Chapter 36: Stage one

Chapter 36: Stage one

After two days of watching, Mason had seen enough. The town sent one and maybe two groups of raiders, one that came back within half a day, the other likely gone for longer. Both had now returned. A final group patrolled the town’s borders and nearby terrain, and each group consisted of at least four players, sometimes a civilian or two.

Kiaan had found Mason at the end of the second day, moving close enough to be detected then stopping until Mason nodded him forward.

“Greetings, patron,” he’d whispered. “I found one of the raider groups, and they had knowledge of your brother. They say he’s inside.”

Mason nodded, flooded with relief.Vissit novelbin(.)c.om for updates

“You know their leader. Could I negotiate for my brother?”

Kiaan considered this, then frowned. “You sent your woman inside?”

“I did.”

“He will never give her up for any reason. And he will hold your brother hostage to make you do as he wishes.”

Mason nodded, slightly annoyed, watching the group of raiders as they picked their way through the trees. They moved offensively slowly; they chatted and joked and whistled, and paid about as much attention to their surroundings as teenagers on their phones. In short, they were very powerful, or in a great deal of mortal peril.

“You can tell what tier they’re in, correct?” he whispered to his civilian scout as they watched. “How do they compare to me?

Kiaan frowned. “It’s difficult to say.”

“Why?”

“They are mid-tier, which means around half the world’s players are stronger, half weaker, according to the ranking. You are in the top.” Here he shrugged. “But how does a mid tier player compare to a top tier player in power? I cannot say.”

Mason nodded. This made sense, not that it made any difference. Blake was in there against his will, almost certainly, his friends all likely dead. He’d survived somehow because...because he was Blake, and he’d had a horseshoe up his ass from birth. But he wouldn’t have taken the deaths of his friends lightly, and he’d only be living with their killers because he had no choice.

Mason would kill them just for that. He would die for his brother, and he’d certainly kill for Haley, who he’d now put in their clutches. “The die is cast,” he grinned, thinking again of something Blake would say, not actually knowing what it was from. Probably something to do with role playing games.

So he followed the next group of raiders, watching, and waiting. He let them go and returned to Nassau, then watched the second group of raiders leave, joking and calling to each other as they went.

The charger hit trap number two. He cried out and stumbled as thorns wrapped around his leg like a chain, and dropped his movement to a crawl. Mason ran straight past him. He activated Aspect of the Cheetah, dashing at full speed for the older runner. The walls were close, and he didn’t have much time. He loosed another arrow but it flew wide. He slowed for another shot, but this one deflected off some kind of translucent shield surrounding the man.

“I’ll kill you, bastard!” yelled the still crippled patroller behind him. Mason continued to ignore him, slinging his bow around his neck as he ran without pause.

Branches flew past him in a blur, and he leapt a fallen log as he bent forward still in a sprint, legs pumping with the heat of the chase. He caught the runner a dozen steps from the wall.

“We’re under attack!” the older man shouted, waving his arms at a guard raised on some kind of tower on the inside of the town. He should have kept running.

Mason dove into his back with both weapons poised like spears. He struck, smashing through the shield, both blades sinking into flesh. The man crumpled and they went down in a tumbling heap, Mason’s knife pulled out and stabbing before his opponent could scream.

[Player killed. Experience awarded.]

The tower guard had obviously heard something but still wasn’t sure what. He leaned out over the wall with narrow eyes, looking out further, seeming not to realize the violence had happened so close. Mason sat atop the corpse and didn’t move. As the guard was pulling back, his eyes drooped slightly back into relaxation. Then he finally looked down, and met Mason’s eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Mason rolled to his feet, unslung his bow in one swift motion, and shot.

The young guard turned, just slightly, but enough to save his life. The arrow raked his cheek, spraying blood before he flung himself away from the open. Mason turned and ran.

He found the still crippled, limping patroller—who was still angrily threatening with every hobbled step—and calmly put three arrows into his chest.

[Player killed. Experience awarded.]

Mason sighed, quickly checking the dead men’s pockets (nothing useful), then their weapons (unimpressive), before turning towards the raiders’ paths, and breaking into a run. He had a lot of ground to cover. Sometimes the raiders seemed to change their patterns and paths, so he couldn’t be exactly sure which way they’d go. He had to hope Kiann would stay on top of them and leave him markers to follow. And that Nassau didn’t or couldn’t warn either of them in time, or have enough players left to come out in much force. But he cleared his mind, and focused on his footsteps, and the trees.

The patrollers were down. The first stage was complete. But he still had a job to do.

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