The NPCs may have lacked patience, but one thing they didn’t lack was accuracy. Mana-infused spears arced through the air to meet our hulking enemy while simultaneously, five tendrils lashed out to greet the weapon’s owners, tearing through their lightly armored bodies and halving their numbers in the blink of an eye. The A.I.’s impatience had cost them dearly, but all ten spears had found their target regardless, some even burrowing past the creature’s thick hide via the tender access point of the beast’s countless eye sockets. The cumulative effect of the volley of mana-tipped weapons was more than welcome: it had shaved 160HP from the land shark’s impressive reserve.

Only 840HP to go, then, eh? Noooo problem.

The boss’s howl echoed through the chamber, intermingled with the death-cries of the five nameless guards. Their loss seemed unjustified in comparison to the amount of damage dealt, but that was only half of the driven puppet’s strategy. Those who had fallen had done so to give the other five a chance of reaching their foe in one piece. Before the bone-tipped tentacles could shrug off their prey, recoil and strike again, the fallen’s unfeeling colleagues had already pushed on, giving their lifeless brothers nary a second glance as they raised held up swords forged of pure mana and continued the seemingly futile charge, with Grom and the others not far behind them.

You savvy prick, I thought to myself, now eyeing our untrustworthy leader. You could have ordered us to join the NPCs the very moment they charged. But you held back long enough to make sure they became the first wave, didn’t you?

The tentacles moved to intercept ‘Grom’s Guerrillas’, bridging the gap between the two waves of fighters with haste. But they were laden with both the remains of the NPC guards, and a growing layer of ice that I could only suspect was the warlock’s doing. Lacking the momentum of the earlier projectile attack the beast’s strikes were easily parried by my war-party. Emboldened, they charged on, joining the swarm of bodies that had now descended upon the left flank of the lumbering colossus.

A strategy was quickly formed: the guards, Grom and Al_Catraz were fighting off the lashing tendrils, while maintaining a defensive ring around Tiny and Kraitos, freeing the axe-wielding warriors to hack at the base of the beast’s powerful limbs like a pair of cosplaying lumberjacks. Kriabal continued to provide support from the sidelines, encasing the tentacles in blocks of ice that served to weigh them down, further slowing the beasts attempts to fight back.

Thanks to Kriabal the attacking appendages now lacked the power they’d exhibited when they’d been launched like projectiles, but with their bone tips still in play, they were more than lethal. One thing quickly became obvious: the beast was distracted. And that was my cue to act. I reactivated my war-party notifications and made a dash for the wounded raid party, cursing as I learned that one of the web-like tendrils was still extended in my direction. Awakened by my approach, it began thrashing from side to side, blocking my path.

Shit. It may not have the striking force it had earlier, but that tip is sharp, and there’s no way a puny dagger will deflect it. If only I still had my shield.

That was when I had an idea. Yes, I had nothing to deflect it. But perhaps I could still distract it.

“Samusk, get your hairy ass over here,” I bellowed, my voice echoing across the vast chamber. “And hurry up about it.”

Unable to fight my command the dwarf obliged, leaving the relative safety of the huddled zeros to race to my side. As he did so, a status message reminded me that time was increasingly of the essence.

-[ User: Al_Catraz has died. Swordsmen remaining in your war-party: 1. ]-

Squinting in the direction of the nine-on-one battle (now eight-on-one, I lamented) I learned that the swords-noob had been impaled through the eye-socket by one of the land shark’s bone-tipped tentacles, a gruesome end that I immediately resolved to personally avoid at all costs.

That pledge made, I ordered the dwarf to distract the tentacle that now blocked my own path. This led to a tirade of swearing and name-calling that I promptly dismissed. The little git was already a zero, I argued. What possible harm could come from using him as bait. I told him exactly that and after reminding him that he now had extra resilience (one whole points worth), I ordered him to lead the lingering limb as far from me as possible. After one final suggestion that my mother did inappropriate things with orcs around the back of mount Mordor, the dwarf begrudgingly obliged. The bait was promptly taken, and the flailing limb began its pursuit.

Happy to have finally found a use for the dwarf’s master-level skill when it came to running away from things, I broke into a sprint of my own. I was almost at the raid party when a bloodied hybrid moved to intercept me.

Shit, I might just be able to take the bastard down, it looks pretty fucked after the earlier battle. But I don’t have the time. Samusk’s distraction won’t last long, and those bodies will rot any minute, taking their weapons with them.

As it turned out, I hadn’t been the only one waiting for an opportunity to sneak past the thrashing limb. Two figures rushed past me, and the hybrid was tackled to the ground by the impressive bulk of the remaining half-orcs.

Fuck, you guys are really making a habit of saving my ass. Not that I’m complaining…

Taking advantage of the distraction that was now being provided by Samusk, they began to drag their allocated opponent from the boss’s reach, clearing my way reach the remains of the decimated raid party. And not a moment too soon…

-[ Your slave ‘Samusk’ has died. Time until respawn: Five minutes. ]-

Oops.

I turned to see Samusk’s lifeless avatar being pinned to the ground by the bone-tipped tentacle, his much-lauded brains now spilled across the dungeon floor for all to see. And I have to admit, I felt a little guilty. But only a little.

Try not to think of it as sending him to his premature death, I told myself. Think of it as sending him to his nice cozy respawn point back in our cell…

I did have one concern over my slave’s death, though. The limb that slaughtered him would inevitably be on the hunt for a new target. Racing to the raid party, I dove behind the pile of bodies, comically peering over them to check for possible threats to my noobish ass. To my relief, the writhing limb was trying to assist the hybrid, who was on the receiving end of a two-on-one beating. Its reach wasn’t quite up to the task, but it was more than occupied by the attempt.

As my gaze followed the limb’s snaking form back to its source, I took solace in the fact that the other four tentacles were also occupied. In fact, one had been severed completely. The other three flailed madly as my war-party and the NPCs parried the strikes using empowered weapons and blades of pure mana, buying our axe-men time to move onto severing the next. I also noted, however, that the NPC’s had taken the brunt of the damage thus far, and that despite their high HP, two were already dead, their bodies slumped next to the bloodied corpse of Al-Catraz.

Dead or alive, they were doing their part, so it was time for me to do mine. I checked the amazon for signs of life, and yes, she was still breathing. This was despite a nasty looking wound that would probably have killed a noob like me. But then she was the female equivalent of the barbarian, so her natural resilience probably dwarfed even my own. My attempts to communicate drew only slurred mumbles, confirming that the warrior was dazed. Or possibly drunk. (if it was the latter, I envied her… I’d kill for some prison hooch, right about now.)

The other three barbarians had not been not so lucky. Their vital organs had been ripped open by the bone-tipped tentacles and their eyes were cold and vacant. Admittedly, where most would see three fallen heroes, cut down in their prime, all I saw before me were three scantily clad loot crates. Oh, and a wizard, too. He would be worth checking for potions, elixirs, and other magically charged items. But for now, that didn’t concern me. What I needed more than anything, was a weapon.

Focusing on the muscular pile of corpses before me, I realized that I could call up all four of their inventories simultaneously. Perhaps this was the benefit of being a level 2 thief and not just a bog-standard looter of the dead, I pondered. Faced with the haul of raid-party level weaponry, I was like a kid in a candy shop. (Albeit a candy shop filled with all manner of sharp deadly murder-implements. Which are usually the best kind, admittedly.)

Their ‘deceased’ status made robbing them ridiculously easy, but as I attempted to empty their inventories into my own, I realized that I had a serious limitation. Despite my increased strength, I still had a noob’s carrying capacity.

Dammit!

Where the higher-level warriors had multiple carrying slots, I had only four. Technically my hands should have counted as two extra ‘slots’, but if I was going to trail Nyx off the battlefield, I would need to leave both hands free. Add the fact that some weapons took up two or more slots due to their excessive size, and my options were surprisingly limited. There was no question about it: I was going to have to be very selective about what I claimed.

To my further ire, I saw a complete and utter lack of powerful, playing field levelling artefacts that might help blow that ugly thing off the face of the earth.

My priority was the acquisition of a sword, so I immediately discarded the many battle-axes on offer and the apprentice’s wand, understanding that they would be an ill fit for my swordsman avatar. This left me with two weapons to choose from. Both swords were much less refined looking than my swordsman-class weapon had been, one being embellished with the standard gaudy skull, the other looking almost organic in its construction. It was the latter that really caught my eye. This, I concluded, was a berserker class sword. Admittedly, berserker class seemed to translate into ‘forged by a blind blacksmith after a few pints’… its edges were crooked, and it had strange symbols scratched into the blade like some kind of arcane graffiti. It was reassuringly weighty, though.

-[ Acquired: Barbarian’s Arcane Blade. This is part of a three-item set. Forged by T’arus, a mighty warrior possessing both wizard and barbarian skill sets. This is an epic class item. T’arus became lost in these dungeons’ centuries ago, and his items are extremely rare. The sword doubles the user’s armed combat skill, and also adds one extra point of resilience. This item also doubles the output of all channeled mana. Item durability 85/100. ]-

Wowsa. Now that’s a nice boost. Although I still know fuck all about wielding mana. I wonder if the other blade would be better suited to my limitations?

-[ Acquired: Blade of Swiftness. This is part of a two-item set. Rumored to be empowered by Mercury himself, this item is truly a gift from the gods. This is an epic class item. The sword doubles the user’s speed and accuracy, and also adds one extra point of agility. This item adds 10% to the output of all channeled mana. Item durability 92/100. ]-

Damn, which do I choose? Strength, or speed? I already have strength in spades, and the agility would be a good boost. But if that thing’s hide is as tough as they say, I might need all the damage-dealing potential I can get.

A quick look through my decomposing loot chests had also produced healing potions, a couple of ‘common’ level shields, and various other elixirs. With useful items like that on offer, I couldn’t possibly justify pocketing both. Yep, that carrying limit was definitely a pain in the ass stat that I really needed to level up. And as usual, I was finding out at the worst possible time. So, with only one sword and two items worth of carrying space, and an opponent who’d be demanding that I put whatever I grabbed to use almost immediately, I needed to make a decision, and fast.

t/ake arc.a/ne b/ad.e

What? Who’s there?

t/aaake i/t. Stor/e your man.a//

What the hell? Was the damn glitching sword talking to me? And did it want me to feed it? I checked my mana reserve. Again, it was lower than I’d expected. Then right before my eyes, it dropped from 17 points to 16.

You are dropping, I gasped.

-puuus/h it inttto sw000rd///b444 go.ne

…echoed the glitching message. I demanded answers of it, but no further information came.

With nothing else to guide me, tossed the Blade of Swiftness (in the hope that separating it from its owner would stop it from vanishing with him) and began to examine the arcane blade’s stats. In doing so, I realized that the weapon had its own mana count, next to the durability stat.

How did I not see this before? Is this my perception stat at play?

The counter was at 0/300. Yup, it was waiting to be filled up like a fancy sports car with an empty petrol tank. The voice said that I needed to push the substance into my sword. Could I simply will my mana into the blade? Well, there was only one way to find out. With Grom’s Guerrillas and the few remaining NPCs keeping the creature off my back, I wouldn’t get a better chance to try.

I grasped the sword, then concentrated on transferring the stat across. A warmth ran down my arm, and for the briefest of moments, the sword glowed, its runes infused with energy. My mana count fell to zero, but the swords mana stat leapt up by 16 points.

Bingo. And it made perfect sense. Unlike mages, barbarians had no magical acumen. Obviously, they needed to use tools like this one to store their mana, lest it fades away. I wasn’t sure yet if the same was true of swordsmen, but we were both blade class, so I figured there were bound to be similarities.

Fired up by my new discovery, I turned to the supply of mana potions. There were six to be claimed from the three corpses, and each claimed to be worth a total of 50 MP. I considered downing all of them, reasoning that there was no sense in filling my inventory with items that could be combined with my stomach (and ultimately my sword). But what if Kriabal needed a mana boost in the heat of battle? And wouldn’t Tiny’s mana-doubling axe benefit just as much as I could, perhaps even more so? There were health potions to be harvested too, and so little space to carry them. Decisions, decisions.

That was when I spied that the corpse named Craynor also had a useful item outside of his inventory: a sword sheath. And to my relief, it wasn’t soul-bound like the earlier barbarian’s bracers. Result. This meant that I could save two slots by draping the impressive blade across my back, freeing up my arms for rescue and my inventory for other items. And then a further thought occurred… back during the earlier raid, how did the tank carry the cryo-grenade and the healing potion that I’d shamelessly stolen from him without placing it in his inventory?

My smile grew as I swopped the barbarian’s belt and my own, gaining two much-needed carry slots. I hung a mana potion from each and felt incredibly smug.

This should put some pep in Tiny’s axe.

I give the Amazon on a healing potion from her friend’s supply, pouring it down her lips and taking care not to waste a drop. Then I pocketed the other two, leaving me with two of my original slots. I followed this by stealing a barbarian’s bracers for an impressive defense boost of +4. Ecstatic that wearing the powerful items didn’t affect my inventory space, I finished off by pocketing two more mana potions, drinking the other two and channeling the energy into my blade before sheathing it. It dawned on me that I no longer had space for my trophy of the rogue’s downfall: the assassin’s dagger. But then it dawned on me: perhaps I didn’t need to discard it. I switched it for the basic dagger held in my ankle strap, and to my relief, the item fitted.

Yes! In my two days here, I’d never felt so powerful. I’d gone from the Emperor of Noobs, to the Noob-inator.

With that I cursed the hit my rep took for robbing the dead, consoled myself with the fact that stealing such a powerful sword had given me a massive boost to my thievery skill (one whole level), then set about hoisting the dazed general with the intention of dragging her to the safety of the chamber’s outskirts. What a haul. That had been a worthwhile shopping trip, and no mistake. Now I just needed to hold onto it.

I watched from behind the corpses, awaiting my chance to slip by without the enemy’s notice. Suddenly, the bodies I’d callously raided crumbled to dust, claimed by the game’s respawn engine. Leaving me completely without cover.

Out in the open and holding the bait, I was a sitting duck. The creature turned its tendril from the battling half-orcs, and the bone-tipped limb came hurtling toward me. Worse, the distance between us was giving it momentum. Flight was no longer an option, not with my heavily-armored potential employer in my arms.

It was time for me to fight, or die.