
they continued to listen to me, and went on speaking.
“Now, here’s another point. I am very curious how Quartz and
Sargos are going to repel a sudden attack? Tilorn goes ahead
with his shield and hammer, so that’s clear, Castra is also
almost ready for combat, because the gloves are always on her
hands. But your weapons, gentlemen, why are they not in your
hands?”
“But we are the support team!” Quartz was indignant.
“Yeah, you are a great support team. In the first few seconds of
the battle, instead of helping, you’ll be getting your weapons
ready. And if we get attacked from the rear, are you politely
going to ask the enemy to wait until the whole group is
reconvened to repel the attack?”
“Um … well, sort of … really our joint effort…,” Quartz
mumbled, and took out a short pump-action rifle, with an
integrated energy unit in place of the cartridge supply tray, and
made it combat ready.
“And finally, here’s a proposal. We have Sargos here, who’s
actually a demolition miner. Can you explain what’s
preventing us from demolishing the stairs to both the basement
and the second staircase, and the second staircase on each
floor?”

After I had spoken, everyone froze. I really couldn’t believe
that the thought of such a simple option had not occurred to
them I was just shocked by their actions now, wondering how
they had managed to survive all this time.
“Um …” Tilorn said. “The problem is that we haven’t brought
mines with us. It’s too expensive for us to carry such weapons
along.” Right, and Sargos is in charge of mine clearance and
working with explosives. Sigh.
“And grenades?” I asked hopefully.
“What’s the point? We have no grenadiers or similar skills in
our team, and they wouldn’t really help us here.”
I was at a loss for words. To deprive one of the team members
of his main weaponry, and generally to use his skills simply as
a banal mechanism for mine clearance is something else
entirely.
“Tell me what you were thinking when you decided that. What
about directional explosives, mining paths to a position,
installation of booby traps in an enemy’s path during retreat
and so on? There’s a huge pile of various uses for a miner, and
even more so for a demolition specialist.”
“Well, we somehow didn’t think about all that. We selected
professions mainly for the needs of our group.”
“I hope I’m wrong. Please correct me if I am indeed wrong,
but I am trying to understand your logic,” I continued in a low
voice, “Sargos is mainly engaged in clearing any mines you
encounter, and mining obstacles.” Tilorn nodded in reply,
which depressed my mood even more. “So, if we follow the
same logic, Quartz is basically a repairman for armor and
weapons. Probably another one of his skills is the disassembly
of interesting equipment for resale and, I suspect, hacking and
picking locks.

“Nope, Castra opens the locks for us,” said the red-haired
member of the group.
“Well, yes, of course, you still need a saboteur spy, not just to
open locks.”
“Actually, I also detect traps,” Castra said, seeming offended.
Honestly, I want to grab a gun and shoot myself. How can they
ignore the potential of such skills? This is like a battle cruiser
being used as a cruise liner.
“Then I have only one question left, which I want to ask
everyone except Tilorn, since his part is clear. What is your
goal here? What do you want out of this? How the hell can
you disregard your skills, which deteriorate because of disuse,
and why aren’t you staying at the social sphere in the
outpost?”
My questions clearly stunned them. Either they hadn’t thought
about this, or they themselves hadn’t decided on any answers.
Castra was the first to answer.
“I don’t want to be weak; I don’t want to get left behind at the
outpost.”
Quartz spoke next, looking at the ceiling. “And I just want to
be cool: control combat vehicles, robots, and in general I like
to feel the power of these mechanical monsters. And to do
that, you need money that you can’t earn in the outpost.”
“I want fun!” Sargos was brief. “Interest. Lots of it.”
Shrugging, he added, “I like it here.”
At least not everything is so bad as it might be with their
attitudes. It means that we have something to work with. Now
there’s only the last step left. All our further cooperation will
depend on this.

“Don’t take offense, please. I am being kind to you, but I can
see only two options if we are to cooperate further. The first
one is the simplest: I work for the duration of the contract, and
after a week, I close it and go about my business, and then you
yourselves deal with any problems.”
“And the second one?” I might have guessed – it was Quartz
again. Does he have verbal diarrhea?
“The second option is difficult and if you choose it, you may
end up cursing your choice, at least more than once. Basically,
as we are doing this task, you will start obeying me and
carrying out my orders. However, at the same time, can I
promise that you will reach the goals that you’ve just told me
about. You’ll begin to develop more or less correctly, using the
strengths of your professions. Choose for yourself. You still
have time to make a decision until we’ve finished clearing
these buildings. And I am the one who’s going to place the
charges. Only one request from me: don’t wander off, I can
cope if left alone, but I’m not so sure about you all managing
it.”
Having said all that, I squeezed past the rest of the guys and
headed to the stairs leading down to the basement. I had
locked the door down and secured the plasma grenade to it
when I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. I picked
up the machine gun and turned sharply, seeing an unexpected
guest who turned out to be Sargos. As it turned out, he’d been
curious about how I would place the grenades.
“Well, let me tell you,” I started to explain, hiding my smile. “I
have in my hands here a seemingly ordinary grenade, which
most people think of only as a throwing weapon, but if we use
it like this and affix it here …”

As a result of this explanation, instead of only a few minutes, I
spent almost fifteen on the installation of the grenades, while
telling Sargos in detail why I was doing this and not that, and
what other options could be used in such cases. I didn’t forget
to emphasize over and over again that the options for the
complexity and installation of various explosive devices
depend solely on the miner’s imagination, and the more
sophisticated his imagination, the harder it is to detect and
even more so neutralize the installed device.
Judging by the growing interest in his eyes and the fact that he
installed the last grenade at the entrance to the building
independently, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his
mouth with the effort, I knew then that, regardless of what the
others might decide, I already had someone whom I had taught
something. True, the fact I knew little beyond the basics was
still an issue. I hadn’t gone deep into the mining and explosive
business, having stopped at the sapper’s field course. Even so,
I think this will be enough to give him an impetus for
developing in the right direction. At a minimum, I can teach
him how to deal with mines and the most popular explosives,
but then let him study complex multi-component explosives
and detonators with multilevel defense systems on his own, if
he displays an interest in these things.
When we returned, the discussion seemed to still be in full
swing, but upon seeing us, they stopped, we reorganized into a
marching column, and moved to clear the building, floor by
floor. After so many blunders on their part, I was somewhat
surprised to see that, when confronted with different mobs,
they displayed good teamwork, and very quickly managed to
accept me as a fighter in my own battle pattern. I hunted for
the detected mob, hiding behind Tilorn, acting as a defensive
fortification, trying to shoot the mob while it was still
approaching. If the monster turned out to be tenacious and still
managed to reach the armored medic, Tilorn was already in
the game, trying to keep the enemy at bay with his shield,

occasionally, if possible, using his mechanical hammer, which,
at the moment of impact, would release a small stream of
compressed air from the opposite side, increasing the speed of
the hammer. It would probably be more correct to call it a
pneumatic hammer.
In the meantime, while the mob was hanging onto this
improvised tank, Castra would spin around it, beating the mob
all over with her arms and legs. Sometimes, when she struck
with her fists, she would release a pulse from her gloves,
increasing the damage by five points. In the meantime, while
my neighbors were dealing with the next monster, I retreated a
little and controlled the approaches, in case a second enemy
started to turn up. After the mob had been killed, Quartz and
Sargos got to work, and while they were looting their prey, the
others covered for them, spreading around the pair.
We gradually moved forward in this way until we ran into an
ambush of spider-like creatures that poured out in large
numbers from every crack, after spitting on us almost in
unison. I thought of them as spider-like chiefly because they
spat out something like a web, quickly weaving it over all the
members of the group, except for me.
I got out thanks to my reflexes, having managed to get away
from the main mass of spit rolling beside me. The monsters
had four legs, and between them, a large, round mouth located
in the center, filled with small, but very sharp looking teeth. At
the top, there was one large convex faceted eye, which, most
likely, provided a view in all directions at once, leaving the
zone under the torso as their only blind spot. They weren’t
incredibly big: thirty centimeters wide and only twenty
centimeters above the floor; and they were only level five, but
there was a truly terrible number of them. I had to constantly
move along a weird trajectory, practically dancing around my
group, which now stood encased in yellowish cocoons.

My movements were complicated by the steady spitting of
new webs, which needed to be cleaned away in order to get rid
of them from my body. I was glad that I had managed to avoid
the initial general salvo. Now there were only single shots. It
was clear that the mobs had to build up their reserves of this
substance. In the end, I had to spin around, holding parts of the
“Crutches” in my hands, jabbing them into the mobs’ eyes. I
had to do this because the moving parts of weapons were
completely jammed by the sticky web, which I hadn’t had the
time to completely clean off. The monsters were very weak,
and one blow was almost enough to finish them off since they
apparently survived by immobilizing their enemies, and not by
direct contact.
Having finished off the last of the monsters, I almost fell over
from exhaustion. However, I needed to get up and
immediately release the others, who had already begun to
bombard me with messages. Having rested and put ourselves
in order, we finished clearing these buildings, having in the
process gathered various items in such quantity that it was
difficult for the whole group to drag them unaided. While we
rested, waiting for the technicians to come around, we
discussed the decision that they had to take.
“Volper, regarding what you said,” Tilorn started, and
hesitated again. He had a bad habit of making long pauses in a
conversation, as if reflecting on each sentence. “I don’t know
if you can really turn us into a good group, but your fighting
showed us that you rock. Therefore, we have decided to trust
you and accept your conditions.”
“Err… … was that really a fight?” I didn’t understand at first.
“Oh, are you talking about those spiders, or whatever the
system calls them? Kirdzers? Hang on, you were all wrapped
up in cocoons while that was going on.”
“One of Castra’s eyes didn’t get covered, so she recorded the
video of your fight with her neural interface, and then sent it to
the rest of us.”

“Okay, well, yes.” I stretched. “I didn’t notice her recording
me. My mistake. I admit it. Well, do you agree to my terms?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll rest up for the remainder of today, and from
tomorrow onward I’ll do my best to turn you all into wolves in
this little sheep farm.”
“But what about the contract?” Tilorn seemed surprised, and
the others, as far as I could see, had been listening intently to
our conversation.
“That contract of yours isn’t worth anything.”
“How so?”
“There are so many loopholes in it that, if I wanted to, I could
turn you into my slave.”
“Um … Um …” He choked out.
“Yeah, it’s pretty simple, really. First of all, I could easily give
anyone any information about you, simply by typing it out on
a tablet and then leaving it. Whoever picks it up and reads it is
not my problem. Secondly, anyone can simply send one of
you, or all of you together, on a mission resulting in your
death. You get to wait twelve hours to respawn, and cannot
fulfill the conditions of the contract, and as a result, you will
owe me two million credits each. And that’s only if you look
at the simplest, standard situations. There are a lot of options
with this contract. If I was in charge and I wanted to, for
example, I could personally ask the commander to give you a
task from the outpost. Something like an annual sweep of
everything that came closer than a meter to me, and until you
finish the current task, you cannot terminate the contract.
Actually, I’m surprised at how you were not used like this
before, under this agreement.”
I saw their dumbfounded faces as they digested the kinds of
serious problems they might’ve experienced. Their
expressions were worthy of being recorded in the form of a

picture with the caption “So that’s the way it is.” Quartz was
the first to come to his senses and let out a long, loud stream of
words, to which I hardly bothered paying attention. The rest
only nodded their heads in agreement.

CHAPTER XXVIII: TEST YOUR MIGHT

I tried to land a strike with my open palm as I was diving
under my opponent’s arm. However, my blow was diverted,
which caused me to lose balance for a moment. I corrected
quickly, but still ended up almost getting a knee to the face for
my trouble.
I tried to angle the knee to work in my favor, using my weight
and the leverage I had from my position. Just as I had shifted,
angling to take down my sparring partner, we both got
knocked down by a wave of force. I was cursing up a storm,
while Castra, who I had been sparring with until then,
remained stoic.
“You get Quartz, and I will take care of Sargos,” I instructed
her. “Stop already!” I shouted at the two, who had begun to
realize how much trouble they were in.
Of course, they didn’t listen to me and ran away from us,
moving at full speed across the range. They were well aware
that if we got them now, they would be beaten for sure. I had
to follow them around the landfill for about three minutes,
which gave them time to work out a plan and they tried to lure
us into a trap. Castra and I were spared only because I noticed
them exchanging some signals between them, which gave me
enough time to send a brief message to her. As a result, after
Sargos used some miniature noisemakers, which, after a short
delay, also put up a smoke screen, they both abruptly changed
their trajectory and jumped out of the smoke at a completely
different spot. They’d expected us to fall for their trick, so they
were surprised to find us waiting for them. They looked
resentful, but quickly resigned themselves to the fact they’d
lost.

- The idea was good, you just executed it poorly. What was the
point of communicating with gestures in a situation where the
one who knows those gestures is fighting against you? Sargos lowered his eyes and began to nervously tap his foot,
while Quartz was looking at the ceiling again and scratching
his head. Six days had already passed since that memorable
conversation. Since then, I’ve trained them every day for four
hours at the general testing range, always trying to pick a time
when the other players weren’t around. I wouldn’t say they’ve
progressed much, but at least they had an understanding of
their strengths and weaknesses now. And, most importantly,
they’d managed to learn that it wasn’t crucial to have a certain
skill, but a solid grasp of what you could do and how you
should use your abilities. Considering their rather flexible
minds and the endless experiments and enhancements on
which they’d spent almost all their money, they were quite
effective. Still, we had other things to consider.
- What the hell did you guys even do? We had to stop sparring
because of you - I asked them in annoyance.
- “Yeah, these bastards almost burned my hair!” Castra added
in a huff.
- And that’s your own fault! How many times have I told you:
“Either sort out your hair or get a helmet!” - I replied,
unmoved by her anger.
- “A helmet would limit both my mobility and ability to see,”
she disagreed, and then quietly added, apparently hoping that I
wouldn’t hear her: “And it would make me look like a cheap
slut.”
-

I’m still waiting for an answer, - I reminded the two
blockheads in front of me.

“Well, that is … In general, uh …” Quartz began, but I
interrupted him.
- Don’t mumble! -

- “Okay, so, I’d wanted to make reconnaissance drones with
the kamikaze function. But their behavioral module
malfunctioned, and instead of simply finding you, they
immediately rushed you, initiating a self-destruct. Apparently,
they mistook you for a target. At least Sargos had only put a
small charge on them.”
- Why the hell did you even send it after us?! Be grateful that
Tilorn was stuck in the research center today; otherwise, he
would’ve arranged for you to train and spar until your bruises
had bruises! Well, that’s enough for today, clean yourselves up
and hurry back to the base; we need to check the object that
was discovered yesterday. -

The guys, who were in high spirits because they hadn’t been
punished, headed for the base. Castra joined them and they
began discussing something. Well, more precisely, Quartz was
explaining something to Sargos, actively using various hand
gestures as he did so. It was clear that he’d come up with
something again, but Castra followed closely behind him,
ready to hit him should he get out of hand. Hmmm … as I
looked at these two, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Castra
and Quartz were in love with each other. At the same time,
they were both afraid to take the first step in the relationship,
and didn’t seem to realize how much they were doing to get
each other’s attention.
Although even Sargos could see it plain as day, none of us
were interfering. They’re young, let them figure out their
relationship themselves; the rest of us will watch and laugh. I
went the other way, or rather, toward the research center. I
wanted to talk to Tilorn without anyone else present. After
waiting for him at the entrance, we started slowly walking to
the base, discussing something that I’d been worrying about as
we did so.
- Well, did you manage to find anything out? - I prompted him.

- “I found something out, but I don’t understand anything. On
the one hand, everything is logical and even reasonable, but if
you look at it from another angle, it becomes utter nonsense.”
- Come on, don’t toy with me here. - “Ok, I will describe the situation to you as is, and then you
can decide for yourself whether to accept it or not because,
from my point of view, this is complete nonsense.”
- Yes, yes, tell me already, I’m dying to know. - “Alright, so, if you look at your problem from within the
framework of the world around us, then everything is very
clear: your low “Mind” stat is affecting you negatively
because it’s not only responsible for you being able to use
psionics, but also affects self-control and logical decision
making. All in all, everything is fine with you, you just need to
train your mind a little more.”
- That makes no sense. How is that even possible? - “That’s why I don’t understand anything. After all, the
capsule shouldn’t be able to influence your brain. Well, apart
from basics like adrenaline, fear, joy – all of those can be
stimulated in your brain by a certain environment, or, for
example, by injecting some drugs into the blood, imitating the
natural chemistry of the body. But they haven’t yet figured out
how to influence thought processes… well, in official
medicine, at least. I don’t know what kind of devices the
military has in its secret labs. Maybe they could do it, but I
doubt that gaming corporations have access to military
hardware.”
- Yes, the military doesn’t have anything like that, they only
have emitters that cause panic, chaos… at most, they can
scramble thought processes, slowing down the reaction time of
the enemy. - Seeing Tilorn’s intrigued look, I quickly turned the
subject back around. - Ok, let’s say that the capsule can
directly influence the brain, affecting it according to the
player’s stats. I still don’t understand what Mind has to do
with it. I would figure that my Intellect is responsible for
mental activity, and that’s a decent stat for me, more or less. -

- “No, that’s responsible for how much knowledge you can
handle, your speed of learning and mastering new things. But
the Mind stat is responsible for how the brain processes this
knowledge … Let me try and explain it like this: you observe
some kind of conflict, for example, and only have 1 Mind.
You’d rush in without thinking to help the side that you think is
right in this situation. If you have three points instead, you’d
first try to assess if you’re strong enough to intervene. At five
points, on top of that, you’d also be trying to figure out the
consequences of your actions, whether there’s any point in
intervening and if you should first call someone to help. With
eight points, besides all of the above mentioned things, you
also immediately figure out several ways you can intervene,
depending on what options are available to you, and you’d
pick the right one. And if you already have a dozen points in
Mind, then, like a chess player, you begin to work out dozens
of various combinations in your head, with a bunch of
variables, and then, based on those, you would act as
efficiently as possible.”
- Wow … I didn’t understand half of that, but I got the gist.
With a low Mind, I behave like a commander that’s hungry for
glory, not really caring about using my troops to the best of
their ability. - “Um … well, something like that,” Tilorn agreed with me
reluctantly.
- I still think this is nonsense, but we can test your hypothesis.
I’ve had an unallocated point since the last breakthrough, so
I’ll use it on Mind. - “Where did you get that? I’ve never heard of someone that’s
earned a free point here.”
- I got it from an achievement, and I have every reason to
suspect that quite a lot of people will get this one or even
more. - “Wow, can we somehow emulate what you did?”

- If you have never died before, then you can try it. -

- “Damn, all of us have already died several times.”
- Then this achievement is definitely not available to you.
Okay, enough talking, let’s get ready, the young people have
probably been waiting for us a while now. We gathered everything quickly because we had several sets of
equipment that were all easily accessed. Although all of us had
already passed level 20, we were in no hurry to update our
gear, for a completely ordinary reason - we lacked the money
to do so. I’d had to invest heavily into additional kits for all of
us, and the most expensive thing turned out to be a shield for
Tilorn, that looked like a violin he carried on his left hand. It
emitted a force field that almost completely covered his body,
and had power sources that could be easily replaced during a
battle.
Well, the rest of the equipment had been updated as well, but
just a little. Before setting out, I decided to hold a quick
briefing, hoping this would deter any unnecessary questions as
we traveled. The group was almost operational, and I walked
alongside them, telling them about the current situation and
our task while simultaneously checking whether they’d put
their equipment on properly.
- What I’m about to tell you is information you already know,
but I want to make sure you understand the situation.
Yesterday, while we were practicing covert movement,
avoiding any encounters with monsters far from the outpost,
Castra discovered a small mechanical spider, which she
identified as a “Garbage collector of a mechanical colony.”
After mulling it over for some time, we decided to follow it.
After three hours of crawling on our bellies and very careful
observation, during which we almost lost sight of it twice, this
spider led us to some ruins. We discovered several more
similar spiders during our observation. Upon returning to the
base, Tilorn and I very carefully studied the available
information about them and found out the following: most

likely, this colony is protecting an object. At the same time, it
has its own mobile repair base, or as it’s also called: a
“Queen”. According to rumors, some of the raiding groups and
a number of clans have already managed to destroy about a
dozen such colonies. The queen was only found twice, but she
escaped both times. So, there is a possibility that we might
find this queen. The chances are slim, but we have to be
vigilant and not miss it if it’s there. However, even if we do
miss it, we can still make some money because all of these
colonies have a miniature factory that produces robots. - “If they can reproduce like that, how come they haven’t
conquered the entirety of Alfarome by now?” And who would
have thought to ask such a brilliant question? Quartz, of
course!
- There is a limiter in place. According to all the rumors, there
are no more than two or three hundred units at one time,
taking into account the collectors, repair bots and other
robotic attendants. By the way, “NanoTech”, our local clan of
techies, has promised around ten million for the queen,
depending on the state of its remains. But the “Wolves” have
promised two hundred million credits, if they get the queen
untouched, safe and sound. How they imagine that happening,
I don’t know, but it’s safe to assume that they want to put it in a
closed complex and just pump out the young there, as the total
number of robots will always replenish. But that task is too
difficult for us. We’re going in there to get the object and, if
possible, destroy the queen. Afterward, we’ll call the trophy
group in and get fire support. Everything clear? Everyone nodded and prepared to move forward, but I stopped
them.
- And now we move on to the unpleasant bit. The object is
located in the zone of influence of clan “Storm”. The chance
that they will find the place before our arrival is rather low,
because they’re currently focusing all their attention on
strengthening their positions in anticipation of a new

breakthrough and are doing almost no exploration. But we still
need to move very carefully, so as not to attract their attention.
One more thing: we recently discovered one very unpleasant
fact: after the capture of a new location, officially registered
groups have twelve hours to challenge our control over it, and
they can do so by force. Hopefully, it won’t be an issue, since
too many challenges might destabilize everything and even
lead to all out clan wars. Any questions? - “Why are we going in with our light gear? We might run into
a lot of intense fighting,” Castra asked.
- Because these mechanoids use mainly lasers and plasma,
and we don’t have equipment with sufficiently good protection
against energy and thermal damage. Therefore, we will
primarily rely on mobility and Tilorn’s power shield, and also
on Quartz, who can replace Tilorn’s power sources quickly. If
his shield disappears… the whole group will die without even
a chance to slip away. Any more questions? - Without waiting
for someone to ask, I continued. - Then we’ll move forward
through the southern gate, going five kilometers deeper,
moving toward the object along an arc. Wading through all
that will be harder, but make it less likely that someone from
the clan will follow us. For the same reason, maintain radio
silence. Headsets are good, but their protection from the signal
being intercepted is weak, so let’s not risk it. Last but not least:
if the raid is successful, I will lead you to a very interesting
place, where a rather big fortune is waiting to be made. And
not only that…
Having checked our equipment for the last time, we moved
along the previously agreed on route, trying to avoid any
encounters with monsters, and trying even harder to not be
seen by other people. Because we moved so carefully, it took
us almost six hours to get there. We never started a fight, to
our great satisfaction. Now we were at about three hundred
meters from the building where we’d noticed the mechanical
spiders before, and were considering how to approach it.
Castra was looking through some binoculars, and I was using
the optical sight on my combined rifle.

This combination rifle had a longer barrel for sniper fire, with
a magazine that held ten rounds in the butt, but the bottom one
was shorter and with an automatic fire mode. It also supported
magazine cases with miniaturization and switching between
two types of ammunition. Such a gun spared me from having
to carry several different types of weapons with me to
complete different tasks. By the way, the cartridges no longer
had cases, an option that had become available to me after
hitting level 20. I’d also replaced the pistols with automatic
ones that held thirty rounds each. I’d wanted to take the two
compact submachine guns for added crowd control
capabilities, but such models were limited to level twenty-five
and above.
- Well, what do you see? - I turned to Castra.
- “I’ve spotted two entrances.”
- I spotted three. Send me their coordinates, I’ll verify them. Having received the coordinates from Castra and after making
sure that I’d found the same ones, I decided that I could try to
storm one.
- Castra, take a high vantage point and watch the surrounding
area. Sargos, put explosives on both of Quartz’s drones so we
can mine the two side passages. Quartz, get the drones to the
specified passages, then run to Tilorn to cover you. Tilorn,
while the drones are doing their thing, you break through to
the central aisle and hold it until we get there. While you’re
breaking through, I’ll cover you with a rifle, so try to move in
a diagonal that lets me shoot normally. If everything goes
according to plan, at my command, everyone go in after Tilorn
and start clearing it. Any questions? Alright. Castra, get in
position. When you do, click the radio twice. That’ll be our
signal to commence. -

Castra crawled away from us and hid somewhere in the
building where we’d hunkered down, and Tilorn took her
place, not far from me, ready to run. Turning around to check
everything, he noticed how Sargos was doing something with
the small, round reconnaissance drones. They weren’t intended
for use in combat, but the recent trick him and Quartz had
come up with had prompted us to start doing so anyway.
Meanwhile, Quartz had already put on his tactical glasses and
neural gloves, doing some last minute tests on the drones.
It’s a pity that, for the time being, he can only manage two
drones, and only low level ones. Never mind, we’ll still make
him a war veteran, to the dismay of our opponents. Everyone
seemed to be ready and Tilorn was going to use a skill to start
off with, based on how he was positioned. Having estimated
the pros and cons, I also decided to activate the “Rifle
amendments” skill. The cooldown, of course, is lengthy, but I
don’t think I’ll need a sniper skill inside the building, so I
doubt it’ll matter. Now… what’s taking Castra so long?
It seemed like she was taking a long time to get into position.
Oh, wait, I could hear the two agreed upon clicks in my ear,
and Tilorn was taking off to my right, making sure to give me
enough space to shoot without hitting him. Immediately
behind him, two drones flew off overhead, going in different
directions. The only disadvantage they had was that Quartz,
while they were being controlled, was almost completely
immobile and vulnerable. Sargos was currently covering him
though, so I didn’t have to worry about that. And then our first
foe jumped out to go after Tilorn.
They’d noticed him rather quickly, but that’s fine. I adjusted
my rifle slightly, fired, and, almost immediately, the
mechanical creature was thrown into the air, flipping over
several times before it fell down, sparking due to the damage
that had been done to it. Tilorn had already covered half the
distance when another spider jumped out of the left aisle.
Some weird creature, looking like a caterpillar with four

manipulators, also came out along with it, and they
immediately started moving in his direction.
I got the spider in my sights and only had to fire two rounds the first one hadn’t hit the body, but the joint of a mechanical
leg instead, completely tearing it off. This only slowed it down
a little, because it had five more of them. These bastards
apparently didn’t feel any pain. I shot two more bullets at the
second mechanism, completely killing it. Suddenly, two
sizeable explosions went off, nearly causing Tilorn to stumble
as he ran the last few meters. Damn, what had the young
chemist mixed into those explosives? I’d nearly been stunned,
and I couldn’t even imagine how our medic and tank had
fared.
- Quartz, meet up with Tilorn. Castra, leave your position and
head there too. Sargos, cover me. I’ll cover Tilorn. - I quickly
shouted orders to my team while aiming down the sights and
scanning for any enemies.
- “Volper, I’ve spotted two groups of fighters coming in at six
o’clock. Each is about the size of a platoon and they both seem
to be heading our way.”
- F*****! - I cursed immediately. - They’ve really picked a
bad time. Can you identify them? - One group is clearly from the Wolves, judging by the unique
pattern on their armor, and the second one is unknown, their
identification marks aren’t visible.
- We’re going with the plan, - I decided.
- “Orders received,” Tilorn stated.
- “Yeah,” Quartz added.
- “Roger that!” Castra replied.
Sargos just nodded. He was sitting next to her, but facing in
the opposite direction, covering my back. I asked Sargos if
he’d taken anything from our pursuers.

He nodded in response, and after a few seconds, he took out a
round device from the side pocket of his backpack and handed
it to me. It had a diameter of seven centimeters and was about
three centimeters thick. I didn’t understand what it was at first,
so I simply called up its information.
Directed activation mine “Clean Boom”
Area of explosion: 5 meters
Angle of explosion: 90 degrees
Kinetic Damage: 82-103
Penetrating damage: 94-132
Condition: 68%
Weight: 0.2 kg
Manufacturer: Quartz
- And do you have many of these “surprises” left? -

In response, he showed me three fingers, then a clenched fist.
He’d need thirty minutes to make more? Well, what could I
say? I was surprised, very much so. I didn’t know when he’d
found the time, but we could discuss that back at the base. I
was embarrassed by a few things, however: the state of the
product, since it had apparently been assembled from very old
parts. And it was also unfortunate that a laser had been chosen
as the trigger element since those are quite visible in certain
conditions. And turning the mine upside down, I was totally
amazed.
- Seriously? You used double-sided tape to attach things
together… -

Sargos just shrugged and rubbed his thumb along his index
finger, clearly hinting at a lack of funds.
- Are you kidding me? Not two days ago, I gave you one
hundred and fifty thousand credits! And that doesn’t even
include the credits the system awarded you for destroying the
mobs.
After dismissing his attempt to look angelic in order to pacify
me, I simply waved a hand at him.
- Everybody, move forward, the rest are already in place. As
we enter, you go last, and carefully leave our little explosive
surprises behind us. Get creative, to ensure no one spots them
and disarms them. Reaching the other members of the group, I gave the command
to enter. Castra immediately slipped inside. Her task was to
detect any traps and do general reconnaissance. Tilorn
immediately moved to follow her. If anything happened, he
would immediately cover the girl with his shield. Quartz
followed right behind him, ready to quickly replace the
batteries powering said shield. After briefly looking around, I
dived into the passage. Our procession ended with Sargos,
who would arrange surprises for those wanting to follow after
us. I could feel it in my bones, we’d have trouble with both
those groups yet. And if, God forbid, the queen turns out to be
there, then we can expect a localized war to break out for the
right to possess it. I’d been hoping to just get money for
simpler trophies, but the presence of these two groups greatly
increased the chances of finding the queen here. After taking a
couple more steps, I almost began cursing out loud.

Attention! You are entering the area of the spontaneously
formed dungeon: “Reserve Base No. 9 of the Mechanical
Colony”. The dungeon is designed for a group of players
from level 19 to 32, with at least five fighters in the group.
Attention! If you destroy the Martha mechanics production
complex, you will receive an additional reward.
- Gentlemen … - looking at Castra, I added, - and lady! On
behalf of Murphy’s law and the bitch queen Fate,
congratulations! - “What are you congratulating us on?” I knew that Quartz
would be unable to resist asking, hell, I’d counted on it.
- My dear young friend, I’m congratulating you on the fact
that from now on we’re up to our necks in shit! It looks like the
clans have also discovered the lovely local attractions. They
most likely know that the queen of mechanoids is in here. And
if you recall what kind of money the Wolves have offered for
the queen… It should be obvious just how utterly, hopelessly
screwed we are. -

CHAPTER XXIX: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

I expected them to become despondent and panic; I was even
prepared to try and raise their morale. That’s why I was quite
surprised when Castra simply bit her lower lip. This meant that
she’d made a decision she wouldn’t be budging on. Tilorn,
after turning off the shield for a second, destroyed another
spider with his hammer. Then, activating the force field again,
went deeper into the passage. I didn’t see Quartz nor Sargos’
faces since they’d remained behind, but unlike the others,
Quartz voiced his opinion.
“What’s that? We have a chance to rub it in a clan’s face? Two,
even? Sure, it would be easier not to antagonize them… But
just picture it! We walk into a room, and all anyone can think
of is: ‘Wow, that’s the group that made two clans look like
fools!’ I think the risk is worth it, Volper, and I’m sure the
others do, too.”
At first, I wanted to object and remind him that the clans also
knew how to take revenge, and at the same time, had the
resources to enact said revenge with, but I decided not to.
Moreover, there was quite a good chance for us to get out of
this mess. Well, if everything worked out.
- Everybody, stop talking, quickly clear the dungeon, and then
we’ll decide what to do from there. Castra, how long will it
take those groups to get to us? - “Twenty minutes.”
- Okay. We’re at least twenty minutes ahead of them. If the
groups belong to different clans, they might end up fighting
each other once they meet up, on top of the delay Sargos’
surprise will surely cause. Therefore, we’ll be quick but
thorough. Also, try not to make too much noise if you can
avoid it. -

They all nodded in agreement and then moved to fulfill their
orders. Castra cleared the bulk of the spiders on her own,
hiding behind Tilorn’s shield only when several of them
popped up at once, or if their bulkier, mobile assemblies tried
to jump us. We avoided getting too close to those things
because they had a welding device on each feeler.
They were a sort of universal welding machine, which,
apparently, could assemble various metal constructions.
Quartz usually tended to take care of them with his shotgun
before they got too close. In our brief moments of respite, he
also managed to collect what he felt were interesting tidbits
from the remains of the mechanoids. We moved like this for
about five minutes, Castra and Quartz doing most of the
damage. Experience, of course, was divided among everyone
equally, as well as the money for destroying the mobs. The
development of skills, however, was calculated individually
for everyone.
Our routine clearing ended with us entering an irregular, much
larger hall. It wasn’t pretty, but the local craftsmen had surely
given their best, so I wouldn’t begrudge them for it. Having
grouped up, we began to carefully advance into the hall. We
must have stepped over some invisible line without realizing it
because small plasma bursts started coming at us from various
angles. Luckily, Tilorn was ready and placed his shield in the
way; otherwise, we would’ve probably died on the spot.
- Back! - I screamed like mad.
“Seventy … Sixty … Forty-five … Thirty …” Tilorn, through
clenched teeth, kept reporting the condition of the batteries
that were powering the shield.
- “I see it … I’m working on it!” Quartz snapped, changing the
batteries in Tilorn’s shield on the go.

Moving back a little and retreating into the passage, we left the
line of sight of most of the defenders. This made things a lot
easier, allowing us to get to the nearest corner and hide behind
it.

- Five meters. Barricade. Castra, at the base. Tilorn, buff her
speed. Quartz, a report on our usage of resources. Immediately after, Castra crouched down near Tilorn’s legs
with her hands on the floor, taking up a pose similar to the one
for a running start. Tilorn, after getting down on one knee,
placed the shield at an angle, covering Castra with the lower
edge, and the top edge was at the height of my chest, leaving
me able to shoot. After that, he began to extract various pills
from his hidden pockets, passing them to the girl. Finally, he
gave her a couple of injections in the right shoulder.

- “Seven batteries have been consumed by the ***** barrage,
if they do that again, I might not even have the time to reload
the shield, or enough batteries.”
- Tilorn, reload him upside the head; I fear his vocabulary will
begin to act up again if you don’t. - After I gave that
command, I heard the sound of a good slap.
- “Okay, I get it.”
- Stop talking! - I roared. – I can already hear them coming.
Sargos, get on your belly and provide covering fire. Switching to the armor-piercing cartridges and taking aim at
where our enemy would appear from, I waited. The first to
appear was a mechanism that walked on large spider legs, but
had a swiveling torso mounted on that base, in the shape of a
human body, and two mini-guns affixed to its sides. It
would’ve been very interesting to see what combat abilities it

had, but I didn’t stop to check, immediately opening fire,
shooting almost a dozen or so cartridges into the base of it.
And then all sorts of security droids appeared. There was
everything you could think of: moving on tracks, wheels…
one small droid even rolled using its entire body. The same
was true for their weapons; I managed to count about twenty
varieties, with the only thing they had in common being that
all the weapons were lasers, interspersed with plasma ones.
We fought for about two minutes, maybe even three. While I
was reloading, Quartz would empty his shotgun into them. As
soon as the last droid was destroyed, after waiting another
couple of seconds to make sure, I began to issue commands.
- Castra. How much time is left? - “The buff has another seven minutes.”
- Run! - And she immediately rushed forward. Tilorn barely
deactivated the shield in time.
- Quartz? - “About ten percent of the ammunition is spent; about forty
percent of the batteries were used by the shield.” Wow, he was
actually capable of speaking normally if he tried.
- Sargos? I turned to our sapper, who was lying on his stomach,
watching our six. In response, I received a thumbs up. So,
while everything was alright for now, after throwing a glance
at the clock in my neural interface, I noted that nine minutes
had passed since we’d entered the dungeon. Ten seconds later,
Castra reported that only various kinds of repair bots remained
in the large hall. Moving ahead toward the entrance of the hall
and making sure that no battle droids remained, I gave the goahead to warm up. Tilorn and Sargos got bored, practically not
participating in the battles anymore. In the meantime, I tried to
keep an eye on everyone, so that I could, if necessary, help
them by laying down suppressive fire. At the 12-minute mark,

we finished clearing the hall and gathered at the far wall,
where another passage began.
- Okay, everyone, look through your logs and quickly figure
out how many mobs you destroyed. “Fourteen,” Tilorn replied after ten seconds.
“Twenty-three,” Quartz reported.
“Nineteen,” Castra said.
- Sargos killed four, judging by his raised fingers, and I
destroyed thirty-three. Bottom line: 93 mobs. Unfortunately,
that’s a little less than a third of the mobs, and we’ve already
used nearly half of the shield energy. The results are not in our
favor. Any suggestions? “EMP,” Sargos said almost immediately.

I paused for a couple of seconds, thinking about it. We had
recently purchased a pack of cartridges for Sargos’ revolvers
with an EMP core, which, upon hitting the target, created a
small electromagnetic pulse and burned out the electronics
inside completely, provided, of course, that the target didn’t
have protection against the EMP. We had just 50 with us. After
all, they aren’t in demand: the opponents in this game are
mostly living creatures, against whom such cartridges are
useless.
I’d bought them only because we could use them in the
laboratory, against the mechanized defenses there. Now I had a
dilemma on my hands. Using the EMPs, we could possibly get
rid of one mob per one hit, provided they weren’t shielded
from it. But we might also want to save them for the queen. Or
perhaps the lab? Time was running out, and I didn’t know
what to do.

- No, let’s leave them for Martha, if we ever find it. If not, we
will still find a use for them. Okay, listen up. We’re changing
things up. Tilorn, give me the speed buff, I’ll use it to go in
hard and fast. Castra comes in after me; she deals only with
the ones I missed. Quartz and Sargos, you’re tasked with
finishing off the injured and dying. Tilorn will cover us with
his shield if we need it. If I die, Tilorn will be the boss and
guide you. And Sargos, if worst comes to worst, make sure
everything goes up in a huge ball of flame. Does everyone
understand? “I don’t get anything,” Tilorn replied. “But, you’re the
commander, we agreed to your rules, so we’ll execute your
commands. I’ll wait until we get back to the base to tell you
what I think.”
I nodded in response, recognizing his right to do so. But for
now, I needed to focus and give it my all and then some. Either
we would clear the dungeon before the clan fighters caught up
to us, using the contract with Carefire and the hope they
wouldn’t want to start a fight with him as a deterrent, or the
clans would catch up to us beforehand. If that happened… it
wouldn’t be pretty.
Taking the chemical substance given to me by Tilorn, I closed
my eyes and detached myself from the world around me,
breathing deeply. There was only me and the goal that I
needed to achieve. After some more deep breathing, the last
superfluous thoughts were gone. There is no death, which
means there is no fear. As one of my ancestors once said:
“Everything that can be, will be, and what cannot be, won’t
happen!” I still didn’t quite understand him, but this phrase
had always been a rock for me, supporting me in my most
trying times. I took comfort in the fact that something was
impossible only until you went and did it.

Opening my eyes, I darted off, immediately diving into the
passage that lay ahead of me. I noticed movement on the
ceiling, instinctively firing at it. I moved a little to the left,
passing by one more mechanism. I fired a heavy caliber bullet
into it as I passed, at almost point blank range. Without even
pausing to check what damage I’d done to the mechanism, I
continued onward. I had people to do that for me, after all. I
fired at anything that seemed suspicious, without even
considering whether it was actually hidden mobs or my mind
playing tricks on me.
I moved practically without thinking, simply noting the
approximate number of used cartridges, letting my instincts
and experience guide me. In the upper left corner of my view,
numerous buff timers were ticking down, distracting me so
much that I had to make an effort to ignore them. Behind me, I
could barely make out the distinctive noise of impulse gloves
being used. It would seem that I had indeed missed a few of
them, leaving them for Castra to deal with. A clicking noise
informed me I was out of bullets in the magazine. I quickly
swapped it out but still got hit once as I did so.
The wound was small but painful. I’d lost 7% life, leaving me
at 93%. I didn’t pay attention to what had wounded me,
trusting the others to take care of it. My immediate task was to
inflict maximum damage to the enemy. The corridor widened
again, leading me into a new room, and I immediately turned
left and hid behind one of the columns that supported the
ceiling. Fortunately, it was wide enough for now, but its width
wouldn’t be able to cover me for long. With chips of concrete
flying everywhere and plasma rounds coming close enough for
me to feel the heat, I saw my temporary shelter wouldn’t
protect me for long. I pulled a fragmentation grenade out of
my pouch and, after activating the “Ricochet throw” ability,
hurled it at the next column over, trusting that the bounce
would direct it toward the enemy.

After the grenade exploded, they stopped firing for a second,
which was enough for me to start preparing the “Position
Change” skill, lean out of cover and fire at the foes to keep
them distracted, then run to the nearest available, solid cover. I
almost didn’t notice the two drones that had been angling to
fire at me from a better angle. I activated the “Double Tap”
skill and they were nothing more than slag.

I definitely liked my new weapon and its impressive damage.
The old one would’ve used up half as much ammo, at least, to
achieve the same results. I took out two more grenades,
simultaneously activating the “Pendulum” skill, and two
seconds before its activation, I threw a grenade on either side
of the column behind which I’d taken refuge. After the skill
triggered, I started running along an unpredictable trajectory,
leaving the droids unable to follow my progress. A couple of
times, my body even went over any obstacles it came across.
When I ran past a more or less reliable piece of cover,
consisting of some kind of metal device that looked very
sturdy and was leaning against an even larger one, I canceled
the “Pendulum” and took refuge behind it.
I had seventy percent health left. Looks like I got tagged again,
in that last run. However, most importantly, I’d achieved my
goal: almost all the enemies had turned their backs to the
entrance. I couldn’t understand… Why had they stopped
shooting? Wait, were they targeting the others? Damn … damn
… damn … I’d gone ahead on purpose, hoping to be the only
one who took damage. Yes, that had been a stupid idea, but
after Ruth… it was too hard for me to send the youth into a
hopeless battle. I jumped up sharply, expecting the worst, and
barely managed to duck down again as several plasma bolts
flew overhead. What the hell was going on here? They’d all
gone still in almost the center of the room, keeping my cover
in their sights, but they weren’t shooting, despite the fact that
they might’ve gotten through, after a couple volleys.

- Don’t enter the second hall! - I abruptly shouted the
command into the headset. - I’m OK, no help needed, take up
defensive positions in the corridor! Four single clicks told me that the group had received my
command. And now I had to urgently figure out what was
happening. I took a look at the timer: eighteen minutes had
passed since we’d entered, and the clans should’ve started
appearing any minute now. I didn’t have any time left. I’m an
idiot; I took the group god knows where and fucked it up for
all of us. Normally, you’d take at least an hour and a half to go
through this dungeon. That was when you cleared it properly,
without undue risk. Furthermore, we didn’t just have to rush,
but rush through a dungeon intended for much higher level
players. Goddammit, I didn’t have time for this. I needed to
see what I could do to fix it! I took a look at my hiding place,
curious to see if it might provide any answers. I carefully read
the information and was shocked.
Production complex for mechanoid “Marta”, level 30.
6 minutes and 32 seconds left before activation.
6 minutes and 31 seconds.
6 minutes and 30 seconds.
…
…
…
I couldn’t believe it. That’s why the droids weren’t shooting at
me. They didn’t want to damage their queen! At the same
time, that also explained how the queen always managed to
escape. It would seem that after the attack began, the attackers
had about 25 minutes before it activated. After that, it would
be able to roll off to a new reserve base.

- Listen carefully! There are about a hundred and fifty different
droids in here; approximately one third of them are combat
models. We have six minutes to get rid of them. Get ready to
rush in at my command. Tilorn, your task is to get Quartz to
the opposite end of the hall, going along the left wall. Quartz,
prepare your tools to try and open up the local boss. Sargos,
charge up your EMP cartridges, we can’t afford to use them
sparingly. Castra, adapt to the situation, but do your best to
cover Sargos. Do you copy? In response, I heard 3 quick shouts of “Yes, sir!” and one
click. I’d almost gotten used to the constant silence of Sargos.
It’ll be necessary, after we return to the base, to ask Tilorn why
he was so quiet all the time. Yes, I’d promised not to ask about
their past, but I wanted to give Sargos a chance to have a
normal life. Part of that meant he’d need to learn to
communicate like everyone else. After taking out several
plasma grenades, I quickly peeked out and instantly moved my
head back after making sure that the battle droids were still
practically in the same position. The spiders on the walls,
however, had walked around me and seemed to want to flush
me out from behind my cover.
“Get ready, 10 seconds to go.”
I took out the first plasma grenade and activated the skill
“Lobbed throw”, paying close attention to how my body
moved as I did so. As soon as the first grenade landed where
the skill had aimed it, I immediately threw three more, one
after the other, trying to imitate my movements from when I’d
used the skill. After hearing the fourth explosion go off, I
immediately shouted into the radio:
- Go! -

I activated the “Rain of Bullets” skill right after, mentally
counting down the seconds before the skill triggered. Five…
in the darkness of the passage on the other side of the hall, the
rainbow glow of Tilorn’s force shield expanded. The surviving
droids, meanwhile, were trying to get up after being knocked
down by a shock wave. Four… the group rushed into the hall
and split up into two pairs, moving in different directions
along the walls. Each duo had a shooter and a short sword
wielder: the shooter would clear the passage while the other
fighter handled the drones trying to attack from the sides.
Three… Tilorn used his shield to protect Quartz from a volley
fired by three combat droids at once. After the shield stopped
the volley, he turned it off and, clutching his hammer with
both hands, activated the “Earth Tremor” skill, which sent out
a cone of kinetic energy that knocked down all opponents
caught in it. It would’ve been a truly amazing skill if not for
the fact it cost a quarter of the hammer’s durability to cast.
I looked over at Castra, who was being attacked by more than
a dozen repair bots at the same time. Behind her, Sargos was
shooting back at a pair of battle droids, firing his revolvers like
a cowboy: from the hip, first the right, then the left gun,
cocking the trigger with his fingers. Castra, on the other hand,
had decided to activate the “Five Palm Strikes” skill, hitting
the air in front of her five times with such speed that the
discharges of her gloves overlapped and created a wave of
devastating energy. The concrete wall on which we’d tested
this skill had been over half a meter thick but still turned into
fine rubble. The droid fared no better, scattering or getting
blown up.
Two… Sargos and Castra dove in behind my cover. One…
Quartz and Tilorn did the same. Zero. I began to rain down
bullets on everything that moved in front of me, moving the
barrel from side to side, forming a ninety-degree cone of fire,

hitting every opponent that was in this zone. A good skill, but
it takes way too long to activate.
- Quartz, you try to deactivate the queen. Tilorn, you’re
covering Quartz. Sargos, Castra, take up defensive positions
and remain vigilant. I’ll cover the other side. Now let’s hope
Quartz manages it! I’d barely had the time to finish giving orders before the
automatic dodge skill dragged me down, forcing me to fall on
one knee, cutting off the “Rain of Bullets ” skill with a quarter
of the cartridges still left to fire. A plasma bolt twice as thick
as my fist flew over my head a moment later, so I wasn’t going
to complain. Having traced the trajectory of the shot, I jumped
up and took aim at the spot where the shot had most likely
been fired from. It was a platform on rails, with a single
cannon installed on it, and a large block of unknown
equipment located behind it. I shot at it and almost
immediately turned around to look for other foes. This nearly
cost me my life.
It turned out that this droid had a force field. I had to duck
down again, pop up to fire at it, then duck down once more… I
did this five times, but the blue bar over its life, which seemed
to indicate the state of its shield, was already fully restored by
the time I would jump up to fire at it again. I had to time my
shot so that it landed when it was firing as well since that was
the only time it would deactivate its shield. I managed to do it
on the third try because the timing was tricky and I was being
cautious, afraid of taking a plasma charge to the head. After
successfully landing a couple of bursts on the droid itself, I
began to search for a new target, but the Castra’s loud warning
distracted me, and I didn’t even notice it slam into my head,
rattling my brain.

CHAPTER XXX: MAYBE I SHOULD GO SEE MY THERAPIST?

It felt like my mind had been turned on: they’d come right up
to me, found the power button, and my mind instantly booted
up. I’ve lost consciousness a few times during my life and
every time it happened, it was a struggle to wake up again.
Castra’s cry distracted me from my thoughts and I turned my
head to see what was going on. Unfortunately, things were
kind of hazy and every time I blinked, it felt like a lot had
changed.
I was lying on the floor, looking up at the ceiling and
wondering what had happened to fill it with so many holes.
Then again, judging by my interface’s clock, I’d been out for
half an hour, so anything goes, really. I was a bit confused by
what I felt was… sunlight? Or were those search lights that I
could see through the holes in the ceiling?
Suddenly, a cacophony of sounds practically slammed into me.
That’s when I realized that, for the past few seconds, I’d been
unable to hear anything. I rolled over quickly, took a knee, and
lifted both of my “Orsun” guns, ready to use them on any
threats.
“Commander, calm down! The fighting’s over.”
Turning toward the voice, I stared at Quartz. He was sitting a
few meters away from me, leaning against the wall, with his
wounded left hand bandaged tight against his body.
- What happened? - “A lot of things happened. You’ll need a detailed
explanation.”
- What’s wrong with your hand? -

- “It’s fractured in three places; I didn’t have enough time to
deactivate Martha and as it began to transform I barely had
enough time to get out of it, but I couldn’t save my hand. It
practically got crushed between two moving elements. I’d
thought it would get torn off altogether.”
- Alright, and where are the others? - “They’ve taken up a protective semi-circle formation around
us. They’ve been waiting for you to regain consciousness
again.”
- Why do I hear battle? - “Because of the clans; they’re trying to get Martha. When it
turned on, it became level 60 and rushed off. It was evident
that it was trying, as usual, to hide, but the clans were already
outside by that point so they didn’t allow it to leave. Instead,
the queen went into combat mode, its level increased to 90,
and it now has two layers of energy protection: one covers it
along the contours of its body, the second looks like a dome,
completely enveloping it. The clans have been trying to
destroy its defenses for twenty minutes now. Forty percent of
the dome has already been removed, but at the same time, two
dozen fighters have been lost. The system gave Martha the
status of sector boss. The Wolves somehow managed to send
out a system-wide call for aid. They’ve promised rewards to
all who aid them in taking it down, not just their own clan
members.”
- Hmmm … They started it all, but it looks like they’d
expected something like this from the beginning. Last
question: how did I end up unconscious? - “I didn’t see it myself, but according to Tilorn, you destroyed
a droid that had a force field, and when you turned away from
it, it exploded. That would be enough to knock most people
out.”
After quickly checking my weapon, I put it in order: replacing
the magazines with full ones and making sure the mechanisms
were functioning well. All in all, it was all working well

enough, even if I didn’t have much ammo left. My armor, the
helmet in particular, was in a sorry state, but there were more
important things to worry about right at that moment.

- Tilorn, it’s me, Volper. Respond! - I demanded urgently.
- “Oh, you’ve finally come to; you took a nasty hit, didn’t
you? I have a lot to say to you, you know, but since most of it
is profanity, it’ll have to wait for when we have a face-to-face
meeting.”
- Roger that! Agreed! But I still want a report of the situation.
- “The droids are gone. Sargos, Castra and I settled in to
defend, waiting for the trophy team. It should appear in about
five minutes, but they’ve warned us that they will just loot and
go. The fire support group will be ensuring our safety and our
safety alone. About two hundred and fifty meters away, a
large-scale battle is taking place. The clans are trying to figure
out what to do with the queen, but I doubt that they’ll succeed.
What else… Our group cannot go on for much longer: Quartz
has a severe triple fracture of his left hand, and Castra has a
serious burn on her leg. I suggest waiting for the trophy team
and going back to the base on their transport.”
- I agree, that’s what we’ll do, - I said, after thinking for a few
seconds.
Well, judging by the results, we handled the main objective
well: we didn’t lose anybody and we got a lot of trophies.
There were, of course, problems that we hadn’t expected, but I
think we will get a handle on them before moving on to the
laboratory. I’m just worried about the upcoming conversation
with Tilorn. Honestly, even if I could turn back time and work
alone, as I usually do, I would probably choose to do it all
over again. I found myself surprised by that thought. Quartz
distracted me from thinking too much on all of this.

“Volper, forgive me for not handling it,” he began in a hushed
tone.
- It’s fine, never mind, everything is alright, - I said, but this
didn’t reassure him.
- “No, it’s not ok! I let you down when you were counting on
me, and it sucks. You believed in us, invested in our training.
You haven’t yet made good fighters out of us, but we’re already
much better than a week ago! And we’ll only get better, please
believe that!”
Quartz, it seems, had been fired up by the battle and was now
more determined than before. I couldn’t help but admire his
drive, and yet I knew I couldn’t let him go overboard.
Approaching Quartz, I sat down next to him, also leaning
against the wall.
- Quartz, don’t worry, everything is fine; it didn’t work out this
time, but there will be other opportunities to do better. - I tried
to calm him down, but he was already dejected.
- “You just… don’t understand. - He smoothed his hair
absently, obviously thinking something over, and then, looking
up to the remains of the ceiling, he continued. “You know, out
there, in real life, our own parents gave up on us when we
were still kids. There are almost fifty of us in the center, all
with complex brain-related conditions; probably the only thing
that science still can’t heal. You can grow a hand or a leg, they
can treat a lot of complex genetic diseases… but the brain,
unfortunately, is still a mystery to our medical science, despite
all the pompous assurances of various physicians.”
I just sat quietly and listened. Quartz was having a tough time
getting the words out, but all I could do was be there for him.
Give him a chance to talk to someone, offer him
understanding. Quartz raised his hand in front of his eyes and
then clenched and unclenched it several times.

- “You see how well my hand obeys me in here… and yet, out
there, in real life, my hands do what they want, heedless of my
own desires. I can’t eat anything on my own, I can’t even wipe
my own ass. The best I could manage in reality was to walk
around with my hands tied to my body… but here, everything
works just fine, and I can do what I’ve dreamed of doing for
all my adult life. I can do something with these fingers: create
or repair, as I like. It might not seem like much, being able to
work with intricate mechanisms… Not needing to be fed with
a spoon, not…” His voice broke a little. “Not being a burden.”
Turning his head, he looked into my eyes, after which he
slowly looked down and continued in a quiet voice:
“Remember when we told you that you’d need to pick a
profession to do anything properly?”
- Yes. - “It was all bullshit! Forgive us, we lied to you. We were just
ashamed to admit that we’d practically gotten our professions
randomly. When we realized what we could do, what was
available to us, the euphoria swept us away. We just picked
whatever we wanted, without any understanding of what we
were doing. That’s why we ended up as such a useless, weird
group.”
We spent the next several seconds in silence, Quartz collecting
his thoughts while I was looking at the cracks on the opposite
wall. I’d heard about such hospitals, ones where they kept the
terminally ill patients. No matter how sad it was to admit, it
wasn’t the norm to take care of children with disabilities in our
present day society. Almost all diseases could be treated with
our current level of medical technology and knowledge, with
only a few exceptions. Therefore, it was believed that they
shouldn’t spend money or waste their efforts on outliers.
There were three categories of incurable patients. The first
were those who simply didn’t have enough money for proper
treatment. The second were those who couldn’t undergo
certain treatments due to special circumstances. The third were
abandoned children, who had a rare, incurable condition, and

their parents simply didn’t want to spend their entire lives
looking after them. And so they were cared for by volunteers
in special centers. Quartz, meanwhile, had collected his
thoughts and continued speaking.
- “But reality proved harsh indeed! We were ridiculed and told
to reroll constantly. We even tried to join a couple of clans, but
they refused us because they didn’t need such professions in
the field, and we didn’t want to sit around all the time and
craft. In general, we got nothing but disappointment after
disappointment. And then you came out of the blue: showed us
what we could potentially achieve, did your best to teach us,
and most importantly, we have never seen you look at us with
pity or like you’re better than us. You simply treat us like
children. You know, if Tilorn is someone we think of as an
older brother, then, in just a few days, you’ve become almost
like a father to us. Someone who will help us, explain things,
punish us if necessary, and if we make a mistake, he will smile
and just show us how to do it properly. I don’t know how the
others feel, but… Disappointing you is painful for me because
I’ve failed the one person that doesn’t owe us anything but is
still trying to helps us. I hope you understand me, despite my
rambling.”
- I got it, Quartz, I understand! - I replied while patting his
head gently - And I say again, stop worrying about it. You and
the others will get plenty of chances to show me what you can
do. After I said that, I could see he was clearly relieved, which, in
turn, made me relax. I’d been worried he’d take it too hard
ever since he failed to handle Martha.
- “By the way,” he continued, in a slightly more cheerful
voice, “I don’t know if Martha will win or not, but I managed
to leave a beacon inside of it, so if it defeats the clans, they can
demand a rematch.”

- And this, I tell you, is a very good way to improve my mood.
Let’s get going, we don’t want to just sit around while
everyone else does work. We slowly left the ruins and met the rest of the group at the
exit. Although everyone could move on their own, I didn’t
even need to see their health bars to see they were hurt. Castra
was limping pretty badly, her leg bandaged heavily. Sargos
was covered in soot (I can’t even imagine where he’d found so
much of it). Tilorn had cracked or even broken his ribs,
judging by how he moved and breathed.
We looked more like a group of tourists that had been mugged
than a proper fighting squad. We got into one of the trucks and
settled there to rest while the outpost fighters collected all the
trophies. After about forty minutes, the shooting stopped, and
we learned from one of the fighters that the clans had failed to
handle Martha and it had gone off somewhere to found a new
base, but only seven percent of the dome’s energy had been
left by the time they’d been bested by it. Quartz reminded me
about the beacon he’d installed in a whisper, causing everyone
to smile and look very eager to try something else another day.

Only Tilorn was frowning while looking at me. It took the
trophy team almost two hours to collect everything. At first, I
even thought that they wouldn’t have enough room to
transport all these automated machines and the remains of the
droids, but it turned out that most of the trucks had special
containers with a miniaturization system installed within that
allowed them to load much more than they should’ve been
able to. But how they solved the issue of weight, I have no
idea. I didn’t want to torture myself by posing questions to the
engineers who were accompanying the convoy. They seemed
angry at us, probably because we’d destroyed several droids
they would’ve loved to get their hands on in the process of
clearing everything.

When we arrived at the base, they immediately sent Quartz
and Castra to the regeneration capsules. I dragged Tilorn into a
separate room and, sitting down in front of him, invited him to
speak. He hesitated for a couple of minutes, and then he laid
into me with such ferocity that I was rendered mute with
shock. For about ten minutes, he went off with such an artistic
flare and depth to his curses that I began to respect him. I’d
thought of him as a respectable practitioner of medicine, and
here he was, peeling the paint off the walls with his foul
language. I just sat there and smiled, silently listening to him.
I soon realized the conversation wasn’t about anything I’d
feared, so I just let him went. It was kind of adorable, he
sounded like a mother afraid for her baby. He kept lecturing
me about being irresponsible, risking myself needlessly and
possibly leaving the group alone, etc. Eventually, I did have to
interrupt him, however:
- It’s strange how your wards haven’t started calling you
“Mommy” behind your back! - “Um … Oh … that is … What are you talking about?” he
asked, taken aback and unable to process my words.
- Yes, I’m calling you a mother hen! You fret and worry and
threaten punishment, generally meddling everywhere. This is
the problem with most volunteers; you treat everyone with
excessive care. - “But we’re trying to help them,” he began, then abruptly
interrupted himself. “How do you know what we’re like?”
- By word of mouth, from what old grannies have told me…
what a stupid question! Believe it or not, I do have a head on
my shoulders, and sometimes, I even use it to think. And about
the help you give… Yes, some volunteers help, but the others
only make it worse. And worst of all, they’re really trying to
help, from the bottom of their hearts. But instead of supporting
your team, giving them the opportunity to fight, achieve

something and end up being proud that they were able to
overcome their problems, you just start doing everything for
them. Then they give up because the incentive to do something
is lost. Indeed, why strain themselves when there is a
volunteer who will do everything for them? No, I’m not
against what you do; the problem is in the approach. How
about an example… Well, let’s say a man was left without
work and lost his documents. A normal volunteer would help
him find a job and get new documents, after which the person
returns to a normal life thanks to the volunteer. Unfortunately,
the majority of volunteers come at the problem in a different
way: they feed him, provide him with clothes, find a shelter
for him and run around him almost every day, trying to help
him with everything they can. Naturally, that person doesn’t
even think about new documents, nor tries to look for a job,
why would they? And now that he has everything, thanks to
the volunteers, is there any sense in trying to accomplish
anything himself? - “But some can’t get documents or work, ever! There are
people with medical problems that simply cannot be treated at
all. What do they do?” He was indignant.
- Tilorn, you seem like a smart man, but sometimes you act
like a fool. They have health problems in here? - “No, but in real life…”
- What real life? Fuck that! We’re here, not out there! And
here they have no problems, you’ve given them the
opportunity to live a relatively normal life. They no longer
need a volunteer’s help; they don’t need Tilorn the volunteer,
but Tilorn the friend, comrade in arms and brother. A person
they can just rely on in a difficult moment, not a nanny who
will walk behind them and wipe their asses, tying their bibs
around their necks for them if necessary. Yes, I understand that
you are their caretaker, but that doesn’t mean that you have to
lead them by the hand everywhere; it means that you just have
to be there and help them, not do everything for them. Thank
God that, for now, they perceive you as an older brother, but
you will go too far with your care, and if that happens, that’s

liable to change. You think about that, and I’ll go sort out the
equipment. -

Then I left Tilorn alone with his thoughts. Today was
apparently the day Volper would be offering counseling to all,
even if they didn’t schedule an appointment. Unfortunately,
Carefire didn’t have any news for me. What Sanych was doing
was totally incomprehensible: after our conversation, he’d
closed off the training grounds and wasn’t letting anyone in,
wasn’t even responding to messages. In terms of trophies,
Carefire had good news for me; we’d earned at least a few
million, but the full assessment wasn’t done yet. We’d
damaged a lot of the equipment, so they had to run tests on all
of it. We’d know the actual amount we’d earned in a couple of
days. Well, now that that was all settled, I could go rest.
After settling in, I remembered my unspent points. Until now,
I hadn’t believed Tilorn’s explanations, but if everything was
really as he’d said, then an extremely unpleasant image of my
future was forming in front of me. There were too many
different things I didn’t understand. Irala, for example. How
can there be an artificial intelligence in the game, if all the
experiments in reality thus far have failed? I’ll need to visit the
lab tomorrow… Okay, the day after tomorrow, and get to its
processor. Because if it really is self-aware, sooner or later, she
will go mad with loneliness.
Moreover, some hints of this happening are already present in
its behavior. It’s not for nothing that I’d spent a fortune on the
design and assembly of an android girl based on the image in
which she’d appeared to me. It would be ideal if she could join
our group, but even if she decided to go her own way, I’d wish
her well. Compared to helping her escape the hell she was in,
money was a trivial thing. What else was weird? Well, for
example, the fact that Alfarome, in fact, is a city with sixteen
levels (judging by the information I’ve gotten so far). Why
even create a game in which the conventionally peaceful zone

is twice as large as the zone with mobs? Why is it so detailed
as to bother registering all of the NPCs?
Okay, there are quests and other common game mechanics in
this game, but everyone has a past. Even an ordinary janitor
has a background. And they feel pain, as if they were alive,
they don’t just imitate it, but actually experience it. A lot of
things I’ve seen proved as much, from facial expressions to
involuntary twitches. When I tortured those gangsters, I was
quite surprised at first. I had a thought that they were players,
but no, they’d actually been NPCs. And then those mutants …
According to what I learned from Krill, it becomes clear that,
on the fifth level, they have no bases. Why implement a fifth
floor at all if there’s no PVP component, nor is there even a
hint of faction wars?
And the most trivial thing: there is nowhere to throw money
away. There is no auction, or various boutiques. Real estate is
sold only among the outposts; you can’t buy it from the
administration. In general, there is a lack of most of the
elements used to get money out of players which the rest of
the games are so saturated with. After all, the main task of the
creators of the game is to make money. And yet, they seem
like some sort of altruistic, benevolent creators, content to get
the minimum possible out of us to keep running the servers. In
all honesty, they could’ve easily had five, if not ten times the
profits.
Damn, there are just way too many different inconsistencies
and illogical decisions that the creators of this game have
resorted to. Regardless, I had a plan of action and would be
sticking to it: first we would go to the laboratory, get Irala out
of there and give her a new android body, then resolve the
issue of my profession. If Sanych is still out of touch by then, I
will go to my mentors and pick some kind of standard combat
profession for myself. Then everyone gets to train more and I
might even find out why everything is so weird. And make no
mistake, something was rotten in the state of Denmark.

I might be dead soon, but Tilorn’s charges were going to be
spending a long, hopefully happy life here, and so I wanted to
make sure that everything would be alright for them. Alright,
that’s enough insanity for now; I need to use my stat point.
Okay, yeah, there was even an option in the interface labeled
“Distribute free points”. I’ll just add it to Mind… a sign
appeared before my eyes.
Attention! Before the distribution begins, we strongly
recommend having “thirst” and “hunger” at levels not
exceeding 25%. It is also necessary to assume a horizontal
position; the process of rebuilding the body with piconites
may take anything from 20 minutes to twelve hours. Do you
really want to artificially improve your Mind statistic?
Yes/No
Obviously, I pressed the “Yes” button. I saw a flash, felt an
intense headache come on and then lost consciousness.

From Author:
Dear reader, if you’ve read it up to this point, most likely you
liked the book. Therefore, I want to ask to give a couple more
minutes, and leave a review on Amazon. It depends on your
review how quickly I will begin to translate the second of the
five books included in the Alfarome series.

This is the end of the first book.
January 2018

Are you a fan of LitRPG and are you looking for something to
read?
Then don’t miss these two great new books:
Cat’s Game and The Steel Hounds!

Also join LitRPG Society on Facebook to keep up with the
latest news!

To learn more about LitRPG, talk to authors including myself,
and just have an awesome time, please join the LitRPG Group.