“Disagreement with the foreman,” offered an unexpected voice by way of explanation.

The announcement had come from behind me, and it belonged to the strategically-shaved gorilla who’d harassed us when I’d entered the reclaimed boss chamber. His newfound smile was slightly reassuring, but only just. Either he was feeling much friendlier (having worked out his frustrations on my furry-faced associate) or he was imagining how much fun he was going to have punching me until Tiny and I became a matching set. I prayed that it wouldn’t be the latter, quietly giving thanks for my decision to purchase the ankle blade. It would be faster to reach than the superior dagger stored in my inventory, if he gave me cause to reach for it.

I stood up straight and puffed out my chest, trying my best to look tough. Then I returned my gaze to the gory remains of the building worker. “In that case, I’ll be staying clear of your foreman, if I can help it. He must be a bit of a psychopath.”

“That he is,” the stranger replied, adding: “But I’d prefer that you address me by my full title, Grom, King of the Psychopaths.” His sly smile crept wider.

Oh shit. The shaved gorilla did this? And to Tiny, of all people? Just how strong is he?

“Relax, noobster,” the would-be king continued, bursting into laughter. “I ain’t here to bust yer balls over yer lack of work, I saw what kept yeh occupied. Standoff with a hellhound, eh? Impressive. I think we can forgive yeh fer gettin’ distracted, especially when it was my piece of crap assistant who left you in the lurch.” With that, he pointed to the avatar formally known as Tiny, adding an offensive hand gesture for good measure. “An’ as for this sack of shit, the prick had it comin’, trust me. Thought he was too good for construction, spent half his time pickin’ on the other workers.”

“Yeah, I know all about it. We met once, already…”

“Really? Once is once too many, so yeh have my condolences.” He returned his attention to the corpse and began to tut, shaking his head. “Real fall from grace, that one. The dumb fuck was a member of Kronan’s top raid party, once, wasted the best opportunity he ever had. Hell, he only got this job as a favor to one of his old gang members, an’ now he’s fuckin’ that up, too. Stupid bastard. I’d give my entire inventory to drop my contractor status an’ join Clan Kronan, yet he threw it all away.”

“So, joining a gang is recommended, then?” I asked. Because so far, I only had Samusk’s word for that, and I couldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Which was probably a decent distance by now, admittedly.

“If yeh wanna stand any chance of makin’ it to the surface, then yeah, find yerself a gang. Tryin’ to stay independent is admirable, but most find they hit a wall around level 5. It’s hard to level beyond that if you don’t belong to a raid party or have higher-level buddies to help yeh grind yer skills. Speakin’ of which, gimme a moment to read yer stats, so’s I can figure out the best use for yer skillset.”

“You have high-level perception?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s currently sittin’ at 6.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, an’ it’s perfect fer my current role. My high perception allows me to easily perceive structural weaknesses, an’ a quick glance at a prisoner tells me everythin’ I need to know to best allocate ‘em. Which in turn helps boost my leadership skill, ‘cos well-allocated workers seriously boost productivity.

Well, that was an unexpected but interesting titbit. Reaching 6 in perception bestows the ability to perceive the weaknesses of others. That would be a fantastic skill to have if I encountered the Dungeon Warden again. Knowing his weaknesses could only make him so much easier to kill, and help compensate for the inevitable disparity between our levels when I finally made my move. Yep, there was no question about it: generating and grinding the perception skill was now more important than ever.

I realized that the self-proclaimed ‘Emperor of the Psychopaths’ was studying me with said skill like one might study a highly detailed painting. It was awkward, but nowhere near as uncomfortable as my last visit to the chamber, when the locals were looking at me like lunch.

This was what he saw…

USERNAME: SHADE

PRIMARY SKILL: SWORDSMAN – LEVEL 2

XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED – 78

SECONDARY SKILL: THIEF – LEVEL 1

XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED – 33

PRIMARY TRAIT: SLAVEOWNER – LEVEL 1

XP REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED – 68

Rep: -23/30

HP: 75/100

Mana: 0/50

Alliances: Owner of Samusk (Dwarf, slave)

PHYSICAL STATS -

Strength: 4 (Cap 5)

Agility: 1 (Cap 4)

Speed: 3 (Cap 4)

Stamina: 3 (Cap 5)

Resilience: 4 (Cap 4)

Accuracy: 1 (Cap 5)

Defence: 1 (Cap 5)

Armed combat: 3 (Cap 6)

Unarmed combat: 1 (Cap 3)

Carrying capacity: 1 (Cap 2)

INTANGIBLE STATS -

Magical attack: 0 (Cap 1)

Perception: 0 (Cap 4)

Charisma: 0 (Cap 2)

Disguise: 0 (Cap 1)

Luck: 0+1 (Cap 2+1)

Healing: 0 (Cap 0)

Mana generation: 1 (Cap 3)

Leadership: 0+2 (Cap 2+2)

Homemaking: 0 (Cap 2)

OUTSTANDING QUESTS –

Protect the dwarf (ongoing)

Pleasure the Knight (repeatable)

“Hmmm. That’s an odd mix of stats for a noob, all right,” he eventually declared. “And I’m not even going to ask about that last quest.”

“It’s a-”

“Ssssh. Seriously, don’t wanna know mate. What yeh get up to in yer own cell is yer own damn business. But with stats like yours, I can understand why yer interested in construction.

With that, we stepped over Tiny’s now-disintegrating remains and made our way to the building site. As I took another glance at his bashed-in face, I was reminded to ask an important question.

“So, ah… just to be certain, my charisma doesn’t make you want to smash my face in with a brick too, does it?” I figured that it was better to find out before, not after the fact.

“Yeh do have that low charisma smell, admittedly, although I’m much too polite to bring such things up.”

“That ah… didn’t really answer the question.”

“Relax, noobster. So long as you’re a good worker, I can live with yer faults. So, listen up, here’s what we’re gonna do with yeh. See that cell on the end, there?”

“The one with the lone worker?” I replied, spotting a half-orc who was hard at toil by himself.

“Yeah, that’s the one. The poor bastard’s in the same boat as you. Zero charisma. Worse off, in fact, ‘cos he’s a h’orc on top of everythin’ else. I try to keep him as far from the other prisoners as I can. Some of the lads on the crew have a tendency to think with their fists, and I don’t want them making his ugly mug even uglier. But he’s a decent guy. He’ll tell yeh what to do.”

“One last thing before you go…” I added while pointing to Samusk, who was struggling to drag a sack full of monster meat across the chamber. “Did you have any luck toughening him up?”

“Yep, the little bastard finally got his first resilience point. Some of the things he called me in the process though… let’s just say it was a pleasure helpin’ yeh out.”

Ignoring the dirty looks from a bloody Samusk, I made my way over to the half-orc, introduced myself, and cringed for introducing myself again. I really needed to try to break that habit. It was becoming increasingly obvious that having zero perception was the exception around here, not the rule.

The worker was quick to introduce himself and friendlier than I could have hoped. He cheerfully told me that his name was Kraitos and explained that he had only arrived two months prior to myself.

As he spoke, I finally understood what Samusk meant by the zero charisma ‘effect’. Something inside me was screaming, nay, demanding that I admit to my utter hatred of this man, despite having nothing to base that hatred on. Was this what it was like to be around me, I wondered?

Holy shit. If it is, I need to level up my charisma stat and fast.

If my own charisma deficiencies were having the same effect on the half-orc, he was much too polite to let it show. Instead, he hurriedly got to work on showing me the ropes. The task was pretty straightforward: basic bricklaying, albeit with bricks that were each the size of a large microwave. It wasn’t long before I finally got to work.

The weight of each block was backbreaking, but my strength stat was just about up to the task, even if my attempts to place the blocks were a little crooked at first. The good-natured Kraitos had just laughed and assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem. ‘These are not luxury hotel rooms for passing adventurers to hang their sword in for the night’, he’d declared. ‘We’re building purely for function, not aesthetics.’

There was no real thought required, thankfully. Just cement, then brick, then cement, then brick, my mind zoning out as I continued the repetitive action along the pre-marked boarders of the soon-to-be cell. In some ways, the chance to go on auto-pilot was exactly what my exhausted brain had desperately needed.

At first, I was surprised (and yeah, a bit disappointed) that my stats weren’t being affected by the continuous labor (besides a small boost to my max stamina and the 25 HP I lost by dropping a huge slab of granite on my foot). But after an hour or so of repeated activity, I was suddenly hit by a flurry of messages.

-[ You have acquired one additional base point in strength. Rank has increased to 5. XP required to reach rank 6: N/A, cap reached. Recommendation: Increasing your swordsman level will raise your strength cap. ]-

-[ Congratulations, you have developed the builder skill. Through hard work and perseverance, you have been allocated your first base point in this useful skill. XP required to reach level 2: 99. ]-

-[ Special achievement reward: You now have an additional skill, but good builder needs stamina to get him through a hard day’s work. Additional XP bonus to stamina: +30. Congratulations: You have reached your next base point in stamina. Rank has increased to 4. XP required to reach rank 5: 90. ]-

“What’s wrong?” asked Kraitos, as he watched me stare off into space.

“I just got my builder skill,” I replied, cheerfully.

“Already? Wow, that’s really something. Generating that skill took me a full day back when I started out. Granted, I wasn’t as strong as you when I arrived, so the bricks I was working with were a lot smaller, and that really affected my productivity. I take it your strength just reached level 5, then?”

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

“It’s a prerequisite that has to be met before the builder skill finally kicks in,” he replied, confirming to me that knowledge really was power in Atone Online. “Accuracy helps too, it improves the finish of your work. But like I said, there isn’t much call for that around here, they want quantity, not quality. Anyway, well done.”

I felt smug. This really was the ideal place for me to grind my skills while I waited for my meeting with General Nyx. Sure, the disparity between my strength and everything else was growing, but I’d only been working for about an hour and already I’d learned a new skill. More importantly, my strength was now at its cap for my level. And that meant with any luck (something I’d also acquired in my short time here) any further strength XP gained could be placed into perception, albeit with a 50% penalty. Things were finally starting to go my way.

We continued to toil for what felt like another two hours (it was the first time I realized that I didn’t have an effective way to gauge the passage of time). During that period, I continued to grind my strength like a muscle being worked to fatigue, motivated by my true intention for that precious strength XP, only stopping for a five-minute break every twenty minutes or so to allow my stamina to recover. It too was benefiting, and when I finally gained another strength point, I got the message I was hoping for: ‘strength XP has been rejected.’ I nervously waited for a follow-up message, and after twenty seconds or so, my prayers were finally answered.

-[ Would you like to reallocate this XP to another skill? Warning: A 50% penalty will apply. ]-

Without a second thought, I traded the 100XP value of the strength base-point for 50XP in perception. And then something amazing happened.

-[ You have acquired your first base point in perception. Rank I. XP required to reach rank 2: 99. ]-

I immediately turned to my workmate. And hot damn, there it was, hovering above his head in bold, slightly pixelated white letters. It was the half-orc’s name: Kraitos. Underneath it, were two further sections. ‘HP - ????’ and ‘Skill level - ????’. A teaser of things to come, I imagined, once I’d built the stat up a little more.

“What’s happened now?” asked Kraitos, as he stared perplexed at the grown man dancing around in front of him like a toddler full of sugar.

“I finally gained perception,” I announced. “I can see your fucking name.”

“You gained perception while grinding building?” he replied, looking somewhat bewildered. That’s a new one.”

“I have a special technique,” I replied, smugly.

“Really? Well, you can explain it to me over lunch. I wouldn’t mind sharpening that skill myself.”

Lunch. That word brought me down to earth. Because unlike stamina, one form of fatigue could not be satisfied by rest. My stomach was growling more than ever.

The answer to those prayers came about ten minutes later, in the form of a small bell being rung by a dwarf. He was bald, but his massive beard was more than willing to compensate. Oddly, he was only the second dwarf I’d seen in the chamber since I’d arrived.

“Grub’s up, ye bunch o’ reprobates” he announced.

“Finally,” I cried, dropping a slab of granite where I stood.

“About bloody time,” agreed the half-orc. “My stomach feels like my throat’s been cut.”

A swarm of bodies descended upon the group of supervisors whose job it was to hand out parcels of food to the weary workers. Keen to acquire our share, we made our way through the growing mass of sweaty prisoners. The dwarf was closest to me, handing out parcels wrapped in dead-looking leaves. I graciously took one, unwrapping it as I walked away. My excitement quickly faded.

“Is that…”

“Raw boss meat,” confirmed the half-orc, accepting his own parcel.

Suddenly I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was.

I looked over to the corpse and grimaced.

“Try to think of it as sushi,” a barbarian laughed, before pushing past me to receive his own ration.

I cringed again, then took a quick look around for my dwarven ‘slave.’ Finding him sitting on his own next to a fallen statue, I bundled up my rations and made my way over, wordlessly taking a seat in the dirt beside him. It came as no surprise that Samusk had no interest in sitting with his fellow zeros. This was a man who only had time for others if there was something they could ultimately do for him. He grunted as I sat down, focusing only on his grotesque meal.

Kraitos joined us and made to sit beside me. That was when the dwarf finally spoke.

“Hey, hey, hey, find yer own spot, asshole. One zero charisma noob is hard enough for me to stomach while I’m sittin’ here eatin’ this crap. Two is more than even I can stand. Do ye want me to puke up my fuckin’ rations?”

“Hey, behave,” I snapped, hitting the dwarf of firm smack on the back of the head.

“Oi, yer supposed to be protectin’ me, not knockin’ the damn hit points outta me. I haven’t that many left now, y’know?”

“Show the man some respect, you little shit. He’s shown me more empathy than anyone else here, yourself included.”

“It’s okay man,” said the half-orc, returning to his feet. “I understand, really. To be fair, I’m only just getting used to having a guy with zero charisma around, I can’t imagine what two must be like. We’re a lot harder to tolerate than I’d realized. Sit with your friend, I’ll see you after lunch. I’ll look forward to learning how you leveled up like that.”

“See? He understood,” sneered the dwarf, before returning to his rations.

“It’s still rude.”

“So’s lettin’ yer friends get their heads kicked in.”

“Oh, so we’re friends now, are we? Funny that, now that you’ve lost the ability to order me around.” I gave him an accusing look. “You know, for all your talk of helping me, I’m starting to think that maybe you’re just a weight around my neck. I make a friend, you chase him off. You make an enemy, I end up getting my crap kicked in by them and thrown in the damn hole as punishment.”

Samusk didn’t reply, focusing only on his food.

“Well?” I asked.

“If you wanted a damn answer, maybe ye should have ordered me to reply,” he spat, curtly.

I sighed and unwrapped my own rations. The food, gross as it looked (and smelled), actually tasted fantastic. Shadow stallion sashimi, my new favorite dish… who knew. The young apprentice had been on the money: the most difficult kills really were the tastiest. And to my relief (considering that the big bastard had been lying out in the open all night) it tasted as fresh as the day it had been eating me. I guess mob meat takes an unusually long time to spoil.

“Hmmm. Good, eh?” I declared, waving a piece at Samusk.

The dwarf nodded. “Yeah. It’s decent. Make the most of it, though. One of the other workers was tellin’ me that the damn cooks will try an’ make this go as far as possible. Apparently, they’ll mix it with more of that grey slop, an’ spread the meat so thin ye may as well be eatin’ rat again.”

“Is that so…?” I replied, spying an opportunity to fulfil my quest after all. “In that case, I wonder if I could swipe a couple of boss steaks to bring back to NoobCrusher. That’s got to be worth a few hours training, surely.”

What I was really thinking was, I wonder if I could order my dwarf to swipe a couple of boss steaks on my behalf, but I wasn’t sure that particular wording would go down well, and I wanted an honest answer.

“Don’t try it, lad. Yer hardly my favorite prisoner at the moment, but the last thing I need is a bodyguard who’s had both his hands chopped off at the wrists. The Clan Kronan don’t take kindly to thieves, from what I hear. An’ we’re tryin’ to get on their good side, remember?”

“I suppose.”

Damn. Much as I was growing to hate Samusk, could I really do that to him? It wasn’t worth considering anyway. As my slave, the fallout was bound to make its way back to me. With that in mind, it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Thanks for the warning. And the job,” I added, figuring that an olive branch couldn’t hurt. I’d already taken my revenge, after all. “This job is a pretty sweet deal. I’ve levelled up my stats, the food’s good, and I think I’ve even got us a meeting with General Nyx.”

And yes, I was trying to be nonchalant about that last part. I wanted the little git to know that I was becoming independent, and that if he was going to ride my coat-tails, he’d better find a way to become useful. The look on his face suggested that the statement had deliver exactly the message I had intended.

As we ate, the atmosphere between us was as cold as one would expect, so we sat in silence, dining on boss and for the want of any other entertainment, prisoner-watching. Before long, I spotted a weary Kriabal making his way into the chamber to collect his rations. The poor bastard looked knackered. Had I known that no one had thought to bring him something to eat, I’d have done so myself. Or, you know, sent my slave to do it.

As he attempted to negotiate a portion for his pet, I considered approaching him with the offer of an alliance. The dwarf was no longer in a position to protest, after all, and it would be good to have a bit more first-hand experience to guide us, not to mention another ally with decent perception. Alas, that wouldn’t help the plan to join Clan Kronan: we needed membership, not contractor status. Perhaps it was best not to be lumped in with the put-out warlock just yet. Besides, I no longer needed the warlock’s perception, not now that I had Samusk on such a short leash.

Hmmm, that reminds me…

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Really? That’s a first,” spat the dwarf. “Develop a new skill, did you?”

“Funny. And as a matter of fact, yes, I did. Perception.”

I took a small moment to savor the horrified look on Samusk’s face, as realization began to set in that he may already be on his way to becoming obsolete.

“Good, eh?” I added with smug satisfaction.

“Well, um, yes, but ah…”

I could almost hear the wheels turning in his furry head as he struggled to compensate for this unexpected development.

“Ye do understand, developin’ the skill is by far the easiest part. The next few levels will be much more difficult to grind. And might I add, completely unnecessary. My own perception is currently sitting at level 5, and it’ll be a long time before ye grind the skill that level, if ever. Still, good thing I’m here so ye don’t need to waste time on that tiresome endeavor, eh?”

The question was tinged with fear, but dammit, the sneaky dwarf who asked it had a point. My deadline to kill the Dungeon Warden could be up before I even got anywhere close to level 6, Samusk wasn’t even that high. And even if I did somehow make it, my perception-raising cheat, while effective, relied heavily on my maintaining a cap on my other stats. That did not go hand in hand with power-levelling my combat abilities.

A smile formed on the dwarf’s face. My expression probably said it all: I still needed him. But then a thought hit me like a giant badly-named barbarian.

Of course, the solution is so fucking obvious. Why didn’t I see it before?

“Tell me, Samusk. Have you met warden, yet?”

“What. Don’t be ridiculous, lad. He’s the dungeon’s most powerful entity. I hardly have him on bloody speed-dial, do I?”

Ok good. He hasn’t had his ‘new prisoner’ meeting, yet. And that means we might still have time to grind his perception one more level beforehand, and have him figure out the little bastard’s weaknesses for me.

“I might still need your skills after all…” I admitted.

“Bingo, well done,” he replied with a slow clap. “I knew ye’d figure that out sooner or later. Good to see yer not just a pretty face. Especially since it’s so badly swollen most of the time.”

The dwarf was starting to piss me off. Again. I was about to order him to punch himself in the face when one of the (many) parties responsible for that often-swollen face reappeared, bellowing threats to anyone who was prepared to listen. Tiny. He was demanding food for his morning’s work and had quickly regained the attention of the foreman’s. Fuck me. Was the colossal warrior an absolute idiot? He had to be level 1, by now, yet he was still picking fights at every possible opportunity. Still, television was a thing of the past, now, so what happened next would make for good entertainment, if nothing else…

Grom made to address Tiny’s concerns via the medium of an aggressively brandished brick, but was distracted by a frantic cry from behind us. Samusk spat out his food and got to his feet, turning to face the commotion.

“What the hell is all that damned racket?” the dwarf asked.

“Holy shit, not again,” I gasped, tossing aside my own food. I knew the sound all too well, as the cries of panic were joined by the unmistakable crackle of mana. Wands were being charged with arcane energy, and they were all firmly pointed at the same tunnel that had spawned the hellhound.

By now others were noticing the commotion and beginning to rise to their feet. Even the NPC’s were getting into defensive stances, and that was never a good sign. Soon, every eye in the room was staring in the direction of the gateway to the front line.

“Another hellhound?” I whispered.

“Nothin’ so puny,” replied Samusk. Look at the apprentices on either side of the entrance. They’re bloody shittin’ themselves.”

I did so, and immediately understood what he meant. They were hard at work pushing more and more mana into their wands, charging up attacks of much greater magnitude than earlier. One apprentice in particular looked like he was about to have a damn panic attack. Whatever was preparing to exit that tunnel, one thing remained obvious: it was of a lot more concern than a runaway hellhound.

Suddenly, something did leave the tunnel. Without warning a dwarf ran screaming from the shadows and into the chamber, his avatar battered and bleeding.

“Take akkkk!!!!”

The poor bastard didn’t even get the chance to finish off his warning, as the nervous apprentice unleashed a fireball, drenching the dwarf in arcane flame. The dwarf screamed, rolling on the ground in a futile attempt to extinguish the DOT attack. A couple of prisoners rushed to help but there was nothing they could do. The magical flame was consuming the player as if he were little more than kindling. He must have been in agony.

Just as suddenly (and as if that wasn’t enough for the poor burning sod) a bluish grey tendril shot from the darkness, its spiked tips piercing the back of the runaway dwarfs avatar. They hoisted him from the ground for a split second before snapping back like a bungee cord, dragging him back to the crushing darkness of the corridor.

The lair fell silent, as we all looked upon each other with the same dread expression. Fear.

Something was coming. Something big…

The kind of something boss lairs are made for...