Several of the creatures stood guard on top of the wall, holding a variety of different weapons but looking as though they were bored out of their minds. Most were facing entirely the wrong way, looking into the circle instead of keeping watch for enemies that might be approaching.
The goblins were of a kind that Pete hadn’t encountered before. They were similar in size and stature to the boar-riding Scavenger goblins he’d encountered when he first picked up the gauntlet, but they seemed far less organized and uniform in appearance.
The distinguishing and unifying theme throughout the group was the prevalence of dice and dice-themed objects. Each of the goblins wore a leather thong or chain with at least three large dice hanging from them, all of different sizes and colors but looking like they were handmade rather than built by machine. Most were white or red, but there were a few other colors in evidence too, and the same gambling theme was evident in the clothes they wore.
Scraps of leather armor were adorned with images of crudely sketched dice, as were the boots they wore, the occasional shield, and helmet. Many of the goblins also had tattoos with the same dice theme, and it looked as though some had even disfigured their own heads to better resemble dice, cutting off or pinning back their own ears and marking out what were supposed to be the lines of a twenty-sided die in a desperate effort to look more like the object they clearly venerated above all else.
“That’s fucking weird,” Pete said, turning to Sam. “You seeing this?”
“Oh, the guy down there who shaved off his head to look more like a die? Yeah, I see it.”
“Weird is good, I guess. Maybe there’s more chance of racking up some achievements with these guys than if we were fighting a normal enemy?”
Sam shrugged. “I guess so. It all seems kind of arbitrary though, doesn’t it? The damned System does whatever the hell it wants.
[Nero] It may indeed feel that way; however, I should remind you that there are certain ways in which you can influence the way the System interacts with you, and even what kind of achievements or rewards you may obtain. It all comes down to spectacle, remember? The more flamboyant or extravagant you can make certain actions look, the more likely it is to be popular on the Dominion Ultrimax feeds. That popularity will make the System more likely to offer valuable rewards, as it will want to encourage such actions in the future.
“Just another fucking algorithm pushing sensationalism,” Sam hissed. “This is why I don’t do social media, and I don’t do clickbait! The whole thing is designed to generate rage and hatred for no other reason than to keep people watching!”
“Our lives are controlled by an algorithm now, literally,” Pete said.
[Nero] Not a single algorithm per se, but rather a highly advanced and highly evolved artificial intelligence whose only allegiance is to Baron Tongsly Belch and the Dominion Ultrimax competition. There are many algorithms at play within the contest, of course, but not a single overriding algorithm.
It was depressing enough being shoved into a life-and-death contest where you had to discover the rules as you went. The realization that their fates were in the metaphorical hands of an AI was terrifying, particularly considering the kinds of behaviors the System seemed to reward: murder, torture, extravagant violence.
Pete tried to put that out of his mind and focus on the issue at hand. They needed Core Attribute points, and they needed them fast. That meant playing the game by the System’s rules, no matter how much he hated that idea.
[Nero] There is another possibility, of course. Remember, the System is observing our every move and will already know of our need to acquire Core Attribute points. It may be that the System provides a specific quest in response to this desire, just as it did with the Red Ledger.
Pete nodded. “Are we not close enough to get a read on these guys? Some basic stats so we know what we’re heading into?”
[Nero] Not yet. One member of the party will need to move a little closer in order for a basic description to be made available.
Sam nodded. “What about Wolfy? Does he count as a party member?”
[Nero] Not technically, but given that he is an extension of a class ability you possess, he will serve as an extension of yourself. If you are able to cast him close enough, we will have access to an enemy description.
“Just make sure you don’t tip them off that we’re here,” Pete said. “I think we’ll be able to do a lot better achievement-wise if we can get in a few surprise attacks early on.”
She nodded. “Plenty of places around that car wall where there are no goblins. Half of the guards aren’t even paying attention, anyway. I’ll just pop him over there on the other side of that pickup truck and make sure he doesn’t attack. I can set him to defense only so he’ll pretty much just sit there until we need him.”
“Good riddance,” Coop muttered, scoring a scowl from Sam.
“What the hell is your problem with dogs?”
“That is not a dog! It’s a groin-licking demon that won’t stop looking at me like it wants to eat me.”
As if to demonstrate, Coop pointed a paw at the minion who was sitting on the rooftop a few feet away, staring with those spiraling crimson hell eyes directly at the ferret.
“See!”
Sam rolled her eyes. “It’s not going to eat you. Not unless I tell it to, anyway.”
She turned back to the scene below, and Wolfy vanished, appearing on the rear side of the pickup truck to the left of the wall surrounding the mini arena. Pete could just make out the hellhound’s eerie red eyes peering out from the shadowed area behind the motorhome as he heard Coop mutter something about a ‘creepy demon dog’ as she hunched down nearby.
>> NON PLAYER CAPITALIST [NPC] CLAN
NAME: The Dice Barons
>> CLAN DESCRIPTION
Once lowly Bone-Rollers, this clan clawed its way up the Mammon System’s hierarchy by wagering, bluffing, and bleeding their way to fame and almost fortune. They revere dice as sacred tools of fate and currency, and every major choice—battle plans, food rations, even which limb to gnaw when hungry—is decided by the roll.
The first Barons claimed to hear the whispers of a minor Chaos God — Zyrrath, the Laughing Chance, patron of risk, folly, and fortune. They say Zyrrath rolled the very first die from the bones of a dead titan and cast it into the void, letting the pips fall where they may. From that moment, all events in the universe bore his mark — accidents, coincidences, jackpots, and disasters alike.
The Dice Barons thrive in chaos. They’re unpredictable, loud, and prone to sudden windfalls or devastating blunders, which makes fighting them as dangerous as it is entertaining.
>> CORE CLAN TRAITS
+| Gambling Instinct: Every attack, defense, or spell cast has a chance to be boosted or sabotaged based on a random dice roll.
+| Wager Economy: Dice Barons can “bet” coins during combat. The higher the stakes, the more their attacks scale if they win — but if they lose, they may injure themselves or pay out loot mid-battle.
+| Jackpot Frenzy: When a Baron unit lands three critical rolls in a row, they enter a frenzy, attacking with wild abandon while showers of coins spill from their pouches.
“So, that’s a tick for spectacle,” Sam said. “Seems like these guys are going to make the fighting interesting.”
“Yeah, but that might make our job harder,” Pete reasoned. “We can’t just line a bunch of them up and kill them with a trick shot if they’re all rolling dice and doing crazy stuff.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
>> CLAN UNITS
+| Coin Tossers (Basic Infantry)
Weapons: Rusted daggers and fistfuls of weighted dice.
Mechanic: Flip a coin before each attack; heads = extra damage, tails = they trip or stab a comrade.
+| Dice Cutthroats (Skirmishers)
Weapons: Twin bone dice blades, sharpened edges that cut deep.
Mechanic: Roll 2d6 each attack; doubles trigger a “Lucky Slash,” dealing bonus damage.
+| Jackpot Slingers (Ranged Units)
Weapons: Slings loaded with metal dice, coin shards, or even tiny slot-machine mechanisms.
Mechanic: Damage depends on the number they roll; crits cause a coin explosion, scattering loose change that can stun or distract enemies.
+| Pit Bosses (Elites)
Weapons: Spiked cudgels engraved with dice pips and weighted ledgers used as shields.
Mechanic: Can “call” other Barons to reroll failed actions; if they lose the reroll, the Pit Boss smashes them as punishment mid-combat.
+| The High Roller (Clan Champion / Boss)
Weapons: A massive, two-handed die mace (each face engraved with fortunes and curses).
Mechanic: Rolls a giant d20 at the start of every round. Effects vary:
1–5: Self-damage or loss of coins.
6–15: Standard boosted attack.
16–19: Critical devastation (area effect coin-storm).
20: Jackpot Roll — summons a cascade of spectral dice that batter the battlefield.
Pete looked down at the scene below. “Can’t see a High Roller, can you?”
Sam shook her head. “No, but there’s something going on at the back there. A whole mess of goblins gathered around that wheel.”
The wheel she was referring to looked like it had been ripped right off a game show from the eighties. It was painted with garish colors, with a series of unintelligible figures and images on each slice of the pie and metal pegs sticking out from the circumference of the wheel.
“I guess they’re not just into dice,” Pete offered. “They’re up for any kind of gambling.”
Wolfy popped back into existence on the roof just beside Sam, prompting Coop to spring into the air, cat-like, her claws extended as she hopped back. The hellhound, by contrast, sat staring up at Sam and panting, crimson eyes twirling.
“Don’t do that!” Coop hissed. “You have to warn me before you summon that cretin!”
“I really don’t,” Sam said with a smile. “Besides, he’ll grow on you.”
“He really won’t!” Coop insisted.
Feeling a little like an older brother caught between two warring sisters, Pete narrowed his eyes and tried to get a clearer view of the spinning wheel. There was something strapped to it, but he couldn’t see what it was that had the surrounding goblins so interested. They were jumping and shouting, slapping each other on the backs and throwing dice as various games took place around the center of the arena they had built.
You could see what must have been the elite Pit Bosses walking through the crowd of smaller goblins, each hefting large wooden clubs with white dice studding their length and each holding a gaudy ledger as a shield, covered with flaking golden paint. Larry still only stood up to Pete’s chest in height, but those clubs looked like they could break a bone or two and he wasn’t keen to find out how much it would hurt getting hit in the head by one of the wooden cudgels.
“Definitely something at the center of that wheel that they’re interested in,” he said as Sam leaned forward to get a decent look herself.
“Another Noob maybe?” she suggested. “Some poor bastard they picked up and pinned to the damned thing.”
“Maybe. Hey, Nero, are we likely to get an achievement if we rescue someone from these guys? Does the System reward things like that?”
[Nero] Indeed it does, particularly if your story leans in a heroic trajectory. The further you progress along your path as either heroic or villainous, the more potential benefits and achievements will be on offer for each path. Conversely, certain negative factors will come into play if you act in a manner that is contrary to your path. For instance, if you have been acting heroically since you began the contest only to perform a despicably unheroic act when you reach the Gladiator Arena, you will be punished far more severely by the system than you would have otherwise. It is also possible to walk more of a neutral line; however, neutral players very rarely gather large followings and thus do not tend to last long within the contest.
“Got it,” Pete said. “So we just need to be consistent.”
“Exactly. Consistently a bastard or an angel,” Sam said.
[Nero] At least as far as your actions in the contest go, correct. The system cannot read your mind, however. The technology has not yet been developed to be able to read players' thoughts. I believe it is currently under development, but testing has proven somewhat disastrous as the minds of test subjects have tended to crack under the pressure of such a device.
“Well,” Sam said, squinting down at the milling goblins below, “that’s horrifying. Damn, we really need to get ourselves a pair of binoculars the next time we come across a kiosk.”
Pete chuckled at that. “There are like three stores in this mall that would have them. Can’t get into the damned things though.”
He looked out at the surrounding buildings, each of them locked behind her shimmering semi-transparent green shield. Nero had said that once they were past the novice arena, more of these buildings would be opened up and available to players, but that didn’t help them with their current predicament.
“Okay, I’m gonna get in there and take a closer look,” Pete said. “As long as I didn’t kill anything, my stealth will hold, so I’ll take a look and report back.”
Sam nodded. Coop was less pleased with the plan.
“You expect me to stay here with that thing on the loose?” She nodded her head toward the hellhound.
“I won’t be long. Besides, he hasn’t done anything to hurt you. Sam has him under control, right?” Pete turned to Sam, and she nodded.
“Right,” she said with a wicked grin. “And I promise I won’t let him eat you unless you really, really deserve it.”
Pete transferred any cash he had on hand to Coop and moved to the back of the roof and the ladder leading down to ground level. He was just about to start climbing when a new announcement appeared on his display.
>> NEW QUEST: Achievement Bonanza!
Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Neither! Chickens don’t have belly buttons! The point is… you need points. Achievement points to be exact. And your best way of getting those points is to rack up some tasty Achievements, right… right?
So, here’s the deal. Rack up at least ten achievements between your party members in the ensuing clash with the Dice Barons, and you’ll score yourself a hefty reward. Fail, and you’ll basically screw yourself over for the next five hours and risk ruining any chance of surviving the contest.
Time to roll the dice, motherfuckers!
QUEST REWARD: 5 Core Attribute Points.
QUEST PENALTY: - 50% Constitution (5 hrs), - 50% attack speed (5 hrs), - 50% critical chance (5 hrs), a floating holographic sign above your head that reads ‘Dumb Ass’ (10 hrs).
“Fuck!” Pete hissed as the quest was locked in. “We don’t get to even choose these quests, do we?”
[Nero] You do not. Unfortunately, your only choice is whether to try and successfully complete the quest or not to make the attempt.
“Which isn’t an option in this case,” Sam added. “And we’re basically at the System’s mercy. If it doesn’t want to give us Achievements, then it just won’t do it. So it could basically rig this whole quest against us.”
[Nero] I would suggest then that you strive to make the coming battle as entertaining as possible. You must force the System into giving you achievements by providing undeniable entertainment.
“And you’re sure that’s gonna work?” Pete asked. “You’re sure the System doesn’t just have it in for us?”
[Nero] Lie mode engaged. Of course, Pete. The system is incapable of singling out individuals for retribution. Its interest is only in making the game as exciting for viewers as possible. Lie mode disengaged.
Pete shook his head, frowning. “You know we heard that, right? That whole lie mode thing.”
[Nero] Forgive me. Just a little AI humor that I thought you might all enjoy. I do not really have a lie mode. And, if I did, I would hardly announce it to you all.
Unimpressed, Pete began climbing down the ladder, checking that his Liquidation status had kicked in.
>> STATUS WARNING: YOUR ASS IS BROKE!
He reached ground level and walked past the hybrid vehicles they’d parked behind the building. Two pairs of crazed eyes stared straight ahead, the tortured Noobs staring straight through him as he moved around the side of the structure and headed for the makeshift arena.
As he moved closer, two things became immediately apparent to Pete. First, the goblins were not shy about the amount of sound they made. The entire courtyard echoed with the sounds of boisterous laughter, gravelly shouts and curses, and the general din that he might otherwise have associated with a rowdy dive bar on any Friday night.
Second, the goblins exuded a stench that was so profound it reached his nostrils when he was still a good hundred yards away from the car wall surrounding the arena. The reek of underarm odor, sweat, and something that could only be described as hot trash was so strong that it smelled like Pete was sneaking up on a garbage dump.
[Pete] Jesus! These things stink like ass.
[Sam] I bet. See if you can get around to the Winnebago. Looks like that spot will give you a clear view of what’s going on inside the circle.
[Pete] Got it.
He moved around to the side of the vehicle wall, spotting a goblin standing watch on top of a black Chrysler station wagon. The little figure was holding some kind of projectile weapon that looked like a mini slot machine strapped to a steampunk-style rifle. The goblin was staring out into the distance, one finger in his left ear, a dice-themed bracelet dangling from his wrist.
[Sam] You know they can’t see you, right? Why the hell are you crouching down like that?
[Pete] I can’t help it. It just doesn’t feel right walking around like nothing is out of the ordinary.
[Sam] He would have already seen you, even with all that creeping around.
[Pete] It’s not creeping around. I’m being stealthy!
>> STEALTH PROFICIENCY +1
[Pete] See! The crouching is totally worth it.
[Sam] Keep telling yourself that, but you look like a moron sneaking around down there.
Pete grinned as he approached the truck and edged around the corner of the vehicle. He found that his view of the area ahead was still obscured, so he had to move forward, moving through the gap between the pickup truck and a minivan.
The mass of goblins continued to shout and scream in delight, patting one another on the back, or punching, or even dancing as they all rolled dice and drank from oversized metal goblets. Those at the rear of the group were busy rolling dice and betting Belch Bucks and various other items excitedly with one another. Now and then, Pete could hear the goblins shout the name Zyrrath as though invoking the dice god’s blessing on some roll or other.
There were other goblins sparring against one another elsewhere in the huge, enclosed space. They used a variety of weapons but, curiously, seemed to roll a series of dice before each new engagement as though seeking their god’s blessing before embarking on another violent frenzy.
“Zyrrath rolls with me!” some of them shouted, along with other variations like, “By the Balls of Zyrrath,” or “Zyrrath be praised!” Pete turned his attention away from those at the rear of the group and looked towards the wheel around which dozens of goblins were gathered excitedly.
It took a few moments for him to position himself so that he could see clearly who it was pinned to the wheel and being jeered at by the surrounding horde. There was a goblin pinned out spread-eagle against the center of the wheel, his near-naked body battered and bruised, eyes wide. It took a few moments for Pete to realize that he recognized that goblin. He had only met the figure once, but the little character had left such an impression that he couldn’t help but remember.
[Pete] Holy shit! It’s Craig!