It was a one-of-a-kind, an item that could potentially revolutionize gameplay. I hadn’t forgotten how the invisible Maidens almost instantly massacred a crew of Pandorum’s veteran hunters. The Veil could bring me millions — or become a weapon that decided the outcome of a war. For a few seconds, I was torn between greed and something intangible usually called “conscience,” and then a great idea crossed my mind, bringing the puzzle pieces together. Why the hell not, really?
In several clicks, I added the Veils to the cargo that Borland’s nave was supposed to deliver to Condor and started calculating the total amount of components for the blueprints I had. All this time, I had a happy smile on my face. Whatever one may say, Cat always paid his debts — especially when he was being compensated!
The final touch was checking the shipping contracts. At that moment, my cargo barques were making the last few trips from Dorsa: after the Pandas’ arrival, the logistics had become too dangerous. I wondered what would become to the carebear clans that leased the land from the alliance after the war started in full swing. Would they join the ranks of warriors? Make a run for it? Change sides? Pandorum propaganda was already starting its work, a letter with an exclamation mark arriving in the alliance mail, forwarded by one of our guys. It was an appeal to the Northern Alliance, and our enemies actively linked it everywhere in the general chat.
To the Northern Alliance and all people of these lands
We’re here, and it cannot be stopped.
Your lands will become ours, and it cannot be stopped, either.
You still have time to leave and keep some of your property. Use this opportunity. Soon, you will lose everything.
We won’t make this offer again. Flee or die fighting.
Phantom, Euthanasia, Pandorum Alliance
Those sons of bitches had a flair for drama. This message was supposed to sow panic and lower our morale. In response, several clan leaders posted inspiring messages. I didn’t notice any big changes in the structure of our alliance and the number of players, other than losing one small clan that lived in the south, right where the enemy had struck first. They probably evacuated in panic, packing their belongings and disassembling the clan outposts.
Hird had refused to fight the Pandas. I wondered who would come to our help. Phoenix? I doubted that. I scrolled through the official Sphere forum, which was seriously stirred up by the destruction of Golden Fairs. Ananizarte continued moving, her hordes completing the conquest of formerly Fairian provinces. Most likely, her next destination was the clan holdings of the Reds located to the south. The forums were in a complete uproar. Hundreds of people who had lost property after the Sublime Comet’s strike cried, whined, and sniveled. Trolls were out in full force. The administration had compensated for some of the losses, but it clearly was nowhere near enough. Community managers kept claiming that the events were in line with the game mechanics and followed the Agreement. Many players threatened to cancel their subscriptions and leave for other MMOs. Phoenix issued an ultimatum, demanding a rollback. Otherwise, their entire alliance would exit the game. I chuckled — it was pure bluff. They would shout for a while and then return; Sphere was the only project of such scale in the world. Compared to it, any other virtual realm would only serve to disappoint. However, all this pandemonium made it clear that we shouldn’t expect our allies to lend us aid anytime soon.
I found a few threads about our war against Pandorum as well. Generally, nobody expected a small Russian alliance to stop the Pandas’ war machine. Bets weren’t even accepted. True, the Northerners had a lot of skilled, experienced fighters with well-known veteran raid leaders like Komtur and Mook, but that wasn’t enough. We were no match for them in numbers, class, gear, and the size of the astral fleet, the latter, by several orders of magnitude. Our clans were only beginning to acquire flying ships, and Pandorum could send out hundreds of vessels.
The “Exodus from the Netherworlds” topic proved to be more interesting. Apparently, the Pandas’ vassals were moving to Dorsa for good! Jeez, what a nice surprise. Something that had happened on two layers of the Netherworlds at once caused those pet clans to suddenly emigrate. Nobody was sure what exactly made them leave their old haunts. There was talk of superpowered NPCs who emerged after numerous warnings about violations of Balance. Allegedly, the procedural generator reacted to the Pandas’ soul collection business that they carried out through their vassals. The only proof was a low-quality postmortem video: an area filled with smoke, shaking display, a stinging violet ray, a fleeting image of a blurry silhouette somewhat resembling a giant spider... Forum members analyzed it frame-by-frame and discussed the odd creature, but nobody could add anything worthwhile.
Curious. I made a mental note to discuss it with the former developers in the Silver Stronghold. There was no time for that yet. The list of immediate checkpoints was pinned in the alliance channel, and the next day had an extremely tight schedule: four southern outposts, an important battle for Dark, the castle of the Enemy, two more outposts, the castle of the Heroes, outposts again, five of them, and, in sixteen hours, the final chord — the battle for Condor.
The raid was already being assembled, and my inbox was bursting with messages: the alliance leaders really wanted to talk.
* * *
Heroes-owned outpost, western Dorsa
“So here he is, your famous Cat.” Evil Mook slowly circled me, inspecting me like a curiosity.
“He fails to meet the alliance standards and refuses to meow any personal information,” he continued. “Cats like that deserve to be drowned.”
Evil Mook played as a tiefling, a demonic race available only to golden accounts. I
