Plague tank a litrpg adv.., p.18
Plague Tank: A LitRPG Adventure (Getting Hard Book 2), page 18
“Thanks for the help.”
Luds leaned down with a glint in his eye. “Speaking of tanking, how did you guys manage to kill the Living Statue without a tank?”
And there it was, the question he’d been dying to get answered.
“Maybe it’s better to ask Kezo,” I said. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say anything… and I didn’t know what was going on. I’m new, so I just followed his instructions.”
We went back and forth a bit, but I kept to my story of being an ignorant newbie, unaware of the specifics of what my party was doing. However, Luds was convinced—and he was right—that I was keeping something a secret.
“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” he said with a nonchalant chuckle. “We’re not party mates or anything. But know that you can trust me, you hear?” He conveniently forgot that he tricked me into attacking Mirdabons and getting killed. “Maybe I can help you with the quest you’re doing now. Arakmad’s quests, was it? Is it his laundry? You’re in for a wild ride.”
“I’ve finished that one.” It wouldn’t hurt to ask him about this. According to him, we were ‘sons of Bawu,’ although the prospect of having Luds as a brother wasn’t enticing to me. “Not sure if you know, but there’s a Pathfinder I’m looking for…”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
“Imagine that,” I mumbled as I handed Gibil the Pathfinder the bottle of [Peely Fruit Wine] he grumpily demanded before talking to me. “Luds gave me correct advice.”
I thought Luds was pranking me again when his instructions led me back to the crimson goat. Like in Arakmad’s laundry quest, the goat asked me to dance. And so, I did, after making sure there were no other players nearby.
That stupid goat should just be removed from the game!
At the end of my spectacular dance number, the goat rewarded me with [Peely Fruit Wine]. According to Luds, Gibil would ask for this particular type of wine, so better have it ready when I visited him not to waste time. However, Luds didn’t mention any dancing. Given his personality, he should be laughing his head off if he knew about it.
Was I doing something wrong? Did I make a mistake that triggered the dancing part?
Besides the tip about the [Peely Fruit Wine], Luds also told me exactly where to find Gibil.
The elusive Pathfinder was staying in a small room that was easy to miss, tucked away in the corner of the third level of the ‘Cliff Village.’ It was almost right below Arakmad’s store! And that crazy trapped shopkeeper sent me looking around the main village instead.
Thanks to Luds—which was something I never thought I’d say—I skipped a ton of dialogue and running around, only to end up near where I started. But Luds’ help wasn’t because he had a sudden change of heart to be altruistic and friendly. He just wanted me to reveal the supposed ‘secret’ of Kezo.
“My gratitude for delivering the package to me,” Gibil said as he surfaced after a long swig. “If you’re curious what’s inside—”
“No, I’m not.”
“It contains love letters from my precious Yusa.”
“The laundry lady?” I asked. “But she…” I didn’t continue saying she was in love with a different guy. I didn’t quite get his name because I wasn’t paying attention to her dialogue. For sure, it wasn’t ‘Gibil.’ And he was a Blacksmith, not a Pathfinder.
“My heart flutters at the thought of reading them,” Gibil said. “I hope ink can capture my feelings for her as I write my reply later. That reminds me—I’ll need someone to deliver them to her, for I am avoiding her mother, who dislikes Pathfinders.”
Sensing he might ask me to do it, I changed the topic. “How’s the wine, Gibil, sir? It was difficult procuring a bottle.”
“A fine wine, indeed!” He gestured to the mat across from him. “Come sit and drink with me! The moon is high, the nightly winds blow cold. Best warm up with some Peely Fruit Wine!”
“Thanks,” I said, folding my legs beneath my body. I sunk into the cushy mat. “But I brought that wine just for you. I’d rather that you drink all of it.”
“You already had this with you when you came here?” Gibil shook the bottle before taking another drink. He wiped his mouth and said, “You do know about my tastes! With pleasantries done, and what a pleasant pleasantry this wine is, perhaps you’d like to hear stories about my journey as a Pathfinder?”
“There’s a story I’d like to hear,” I said. “Plus, some questions I want to ask.”
“I’ll try to answer them. What information do you seek, my new friend?”
I was tempted to ask why there was a mysterious goat with bright, deep red fur living in a small hut inside the village. A better question was how that goat could talk and play instruments to accompany my dancing. But I stuck with what I came here for.
“Can you tell me about the Great Quake?” I asked. “Are there other surviving tribes out there?”
“A sad tale, that is,” Gibil said. “A tale that a youngling like you should be familiar with.”
“Let’s just say I’m not good with history.”
“Ah, history… As our ancestors continually watch over us, we should also never forget our past. The Great Quake…” Gibil started by narrating things Mehubanarath had told me before.
The Mountain Guardian, an unbelievably gigantic monster living deep within the mountain, awakened from its sleep a couple of hundred years ago and caused massive quakes. Mardukryon settlements were destroyed, and only Kurghal Village was untouched. All survivors congregated in the last village of the Mardukryons. But there were those, like Chief Nogras and Arakmad, who believed others were out there.
“Why do you think so?” I asked. “Have you found—?”
“The Crabores!” Gibil roared, raising the bottle of wine. “The Hermit Crabores! A toast to the key to finding other tribes!”
I raised my brow. The Crabores were giant crab monsters. The Hermit variant liked to gather various junk they came across and form it into a makeshift shell to protect themselves. “Did you find a Hermit Crabore carrying evidence of other surviving tribes?”
“Might be… might be…” Gibil scraped the bottom of his tusk with the wine bottle. “Hermit Crabores are aplenty on this mountain. Traversing the untraversable, as a Pathfinder should, I’ve encountered many carrying different curiosities, including relics from our past. Pots and pans, weapons, pieces of buildings. Many things! Some of them don’t look too old.”
“Not two centuries old?”
“Precisely, youngling.” Gibil reached inside his leather vest and pulled out a necklace. At the end of the silvery chain was a carving of some serpentine creature constricting a lanky beast I hadn’t seen before. “This is a Sigil Totem I have found in my travels.”
“Sigil Totem? The item used to warp to various locations?”
“Yes, a Sigil Totem like those the Spirit Carvers make. You may have used some of them to quickly move from one point on this mountain to another. This Sigil Totem, in particular, leads to—”
“To an area that had been inaccessible since the Great Quake,” I finished his sentence.
“Yes. How did you—?”
“Is it a newly made Sigil Totem?” I followed up. That was the only logical explanation why Gibil would think this was proof of survivors. No one else could make it other than Mardukryons.
“Brilliant deduction, youngling.” Gibil stuffed his snake necklace back inside his vest. “This Sigil Totem had lost its power due to age. Unfortunate that we cannot use it to travel to its set destination. But that does not mean it is two hundred years old. About three decades, perhaps four at most, is my estimate.
“I had this checked by those grouchy Spirit Carvers at their Lodge. They wouldn’t admit it outright, but I could read from their reactions that they thought this Totem wasn’t from before the Great Quake. From its appearance alone, even a youngling could say that.”
“Well, then, that’s already evidence,” I said. “We should organize a search party and—”
“Rein in the enthusiasm, eager youngling. You might trip over your hooves and fall flat on the ground. The Spirit Carvers dismissed this Totem as something a member of their Lodge made for practice and dropped elsewhere. Others think it could be that a Spirit Carver who survived the Great Quake tried to make a Sigil Totem to return to his home settlement.”
“Could that work? Can we power that Sigil Totem now and warp to where it leads to? Do we have a Sigil Totem recharging station around here?”
“Sad to say, that is not possible. Although I commend you for your ideas, eager youngling.”
“One idea down,” I said with a shrug.
“To power a Sigil Totem, you need to go to the Warp Totem it should connect to.” Gibil placed his hand on his chest where the Sigil Totem should be beneath his leather vest. “This Totem I found could either have never been used and lost its power or one that has never been infused with the energies of this mountain. The Spirit Carvers think it is the latter—a spare lying around that the Hermit Crabores found.”
“You think otherwise?” This was a clue, no doubt about it. Might as well rub it in my face about how obvious it was. “If we’re looking for more clues, how about we follow the Hermit Crabores? We start where you found this Sigil Totem and then track those oversized crustaceans.”
“Alas, Chief Nogras won’t agree to dig holes. Believe me, I tried convincing him. Too dangerous, he says, and that is true, for that is a place only experienced Pathfinders can reach.”
“But we shouldn’t just give up,” I said.
“Not enough proof to risk our people, the chief went on. The colossal beasts were still here—they would’ve gone elsewhere if there was another way. He wouldn’t accept that Hermit Crabores are far smaller and could fit—”
“What colossal beasts?” I blinked as my brain whirred into action. “The Great Hunt!” I slammed my hands on the table in excitement. Fortunately, Gibil was holding the bottle, or I would’ve toppled it. “Pathfinder Gibil, why are the large monsters moving during the Great Hunt?”
Every six weeks, the Great Hunt was held. Mardukryon players could sign up at the Hunter-Warriors Lodge to join the five-day event. Players could hunt rare monsters and gain bountiful loot. There were also Totems that players could exchange for rewards.
I joined Kezo’s party because Megan invited me to increase their numbers. I only knew about it as a game event, not the lore explanation for it.
Gibil laughed while waving his beloved bottle of wine. “You have it backward, confused youngling! There is a Great Hunt because the monsters are moving!” He drew squiggly lines in the air as he explained. “The energies from the Heart of the Mountain flow in a specific way. The beasts congregate in high-concentration spots like Verdant Moths circling the candle flame. One of these places is Rabisu Peak. Another is the Moribund Depths. The stronger the flow of the energies, the more powerful the beasts that feed off the emanations.
“But every so often, for reasons unknown, the mountain breathes. You will feel it. The flow of the energies changes, and the colossal beasts follow. Smaller and weaker animals stay behind for fear of being eaten or trampled by the larger ones. This is an outstanding opportunity for our people to hunt many valuable beasts in one fell swoop—and thus, we have the Great Hunt.
“The colossal beasts search for the strongest emanations of the energies. Oftentimes, those aren’t on our tiny corner of the mountain. If there were a way to get to them, the beasts would’ve found it, and we would’ve followed them. Two hundred years… of nothing.”
“So, that’s how it is.” I nodded, pondering his story. “Thank you for the explanation, Pathfinder Gibil. I hope the Peely Fruit Wine is enough for your stories. I learned a lot.”
It was apparent that the Great Hunt was an essential piece of the puzzle. I should convince my party to explore the area traversed by the migrating beasts during the event.
Many players, especially SpartanDonkey and his Contractors, would’ve searched those places before. But they were missing something.
They’re not with Herald Stone!
“Imparting knowledge to younglings is my duty as an adult,” Gibil said with a chuckle. “I enjoyed talking with such an inquisitive youngling as you, and I also enjoyed the wine. Now, it is time for me to read the letters of my beloved Yusa.” He started to open the parcel, which was the signal for me to leave.
“I better get going.” I straightened my hind legs simultaneously, then extended my front legs one at a time. “Arakmad’s store is near here,” I said, pointing up above. “You should check in on him to not miss your mail.” Funny that he was using the store as a post office box. Yusa probably didn’t go to his house so her mother wouldn’t get angry.
“Yusa usually leaves her letters to me by the end of every fortnight. That is the time I visit Arakmad to sell my wares. I have one more hunting trip to make before going there; there are a few more orders I need to stock.”
“Right, you’re collecting stuff for him.” I slowly sat back down. “By any chance, do you have some extra Majalis that I can buy?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
“Thi-this… this is why…” I huffed, my lungs burning, as I jogged at the speed of a cheetah. A cheetah that was leisurely walking through the savanna without a care in the world. “This… is why wheels were invented.”
I headed to the benches overlooking the pristine Bobwhite River. Several people were there, my fellow joggers watching the sunrise. I tried to calm my breath as I wiped the waterfall of sweat covering my face, pretending I wasn’t literally dying as I neared them.
And I have the audacity to call them ‘fellow’?
At first, I aimed to reach the corner of Ruffed Grouse Avenue and Falconet Street before resting. My mind was willing, but my flesh was weak. Actually, my mind was also screaming for me to rest.
I didn’t have to walk—correction: jog. I didn’t have to jog far before finding an empty bench.
As I sat my tired ass on the cool stone, the sunlight greeted me, framing the expensive boats sailing the river.
“This must be what it feels like drinking Morabodry,” I said. My vision was blurry. I couldn’t feel my muscles. It reminded me of the sensation of a leg falling asleep. “But what a scenic view. This belongs on a postcard if people still used those.”
When I was a kid, I biked this way to school farther up the road. It was an unassuming street back then, lined by modest homes and accented by an occasional store. At present, it was one of the prime areas of Egret City. Expensive apartment buildings stood in line on this side, while vacation homes with docks and boats had taken over the opposite bank.
“Maybe I should buy a boat?” I muttered to myself.
The last time I swam—actual swimming, not merely relaxing in shallow water—was during Paul’s birthday party in high school. I vividly remembered it because I was envious of his family’s large house with a swimming pool. That was also the last gathering with my friends I attended before my family moved out of this city a week later.
Doubtful of my swimming skills, I dismissed the idea of boating.
Sticking to wheels and roads is best for me, I thought as I activated my WeeCee. A small screen appeared. I commanded, “Search for the history of the wheel.”
Several pages of history websites popped up. I flipped through them, waving my fingers in the air. They all narrated that the first use of the wheel was for making pots. About three hundred years passed before people thought of using them for transportation.
“Turns out Herald Stone isn’t a wheel expert,” I said with a shrug. “That’s enough about wheels. Time to use my legs.”
As I tried to stand up, my legs wobbled like a child learning to walk. I sat back down.
Passing out while exercising at Mr. Armand’s gym—which, by a weird string of events, led me to Mother Core Online—was already embarrassing as pink potato. Herald Stone fainting on the street, surrounded by many people, would be a humiliating spectacle.
“A few more minutes of rest,” I told myself. I tapped my wrist, activating my WeeCee again to check my MCO character—the bestest character ever in the whole of Hierakon.
The source of that fact was my ass.
Players could access their character stats and inventory through the MCO site. Amusing that I was more excited about this than viewing my stock market portfolio. Money shouldn’t be the end goal of life. It was finding things that made us happy—as lectured by Herald Stone, the Enlightened Ponderer.
And what made me happy right now was the bottles of Morabodry I managed to craft this morning.
Pathfinder Gibil was kind enough to sell me the extra [Majalis] he had; I bought thirty of them at six hundred Artas apiece for a total of eighteen thousand Artas. That was already with a discount because I gifted him his favorite wine. While the price didn’t sound high, and I assumed it would’ve been more expensive given Arakmad’s possibly bullshit story of how to get it, I also had other ingredients to gather.
I got [Amberite] from the Miners selling them at two hundred Artas for each yellow crystal the size of my pinky. I shouldn’t forget to include in my calculations the [Poison Bottle] from Arakmad priced at fifty Artas each.
I managed to lower my expenses by farming the [Limerian Toad Skin] myself. The Eternally Unfrozen Pond was a few minutes of light trotting from the frozen pond where I learned how to fish. Those bright green toads were easy to spot against the background of the white snow. They weren’t particularly beefy at level fourteen, and neither did they hit hard.
They would’ve been a breeze to farm were it not for those noisy amphibians healing each other!
I couldn’t fight more than three at the same time, or my joke of a damage couldn’t overcome their healing spells. If I didn’t have [Mantle of Kindling] to help with Burn, I probably would’ve gone down to only two frogs. I also had to drag them away from the pond with [Enraging Call] so other passing frogs wouldn’t join in the healing fest.
