“Those with much trust are those destined for the grave.”

Ines the Black.

As it turned out, “North of here,” as Wilhelm had described it, meant making my way over a pretty substantial hill of mostly rock. A tall escarpment of deep grey stone lay ahead of me, and at first I thought I’d have to find a way around, but after slashing down a row of pretty nasty thorn bushes, I discovered what must have been the cart path used by the villagers when they’d fled the Weeping Hills.

The rain had stopped while I was inside, and I walked the hump of earth between the tracks, making my way up the crag to a clearing on the ridge overlooking a shallow basin where the villagers had made camp. There were two groups, both clustered around campfires cooking something. Between them, I spotted the mule, his eyes half closed as if trying to sleep, and the cart behind him, still linked to the cart by two thick leather straps that reached to a harness fastened around him.

The villagers were far enough away from each other that I could probably take them one group at a time, but as I took my first steps down towards them, something moved at the far end of the hollow. A player, wielding a Bloodletter, leapt into action, driving his blade into the back of the closest villager.

The damage was good, but not enough. I glanced at him and saw that he was out of his league.

Dorrin—Level 2

One-on-one would be a different story, but a group of three was surely going to make a mess of him, and as the first of them spun and bashed his mug with the blunt end of a shovel, and I saw his health drop by a third, I knew I was right.

Idiot, I thought, as the overzealous Seeker swung wildly, fighting desperately to fend off the incoming blows. But the camps had to be cleared out anyway, so why not help him?

Planting my food on a jagged butte of stone protruding from the ground, and vaulted down the slope towards him. He was dangerously low as I reached the group, but had managed to get one of the villagers to half health. I sank my axe into its exposed back, dealing a massive blow that finished it off.

Dorrin grunted in obvious surprise as the corrupted man fell to his knees and began to disappear. Collecting his Quintessence, I sidestepped a torch aimed at my head and slashed out twice in quick succession, filling my Rally bar to half.

45-51

I Shadowstepped to get behind him as he flailed wildly with a pitchfork, and drove my axe tip into his back.

68

“Heal!” I shouted to Dorrin as the villager spun around to face me. The poor idiot scrambled with a vial of Soothing Syrup, dropped it, then pulled out another.

The next attack from my axe was just right, and I watched as his legs halved just below the knee, spraying blood across the rocky ground.

MASSIVE!

110

“Holy shit!” Dorrin exclaimed, his words stumbling over the syrup slinking down his throat.

I was shocked myself. I’d never seen such gruesome damage before. Maybe because I was now level 3 and they were only level 2? Or was it simply a function of scoring a random massive?

There was no time to think. As the villager fell, I struck his chest, slamming him down into the ground and finishing him off. He cried out and my rally bar swelled with purpose.

I knew the final villager would be attacking me from behind, aiming at my back with his torch, but Shadowstep was on cooldown still. I doubted I had time to get out of the way, but I tried anyway. To my surprise, I actually managed to avoid the attack, but it didn’t matter—something worse was happening.

Somehow, the other camp of Corrupted Villagers had been triggered, and four of them were racing towards us, weapons held high, faces twisted in rage. The mule bucked and whimpered as they passed, causing the cart to rattle and shake.

I slashed up and out ferociously, cutting the closest villager with a full bar of Rally.

125

Then back down across the arm wielding his torch.

119

“I got him!” Dorrin shouted, plunging his Bloodletter into the man’s back. I couldn’t see the damage he dealt, but it wasn’t near as good as mine. But then again, it didn’t have to be. He took off half of what was remaining, and I caught the man beneath his jaw to finish him off. He cried out and fell, but before I could spin around to face the second incoming group, I felt a set of three spikes bore into my side.

39

My health dropped, my Rally bar vanished and pain flared where I thought my kidneys would be, and my foot caught a branch, sending me toppling over. I raised my axe to deflect the incoming attack, but it wasn’t enough. Two of the villagers stabbed down at me, one with a pitchfork and one with a pickaxe. Both blows found their mark.

41—57

A third of my health was gone, and the villagers were still at full health. Dorrin was just standing there looking stupid as the entire group focused on me.

“Do something!” I roared, lashing out at a pair of ankles beside me. The damage wasn’t great, but it was enough to take the man’s legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard and grunted as his breath escaped his lungs.

A shovel cracked my skull and sent me spinning. I rolled, taking advantage of the extra momentum, and popped the cork on a vial of Soothing Syrup. My health was approaching half and I still had to take out the entire group, and relying on Dorrin to carry the fight was something only a fool would do.

But as I raised the tiny glass bottle to my lips, a frenzied scream rang out and a torch blunted my hand, causing the elixir to splash to the ground.

“Don’t worry!” Dorrin screamed. “I got this!”

Before the villager could follow up with a direct attack, Dorrin slashed the backs of his legs with his rapier. It was decent damage, but the twisted man simply spun around and swatted him away like a fly. Dorrin hit the ground hard, sending his legs toppling up over his head and yanking him into an awkward roll.

I needed to heal, but there was no time. Three attacks rained down on me at once, all connecting, decimating my health bar. I glanced at it, and saw only 87 health remained.

They’re going to kill you! I thought as the three raised up with blows that would certainly finish me off. Is this how you’re going to go out? To a bunch of Level 2? What would Rathborne think?

Shadowstep was up, and I used it. Wraithing into blackness, I passed right through my attackers and solidified on the other side. I heard an audible gasp from Dorrin as I brought my axe down like I was chopping wood. There was no time. If I didn’t handle this group immediately, I’d be dead. Just a couple of hits and I was finished.

Tearing my blade loose of the villager’s flesh, I swept out with a wide cleaving attack that chattered across all four of them like a saw blade skipping through rough wood.

55—49—48—54

My Rally bar flexed and with the next hit, flared. Dorrin drove his Bloodletter into an exposed ankle, sending one of the men toppling towards me. My axe caught his neck as he fell, combing our momentums into a devastating attack.

Massive!

270

The villager’s head came right off and struck his comrade high on the cheek.

“Oh, sick!” Dorrin cried out as I leapt aside of a pitchfork and stabbed out, driving my attacker back. A shovel was coming straight down at me, and I lifted my Blunderbuss and fired.

Doooommmmm!

The riposte sounded as my slugs caught him in the face. I didn’t even hesitate as my axe sparked crimson, but drove it straight into his guts. Combined with my full rally, the blow was enough to almost finish him, and when Dorrin pierced him from behind with the sharp tip of his sword, the villager let out a sickly cry, gurgled blood and fell forward.

Two left! I thought triumphantly. My health was still low, and I was desperate for some syrup, but there was no time. A torch was plunging towards me. I slapped it aside, catching the villager’s wrist with my blade.

51

Dorrin leapt into the air and brought his sword down in a piercing attack that caught the corrupted man in the side of his neck. It must have caught an artery, and blood sprayed like it had been sprayed from a syringe. His attack did about as much as mine, and I followed up with two quick blows to his chest.

78—82

He had about a third left, but I couldn’t finish him off. I had to throw myself to the ground to avoid the last villager’s attack. Taking any damage would be catastrophic. Not only was I dangerously low on health, but I needed my Rally bar if we were going to win.

I tried to riposte, but mistimed it, and his pitch fork embedded itself in my chest, tearing away half of my remaining HP.

44 left, I grimaced as he yanked the three pointed tips from my flesh. My own blood spilled onto the ground before me, and a sick feeling ran through my stomach. Dropping my Blunderbuss, I took a two handed grip on my axe and raised it above my head to deflect the next blow. Then, I drove the handle up and caught the man in the chin, temporarily staggering him.

Behind him, Dorrin was doing his best with the other one, whose health was all but gone.

He’s got him, I thought as I rolled and Shadowstepped behind my attacker.

Driving the spear end of my axe into his back, I charged forward and slammed him into a tree.

88

The villager cried out and swung wildly over his shoulder with his pitchfork. I sidestepped, choked down on my axe and raised it back with both hands. The cursed man tried to spin around, but it was too late. I brought my axe down with everything I had, swinging like I was going for a home run.

Massive!

290

My blade passed straight through him, carving him in half and imbedding itself in the trunk of the tree. Blood poured as his final death wail caught in his throat. His body fell in two pieces. Behind me, I heard Dorrin’s foe die as well.

Quintessence swirled around me as I turned around, my blade dripping corrupted life juice onto the ground. I heard the happy sound as I hit Level 4, my chest heaving triumphantly, as I smiled wide at the deathly scene in front of me.

“You all right?” I called out to Dorrin. He looked shell shocked.

“Yah!” he called back. Beside me, the mule hee-hawed softly and I couldn’t help but think it was a sound of approval. I scooped a few Soothing Syrup from the ground, retrieved my Blunderbuss and strode over to him.

“What were you thinking, man?” I scolded him. “Don’t you know those guys would kick your ass? Way too many of them.”

“I do now,” he replied, obviously embarrassed. “I guess I just thought—I mean—I know this game takes skill, so I thought maybe I could get the best of them.”

“Well, think a bit harder next time,” I scoffed, collecting more Quintessence from the fallen foes.

Dorrin had a very boyish face and was still wearing starter gear. I certainly could have been wrong, but I just got the vibe from him that this was an awkward loner who probably looked about the same in real life. Delusions of grandeur, thinking he could handle a situation well above his station.

But there was something else in his eyes—something dark.

“That’s a badass cape,” he said admiringly.

“Thanks,” I nodded. My Rally bar was still full, but fading slowly, obviously maintained by staying in combat.

“I really would have been in trouble if you hadn’t come along,” he added.

Yeah, yeah, I thought. My health was still low, as I hadn’t bothered popping a syrup after the fight ended. Pretending I was interested in the mule, I turned my back on the boy and sipped the cool air, waiting for what I knew was coming. When I heard the rustle of his clothes behind me, I couldn’t help but smile.

I spun, and my Blunderbuss roared as he brought his Bloodletter down towards me. Just before the riposte sounded, I saw a flash of horrified shock in his eyes.

Complete and utter betrayal.

The riposte went off, and the silly boy collapsed to his knees.

“Make it less obvious next time,” I scolded him. “Oh, and get good while you’re at it.”

I saw a look of fear and regret in the poor bastard’s eyes as I drove my Loathsome Axe into his chest.

Massive!

380

The damage shocked me, but then again, he was the first player I’d ever attacked and he was wearing only newbie starter gear. Add onto that my riposte and full Rally, and I guess it made sense. The light vanished from his eyes and he collapsed to the ground.

Unlike the beasts of Blood Seekers, Dorrin dropped no Quintessence, but when you were killed by another player, your loot was fair game to the victor. I looked down at his fallen body.

Corpse of Dorrin—Slain by Rand

A slight gleam came from his chest and I bent down and rand my hand through it. His inventory appeared, displaying every item he had on him. His Bloodletter wasn’t there, which I assumed was a single bit of mercy from Mizaguchi, ensuring low level players wouldn’t be deprived of their starter weapon, but the rest was fair game.

I selected his starter pants and dragged them into my inventory, smiling to myself as I thought about him running around with nothing but a loincloth, fighting through the woods with Death Penalty trying to retrieve his body, then discovering he had no trousers.

“Serves you right, dick,” I said to myself as I popped a few Soothing Syrup to restore my health to full. I turned and walked over to the mule and put a hand on his strong neck. He blew air in a familiar way as I stroked his thin mane.

The mule tossed his head in a way that seemed happy to me, and I took the reins that hung from his halter and lead him away from the carnage back to the old cart track. I had enough Quintessence to raise my Strength again, bringing it up to 13, and was

Rand—Level 4 Vitality:11 HP = 277 Toughness:5 Strength:13 Skill:5 Viletaint:8 Intellect:5

I gave the mule a pad on his head as the cart’s wheels found the worn parts of the track. “You’ll be my friend though right, pal?”