"21,000 gold for a bottle of water?" Zach yelled at the wandering NPC. His anger and disappointnt were explosive, but since he was positive this one couldn't understand or feel anything, he knew it was safe to let the bearded old man have it.
This…this evil, opportunistic son of a bitch! This "Wandering Water rchant." That was his na, too. For real. His actual, Gods-given na was "Wandering Water rchant." If he had a birth certificate, that was the na that would be on it.
HP
400,000/400,000
Na
Wandering Water rchant
Level
55
It had been three hours since Zach had recovered his belongings, which ant it had also been three hours since he'd rehydrated himself by wasting two of his stones. And in just that ti, he had already beco dehydrated again as he dodged mobs and traveled as far as he could, which in this case, was only another fifty miles, which ant he still had another 4,912 to go.
How am I going to survive this?
The beginning of a headache was forming. This, he knew, would worsen. And if he didn't deal with it quickly, he'd end up having to waste even more stones.
"My water is always ice cold," the rchant taunted. "Buy my water, adventurer. I'm the Wandering Water rchant."
Zach had been lying on his back on a rock, which supported his back better than the sand did. He'd been taking a badly needed break. And that was when this grey-bearded NPC had strolled on over to him. It'd spooked Zach at first, but upon seeing the white lettering of his na, Zach realized he was a neutral NPC, not an enemy.
But he might as well have been, because in so ways, he was even worse than an enemy. He was a price gouger!
Why would anyone in their right mind think they could charge 21000g for a single bottle of water? Zach didn't care if this was the middle of the desert. He'd rather lie right here on this rock and die than give 21k to a wandering rchant for just one bottle.
Has this…happened before?
A weird, almost crippling feeling of déjà vu ca over him, but it was short-lived. Zach, whose throat had gone so dry he could barely speak, began thinking about just how nice it would be to have ice-cold water pouring down his throat. This Gods-be-damned water rchant was going to get him, wasn't he? He was going to pay 21k for water.
"All right, fine," he croaked, his throat dry, his voice raspy.
He got up again and moved over to the rchant. A shopping window opened up. But it was like the one at Muskie's or Landy's. Zach had only glanced at it for a brief second before closing it imdiately in outrage at the price. But now that he gave it another look over, he realized that, in addition to overcharging for water by around 21-thousand percent, there was also an insulting 3-per-custor limitation, too.
Item
Quantity (Per Custor)
Price
Bottled Water, Cold
3
21,000G
Zach bought all three. Then he imdiately placed them on his chest, forehead, and neck in that order. "Ahhhhh," he moaned. "That feels so good. I an, not 21,000G good, but still pretty good." He popped one of the bottles open and downed it. Then he drank the second. And then the third.
Instinctually, he thought of rationing it, but he recalled a news story from a few years ago about a hiker who had died of dehydration with water still in his bottle. The experts then said that rationing water doesn't actually help stave off death; if anything, it decreases your ability to think clearly and make rational decisions. And that anyone stranded should drink until they were no longer thirsty.
Well, three bottles later, and Zach was still thirsty. But at least it had been as cold as promised. And now, as he watched the NPC walk off into the desert, where the evening sun was beginning to set, he whispered to himself, "If you go that way, you'll get…"
Three hostile scorpions, each the size of a cow, jumped on top of the NPC, and Zach laughed aloud and pointed to him as he was ripped to shreds. "Haha! Serves you right, swindler! Get him, scorpions. Get him!"
"Oh, no! My water!" the NPC cried as he vanished into thin air upon hitting 0HP. Even as he was almost gone, he continued to cry out one last ti as he faded away. "My…water…"
The giant scorpions then coincidentally began moving in Zach's direction, and Zach took this as a hint that it was probably a good idea to move on. Clad in his navy-blue mage armor, with his icy rapier tucked by his side, he decided to get a move on. And no, the rapier was not cold to the touch. That was the first thing Zach thought of. That wasn't all he thought of, too.
With nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other and force himself to trek through this dangerous heat and endless desert, Zach had allowed his mind to wander, and in doing so, he started wondering about things. Like, take those red-haired Vixen Portal Commanders. They had that crowd-control attack that completely encased you in freezing-cold ice for a bunch of seconds. If he still had one of those cards, and he ordered it to attack him, would he be able to encase himself in that ice and sort of just "enjoy" it? He could imdiately call it off right after he'd been caught in the spell. And if the mob opened with one of its icicles, he could dodge it.
That might've actually worked, Zach thought.
It was probably the heat getting to his brain, but Gods, if he still had one of those cards, he would absolutely have it encase his entire body in ice. That would feel divine. Oh, how he wished he could be hit by that attack right now. Hell, even if he got run through by a few icicles, his constitution was high enough now that he could probably handle it with passive HP regeneration. And look: Zach was no stranger to mutilation, as awful as that was to say. He'd had limbs chopped off, holes in his body, etc. This heat? Way worse than a little skewering.
What's wrong with ?
The more Zach trekked through this hellish desert, the crazier the things he began to think. It was just too hot. He prayed for cold. He actually prayed for the cold.
And then the sun set—and his wish was granted. Oh, boy, it sure was.
Now, as Zach sat on the sand and shivered with his arms folded over his chest and his teeth chattering, he swore he would do anything if only it could get just a little bit warr. It was ridiculously cold out here. What in the fuck was going on?
His first full day on Albion-4 had co to a close. 9 PM struck—the ti when the city would be sealed off—and within just 15 minutes of the sun's disappearance, the temperature dropped like a boulder thrown off the top of a skyscraper. It wasn't gradual. It wasn't a nice little "cooldown" that eventually beca a bit too cold. No, it was burning and then all of a sudden it was freezing. Maybe, at absolute best, one could say there was like a five-minute window of brief comfort. But even that would be charitable.
"Buh-vuh-vuh," Zach shivered. "Buh-vuh-vuh. Buh-vuh-vuh. Cold."
He drew his rapier and wondered if he could use Fla Arrow II to start a fire. But there was nothing flammable here. It was all just sand. Sand and wind. And each ti the wind blew, it reminded him of when he'd fought against Olivir's zombies in that vampire war on Archian Pri. Only, this was even colder than that. This was so cold that he began digging himself a hole in the sand just so he had sothing close to a blanket. But it barely helped.
And what were all those noises?
"AWHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cried so creature or another.
As the light level dropped, it eventually beca not just dark, but perfectly dark. To the extent that not even the slightest hint of light could be seen anywhere. And indeed, it was only now that Zach realized this planet had no moon. So, there wasn't even moonlight. There was just complete, total darkness.
Well, all except for these tiny little red dots way in the distance. The eyes of sothing—or many things. They were moving around. And they appeared to be responsible for whatever had made that noise.
"AWHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
I thought it was the city that beca extra dangerous at night. They said nothing about the desert.
Zach doubted he would be able to sleep. It was so Gods-be-damned cold. He had no idea if this area was safe. Technically, this entire area—called Marching Side-Sands—was red, and thus, it was all hostile. But mobs didn't quite spawn everywhere, and this little spot had been clear when he'd picked it. Pulling up his map, he saw that it was now 9:30. He wished ti would speed up.
The good news, however, was that he was no longer slowly dehydrating. The bad news was that he felt ravenously hungry after having basically no appetite the entire day. His stomach growled, calling to him, but he had no food with which to answer it.
People can survive weeks or months without food, he thought. It's a lack of water that'll kill you.
Although this was only a small comfort to him, it was at least so comfort. He knew that, if anything did end up killing him out here, it wouldn't be hunger. He also knew that the cold was rely uncomfortable and wasn't likely to damage his body in the way heat could.
Maybe my other armor set is better for cold weather.
Zach swapped as quickly as he could—and then he changed back imdiately, as the plate armor made him feel even colder than if he were naked.
Back in his mage gear, he sat around on the sand, wondering what to do. He knew he couldn't sleep. He knew he couldn't go anywhere or do anything without risking getting attacked by a mob in total darkness. And one of the things he was starting to realize about the mobs on Albion-4 was that they hit way, way harder than mobs on Galterra.
HP-wise, he could still hurt them the sa. If sothing of an equal level and HP took 3 swings of a weapon to kill on Galterra, then it would probably take 3 swings on Albion-4. Or at least that had seed to be the case from the very limited amount of combat he had done. But, on the other hand, the damage output of the shit on this world was off the charts. He still couldn't believe a tiny little snake had blown him to smithereens.
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And so of them can also use CC, he thought.
Right. While evading threats in the desert, he'd noticed several mobs attempt to root, stun, slow, sleep, or charm him. It was bad enough bosses could do that crap now, but even regular mobs? That was just twisted. Diabolical!
Even a mob that I can tear apart in one hit is a threat if it puts to sleep or stuns .
Digging a bit deeper into the sand, he packed it over himself and then stared up at the stars in the night sky. He wondered if any of them belonged to Galterra. He wondered what Kal and Grundor were up to. He wondered a lot of things, his mind having nothing to do now but roam.
"Gods, how long is it going to take before it's morning again? Am I just supposed to lie here for 8 hours?"
He pulled up his map. Not for any reason. Just because.
Aimlessly, he began opening and closing various screens, such as his stats, his abilities, and the new "friends list," of which he had zero contacts. He was playing with the system screens like it was his cell phone back at ho. Just scrolling through nothing and without any reason. But eventually, he got tired of it and closed everything except the map screen, where he stared at the ti on it. It was still only 9:45. This was going to be a long night.
"AWHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cried whatever mobs those were way out in the distance. Or hopefully it was far in the distance. His head was becoming kind of…
He yawned.
Zach obviously couldn't sleep. He just wasn't tired. Despite the long day. Despite the fact that he'd left Galterra at 3 PM and showed up here at 7 AM. Despite all of that, he just plain wasn't tired. He missed his friends. He missed Kalana. He even missed those villagers. He was feeling super lonely.
And he wasn't tired.
He blinked.
He planned to stay up all night. Also—and this was important—he could fly now. Actually, he always could fly. That was why he was flying over the desert. He landed in Angelica's. Angelica was now a bear. She passed him a cherry cola. He thanked her. Then he began dancing with the other adventurers. Kalana was there, and shockingly, so was his mother. He asked her why she was at Angelica's because he missed her so bad. She never should've died—and she hadn't, because there she was, smiling at him. He hadn't seen her in so long that he'd forgotten her face, but now, he rembered it. How could he have ever forgotten?
"Mom," he said, feeling like a little boy, whimpering again. "You don't know how much I've missed you."
"I missed you too, Zach. But didn't I always tell you not to suffocate to death under sand?"
"Huh?"
What's that feeling on my face?
The adventurers began laughing at him and saying he was going to suffocate to death under the sand. For so reason, Zach was now only two feet tall, and they were ten feet. They kept telling him he was suffocating under the sand. And to get his ass up before he died.
And now, it was so dark. Everyone was gone, and he felt a great pressure on him. A weight.
Zach's eyes popped open. Fear exploded in his chest. Where was he? What was happening?
He was buried: completely buried. And he was confused, too. He didn't know what was going on or why it was happening. Montarily, he forgot where he even was. Wasn't he just in Angelica's? Or sowhere else? Was he dreaming?
He yelped as a burst of confusion, disorientation, and an ache in his neck greeted him from seemingly out of nowhere. He felt trapped. Encased. He'd sohow ended up buried. Deep. Under so much sand, perhaps twenty feet of it. And he couldn't breathe. It was in his lungs, in his face, in his hair.
Gods, he was dying! He had to get it off!
He thrust out both his palms with all his strength, and then, right before his eyes, several tons of sand were blown away from him with such trendous force that it was sent hurtling up into the sky and out of sight. Tons upon tons of it.
He was now lying in a hole deep down in the sand. A hole that, from the edges, was already starting to fill in and would trap him again if he did not get out of it. He coughed several tis, and then his coughs turned into vomiting as he puked up a mixture of bile and desert.
Crawling up to his feet, he bent his knees, jumped, and then rose up and out. He landed a few monts later nearby. And yet, even still, he could see so of the sand streaking across the horizon from his frantic, double-pald strike.
What the hell just happened?
It was now bright outside: hot and burning. His map was still open, and it indicated that the ti was 8:42 in the morning.
"Did I actually fall asleep?"
He rubbed his eyes, which were crusty. Then he chuckled as his terror dulled sowhat. "I must've passed right out. Wow. I didn't think I was even tired."
Glancing over his shoulder, he was transfixed by how fast such a deep, twenty-foot hole managed to fill itself back in. In just a few seconds, it had packed itself over completely. And now, with the morning sun raging above him, Zach realized there was nothing to do but shrug it all off and keep going.
Which was what he did.
And so began his second day on Albion-4. With his map kept open and his waypoint set, he resud his seemingly impossible trek across the planet and towards a city that was supposedly so large that not even the people who lived here knew most of what was inside of it. The idea of discovering sothing amazing or rare actually gave him a little burst of energy, which was sothing he desperately needed right about now.
The sand that had gotten into his throat, though vomited out, had left him feeling dehydrated. But things were only about to get worse. It wasn't even 9 yet, and already, the temperature was 140.2 degrees according to his map. That was sweltering. Yet even that was nothing compared to how bad it was going to get in another hour from now. Gods, if only it could stay at 140.2. That sure would be great.
Just have to deal with it, Zach thought. It is what it is.
With his arms hanging by his sides, his back arched forward, and the muscles in his face practically drooping, Zach dragged his feet and walked awkwardly along the sand. It was absolute torture here. Every second of every day: torture.
"And I still have so many miles to go," he grumbled. "I've still got like—ahhhhh!"
Zach fell forward onto his knees as a ripping, searing pain ca from his right calf. Looking behind him, he saw that an arrow was now jutting out of his flesh, having pierced the cloth armor. "What just shot ? Gods damn it all!"
He grabbed the arrow and yanked it out. Blood began spurting out of the wound and getting all over the sand. A lot of it.
That's going to be a red stone for sure, he thought, annoyed.
Looking behind him, he searched for any sign of his attacker, but he saw nothing at all. In fact, the only mob in his view was so weird, floating, and ball-shaped creature the size of an inflated party balloon called a "Grubblet." It was bright red in color, had no hands or feet, and had a goofy-looking pair of eyes with bushy eyebrows, and a mouth with an equally strange mustache.
HP
1,225,000/1,225,000
Na
Grubblet
Level
77
Zach continued to dart his eyes around to find the source of the arrow—of the archer who shot him as his open wound continued to pour blood on the sand. "Where is it?" he growled. "What the hell hit ?"
It was the Grubblet.
The creature opened its mouth, and from within its dark throat, another arrow erged, speeding across the sand and striking Zach right in the stomach. It not only went right through his armor and into his guts, but it pushed him back so that he fell onto his back on the sand, crying out in pain.
"It was the Grubblet!" he shouted out. "Oweee, that's such…gahh!"
In agony, and still on his back, Zach flipped himself onto his stomach, which made him groan as it pushed the arrow in deeper. Then he drew his rapier, and he activated the ability on his Frozen Blade of the Mystics, which had a range of 200 and a cooldown of five minutes. The mob attacking him was only around 100 feet away, so hitting it was not a problem. The mont of activation, a small white cloud—almost like a breeze—blew over the mob, and now, there was a down arrow.
The ability makes it take 200% ice damage for 15 seconds.
Pointing his rapier at the arrow-shooting, weird-faced bastard, Zach activated Ice Spear III, which imdiately caused him to pant and sweat. As a Moderate-High exertion ability, it did not co cheap.
"Val en Fraust Spir!" he shouted out.
From three points around the mob: back, left, and right, a trio of ice-made spears materialized in the air. All three then converged at once, and all three struck for piercing damage. In his mage gear, with a bit lower strength, the mob was only hit for around 35k to 40k damage per spear. But following this, each spear then detonated into a thin cloud of ice, and now, the real damage ca in.
375,200
401,331
392,221
"Mrroooooo," the Grubblet cried out with a deep voice as it fell over onto the sand and then went up into smoke. By the ti the smoke cleared, the creature was gone.
392,500xp
To Next Level
901,911/5,555,000
Zach rolled over onto his back, dropped his rapier, and then yanked the second arrow out of his belly since it did not even have the decency to disappear along with the mob. This resulted in more spurts of blood. Then, while on his back, he opened his inventory and selected…oh, Gods, he didn't even know. He was so fucked up he didn't even know which stones he needed. So he just used everything but the light stone: a red, a yellow, and a purple.
All three were accepted, and now, slowly but surely, the wounds in his belly and the back of his leg began to seal up and heal, and his blood—as well as a fair bit of hydration—were replenished. And whatever organ the creature nicked—likely his intestinal tract—was repaired.
And then…
Well, then nothing. What was there to do but to pick up his sword, get back to his feet, and just keep moving? These kinds of situations had long since stopped being traumatic for Zach. He had no idea if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but honestly? This could happen to him like 10 tis a day now, and it still wouldn't affect him ntally. At so point, he'd just gotten hurt so many tis so badly that it was like nothing to him now. Just another day. The only ntal damage he suffered from things like this now was the anguish of wasting more of his stones.
Thus, five minutes after he walked, when he was considered out of combat long enough for "box 1" to beco available, he took another red, purple, and yellow out of storage. He now had a total of 5 red, 2 yellow, and 3 purple, with 4 red, 1 yellow, and 2 purple left in box 1.
The yellows are going to beco a major problem pretty soon, he thought. They're the only thing besides water that can replenish out here. And even if I find water, it doesn't give any electrolytes.
Zach looked ahead towards his waypoint, which was due east of here. He still had 4,892 miles to go. At the rate he was traveling, even if he could make the assumption—and really, he couldn't—that he was going to completely avoid getting hurt or attacked, he would still likely run out of his last two yellows by the ti he hit 4600. And that was being very generous with regard to his own abilities. Really, it was more like 4700. But even if he was lucky enough to find another "Wandering Water rchant" or two along the way, at best, he'd be dead by 4400. This was just the math of it all. It was a numbers ga at this point.
I'm doing sothing wrong, he thought. This can't be how we're supposed to go about things.
Zach pulled his map open, as he did regularly, and now, he thought he spotted sothing different. There was sothing there.
He zood out a bit so that the 10-mile radius beca 100. He could now see the green area—the village—he'd co from, along with the path he'd taken to get here. He could see his journey through Obal's Expanse, into Slithering Dunes, and at last, to his precise location in an area called Marching Side-Sands. Outside of that, the entire map was completely black other than the white letters that simply said "City" and a white question mark about 45 miles southwest of here, and it was that last bit that caused him to halt in place, stop for a mont, and think.
Was that always there?
No, it hadn't been. It must've popped up around 5 miles ago. But what was it? What did it an? It was just a "?" right there on top of the darkness of the map.
I just need to think. Okay, what do I know?
Zach decided to run the facts through his head because it was already pretty clear what he didn't know. He didn't know what that question mark ant, whether it was of any importance, and whether or not he should care at all, as it was completely out of his way, and heading there would probably lead to his death.
But here's what he did know.
He knew what he was doing wasn't working. Hell, forget "working." What he was currently attempting wasn't even possible. That much, he now knew for sure. But there was sothing else he knew. Sothing that occurred to him right now. And of everything, it was perhaps the most important piece of information of all.
Thanks to those nice villagers, he knew for a fact that the adventurers had made it to the city. But more importantly, he knew that all the adventurers had made it, not just so. Why did this matter? Because if every single adventurer had made it, then that ant Jimmy had made it. That ant Lienne made it. That ant Rian, the chubbiest of them, had made it.
This was incredibly significant because, if Zach was struggling this much to get through the desert, then those three in particular definitely couldn't have done it. No way in hell. Especially Jimmy and Rian. Those two would've died, co back, and died again before they'd even gotten a hundred miles. And even if the other adventurers had carried them, it would only be a matter of ti before all of them perished out here.
And yet, it was beyond question that all three had made it to the city. This ant there was only one logical—or even possible—conclusion that Zach could draw from this: that there was a better, perhaps even intended way, and he wasn't taking it. And it most likely required him to go out of the way in the wrong direction in order to find that—or other—question marks as they appeared.
But didn't the NPC guy say there was nothing to find in the desert?
Zach tried to recall what Gloral, the NPC based on a deceased Elvish Great One, had told them. Specifically, he'd said to get to the city as quickly as possible. He'd said there were no LATs hidden here, and that the mobs and bosses dropped no loot. But he didn't say how to get to the city, and he never said anything about heading in a straight line, either. That was just what Zach assud he was saying, but not what he'd actually said.
He'd said that there was nothing of "great value" to be found, and that adventurers shouldn't spend their ti farming. In other words, exhausting their energy, as really, trying to survive out here ant playing against ti and will.
He never said to just set a waypoint and walk straight.
Zach had to make a choice: go for the question mark, or keep heading to the city. And it was clear that the latter would kill him no matter how hard he tried or how much effort he put in. Things would be different if he could hop on his Kralzek's Beast, kick back, and let the mount run him there. It'd take about two days' worth of travel, but the wind would keep him cool, and the speed would help him avoid any threats.
But this way? It wasn't working. So, while he didn't know what he would find there, it was now his only option.
Leaving the blue-dot waypoint on the city, he added a green one on the question mark. It was 52.6 miles away. He turned his body so that he faced southwest, and he began to walk.
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