Legends of Orlea

Chapter 13

Zirem felt a shiver run down his spine. As he shuddered and re-read the message four or five times, he heard a buzzing sound, and a bright blue flash. A mad looking player, male, stared at him. His eyes glinted with madness, and his tongue stuck out occasionally, making him look like a snake. The player grinned, his wide smile deforming his face as he started laughing maniacally, shaking his long, brown hair. Then he rushed forward, eyes and axe flashing simultaneously.

Startled, Zirem jumped back, closing the menu with practiced ease. He got into a comfortable position, and flexed his knees, leaping skyward just as the PKer was swinging his battle-axe. The crazed grin faded for a second, until the warrior noticed his prey.

However, Zirem wasn't going to let himself get hurt, or even worse, killed. He blocked the axe, but the weapon blurred, re-focusing itself after it had passed his first sword. He gasped, "Wha-", and was a second late blocking the strike, taking damage. He moaned, but got to his feet as fast as he could. 

As the blades clashed again, the axe blurred and passed right through his sword, but was parried by his second blade, which started an offensive of his own, trying to get through the other player's defences. As all three weapons clashed together, neither of them backed down. Zirem grunted, pushing forward, using every stat point he had to break through his enemy's defence. 

Finally, one sword pushed through, and before he could stop it, pierced his neck, dealing all the damage he could take. The madman died. Instantly, two more appeared, followed by a third. Zirem murmured something, then charged, rage boiling over once again. 

Nothing but anger. He didn't feel. He didn't touch. He was angry, and that was it. The feeling of never being appeased came back, leaving him even more frustrated. All the players fell, one after the other, and a massive pillar of stone shot up out of the ground, a door opening to reveal a dark staircase. He'd reached floor 37.

On floor 37, the main theme was death, haunted and spookiness, and its inhabitants were races like the monstrous Lloselians, the cursed Kreastids and the undead Qhanichians. As Zirem walked through the floor, killing every beast he found and obtaining, in total, 43 added stat points, he searched fruitlessly for the boss dungeon.

However, as he racked up XP and stats, he unlocked another skill/talent slot. Currently, he had seven, and was using four with his one-handed sword skill, his dual-wield skill, his Rogue Deathknight soul and finally, his low level magic skill, only with 121 points, while the others were well past that, with a minimum of 560/5000 mastery points. His best skill was dual-wielding, which was at 753/7500.

As he found a fourth Lloselian, the transparent ghost-like beast roared, ebony coloured eyes seeming to absorb the light around them, rendering them even darker. The pale white transparent skin seemed to glow in the dim sunlight that managed to get through the wall of thick clouds overhead, and the mouth was frozen in a rictus of pain.

Zirem drew his swords, starting a merciless attack, and tearing to shreds the monster before it could try to evade his blows. His breathing ragged, he sheathed his swords and walked on. No more monsters appeared, and he reached a little town, one populated by NPCs and not players. Good. Those had become pretty common, and with all the players wanting to PK, there was a constant sense of being menaced.

The NPCs working at the town looked up at him, frowns plastered on their faces at the intrusion. Zirem asked, "Hello. Is there anywhere I can stay for the night?" One NPC nodded, and waved his hand down. His menu opened, and he pressed a button on it. Instantly, a screen popped up in front of him, asking, "Confirm to rent a flat for 500 Vomjrin per day?" He pressed yes. 

500 Vomjrin disappeared from his 43 679, and he saw a building flash gold, and entered it, falling down on the bed and sighing with relief and comfort. Another day gone by where he hadn't died. Another day where he had gone up a few floors. But still, he wasn't even close to his goal, and he couldn't afford to relax any more than was useful.