Defending Earth (In the System Book #3): LitRPG Series Read online

  A moment later, the ‘winner’ appeared in another place, on a stone platform suspended in space, beside a dozen similar ones. Low-ranking monsters stood frozen in stasis on some of the platforms. There was no way to escape from the divine domain without completing a quest, plus, one didn’t need to worry about feeding with this approach. A couple of seconds later, the goblin also froze, awaiting the next candidate. He didn’t have long to wait. Some of the monsters stirred, waking up from their sleep and preparing for a new duel.

  Meat… Unlike distant relatives on a world where the altar was located, the recent goblin belonged to a much lower-level civilization. So much so that he was sometimes labeled as a ‘monster’ by the System. Perhaps if the humans were defeated, Earth would become a place for farming, its people hunted or slaves of more advanced civilizations. The ones who survived, that is.

  Thrusting his hand into the mini-portal that had appeared in mid-air, Odin picked up the bag and casually threw it behind him, onto a pile of identical bags. Earth needed new players as thousands of new pawns. However, even making the first mission as easy as possible and selecting the weakest monsters didn’t guarantee a result. Nevertheless, the situation was unfolding much better than if they had let things happen ‘naturally’. The god put the deceased out of his mind and focused on other battles and new missions. To some extent, this resembled the strategy game that his son had liked to play. The last son out of the hundreds he ‘remembered’, and the only one still alive. If the other descendants had really existed at all, and weren’t simply another illusion generated by the System. Just like Odin himself, although it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember this.

  The candidate selection process went on...

  Chapter 8. The Healer

  NO MATTER WHAT PEOPLE thought of the government, it certainly had a very comprehensive approach to the problem. It was currently conducting all sort of experiments, testing and documenting ideas, then everything was re-examined and rechecked, this time by the analysts. Some individuals were monitoring the internet and Alliance chats, officially, in some instances. Not only officials from my country were involved. This didn’t exactly help people to communicate openly, but the exchange of information continued in one way or another.

  The players received reports and certain recommendations, based on the conducted research. These included individual recommendations, based on their abilities, physical characteristics and chosen weapon.

  I entered the auditorium and, after greeting the others, took an empty seat. Every morning began with a briefing, where we were told about current news and events, the analysts’ conclusions and other information.

  “Yesterday, we became aware of a skirmish with a new type of monster,” the major said. A puddle of slime appeared on the screen behind him. “The preliminary name is Slimes, or Slugs, if you prefer.”

  “I think I’ve seen something like this in a game?” A ‘student’ raised his hand, one of the people who’d joined the squad after the third mission.

  The lecturer didn’t mind the interruption. “You’re not the only one who thinks so. There is a hypothesis that these creatures are artificial, since they vaguely resemble the undead. To destroy them, one needs to pierce their magic core, located in the center of the body. The core is not very large and, judging by the preliminary data, can shift around. Although, formally, the Slimes only have rank F, it is difficult to kill them with bladed weapons since the flesh is quite dense and absorbs the blow, while the individuals can be quite large, almost the size of a human. Our weapons get stuck, while wounds close up are almost immediately, so the creature receives almost no damage.”

  This didn’t offset the fact that a System weapon slowly absorbed mana. But for that, it needed to remain inside the body.

  “The Slimes attacked the outskirts of Misaki, Japan. It was a F-ranked group mission. We learned about it mainly because one of the Far Eastern players who works with us was dragged into it.”

  Japan, huh… I’d recently fulfilled one of my promises by visiting the Japanese Embassy as part of a small delegation and solemnly handing over the diary, blood and hair samples of the deceased sorceress. Naturally, all the notes had been copied and studied first, to check for any secret information. I even spent 10 SP on learning Japanese and personally looked through the materials. One important finding was her number, for Matsuda Haruko was the Eleventh. This had little value since she was dead, so we left this information. The rest of the diary contained a sequence of events, a description of the undead and the encountered players, the death of most of them, and the discovery of the shelter. Then time had run out, the mission was declared a failure, conflicts began to break out among the players, and most had decided to make a break out of the city filled with undead. She had stayed. Hunger, fear, thoughts of approaching death, regrets. Despite all the measures taken, she clearly didn’t believe that the diary would make it back to Earth, so she wrote very frankly. Reading her diary sent shivers down my spine sometimes.

  My promise turned out to be very useful, as part of strengthening international cooperation and negotiations about players. The System didn’t care about state borders, and Japanese citizens were often drawn into our country. Not only to the Far East, but even further, into Siberia. This wasn’t necessarily a good thing, for monsters were not only a threat, but also a resource. There had already been several squabbles over the spoils.

  Most of our players were in cities close to Europe, which served as a kind of mutual protection. The more players around you, the lower the chance that you’d be sucked into a ‘voluntary’ mission. Work was currently underway to determine these summoning zones, and while some progress had been made, statistical data was lacking, and some believed that the borders shifted around anyway.

  “To forestall your questions, most of these creatures were eliminated not by the players, but by the military with firepower. They managed to capture at least a couple of individuals alive. According to preliminary data, fire, some types of magic, traps and explosives are effective against Slimes. The danger is low because they move only slightly faster than walking pace and there is usually an opportunity to escape. Any questions?”

  “Do they have any useful parts?”

  “That’s a good question. Our Japanese colleagues did not provide us with any samples. So far, Slime bodies present only scientific interest. However, some think that they can reproduce by division, so if you discover such a creature during a mission, try to capture it alive. You’ve all heard about the Farm project, and if this information is confirmed, then the Slimes will be a strategic resource that will enable you all to rapidly become stronger and without unnecessary risk. In addition, the government has promised a one-million-ruble bonus and priority access to the project results.”

  Interesting… If this information was confirmed, it meant that the Japanese had obtained a very strong trump card in this race. On the other hand, if rumors were spreading already, they were unlikely to keep a monopoly for very long.

  “Let’s move on to the next item. Another kind of monster has appeared in Congo, Africa. They’ve been named the Golden Monkeys...”

  * * *

  After the briefing came the training sessions, lectures, and combat classes. In some ways, it vaguely reminded me of college. Somewhere overseas. For example, each ‘student’ had an individual timetable, which was quite flexible.

  I’d gained enough experience during the third mission to improve one of my skills, so I chose Level 2 of Army Training (0/160). The very fact that I possessed such a skill allowed me to optimize my timetable so that I could devote time to more important things. Perfecting my skills and abilities and, considering my position, officer training courses. I’d been given the title in advance and now they were trying to make sure that I was worthy of it and wouldn’t lead my group to certain death in the first fight. In addition, I was kept busy by copying my skills onto empty cards. Even if most players didn’t have enough experience points
to study them right now, it was only a matter of time…

  “Attention everyone!” I raised my hand, taking the lecturer’s place. “Over the past few days, I have created copies of my existing skills. Army Training — nine cards; Sniper Craft and Mine Disposal — two cards each; Sabotage, Small Unit Tactics, Camouflage, Earth Medicine, Tracker, Goblin Language and Skald — one card each. Twenty cards in total. Once you’ve acquired 10 SP, any of you can approach management and learn one of these skills!”

  This wasn’t only my idea, but had been strongly requested by management. Such a wide range of cards was, let’s be honest, insurance in case of my death. Fortunately or unfortunately, I couldn’t copy the more complex skills due to the exponential level of difficulty. If accuracy didn’t reach a certain level, the card simply turned black and stopped responding, or crumbled in my hands. It seemed that some abilities couldn’t be copied at all. This was especially true for purely System skills.

  “I’m assuming this isn’t free?” Diamond asked. The raven was fussing around her, begging for handouts in what had quickly become a habit. These consisted of small crystals worth a few dozen mana units, which she created as part of her training. Crystals could be handed over at a price of one hundred rubles per unit of mana, so the sorceress certainly wasn’t short of money. Although her reserve was only two hundred mana units, Ksenia could easily create three crystals of maximum size per day, thus earning herself sixty thousand rubles daily.

  “No,” I replied. “The cards will be sold at the state price of 300,000 rubles, or you can exchange it for an empty.”

  “Permission to speak, sir!” Leonid aka Spartacus stood up. He was a young guy who had just returned from the army to join this group. “What if I don’t have that kind of money?”

  “I’ll answer that question,” the major stepped forward. “In this case, an interest-free loan will be issued instead of a salary.”

  “What if I get killed later on? Will the debt be passed on my family?”

  “If someone dies in the line of duty, their debt is written off. Their family will be provided with assistance and they will receive a pension. Any other questions?”

  There were none, but I noticed that several players looked dissatisfied. It was nothing new, people rarely appreciated what they were used to getting for free. Honestly, this was an act of charity on my part. The cards were worth at least 50,000 dollars on the black market. The price could exceed $100,000 for interesting skills. To hell with it... money was only a means, so there was no point in being greedy. We would be going into battle in the near future, and the stronger my allies were, the higher our overall chances of survival. Although, I must admit, they’d been taught to shoot well without any System skills. They certainly didn’t scrimp on ammunition here. I’d fired something like ten thousand shots myself. It was easy to forget that we served in a military organization while sitting in a lecture hall, but things got serious during weapon training.

  * * *

  I sniffed the air, smelling blood, pain and fear. What else would a slaughterhouse smell like? It mingled with the stench of manure and some kind of chemical. Slaughtering livestock was a tried and tested process, but our group was here for slightly different purposes. These were quite diverse: checking combat skills, practicing strikes, preparedness to kill, reaction to blood and guts, and, if we wanted to, learning how to butcher carcasses. I looked at the trembling cow, and then turned to my audience.

  “Use your Spear Fighting skill,” one of them suggested. “Or perhaps you’d prefer a carcass?”

  A trick question. As far as I knew, not all players could kill an ‘innocent animal’, although most had no qualms about gobbling down meat at the base canteen. Considering where we were, the only difference between a live animal and a dead one was an hour’s time.

  “I thought the whole point of this experiment was to record how the skill affects living beings?”

  The cow raised its head and gave me a mournful look. Unlike the goblins, she hadn’t done anything to me. Should I have felt ashamed of myself?

  “It doesn’t matter,” I muttered. “I recommend you take a few steps back!”

  Only a few people listened to my advice. Well, I did warn them. Raising my spear, I stepped forward and struck the cow, simultaneously activating Split Stone. Mana flowed down my arm and along the shaft, triggering an explosion. Bam! Blood and chunks of meat flew in a ten-meter arc all around me, splattering the walls, floor and ceiling. Only the animal’s rear end remained. Moreover, the rain of gore and bone fragments barely touched me, but my observers hadn’t been so lucky.

  “Son of a...!”

  I ignored the indignation of the audience, and listened instead to the elusive sensations. At the moment of the animal’s death, I had clearly felt a thin stream of energy passing through me to dissolve into emptiness. Something similar had happened in the goblin world, when I’d killed the horse. As I’d expected. There had been a lot of interest in experience points and plenty of experiments conducted. Killing Earth’s animals using System weapons had no effect. Some countries had gone even further by experimenting on criminals sentenced to death. In those instances, the effect was negative. The player received a warning after the first killing, then a red status for one week after the second killing. I suspected that experience points would have been given for killing the rule violator, and it might have triggered a mission to form, but no one had gone that far in their experiments. This didn’t actually mean that players couldn’t kill, they just couldn’t extract experience from it, which meant not using System weapons or relevant skills.

  The prisoners were another matter. Alien guests were a source of very generous XP, but, more importantly, they could obtain experience from Earth’s living creatures. There were some restrictions, so various critters didn’t count. The advice was to take weak monsters alive, and then level them up in special ‘farms’. The experience losses under this scheme were huge, but it allowed us to bypass the restrictions and minimize the risk.

  “Why the hell didn’t you say that you were going to blow this beast up?”

  “I did warn you,” I shrugged. “Is the strength of this skill clear? You got it all on film? Then let’s move on to leveling up my familiar. I think we better do it somewhere else, it’s a bit messy here…”

  Legion didn’t belong to our world, so, in theory, the restrictions didn’t extend to him. From the point of view of the System, he was a monster, just like the ones who came here to hunt.

  * * *

  I didn’t explode the next cow, who had clearly been drugged, and simply plunged a spear into it. It actually wasn’t so simple, for I had to strike hard enough to pierce the skin, and precisely enough to cause serious injury. Yet in a way that wouldn’t immediately kill the animal, otherwise the experience would be wasted. I released the spear and stepped back, and the raven immediately landed on the shaft, wrapping his claws around it. Ten seconds passed, and, having absorbed the energy, he flew aside to let me pull the spear from the corpse.

  “That was quite tedious…”

  “Crystals?” raven stared pointedly at the hefty carcass, which several employees had picked up with a loader and were dragging somewhere deeper into the complex. As far as I knew, the ‘drained’ corpses were examined for edibility, and then sent for disposal or recycling. I certainly hoped that this meat wouldn’t find its way to the supermarket shelves.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, friend, but there are no crystals inside them,” I said, throwing the spear over my shoulder. “Bring out the next one.”

  Unfortunately, cows provided very little experience — just one point, and that was thanks to my spear’s rank (E). They were on the very edge of being useful, and the result was even lower for basic weapons (F), with some cows providing no points at all. The System rounded down, so if an animal was worth less than one point, you’d get nothing. I think it was a kind of global protection from mass genocide. For this reason, small creatures like chickens, sh
eep or even pigs weren’t suitable for leveling up.

  I looked at my new victim, which trembled slightly, as if anticipating its end. The body of its predecessor had been removed and the blood had been washed away with a hose, but the smell lingered. It was sad, yet I couldn’t stop halfway. I had a whole herd to kill today.

  “If someone cares and spoils her, it shall be the same one as who’ll eventually kill her…”

  The work progressed slowly since we had to follow numerous rules, but Legion wasn’t that far off from the level limit. After a few hours, the raven reached Level 2 (0/90), and Bri actually reached Level 3 (0/15). F-ranked creatures needed much less energy, so we managed to do this unnoticed. I just slightly overestimated the number of experience points required for Legion. I hadn’t told the authorities about the ghost, since it was too tempting to keep this card up my sleeve. When it came to the raven, the authorities knew he was intelligent, although they seriously underestimated how much so.

  The difference between ranks was clear when they leveled up. Not only in the upper limit, but also in the number of points given per level. An F-ranked creature got one, while a D-ranked creature got three. Furthermore, the raven immediately distributed his points, while Bri waited for my orders. I was tempted to increase the ghost’s Intelligence, but his current obedience and lack of initiative suited me quite well. Hence, I ordered him to spend both points on Wisdom, thus increasing his autonomy.