《Knight of the Night [Dark Comedic LitRPG]》 Prologue : The Messenger of the END God was bored. Not the literal God, no. But for the people in the light-blessed empire of Lumindarael, power and divinity had become one and the same. He had ruled for so long that his true name had faded from memory. Today, they called him the God of Light. He sat motionless upon his crystalline throne, his long silver hair framing a face untouched by time. An elaborate crystal crown adorned his head and his pure white robes shimmered with light. With a bored sigh, he turned his head, watching the circus unfold around him. Courtiers hustled about, each one trying to catch his attention. "Your Holiness, the eastern farms report a bountiful harvest-" "My lord, if I may draw your attention to the matter of-" "Divine One, surely you''ll want to hear about-" Their voices blurred together to form meaningless sounds. After millennia of the same reports, the same whispers ¡­ it was all such a chore. God exhaled a breath of pure tedium. Light gathered around him in a scared halo as he rested his head lazily on his right hand, gazing at the floor below him. Yet despite their brilliance, his eyes remained as distant as the stars. Another day. Another millennium. Always the same. And then it happened. It was subtle at first, a dulling of the light. The courtiers paused mid-word, eyes darting around the chamber as shadows crept in. Dimmer and darker, until nothing remained. Then a single sound split the darkness. "HAHAHAHAHAHA!" A high-pitched manic laughter erupted, echoing from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The courtiers froze, searching the darkness for its source. But none was found. The sound seemed to come from the shadows themselves. Next came the flames. Dark flames burst to life in the room''s center, purple and amber streaks spiraling outward into a perfect circle. Black smoke poured from its core, forming a portal in the air. Then, he appeared. A tall, lean man stepped through; a cruel smile stretched across his face. He wore tight black clothing that absorbed what little light remained. Shadows danced around him like eager servants, and a crescent scythe gleamed in his hand. "Greetings, Your Majesty," he said, voice filled with mockery. He swept into an exaggerated bow, his grin widening. "I bear a gift." The room fell silent. Not a soul moved as the stranger surveyed the frozen courtiers, eyes dancing with cruel amusement. A young guard stood forward. It was Harold, vice-captain of the royal guards. Ambition burned in his chest. He had risen through the ranks rapidly, and now his moment had come. He drew his sword and stepped forward, his mind teeming with visions of glory. "In the name of His Holiness," Harold declared. "You will-" But the smiling man did not even look at him. A flash of silver and a red line streaked across his vision. Harold''s world split in two - one eye watched his legs buckle, the other stared at the ceiling. His mind was still composing his story of glory when his head hit the ground.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Chaos erupted. Courtiers scattered, desperate for cover as more guards rushed forward. But the smiling man kept swinging, the guards kept falling and the smiling man¡¯s smile grew ever wider. The Cardinals and court mages sprang into action, their voices rising in unison. "Protect His Holiness!" One Holy Bolt, two Holy Novas, three Holy Smites. The rapid burst of their spells sent the room alternating between pitch black and searing bright. But the smiling man was as elusive as the shadows, slipping between portals that appeared as suddenly as they vanished. One moment he stood among the flames, the next he disappeared into the fabric of space. Sometimes only his scythe arm emerged, claiming another life before vanishing. Other times he''d streak between portals like dark lightning, only exposing himself for long enough to sling a few dark fireballs at his enemies. With so many portals littered around the room, it was impossible to guess where he would emerge next. Holy light clashed against dark flames. Guards fell in waves, caught between the reaper''s blade and the crossfire of spells. Their bodies painted the floor in growing patterns of red. Still, even with this bloodbath in front of him, God did not budge. The smiling man carved his way closer to the throne, his laughter ringing louder, more frenzied. When he finally stood before the throne, he paused. With a dramatic leap, he raised his scythe high, aiming for God¡¯s unmoving form. "Your gift, Your Majesty," he sneered, swinging the blade downward. It would all be over soon. ¡°Kkssshhh¡± A blinding flash of light flooded the room. A radiant sword of pure light materialized between the scythe and its target, halting the blow mere inches from God. And for the first time, God stirred. He lifted his gaze off the ground to face his assailant. They were face to face now. Close enough to see the pores on each other¡¯s faces. Close enough that a single wrong move would bring about mortal peril. And yet, even now, God''s expression never changed. He stared at the man beside him with those same soulless eyes before finally opening his mouth. "Your attempt at jesting has piqued my interest. Speak, little insect. Who are you?" The cacophony of screams died down, filling the room with a static silence. When God spoke, all will listen. "I am but a humble messenger, Your Highness..." The intruder''s smile stretched wider. "The messenger of the END." With a laugh, he stepped back, disengaging from the sword of light. He lowered his scythe and dropped into a deep bow. "For too long, the light has blinded us, depriving us of the comfort of the dark. But today, I come bearing the gift of prophecy:
The Chosen One has descended upon this realm. The END is here and the light shall fade. And night will fall once more."
He flung his head back and laughed; a manic, unhinged sound that reverberated through the chamber. God¡¯s face remained unchanged. He sighed, a small, annoyed sound, as if inconvenienced by a tedious chore. The END. Yet another clown who thought he could upend the existing order. Many have tried. All have failed. In the end, light always wins. "Begone, heretic," he commanded. A hundred swords of light appeared above him, their radiance turning the chamber into a second sun. With a snap of his fingers, they rained down on the smiling man. But before they could strike, a dark portal opened beneath him, engulfing him whole. Only his laughter remained, haunting the chamber as the portal closed. And then, as the silence settled once more, the light returned. With a second snap of his fingers, droplets of golden rain fell like morning dew, seeping into flesh and bone. The fallen guards stirred, their mortal wounds knitting closed. Blood retreated from the marble floor, leaving it pristine as though death had never visited. ¡°Across the heavens and the seas, I alone am the exalted one. So long as I am here, the light shall never dim,¡± God decreed. The chamber erupted in praise and worship, though their god had already turned his attention elsewhere, lost once more in his endless ennui.
Elsewhere, in a world far removed from this, a young man sat bathed in the blue glow of his monitor. The clock on his wall read 3 AM, but sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Lines of code scrolled across one screen while another displayed multiple tabs of forum messages. On his central monitor, the game client pulsed in black and white. WORLD OF RUIN His fingers twitched with anticipation as he adjusted the VR headset. His reflected grin was illuminated by the screen''s glow. An epic battle of light and darkness. They said this game was impossible to beat. "Perfect," he whispered. "Let''s see how impossible it really is.¡± Chapter 1: The Knight of the Night
Initiating Neural Scan...
Warning: Anomalous Neural Patterns Detected
Processing Real-World Parameters...
Converting Life Experience to Talents...
Notice: Exceptional Aptitude Found
Welcome to the World of Ruin. Please select your character.
A robotic voice greeted me. Calm, mechanical, but with a touch of grandeur. Before me stood a massive catalog of classes, each one rendered in impressive holographic detail. The figures hovered before me, showcasing their unique equipment and combat styles in real time. I scrolled through the list. It appeared that I could choose a class and an elemental affiliation. They would then combine to create a unique playstyle for the class. I played around with various options and the creations expanded to fill the space around me. The Crimson Knight (Fire Knight). A towering warrior clad in heavy armor that glowed like molten metal. His broadsword was twice the size of any normal weapon. Every swing of his blade crackled with fiery energy, leaving a trail of flames that scorched the air. I mimicked his pose, making exaggerated swooshing noises. "Look at me, I''m the Crimson Knight! I solve all my problems by setting them on fire!" Rolling my eyes, I swiped left. Hard pass. Leave the fire and fury to the kids who still think bigger explosions equal better gameplay. Next was the Shadow Priest (Dark Cleric). Draped in dark robes, their face was obscured by shadows that clung to them like mist. Their chaotic magic could grant unimaginable strength to allies, or exact a terrible price. This dual-edged nature of their spells was both terrifying yet exhilarating. It was kind of cool. Unfortunately, spellcasting just wasn¡¯t my thing. Heroes in my favorite stories never sat in the back lobbing curses. They were on the front lines, sword in hand, protecting others. In my heart, I already knew what I wanted so I decided to quit playing around and created it. My ideal choice, the Dark Knight (Dark Knight). This was it. A warrior wrapped in sleek, jet-black armor that seemed to merge with the surrounding darkness. Where other knights clad themselves in bulky plates, the Dark Knight''s armor was streamlined for speed and precision. Their blade glowed with dark energy, every swing leaving trails of shadow in its wake. I grinned. This was perfect. I¡¯ve always had a soft spot for dark gloomy edgelords, and the Dark Knight practically screamed my name. I reached out and selected it.
Denied
I blinked in shock. Huh? Denied? My face rippled with confusion. I stared at the message again and again. Was this some kind of glitch? I selected it once more, this time tapping it with more insistence.
Denied
I tapped the selection again, irritated. The room dimmed, displays flickering out one by one until only a faint blue glow remained. The familiar hum of the game system died, leaving behind a silence that made the hair on my neck rise. Then, a soft, sultry voice broke the silence. "My¡­ my¡­ what do we have here¡­?" She materialized from the shadows. Tall and elegant, with a face that made smart men do stupid things. The pipe between her painted lips trailed wisps of smoke that seemed to dance through the air. She sauntered up to me, her hips swaying like a pendulum. Her deep blue eyes studied me with unsettling focus, numbers seeming to scroll across them like data on a screen. Her smile widened ever so slightly, as if she''d just confirmed something interesting. ¡°How very interesting,¡± she purred. ¡°The numbers don¡¯t lie. A once-in-a-generation genius... Your talents in the real world have made you quite exceptional here... it would be such a waste to let your potential rot on a mere physical class." She blew a puff of sweet smoke into my face. My mind grew hazy, protests dying in my throat before they could form. It was easier to let her continue. ¡°Your Intelligence stat is off the charts. SSS++. In all my years monitoring, I''ve never seen such potential.¡± She threw me another suggestive look as if impressed by my stats, ¡°No, no, no... forget the knights. You simply must select a magical class. The Mage, master of the arcane; the Warlock, commander of eldritch power; the Shadow Priest, wielder of forbidden knowledge." Her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "Or perhaps... a Necromancer. Just imagine the armies you could command with an intellect like yours." I felt my hand twitch, inching toward her choices. But then... Wait. No. I blinked, irritation clearing my head faster than any antidote. Nobody dictates how I play my games. ¡°Nah,¡± I shot back. ¡°I don¡¯t play casters. Magic''s cool and all, but nothing beats the satisfaction of a good sword swing.¡± Ignoring her, I reached out to select the Dark Knight again, jabbing the button insistently.
Denied
Her chuckle was soft, teasing. ¡°Oh, you are intriguing... but fate is unavoidable.¡± She moved behind me and laid her arms on my shoulder. She leaned in close, her lips dangerously close to my ears.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°The Demon King,¡± she whispered. Her lips brushed my earlobes. ¡°That is your destiny. The ultimate caster, able to summon legions of demons, bending them to your will. You are meant to command armies, to reshape the very world itself.¡± Her hand shifted downwards to grab mine, squeezing it. ¡°Just think about it, you could have anything you desire." Squeeze. "All that power, waiting. And you''d rather swing a sword? Fulfill your potential. Choose a magic class.¡± For a moment, I hesitated. Her words stirred up a deep desire within me. I saw myself on the throne of a dark castle, its spires piercing the crimson sky like obsidian spears. Armies of demons bowed before me, their forms twisted and beautiful, each one bound to my will. It was intoxicating. Addictive. But it wasn¡¯t me. My destiny wasn''t hers to decide. ¡°Sorry, lady,¡± I pulled my hand away with a grin and held up my index finger straight to her face. ¡°Rule number 1. Personal space. Hands off the merchandise." I added another finger, giving her my best ''you''ve been rejected'' smirk. "Rule number 2. You obviously don''t know who I am if you think mere concepts like fate or destiny can stop me.¡± That got her. Her seductive smile slipped; her perfect composure shattered. She wasn¡¯t used to players who didn''t follow her script. I enjoyed the last moments of her confusion before yanking the VR headset from my head. The game faded, leaving me back in my dimly lit basement. Here, I was greeted by the familiar hum of fans and the greenish glow of my monitors. It was time to get to work. Lines of code streamed across the monitor as I decompiled the game¡¯s executable file. Some might call it cheating, but hey, if they didn''t want me picking Dark Knight, they shouldn''t have put it in the game. Besides, the real fun wasn''t just playing the game. It was breaking it. Found it. try { bool eligible = check_eligible(User) ; if (eligible) { cout << "Class Selected : " + User.class ; } else { throw (eligible); } } catch (int myNum) { cout << "Denied"; } This was the block of code blocking me from selecting the Dark Knight. How amateur. I grinned. They hadn¡¯t even implemented anti-cheat. This was too easy. My fingers glided across the keyboard, replacing the check with a continue instruction. This elementary trick told the program to do nothing when it encountered that block of code. The block would be skipped, and the Dark Knight would be mine. A few more keystrokes and the patch was compiled into a DLL, ready to be inserted into the game¡¯s running process. Their ''destiny'' was about to meet my memory injection. I leaned back, the glow of the screen reflecting off my glasses as I admired my work. The lines of code blurred into a satisfying haze of victory. Maybe I really was a genius. But then something caught my eye. A folder buried deep in the game¡¯s assets, hidden beneath layers of encryption. It had been well hidden. A lesser-trained eye might not have spotted it. But I wasn¡¯t just anyone. The folder was labeled ¡°Secret Classes¡±. I was intrigued and couldn¡¯t resist clicking it. Inside was a list of one-of-a-kind classes. A collection of legendary roles that would shape the very story of the game. Each description read like a prophecy, complete with cryptic requirements and warnings.
The Demon King, destined to lead hell''s armies.
The Doomsinger, whose voice would herald the end times.
The Flame Monarch, born to burn the old world away.
The Goddess of Death, The Sky Knight, The --
Okay, enough. Maybe it was my Gen Z attention span, but my eyes glazed over as I scrolled through the increasingly dramatic descriptions. Then one entry caught my eye. Knight of the Night, or Night¡¯s Knight. I clicked the description:
The chosen warrior of legend, destined to defeat God and return night to the lands.
My heart skipped a beat. Like the Dark Knight, it promised power wrapped in shadow. But this was something transcendent. A class shrouded in prophecy. Exclusive. Legendary. The chosen one... Yeah. This had my name written all over it. Sure, maybe the system didn''t think my stats were a good match for it or whatever. But sometimes, passion was more important than practicality. I''ll figure out the details later. I always liked a challenge. A deeper look at the class revealed insane requirements. Level 99 in a warrior or knight-type class and a brutal quest chain. But I wasn¡¯t interested in grinding for months to meet those requirements. I had another plan. If I could spoof the network packets, and switch the class ID to match the Night¡¯s Knight, I might be able to convince the game servers to select this as my opening class. The plan took shape in my mind. I cracked my knuckles, then got to work. Packet sniffing showed the class selection was a simple HTTP POST request. No encryption, no token validation, not even a basic checksum. Amateurs. I isolated the class ID parameter and started crafting my own request. They probably thought hiding the legendary classes would be enough security. Rookie mistake. Back in the VR, I loaded the game, my heart racing as the connection synced with the server.
Class selected: Knight of the Night
Success! The woman was still there, but now her sultry confidence was gone, replaced with a look of shock that made my inner troll smile. ¡°What¡­ how¡­? That¡¯s impossible.¡± She hissed. I stretched lazily, letting a smirk play at the corners of my mouth. "Weird, right? Just kept clicking and suddenly¡­" I spread my hands innocently. "Maybe it''s a feature?" A boldfaced lie, but I knew how this game was played. Never admit your guilt. "Impossible. That class was hidden." Her face contorted, elegant features twisting with rage. One perfectly manicured hand clenched at her side. "Just what did you do?" "Sounds like a QA problem to me." I examined my nails with exaggerated disinterest. "Have you considered hiring better testers? Or maybe, I don''t know, actually testing your own game?" "You¡ª" She caught herself, regaining her composure. Her lips curled into a cold smile. "Such a waste. You could have been the strongest Demon King in history, and instead..." Her voice dripped with disgust. "You chose to be a mediocre knight. Why?" ... It was a good question. ¡°I only play knights.¡± The real answer was deeper, buried somewhere between childhood dreams and a tortured past. But she didn''t need my life story. Sometimes the simple answer works best. ¡°Enjoy your hollow victory while it lasts.¡± Her voice turned to ice. ¡°Do you really think wearing his armor makes you the Night''s Knight? That a title alone grants you his power?¡± Before I could respond, she gave a final sigh before fading away. ¡°It was never meant to be you.¡± Her final words stung more than they should have. The words echoed in the silence, and something stirred in my chest. Not just defiance, but certainty. For a moment, I was that kid again, surrounded by voices saying I''d never amount to anything. The system, that woman ¡­ even that man¡­ they all thought they knew what I should be. But that was then. "Maybe not," I said to the empty room. But I¡¯ll show them. I¡¯ll show them all. I set about naming my avatar. Noctus Equitus, the Knight of the Night. Chapter 2: Welcome to Lumindarael
In the beginning, 12 warriors of light gathered to battle an ancient kingdom. After many trials and tribulations, blah, blah
Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip I mashed through the introduction, eager to get straight to the action. Rule number 1 Never start your story with exposition. It¡¯s just boring. The X army defeated the Y army leading to the formation of Z kingdom. Heard it all before. Rule number 2 If I wanted to read, I¡¯d pick up a novel. Skip the text and lets get to it. No, I don''t need a tutorial on how to walk or look around, thank you very much. Just let me at the monsters already!
The text faded, and suddenly, I was there. The first thing that hit me was the unbearable heat¡ªlike opening an oven door, but the oven was the size of a planet. The sun glared down, so bright it hurt to keep my eyes open. Sand stretched in every direction for as long as the eye could see. The entire area was devoid of life. Great. A desert start. Could be worse, at least it''s not a snow or lava start. I felt a heavy weight on my back and collapsed to my knees. I tried to take a step forward, but my legs wouldn''t budge and struggling only sank me deeper into the sand. I managed to lift my arm but the movement sent me off-balance, and I toppled over like a felled tree. Face-first into the sand. Gritty sand filled my mouth, tasting like a mouthful of hot beach. I spat and sputtered, but my tongue felt like sandpaper. Note to self: face-planting in a desert is NOT the optimal start to an epic adventure.
Encumbered
Your current strength and levels are insufficient to equip this armor set
I glanced at myself. The Nightsky set: a legendary armor gifted to the Night¡¯s Knight. Its black metallic sheen, etched with ancient runes was a beauty to behold. A masterpiece of craftmanship that any knight would kill for. Too bad it was too heavy to actually, you know, use. I pulled up my stat screen.
Name: Noctus Equitus
Base Class: N/A
Race : Human
Elemental Affiliation: Dark
Advanced Class: Knight of the Night
Level : 1
Talents
STR: F (Years of keyboard warfare doesn''t build muscle)
INT: SSS++ (System Warning: Anomalous Value Detected)
CON: D (Too many energy drinks, not enough sleep)
DEX : C (Fast typing doesn''t translate to combat reflexes)
Main Stats
HP: 100/100
MP: 99/99
ATK: 10
M.ATK: 70
R.ATK: 14
DEF: 10
M.DEF: 50
I squinted at the screens. No base class. Almost certainly a consequence of my exploits. But I wondered what the implications of that were. Usually, you carry over skills when upgrading from base to advanced class. But if I didn¡¯t have a base class, was I missing out on a whole class worth of skills? I sighed. Should have been more careful with this. I inspected the rest of my stats. Talents. This must have been what the lady was referring to. They seemed to be a reflection of my real-life self. SSS++ INT. Yup, totally me. On the other hand, F Str? Surely that¡¯s an exaggeration. Memories of training sessions with that man flashed across my mind.
¡°Child, in our business, it¡¯s important to have both a strong body and mind.¡± ¡°But why sir? Can¡¯t I just hack them instead?¡± ¡°You can¡¯t solve everything with computers. Now let¡¯s start with some push-ups. Show me what you got.¡± I groaned. Push-ups. Surely, I could manage one measly push-up. "Down on the ground, arms extended. Now lower yourself slowly..." I lowered myself to the ground. So far, so good. "Now push back up!" I pushed. And pushed. And pushed some more. My arms trembled with the effort. Sweat rolled down my forehead but the ground remained stubbornly close to my face. I had risen about two inches when my arms gave out. I dropped to the ground, landing with an undignified "oof!" "Alright, alright. Maybe we need to start with something a bit... easier. How about we work on your stamina instead? A nice, gentle jog around the block." Five minutes later, I was sprawled on the ground, wheezing like an asthmatic bulldog. "You know, child, in all my years of training, I''ve never seen anyone sweat so much from walking to the mailbox and back." ¡°Am I really that bad sir?¡± ¡°¡­ You can always hire a goon.¡±
¡­ Ok. Maybe an F is justified. A pang of regret welled up inside me as I examined the rest of my stats. With my absurdly high INT and M.ATK, I would have been a great mage. Maybe I should have listened to the lady. But that regret quickly faded away. Nah. I always play knight. How about hacking my stats? I pulled up my cheat engine and attached it to the game process. First step, find the memory address for that cursed F rank strength. "Let''s see... stats are probably stored as integers internally. F rank would be 0, E would be 1..." I muttered, setting up the scan parameters. Initial value search: 0. [Memory Scan Results: 1,847 addresses found] Too many. I flexed my fingers and channeled some mana, watching my MP bar drop. Perfect. Now to filter for unchanged values since my strength shouldn''t have moved. [Results filtered: 126 addresses] Better. I picked the most likely address based on memory region, 0x7FFE2B4C8D60, and tried changing it to 5. Nothing. Tried the next one. Still nothing. After a dozen attempts, my strength stat continued to mock me with that unchanging F. I shrugged my shoulders. Of course, they''re not that amateur. Stats are probably server-side with client-side display only. Grimacing, I forced myself back up and fumbled with the buckles, removing my armor pieces one by one, until they hit the ground with a dull thunk. My shoulders instantly felt lighter. I rolled my neck, reveling in the newfound freedom of movement. After a few moments, the armor pieces disappeared into my extradimensional inventory. Convenient. I liked that. I shuddered to imagine having to lunge around carrying all that weight otherwise. Or even worse, having to abandon a legendary set of armor in the middle of nowhere.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. My gaze then fell upon the sword at my side - the one piece of equipment that hadn''t tried to turn me into a human paperweight. The Night Sky Blade. Even lying innocently on the sand, it emanated an aura of power. I reached out, wrapping my fingers around its hilt. Unlike the armor, the sword seemed to have no stat requirements. As I lifted it, its jet-black surface caught the harsh desert sun and absorbed every single ounce of light that fell upon it. It was a weapon that practically pulsed with latent darkness. I couldn''t help but grin. My inner edgelord was dancing with glee. Then, from the corner of my eyes, I spotted a strange movement. An emaciated man dressed in tattered robes stumbled towards me. His face was hollowed and drained of life. But, the most striking thing was the pale-yellow glow emitted from his skin. "It hurts.... It hurts... please make it stop." Each word seemed to physically pain him, like speaking itself was tearing him apart. His body jerked and spasmed, joints bending in impossible angles. The glow beneath his skin pulsed in rhythm with his movements, as if something inside was counting down. Then his skin began to split, light flowing from the cracks like lava from a volcano. His scream cut off mid-breath, replaced by a sound like breaking glass. Where his eyes had been, there were now just points of burning light, so bright they left afterimages when he moved. He crossed the distance between us faster in the blink of an eye, leaving trails of light in the air. I raised my sword just in time. The force of his strike sent vibrations through my sword arm, numbing my fingers. His strength felt wrong, savage, like fighting a beast rather than human. I sidestepped his next strike and brought my blade down in a desperate swing. The counterstrike caught him in the shoulder but the wound leaked light instead of blood. It wasn''t enough. The sword got stuck in his bones, refusing to cut all the way through. My strength was too low. Damn. The man let out another screech, unaffected by the sword embedded in his flesh. His free arm swung wildly, barely missing my head. I gritted my teeth and focused, using all my strength to pull my blade free. He thrashed harder. He was becoming more erratic, more dangerous. In a contest of pure strength, he would be the victor.
Light Zombie
Level: 30
Threat Level: Extreme for current level
Status: Light-Corrupted
A human twisted by overwhelming light exposure. Nothing remains, only a vessel of burning radiance. Highly aggressive, unnaturally strong, and completely beyond salvation
New Quest: Defeat the Light Zombie
Priority: Urgent
Warning: Failure may result in death
Level 30?! I did a double-take at the floating text. Wasn¡¯t this a bit too difficult for a tutorial battle? What kind of sadistic game design was this? Most games started you off fighting level 1 rats or maybe level 3 slimes if they were feeling spicy. But no, here I was, fresh spawn, getting thrown at a monster that could probably sneeze me to death. It felt unfair, I haven¡¯t even figured out how to use my skills yet. "This has to be a mistake," I muttered, dodging another swipe of those light-infused claws. "Or maybe it''s one of those scripted battles where you''re supposed to lose?" No, the pain from that last hit felt real enough. This wasn¡¯t that kind of game. My brain kicked into overdrive. Think. THINK. I ran through potential scenarios: - Physical combat? With F-rank strength, I''d have better luck arm-wrestling a mountain. - Running away? My cardio stats were probably in the negative. - Magic? I had an SSS++ Intelligence stat. That had to count for something. In most games, high INT meant magical prowess. Magic had to be the answer ... Just one problem. I''m a knight. They don¡¯t learn spells. They hit things with pointy metal sticks. Dammit. Why do I always do this to myself? This would have been easy if I had selected a magic class. Yet, I selected the hard path in the name of ''coolness''. That''s what made it fun though. I tried to reassure myself. I thought back to the NSGNSNCNONENNENBB (No Sphere Grid, No Summons, No Customize, No Overdrive, No Escape, No No Encounter, No Blitz Ball) challenge I completed recently on that other RPG. It was tough, borderline impossible, but when I finally succeeded, the adoration of the Internet made it all worth it. I smiled to myself. One of three people in the world to complete that challenge. I turned towards the monster. Alright, looked like this was going to be one of those runs. Let''s do this! The man-monster was fast approaching me again, his claws ready to strike. I pointed my sword at him and yelled ¡°Fireball¡±. Reality decelerated to a glacial pace. The sun¡¯s rays reflected off my blade, making it shine with a brilliant brightness. And then ¡­ Nothing happened. The zombie''s blow struck and knocked me off balance. ¡°Argg¡± I moaned. Naturally. What was I expecting? I suddenly wished that I hadn¡¯t skipped the tutorial. Come on. I focused my thoughts. There has to be some kind of menu, right? Every game has a menu. The moment I thought this, a blue translucent panel materialized in my field of vision.
Skills
Found it, I smiled to myself. With a thought, I mentally selected it and the menu expanded out. I was disappointed. Except for a single skill, the menu was empty. ¡°Tch,¡± I grinded my teeth. But when I took another look at the skill, my frustration disappeared. This looked useful.
Skills
Spellblade Channel mana to imbue your weapon with an elemental spell
Don¡¯t I hate spellcasting? Nope. What I detest is cowardly spellcasters hiding in the backline. Sword and Sorcery, that¡¯s hella cool. And so, I activated it.
Spellblade
I could feel it. Mana flowed from my very core to my blade. Dark flames licked up the length of the sword. I raised the blade and brought it down in a sweeping, deliberate arc. The flames surged forward, consuming the zombie in a fiery vortex. His form twisted and squirmed in the dark fire. His screeches filled the air as the light was snuffed out from his body. Within moments, there was nothing left of him but ash, carried away by the dry desert wind.
Level up
Name: Noctus Equitus
Level : 5
Main Stats
HP: 11/135 (+35)
MP: 23/130 (+31)
ATK: 12 (+2)
M.ATK: 90 (+20)
R.ATK: 18 (+4)
DEF: 14 (+4)
M.DEF: 60 (+10)
I stared at my status window, trying to make sense of these numbers through the post-battle exhaustion. Four levels from one fight? Usually, I''d be dancing around celebrating that kind of exp gain, but right now I was too busy trying not to die. The fight had taken a lot out of me and I barely had any HP or MP left. My vision blurred as blue notification windows popped up one after another. Oh great, more things to read while I''m trying not to pass out.
Quest completed
Gained Skill: Inspect
Inspect: Inspect an item to learn more about it
I stared at the floating notification, waiting for something more impressive to appear. Surely this couldn''t be it. Inspect? I had been hoping to gain a skill with a little more grandiose. Something like "Soulrend" or "Shadow Strike" or even "The Blackest Night". But no, I got... Inspect. I mean, what was I supposed to do with this? Go around examining things and saying, "Ah yes, this sand is made of sand"? Or maybe I''d discover the groundbreaking fact that my sword is, in fact, sharp. I sighed. Maybe if I inspect things hard enough, I''ll bore my enemies to death with unnecessarily detailed observations. "Beware, foul creatures! For I shall describe you... to death!" My laughter died in my throat as the memory of the creature''s transformation flashed through my mind. The way his skin had split apart. The moment his eyes had burned away, replaced by those points of searing brightness. They had felt viscerally, horrifyingly real. Was this what awaited the inhabitants of this world? To be slowly consumed from within by that burning light until nothing remained but a hollow shell of radiance and pain? The thought of that man''s final moments, of his desperate plea - "It hurts... please make it stop" - sent a chill down my spine despite the desert heat. And more disturbing still... could the same fate await me? I shook my head, trying to dispel the encroaching sense of dread. Whatever that thing was, it was dead now. I''d made sure of that. Suddenly, a scream pierced the air, raw, desperate, and terrifyingly human. Chapter 3: Ada ¡°Nooooo!¡± A woman appeared on the edge of my vision, rushing towards me. No, her target was not me but the remains of the man-monster I slayed. Upon reaching the ashes, she dropped to her knees, one hand hovering over them like she was afraid to touch. "Elijah...." His name escaped her lips between ragged breaths. ¡°You promised..." A sob ripped the rest of her words away. She reached out to touch the ashes but her fingers jerked back as if burned. She closed her eyes and forced her hands to grab the ashes, creating a sizzling sound as the heat bit her skin. " Together ...¡± She muttered as the ashes sifted through her trembling fingers. ¡°"We were supposed to be together forever." "That was him, wasn''t it?" She looked up at me, her face tightened with something between anger and desperation. "You killed him." Her hand clenched in the ashes. "It was supposed to be me. How could you¡­" I shifted my weight. This scenario was making me uncomfortable and I was unsure of what to do. Should I apologize? Or maybe even ¡­ ¡°Finish the job, never leave loose ends.¡± A voice echoed in my mind. For a moment, my grip on my sword tightened, but I quickly banished the thought. No, I¡¯m a knight, not a murderhobo. I took another look at her and wished I hadn''t. This was the part where I''d usually hit ESC to skip the sad NPC backstory. Pull up the dialogue options, pick whatever gave the best rewards, and move on to the next quest marker. Simple, clean, and efficient. But my fingers kept twitching for a keyboard that wasn''t there. No menu. No dialogue options. No convenient way to distance myself from what was happening. Just a woman kneeling in the ashes of someone she''d loved, her grief as raw and real as the desert heat burning against my skin. I tried to focus on the technical stuff instead. The way her character model''s tears caught the light. The animation rigging that made her hands tremble. The voice acting that made her sound so... human. Except that kind of clinical analysis fell apart when you were standing close enough to see someone''s world ending. When you could watch hope dying in real-time, reflected in eyes that looked too detailed, too alive to be just another bunch of polygons and shaders. Games weren''t supposed to make you feel like this. They weren''t supposed to make your chest tight watching someone fall apart in front of you. But here I was, feeling like the villain in someone else''s story. I swallowed hard before finally saying, ¡°he wasn¡¯t human anymore. I had to defend myself¡± She didn''t respond but instead kept staring at the ashes slipping through her fingers. I waited, giving her time to find her words. ¡°I know¡­¡± she admitted. Her voice was rough from crying. "The light poisoning... we knew what was coming." Her fingers tightened around another handful of ashes, holding on like she could keep some part of him from blowing away. "I promised to stay with him through it all, but he..." She clutched at a golden locket hanging from her neck, leaving ashen fingerprints on its surface. "He chose for both of us." The words came out bitter like they''d been sitting in her heart too long. "Said he wouldn''t let me watch him turn into one of those... things." Light poisoning? It sounded almost ridiculous, being poisoned by light itself. But after what I''d just seen... I wanted to ask her more about light poisoning but watching her kneel there in the remains of her world, I swallowed them back. It did not seem like an appropriate time for questions. Instead, I offered her solitude. Time passed as I stood beside her, watching the desert winds carry the ashes away piece by piece. Eventually, her breathing steadied and she lifted her tear-streaked face. "Thank you for staying with me,¡± Her voice was quieter. ¡°Not many would have.¡± She studied me for a moment. ¡°Are you an exile as well?¡± I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m not from around here¡± Ada''s eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of curiosity on her face. "A traveler, then? You''re a long way from... well, anywhere." She glanced at my battered state. "You look half-dead on your feet," she said. "And these wastes... they''re not kind to the unprepared. I know better than most what happens to people alone out here." "Yeah," I replied. As the adrenaline of the fight wore off, I became increasingly aware of my exhaustion and injuries. "Is there anywhere to rest nearby?" She seemed to mull this over, her gaze drifting to the horizon. After a moment, she straightened up, decision made. "Well, the nearest town is Caelivitas, but it''s quite a trek through unforgiving terrain." She paused, studying me. "But if it''s a haven you seek, we have a camp nearby. It''s not much, but it''s safe... relatively speaking." ¡°Thank you, I appreciate it¡± She nodded, wiping the last traces of ash from her hands. "Follow me," she said, turning to lead the way. "The camp isn''t far, but we''ll need to be careful."
New Quest: Escort Ada to base
Priority: Medium
The desert stretched endlessly before us as the sun continued to burn bright.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Status Effect: Heat Exhaustion
HP Regen reduced to 0%
I fell into step behind Ada, watching how she moved, each step deliberate, testing the ground before committing her weight. "Keep to my footsteps exactly," she warned, not looking back. "The sand isn''t always as solid as it seems. One wrong step and you''ll sink knee-deep, if you''re lucky." I tried to mirror her movements. Each step through the loose sand felt like wading through molasses. "So," I ventured, trying to distract myself from my burning muscles, "you mentioned you''re exiles?" Ada''s pace didn''t falter, but her shoulders tensed slightly. "Most of us are. Some by choice, others..." She gestured vaguely at the wasteland around us. "The Church isn''t kind to those who show signs of light poisoning. At best, you¡¯ll end up as a beggar on the streets. At worst¡­ ''" She shook her head but did not complete her sentence. Light poisoning again. The question that had been nagging at me finally burst forth. "So, what exactly is light poisoning?" She stopped in her tracks, turning to face me with surprise. ¡°You... don''t know about light poisoning?¡± I shook my head. "You really are from far away, aren''t you?" Ada resumed walking, her pace a bit slower now. "To be honest, we''re not entirely sure what it is. The church has a simple explanation, of course. They call it divine punishment. A curse that turns sinners into monsters." A bitter smile crossed her face. "Convenient, isn''t it? Blame the victims for ''straying from the light.''" "But you don''t believe that," I said. It wasn''t a question. "What I believe..." She glanced up at the merciless sun above us. "What we''ve seen is that the sun makes it worse. Those cursed... they change faster when exposed." She gestured at the barren landscape around us. "This used to be grassland, you know. Green as far as the eye could see. Now look at it. It''s like the light is consuming everything it touches." I absorbed this information. "Is there a cure to light poisoning?" A bitter laugh escaped her. "We¡¯ve tried plenty. But once afflicted, the only known cure ¡­ is death." She cut herself off abruptly. "Hold up." Her arm shot out, blocking my path. A glint in the distance caught my eye, something metallic half-buried in the sand. My gamer brain screamed treasure and I started to walk towards it.
Warning: Unknown anomaly detected
"Stop." Ada''s hand shot out, gripping my arm. "Don''t look too long," she said quietly. "The light plays tricks out here. Makes you see things you think you want." Her fingers tightened. "Things that you desire, things that you remind of home. That''s how they get you." The warning notification pulsed red in my vision, but I couldn''t look away from that gleam. It seemed to shift, becoming whatever, I wanted most ¨C a legendary weapon, a rare artifact, a pile of gold... each possibility more tempting than the last. "They?" A haunting screech shattered the illusion. In the distance, a shambling figure emerged from behind a dune, its skin gleaming like polished metal in the sun. Yellow light poured from its eyes and mouth, and I realized with horror that the glint I''d been drawn to wasn''t treasure at all.
Warning: Light Zombie detected
Threat Level: Severe
Recommended action: Avoid combat
"Down," Ada hissed, pulling me behind a rock formation. "Let it pass. Fighting attracts others." We pressed ourselves against the stone, barely breathing. The creature''s footsteps crunched closer, accompanied by a sound like wind chimes. I gripped my sword but I was exhausted. After the last fight, I wasn''t sure I could take another one. Ada noticed my white-knuckled grip and shook her head. "Save your strength," she whispered. "The camp isn''t far now, but we''ll need to make a run for it once it passes." The footsteps grew louder. In response, Ada¡¯s hand dipped into a pouch at her waist, withdrawing a handful of crystalline dust. "Stay still."
Cloak of Light
She threw the crystals in the air, letting the dust cover us. As they fell, they caught the sunlight and bent it. The air around us shimmered like a heat haze, and suddenly the world beyond our little bubble looked slightly off-kilter as if we were viewing it through warped glass. "Light bends light," Ada explained. "They can¡¯t detect us like this."
Status Effect: Invisibility
Through the magical distortion, I could see the creature pause barely three meters from our hiding spot. This close, I could see the details I wished I couldn''t. Its movements were wrong and awkward. With each step, hairline fractures spread across its surface, light seeping through before its skin sealed itself again. I could hear a grinding sound, like glass against glass, as it moved. But what hit me hardest wasn''t the horror of what it had become, but the glimpses of what it used to be. A wedding ring, grown over with crystal was still visible on its finger. A name tag, warped but readable, fused into its chest. Its head swiveled, searching. Yellow light leaked from its mouth as it tasted the air. Ada''s hand tightened on my arm. Small crystals grew and shattered around its feet with each movement, creating that wind chime sound I''d heard earlier. They caught the sunlight and scattered it, sending rainbow refractions dancing across the rocks. I found myself mesmerized by the display, my eyes drawn to the hypnotic pattern of light and crystal. Ada''s elbow dug sharply into my ribs. "Don''t stare," she mouthed silently. "The light... it pulls you in." I forced my gaze down, focusing on the sand between my feet. Even then, I could feel it, a gentle tugging sensation at the edges of my mind, like hooks made of light trying to draw my attention back. Finally, agonizingly, the creature turned away. We waited until its footsteps faded before Ada released her grip on my arm. "Clear," she said, brushing the remaining crystal residue from her clothes. "Let¡¯s go." We burst from our hiding spot, feet pounding against the sand. "Stay close," she ordered. "And whatever happens, don''t stop." More screeches echoed behind us, but Ada didn''t look back. "Almost there," she called. "Just a little further." My lungs were on fire. Each step felt heavier than the last. Just when I thought I couldn''t take another step, Ada veered sharply left, revealing a narrow crevice in a rock face I hadn''t even noticed. "In!" she commanded, practically shoving me through the opening. We tumbled into blessed darkness, the temperature dropping immediately. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the shapes of crude furniture. "Welcome," Ada said, still catching her breath, "to our humble haven." Chapter 4: Home The cave''s cool interior was a stark contrast to the desert heat. Makeshift furnishings were scattered around the chamber: crates repurposed as tables; threadbare blankets spread over uneven stone to create sleeping areas. "The light zombies, they don''t enter the dark. We''re safe here." Ada said. I nodded in acknowledgment. A small altar in the corner caught my eye. Wilted flowers were scattered around the personal trinkets that adorned its surface: a tarnished locket, a broken wooden toy, and a cracked mirror. An old man lay on a straw bed. Yellow veins threaded across his skin like cracks in porcelain, pulsing with each rattling breath. His fingers twitched against the blanket, catching and releasing the fabric like he was trying to hold onto something slipping away. Beside him, a young boy sat cross-legged. His clothes had many patches, but his eyes were sharp as he ground herbs with practiced hands. He looked up when we came in. ¡°Ada, you¡¯re back!¡± the boy greeted her, jumping to his feet. "There''s someone else?" "It''s alright, Eli," Ada''s voice came from behind me. "He''s a traveler. I''ve brought him here to rest." Eli nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving me. I noticed his hands hadn''t stopped grinding the herbs even as he watched me - the kind of unconscious skill that comes from endless repetition. "Hello," I said softly. "I''m¡ª" A violent coughing fit from the old man cut me off. Eli was with him in an instant. He supported the old man''s head gently, helping him take small sips between coughs. The old man''s eyes fluttered open. "Elijah?" he rasped, raising a trembling hand at Ada. "Did you... find Elijah?" Ada''s face tightened, a flicker of pain crossing her features before she schooled them into a neutral expression. "He''s gone," she said softly, moving to the old man''s side. She knelt beside him, taking his outstretched hand in hers. Ada turned to me. "There used to be more of us," she explained, her voice low. "But one by one, they succumbed to the curse. Now there''s just the three of us left." I opened my mouth, looking for the right words, but found none. Instead, I watched as Ada moved to a makeshift kitchen and pulled out various cuts of dried meat and withered vegetables. ¡°You must be hungry. Would you like something to eat?¡± she asked. I was about to politely decline, but I saw my HP at 9%, not ideal conditions for whatever might come next. It was best to recuperate and so I nodded. As Ada prepared the meal, I noticed more details about the cave. Chalk marks on the walls caught my attention - tallies, perhaps? Or a calendar? Next to them were crude drawings that could only have been made by a child. Scenes of people standing under the sky. Had Eli drawn these, or were they left by others who had passed through? The young boy inched closer to me. "I''m Eli," he said. "Are you sick too?" Before I could answer, Ada interjected gently, "Eli, remember what we talked about? It''s not polite to ask such questions." Eli''s face fell. "Sorry, Ada. I just thought... maybe he was like us." An aromatic blend of herbs and spices filled the room as Ada neared completion. ¡°Ada, can I help,¡± Eli asked, bouncing on his toes. Ada''s face softened. "Sure, Eli. Why don''t you set out the plates?" Soon, Ada was portioning out the meal onto three mismatched plates. The care she took in making sure I got the best pieces didn''t escape my notice. "Eat," Ada said, handing me a plate. "I hope it¡¯s to your taste."The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I took a tentative bite. The meat was tough but flavourful, the vegetables tender and earthy. It was simple food, but Ada¡¯s kindness made it taste like a feast and I could feel my HP recovering. We ate in silence for a while, the only sounds were the scrape of utensils on plates and the old man''s labored breathing.
Status Effect: Well Fed
HP Recovery Rate increased by 20%
Temporary bonus to CON
Finally, Eli broke the silence. "Are you going to stay with us, mister?" Eli asked, his eyes wide with hope. "I could show you my mushroom patch! It''s not much, but Ada says I have a talent for finding the ones that glow in the dark corners." I shook my head, ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m just passing through¡± Eli''s face fell, but he nodded. "Oh okay, I just thought... maybe..." Ada reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately. "It¡¯s okay little one. You still have me.¡± After the meal, Ada gathered vials of red and blue liquid from a cupboard. "Here, take these health and mana potions. We...don''t need them anymore." She said as she held out the vials.
Item Obtained: Basic Health Potion x3
Item Obtained: Basic Mana Potion x3
"Thank you," I said as I accepted the potions, trying not to think about why they had extras. "Liquid candy! You¡¯ll like those.¡± Eli declared, a spark of childish enthusiasm breaking through. ¡°I like the red ones, they make my body lighter.¡± He thought for a moment before adding, ¡°the blue ones are good too. They give me more energy.¡± Suddenly, the old man began to cough violently, blood splattering his chin. "Ada, its time, please..." he wheezed. What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Ada''s face set in grim determination as she pulled out a dagger from a sheath at her waist. "Eli," Ada''s voice was steady. "The herbs, please." Without hesitation, Eli retrieved a small pouch from his workstation. How many times had he performed this ritual? I lurched forward, instinctively trying to stop her. This wasn''t right. But Eli''s small hands grabbed my arm with surprising strength. "It''s okay, mister," he said, his voice eerily calm. "He''s reuniting with the God of Light." The old man''s breathing steadied as Eli administered the herbs. "Thank you," he whispered, eyes focusing on Ada with sudden clarity. "Tell Elijah... tell him I''m sorry I couldn''t wait..." His voice cracked. Ada knelt beside him, one hand gripping the dagger, the other smoothing his hair back like a mother comforting a child. "Close your eyes," she whispered.¡± Think of the good days. Think of how happy we all used to be.¡± The old man smiled faintly, eyes drifting shut. "Yes... I see them..." The sickening sound of the dagger plunging into flesh filled the cave, followed by Ada''s quiet sobs. I looked away, unable to bear the scene. Tears streamed down Ada''s face as she continued to stab the old man repeatedly. "We grant each other mercy when the time comes," she explained between sobs. "Better to visit the God of Light than to become a monster.¡± She paused for a moment in silent contemplation before adding ¡°Although I wonder if God would welcome cursed ones like us.¡± Throughout it all, Eli maintained his grip on my arm, but now I realized it wasn''t just to restrain me - he was trembling. Looking down, I saw tears running silently down his face, even as he maintained that eerily calm expression. Once the grim task was complete, she covered the body with a blanket. She pulled out her golden locket, clutching it tightly as she bowed her head in silent prayer. "May the God of Light grant you the peace we could not find in life," she whispered. Eli finally released my arm and moved to the altar I''d noticed earlier. He took the wilted flowers and replaced them with fresh ones from his herb collection. Then he carefully removed a ring from the old man''s finger and placed it among the other trinkets - another memory added to their grim collection. The solemn mood made me intensely uncomfortable, as though I had intruded into a private moment that wasn¡¯t mine to witness. I didn¡¯t belong here. ¡°I should probably go now.¡± My voice emerged as a hoarse whisper. "Thank you for the food. And for the potions, and..." The words tangled in my throat. What exactly was the proper etiquette for leaving someone''s home after watching them perform a mercy killing? Ada nodded, composing herself with visible effort. She pointed towards the cave entrance. "If you go east, you''ll reach Caelivitas. It might take a while, but you''ll get there eventually." She reached to her waist and pulled out a pouch of crystalline dust. ¡°Take this as well. It¡¯ll help you avoid the light zombies.¡± As she handed me the pouch, her sleeve rolled down, revealing glowing veins of yellow snaking up her arm. I couldn¡¯t help but stare at them. The pattern was different from the old man''s - less advanced, but unmistakably the same affliction. Our eyes met, and I knew she had caught my stare. Looking at her face ¨C the way her fingers unconsciously traced those yellow veins, the glance she shot at Eli, I connected the dots. She must have checked for new veins every day, the way the old man''s had spread before... And Eli... the way she was training him with the herbs, teaching him their recipes... I didn¡¯t want to think of what she was preparing him for. "Don''t worry," she said, tugging her sleeve back into place. The casual gesture felt rehearsed like she''d done it countless times before. "I still have time." I nodded, and with one last look at Ada and Eli, I took my leave. Chapter 5: The Night As I stepped out of the cave, the harsh sunlight assaulted my eyes. The weight of what I''d just witnessed pressed heavily on my mind. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. "Head east," I muttered to myself, recalling Ada''s directions.
Warning: Exposure to direct sunlight may cause negative status effects
Perfect. Just perfect. I dismissed the notification with an irritated wave. The system''s warnings were starting to feel less like helpful tips and more like someone pointing out the obvious while watching you drown. I squinted against the glare, searching for any landmark that might orient me. But all around me, there was only the relentless sameness of sky and sand. Frustration shot through me as I reached for a compass that wasn''t there. I flipped through my inventory: health potions that glowed red, mana potions that pulsed with blue light, an equipment set that helpfully informed me that I "lack sufficient STR to equip this item." But no compass. The irony wasn''t lost on me ¨C a legendary knight who couldn''t even wear his own armor. Some hero I was turning out to be. I let out a resigned sigh. Think, I commanded myself. What about a natural compass? As I wracked my brain, an uncomfortable memory surfaced.
¡°Child, it is time to test your survival skills.¡± That man stood before me in a forest clearing with the scent of pine surrounding us. ¡°What should you do if you¡¯re lost?¡± My fingers twitched towards my pocket. ¡°Turn on your GPS,¡± I replied, proud of my simple logical answer. That man shook his head and let out an audible sigh. ¡°How many times must we go through this.¡± He extended his calloused hand. ¡°Pass me your phone,¡± he commanded. I handed it over obediently, but couldn¡¯t help feeling an unease knotted in my stomach. Some part of me already knew what was coming. Crack. My smartphone met stone and my heart plummeted with it. I flinched at the sound, watching helplessly as pieces of glass scattered across the ground. I had just bought that phone. Three months of allowance saved up, carefully researching the best model within my budget. All that planning was reduced to shards on the forest floor. Last month it had been my gaming console. Before that, my wireless headphones. He always did this. "Oops," he said, voice devoid of remorse. His cold, indifferent eyes bored into mine. "My hand slipped. Now what?" I bit my lip, fighting back tears. I wouldn''t cry. Not again. He hated that, and said it was another weakness. "I don''t know, sir." I finally managed to stammer out. My sorrow was lost on that man. He didn''t care. Or maybe he cared too much, in his own harsh way. I''d seen his own phone once, an ancient flip phone that could barely send texts. "Technology fails," he''d said when I''d asked about it. "People fail. You must be ready for both." "How did the ancients do it?" I swallowed hard, searching through my encyclopedic knowledge. "The skies, sir." ¡°Explain¡± ¡°Polaris, also known as the north star. It¡¯s aligned with the north celestial pole, making it perfect for navigation. Ancient sailors used it to cross oceans. The Polynesians used the stars to find their way across the Pacific. The Arabs developed advanced astronomical navigation techniques during the Golden Age of Islam.¡± He raised an eyebrow, just slightly. He never showed approval openly, but I''d learned to read the tiny signs. "But it''s the middle of the day now." "The sun, sir. It rises in the east and sets in the west." I paused, then added, "Though that''s technically incorrect. The sun doesn''t actually move, the Earth''s rotation creates the illusion of solar movement across our sky."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. A faint smile touched his lips. "Save the astronomy lesson. Focus on what''s useful right now." I nodded, looking up at the sun filtering through the canopy. "You can use the sun''s position to determine direction. Even on cloudy days, you can sometimes tell by the brightness where the sun is. And there are other signs - moss growth on trees, wind patterns, terrain features..." ¡°Good. Now head east to escape.¡± And with that, he disappeared into the foliage. ¡°Wait sir, don¡¯t leave me here,¡± I cried out but the only response was the rustling of the trees. I was only seven.
I tilted my head back, peeking at the sky. The sun blazed overhead; it was noon. Perfect, if I could track its movement, I could determine my bearings. Sweat trickled down my back even as I celebrated my new revelation. Now I just needed to find a more comfortable place to observe the sun.
Status Effect: Heat Exposure
HP drain: -0.2 per minute
Recommended: Find shelter
The notification only confirmed what my body was already telling me. My shirt clung to my skin, soaked with sweat that instantly evaporated in the scorching air. Even breathing felt like inhaling fire. I wandered around for a while more and found a colossal boulder that rose from the sand ahead, casting a shadow that promised relief from the blistering heat. I stumbled toward it and slumped against the stone. The shade helped, but barely. Instead of burning alive, I was just slowly cooking.
Status Effect: Heat Exposure reduced
HP drain nullified
I leaned against the warmed stone, preparing myself for a long wait. My eyes noted the sun''s position, anticipating its gradual arc across the sky. Then, I heard a distant screech in the air. I couldn¡¯t see anything yet but to be safe, I pulled out the small pouch of crystalline dust Ada had given me. My hands trembled slightly as I pinched some between my fingers, remembering how she''d used it previously. I took a deep breath and tossed the dust around me. The crystals caught the sunlight and scattered it, creating a shimmering dome. The world beyond warped and distorted.
Cloak of Light
Status Effect: Invisibility
This should keep me safe for a while. I tucked the pouch away carefully, rationing what remained. Something told me I''d need more of this dust before my journey was done. Now all that was left was to wait. And so I waited. I counted seconds, then minutes. I tried to remember old survival tricks for measuring time, watching the shadow of my hand against the sand, waiting for it to move even a fraction. But it never did. And I waited. My water supply dwindled. I rationed it carefully, taking tiny sips that barely wet my tongue. The heat made it hard to think and difficult to focus. And I waited. Hours seemed to pass, but the sun refused to dip. My sense of time warped under the constant brightness, but I was certain I had been sitting there for at least a day. An uneasiness crept into my mind. Something was wrong. No matter how long I sat there, the sun hadn¡¯t moved an inch. It was as if time had stopped. Then it hit me. In this land flooded with light, nightfall would never come.
New Class Quest: Restore the Night
I blinked at the notification, then blinked again. The text remained there as though it was mocking me. Restore the night? I almost laughed. Sure, why not? While I''m at it, maybe I could rearrange some mountains or perhaps drain the ocean. I mean, what kind of absurd quest was this? ''Restore the night'' - like it was some simple task, like finding someone''s lost pet or fetching a parcel. What was I supposed to do? Destroy the sun? Fight the God of Light himself? With my whopping F-rank strength and armor, I couldn¡¯t even wear? I pulled up the quest details, hoping for some hint of what I was supposed to do. But the game offered nothing else, no objectives, no waypoints, and no helpful NPC marked on a map. Just those three words that somehow managed to be both vague and overwhelming at the same time. Maybe this wasn''t just some random quest. Knight of the Night. That''s what I''d forced my way into becoming, wasn''t it? And now here I was, in a world drowning in light, being told to bring back the darkness. I wondered if the system had been trying to protect me from my stubbornness. After all, what use was a warrior of darkness in a world of light? I had to admit, it had a certain dramatic flair to it. The kind of quest you''d expect from a legendary class. Though I''d hoped my first major quest would be something more along the lines of ''slay the dragon'' rather than ''rewrite the laws of nature.'' The notification continued to hover, waiting for acknowledgment. I waved it away with a snort. First, I had to survive this desert. Then maybe I could worry about cosmic reformation. Chapter 6: The Holy Knight Time continued to pass, but without the sun''s movement, I lost all sense of its flow. Hours, days, weeks? It was impossible to tell. The very concept of a "day" had lost all meaning. Sleep became my only clock, each period of rest marking what I could only assume was another day gone by. Three times I''d slept, or maybe four, even that measure felt unreliable. Step after step, I trudged through the shifting sands, until my legs buckled, no longer able to support my weight. The sand burned against my face, but I couldn''t pull myself up. My eyes lost focus and it was easier to keep them closed.
Inflicted with severe exhaustion
HP will drain until rested
HP: 90/135
The notification flickered in my vision like a dying light. I watched the numbers tick down with a sort of detached fascination. Weird how death in games was always quick and dramatic - a sword through the heart, a critical hit, a boss''s ultimate attack. Not this slow, undignified crawl towards zero.
HP: 75/135
Some legendary knight I turned out to be. Couldn''t even make it past the tutorial area. That man would probably laugh if he could see me now, collapsed in the sand like a broken compass.
HP: 60/135
Was this really how it would end? Not even a heroic last stand or an epic boss battle. Just me, face-down in the sand, being slowly cooked alive by the very sun I was supposedly meant to challenge.
HP: 45/135
A bitter laugh escaped my cracked lips. The irony wasn''t lost on me - Knight of the Night, done in by a bad sunburn. Maybe they''d write it on my tombstone. If anyone ever found my body under all this sand.
HP: 35/135
So uncool. At least in most games, you got a dramatic death animation...
HP: 20/135
The numbers were starting to blur. Funny how even now, my brain was trying to calculate my remaining time based on the HP drain rate. Old habits die hard, I guess. Or maybe I was just dying hard.
HP: 10/135
Then, I thought I heard something¡ªhoofbeats, the soft clink of armor¡ª but at this stage, I couldn¡¯t tell if it was real or delirium. Shapes flickered in my peripheral vision, caravans and men riding horses. I wanted to call out, but my voice was lost, swallowed by the dry air. Then a voice cut through the haze. ¡°There¡¯s a man here,¡± someone said. The voice was distant, muffled, like a whisper from another world. ¡°He¡¯s clean. No signs of light poisoning.¡± The words barely registered as the world faded to black.
When I awoke, a raging headache hit me. The floor beneath me was soft and cool, nothing like the burning hot sands of the desert. I tried to open my eyes but found it excruciatingly painful and instead settled for rubbing my face as I tried to figure out where I was. I eventually realised I was lying on a soft silk cushion and that everything seemed to be vibrating slightly. No, wait ¡­ this sound was familiar. I was in a carriage. I forced my eyes open despite the pain and sat up, fighting the urge to vomit at the sudden movement. Across from me sat a knight with flowing golden hair. His armour shone bright, radiating a brilliant aura. He noticed my stirring and turned his gaze upon me.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Blessed are thee, for the God of Light¡¯s benevolence has guided this humble servant of his to thy aid. So great is his love for all of his children that he could not ignore thy plight. So, fear not the harshness of elements, for within this carriage, thou art safe. Fear not the trials of the desert, for within these walls, thou shall find succour¡± ¡°Err¡­. Thank you?¡± I stared at him with a puzzled look on my face, trying to make sense of his words. Seriously¡­ Was I supposed to understand what he just said? Upon seeing the confused look on my face, he gave a bright and gentle smile. As if trying to signal that he meant no harm. I rubbed my temples, trying to dispel the grogginess and regain my focus. ¡°Who are you?¡± I enquired. ¡°I am Solcaeli , humble servant of the Lord.¡± His voice was soothing as though he was reciting from scripture. ¡°I am Noctus, thanks for saving me¡±. I returned his smile, grateful for his assistance. ¡°It is my pleasure, Noctus. But true praise lies with the God of Light and his mercy. It is only by his will that this humble servant was allowed to find thee to spread his message of love and compassion.¡± I stared at him again, struggling to comprehend his words. In response, he gave a smile and uttered ¡°Worry not for pleasantries. Rest, regain thy strength. We will soon arrive in the city¡±. With that, he returned his focus to the large tome resting on his lap. The book itself was a work of art - bound in white leather that seemed to glow from within, its pages edged in gold that caught the light with each turn. His concentration was unyielding, leaving me to contemplate the odd situation in silence. The only breaks in his reading came when he would occasionally mouth certain passages, his lips moving in silent prayer. Each time he did, the ambient light in the carriage would pulse slightly, like a heartbeat of divine energy. The gentle sway of the carriage continued, almost hypnotic in its rhythm. Outside, I could hear the steady march of the armored feet of our escorts. The soft rustle of turning pages marked time like a metronome. The combination of sounds and movement made my eyelids heavy and I decided to take a rest. But just as I began to relax, a shrill scream tore through the air. ¡°A light zombie!¡± The carriage jolted to a stop, throwing me against the wall. My shoulders slammed into the wooden panels, sending a sharp pain through my already tired body. Outside, steel rang against steel, punctuated by screams. The sounds of combat were chaotic - the clash of weapons, the shouts of orders, the screams of the wounded all blending into a cacophony of violence. I glanced toward Solcaeli, who seemed utterly unbothered, still absorbed in his book. His calmness was unnerving, as though such disturbances were beneath him. The divine light continued to pulse around him in steady waves, unchanged by the chaos outside. If anything, his reading seemed more intense. But as the screams grew louder, he could no longer ignore them. A flicker of irritation crossed his face. He clicked his tongue and sighed, closing his book with deliberate care. ¡°It appears the Lord requires my service.¡± He rose with fluid grace and drew his sword. Divine light erupted from the blade, forcing me to shield my eyes. The magical density in the air became suffocating, like trying to breathe underwater.
Warning: Extreme magical pressure detected
Status Effect: Blind
Recommend immediate distance from energy source
By the time I could see again, he was already stepping out of the carriage. I scrambled after him, my heart pounding in my chest. The scene outside was chaotic. The knights had formed a defensive circle, their silver armor stained red with fresh blood. At the center prowled a figure that had once been a woman¡ªnow something else entirely. She had the same faint pale glow of light and lifeless eyes as the previous zombie. She moved with unnatural speed, her strikes precise and deadly. Another knight fell, his scream cut short by her strike, his armor splitting like paper beneath her corrupted strength. Then I saw it. A flash of gold against corrupted flesh, a locket swinging with each savage strike. For a moment, I couldn''t process what I was seeing. Didn''t want to process it. But there was no mistaking that pendant. Solcaeli joined the battle with a commanding presence. His voice carried across the battlefield, calm but assertive, ¡°Lord of Light, guide my hand.¡± He raised his sword.
Holy Slash
Divine Energy detected
Magical Density: S rank
Warning: Area effect spell incoming
Recommended Action: Shield eyes
I barely raised my arm in time. The world went white. Through my squinted eyes, I saw a radiant beam erupt from his blade, cutting through the air with a blinding flash. In a single strike, the light zombie was cleaved in two, her body disintegrating into dust before it even hit the ground. ¡°My brothers. May the Lord¡¯s light soothe your pain¡±
Holy Rain
Area Healing Effect Detected
Status Effects Cleansed
Divine Blessing Applied: Duration 1 hour
Droplets of light fell from the sky, enveloping the recovering knights. It was a gentle light that mended their flesh and bones. In mere moments, the battlefield was calm once more. When the last drop of light faded, only the bloodstains in the sand remained to suggest there had been a battle at all. And there, half-buried in the crimson-stained ground, lay the golden locket. I held it in my hand, feeling its weight. "I still have time." The words echoed in my head as I stared at the locket. My fingers trembled as I opened it. Inside, an inscription stared back at me: "Together Forever." Damn, it was her.
Obtained Golden Locket of Eternity: A locket from a couple who promised to always be together
Chapter 7: Socaeli A somber mood filled the air as the carriage continued on its journey. Sadness? Not really. I barely knew her. She was just someone I shared a meal with. So why did it feel like a blow? Like the cold shock you feel when a stranger gets hit by a car in front of you. Sudden, brutal, and over before you can even process it. My mind kept circling back to all those times I''d clicked through NPC death scenes without a second thought. Funny how different it felt when you''d eaten their cooking, when you''d accepted their kindness, when you''d watched them try to protect a child from the horror their world had become. I wondered what her final moments were like. Had she felt the change coming? Had she tried to get Eli somewhere safe first? Did she suffer through that bone-snapping transformation, or had it been quick? And Eli... what happened to him after she... after she... I took another look at the golden locket, turning it over in my hands. The metal was warm to the touch, almost alive. My fingers traced the intricate engravings on its surface ¡ªdelicate swirls and patterns as well as an emblem of two intertwined crescent moons. As I held the locket, I couldn¡¯t help but lament the irony of the whole situation. Ada and Elijah, bound by a promise that even light poisoning couldn''t break. Together forever, just... not in the way they''d hoped.
Inspect
Golden Locket of Eternity: Allows a loved one to teleport to your current location
I clenched the locket, realizing the potential of this. Teleportation. Fast travel without markers, emergency escapes, surprise tactical advantages... my mind raced with the possibilities. But that requirement. "A loved one." Three simple words that might as well have been asking for a unicorn that breathed rainbow fire. Must be nice, to have someone worth teleporting to. Yet another powerful item I couldn''t properly use. As these thoughts swirled in my mind, I became aware of Solcaeli''s sharp eyes upon me. His gaze seemed to pierce through my contemplation, bringing me back to the present moment. His eyes were directed at the locket in my hand. ¡°Mayhap she one of thine companions?¡± he asked. His question seemed casual but I could not help but noticed that his hand drifted to his sword, hovering right above it. I shook my head. ¡°No, not really. she was an acquaintance at best¡­ a stranger in the desert. But still, to see someone turn into ¡­ that. It¡¯s a bit shocking.¡± Something in my response must have satisfied him. Solcaeli relaxed his arm and regarded me with a calm steady gaze. ¡°Light poisoning is a reality of the world. A grievous thing, yes, but ''tis a fate we must learn to accept if we abandon the light.¡± ¡°What causes light poisoning?¡± I asked, wanting to understand more. ¡°A lack of faith.¡± His voice held the simple certainty of someone stating that water is wet. ¡°The benevolence of the lord of light shields all of his children. It is only through his grace that we can walk this world unscathed. But for those who stray from his light, his wrath is swift and the affliction of light poisoning doth follow.¡± His words carried the weight of doctrine, as if this was a truth burnt into his very soul. So this was what Ada meant. The church¡¯s explanation, a curse from a god¡­ Doesn¡¯t sound like a very compassionate god. But was there more to it than that? I wasn¡¯t a very religious person and found this hard to believe. Besides, Ada¡¯s theory about the sun was still stuck in my head. ¡°Could it be caused by overexposure to the sun?¡± The temperature in the carriage seemed to drop as Solcaeli''s serene expression hardened. "Lies," his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly as he spoke through gritted teeth. "Deceit spread by pagans to weaken thy faith. Heed not those words which distract thee from the light." I should have noticed the warning in his tone, the way his fingers drummed against his tome. But curiosity pushed me forward. "What about the night? How did it vanish from this world?" The change was instant. The holy knight''s face darkened like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. ¡°Thou dare speak such heresy in mine presence !¡± The tome slammed shut with a smash that made me flinch ¡°The night is naught but a myth. A foul fantasy whispered by the Demon King to corrupt the souls of men¡± I blinked, taken aback by his reaction. It had been an innocent question, but his response... Something deeper lurked beneath that anger, something that tasted of fear. Maybe that''s why I pressed on, despite every instinct screaming at me to stop.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Have you really never seen night time before? Who is the Demon King?¡± But that was a mistake. "ENOUGH!" Solcaeli roared, all pretense of serenity shattered. ¡°Shouldst thou persist in straying from the path of orthodoxy, then thou shall find no mercy from the lord of light¡± His hand moved to the hilt of his sword, gripping it with white-knuckled intensity. I froze, taken aback by his aggression. I may not have fully understood his words, but his threat was clear as day. The holy aura around him flared, radiating an intensity that threatened battle. His eyes, once calm and steady, now burned with an inner fire. The silence between us was thick and suffocating. A single wrong move would ignite a conflict.
WARNING: Combat Not Recommended
Threat Level: Catastrophic
You are severely under-leveled for this encounter. Survival chance: 0%
The system''s warning flashed red in my vision, as if even it was panicking. Not that I needed the warning. My gaming instincts were screaming loud enough already.
Name: Solcaeli Caelum
Base Class: Knight
Elemental Affiliation: Light
Advanced Class: ???
Level: ???
Combat Rating: ???
The dreaded question marks. In any game, that''s the universal symbol for ''run away, you fool.'' You don¡¯t mess with the question marks. It wouldn¡¯t be a fight. It was suicide with extra steps. But then, I didn¡¯t need the system to tell me this. I had witnessed his strength up close. The ease with which he had dispatched the light zombie, in not more than a single strike. This was not a man I wanted to antagonist. Besides, this man had saved me from the desert. I would feel ungrateful if I got into a conflict with him now. At least, that''s what I told myself. ¡°You¡¯re right¡± I relented. ¡°I¡¯ll speak no more of it.¡± Solcaeli studied me for a long moment. On ascertaining my compliance, he relaxed the grip on his sword and dimmed his aura. ¡°May thou never stray from the lord¡¯s light¡± he said curtly. The carriage was silent for the rest of the journey. The tension in the carriage slowly dissipated with the passing of time. Solcaeli returned to his quiet contemplation, occasionally muttering prayers under his breath. I, for my part, retreated into my own thoughts, mulling over everything I''d learned and experienced. The Light that blessed. The Light that cursed. The night that never was. The Demon King who whispered lies, or perhaps truths. Each revelation felt like another piece of a puzzle I couldn''t quite see. Hours passed and my brooding was interrupted by movement outside the window. The endless sea of sand was changing, yielding to stubborn signs of life. It started with sparse patches of desert shrubs. Cresosote bushes and white bursages that littered the desert floors. I was impressed they were able to cling to life even in the unforgiving sands. As we headed further, live continued to flourish. The shrubs dwindled, replaced with clusters of palm trees that grew by pools of water. Birds could be seen flying between trees, using this habitat to nest and forage. This oasis was truly the desert¡¯s jewel, supplying the waters of life that supported this ecosystem Finally, Solcaeli broke the silence. His earlier anger seemed to have faded, replaced by a serene expression as he gazed out at the changing landscape. "We draw nigh unto Caelivitas," he announced. A city came into view. It was a large city encircled by towering walls of stone and clay. Its high walls had been weathered by time and battered by the scorching sun. On top of the walls stood sentinels. Upon noticing the arrival of our caravan, they hastily opened the gates. ¡°It amazing. How does the city survive in the middle of a desert?" I asked "The grace of the Lord of Light provides. Ancient aqueducts, blessed by His divine power, bring water from oasis. It is His gift to the faithful." The carriage slowed as we approached the gates. I leaned out, eager for a better view, and was struck by the eerie sight that greeted me. Lining the entrance to the city were dozens of marble statues. They were uncanny, almost lifelike. Their expressions conveyed fear and sorrow, as if they were frozen in a moment of anguished lament. "Light poisoning," Solcaeli explained, noticing my gaze. "They were fortunate. For those who repent while afflicted, the Lord grants them mercy, merely turning them to stone. Only the unrepentant are turned to vile fiends." This is what counts as fortunate in this world? I couldn''t tear my eyes away from the statues. Each one told a story of fear and pain. I couldn''t tear my eyes away from their frozen agony. A young woman, arm outstretched toward something, or someone, forever beyond her reach. An old man on his knees, face carved with terror and regret, eternally begging for a mercy that had already been granted. And there , I held my breath ,a child no older than Eli, frozen mid-run, mouth opened in a scream that would never end. The carriage rolled forward, and the gates of Caelivitas loomed before us. Massive and imposing, they seemed to promise safety from the horrors of the desert. As we passed through, the statues disappeared from view, replaced by a crowd of people who had gathered. ¡°Lord Solcaeli is back!¡± ¡°Knight Captain Solcaeli has returned from the capital!¡± ¡°All hail Solcaeli!¡± It was clear Solcaeli was beloved by the people. As we reached the town square, the carriage came to a halt. His entourage of knight cleared a path and opened the door of the carriage. On exiting the carriage, he turned back to me, his voice taking on a welcoming tone. ¡°Welcome to Caelivitas¡± Chapter 8: Welcome to Caelivitas ¡°Solcaeli ! Solcaeli ! Solcaeli !¡± The crowd erupted in cheers as Solcaeli exited the carriage. Parents lifted their children onto shoulders for a better view. Others pushed forward, reaching out to touch Solcaeli. Solcaeli waved to the crowd in acknowledgment. After a moment, he raised his hand and began to address them. The crowd fell silent. ¡°It is by the grace of the Lord¡¯s light that this humble servant of his returns home unscathed. May the light guide us all¡±
Holy Rain
Droplets of light fell from the sky, bathing the people in a rain of gold. It was a warm gentle light that comforted the people. A woman near me gasped. ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt anymore,¡± she whispered, tears mixing with the light as she held her hands up to the sky. Around her, others were experiencing their own small miracles - a limping man suddenly walking straight, an old woman''s shaking hands growing steady, a child''s fevered face cooling under his mother''s touch. Then, a bard started strumming his harp and a melody rose from the crowd leading to a slow emotional ballad: "Golden rain falls softly down, Washing sorrows from our crown, Let the pain fade like mist, In this blessed moment''s gift, Though we know it cannot last, Let us dream of shadows past." The song spread like ripples in a pond, voices joining in harmony. Tears rolled down dirt-stained faces, and work-worn hands clasped together. The people¡¯s faces softened and their eyes were filled with hope as the endless rain washed away their misery. For a brief moment, they were able to forget all of their exhaustion and hardship. As the song faded, Solcaeli turned to me. The smile he wore was different from his earlier stern demeanor, radiant, almost gentle. For a moment, I could see why these people looked at him with such devotion. ¡°My brother in light. I¡¯m afraid this is where our paths must part. Our journey together was brief but I trust thou hast felt the compassion of our Lord. Should thou seek to learn more of his justice and mercy, pray visit the Temple of Light¡± Before I could respond, he had already turned away. The carriage door closed behind him with a soft finality, and within moments, both he and his procession had disappeared into the winding streets of Caelivitas. As the carriage disappeared around the corner, the crowd''s reverence transformed into desperation. People rushed forward, holding out cups, bowls, even their cupped hands to catch the remaining droplets of golden light. "Please, just a drop more!" a woman cried, holding up a clay pot. "My daughter, she''s hurt.¡± But her voice was lost amidst the crowd. "Wait! Please wait!" A mother''s cry cut through the chaos. She ran after Solcaeli''s carriage, carrying a small child. "My son! He''s only six! Please!" The carriage didn''t stop. The woman collapsed to her knees, clutching her child as the golden rain faded to nothing. Others were more opportunistic. I spotted glass vials being filled and quietly pocketed. A merchant had already set up a makeshift stand, his voice rising above the commotion: "Holy water! Blessed by Solcaeli himself! Only two silver per vial!" "Lies," spat an old man nearby. "I saw him filling those vials from the city fountain." But people still bought them. Where there was desperate hope, there were always those ready to profit from it. I would know. ¡°Potions , tonics and curatives !¡± A young voice rose above the crowd. ¡°Get your potions, tonics, and curatives.¡± A young boy was hustling about, taking advantage of the gathered crowd to hawk his wares. His voice was loud, trying to catch the attention of anyone who would listen. His eyes scanned the area for potential customers and when he spotted me, his gaze landed on my sword. A sly grin formed on his face. "Sir, you must be a brave adventurer, I can tell!" he called out as he pushed his way towards me. "A man of your stature deserves only the finest potions. I¡¯ve got what you need sir, top quality, at a fair price!" I raised an eyebrow as he held out a small vial, its contents swirling in a faint red hue. "This here is a medium health potion. Perfect for a tough fight. Guaranteed to restore your vitality. Only five silver sir."The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. It was a tempting offer, but that man''s lessons echoed in my mind: in a world of counterfeits, even miracles needed quality control. I''d already watched one snake oil passed off as sacred liquid today.
"Child." That man''s voice was soft. "In our line of work, counterfeit products are a dime a dozen. Always exercise caution when purchasing products." The rain was heavy that day, drumming against the concrete ceiling of the carpark we were in. I was soaked to the skin, watching water drip from level to level. That man was beside me, yet his suit was untouched by rain as if water itself knew better than to mark him. Footsteps approached, echoing off concrete pillars. A figure emerged from the shadows: tan trench coat and aluminum briefcase in hand. The briefcase opened with a click. Inside, neat rows of white powder packed in plastic. The man in the trench coat spoke with practiced confidence: "Pharmaceutical grade, just as requested." "First lesson." That man''s voice carried the same tone he used discussing weather. "Authentication." He turned to me. "How would you verify the product?" I hesitated, remembering textbooks, chemical tests, proper procedures. "We should use a testing kit¡ª" "God gave you five senses for a reason." He pinched a small amount, examining it under the fluorescent lights. "Look at how it clumps. Feel the texture." He brought it to his nose, then touched it to his tongue. Each movement was precise, like a wine taster at an expensive restaurant. "Fake." His voice hardened. "Cut with baking powder. At least 60%." He turned to the seller. "Do you take me for a fool?" The man in the trench coat''s smile tightened. "Sir, I assure you, our products are 100% pure. Medical grade. The Giovanni family''s reputation¡ª" "Second lesson." The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. The man screamed, clutching his shattered kneecap. "Negotiate from a position of strength." That man''s voice remained conversational. "Medical grade, you said? Perfect. Let''s see if it helps with the pain." "You''re insane!" The dealer writhed on the concrete. "The Giovanni family will¡ª" "Final lesson." That man spun, firing twice behind us. A shadow I hadn''t even noticed crumpled. "Always watch your back. The obvious threat is rarely the real one." Red pooled on concrete, mixing with rain water, swirling down drains. That man checked his watch as casually as if checking the time during lunch. "Remember, child. In our world, always trust your senses."
Right. First, use my God-given senses to inspect the product. I lifted the vial, letting my fingers catalog every detail. The weight felt wrong for a proper health potion. Too light, like water instead of the thick, viscous healing extract it should be. I swirled it gently, watching how it moved. Real potions clung to the glass, leaving a residual crimson trail. This stuff splashed around like colored water at a festival.
Inspect
The skill activated, and suddenly my trained senses sharpened to supernatural levels. Each imperfection in the false potion screamed for attention, the uneven mixing of the dye, the telltale watermarks where it had been refilled, even the lingering scent of the kitchen spices used for coloring.
Vial of water: A vial of water mixed with food coloring
I almost smiled. The Inspect skill was just a fancier version of what that man had drilled into me for years. Only instead of his gravelly voice listing off observations, I got neat system notifications. I stared at the ¡®health potion¡¯ again. Amateur work. Unfortunately for this kid, he''d tried to con someone who grew up amongst conmen. This wasn''t even a good forgery, more like a child''s crayon drawing next to a master''s oil painting. I looked him in the eyes, raising the vial slightly. "This looks an awful lot like... water." The boy¡¯s grin faded, but he didn¡¯t back down. "N-no, sir! That¡¯s a real potion, I swear! Just try it, and you¡¯ll see!" His was trying to exude confidence but I could see right through him. The trembling of his hands, the nervous gulps of air. Beneath his false bravados were ticks of nervousness. Next, negotiate from a position of strength. ¡°You sure about that?¡± I took out my sword. ¡°How about we have a practical demonstration. Let¡¯s see how well it heals your wounds¡±. My voice was threatening now. His face was frozen in fear. But before he could stammer out a response, I felt a bump on my back. My instincts kicked in, and I spun around quickly. I caught the wrist of a second boy who had been trying to slip his fingers into my coin pouch. Always watch your back. His eyes widened in fear as I tightened my grip on his. "Gotcha." The first boy¡¯s face went pale. "W-wait, sir, you¡¯ve got it all wrong. He wasn¡¯t trying to steal from you! He was just... uh, checking your pouch to make sure it was safe! " I raised an eyebrow. "Checking it? With his hands inside it?" The younger boy squirmed, trying desperately to yank his hand free. "I-I wasn¡¯t going to take anything, I swear!" he pleaded. " You picked the wrong person to mess with, boys." At this point, two patrolling knights noticed the commotion and came over. "Well, well." The first knight''s voice carried the weariness of someone who''d seen this scene too many times. "If it isn''t the brothers.¡± "We¡¯ve warned you boys before" the other knight said, his voice firm and heavy with authority. "No more thieving." ¡°No sir, please no. We were just playing. I swear sir. By the light.¡± The older boy trembled, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Playing? Like you were ''playing'' when you stole from the temple offering box? Or when you ''played'' with Merchant Marcel''s boxes?" The first knight grabbed the younger boy by the collar, steel fingers digging into worn fabric. ¡°You¡¯re going to the gaol this time.¡± The older boy fell to his knees, clutching at the knight''s greaves. "The gaol? No, sir, please, anything but that! You don''t understand, our sister, she''s sick. The medicine costs¡­" The knight shook his head. "Tell that to the adjudicator. May the God of Light have mercy on you." The younger boy let out a wail, his eyes wide with terror. "No! Please! I don¡¯t want to become a monster!" he cried, his legs kicking uselessly as he was dragged away. The last words of the boys made me uneasy. The cries of becoming a monster¡­ it all hinted at something far more sinister than simple imprisonment. Just what was the true nature of light poisoning? Chapter 9: Always maintain your weapons Now that I was alone, I was free to explore the city. First things first: I needed to find a blacksmith. I glanced down at myself and sighed. Fighting in my inner clothes wasn¡¯t exactly the image of a noble knight. My inability to equip the Nightsky set had left me underequipped for battle, and that was more embarrassing than I¡¯d liked to admit. I needed to find some proper armor soon. The idea of parading around in rags wasn¡¯t cool. Also, it was good practice to service your blade whenever you could. Any weapon, doesn¡¯t matter if it was the Nightsky Blade, OO Holy Sword, or the XX Demon Cleaver, would become blunt after prolonged use. None of them were immune to wear and tear. When that happened, you had to bring it to a smith to sharpen it. Otherwise, you shouldn''t be surprised if your sword broke in the middle of combat. I examined the edge of the Nightsky Blade, running my thumb lightly over the scratches.
Nightsky Blade Durability: 80%
It was still sharp, but not like it should be. Wouldn¡¯t hurt to service it. After a bit of wandering, I found a small blacksmith¡¯s shop tucked into a corner of the craftsmen''s district. As I stepped inside, the sound of metal striking metal greeted me. The forge roared in the background, but after walking through the desert, the heat barely fazed me. Tools of various sizes lined the walls: hammers, tongs, and implements I couldn''t name. The air was thick with the scent of hot metal, coal smoke, and leather oil. In one corner, a barrel of water hissed as the blacksmith periodically quenched his work, sending up clouds of steam. The blacksmith himself was a burly man with soot-stained arms wearing a leather apron marked with countless burns and scratches from years at the forge. He looked up from the sword he was shaping as I approached, his face glistening with sweat. Several half-finished swords and pieces of armor hung from hooks nearby. I unsheathed the Nightsky Blade and held it out to him. "I need this repaired." He wiped his hands on his apron and carefully inspected the blade. "That''s a rare artifact you''ve got there, sir," his eyes shone bright, as if he was gazing upon a chest of gold rather than steel. He ran his finger along the flat of the blade, tracing the subtle patterns in the metal. "Of the six tiers of equipment - Common, Uncommon, Rare, Epic, Legendary, Divine ¨C this is easily legendary tier. The craftsmanship alone..." he trailed off, shaking his head in wonder. ¡°So how much to sharpen it?¡± I asked The blacksmith shook his head, almost regretfully. He handed the blade back to me with careful movements, treating it with the reverence it deserved. "Sir, a priceless weapon like this..." He glanced around the shop, at his modest tools and simple forge. "Its beyond my ability to handle this. One wrong move with a blade of this caliber could ruin it forever. I''m afraid you''ll need a master smith, someone who specializes in legendary artifacts." "Hmm." I had mixed feelings as I resheathed the Nightsky Blade. On one hand, I was proud that I had such a rare weapon, something that could make even an experienced craftsman''s eyes light up with wonder. On the other hand, a master smith sounded expensive. Legendary weapons usually came with legendary maintenance costs. I gave him a nod and left the shop. Tracking down a master smith in a city as large as Caelivitas wasn''t easy. I spent the better part of two hours wandering the craftsmen''s district, asking shopkeepers and apprentices for directions. Some merely shrugged, while others named prices for the information that made me balk. Eventually, a leather worker with kind eyes took pity on me. "Master Doran''s workshop," she said, pointing to a building in the distance. "Follow the Street of Shields until you reach the intersection, then take the alley behind it. Look for the gold anvil sign." She hesitated, then added, "But beware... his services aren''t cheap. The nobles call him ''Gold-Hand Doran'' - and not just for his skill with precious metals." Following her directions led me to a building by the city wall. Unlike the humble workshop I''d just left, this one commanded attention. Soot-stained stone walls rose three stories high, furnished with real glass windows instead of oiled linen. Intricate metalwork decorated the doorway and window frames. And above it all hung a golden anvil sign, polished to a mirror shine. Inside, the heat was far more intense than the previous shop. The air smelled of molten metal and burning coal, with undertones of more exotic materials - sulfur, perhaps. Unlike the cluttered warmth of the first shop, this workshop had an almost temple-like atmosphere. Finished pieces displayed on the walls caught the light from multiple forges, each burning with a different colored flame. I approached the master smith, a stern-looking man with thick arms, who stood examining a piece of glowing metal with absolute concentration. His grey hair was pulled back in a severe knot, and his leather apron bore the elaborate stitching of an anvil. Several apprentices worked quietly in the background with clocklike precision. When I presented the Nightsky Blade, his expression shifted from professional indifference to one of admiration.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. "This is a masterpiece," he said, turning the blade to inspect its edge. "A single-edged design to maximize sharpness, but look here¡ª" he traced a finger along the spine, "the back is reinforced for durability.¡± ¡°Most legendary weapons bear designs from ancient times. Outdated and inefficient, relying more on magical enhancement to carry their weight.¡± he said as he looked at me. ¡°But this, whoever forged this understood modern sword design." He moved closer to one of his forges, but not the ones burning with normal orange flames. Instead, he chose a smaller hearth that burnt with dazzling bluish white flames. The blade seemed to respond to its proximity, the dark metal taking on a subtle sheen. "Made of mithril, no..." He paused, adjusting a lens attached to a flexible metal arm mounted near the forge. "A mithril-adamantium alloy. Extraordinarily difficult to work with. The heat required to forge such a combination. Few forges can reach it." Then, he reached into a leather pouch at his belt and withdrew a pinch of crystalline powder. He held the blade near the flames and sprinkled the powder along its length. The effect was immediate. Ancient glyphs blazed to life along the blade''s surface, not just on one side but in layers, some floating just above the metal itself. "Embedded ancient runes," he said. "Multiple layers, interlinked... enhances magical conductivity by a hundred percent. It¡¯s a work of beauty." Finally, he reached for a crystal that sat on a velvet cushion near his workbench. The crystal was perfectly smooth and seemed to glow with its own inner light. When he pressed it to the blade''s surface, the crystal''s light winked out instantly, replaced by an absolute darkness that seemed to spread outward like ink in water. "Ohh," he breathed, and for the first time, I heard something like fear mix with his professional appreciation. "And it''s infused with the forbidden dark element. Not just coated or enchanted, almost like it''s been quenched in liquid darkness itself." His hands trembled slightly as he set the crystal down. He wiped his palms on his apron before raising his gaze to meet mine. "Such a priceless artifact...¡± His voice lowered. ¡°Even in the old texts, when the world still knew twilight, such craftsmanship was rare.¡± He caught himself, fingers drumming anxiously on his workbench. "Or so the stories say, of course. Mere legends, nothing more." I perked up at the mention of twilight. "The old texts? What do they say about the night?" The master smith''s face went carefully blank, but his hand instinctively reached for an old medallion hanging at his neck - black iron, I noticed, not the golden symbols of the Light God that most wore. "Young man," he said slowly, ¡°you ask questions that could..." He glanced meaningfully at the door, "...attract unwanted attention." He straightened his apron, composure returning. "It''ll be ten gold to service this blade." I blinked at him. Ten gold? ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous," I said, staring at the man like he had just suggested I trade my soul. If it cost 10 gold to use the Nightsky blade for one battle, I would rather bite monsters to death with my teeth." "On the contrary, I think that''s a very reasonable price to handle an illegal dark weapon, don''t you think?" His voice dropped lower, and I noticed his apprentices quietly slipping into the back room. "The Church takes a... particular interest in such artifacts. One might say the price includes a certain discretion." ¡°Illegal?¡± ¡°It is forbidden in the empire of Lumindarael to use the dark element.¡± ¡°Why?¡± He paused before he replied. ¡°I am but a mere blacksmith, such questions are beyond my knowledge.¡± His furtive behavior made me think otherwise but I remembered my experience with Solcaeli and decided it was best not to push such topics. Going back to my sword, ten gold was way too much. I needed alternatives. ¡°How about that sword over there?¡± I asked, while pointing to a plain looking standard issue blade. If it cost that much to repair, I might as well get a brand-new sword. ¡°Our common iron sword? It¡¯s pretty basic, will only cost you one gold sir¡± he replied. ¡° What about the staff over there?¡± I asked, curious at the price to outfit a mage. ¡°You have good eyes sir. Our uncommon mahogany staff is one of our most popular items. Crafted by our master woodworker and blessed by the old gods. It is made of the most durable of materials and will last a lifetime of casting. Guaranteed. It can be yours for the price of 10 silver (0.1 gold).¡± ¡­ I should have chosen a magic class instead. In the end, I left the arms shop with the iron sword and some basic leather armor feeling disappointed. I¡¯m supposed to be the legendary Knight of the Night? More like Knight of the Tight Budget. I found an empty alley behind the craftsmen''s district to test my new equipment. The leather armor creaked as I moved, stiff and unyielding in all the wrong places. Drawing both swords, I held them side by side. The contrast was almost comical, like comparing a masterwork painting to a child''s stick figure. The iron sword looked... well, exactly like what one gold could buy you. Plain, functional, and about as inspiring as a rusty spoon. I gave it a few practice swings. The balance was off, the grip slightly too wide, and it moved through the air with all the grace of a drunk bird. Next to me, the Nightsky Blade pulsed as if offended by the comparison. "Sorry," I muttered to it. "But I can''t afford your maintenance fees. You''re like one of those premium gacha characters that cost too much to upgrade."
Iron Sword ATK: 15
Nightsky Blade ATK: 150 (Currently reduced to 120 due to durability)
I sighed at the stats. Even at 80% durability, the Nightsky Blade hit harder than a fully repaired iron sword ever could. But a sword you couldn''t afford to maintain was just expensive wall decoration. I tried a basic combat sequence - slash, parry, thrust. The iron sword followed my movements, but something felt wrong. Where the Nightsky Blade had practically moved on its own, anticipating my intentions, this one fought me every step. "Right," I muttered. "No fancy techniques with this one. Just point the sharp end at the enemy and hope for the best." Still, as I adjusted my stance and started another practice sequence, I found myself adapting. The sword might be basic, but I could work with basic. Even starter equipment could get you through if you knew what you were doing. It just meant fights would take longer, margins for error would be smaller, and I''d have to learn proper technique instead of relying on my weapon''s power. I finished the sequence with a thrust. Not the worst. I could get used to it. The Nightsky Blade hummed softly at my hip, as if jealous and reminding me of what I was working toward. Eventually, I''d figure out how to maintain it properly. For now, though, I had to work with what I could afford. A true knight''s strength came from skill, not just equipment. At least, that''s what I told myself as I practiced with my budget blade, trying very hard not to think about just how many hits it would take to down even a basic monster with this thing. But hey, at least I didn¡¯t have to bite monsters to death. Not yet, anyway. Chapter 10: Find Daisy I continued to explore the city of Caelivitas. Now that the crowd from Solcaeli¡¯s grand arrival had dissipated, I was able to glimpse the true face of the city. It was depressing. Square buildings made of plain stone and wood lined the streets. Years of sandstorms had eaten away at the corners, leaving them rounded and rough. Most of the townspeople remained indoors, leaving the streets bare and the cityscape stripped of life. There was a sense of quiet resignation in the air and the few people I passed by looked like they had long learned to keep their heads down. ¡°Please, grant us succor¡­¡± a faint voice called from a corner. A few beggars lined the streets, their hands outstretched. Their bodies were scarred by the unmistakable signs of light poisoning. Their limbs were hardened, some partially turned to stone. ¡°Please God, forgive us for our sins¡± Another voice called out. The speaker, an old man with shaking hands. His fingers were beginning to show the early signs of petrification. Beside him stood a man whose left arm had been entirely encased in rock. ¡°Please save my son, he has done no wrong¡± This time it was a woman. She was clutching a child whose skin had begun to harden at the fingertips. It was a sad sight. I shook off the unease that settled in my chest and remembered Solcaeli''s invitation to visit the holy temple. Perhaps there I would be able to learn more about the mysteries of this world. The temple of light was located in the upper layer of the city, its spires visible even from here. And so, I set out towards it. As I ascended into the upper city, the contrast was jarring. The buildings were no longer crude and simple. Instead, they were made of polished white stone that shone in desert¡¯s sun. Where the lower city was subdued and lifeless, the upper city was alive with luxury. The nobles here walked with a pompous gait, their silks clothes catching the sunlight They clustered in little circles, filling the air with tinkling laughter and idle gossip, seemingly blind to the suffering just steps below their streets. Their servants scurried behind them, carrying baggage and fans for their masters. As I navigated the well-maintained streets, I felt a small tug on my sleeve. Looking down, I saw a young girl of around 12, with wide eyes and a neatly braided hairstyle. She looked like the daughter of some high-born noble with her pristine silk dress. However, her expression was one of worry. ¡°Have you seen my Daisy, sir? ¡°Sorry kid, I ain¡¯t got the time for this¡± I shook my head and tried to move on but she held on tight to my sleeves. "I took her for a walk yesterday," the girl said, wringing her hands. Her bottom lip trembled, and worry lines creased her otherwise perfect features, making her look younger and more vulnerable. "But she wandered off... She''s always come home before. What if something happened to her? What if she''s scared and alone?"
New Quest: Find Daisy
Priority: Normal
Description: A noblegirl''s pet has gone missing in the city. Find and return Daisy to her owner.
Objectives:
- Locate Daisy
- Return her to Arya
Reward: ???
Warning: Time Sensitive
The notification caught my interest. It sounded like a distraction from my current goals but if there was a whole side quest for it, it might be worth the effort. ¡°Tell me more about Daisy¡± I asked. ¡°She has beautiful white hair,¡± the girl answered, her fingers unconsciously moving as if stroking something. ¡°"And she''s ever so obedient. Never complains when I brush it, or when I want to practice my braiding.¡± A smile crept onto her face, as though remembering fond memories. "She enjoys exploring the city streets. Even though it''s vast, she''s never lost her way home before." The girl''s voice wavered with what seemed like concern. "She must be so hungry by now... I was meant to give her dinner yesterday, but it slipped my mind."The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The girl¡¯s distress tugged at me, though there was something odd about the way she said it. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll help you find her,¡± I promised, setting off to ask around.
Quest Updated: Information Added
Notable Features: White hair, responds to the name "Daisy"
As I walked through the winding streets of the upper city, I asked the occasional passer-by. The responses were varied, but none helpful. "Arya''s pet?" The nobleman barely glanced up from his ledger. "That girl needs to learn the value of property. Her father can''t keep replacing everything she breaks." A noblewoman merely sniffed, adjusting her parasol. "That child should learn to properly train her... companions. The last one had atrocious table manners, wouldn''t even sit properly at meals." A merchant''s daughter brightened when I mentioned Arya. "Oh, I''d love to have pets like hers! But father says I''m not ready for the responsibility yet. Says I need to learn... patience first." Her excitement dimmed slightly. "Though it''s strange, I never see the same one twice at her tea parties." After what felt like hours of fruitless inquiries, I finally caught a break. ¡°Ah Arya¡¯s little pet?¡± A guard muttered, deep in thought. ¡°I saw that filthy beast by the warehouse in the lower city, you¡¯ll have to head back down.¡±
Quest Updated: Information Added
Last Known Location: Lower City Warehouse District
Thanking him, I headed back down towards the lower city. As I did, the streets grew less pristine and the polished buildings gave way to a maze of dilapidated warehouses and storage areas. Just as I rounded a corner, I heard it, a faint, distant bark, echoing through the narrow passageways. I quickened my pace, weaving through the alleys, trying to follow the sound. Left, then right, deeper into the warehouse district. The buildings pressed in closer here, blocking out most of the harsh sunlight. The barking grew louder, sharper and more frantic. There was something desperate in that sound, something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Then I saw it. Out of the corner of my eyes, a dog. It stood still for a moment near a stack of old crates, staring at me with wary eyes. But something was wrong. It wasn¡¯t the snowy white of the girl¡¯s description. This one was brown, its coat matted with dirt. Its ribs showed through its skin, telling a story of hard times on these unforgiving streets. ¡°You¡¯re not Daisy, are you, girl?¡± I asked, kneeling down to meet the animal¡¯s eyes. The dog whined softly, then barked again. It trotted a few steps away, then looked back at me expectantly. I''d played enough RPGs to recognize a guide when I saw one. "Alright, lead the way." The dog led me deeper into the warehouse district, past buildings with windows boarded off. No workers here, no signs of life at all. Just row after row of abandoned buildings, their empty windows staring down like vacant eyes. There, lying on the ground ahead of me, I saw what I thought was a young woman. Her figure was still, her posture peaceful, as if she had simply fallen asleep. One arm was stretched out, reaching toward something I couldn''t see. But as I drew closer, terror seeped into my veins. The woman was no longer flesh and blood. She was stone, a statue wearing a collar and leash on her neck. "Daisy!" The sound of Arya''s delighted voice made me jump. She darted past me to the statue, face glowing with childish relief. "I finally found you!" She dropped to her knees beside the petrified figure, shaking it with the impatience of a child with a broken toy. "Why didn''t you come when I called? Bad girl, making me look everywhere for you." "Daisy, stop being difficult." Irritation crept into her voice as she tugged at the unyielding stone. "You can''t sleep here. We''re going home." I was still trying to comprehend what was going on and could only mutter ¡°She¡¯s gone Arya. Light poisoning has claimed her.¡± Her face darkened. "Tch. These things always break so easily." She lashed out with one silk-slippered foot, striking the statue. "Father promised this one would be different." Her fingers traced the petrified strands of hair almost lovingly before yanking the leash with sudden violence. "You were the prettiest Daisy yet. None of the other Daisies had white hair as lovely as yours ... and now look what you''ve done." She stood, brushing dust from her dress with practiced disdain. "Do you know how long it takes Father to find new ones? And even longer before the light makes their hair turn that perfect shade of white..." I watched in stunned silence as Arya abused the stone figure. To her, Daisy was no friend or companion. Just another toy to break. The brown dog whined softly beside me. It was still watching the statue, head tilted as if trying to understand. Funny how the starving stray seemed more human than the noble child before me.
Quest completed
Gained Passive skill Heart of Stone
Heart of Stone:
Your constant exposure to tragedy has granted you a stone heart. Gain resistance to mental status effects
A stone heart? Yeah, that describes how I was feeling right now. I wanted to feel rage. Wanted to feel the kind of righteous anger that would drive a proper hero to action. But instead, I felt... nothing. Chapter 11: Youre Weak With the side quest completed, I ascended back to the upper city and went to the holy temple. As I did so, I noticed things I didn¡¯t before. I passed a noble''s garden decorated with several statue-like figures. Behind high walls, I saw them, people on leashes, their hair a uniform white, serving their masters. "Magnificent, aren''t they?" A noblewoman said. "This batch has lasted nearly a year.¡± ¡°They are indeed, the white hair, the luminescent skin... Must be worth every coin.¡± Another replied. "My Isabel," she gestured to a young woman whose skin had a faint crystalline sheen. ¡°"was quite common before. But look at her now! The secret is regular exposure. Not too much light at once. " I blocked out the words and moved along, unable to bear their conversations anymore. I was back in front of the holy temple. Looking at it from here, up close, it was an impressive sight. The building dominated the skyline with its white marble spires reaching toward the heavens. Sunlight struck the polished stone and scattered in all directions, creating a corona effect that made the temple appear to glow from within The walls were adorned with massive stained-glass windows, each showing an image of a different knight. They depicted twelve knights in total, their images towering three stories high. Each knight was captured in a moment of power, one wreathed in holy flames that seemed to dance in the sunlight, another commanding wave of crystalline ice. I saw one with winds swirling around her blade, and another with the very earth rising to answer his call. At the center of this pantheon sat what I assumed to be their leader, perched upon a throne that appeared to be carved from a single massive crystal. Unlike the others, this knight was depicted in repose, yet somehow seemed more threatening than all the rest. The way the light struck the window made their armor seem to shift and move, as if at any moment they might step down from their throne. Above the entrance, carved in letters of gold, was an ancient script that I didn¡¯t quite understand. Perhaps greek or something more exotic. As I prepared to enter the temple, however, that dreaded warning sign popped up again.
Warning! You party is severely undersized for this raid
Recommended level: ???
Recommended Party: 12
Current Party: 1
System Assessment: Suicide Mission
I froze mid-step. Wait what! I was expecting this to be a casual visit to the temple to learn more about the history of this world, not a raid boss to be tackled when I barely had any combat experience. What kind of temple needed to be approached with a full combat party? Looking around with newfound wariness, I noticed details I''d overlooked before. What I''d taken for simple decorative engravings along the walls now looked more like battle scars. The massive doors, while beautiful, were reinforced with strips of metal that seemed more suited to a fortress than a place of worship. Even the steps leading up to the entrance were worn down in patterns that suggested regular defensive formations rather than peaceful gatherings. I caught movement in my peripheral vision, priests in their white robes watching me from behind pillars. They whispered to each other behind raised hands, their eyes never leaving me. My instincts told me that I definitely should not enter the temple. Perhaps it was my paranoia but all the signs added up to one clear message: I was a low-level player stumbling into late-game content. This would not end well. I took a step backward, then another. What now then? I felt a deliberate bump behind me. ¡°The night exists.¡± A voice muttered to me, low and soft, barely audible. But just those three words made my heart skip. Finally, a hint towards my goals. I started to turn, but the voice quickly added. ¡°Don''t look back. Wait ten seconds then follow me.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. The footsteps behind me moved left, each one deliberately placed. One, two, three... I counted the seconds, my heart hammering against my ribs. At ten, I turned, catching sight of a hooded figure already halfway down the street. I followed, maintaining a careful distance. Close enough to keep them in sight, far enough not to draw attention. We descended back into the lower city, an all too familiar trek to me now. I had made this journey before, but this time, with the excitement of the night motivating me, the journey was a lot more pleasant. The hooded figure led me deeper into a maze of deserted alleyways where even the beggars didn''t venture. The sounds of the city grew distant, replaced by our echoing footsteps and the occasional scurrying of rats. The walls pressed in closer here, the buildings leaning toward each other, constricting the path ahead. Every gaming instinct I had screamed ''ambush location,'' and I wondered if I made the right choice, but we''d passed the point of no return. Finally, we reached a dead end, walls on three sides, decorated with peeling posters and faded graffiti. The hooded figure stopped. "Master Doran spoke of you." The voice was clearer now. "Welcome, warrior of darkness." ¡°Doran?¡± "The blacksmith." He clarified. " He has keen eyes, that one. Said a stranger walked into his forge bearing a blade of darkness itself." His head tilted. "A stranger that asked questions about things best left unspoken." That old man. I knew there was something fishy about him. His willingness to handle an illegal weapon yet evasiveness in answering questions. "Walking these streets with such a flashy weapon. You¡¯re new to our city, I reckon." I nodded. ¡°Just arrived.¡± "Fresh from the Undercity, then.¡± He leaned against the wall, relaxed despite our suspicious surroundings. ¡°Though the desert crossing must have been harsh, it always is. Most of us just barely made it. Few of us dare to return." "Huh?" I blinked, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. "The Undercity? Who are you?" The questions tumbled out, each one carrying more confusion than the last. " You¡¯re not from the Undercity?" He straightened up; surprise evident in their posture. "Impossible. All dark affinities start in the Undercity." There was genuine puzzlement in their voice now, as if I''d disrupted some fundamental assumption. I shook my head, struggling to find words that wouldn''t make me sound completely lost. "Who are you?" I repeated, putting more force behind the question this time. "Ah yes, where are my manners." He reached up to adjust their hood, though his face remained hidden in shadow. "This must all seem very strange to you." There was a pause, weighted with significance. "We are -." The hooded figure''s words died mid-sentence. The temperature seemed to drop, and shadows that had been perfectly normal moments ago began to move wrong. They stretched, twisted, flowed like liquid darkness. "Watching you..." The voice wasn''t loud, but it filled the alley completely, as if the walls themselves were speaking. I turned around trying to locate the source but to no avail. ¡°Knight of the Night.¡± The voice twisted through the air. "You''ve seen it, haven''t you? The light''s true face." ¡°A system to oppress the masses, enriching the few while devouring the masses.¡± The voice grew closer, almost tangible, before a shadow detached itself from the walls, condensing into a figure. He was dressed in black and fluttered from shadow to shadow. He wore a creepy smile on his face and a crescent scythe in his hand. ¡°Greetings chosen¡­¡± The smiling man stopped abruptly mid-sentence. He stared at me with confusion on his face. The corners of his lips turned downwards, transforming his smile into a frown. ¡°Hmmmm¡± He cocked his head to the side before gripping his chin in deep thought. He then proceeded to tap his forehead before looking to the sky as though pondering some great mystery. Tap, tap- he drummed his fingers against his forehead, lost in thought. And then, without warning, that unsettling smile returned to his face. There was a silver flash. I held up my iron sword in response, but it was too slow. The clash lasted less than a heartbeat before my sword shattered into a thousand pieces. In that split second, I saw my reflection in the falling shards. Defenseless. Pain exploded across my body as a series of slashes tore through me, each one more brutal than the last. I was thrown back and crashed into the wall behind. Blood sprayed out in elegant patterns, like some twisted artist''s masterpiece. The next few moments were hazy. "Strange..." The smiling man''s voice drifted down from somewhere above me. "You bear all of his authority but none of his strength..." He stared at me as though expecting a reply. But do you really expect a grievously injured person to respond to puzzling questions? ¡°You¡¯re weak. Still way too weak.¡± The man stood over me, his eyes filled with disappointment.
Critical Status: Severe Hemorrhaging
HP: 12/135
Status Effect: Fatal Bleeding - HP drains 1 per second
Time until death: 00:00:12
I was slowly bleeding out. My vision was blurry and I could only see shapes. ¡°It¡¯s too early for you to be here. You¡¯ll never beat the Sky Knight like this.¡± His cryptic words made no sense to me. Sky Knight? The question formed but never reached my lips. ¡°Go back to the Undercity, get stronger before raiding the upper city again¡±
HP: 3/135
System shutdown imminent
My world turned black. The last thing I saw was the twinkling shards of my broken sword. My last thought before I passed out was bitter with frustration: ¡°I just bought that sword you asshole¡± Chapter 12: Welcome to the Undercity I woke up in darkness. For the first time, I felt a strange sense of comfort without the constant light. I tried looking around, but it was pitch black. How? In a land where the sun doesn¡¯t set, how could such a dark place exist? I placed my hands on the ground, feeling the cold stone beneath me. This was man-made. A dungeon, maybe. I crawled around, searching, and eventually hit something solid. A door. Jackpot. Standing up, I felt around until I found the handle and slowly opened it Upon opening the door, a pair of glowing yellow eyes greeted me. They were large and highly unnatural, two bright orbs without any visible pupils or whites. Those were not the eyes of a human. They belonged to a hooded figure, his face completely hidden in the darkness except for one thing: a set of white teeth, too large for any human. They formed a grin. I tried to Inspect but it returned nothing but static when I tried to focus on him. It was like looking at a hole in reality shaped vaguely like a person. "Welcome, chosen one. We''ve been expecting you," a voice emanated from the hooded figure. ¡°Who are you? Where am I?¡± I asked, trying to keep calm. "One question at a time, young one. I''m sure you have plenty." He spread his arms in a theatrical gesture. "To start with, I am the Guide, here to shepherd new players through the game." They¡¯re only giving me the tutorial now? Isn¡¯t it a little late for that? ¡°You are currently deep in the catacombs of Caelivitas. Beyond me lies the road to the Undercity.¡± He raised his arms and pointed towards the darkness. Torches began to light up one by one, illuminating a long flight of stairs that disappeared into an endless pit below. As we walked, I had to ask, ¡°I heard the Undercity is the starting city for the dark. Why didn¡¯t I start there?¡± ¡°Why indeed.¡± He pondered. ¡°A glitch perhaps? Maybe during your character creation.¡± He stared at me with accusing eyes. ¡°Either way, little point in wondering about it now¡± ¡°How did I get here?¡± "Who knows? Maybe you were brought here by a little bird, a jellyfish..." His grin widened. "Or a smiling man." He turned away. "Does it really matter? You need to stop living in the past." As we descended deeper, the air grew thicker, carrying a faint scent of damp stone and moss. I could hear faint echoes of something... distant music? Or was it just my imagination? ¡°What happened to the night?¡± I asked ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t answer that. Seek out the oracle should you desire answers.¡± I rolled my eyes. His flippant answers were starting to get to me. ¡°And the Undercity? What is its connection to Caelivitas?¡± ¡°The library holds the answers you seek.¡± ¡°I only read litRPGs.¡± ¡°How unfortunate.¡± The faint sounds were growing clearer now. It was definitely the sound of music, blending with the occasional burst of laughter and chatter. The bottomless pit was reaching an end, replaced with flashes of light that grew brighter with each step. Soon, the once still darkness gave way to a warm, vibrant energy. At the end of the pit was a lively town. Music pulsed through the streets, colorful lights flashed overhead, and the joyful noise of celebration filled the air. ¡°Welcome to the Undercity¡± the Guide said. ¡°The people here sure are lively¡± I commented, noting the contrast with the stillness of Caelivitas. ¡°As they should be,¡± the Guide said. ¡°Tell me, what do you think darkness represents?¡± ¡°Death, destruction, evil?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what the Church of Light would have you believe. Is that why you chose the dark? To be evil?¡± I shook my head deep in thought. ¡°No, I would not consider myself evil.¡± I considered myself a rebel, maybe a bit of an anarchist. But outright evil? No. ¡°Precisely, there is nothing inherently good or evil but thinking about it makes it so.¡± ¡°Hamlet, Shakespeare¡± I added. The Guide smiled. ¡°Well done, you¡¯re surprisingly well-read for someone who only reads litRPGs. ¡°And you¡¯re surprisingly sentient for whatever it is you are,¡± I retorted "Cough, cough, how rude," he said, raising his voice as if insulted. ¡°Anyways, the fact remains. Darkness isn¡¯t evil. If the Light represents stasis, stability, order, and control then the Dark is the opposite of that. The Darkness represents change, activity, and life.¡± He gestured to the festival around us. "Only in darkness can life truly flourish."The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. We entered the city. There was a massive festival going on. Bands were playing in the town square, crowds were dancing, and lights sparkled everywhere. As we walked through the crowd, I noticed the wide mix of races. Cat girls, bunny boys, werewolves, elves, and more catgirls. The Guide smirked. ¡°Cat girls are always popular. Every MMO has them.¡± I laughed. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s true.¡± I glanced around at the outfits. Some people were dressed in modern clothes, others in traditional Eastern styles, and a few in beachwear. One guy even ran by in a chicken suit. ¡°Doesn¡¯t this break the immersion?¡± I asked. This place did not bear the aesthetics of a medieval town. The Guide pointed to a woman in a kimono. ¡°See that dress? It¡¯s from the cash shop. The revenue from that one dress was doubled what we made from our monthly subscription. If players want to express themselves, let them. A little immersion-breaking is a small price to pay for creative freedom¡± ¡°I believe what you really mean is screw immersion, let¡¯s get rich,¡± I said. He stared at me with those eerie eyes again but remained silent. A group of cat girls in skimpy outfits crossed our path. One brushed against me with a teasing smile. Another winked, tilting her head in that anime-cute way. I blushed. The marketing team knew their target audience. Fine, the Guide had a point. Every MMO needed its degenerate hangout spot. At least this one had good music. ¡°How do you differentiate between players and NPCs?¡± I asked, realizing there were no obvious markers. "That''s the neat part - you don''t. If players want to roleplay as NPCs, they can take that secret to the grave. And our AI?" His grin widened. "You will never be able to tell the difference. ¡°Come on, there has to be a tell. Party invites only work on real players, right?¡± ¡°Where''s the fun in that? Modern MMO players prefer playing solo anyway. Gone are the days of begging friends to raid." Those inhuman eyes fixed on me. "If you rather party with NPCs, we let you. And I''ll say it again - you will never be able to tell the difference.¡± ¡°Why not just ask them?¡± ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t recommend that. It¡¯s against terms of service, we had to ban a whole cohort of toxic players because of this.¡± ¡°How is that toxic?¡± I found this weird. It sounded like an innocent question. ¡°Harassment. Players come here to live out their fantasies, even the darker ones. But not everyone approves of a chaotic evil psychopath playthrough. The veil of anonymity protects them. Player or NPC? You''ll never know.¡± When he put it that way, it clicked. Every multiplayer game I''d touched had devolved into the same toxic mess. You play like an AI, noob, uninstall¡­ But who flames NPCs in a single-player game? Genius way to solve toxicity - make everyone look like an NPC. "Precisely," he added, as though reading my thoughts. "Think of it as a single-player game with very convincing NPCs. Every choice matters. Every story branch is unique." His yellow eyes gleamed. "Just immerse yourself and see where you end up." ¡°Hard to be immersed when there are cat girls in bikinis.¡± ¡°¡­ We need to pay the bills. Will you drop it already.¡± ¡°Alright, fine. What about respawns? NPCs get those as well, right?¡± I asked. ¡°Respawns?¡± His voice went up to a higher pitch in a quizzical tone. ¡°You didn¡¯t read the tutorial, did you?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t read¡± "You really should. In this game..." The Guide''s eternal grin faded, his yellow eyes dimming. "Death is permanent. No respawns. No second chances." His voice dropped low. "When you die, everything - your character, your progress, your story - gets erased. Forever." My blood froze as I remembered the smiling man. How close I''d come to losing everything. My throat went dry. "That doesn''t sound very fun." "Fun?" His laugh was hollow. "Tell me, young one. When was the last time you felt truly alive in a game where death meant nothing?" ¡°Hardcore Ironman mode, Nuzlocke rules. These are all challenges in other games that are incredibly popular. Their commonality? When you die, you stay dead.¡± For once, I didn''t have a comeback. He wasn''t wrong about modern games being too soft. They lacked stakes. At this point, the crowd around us parted, and a blonde teenage girl emerged from the sea of dancers. She moved with casual confidence, her bright eyes landed on me with curiosity. Several other dancers called out to her "Come back!" She ignored them, making a direct line for us. ¡°I saw you arrived from beyond the gates, you¡¯re from topside aren¡¯t you¡± she asked ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± I replied awkwardly, not entirely sure what she was referring to. "Come dance with me!" she insisted, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the town square. I wasn¡¯t used to dealing with situations like this and so I looked back to the guide, eyes silently begging him for help. ¡°Enjoy yourself.¡± He said with a faint grin. ¡°While you still can.¡± The girl led me into a sea of bodies. The bass of the drums reverberated through the cavernous city. Every beat felt raw, echoing off the stone walls and guiding the crowd in perfect unison. Magic-fueled lights blinked overhead, casting vibrant colors across the crowd. The atmosphere reminded me of a nightclub. ¡°Come on!¡± The girl¡¯s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She started dancing, her movements quick and carefree, her body swaying to the rhythm. She twirled once, laughing, her energy infectious. I tried to mimic her steps, but I felt clumsy and awkward. Dancing wasn¡¯t my strong point. "Relax," she said, grabbing my hands and guiding me to the beat. "Feel the music with your heart, not your head." The drumming intensified, each beat rattling through my chest like a heartbeat. The rhythm was relentless, intoxicating, pulling me into its sway. It wasn¡¯t long before I started to lose myself in the movement, my body following the rhythm almost on instinct. She let go of my hands and stepped back, watching with a mischievous smile as I found my footing. ¡°Not bad,¡± she teased, her laughter carried away by the booming drums. ¡°I¡¯m a fast learner,¡± I shot back, trying to suppress my grin. "I can see that." She pulled a wine flask from her satchel. "Celebratory drink?" ¡°No thanks¡± I declined. "Boring," she teased, taking a sip. "So, tell me about topside. What''s it like up there?" ¡°Have you never been?¡± She shook her head. ¡°It''s rare for people from the Undercity to go topside. Only the strongest venture up there. I¡¯ve been down here my whole life¡± Her whole life. It sounded like something an NPC would say. Or was she a role player with an elaborate backstory? Either way, it didn¡¯t matter for now, I guess. And so, I told her about my experiences there. About men turning to stone and monsters. About the harshness of the desert and the people¡¯s lives. ¡°Sounds tough,¡± she said quietly, staring at the ground. There was something vulnerable in the way she said it, a kind of disappointment. ¡°We don¡¯t have anything like that here¡± she continued. ¡°The darkness keeps us safe from the light¡±. Her eyes met mine again. ¡°I guess we¡¯re lucky that way¡±. The music swelled around us, but she seemed lost in thought. Then, after a moment of silence, she looked up, her expression softening. ¡°One day, though... I¡¯d like to see the sky.¡± She smiled brightly, her whole face lighting up with the idea. ¡°Thank you for the dance,¡± she said, stepping back to the crowd. ¡°I¡¯m Estella, by the way.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Noctus.¡± ¡°I hope we meet again.¡± My mind raced for the right response, but before I could say anything, she gave a playful wave, tapped her foot twice, and disappeared into the crowd, her laughter echoing behind her. Chapter 13: The Dancer The next day, I woke up in the Undercity. Now that the festival was over, the town had assumed a more peaceful atmosphere. I stretched, still feeling the ache from yesterday¡¯s dance, and decided to explore the town. First things first, I needed to replace my broken sword. The nearby marketplace was packed with activity. Many different stalls were laid out, selling all manner of goods. The merchants had arranged their stalls in concentric circles, creating a spiralling maze of commerce. The outer rings held common goods, fruits, vegetables, textiles. But as I moved inward, the merchandise grew progressively more interesting, and more deadly. A weapon merchant caught my eye, his stall positioned next to a potion seller. Various blades hung from hooks in the cave wall, some of them in pristine condition, some of them worn from overuse. The merchant, a gruff man with a missing left ear, looked up from his work. He was carefully wrapping leather around a sword handle. ¡°A virgin blade or an experienced bloodletter. Whatever you fancy, I got what you need.¡± I kept my expression neutral. "I just need a sword." He reached beneath his counter and pulled out a blade. "Aye. You want this one. An uncommon steel sword. Good steel, balanced. It hungers for fresh meat." I picked it up. The sword was indeed well-crafted, light and sharp. But the merchant wanted three gold for it. I opened my coin purse¡­ a sole gold coin remained. "Something simpler," I said, keeping my voice steady despite my empty purse. He rolled his eyes and reached for a plain common iron sword. "One gold. Sharp enough to kill, dull enough to not ask questions about it.¡± My heart fell as I removed the lonely gold coin from my purse. ¡­ I hate being a knight. With my new sword, I turned my thoughts back to the Guide''s advice: finding the Oracle. If I wanted answers on the night, she would be my best option. And so I asked around the marketplace. ¡°Nay, haven¡¯t seen the Oracle in a long time. But if you¡¯re looking for information, try the tavern; lots of rumors and gossip float around in there.¡± One merchant was particularly helpful and pointed me in the right direction. The Moonless Tavern wasn''t difficult to find. A massive weather-worn sign dominated the cavern intersection, mounted on what might have been the oldest building in the Undercity. Music and drunken laughter spilled from beneath its door, echoing off the stone walls. "Watch yourself in there," warned a gruff voice. An old man leaned against the wall beside the door, pipe smoke curling around his scarred face. ¡°Lots of hooligans itching for a fight. The kind that don''t need much reason to start one.¡± I nodded my thanks and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The tavern was crowded, buzzing with chatter and clinking mugs. Tough-looking folks gave me the eye as I walked in, with more than a few wearing their weapons openly. Their well-oiled blades, polished hilts, and worn grips spoke of regular use. These weren''t common thugs but practiced fighters. I squeezed through the crowd, making my way to the bar. Perhaps the bartender might know something about the oracle. As I neared the bar, I got a closer look at the bartender. He was a menacing man with tattoos all over his face, serving drinks rapidly to his thirsty patrons. His eyes flicked to me briefly. He slid a pint of beer across the counter and looked away, dismissing me before I could even say a word. I tried to get his attention. I needed information, not ale, but it was impossible to catch his eyes. Left with nothing but the drink in front of me, I studied it instead. Dark, local brew, the kind that could clean rust off a blade. One sip confirmed that was probably safer than drinking it.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. The tavern''s usual chaos suddenly stilled with the crowd falling hush. A sensuous figure emerged from behind the curtains and glided onto the stage with grace and poise, dressed in flowing silks of red that fluttered as she made her way to the center. When she began to sing, the remaining conversations died instantly. Her voice was soft at first, angelic, and captivating. The ballad she chose told of a fallen warrior who danced with shadows ; a tale of loss, longing, and defiance that seemed to transform the tavern''s very atmosphere. Then she started to dance. Her movements told a story that her words couldn''t capture. With a graceful twirl, her skirts fanned out, and her arms moved in fluid arcs as though she were painting the air itself. As her song reached a crescendo, she spun faster, reaching a dazzling speed that left her motion a blur. When she finally came to an end, the crowd erupted in cheers. I stood there watching and joined in the applause. It was Estella. "You¡¯re new here. Quite something, isn''t she?" The bartender''s voice startled me. He''d materialized beside me without a sound. "Darling of the Undercity. Though if you''re thinking of causing trouble..." He left the threat unspoken, but his meaning was clear. "Just here for the performance," I said carefully. The sudden shift from dismissive to threatening was interesting. Estella had powerful friends in the Undercity. I turned back to the stage. I wanted to go over to greet her but hesitated. A popular girl like her, would she still remember me? The applause was still ongoing as Estella gave a final graceful bow and stepped off the stage. However, three big men accosted her on her way down, blocking her path to the back room. The leader, a broad-shouldered man with an expensive silk vest, stepped forward with an entitled confidence. "Quite the performance, sweetness." A lecherous grin formed on his face as he adjusted his vest. "How about a private show? We pay well for... exclusive entertainment." Estella''s smile vanished. "Not interested." She tried to step around them, but the tall one blocked her path. The other patrons barely glanced up at the confrontation. Their lack of concern was telling. Either they were too hardened to care, or they knew something I didn''t about Estella''s capabilities. He grabbed her wrist, the gaudy rings on his fingers biting into her skin. "Don''t be like that, darling. A dancer like you must know how to... negotiate." Estella''s eyes flashed. "Let go. Now." Her voice was ice. The third man''s hand drifted to his belt. "Careful, little bird," he growled. "Down here, far from your stage, it''s easy to trip and fall." I noticed Estella''s jaw clench, her fingers twitching towards her skirt where something shiny glinted. But as I pushed through the crowd towards her, it became clear she was no stranger to these situations. Estella''s gaze cut to her assailant. "I never trip. But you?" She smirked. "You''re about to fall hard." With a graceful twist, she spun and flipped the man grabbing her wrist onto the ground. She stomped on him to loosen his grip and finished him with a kick to the head. The leader tried to strike her with a punch but was too slow. Her backflip kick connected first and knocked the breath out of him. The last thug took out his knife from his belt. ¡°Let¡¯s see how well you dance with a blade in your leg,¡± he threatened. In response, Estella took out two chakrams and threw them at him. The blades danced in the air as though moving with a will of their own, curving in ways that defied physics. They were swift as the wind and inflicted multiple slashes along the man''s arms and legs, not fatal wounds, but precisely placed to hamper movement. He tried to strike her back, a slash to the right, a stab to the left. But she easily dodged his clumsy attacks with her light feet. ¡°Sorry, but I don''t follow anyone else''s choreography¡± She yelled as she rushed towards him. Her strikes came in rapid succession, each one targeting a precise pressure point. Palm heel to solar plexus, knee to kidney, elbow to temple. The man collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. The tavern fell silent. Estella gave a graceful curtsy to her fallen audience, chakrams still gleaming at her sides. "Next time, gentlemen, stick to watching from the crowd." She stepped over their groaning forms with a dancer''s poise. "I don''t do private shows." That''s when her eyes met mine. A megawatt smile formed on her face when she realized I was there. ¡°Noctus!¡± She waved enthusiastically. The way she brightened at my presence made the suspicious stares from the other patrons feel distant and unimportant. She weaved through the crowd and made her way towards me. I found myself mirroring her smile without meaning to. "We meet again. Did you enjoy the show?" She gave a quick twirl and struck a cute pose. "Yea, it was good¡­¡± I said, glancing at the groaning men on the floor. ¡°Both your shows. I didn''t know you could fight like that.¡± She shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s a lot you don''t know about me. Now, what brings you to this fine establishment?" ¡°I¡¯m looking for the Oracle.¡± Chapter 14: The Witch ¡°The Oracle¡­¡± Estella''s smile faded slightly. ¡°That¡¯s a tough one. No one has seen her in ages. Almost as if she disappeared.¡± She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then her eyes lit up. ¡°Oh, I know. Agatha would know where she is. She keeps to herself, but she knows things.¡± ¡°And where might I find Agatha?¡± Finally, a lead worth following. "It''s difficult to describe..." Estella bit her lip, then suddenly grabbed my hand. Her fingers were warm against my skin, delicate and soft. "Come, I''ll show you." She released my hand once we were outside. I tried to ignore the small pang of disappointment as she darted ahead, full of enthusiasm. "Come on, this way, follow me!" She guided me through the labyrinth of the Undercity, past crumbling archways and beneath strings of dimming crystal lights, through winding alleys that seemed designed to disorient. I was grateful. I would never have been able to navigate this route without her. Eventually, the merchants'' calls and the general bustle of the markets faded behind us, replaced by the quiet drip of water and the echo of our footsteps. As we pressed deeper, the familiar glow of the Undercity''s lights grew distant, until we found ourselves in complete darkness. "Hold on to me." Her silhouette extended a hand in the darkness. "I used to come here as a kid. It''s a maze of pitch-black tunnels. One wrong turn and you''ll be lost to the darkness." I hesitated, grateful that darkness concealed how flustered a simple gesture had made me. "Trust me," she whispered, her voice soft in a way that made my pulse quicken. Her fingers intertwined with mine as she led me deeper into the unknown, moving with confident familiarity while I stumbled in the darkness. "Watch your head here," she warned, tugging my hand downward. Her other hand brushed my chest as she steadied me, lingering just a heartbeat too long. We crouched beneath arches and squeezed through gaps that seemed to defy human passage. "So, Noctus..." Estella''s voice took on a playful lilt. "Do you have a special someone? A girlfriend? Boyfriend, maybe?" Even in the darkness, I could feel warmth rushing to my face. Her question caught me off guard, especially with her hand still clasped in mine. "Ah, no. No, nothing like that." I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Why do you ask?" She hummed thoughtfully. "Just curious." Her thumb brushed lightly over my knuckles, sending a tiny shiver up my spine. "Seems like you''d have your pick of partners, being a brave knight and all." I let out a short laugh, hoping it didn''t sound as nervous as I felt. "I think you''re overestimating my appeal." "Or maybe you''re underestimating it." Her tone was light, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something I couldn''t quite place. Before I could respond, she tugged gently on my hand. "Come on, we''re almost there." After several more minutes of navigating the labyrinthine darkness, Estella came to a halt. "Here we are," she whispered, her breath tickling my ear in a way that made my heart stumble. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to a faint, otherworldly glow emanating from around a corner. Estella led me forward, and as we rounded the bend, the source of the light came into view: a small grotto, illuminated by bioluminescent fungi clinging to the damp walls. In the center of the grotto was a small, decrepit shack. The structure looked like it hadn¡¯t seen visitors in years, with dark moss creeping up its weathered walls and gaps between the rotting boards that leaked an unsettling purple light. The door was warped and splintered, hanging crookedly on rusted hinges. Strange talismans hung from it, bones, crystals, and things I couldn''t quite identify, all clicking together in a breeze I couldn''t feel.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I knocked on the door. Timid at first, then louder when silence answered. Each knock made the talismans sway and chime discordantly. I pushed open the door, wincing at the drawn-out creak that echoed through the grotto. Inside, the room reeked of odd herbs and spices. Various occult items filled the room. Scribbles of various pentagrams, check. Vials filled with strange glowing liquids, check. Shelves stacked with tattered, dusty books, check. There was even a cauldron bubbling away in the corner, its contents slowly spinning in a swirling blur. Everything about this place screamed witch¡¯s hut and suddenly I wasn¡¯t too keen to meet this Agatha. Too late though. An old woman materialised beside the cauldron. She had long grey hair tangled like a web. Her fingers were long and bony, fiddling with something I couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Aunty Agatha, hello, it¡¯s been so long,¡± Estella greeted her with an energetic wave. She glanced up. "Estella, my dear," the old woman said, her voice warm but brittle. "Yes, it''s been far too long." Her eyes shifted to me, sharp and appraising. "And who is this you''ve brought to my doorstep?" I stepped forward, meeting her gaze. "I''m Noctus. I''m looking for the Oracle." ¡°And what business do you have with the Oracle?¡± she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. ¡°Nothing good ever comes out from those seeking the Oracle¡± ¡°I wish to know about the night,¡± Her lips curled into a grin and she gave a low and throaty cackle. "Hohoho, you dabble in dangerous topics, boy. The night holds many mysteries, some better left untouched." She gave her cauldron a slow, deliberate swirl. She turned to Estella, shaking her head. "Where do you find these types, my girl?" Estella blushed. ¡°Please Agatha, could you help us out?¡± She pleaded. She paused for a moment, sizing us up. ¡°Well, since it¡¯s my dearest Estella asking¡­Yes, the Oracle is a good friend of mine." Her voice took on a patronizing tone. "I could tell you where she is¡­" ¡°But?¡± I asked, sensing the catch coming before the words even left her mouth. Her smile widened, revealing a set of discolored teeth. ¡°You¡¯re a smart boy.¡± She leaned in and whispered. "But I¡¯ll need something from you first." I exhaled, already bracing for whatever task she would throw at me. "And what might that be?" She dipped a finger into the cauldron and tasted a drop of that viscous, foul-smelling liquid. ¡°I¡¯m lacking a key ingredient for my potion. A rat¡¯s tail. Get me one of those, and you shall have the answer you seek.¡± "A rat''s tail? Where am I supposed to find one of those?" Agatha blinked at me as if I had just asked the most obvious question in the world. "From a rat, obviously," she mocked. "Surely a smart boy like you could have figured that out." I clenched my jaw. ¡°Are you seriously asking me to catch a rat? I¡¯m a knight, I slay dragons, not catch rats," I protested. She laughed again before walking up to me and patting my shoulder. ¡°No one is above rats, not even if you were the Demon King himself, dear.¡± Her grin widened, revealing more of those unsettling teeth. " Now, run along and bring me what I need." She waved her hand and the room around turned into a blur, the colours of the room replaced with the green glow of fungi. When the motion stopped, we were back outside. ¡°Damn that witch.¡± I growled, stomping on the ground. My eyes scanned the surroundings, but the hut was no longer in sight. Still feeling disoriented from her magic, I lowered myself to the ground. ¡°Don¡¯t be too hard on Agatha.¡± Estella said as she sat down beside me, the glow from the fungi reflecting off her face. ¡°She was being nice to us.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel like it,¡± I grumbled. ¡°I mean rats? Honestly, it¡¯s insulting¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Estella patted my arm. ¡°Rats are easy to find, this will be fast,¡± she assured me. I sighed, asking reluctantly, ¡°So where do we find rats?¡± ¡°In the sewers of course,¡± Estella replied with a shrug. ¡°¡­¡± I thought silently. This was just getting worse. I could picture it already: wading through filth, surrounded by the stench of waste and decay, all for a single rat''s tail. ¡°Oh, we might also encounter some monsters there,¡± she added. "..." Much worse. Why settle for just rats when you could throw in a few abominations as well? "You''re enjoying this, aren''t you?" She gave me an innocent smile that wasn''t innocent at all. "Maybe a little.¡± She pushed herself to her feet, brushing off her skirt before extending a hand to me. ¡°Come on, Sir Knight, your noble quest awaits!"
Quest Accepted: A Witch''s Bargain
Objective: Venture into the treacherous sewers and retrieve a rat''s tail for Agatha''s mysterious potion
Reward: Information about the Oracle''s whereabouts
Progress: 0/1 rat''s tail obtained
Difficulty: Unknown
Beware of hidden dangers lurking in the depths
Chapter 15: The Sewers ¡°So Noctus,¡± Estella turned to face me, tilting her head to the side. ¡°Why are you so interested in the night? Isn¡¯t it just a myth?¡± I paused, thinking. The night was taboo in Caelivitas. How much did the people of the Undercity know about it? ¡°What do you know about the night?¡± I asked. Estella twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. ¡°Hmmm, not much,¡± she admitted. ¡°You ever heard of the Gotterdammerung?¡± Estella spun on her heel, facing me mid-stride. "Gotter-what now?" I asked. Estella gave a soft chuckle before explaining. ¡°It¡¯s this festival we celebrate to commemorate the return of the night.¡± Her movements became more animated. "Apparently, some guy in ancient history once managed to bring darkness to the skies. So, every year, we make a prayer hoping that the miracle will return." She held her hands together to make a prayer before bursting into laughter. "Honestly though, most of us just see it as an opportunity to drink and dance." The dark tunnels eventually opened up back to the streets of the undercity. As we walked, her movements were exaggerated and lively, bouncing almost in contrast to my measured pace. "It''s just way too abstract otherwise," Estella continued, her voice taking on a serious tone and her gestures becoming more muted. "We don''t even have a sky in the Undercity.¡± She looked up instinctively, only to be met by the endless rocky ceiling above. She sighed and looked back down, her voice fading away. ¡°Night and day hold no meaning for us. Just relics of a time long gone." After a short pause, she turned to face me again. ¡°So, what¡¯s your story?¡± she stared at me in anticipation. Hmmm. I hadn¡¯t thought of a backstory yet. Maybe I was an amnesiac warrior who awoke in the desert or the chosen one who was Isekai''d from another world. Nah, too clich¨¦. Besides, it¡¯s not cool to refer to yourself as the chosen one. ¡°Let¡¯s continue,¡± I said, deciding to ignore the question and pushed on ahead. ¡°No fair¡± she stomped, her voice echoing after me. ¡°I answered your question¡± she complained. She was talking to the air though as I was already some distance ahead. ¡°Wait for me!¡± she yelled as she chased after me. After more walking, a foul stench hit us. It smelled like a vile mix of waste, sewage and stagnant water. My hand instinctively moved to cover my nose from this disgusting smell that permeated the air. Beside me, Estella pressed her arm against her face. We looked at each other in silent understanding. We¡¯d reached the sewers "Thanks for guiding me here," I said, my voice muffled behind my hand. "I can manage from here." Estella''s eyebrows shot up. She slid to my side and puffed up her chest dramatically. ¡°Oh?¡± She pouted, tilting her head ¡°Done with me already?¡± Her playful tone made my hair stand and my face heat up. I jerked away, uncomfortable with her proximity. She giggled in response, clearly enjoying my reaction. "It''s not that," I said, shaking my head. "You¡¯ve done enough to help. I don¡¯t want to trouble you any longer." ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± she insisted, shrugging nonchalantly. ¡°I want to help.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not safe.¡± I pressed. The winds from the tunnel carried with it hints of distant screams and other unsettling sounds. Estella smirked, ¡°You worry too much.¡± "I can protect myself." Her hands flew to her waist, fingers curling around her chakrams. She drew her weapons, spun around, and assumed a fighting stance that was both poised and deadly. ¡°You don¡¯t need to babysit me¡±. I rubbed my temples. Why was she so insistent on following me? Her eager smile triggered a memory...
"Child, what do you do when a beautiful woman approaches you at a party?" That man asked as he took a sip from his glass of wine. "Ask for her number?" I answered, young and naive. He sighed dramatically, swirling the ruby liquid in his glass. "No, you run¡­ Look around you. What do you see?" We stood at the edge of a high-society gathering, marble floors gleaming beneath crystal chandeliers. I watched a beautiful woman in red silk work her way through the crowd, leaving besotted men in her wake. "A successful businesswoman?" I ventured. That man''s laugh was soft and sharp as broken glass. "Look closer. Notice how she touches each mark exactly three times? How her eyes never quite match her smile?" The woman''s hand brushed another wealthy target''s arm. Like clockwork: shoulder, wrist, chest. Three touches. "She''s good," that man continued. "Top-tier honey trap. Already lifted two watches and a wallet." He tilted his head. "Ah, and there''s her partner by the service entrance." I spotted the hidden earpiece now, the calculated drift of her movements. "She''s running a con." "Love is the oldest con in existence, child." Ice clinked against crystal as he finished his drink. "The heart sees what it wants to see. That''s why it''s so dangerous." The woman''s mark was signing something on a napkin now, thoroughly ensnared. "Remember," that man''s voice dropped lower. "In our world, genuine affection is a weapon that can be turned against you. The only time you can risk it is when you''re absolutely certain it can never be used to destroy you." The woman in red disappeared through a service door, her night''s work complete. Her latest victim still stared after her, love-struck. "Now," that man straightened his cufflinks, "shall we go recover those watches before she fences them? Consider it a practical lesson."
The memory faded. Right, never trust a beautiful woman who approaches first. But if this was just a game, just lines of code with a pretty character model, what¡¯s the worst that could happen? Right? I decided not to think about it anymore as I turned towards the sewer entrance and descended the stone steps into the sewers. ¡°Come on¡± I called out over my shoulder. Behind me, I heard her footsteps quicken as she followed, a grin evident in her tone. ¡°Right behind you.¡±
Estella Saltator has joined the party
Name: Estella Saltator
Base Class: Dancer
Race : Human
Elemental Affiliation: Dark
Advanced Class: None
Level : 5
The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Talents
STR: C
INT: C
CON : C
DEX : A
Main stats
HP: 120
MP : 15
ATK : 13
M.ATK : 13
R.ATK: 25
DEF: 14
M.DEF: 12
The sewers stretched out before us like a vast, decaying labyrinth. The air was thick and oppressive, heavy with moisture and the stench of decay. We moved cautiously along the narrow walkway, our footsteps echoing ominously. Pale green light from patches of phosphorescent mold cast an eerie glow, barely illuminating our path. ¡°So where are all the rats?¡± I asked, breaking the tense silence Estella turned to me, her eyes catching the eerie green light. "Why the rush? Where''s your sense of adventure?" She grinned, seemingly oblivious to our grim surroundings. I gestured at the dank tunnel around us. "Have you seen where we are?" She laughed, the sound echoing off the slimy walls. "Oh, I''ve seen it. Smelled it too. But come on, isn''t this exciting? We''re in the deepest part of the Undercity. Few people come here." "I can see why," I muttered. "Most people prefer their adventures with less... Eau de sewer." "Noctus," Estella whispered, her hand on my arm. "Do you hear that?" I nodded, head tilted to catch the sound. A deep growl rumbled from the darkness ahead, making my skin crawl. Something massive dragged itself into view - a twisted thing of muscle and scale that belonged in nightmares. Slime dripped from its reptilian hide, and beneath ridged brows, its eyes burned toxic green. Each breath revealed rows of yellowed fangs, worn and chipped but still deadly sharp, clicking together as if already tasting its next meal.
Enemy Detected!
Sewer Lizard
Level: 6
Threat Level: low
A twisted reptile mutated by generations in the toxic sewers. Once a common lizard, now a deadly predator that has grown to monstrous proportions.
A level 6 sewer lizard. After facing that light zombie in the desert, this should be child''s play. My hand moved instinctively to activate spellblade, mana gathering at my fingertips, but I stopped myself. The last time I''d used it, the skill had drained nearly eighty percent of my mana in one go. Down here in these tunnels, with who knows what waiting in the shadows, burning through my reserves on a basic enemy would be asking for trouble. No, it would be better to pace myself. Before I could settle on a strategy, Estella darted forward. "I''ll handle this one!¡±
Chakram Dance
Estella threw her chakrams at the lizard and began to dance on the spot. Her arms swept in elegant arcs and her feet traced complex patterns on the floor. Every motion of hers seemed to control the chakrams, as though they were connected to her. They intertwined around the lizard, spiraling so fast that I could only see a dizzying dance of steel. The lizard roared. Its elongated limbs tensed, and then it charged. It moved with terrifying speed that left a blur in its wake. Nevertheless, it was unable to disrupt Estella''s dance. As the lizard bore down on her, the web of chakrams tightened. A guttural cry escaped the lizard as the sound of tearing flesh filled the air. It was death by a thousand cuts. The chakrams darted in and out, finding gaps between scales, slicing through the softer flesh of the creature. Estella¡¯s dance became a brutal choreography of precision, each motion unleashing another wave of attacks. With a final, sharp clap of her hands, the chakrams came together at the creature¡¯s throat. There was a gurgling roar as the lizard collapsed, its massive body convulsing in its last moments. Estella caught her chakrams as they returned to her, her chest heaving with exertion. She stumbled forward, sweat rolling down her face but still managed to turn around and give a bow. With one arm raised high and one swept low, there was an undeniable grace to her victory stance. ¡°Ten points for Estella.¡± I clapped, impressed by her graceful triumph. "What can I say? The sewers are just another stage, and every monster''s a critic." With the lizard slain, we continued down the path. As we went further in, the walkway became increasingly derelict, narrow, crumbling, and slippery. Dark water trickled through narrow, uneven channels carved into the floor, creating an ever-present, sluggish gurgling sound. "Watch your-" I started to warn as Estella''s foot slipped on a wet stone. But before I could finish, she''d already turned the slip into a fluid spin. She landed perfectly on one foot, arms extended like she was center stage at the Moonless Tavern. "Nice save," I said, lowering my outstretched hand. "A dancer never trips," she grinned, then caught my expression. "What, worried about me?" "Just didn''t want to fish you out of the sewage." She spun ahead with a laugh. "Aw, so you do care." I rolled my eyes but found myself smiling anyway. The path ahead split into two narrow corridors. On the left, the tunnel sloped downward, disappearing into deeper shadows, while the right seemed to curve sharply, the faint sound of trickling water echoing from within. ¡° Left or right¡± Estella darted her finger between the two routes, unsure which one to pick ¡°Just follow the trail¡± I replied, pointing at the muddy rat paw prints on the ground which disappeared down the right path. However, it wasn¡¯t just the vermin tracks that caught my attention. I knelt and inspected the trail.
Inspect
The world around me sharpened into crystalline focus. Every depression in the mud became a story written in perfect detail. The rat tracks were numerous but recent, their edges still crisp in the damp soil. But there, intersecting the chaotic scatter of tiny paw prints, two sets of human tracks stood out. The first set was likely male. Heavy armored boots, size eleven, leaving deep impressions in the mud. The right footprints pressed deeper than the left, suggesting he favored that leg. More weight was distributed on his right side too, probably carrying a sword on that side. A knight, maybe, or at least someone with combat training. The second set was lighter, more graceful. Size seven boots that barely disturbed the surface while trailing behind the first. Harder to read, but probably female. The way they stayed close together, always within supporting distance showed they were a party, likely a classic tank-healer combination. I reached out to the tracks with my index finger, feeling it. The moisture in the soil had yet to dry, indicating their presence mere moments before. Based on track clarity, probably within the last 15 minutes. I straightened up and gestured for Estella to follow. With a nod, she fell into step beside me as we cautiously moved forward. The tunnel gradually opened into a massive chamber; its vaulted ceiling was lost in darkness. Unlike the narrow passages, this space felt ancient, with crumbling stone columns rising from murky depths. The drip of water echoed like a broken clock counting down.
Warning! Dangerous Enemy Nearby
I froze at the system notification. Years of gaming had taught me that sudden warnings in empty rooms meant only one thing: boss fight. A violent splash erupted as a massive shape exploded from one of the pools, sending waves of filthy water surging toward us. Instinctively, I grabbed Estella''s arm and pulled her back just in time as the creature landed with a bone-rattling thud in front of us. It stood, towering and malformed, like a monstrous dog, but easily the size of a bear. Its skin, slick and hairless was covered in festering sores that oozed green goo. Milky eyes rolled aimlessly in its skull, but its nose twitched frantically, sniffing the air for its prey.
Enemy Detected!
Greater Sewer Hound - Elite Monster
Level: 8
Threat Level: Moderate
Heightened Smell: Immune to stealth and invisibility
A twisted mutation born from centuries of exposure to dark magic and toxic waste. Once a regular dog, now warped beyond recognition by the corrupting influence of the sewers. Despite its blindness, its heightened sense of smell makes it a lethal predator in its underground domain
We drew our weapons. Chapter 16: Good Doggo ¡°What is that thing?¡± I asked as we circled the monstrous dog, our feet splashing through the sewage-tainted puddles. The chamber''s echo made its growls sound even more terrifying. ¡°Well, doggos are better than rats don¡¯t you think.¡± Estella said, that familiar performance-ready grin spreading across her face. She was enjoying this. ¡°I prefer cats,¡± I said, keeping my sword between me and those massive teeth. ¡°Smaller, cleaner, less likely to eat me.¡± The dog''s head turned to face us, its nose twitching in the damp sewer air. The beast locked onto our scent and let out a deafening growl that rumbled throughout the chamber, sending ripples across the shallow puddles at our feet. "Looks like it noticed us," Estella said. Her voice lost its playful tone and her demeanor turned serious. She shifted her stance and steadied herself on the slippery floor
Chakram Dance
Estella threw her chakrams at the dog. They flew through the air spinning towards their target. For a second, it looked like a perfect attack, but the dog was ready for it. Its keen senses tracked the weapons'' approach, and with one casual swipe of its massive paw, it batted the chakrams away like children''s toys. The weapons clattered against the stone floor. ¡°Might need your help for this one Noctus¡± Estella''s confident expression faded into one of concern. ¡°Watch out!¡± I warned. The dog crouched, priming its strength, and pounced onto Estella. I rushed in front of her and rose my sword in defence. Its massive jaw clashed against my sword. The blade cut into its gums, drawing greenish-red blood, but the dog was unfazed. With a vicious shake of its head, it sent me flying. I slammed into the wet stone floor, my armor scraping against the rough surface. ¡°Noctus, are you ok?¡± Estella rushed over to support me, pulling me to my feet even as her eyes tracked the beast¡¯s movements. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I grunted, picking up my sword. ¡°I¡¯ll keep it busy. Go for its flank.¡± Estella nodded, picked up her chakrams, and dashed off to its side. I charged forward, swinging my sword with reckless abandon. The blade sank into the dog''s side, and the creature howled in pain. "Estella, now!" I shouted, struggling to keep the monster at bay. With practiced grace, Estella spun into action. Her chakrams sliced through the air, embedding themselves into the creature¡¯s flank. However, even this was not enough. The sewer dog yelped and snapped its jaws in her direction. It shifted its priority to her and began to give chase. ¡°Be careful¡± I yelled. "Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m good with dogs" Estella¡¯s reactions were fast and she was already on the move, leading the beast on a dance around the chamber. In pure speed, the dog was faster but Estella was able to compensate with her agility. She spun and twirled in rapid succession, each time narrowing avoiding the dog¡¯s strikes.
Dance of Evasion
Successful dodge x3
While dodging, she made a series of complex hand sigils which caused her chakrams to whirl back to life. They dislodged themselves from the dog¡¯s flank and flew back to her hands. Blood leaked out of the dog¡¯s wound, dripping onto the cavern floor. I took advantage of the distraction, circling to the beast''s rear. The sword felt heavy in my hands, but I forced myself to focus. As Estella darted in for another attack, I struck. My blade sank into the creature''s haunch. It roared a sound that shook loose debris from the ceiling and whirled to face me. Still too shallow. Our strikes were insufficient to cause significant damage. ¡°Aim for its weak spot¡± I yelled ¡°Where?¡± she asked. She retrieved her chakrams and scanned the target for an opening. "Its eyes," I said instinctively. In my experience, there wasn''t an opponent whose eyes you couldn''t cut. But something made me hesitate. I studied the creature more carefully.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Inspect
The world sharpened into focus. The beast''s eyes caught my attention first. Pure white orbs that lacked any trace of iris or pupil. Dead eyes. Blind eyes. The complete absence of reaction when I waved my sword confirmed it. This creature wasn''t tracking us by sight at all. Its nose, however, told a different story. The wet black surface twitched constantly, nostrils flaring with each movement we made. Minute muscle contractions around its muzzle tracked our position perfectly, even when we weren''t moving. The way its head turned exactly toward us, following our every step without relying on vision or sound... "No, its nose," I corrected myself, the realization hitting me. "A dog''s real superpower is its sense of smell. It''s tracking us by scent. If we take that away, we have a chance!" Estella made use of the dog¡¯s attention on me to make her move. She leapt, using the dog''s own back as a springboard, and launched herself towards its head. Mid-flight, she hurled both chakrams. They spun in perfect synchronization, striking the beast''s sensitive nose with pinpoint accuracy. The sewer dog reared back, pawing at its ruined snout. I took advantage of this to press the attack, hacking at its legs. With its sense of smell ruined, the dog flew into shock and thrashed wildly. "Back off!" I shouted to Estella, narrowly dodging a flailing limb. "It''s gone berserk!" We retreated to the edge of the chamber. The sewer dog''s frenzy was terrifying to behold, jaws snapping at empty air as it tried desperately to locate us without its sense of smell. But such violent movements were unsustainable. Gradually, its movements slowed, its howls of rage giving way to whimpers of pain and confusion. Eventually, it collapsed to the ground, its huge form heaving with exhausted breaths as it tried to lick its ruined snout with its tongue. I moved in to finish it off but Estella grabbed my arm and held me back. ¡°It¡¯s already over,¡± she said while shaking her head. "Look at it. It''s not evil. It¡¯s just another creature trying to survive down here. We''ve taken away its ability to hunt. That''s punishment enough."
Level Up
Noctus has gained a level
Estella has gained a level
Status Update
Noctus HP: 64/145 - Moderate damage from impact and dog bite
Estella HP: 102/130 - Light damage from debris and exertion
Status Effect: Both experiencing mild fatigue (-5% to all stats for 10 minutes)
I wiped the sweat from my brow and took a moment to catch my breath. Now that the immediate danger had passed, I could properly take in our surroundings. The chamber bore the scars of our battle with deep claw marks that scored the walls, and the shallow water rippled with lingering turbulence. "Let me check that wound," Estella said, approaching me with concern. "It''s nothing," I started to say, but winced as she pressed gently against my side where the dog had thrown me. "Nothing, huh?" She raised an eyebrow and reached into her pack. "Here, drink this." She handed me a small vial of red liquid. The familiar warmth of the healing potion spread through my body, dulling the sharp pain in my side to a manageable ache. I rotated my shoulder, testing the restored mobility. The worst of the damage was healed, though a phantom ache remained where the dog''s teeth had met my armor. "Better?" Estella asked. "Good enough to move." I flexed my sword hand, ensuring my grip was steady. "We''ve lost enough time to that oversized mutt."
Status Update
Noctus HP: 89/145 - Residual soreness
Estella HP: 102/130 - Light fatigue
Status Effect: Battle Fatigue cleared
We made our way to the chamber''s exit, keeping a wary eye on the dog. The creature barely seemed to notice our departure, too focused on its wounds to pay us any mind. Only when we''d put enough distance between us and the injured beast did I crouch down to examine the ground. The narrow tunnel was damp but navigable, with just enough headroom to stand. The tracks we''d been following were still here. That familiar size eleven boots with the right-side weight distribution, followed by the lighter size seven prints. But something had changed in their pattern. "Look at this," I murmured, tracing the air above the impressions. "They were walking before, but here..." I pointed to where the stride length suddenly increased. "They started running." The varying depths of their footprints told a story of sudden haste, deeper heel strikes, more scattered patterns, and signs of urgency. Estella crouched beside me. "Maybe they ran into something too. That doggo wasn''t exactly friendly with us, could have chased them as well." She peered down the dark tunnel ahead. "Or something worse." I nodded, studying the walls of the tunnel. "Or they could have heard our fight with the dog. The echo in these tunnels carries far." "How far ahead do you think they are now?" She asked. "The moisture in these prints is still fresh, but that dog cost us time." I stood, brushing mud from my knees. "Maybe twenty minutes? Thirty at most." "We should keep moving then." "Agreed. Though I''m starting to think these sewers have more than just a rat problem." "I wouldn''t mind playing with another doggo though." "No... just no." Chapter 17: Bunnies and Elves I kept my eyes on the tracks as the tunnel narrowed once again. The boot prints were getting fresher - more defined edges, deeper impressions in the muck. We were gaining on them. Movement caught my eye. Rats. They scurried in the shadows, quickly disappearing into cracks in the walls. Unlike the bloated horrors we''d fought earlier, these looked almost normal. Well, as normal as rats could look in a place like this. "Finally," I whispered under my breath. After hours of trudging through substances I desperately hoped were just water, we''d found what we came for. I studied their movement patterns, noting how they seemed to flow toward something ahead. An uneasy feeling formed within me, rats didn''t gather without reason. We quickened our pace, the promise of ending our sewer ordeal spurring us on. The air grew thicker here, carrying new scents, ozone and something else, something that reminded me of burnt sugar. The rats became more numerous, their tiny forms fleeing from our approach with increasing urgency. However, as we moved through the dim corridors, the sound of combat caught my attention. Not the scrabbling of rats or the distant drip of water, but the unmistakable ring of steel on... something wet. The echoes bounced off the ancient stones, making it difficult to gauge distance. Estella withdrew her chakrams. "Sounds like our mysterious friends found trouble." I drew my sword with a sigh. "And here I was hoping they''d just gotten lost and stopped for a tea party." We rounded the corner and the tunnel opened into a larger chamber. Two figures stood back-to-back in the center, surrounded by gelatinous creatures.
Acidic Slime
Level : 3
Special Ability: Acid Splash
Warning: These amorphous creatures secrete a highly corrosive substance that can melt through armor and flesh. Exercise caution when engaging in close combat.
Slime monsters. Their semi-transparent bodies revealed partially dissolved bones and armor from previous victims. Acidic droplets sizzled where they touched the stone floor, leaving pockmarked trails in their wake. The man at the center wore a set of iron plate mail, clearly identifying him as a knight. He stood lithe but strong. Two tall, velvety rabbit ears poke through his helm, twitching at every sound. A beast-kin: bunny variant. Rare to see one specced as a knight class, but the way he handled his sword showed it wasn''t just for show. Beside him, the lady radiated magical energy that made my skin prickle. She was clad in dark flowing robes of deep purple embroidered with shadowy runes and symbols¡ªspirals, eyes, and crescent moons. Her ears were long and elegantly pointed, marking her as an elf. The shadow magic crackling around her fingers suggested some variant of dark magic user, probably a shadow priest or similar class. ¡°Lysa, we need to move faster,¡± the man urged. His sword cleaved through another wave of slimes, his movements precise but slowing. Sweat darkened the fur around his rabbit ears as fatigue crept in. "I''m trying, Tirion!" Lysa''s voice cracked with frustration. Her slender elven fingers traced arcane patterns in the air, but the movements were becoming erratic. Purple shadows flickered weakly around her hands. Tirion''s ears twitched at her distress. "I know, love," he murmured, his voice gentle despite the chaos. "Just breathe. Focus on the shadows. You''ve got this." Lysa¡¯s fingers crackled with dark energy, but it fizzled out shortly after. ¡°I¡¯m out of mana.¡± The slimes gathered around them, their bodies undulated in disturbing synchronization, merging and splitting apart like a living tide of caustic jelly. One lunged at Tirion, its mass elongating into a spear-like tendril that barely missed his face. Where it struck the wall behind him, the stone bubbled and smoked. Tirion grimaced, wiping sweat and blood from his brow. ¡°Lysa, pass me a health potion, will you?¡± He called back, trying to keep his voice steady, though the strain was evident. Lysa''s face fell as she ransacked her pack, her long ears drooping. ¡°We¡¯re out,¡± she said, her voice laced with regret. ¡°That was the last one.¡± Tirion gripped his sword tightly, stepping in front of Lysa instinctively. ¡°This might be a little tough¡± The slimes closed in with increasing speed, utilizing their advantage in numbers. Lysa pressed her back against Tirion''s, a sigh of resignation on her face. ¡°I love you,¡± Lysa whispered, wrapping her arms around him in a deep hug from behind "I know," Tirion replied softly, one hand leaving his sword to squeeze her fingers. His ears stood alert, tracking the sounds of approaching death. "Always have." I watched their final embrace with a strange tightness in my chest. Lysa''s robes rustled against Tirion''s armor as she pressed closer to him, and I noticed how naturally her chin found its place between his shoulder blades, like she''d done this a thousand times before. His rabbit ears drooped down to brush against her elvish ones and despite everything, the familiar touch made her smile. We couldn''t let it end like this. I caught Estella''s eye and she nodded, already reading my intention. I lifted my hand to the stone surface. ¡°Knock Knock¡±. I rapped my knuckles against the tunnel wall. The sound echoed across the room , catching their attention. They looked over at us, their expressions a mix of hope and surprise. "Sorry, I hope I''m not interrupting," I said. "But it looks like you could use a hand." Estella emerged beside me, chakrams in hand. "Or four," she added with a grin. I assessed the situation quickly, reaching into my pack for potions. Four vials - two health, two mana. They arced through the air in paired trajectories. "Catch!" Tirion plucked the vials from the air with ease. He downed two himself and passed the rest to Lysa beside him. She broke her combat stance just long enough to drink both potions in quick succession, pressing the empties back into his hand without a word. The whole exchange took maybe two seconds - the kind of seamless coordination you only get from partners who''ve fought together for years. With our new allies refreshed, Estella stepped forward. "I''ll play support," she said.
Sing : Song of valor
Party stats have increased by 20%
Estella started to sing a melodious tune which bolster our spirits. Her song was uplifting and I felt a surge of strength flowing through my body, turning my exhaustion into renewed vigor. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Dance of distraction
Enemy stats have decreased by 20%
Then, she started to sway gracefully. Her movements were hypnotic, drawing the attention of the slimes. Their amorphous bodies seemed to quiver in confusion, their attacks becoming sluggish and uncoordinated. Tirion surged forward, reinvigorated by the health potion. His blade sang through the air, carving through gelatinous bodies with precision. Gone was the exhausted warrior from moments ago, this was a knight at his prime. "Watch out for their acid!" he called out, narrowly dodging a glob of corrosive slime. "It''ll eat through armor and flesh alike!" I nodded, positioning myself at his flank. My sword felt lighter somehow, energized by Estella''s song. A massive slime hurled itself at my face, its body distorting mid-leap. I sidestepped, letting momentum carry it past me. The creature took a full two seconds to reshape itself, leaving plenty of time to bring my blade down in a clean arc. The creature split perfectly in two, its halves dissolving into harmless puddles. Behind us, Lysa regained her composure. Her hands glowed with dark energy as she closed her eyes and went into a prayer. She chanted in a language I didn''t recognize, gradually chanting faster and faster until she yelled out:
Shadow Crush
Pure darkness erupted from her fingertips and suddenly, tentacles of darkness shot forth, wrapping around several slimes. With a gesture of her hand, the shadows constricted. The monsters didn''t even have time to react before they were crushed into nothingness, leaving only fading wisps of dark magic in their wake. "Nice trick," I called out, impressed. Lysa managed a smile tinged with exhaustion. "A gift from the Shadow Lord,¡± she said as she slumped against a wall. ¡°Effective, but it drains me quickly." As we fought, I began to identify our path to victory. The slimes, while numerous, weren''t particularly strong. Their attacks were predictable - straight-line lunges followed by a recovery period. The real danger wasn''t their individual strength, it was the risk of being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. But if we could cluster them together, their very numbers would work against them. They''d get in each other''s way, making it impossible for more than the outer layer to attack effectively. "Tirion!" I shouted over the sounds of battle. "Can you draw them together? I have an idea!" Tirion¡¯s ears perked up in understanding. Without hesitation, he let out a battle cry and charged straight into the heart of the slime horde, his armor clanging purposefully as he moved.
Taunt
Slime aggro to Tirion increased by 30%
The monsters swarmed toward the noise and motion, forming a tightening circle around him. Just as I''d hoped, they seemed to operate on basic stimulus response rather than any real intelligence. "Estella," I signalled to her, "on my mark, throw your chakrams in a wide arc!" She flashed me a thumbs up, already spinning her weapons into a ready position. "Lysa, can you manage one more shadow crush?" I asked. The shadow cleric gritted her teeth. "I''ll try my best." As Tirion continued to draw the slimes in, I raised my sword high. "Now!" Several things happened at once. Estella''s chakrams flew out in a wide circle, corralling the slimes even tighter. Lysa''s shadow tendrils erupted from the ground, further constricting the monsters. Tirion and I brought our swords down with all our might. A wave of dark energy exploded outward from the impact point. It split into smaller rays of darkness and rained over the slimes, causing them to explode into thousands of harmless droplets. For a moment, all was silent save for our heavy breathing. Then Tirion let out a whoop of victory, which Estella quickly joined. Lysa sagged to her knees, but her exhausted smile said everything. "Thank you," she managed.
Tirion Leicester has joined the party
Lysa Hawkeye has joined the party
Name: Tirion Leicester
Base Class Knight
Race : Bunny-kin
Elemental Affiliation: Earth/Dark
Advanced Class: None
Level : 8
Talents
STR: A
INT: C
CON : A
DEX : C
Main Stats
HP: 114/314
MP: 10/10
ATK: 19
M.ATK: 4
R.ATK: 7
DEF: 41
M.DEF: 22
Name: Lysa Hawkeye
Base Class Cleric
Race : Elf
Elemental Affiliation: Dark
Advanced Class: None
Level : 7
Talents
STR: C
INT: A
CON : C
DEX : B
Main Stats
HP: 70/130
MP: 8/35
ATK: 13
M.ATK: 27
R.ATK: 15
DEF: 14
M.DEF: 22
Chapter 18: I hope you like rats The battle was over. We stood there, gasping for air, utterly spent and coated in the sticky remains of vicious slimes. The acrid smell of the sewers seemed even more pungent now, mingling with the odd, chemical odor left behind by the defeated slimes. "Well," Estella was the first to break the silence, attempting to wring the slime out of her once-vibrant hair that was now a tangled mess of slime and sewer water. "That was certainly... messy." Tirion chuckled. He held up his sword, watching as strings of slime dripped from the blade. He sighed and started carefully cleaning it with a piece of cloth. "Indeed," Tirion agreed. ¡±But we fought well together. Most groups I''ve seen would''ve fallen apart in there.¡± I smiled in acknowledgment, feeling a strange sense of pride at the compliment. My gaze then turned to Lysa, who was leaning on the wall, looking sick and tired. "Are you alright?" I asked, concerned. I stepped towards her; my hand half-raised as if to offer support. "I¡¯ll be fine¡­ just need a moment." Lysa muttered, leaning heavily against the wall. Her usually sharp eyes were unfocused. "The Shadow Lord''s gifts always come with a price." Tirion was at her side in an instant, his earlier jovial demeanor replaced by concern. He placed a supportive hand on her shoulder, and I noticed how she leaned into his touch ever so slightly. There was clearly a deep bond between these two. "Speaking of which," I said, unable to hold back my curiosity "what brings you two to the sewers? I''m guessing this isn''t just a casual stroll through the sewers." ¡°On the contrary, I couldn¡¯t think of a more romantic date location. The ambiance, the aroma, the charming local wildlife...¡± Tirion gestured at the surroundings. ¡°Oww¡± Tirion clutched his head in pain as Lysa gave him a playful smack. She rolled her eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile on her lips. ¡°We¡¯re adventurers. We came here to explore the sewers but it seems we bit off more than we could chew. Thanks for coming to our rescue¡± She glanced at me while nodding her head. "You¡¯re welcome." I returned her nod. ¡°It¡¯s strange though,¡± she raised her hand to her chin, brow furrowing in thought. ¡°We weren¡¯t expecting the monsters to be here in such number.¡± Her eyes swept over the remnants of the slimes. ¡°And let¡¯s not forget their increased hostility,¡± she added, her tone more assertive this time. ¡°There is something down here that is affecting the creatures, and it¡¯s not good.¡± Estella glanced my way. "We''ve seen some unusual stuff too," she muttered, her usual cheerfulness dampened. I shuddered at the memories of the mutated sewer dog we''d encountered earlier. ¡°Is that not normal? You did mention there would be monsters here.¡± ¡°Yes, but not like this.¡± Estella turned to me, frowning. "I''ve lived in the Undercity my whole life, Noctus. I''ve seen the creatures that call these sewers home. But this... it¡¯s just wrong. They''re getting bigger, more aggressive, more...¡± She struggled for words. "...wrong, somehow." Estella¡¯s words sounded like an ominous foreboding. A silence fell upon the group as we were left to ponder the implications. Something was changing in the Undercity that was affecting its inhabitants. It was Tirion who first cast away the silence. "We should report these changes to the Guild," he said while looking at Lysa who gave a nod in return. "But while we¡¯re here, what brought you two down here? He asked, glancing between Estella and me. I paused, suddenly self-conscious. How could I explain our quest without sounding ridiculous? Admitting we were here for rats didn''t seem very heroic. "We are¡ª" ¡°We¡¯re looking for rats¡± Estella proudly proclaimed as she interrupted me mid-sentence. I fought the urge to facepalm. Of course she''d just blurt it out like that. I glanced at Tirion and Lysa, searching their faces for any sign of judgment or amusement, but their expressions remained neutral. Maybe I was overthinking things. "Oh, if you''re looking for rats, I think I saw a nest over there," Tirion said, gesturing down one of the darker tunnels. "Here, come, I''ll show you." He led us down another tunnel which opened into what must have been an ancient part of the sewers. Pumping machinery, more rust than metal now, lined the walls like skeletal ribcages. The air had that specific kind of thickness that came from centuries of accumulated filth and decay, different from the sharper stink of the regular sewers. Lysa pressed closer to Tirion,"There''s... something strange about this place," she murmured. Before she could add another word, a high-pitched squeaks echoed off the rusted metal. There - a flash of movement between the pipes. A fat grey rat scurried along one of the lower ducts, probably heading back to its nest. The rat paused, whiskers twitching as if pondering its route.
Rat
Level: 1
HP: 1/1
Threat Level: None
It¡¯s a rat
Perfect. Finally, a chance at our target. I''d played enough stealth games to know the basics - stay low, move slow, watch your target''s pattern. I held up my hand, signaling the others to quiet down and crept forward, trying to move as quietly as my boots would allow. In my peripheral vision, I spotted Estella''s silent movement as she positioned herself by a nearby pipe, ready to cut off the rat''s escape route. Just a few more steps... The rat was still there, pawing at something between the pipes, entirely focused on its scavenging. My boots felt impossibly loud against the stone floor, each step threatening to give me away.
Stealth Check Failed
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The notification flashed just as my foot caught a loose stone. The rat''s head snapped up, eyes fixing right on me. No more subtle approach then. I lunged forward, abandoning stealth for speed. My boot came down hard, and the crack of bone produced a sickening sound effect. I knelt beside the carcass, trying not to think too hard about what I was doing as I removed the tail.
Quest Update: A Witch''s Bargain
Progress: 1/1 rat''s tail obtained
Return to Agatha
"Not exactly the epic boss battle I was expecting," I muttered. At least it was over. But as I straightened up, rat tail in hand, the torches flickered and died. A chill crept through the chamber, raising goosebumps on my arms. The temperature plummeted, and my breath began to fog in front of my face.
Warning! Anomalous Energy Detected
Caution! Unknown Magical Signature
"Something''s wrong," Lysa whispered, her voice tense. "This magic... it''s not like anything I''ve felt before." The shadows in the corners of the chamber began to move, converging overhead to form a sphere of pure darkness. The pressure in the chamber increased, making my ears pop and forcing us all to take shallow breaths.
Warning! Powerful Entity Approaching
Threat Level: Extreme
Combat Not Recommended
"Everyone, back to back," Tirion commanded, his shield raised. His ears twitched nervously, sensing danger from all directions. The sphere of darkness pulsed once, twice, then began to unravel like a blooming flower of night. As it peeled open, a figure wearing black robes and a mask emerged from its core. He descended to the ground with unnatural grace and touched down without a sound. "It appears we have visitors." The voice was cultured, almost pleasant, but carried an undercurrent of something ancient and malevolent. Each word seemed to echo slightly out of sync with itself as if multiple voices were speaking almost, but not quite, in unison. ¡°Who are you?¡± I demanded. The figure tilted his head slightly. "I should be asking you that," he replied in amusement. "You come into my lab, destroy my toys, and now you dare to question me?" With a gesture that seemed almost lazy, he raised his hand. Black flames erupted from his palm, flames that seemed to burn reality itself. With a casual flick, the flames expanded into a roaring wall that cut off our escape route. The heat from them felt wrong¡ªnot warm, but somehow empty, like they were burning away the very concept of temperature.
Warning! Exit Blocked
Unable to escape combat
¡°Do you know how much effort I put into those specimens? Just a bit more refining and I could create monstrosities even greater than those of the God of Light¡¯s himself,¡± he added. Sensing the danger this man posed, Tirion didn''t hesitate. He charged at the figure and swung his sword in a horizontal arc. But his blade passed harmlessly through the figure as if it was an illusion. The masked man phased right through the blade and with one hand to his back, toppled Tirion¡¯s to the ground using his momentum against him. ¡°Manners,¡± he hissed. "Tirion!" Lysa cried out, her hands already going through the motions to cast a spell. She began chanting the incantation but the masked man was prepared for her. With a flick of his fingers, an invisible wave of force slammed into her, hurling her against the chamber wall with a sickening thud. The masked man then turned towards me, or more specifically, to the rat tail I still clutched in my hand. "Seems you like rats," he said, his voice full of malice. "I''ll leave you with this gift." He raised his arm with theatrical slowness, then slashed it downward like an executioner''s blade. As his hand descended, he simply... vanished, leaving no trace of his presence save for the wall of black flame still blocking our exit. For a moment, there was silence. Then, a new sound went off - a rustling, scratching noise that surrounded us. My heart sank. The same skittering that had been music to my ears moments ago now filled me with dread. It was the revenge of the rats. A hundred, no, thousands of red eyes glowed eerily in the darkness, their high-pitched squeaks filling the air. From every crack and crevice in the walls, a flood of rats began to pour forth. They moved not as individuals, but as a single, writhing mass that surged towards us with terrifying speed. "By the Shadow Lord," Lysa whispered, pressing closer to Tirion. I watched in shock as the swarm drew closer. With each moment, more rats poured out from the darkness, their numbers multiplying rapidly. A relentless flood of vermin surged toward us, and as they approached, they began piling on top of each other. It was a relentless flood that threaten to engulf us. Then, in the heart of the swarm, something changed. The mass of rats began to move with an unnatural synchronization, as if guided by an invisible puppeteer. At first, it seemed random, rats climbing over each other in a frenzy, but then a pattern emerged. The swarm was no longer just spreading; it was building. The base formed first: a churning foundation of rats several meters wide, their bodies so tightly packed they appeared as a single undulating mass of fur and flesh. From this foundation, more rats climbed upward, cascading over each other like a waterfall in reverse. Bones crackled and popped as rats compressed together, forming dense muscle-like structures beneath the rippling fur. The tower of rats grew higher, taking shape with terrifying intelligence. Limbs emerged¡ªnot the tiny legs of individual rats, but massive appendages formed from hundreds of bodies working in unison. Each movement sent ripples through the collective mass, revealing glimpses of the thousands of tails now woven together into sinuous tendons. A head began to take shape at the top of the mass. Not a single rat''s head scaled up, but something far worse: a crown-like structure of interlinked bodies, with dozens of rats facing outward, their red eyes glowing in perfect synchronization. More rats filled in the gaps, creating a face that was neither one rat nor many, but a nightmarish amalgamation of both. The transformation reached its apex as a tail thick as a tree trunk whipped out from behind the creature, composed of thousands of smaller tails braided together into a single, powerful appendage. The final form stood nearly three stories tall, its body constantly shifting and reforming as individual rats moved within the greater whole, like muscles under skin. When it moved, it moved with impossible grace for its size. Each step was a coordinated effort of thousands of bodies, creating a fluid motion that seemed to defy the very nature of its cobbled existence. The rat king''s many eyes¡ªhundreds of them scattered across its form¡ªall focused on our group with a single, unified intelligence. A notification flashed before my eyes:
New Quest: Slay 1,000,000 Rats
Boss Battle Initiated: The Rat King
Level:10
Threat Level:High
Recommended Action: Retreat
Warning! Retreat Path Blocked
"Surely you must be joking," I mumbled under my breathe. Four fighters against a million rats. Estella''s chakrams were already spinning, creating a protective circle around her. "Well," she said, a hint of her usual humor in her voice despite the dire situation, "I guess now we know where all the rats in the Undercity have been hiding." Tirion had regained his feet, shield raised as he positioned himself in front of Lysa. Her whispered incantations grew stronger as purple energy gathered around her hands. "Any ideas?" he called out, his experienced eyes scanning for weaknesses in the approaching swarm. ¡°We fight,¡± I said. The flood of rats came crashing down on us. Chapter 19: The Rat King The rats hit us like a living tsunami, drowning us in an endless sea of black fur. The sheer pressure of the mass slammed into me, knocking me off my feet and sweeping me up. Sharp teeth grazed my skin, claws scrabbled across my arms and neck. I could feel their writhing bodies in my hair, creeping under my clothes, crawling across my face. My armor was useless against this foe which forced their way under every gap in my protection. The stench of wet fur and filth filled my lungs as I gasped for air. The swarm was burying me alive.
Damage taken: 0.2 x 427 rats
Status Effect: Overwhelmed - Movement speed reduced by 50%
Individually, the rats did no damage. But as hundreds of tiny claws tore at my skin, the damage notifications blurred together into a steady stream of red. Death by a thousand cuts wasn''t just a saying anymore. It was my reality. I desperately struggled, trying to regain my footing. My sword was dead weight. Without a firm footing, my swings lacked sharpness. It was like trying to cut water, a futile gesture against an enemy that flowed around every strike. Momentary ripples in the never-ending stream of bodies. Twisting, turning, I fought the rat swarm until my feet finally touched something solid. Ground. Sweet, blessed ground. I finally felt anchored, no longer adrift in the sea of bodies and was able to push back against the flow of rats.
Status Effect: Overwhelmed - Removed
Combat Stance Achieved
I planted my feet squarely on the ground and swung my sword ¨C once, twice, thrice. Each strike connected with satisfying resistance now, sending tiny bodies flying. The quest log flashed before my eyes.
Rats slain: 11/1,000,000
Rats slain: 18/1,000,000
Rats slain: 27/1,000,000
It was a grim reminder of the impossible task ahead. I did the math in my head. Nine rats per swing. Nine. Fucking. Rats. I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both. Over a hundred thousand swings to clear this nightmare? My arms would fall off first. Despair started to creep in, my mind racing ahead to the inevitable collapse of our defenses. This wasn''t just impossible, it was insane. "Everyone still breathing?" I called out, trying to keep the edge of panic from my voice. Beside me, Estella''s chakram¡¯s spun around her at a furious speed. They formed a lethal sphere of death that protected her from the swarm. Rats rushed in and fell, their bodies shredded to mince before they hit the ground. Not a single hair out of place, not one smudge on her clothes. Just graceful murder in motion. I was secretly impressed and jealous. Her little bubble of death looked way more comfortable than my current rat-covered situation. But it wasn''t enough. The rats kept coming. For every rat that fell, ten more poured in to fill the gap, each one desperately trying to sneak pass holes in her defence. A rain of blood fell upon Estella as the rats marched into her whirling meat grinder. But even with blood splattered over her, she maintained her grace. I watched her lick blood from her lips, a satisfied smile playing across her face. Maybe I should''ve been disturbed by how much she was enjoying this, but right now that was what we needed.
Rats slain: 357/1,000,000
Rats slain: 589/1,000,000
Rats slain: 1,099/1,000,000
¡°Keep it up, Estella!¡± I shouted through the chaos. Naturally as a dexterity class, she would be the best suited to this task. She glanced at me, her face calm, almost serene amid the carnage. ¡°Isn¡¯t this so exciting?¡± She smiled, blood-splattered but elegant, and kept tearing through the rats." ¡°You and I have different concepts of exciting,¡± I muttered, but couldn''t help grinning back. Her enthusiasm was infectious, even in this nightmare. Eventually, the rats gave up trying to penetrate her shield and detoured around her instead. With the rats no longer suiciding, the numbers slowed to a crawl once more.
Rats slain: 1,133/1,000,000
Rats slain: 1,149/1,000,000
The kill count mockingly ticked up. A drop in the ocean. "Stay behind me!" Tirion bellowed over the squealing chorus.
Cover
He knelt in front of Lysa with his shield that extended to the ground, protecting her from the worse of the flood. A thumping sound resonated as the rats slammed against his shield. Sweat plastered his fur to his face, but he didn''t give an inch. Behind him, Lysa face was pale as she frantically chanted out a spell. Her hands glowed with a black aura with streaks of purple. As her chant reached a crescendo, she let out a cry, ¡°Oh great shadow lord, please grant me strength.¡± The aura extended from herself and enveloped Tirion in its embrace. His ears perked up, and I swear his shield grew heavier, more solid.
Shadow Strength
Tirion STR increased by 30%
¡°Thank you love.¡± Renewed vigor surged through Tirion. He rose from his knee like a mountain coming to life, pushing forward against the swarm. The shield that had been holding steady now began to advance, forcing the rats back step by step.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. I started to regret not investing in a shield. The best defense is a good offense, after all. But now, watching Tirion''s unwavering stance, I was beginning to see the appeal of a solid defence. "We won''t last forever," Tirion''s grunted, each word punctuated by the sound of tiny bodies slamming against steel. "Any ideas?" I silently agreed with him. We were stabilizing, but against this relentless flood, it was only a matter of time before we ran out of stamina. Sweat stung my eyes as I scanned our surroundings, desperately searching for any advantage. That''s when I noticed it. The giant Rat King loomed over us. There was something about it that was different. Its eyes glowed with a cold intelligence, locking onto us, assessing. "Take out the big one!" I shouted and pointed at it. "It''s controlling them somehow!" Estella nodded. ¡°Cover me¡± Tirion immediately moved to shield her, with Lysa following close behind. "Whatever you''re planning, make it quick!" he barked, his shield groaning under the increased pressure. I locked eyes with Estella. No words were needed. She lowered her protective sphere and switched her chakrams to attack. They whirled towards the rat king, carving a path through the chittering horde. Swish, the blades passed through the giant rat. It killed a few rats in the amalgamation but otherwise did no lasting damage. "It''s not enough!" Estella cried, frustration evident in her voice. I lunged, aiming for its eye, every ounce of strength behind the blow. But the rat king was prepared. A tendril of rats whipped out, striking me down to the ground with a crunch. "Noctus!" Estella''s cried out and ran to my side. As I struggled to my feet, Lysa stepped forward. The air around her crackled with dark energy.
Shadow Crush
A massive spectral hand materialized above the rat king, slamming down on it with great force. The construct buckled, rats scattering from its form. For a heartbeat, I thought we had it, but the rats regrouped and the rat king was reformed. ¡°How do we kill this thing?¡± Tirion asked, his voice strained as he continued to defend against the flood. A rat slipped past his guard, sinking its teeth into his leg. He grunted in pain but held his ground. ¡°Do that a few more times, it seems effective¡± I asked Lysa Tirion''s head snapped towards me, his eyes blazing with concern. "Hey, it drains a lot out of her. Don''t push her too much!" "It''s okay, Tirion," Lysa reassured him, though her exhausted demeanor betrayed her words. She swayed slightly, steadying herself against his armored back. "I can manage. I still have a bit of mana left." We didn¡¯t need to trouble her though. In the next moment, the rat king let out a deafening roar that shook the earth. I''d heard a lot of horrible sounds in my life, the crunch of bones, the wet gurgle of a dying man, that awful laugh he always had during training. But this... this was wrong. The sound burrowed into my skull like thousands of tiny claws, scraping against the inside of my brain. I clutched my head in pain. The sewer walls trembled, stones grinding against each other as if trying to escape.
Roar : Tirion has been paralyzed with fear
Roar : Estella has been paralyzed with fear
Roar : Lysa has been paralyzed with fear
Skill Activated: Heart of Stone - Fear Resisted
Something inside me went cold and hard, and a numbness spread through my chest. My heart turned to stone, and the fear washed over me like water off glass. Heart of Stone, the skill I had learned back in the upper city, watching a noble girl abusing what used to be a person. The same emotional deadening, the same artificial calm. The others weren''t so lucky. Lysa crumpled like a puppet with cut strings, a sound catching in her throat that wasn''t quite a scream. Her eyes were those of a cornered animal, seeing something that would haunt her dreams for years. Estella''s dancing stopped mid-spin. She hit the ground hard, her chakrams clattering against stone as her body convulsed. The blood-splattered dancer who''d been laughing moments ago now curled into herself, whimpering. Only Tirion stayed standing, but barely. His shield arm shook so badly the metal clanked against his armor. His ears were pressed flat against his skull, but his stance remained solid. Even terrified, his training held, body positioned to protect Lysa, shield angled to deflect attacks. "You holding up?" I asked him. A sharp nod. "As long as... as I''m standing." His voice trembled, but his shield remained raised. "Good." I checked my mana reserves. "Because I''m about to do something stupid, and I need you to keep them safe while I do it." Another nod, shorter this time. No wasted movement. Even paralyzed with fear, he was still a knight first. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡± I took a deep breath. Behind me, three people lay broken by terror. Ahead stood a monster that could shatter minds with a scream. And here I was, walking toward it. As the only one unaffected, the burden fell upon me. The sea of rats parted as I approached, creating an unobstructed path to their master. Not a single attack, not one bite or scratch. Just silence and thousands of red eyes tracking my movement. The quiet felt worse than the earlier chaos, like walking to the gallows with an audience of vermin. Up close, I could see the individual rats that made up its form, their bodies twisted and fused in unnatural ways. An abomination that should never have existed. Then, it spoke. The Rat King''s voice crashed over us like a wave of broken glass, thousands of squeaks and chirps forming words that shouldn''t have been possible: "Such brave little prey, dancing in the dark." Each syllable was a discord of chattering teeth. "We have watched you. Studied you. The weakest one leads? How... amusing." "If I''m so weak, why do you need a million of you? Or are you afraid to face me alone?" The massive form rippled, rats flowing like liquid as it shifted. "Alone? We are never alone. We are us. And you..." A sound like rotting leaves scraping stone, its attempt at laughter. "You stand apart from your kind. Your darkness... it''s stolen, forced, bent to your will. Not earned, not given. What are you, little knight?" "Someone tired of cryptic monster monologues." I settled into a combat stance, raising my blade. ¡°Can we skip to the part where I kill you?¡± The countless eyes that made up its form glowed that eerie red. "Brave words. Empty words. We will add your flesh to our form, your bones to our throne. Your friends will watch, paralyzed, as you become part of our greater whole." "Sorry, Your Highness," I said, channeling mana into my blade. "I don''t do group projects."
Spellblade
Environmental Effect: Dark Resonance detected
The spell activated differently this time. Instead of the steady flow of power, mana surged through me like a broken dam. My sword hummed with energy, each pulse synchronized with the darkness of the Undercity. Here, surrounded by shadow, my spellblade felt supercharged, like the difference between a candle and a forest fire Black mist erupted from my blade, clouding the sewers. As I poured every last drop of my mana into the sword, it began to glow cherry-red, then white-hot, groaning under forces it was never designed to contain. The rats lining the sides began to panic, scurrying in confusion and fear. Even the Rat King recoiled, its many eyes widening as the power radiating from my blade grew unbearable. Its mass rippled with panic, trying to scatter. But it was too late. With a yell, I drove the overloaded blade into its core. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the world exploded. The sword detonated within the Rat King, releasing all the pent-up energy in a cataclysmic burst. A shockwave of shadow and fire erupted from my blade, disintegrating the rats that made up the Rat King''s form. As the explosion faded, I found myself on my knees, gasping for breath. My sword was gone, consumed in the blast. Where the Rat King had stood was now a scorched, empty space.
Common Iron Sword Durability: 0%
Common Iron Sword has been destroyed
I turned to look at my companions. The paralyzing effect of the roar had worn off, and they were staring at me in awe and disbelief. Estella was the first to speak, her voice cracking in confusion. She stared at the crater where the Rat King had been, then back at me. "Noctus... What was that?" Chapter 20: The solution to rats What was that indeed. As the adrenaline faded, my legs went weak. The surge of power I felt before was gone, replaced with an emptiness within me where my mana should be.
MP: 0/160
So this is what it was like to be out of mana. A textbook case of resource depletion, though experiencing it firsthand was... unpleasant.
Exhaustion
All stats -10%
But the real horror show lay at my feet. My broken blade lay in several pieces in front of me, its metal discolored and warped from the magical overload. I held the longest fragment in my hand while smaller chucks were on the ground like shattered glass. The crossguard had twisted at an odd angle, and the grip''s leather wrapping was scorched and peeling. I staggered, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. The mana exhaustion wasn''t helping, but the gut punch was staring at my shattered sword. Just the thought of having to replace yet another sword made me sick in stomach. Why is being a knight such an expensive profession? Damn. Whoever wrote the class description should have included "warning: rich people only" in the fine print. "Noctus!" Tirion''s voice echoed off the walls. I felt his powerful grip supporting me as I swayed, overcome by giddiness. ¡°Thanks,¡± I muttered under my breath as I held onto him. He guided me to a wall that I could sit and lean against. ¡°That was spellblade wasn¡¯t it?¡± Tirion asked. His eyes widened, his jaw slack. He stared at me like a priest witnessing a miracle. I offered a feeble nod, too exhausted to engage in conversation. ¡°What¡¯s spellblade¡± Estella asked, her curiosity piqued. She moved closer, unconsciously biting her lower lip." Tirion straightened, adopting what I''d begun to think of as his ''knight-instructor'' pose. ¡°Well, it¡¯s quite a common skill among knights,¡± he explained. ¡°Usually a knight doesn¡¯t have any use of mana. We prefer to make use of our physical attributes instead.¡± He swung his sword a few times as if to emphasize the point. ¡°Spellblade lets us draw from our mana and use that to strengthen our strikes. But the effects are usually subdued. In most cases, knights simply lack the mana reserves to properly utilize it.¡±
Spellblade
Tirion raised his sword, eyes narrowing as he focused. The gang watched his blade intently, eagerly anticipating another spectacle. Seconds ticked by. Nothing. Estella edged closer, squinting as she tiptoed and brought her face right up to the blade¡¯s surface ¡°Hmm, I guess it¡¯s shinier now.¡± Her tone was flat as she stepped back with a small shrug. ¡°It¡¯s ok, I know I can barely make my sword glow.¡± Tirion sighed. ¡°It¡¯s nothing more than a party trick. ¡°That¡¯s the thing though....¡± He paused as he stared at me, eyes wide with renewed amazement. His lips parted in silence, searching for the right words, then he shook his head, as if in disbelief ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like what you did.¡± His gaze lingered, more intense now. ¡° How¡­ how did you do it?¡± His voice lowered. ¡°Just who are you?¡± Estella settled beside me with a smile on her face. She inched closer, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress before gently touching my arm. "I knew there was something special about you." "Noctus, he came from beyond the gate." Her words bubbled with enthusiasm, pride radiating from every syllable Lysa, who had been quietly observing until now, suddenly perked up. ¡°Wait, what?¡± she blurted, leaning forward. ¡°He¡¯s from topside?¡± The word ''Topside'' hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. I could feel the atmosphere shift, awe and curiosity rippled through our small group. ¡°Well, that would explain a lot.¡± Tirion''s deep voice echoed off the sewer walls as he paced around the area. His heavy boots splashed in shallow puddles, the sound emphasizing the weight of his words.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Is coming from above really that unusual?¡± I interrupted. It didn¡¯t seem like that big of a deal to me. Tirion stopped pacing as he turned to face me. ¡°A long time ago, many ventured beyond the gate in search of adventure topside. We sent them off in celebration, hoping to hear tales of grandeur when they returned.¡± He paused, his eyes distant, as if seeing ghosts of the past. ¡°But none of them ever did.¡± ¡°Oh come on, it¡¯s not that bad.¡± Estella objected. She stood up and raised her fist in protest. "Some of them did return!" Tirion''s gaze snapped to her. "Far and few in between, Estella. Yorukishi, J.Rippa, the legends who could survive topside and return to tell the tale. We call them topsider. And some of them were never from the Undercity in the first place." Estella fell silent. Her earlier excitement gone as a grimace formed on her face. ¡°Yoru¡­¡± She mouthed the words in a barely audible whisper that the others didn¡¯t seem to notice. Our eyes met for a fleeting moment but she flinched away as though begging me not to inquire. Lysa stepped forward, her eyes studying me with newfound interest. "The topsiders, they spoke of horrors above ground." She paused, lips curving into a knowing smile. ¡°Although I suppose you would know that better than us¡±. I nodded but before I could reply, Estella jumped in, practically bouncing with excitement. ¡°It¡¯s all true. Noctus told me all the stories. He battled monsters of light, creatures so bright they could blind you with a glance¡± I suppressed a wince. Pretty sure I''d never described it quite that dramatically but I decided to let her continue her embellishments. But then again, thinking back to that level 30 light zombie¡­ and Ada¡­ Maybe she wasn''t exaggerating after all. Would I have survived if Solcaeli hadn''t shown up? The desert itself was brutal enough with its endless light and burning sand, but those creatures as well. Maybe the topsiders weren¡¯t making that up. ¡°So what now¡± Tirion looked at the black flames blocking the exit. They crackled ominously, burning strong with no signs of diminishing. ¡°How do we get out?¡±
Rats slain: 723,133 /1,000,000
¡°It¡¯s not over yet.¡± I said. Surveying the surroundings, there were still rats scattered all over the room. They were no longer aggressive but the quest log seemed to hint that we still needed to get rid of them. ¡°There¡¯s still more rats.¡± ¡°Urg, seriously?¡± Lysa complained. ¡°I¡¯m completely spent¡± ¡°So am I.¡± I raised the remnants of my broken blade. Sure, I still had my Nightsky blade. But to use a legendary weapon to fight rats¡­ no, just no. ¡°Let¡¯s take a break. It¡¯s not like the rats are going anywhere¡± The others nodded in agreement and we gathered around in a circle to rest. Three hundred thousand more rats. There¡¯s got to be a smarter way to do this. If we fought the rats manually, we would be here forever. Another spellblade would probably do it. But I definitely didn¡¯t have the mana for it. And even if I did, would I really want to risk my Nightsky blade? Lysa was the other one with a significant area of effect skill. A few shadow crushes would get us through. But when I took a look at her, her breath was ragged and heavy with panting. Her face was pale as a ghost. She looked as drained as I was and probably didn¡¯t have much mana left either. The rats continued to scurry around the room, oblivious to the torment they were causing us. Their tiny claws clicked against the stone in a maddening rhythm. There¡¯s still too many of them. If only there was a way to fight fire with fire. To match their endless numbers with... Wait. That was it. Of course. You don''t fight an army with a sword. You fight it with an army. I had an idea. The world around me began to fade, sounds growing distant as I reached for a different kind of solution. ¡°So, does anyone have any idea who that hooded masked man was?¡± Estella asked. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not a hundred percent sure,¡± Lysa paused, deep in contemplation, her robes swayed as she shifted her weight. ¡°But that mask, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve seen it before.¡± She stared up into the roof and grabbed her chin. ¡°If I¡¯m not wrong, only those from The Veiled Crown wear those¡± ¡°What!¡± Estella¡¯s exclamation bounced off the sewer¡¯s walls. ¡°Those Demon King worshipers.¡± Her nose wrinkled in disgust. ¡°Gross.¡± Tirion nodded in agreement. ¡°Yeah,¡± he grunted. ¡°Just what are they doing here¡± Lysa eyes darkened. ¡°No doubt conducting one of their sick experiments,¡± she answered, her voice filled with disdain. ¡°They have always attracted the weirdest followers. Ask any necromancer where their power comes from, nine times out of ten, they''ll whisper the Demon King''s name.¡± ¡°What about you Lysa?¡± Estella asked as she gestured at Lysa black shadowy robes. ¡°Those robes you¡¯re wearing and that magic you wield. You follow the Shadow Lord, right? " ¡°Yup, as if it wasn¡¯t obvious enough.¡± Lysa chuckled, the sound oddly warm in the cold sewers. ¡°Tirion and I are both followers. And I have dedicated my life to him as his cleric¡± Tirion nodded, a smile breaking through his stoic demeanour. Lysa''s gaze shifted to Estella. "Are you a believer as well?" she asked. ¡°Not really, I follow the Goddess of Death¡± Estella responded. "Oh..." Lysa''s mouth tightened, clearly holding back judgment. The silence that followed spoke volumes about the religious tensions even here in the darkness. The conversation lulled, and Estella''s attention turned to me. ¡°Hey Noctus, are you there?¡± Estella waved her hand in front of me, noticing that I was absent from their conversations. I blinked but otherwise remained unresponsive. Concern crept into Estella''s voice. ¡°Noctus, are you ok?¡± She started poking me with her index finger, trying to elicit a reaction. ¡°He¡¯s not moving, something¡¯s wrong¡± Tirion moved over and gripped my shoulders, giving me a firm shake. ¡°Noctus, wake up.¡± The shake rattled my teeth, but my mind was somewhere else. ¡°Sorry, Noctus¡± Estella apologized as she gave me a tight slap. The sting snapped me back to reality. "Oww," I cried out, my hand reflexively moving to my reddening cheek. "Was that really necessary?" "You were completely gone!" Estella''s worried expression warred with relief. "What happened? We thought you''d been cursed or something." A slow smile spread across my face as I looked at my companions. "I was just thinking." The plan was fully formed in my mind. "I know how to solve our rat problem." "Oh?" Lysa raised an eyebrow. "This should be interesting." Preparations were completed. I drew my Nightsky blade. Time to show them what I could do. I could already see the ending. Chapter 21: Warriors of Darkness, Assemble I lifted the Nightsky blade, watching the sewer''s weak light slide off its surface like water. The steel was so black it made the shadows around us look gray. Ancient runes flickered to life along its length, casting strange patterns on the stone wall. A heavy silence settled around us. The group watched in quiet anticipation; their breath held in suspense. Even the drip of water, usually constant in the background, seemed to halt for the moment, as though the entire sewer waited alongside them. I pressed the blade to my wrist. A sharp pain followed by warmth. Blood welled up and flowed along the blade¡¯s edge, moving upward against gravity, tracing its way toward the core of the sword as though drawn by some unseen force.
Skill learnt : Blood Weapons
Blood Weapon: Self-inflict bleeding status, perfect for giving your weapon a grimdark feel
I sipped a mana potion and gathered what remaining mana I had left. A dark aura swirled around my body, condensing into a silhouette of a giant knight.
Skill learnt: Dark Aura
Dark Aura: Create an intimidating aura of darkness. Great for dramatic effect
And then I began a chant. My voice was low but powerful, the words flowing through me as though they had been etched into my soul:
Flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood I have conquered a thousand worlds And will conquer one more You who seek adventure You whose wanderlust knows no bound I will provide the ecstasy you seek So heed my call Warriors of Darkness Assemble
I poured all my aura into those final words, amplifying them with an echo that reverberated around the chamber. A moment passed. Nothing happened. My companions exchanged confused glances, doubt creeping in. "So... what exactly should we be seeing?" "Wait for it" "I don''t think¡ª" Then, with a rush of shadows, they appeared. One by one, a group of warriors teleported into the dank air of the sewer chambers. Hundreds of them graced our presence, their form shimmering into existence. "Rangers emerged first, wearing cloaks of absolute black that reflected not even a hint of light. My eyes tried to track them but they blended perfectly with the shadows, their positions betrayed only by the whisper of arrows cutting through the murky air. Knights followed, their armor immaculate as if they''d just stepped out of a royal armory. They moved together in a robotic unison, creating a symphony of clanking metal that echoed in the room. The platoon of knights marched around the room, searching for rats to slaughter. Next, clerics manifested themselves in intermittent jet black fire. Their garments were predominantly black, purple and red. Dark emblems of assorted religions hung around their neck, illuminating them with a dark halo that acted as a sort of outer shield. They chanted together in perfect synchronicity that filled the room like a Gregorian choir. Finally, the mages arrived in swirling vortexes of raw power. Fire, ice, and lightning danced around their fingertips, while shadows coiled at their feet. The air itself seemed to crackle with barely contained energy as they joined the hunt. Rangers, knights, clerics and mages. A myriad of classes assembled for a singular purpose. The extermination of rats. It was a massacre, executed with the cold precision of a well-oiled machine. Squeaks filled the air, but not for long, as the rats fell quiet, one after the other, felled by the barrage of attacks. The warriors moved in perfect coordination, systematically going after each rat, leaving no stone unturned. At the rate they were going, the sewers would soon be a graveyard of rodents. Lysa¡¯s eyes widened as she raised her hand, pointing at the chaotic battle unfolding before us. ¡°By the shadows,¡± her voice quavered with surprise. ¡°I never knew you were a summoner¡± I sighed inwardly. I¡¯m a knight. Not a rat-catcher, not a summoner. Why is that so difficult to grasp?Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°This is ridiculous¡± Tirion eyes scanned the chamber, taking in the slaughtered rats and the mysterious warriors fighting them. ¡°I have never seen a summoner control this many minions before. And they''re all humanoids as well." I¡¯m a knight. I¡¯m a knight. I¡¯M A KNIGHT. He turned to me, a newfound respect evident in his gaze. "I must admit, I was beginning to doubt for a moment there. But this..." He gestured broadly at the rat-strewn floor. "This is beyond my imaginations." ¡°How is this even possible.¡± Lysa composure was cracking. ¡° I¡¯ve never seen anyone summon more than a handful of familiars.¡± She pushed her hair back, mind visibly racing. ¡°The mana required for a summoning of this magnitude. This defies all known thaumaturgical principles! Even the legendary summoners in ancient text never managed something like this.¡± ¡°Noctus really is amazing isn¡¯t he¡± Estella interjected, cutting off Lysa¡¯s rant. Her eyes shining in admiration. She framed the scene with her fingers, studying the carnage like a choreographed dance. ¡°Such an overwhelming display of force. This is ¡­ it¡¯s perfect.¡± I stood silent, letting their words wash over me. Honestly, it felt good to be admired and I savoured the moment. A warm fuzzy feeling spread through my chest. The awe in Estella''s eyes, the newfound respect from Tirion, even Lysa''s shocked admiration. It all combined to create a heady feeling of accomplishment. But it wasn¡¯t divine magic that brought forth this army. No. I worked with a different kind of sorcery, one of silicon and electricity, where lines of code replaced arcane runes. This miracle had its origins in technology. Multi-accounting. Such a simple term for such a complex operation. Each of these warriors, these supposed manifestations of my summoning power, was in reality a separate account I had painstakingly created and programmed. They were bots devoid of true purpose. Marionettes for me to puppet. The whole summoning ritual was nothing more than an elaborate theatre. I could have recited Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers and it would have the same effect. It was a beautiful idea that came while observing the rats. Their greatest strength was their numbers. Fine. Two could play that game. And so, I bought almost a thousand copies of the game and registered every single one. It wasn¡¯t easy due to the VR nature of the game requiring a real human but I was able to purchase biometric data off the dark web to masquerade my bots as humans. The accounts themselves were all level-one trash. But then again, you don¡¯t really need much more to deal with rats. Basic attacks will kill them just as dead as a legendary spell. Getting them to my current location was tricky, but my golden locket held the solution. ¡°Thank you, Ada.¡± I gave a silent prayer.
Golden Locket of Eternity: Allows a loved one to teleport to your current location
By registering all the accounts as a family member, they qualified as a loved one and could be teleported. It felt wrong using Ada''s gift this way, but I couldn''t see another option. After that, all that was left was getting a navigation and combat script to control the bots. Not exactly beginner stuff - you need pathfinding algorithms smart enough to handle 3D terrain without getting stuck on every pebble, combat AI that won''t friendly-fire your allies into oblivion, and most importantly, anti-detection routines to avoid getting flagged by the game''s behavioral analysis. Thankfully, there''s a marketplace for everything if you know where to dig. Deep in the bowels of certain forums, behind layers of private chats and reputation checks, you''ll find the real professionals. Not the script kiddies selling public hacks that get detected within a week, but the veterans who treat this as a business. I found what I needed from a coder who went by "ShadowScript". The guy had a reputation for clean code that could dodge anti-cheat like a ghost. His asking price made my eyes water, but his battle-tested framework had everything: distributed control systems to prevent server load spikes, randomized movement patterns to avoid automated detection, even emergency protocols if things went south. I could do it myself of course, but I was in a rush... All in all, it was an expensive endeavor. Each copy of the game cost fifty dollars, plus the virtual machines and proxies needed to prevent the accounts from getting flagged. But the satisfaction of clearing these annoying critters? Worth every penny. As the last rat fell, silence descended upon the sewer. Moments ago, there had been chaos ¨C the clash of weapons, the sizzle of spells, the desperate squeaks of dying rats ¨C now there was only the soft drip of water and the amazed gasps of my companions. I surveyed the scene with satisfaction. The sewer floor was littered with rat carcasses, some charred by magic, others cleanly dispatched by blade or arrow. The stench of death mingled with the already foul air, creating a miasma that made my eyes water.
Quest Complete: Rats slain: 1,000,000/1,000,000
You have earned the achievement: Slayer of Rats
Slayer of Rats: Deal 50% more damage to rat type monsters
I had mixed feelings about this new ability. On one hand, a fifty percent damage amplification was massive. In a world where every advantage could mean the difference between life and death, it was a boon I couldn''t ignore. On the other hand, the idea of even seeing another rat made me nauseous. Some achievements came with memories I''d rather forget. The black flames that had blocked the exit began to flutter and fade, dissipating like smoke in a strong breeze. As they vanished, our escape route revealed itself ¨C a dark tunnel leading away from the cavernous arena. My army of alternate accounts stood motionless by the side, forming an honor guard that ushered us out. Then they began to disappear one by one, like candles being snuffed out by an invisible hand. Not according to my commands. Not according to my scripts. Panic gripped me. What was going on? This wasn''t part of the plan I mentally reached out, trying to check the server farm where they were located. No ping response. No heartbeat. Nothing but a flood of notifications:
Your account has been suspended due to violation of terms of service
My head started spinning as the world around me began to blur and distort. The sewer walls seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting like the flanks of some great beast. I stumbled; my legs suddenly weak beneath me. Through the haze, I heard the muffled sounds of my companions shouting out to me "Noctus!" Chapter 22: GM Jail (Warning, this chapter contains mild depictions of torture) When I awoke, a familiar feeling of darkness enveloped me. I attempted to shift positions, but an immovable force held me back. The air hung heavy with the musty scent of damp stone and something metallic, probably blood, though I hoped it wasn''t mine. Clink,clink, clink. My wrists were bound by heavy chains that rattled with every move, splaying my arms wide. The cold metal stuck to my flesh at a painful angle, forcing me to maintain this unwilling position. My bare chest exposed me to the icy cold air that caused me to shiver. The hard stone floor pressed uncomfortably against my knees as I surveyed the constrained room that surrounded me. I was in a cell. Before me stood two figures. The first one was female. Her skin was a deep shade of blue with yellow eyes that glowed in the dark. A black leather bodysuit clung to her like a second skin, accentuating her every curve. In her left hand, a spiked whip hovered like a coiled spring ready to be unleashed. The way she handled it, letting it slither across the floor before coiling it back up, you could tell she''d practiced that move in front of a mirror. A lot. Next to her was a daunting figure of a man whose skin was blood-red decorated with battle scars. He had full horns that cast a shadow across his face. He kept his arms crossed and was leaning against the wall watching me. He carried with him an intimidating aura that hinted at violence. ¡°Your crimes are as follows¡± The lady said. Her six-inch heels clicked against the stone as she paced before me. ¡°Pursuant to section six, sub-section three, paragraph two, clause three of the terms of services. The User shall not create multiple accounts. The User shall not sell (or buy), rent, exchange, or give away an account¡± Her eyes locked onto mine as she delivered the verdict. The whip creaked in her grip. ¡°We find you in violation of these terms. How do you plead?¡± My lips formed a wry smile. So this is what it was all about. Game Masters¡¯ (GMs) jail. A pocket dimension where the laws of both game and reality bent to administrative will. The regular rules of Lumindarael didn''t apply here. This was pure system space, where GMs could take whatever form they wanted to intimidate problem players. Unfortunately for them, this wasn¡¯t my first rodeo. Rule number 1: Never admit your guilt. If they had conclusive evidence, I''d already be banned. My presence here spoke volumes about their lack of irrefutable proof. I still had room to maneuver. Rule number 2: GMs are incompetent. GMs were salaried workers who lack the tenacity to pursue the case to their bitter end. With thousands of infractions to investigate, they''d likely abandon this case if I made things tedious enough. Their chains might hold my body, but in this battle of wits and will, I held the upper hand. Let the interrogation begin. ¡°Not guilty¡± I declared. ¡°Such a serious accusation. Where is the proof?¡± A whip crackled through the air and struck me on the shoulder, leaving a stinging mark. ¡°The gall on this boy.¡± She said. ¡°We caught six hundred and twenty-five accounts created within seconds of each other. And they all miraculously teleported to the same location to assist a certain knight in completing a quest. Quite a coincidence wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± It¡¯s eight hundred and fifty-six accounts. Incompetent indeed. I met the woman''s accusatory glare with a smirk. ¡°Is it wrong for my relatives to help me in a quest? The M in MMO stands for multiplayer you know. It¡¯s a social game.¡± ¡°Crack!¡± The whip lashed out again, this time finding its mark on my face. A line of red bloomed across my cheek, but I refused to flinch. ¡°All six hundred and twenty-five are your family? Her voice dripped with contempt. Who are you trying to kid?¡± I chuckled despite the burning pain. ¡°What can I say, my grandfather was a virile man. Runs in the family.¡± I cocked an eyebrow suggestively. ¡°Why don¡¯t you loosen the chains and I¡¯ll show you how he did it¡±? The slap cracked across my face. As my vision steadied, I found her glaring down at me, lips pulled back in a snarl. Whatever patience she''d had was gone. "You think you''re funny?" she hissed, a muscle twitching in her jaw as she gripped the whip. "I have my moments," I replied, winking at her. "Gotta say though, that shade of angry really brings out your eyes. Almost like cheap glowsticks." She grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head down with a vicious pull. I grunted as her stiletto heel dug into my bare back like a knife. The cold stone floor swam inches from my face as she held me there. Then, she lifted her foot and swung it at the side of my skull. The kick connected causing my head to reel back and throb in pain. I nearly collapsed but the chains kept me upright. She stepped back, her breathing heavy with exertion and anger. Blood trickled from my mouth as I spat on the floor and grinned. ¡°Don¡¯t stop now.¡± I rasped, blood trickling from my split lip. ¡°My safe word is edgelord.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The horned man laughed. He peeled away from the wall, boots scraping stone. "Your strategy is fascinating." His voice rumbled deep in his chest as he approached. His shadow fell over me. "But entertaining as this is, it won''t help you." He walked up to me and lifted my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. ¡°We know all about you. The mysterious player who somehow managed to select a legendary class. We never did figure out how you managed that particular trick. And now you have the audacity to pull something like this? We tire of your disrespect. We have you here now.¡± The blue-skinned woman circled behind me. Her nails, sharp as razors, dragged across my shoulders, drawing blood. ¡°And we have ways of making you talk. I promise, none of them are pleasant.¡± "Ooh, classic. Page one of Interrogation for Dummies, right? ¡±I quipped, " Or did you skip straight to the clich¨¦s chapter?''" Her nails dug deeper, finding muscle. The chains rattled as I tried to pull away, but that only seemed to motivate her to press harder. ¡°That''s enough.¡± The horned man crouched down, bringing his face level with mine. This close, I could feel the heat emanating from him. "You hide your tracks well. Our forensics ran their analysis and says you¡¯re clean. None of those alt accounts share the same IP address, hardware ID or geolocation as your account. It¡¯s impossible to pin it to you " But of course. I had paid good money for those proxies and VPNs to hide my location. Multi-accounting 101. ¡°But I know better.¡± He stood up and tapped his temple. ¡°My instincts say it was you. And my instincts have never failed me. My conviction rate is over ninety-nine percent.¡± ¡°Listen, math probably isn¡¯t your strong point, but ninety-nine percent literally means that you have failed before. Never isn¡¯t the word you¡¯re looking ¨C ¡° The woman''s whip cracked through the air again, this time wrapping around my throat. The words died in my throat as the leather tightened, cutting off my air supply. "Do not speak back.¡± She barked. ¡°Perhaps a few minutes without oxygen will dull that silver tongue of yours." Black spots danced at the edges of my vision as I struggled for breath. The room began to spin, but I managed to wheeze out, "Kinky... but¡­ tongue... later... dinner¡­ first." The horned man raised a hand, and the whip loosened slightly. I gasped, drawing in precious air. "Enough games.¡± He studied me intently; his red eyes seemed to peer into my very soul, searching for weakness. ¡°I¡¯ve seen many like you. Each one thinking they''re clever enough to beat the system. You all talk big, wearing this false bravado, pretending to be someone you¡¯re not. But peel off the layers and what will we find.¡± A silence fell over the cell. The only sound was the soft crackle of torches along the walls. Then, his hand moved. I tensed, expecting a blow, but instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a peeling knife. He held it up against the flickering torchlight, examining its edge, before running his finger against it. ¡°Still sharp¡± he said as a streak of blood oozed out of his finger. He watched it with an almost childlike fascination, turning his hand to observe how the crimson droplet caught the torchlight before falling to the floor. Then, he pressed the cold metal against my cheek. Not quite breaking skin but promising pain with even the slightest twitch. The blade was so sharp I could feel each microscopic serration. The chill of the metal made me want to shiver, but I forced myself still. Even the slightest movement now would draw blood. ¡°Shall we see what lies under this mask of yours.¡± I met his gaze, steady and cold. He was searching for signs of fear or guilt, those tiny tells that betray a liar: a quickened breath, a nervous swallow, a flicker of the eyes. He wouldn¡¯t find any. The blade''s edge pressed harder and harder still, becoming impossible to ignore. The cold metal warmed against my skin as the pressure increased. Eventually, it stopped hovering and started cutting. Warm blood trickled down my neck. The first drop hit my collarbone, then another traced its way down my chest. I almost smiled. This was nothing compared to those lessons.
I was tied to a chair in a dimly lit room with that man standing before me. Hour after hour of the same questions, while hunger and thirst gnawed at me. Day after day until the discomfort became normal, until the fear of pain became duller than boredom. "Pain is temporary," he would say, circling my chair. "Fear is a choice. When they have you at their mercy, remember, they want something. That means you have the power." The lessons started small. Sitting in uncomfortable positions for hours. Going without food or water. Sleep deprivation. Then something physical¡­ Each time I broke, each time I gave in, he would make me start over. "Focus on your breathing. Count the seconds. Make your mind a fortress. Let them think they''re breaking you while you study their weaknesses." Sometimes he would describe in clinical detail what interrogators might do. Sometimes he would demonstrate. Hammers, fists, water, fire, I learnt them all. All for the sake of stripping the power from threats before I ever faced them. "Most will try to break you quickly. They have quotas, deadlines, other cases. Your greatest weapon is patience. Make yourself more trouble than you''re worth."
The memory faded as blood trickled down my neck. "I... didn''t... do it." Each word made the cut deeper as my cheek moved against the blade, but I kept grinning as blood dripped onto the stone floor. Let him see the truth in my eyes. Not the truth he was looking for, but the truth that mattered: I would never break. The growing puddle of red below me only proved my point. After all, what was a little pain compared to the satisfaction of beating them? Seconds stretched into an eternity as we stared each other down. I could see the calculation in his eyes, the weighing of possibilities. He was good at his job, I had to give him that. But I was better at mine. Finally, the horned man straightened up, his expression unreadable. His massive frame cast long shadows across the cell as he stepped back, studying me with something that might have been respect. Or perhaps it was just irritation at finding prey he couldn''t break. "We¡¯re done for now," he said, wiping my blood from the blade with deliberate slowness. He turned to face the lady. ¡°Release him¡± "Sir?" The woman''s whip cracked against the floor. "We can''t just¡ª" "We can and we will." He crouched down to my level again and lifted my head with his index finger. "You''re good, kid. Almost like a harden criminal.¡± His burning eyes stared into mine. ¡°But here''s what''s going to happen: We''re going to flag your account. Every quest, every item, every interaction gets logged. And when you finally slip-up. Not if, when. " He snapped his fingers, the sound echoing in the cell. "Permanent ban. No appeals." The chains fell away with a heavy clank. I rubbed my wrists, keeping my face carefully neutral despite the victory singing in my veins. Sure, they''d be watching. But they''d been watching before, hadn''t they? And I''d still pulled it off. ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± she hissed. ¡°We will get you next time.¡± ¡°I look forward to our next date then. Though maybe less whips, more wine?¡± Her fingers tightened on the whip, but before she could respond, reality began to blur. As darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, I caught the horned man''s final whisper. ¡°We''ll see just how good you really are.¡±
Warning: Account flagged for suspicious activity
All actions will be monitored by administrative staff
Chapter 23: Back to reality I yanked off the VR headset, the world shifting from the tortured cold of the prison to the comfortable gloom of my basement hideout. My neck cracked as I slumped back in my gaming chair. The expensive ergonomic kind that''s supposed to prevent exactly this kind of pain. The LED strips lining my desk pulsed in sync with my music, casting everything in alternating shades of purple and blue. The wall of monitors before me displayed my usual array of chaos: crypto charts, network diagnostics, chat channels, and about thirty Chrome tabs I''d never actually read. Bitcoin had just hit 100k, painting my trading graphs a satisfying shade of green. At least something was going right. I grabbed an energy can from my mini-fridge. The cold can helped ground me back in reality after hours in World of Ruin. With the GMs onto me, it was probably smart to lay low for a while. What should I do now? Maybe take a walk outside? No, too dangerous. They were still looking for me. Maybe I¡¯ll write some rap music. I turned on a hip-hop beat and nodded along to it. The rhythm came easy, dark, electronic, with just enough trap influence to make it interesting:
Seated on my desk on new year''s eve, Watching euro-yen take a nosedive bleed, Bitcoin collapses, The train I was supposed to be on, crashes and bashes, Bangers and mashes, Yet here I am, still breathing fast, Trading charts, my only looking glass
Not exactly platinum material, but it had that right mix of cynicism and desperation. Perfect for my brand. I saved it to my ''Unfinished Projects'' folder, where it joined the digital graveyard of half-written tracks and abandoned code repositories that I promised I would finish one day. My eyes landed on the stack of books collecting dust on my desk, programming manuals mostly, their spines cracked from endless late-night debugging sessions. I''d practically lived in those pages as a kid, back when I thought understanding every line of code would somehow make the world make sense. These days, I preferred to let my exploits do the talking. I pulled up my game library. Maybe something old school. One of those MMOs from before games got too serious about security. Back when "security" meant having a GM occasionally fly around as a dragon, and "anti-cheat" was just a strongly worded forum post asking players to please, pretty please, not use exploits. Games from when developers were too busy trying to keep their servers from catching fire to worry about little things like wall-clipping or item duplication. When finding a good bug was like discovering buried treasure, and sharing it on obscure forums made you feel like a digital Indiana Jones. Those were the days when "terms of service" was more of a polite suggestion than a binding contract. Before every action got logged, analyzed, and cross-referenced against sixteen databases. I missed those days. My eyes caught the World of Ruin icon and my cursor hovered over its launch button for a moment. The urge to dive back in was strong, Estella was probably wondering where I''d disappeared to. But no, not now. In the end, I loaded up War of Worldskill, watching the familiar logo materialize on my center monitor. The game had been running for fifteen years now, outliving countless "MMO-killers" and surviving its own questionable design choices. The latest patch banner advertised "The Crimson Spire," a new 24-man raid that promised to be the hardest content yet. Because apparently, the devs thought what this game really needed was even more mechanical difficulty to fuel the community''s ego complex. I sighed, already dreading the social interaction ahead. Finding 23 other players meant dealing with the Party Finder ¨C a special circle of hell where elitism went to breed. Every listing was a cryptic wall of text, a language evolved over decades of MMO culture that might as well be greek to anyone normal. A group caught my eye: 23/24, "CRIMSON SPIRE PROG - MUST KNOW MECHS - PARSE CHECK - NO CARRIES." Great. Spreadsheet warriors. The kind of players who treated raiding like a corporate performance review. They''d want to see my "parse", detailed combat logs showing exactly how much damage I dealt, healing I did, everything tracked down to the decimal point. Because apparently playing well wasn''t enough anymore; you needed graphs to prove it. I joined anyway. What''s the worst that could happen? Besides public humiliation and another blow to my rapidly diminishing faith in humanity? The chat exploded instantly:
[RaidBoss_420]: bruh, show parse [RaidBoss_420]: link logs or kick
I pulled up my battle logs. My numbers were solid ¨C purple percentile, top 25% of raiders. In any rational world, that would be more than enough. In the old days, that would''ve been something to brag about. But parsing had created a whole new hierarchy, with colors marking your worth like some twisted gaming caste system. Grey,green,blue, purple, orange, pink, gold ¨C each shade a new level of elitism.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
[RaidBoss_420]: lol purple? what is this, casual hour? [xXDarkLord69Xx]: imagine being purple in 2024 [xXDarkLord69Xx]: do you even parse bruh? [RaidBoss_420]: orange+ only, read description scrub [You have been removed from the party.]
I stared at my screen, wondering if it was too early to start drinking. The next party looked promising: "Chill prog, experienced players welcome." My off-meta build, a carefully theorycrafted combination that I''d tested extensively, apparently triggered someone''s spreadsheet anxiety.
[BigDPSEnergy]: tf kind of trash build is that [Me]: Trust me bro, I''ve cleared with this setup multiple times [BigDPSEnergy]: metasheet.io says ur trash [BigDPSEnergy] has added you to their blacklist.
The next two hours became a blur of rejections, each party finder group its own unique flavor of gatekeeping. One wanted only players who''d cleared week one (the raid had been out for nine days). Another demanded everyone have the exact same gear build, down to the cosmetic dyes. A third wanted voice chat interviews to "check vibe alignment." Finally, after enough rejections to fuel a lifetime of therapy, I found a group that let me in. We loaded into the instance, the elaborate raid backdrop materializing around our characters. The raid leader was halfway through explaining the first mechanic when it happened.
[XxNaruto_SamaXx]: YOLO PULL FOR GLORY!!! [XxNaruto_SamaXx] charges headfirst into the boss arena.
The tired old "suicide pull" might have been funny if it hadn''t just wasted two hours of party finding. The boss''s raid-wide attack obliterated us in seconds. The chat devolved into the usual toxicity speedrun:
[HealzForDayz]: ****ing waste of time [TankBro453]: actual trash community [BowMaster]: definitely an AI [RaidBoss_2]: uninstall and delete
The party disbanded faster than a failed idol group. Two hours of searching, countless parse checks, and gear inspections, all ended by some teenager who tried to be funny. After that disaster, I loaded up Fatal Fantasia XIV. The Eastern developer''s influence was obvious in everything from the art style to the draconian moderation policies. They''d even built an infamous "GM Detention Center" , a special in-game jail where they''d force players to reflect on their bad behavior. At least it meant people would be less toxic about raiding. In theory. The party finder''s cryptic language stared back at me like some ancient hieroglyphics: [A2C][MUST KNOW STRATS][1 FOOD ONLY][LC TH:I, DPS:O][ L>R][NO FIRST TIMERS][DUTY COMPLETE] I mentally decoded the raid shorthand, a skill as essential as typing these days. A2C meant "Aim to Clear", no learning allowed, you better know your stuff. One food duration meant they expected to finish within 30 minutes, the length of a single buff item. LC positioning, specific spots you had to stand during the "Limit Cut" mechanic, with tanks and healers going in first, damage dealers out. Left to right for loot distribution, because even virtual treasures needed bureaucracy. All this just to say "Experienced players only, don''t waste our time." The party filled quickly. Too quickly. That should have been my first warning. We loaded into the trial, a massive circular arena suspended in space. It¡¯s always circular, because every eastern MMO developer shared the same aesthetic playbook. The boss, some impossibly beautiful man-angel hybrid with more wings than any being reasonably needed, towered over us. First pull, gaming speak for the first attempt. Our healer, wearing gear that practically screamed "I just hit max level," stood in the first mechanic like it was a warm summer rain. In MMO terms, a mechanic is a fancy word for "the thing that kills you if you stand in it." Party HP bars dropped faster than crypto during a China ban announcement. Wipe. Total party kill. Back to the start. In any other game, the chat would''ve exploded with toxicity. But not here. No one dared risk the GM jail. Instead:
[DPSKing_99]: Perhaps we should review mechanics? [TankMeister]: Any questions about the fight?
Radio silence. The special kind of silence that came from a healer who had queued for high-end content without watching a single guide video. Another pull. This time they survived the first mechanic, only to get obliterated by the limit cut sequence. The nice thing about wiping to different mechanics was the variety, I supposed. Thirty minutes passed. The food buffs wore off. Someone''s crafted gear started taking durability damage.
[WhiteMage_UwU]: Thank you, I must now take my leave. [SaMuRaI_KiNg]: Thank you, I must now take my leave. [GunBreaker_72]: Good game [DPSKing_99]: gigi [AstroQueen]: Good game [Party has been disbanded.]
The next four hours blurred together in a cycle of: 60 minutes - Waiting in party finder 5 minutes - Watching someone fail basic mechanics 2 minutes - Enduring painfully polite party dissolution Repeat. I alt-tabbed to my parser. Despite the wipes, my numbers were solid. But it didn''t matter how well you performed if other players treated death like an inconvenience rather than a failure. They''d never known true consequences, never felt the weight of real permadeath. Players would charge into boss fights without preparation, without fear, treating their virtual lives like infinite arcade tokens¡­ It was such a waste of time. My VR headset sat on my desk, its sleek surface reflecting the LED strips like some kind of technological temptress. Every few minutes, my eyes would drift to it. Each time, I''d force myself to look away. "Just a few days," I muttered. "Give the GMs time to cool off." But who was I kidding? The longer I stayed away, the more my mind wandered. My fingers drummed against the desk. The rational move would be to wait longer. A week, minimum. Let the heat die down completely. That''s what I''d have told any other player in my position. But I couldn''t shake the memory of Ada''s final moments, how quickly a person could just... cease to exist in that world. When you faced a boss there, you weren''t just risking a bit of your time. You were risking everything: your character, your progress, your entire existence in that world. No wonder the combat felt so much more intense. When was the last time you felt truly alive in a game where death meant nothing. The Guide¡¯s words echoed in my mind. He was right. I needed something with higher stakes. I needed somewhere where I didn¡¯t have to deal with toxic assholes and party finder bullshit. Somewhere where I didn¡¯t need twenty-three other people to validate my existence. My hand reached for the headset, fingers tracing the smooth contours. Fatal Fantasia''s garish interface still flickered on my main monitor, all bright colors and meaningless achievements. I closed it with a click. The headset''s weight felt familiar as I slipped it on. Comfortable. Like coming home after a long day pretending to be someone else. No flashy effects or daily login bonuses. Just a simple choice: enter a world where everything mattered, or stay safe in ones where nothing did. My finger hovered over the login button. Last chance to be sensible. Last chance to play it safe. I thought of Estella waiting for me, probably with that knowing smirk of hers. Safe was overrated. I logged in. Chapter 24: A break The first thing I noticed was the scratch of rough cotton sheets against my skin, the kind of fabric that reminded you that comfort was a luxury I hadn¡¯t paid for. From somewhere below, laughter and music leaked through floorboards that creaked with distant footsteps. The air carried a peculiar mix of stale ale and burning candles. I opened my eyes. My head throbbed in sync with the bass notes floating up from below. I looked around. I was lying on a mattress that had seen better days. That''s when I saw her. A head of blonde hair spilling across the edge of my bed, catching the dim blue light from the wall crystals. Estella. She''d fallen asleep bent forward in a wooden chair, her head resting on crossed arms at the edge of my mattress. Even unconscious, she maintained a dancer''s poise ¨C somehow making that awkward position look graceful. Before I could stop myself, my hand moved toward her head. Some dormant subroutine in my brain wanting to... what? Pat her like a pet? Smooth that hair away from her face? I froze mid-gesture as she stirred, a small noise rumbling in her throat. My hand snapped back fast. That was close. Too close. Her usual vibrant performance attire was replaced with a simple white shirt and dark pants, though her chakrams were still secured at her waist. A half-empty potion bottle sat on the bedside table, its contents giving off a faint herbal scent. Next to it lay a damp cloth, spotted with dried blood. My blood, presumably. She must have spent hours tending to me. Somehow, the realization of her kindness made me uncomfortable. I wasn¡¯t used to owing people. Estella''s eyes fluttered open, immediately brightening with that intensity that made me wonder if she had some hidden Light affiliation. ¡°Noctus, you¡¯re awake!¡± She straightened in her chair, wincing slightly at what must have been a terrible crick in her neck. "I was starting to think I''d have to kiss you awake like in those silly fairy tales." "Pretty sure it¡¯s usually the other way around," I muttered, trying to sit up and immediately regretting it. ¡°Hey, gender equality!¡± She laughed, but her eyes tracked my movement with concern. "How are you feeling? You suddenly passed out in the sewers. We had to carry you out.¡± "Still feeling weak but I¡¯ll get better." I glanced around the familiar room. "Moonless Tavern?" "Good guess." She cocked her head, curious. "How''d you know?" I gestured vaguely at our surroundings. "The constant bass line that makes you think the place is about to cave in. The smell of whatever the barkeeper calls his ''special brew.'' The fact that I can hear at least three different couples either fighting or making up through these paper-thin walls." I managed a weak smirk. "Also, the giant ''Moonless Tavern - Room 4'' sign right above the door." That earned me a playful swat, which she thankfully aimed at the bed rather than my exhausted self. "And here I thought you were being all clever and observant." Her expression softened slightly. "Tirion and Lysa are resting in their room. Her shadow magic saved our skins back there, but it drained her pretty badly." "They''re okay though?" "Better than you." She stood up, stretching with a dancer''s natural grace. "I should let them know you''re awake. And..." A familiar mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "We should celebrate! I want to see you dance." "I''m still recovering," I protested. "I don''t think dancing is medically advised." "Then you can watch me dance." She was already moving toward the door, that boundless energy returning. "Besides, what better way to heal than with good music, better company, and the worst ale in the Undercity?" "Pretty sure actual healing potions would be better." "Where¡¯s the fun in that!" She called over her shoulder. "Come on down when you¡¯re ready. Don''t you dare try to escape.¡±
I descended the creaking stairs into the Moonless Tavern''s common room. It was filled with people and activity, a perfect representation of an entertainment district, if you ignored the occasional glimpse of fangs, scales, and pointed ears among the patrons. The band in the corner was playing something with too many strings and not enough rhythm, but the crowd didn''t seem to mind. A three-armed guitarist traded solos with what looked like a wolfman playing a violin, while a dragonkin with miniature wings kept beat on drums. The Undercity was truly diverse indeed. Where are they? I scanned the room with Inspect and the interface helpfully highlighted points of interest:
Suspicious Card Game (Likely Rigged)
Secret Entrance Behind Bar (Requires Lockpicking)
Wanted Poster (Your face is not on it... yet)
Party Members (3) - Table Near Stage
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I looked to the stage and spotted them. "Over here!" Estella''s voice cut through the cacophony, her arm waving with enough enthusiasm to qualify as a dance move. She''d changed back into her performance outfit. Tirion and Lysa occupied the other side of the table with Tirion''s bunny ears twitching occasionally to the beat while Lysa had a glass of what looked like wine rather than ale. "Look who finally decided to join the land of the conscious," Tirion said as I approached, his shield propped against the table leg. "How''s the head?" "Still attached." I eased myself into the empty chair, trying not to wince. "Thanks to you three." "Mostly thanks to Lysa," Estella corrected, signaling a server. "The path back was paved with monsters but her shadow magic kept them off us while we carried you." Lysa''s ears colored slightly at the praise. "It was nothing. Though..." she hesitated, sharing a look with Tirion. "We should discuss what happened. That masked man who trapped us, the monsters ¡­ " "Food first," Estella interrupted, as a server arrived with plates of something that smelled surprisingly edible. "Strategy meetings go better on full stomachs. House special for everyone! Don''t worry about the cost ¨C it''s on the house tonight." The server laid out steaming plates in front of each of us, the aroma made my stomach remind me how long it had been since I''d eaten. Steam rose from what looked like some kind of meat and vegetable stew. Lysa and Tirion bowed their heads, closing their eyes in prayer. "Thank you for the food," Lysa said softly. "Eat up!" Estella pushed a plate toward me. "The chef''s secret recipe restores more HP than a health potion. Though..." she leaned in conspiratorially, "don''t ask what''s in it. Some mysteries are better left unsolved." I took a bite. It was surprisingly good. My status window showed a small HP recovery from the meal, whatever was in that secret recipe was working. The warmth spread through my chest, easing some of the lingering aches from our sewer adventure. The tavern''s atmosphere had shifted while we ate. The terrible band from earlier had been replaced by someone who knew which end of an instrument to hold. Even the ale, despite tasting like actual piss, was starting to grow on me. Or maybe that was just the HP regeneration talking. I found myself watching my companions, noticing the little things. Tirion thought he was being subtle, carefully nudging the spicier portions of his meal onto Lysa''s plate when she glanced away. She definitely noticed. I caught the slight smile she hid behind her wine glass, but she was contented to let him think he was being clever. The food and drink had brought color back to everyone''s cheeks, washing away some of the tension from our sewer ordeal. Maybe that''s what gave Estella her next idea. As the plates emptied, she kept eyeing Tirion''s ears with growing interest, until finally she couldn''t contain herself anymore. "You know what would look absolutely perfect?" she said, leaning forward with a dangerous gleam in her eyes... Tirion''s ears twitched nervously, folding back against his head. "Whatever you''re thinking-" "Just one braid," Estella insisted, her fingers wiggled mischievously. "Think how cute it would look!" Tirion leaned away, dodging Estella''s attempt to grab his ears. "My ears are not for decorative purposes. They''re highly sensitive sensory organs that-" "That would look absolutely adorable with tiny braids," Estella finished, making another grab. Tirion ducked, nearly knocking over his ale. "Lysa," Tirion appealed to his partner, "Please tell her this is inappropriate." Lysa took a deliberate sip of wine, failing to hide her smile. "I don''t know... I''ve always wondered what you''d look like with braided ears." "Betrayal!" Tirion cried in mock despair. "See? Even Lysa agrees," Estella grinned. "Come on, just one little braid. I''ll add a ribbon-" "No ribbons!" Both ears shot straight up in alarm. "Fine, no ribbons," Estella conceded. "But what about those little silver bells they sell in the market district? They''d make such a lovely tinkling sound when you fight-" I couldn''t help but snort at that. "Might be tactically advantageous. All the tinkling would help keep the enemy''s attention on you." "Not you too," Tirion groaned, using his shield to block another of Estella''s attempts. "I thought knights were supposed to have each other''s backs." "Oh, we do," I agreed. "Which is why I think you should let her braid at least one ear. For party unity." "I am a warrior of the Shadow Lord," Tirion protested with wounded dignity. "I do not tinkle in battle." "Think of it as a signaling tool," Estella wheedled. "We could coordinate attacks based on ear-jingles. One tinkle means ''attack,'' two tinkles means ''retreat''-" "Three tinkles means Tirion has lost all dignity,''" Tirion finished dryly. But his ears had relaxed from their alarmed position, now twitching only occasionally in amusement. "Your dignity will survive one tiny braid," Lysa said softly, her eyes dancing. "You survived wearing that flower crown at the festival, after all." "Lysa!" Tirion''s ears went completely flat. "You swore never to mention that!" "There was a flower crown?" Estella''s eyes lit up like she''d just discovered a treasure chest. "Oh, you have to tell me everything-" "More ale!" Tirion announced loudly, signaling frantically for the server. "We need much more ale. Immediately. Right now. Before any more stories about flower crowns can be told." I sat back, watching them banter. Somehow, I couldn¡¯t help but enjoy moments like this. "So, what are you two up to next?" Tirion asked between bites, deftly avoiding another of Estella''s attempts at his ears. "Besides harassing innocent bunny-kins." "I thought we''d practice our new battle coordination system," Estella grinned as she held out two silver bells. "Now stop struggling-" "Actually," Tirion interrupted as he shared a quick glance with Lysa. "We were thinking... if you''re both free tomorrow, maybe you''d like to visit our place?" "Your house?" Estella practically bounced in her seat. "I didn''t even know you two had a proper house! I always imagined you living in some spartan warrior monastery or something." Lysa smiled softly. "It''s nothing grand. Just a small place in the Shadow District. But..." she hesitated, then continued with unusual warmth, "it would be nice to have friends over." "We could discuss our next moves somewhere more private," Tirion added. "And Lysa makes an excellent spiced tea." "As long as it''s better than this ale," I said, pushing away my mug. "Oh, it definitely is," Tirion''s ears perked up. "Though that¡¯s not a hard target to beat." "Oww," Tirion cried out as Lysa smacked him in the head. "Only one way to find out!" Estella declared. She stood up with a flourish that somehow incorporated a little spin. "What time should we come by?" As they worked out the details, I found myself wondering what a shadow priest''s home would look like. Probably lots of dark curtains and ominous candles. Though with Tirion living there too, maybe some carrot-themed pillows? Chapter 25: A new quest Getting to Tirion and Lysa''s place proved more interesting than expected. The Shadow District wasn''t exactly well-mapped, and the directions I''d been given sounded like something from a riddle quest: "Take the third left after the Weeping Lady statue, then two rights at the purple lanterns, and if you see the upside-down house you''ve gone too far." Inspect didn''t help much here. Every alley looked the same, and the interface kept highlighting useless things:
Suspicious Cat (Definitely plotting something)
Strange Door (Probably leads somewhere)
Ominous Graffiti (Written in a language you can''t read)
I''d already gotten lost twice, ending up in what looked like some kind of mushroom market. The vendor had been insistent that his glowing fungi could "reveal your true destiny," but I had enough trouble with my current destiny, thanks. Finally, I spotted what had to be the right place ¨C a modest two-story house with dark stone walls and tinted windows. A small garden occupied the front, filled with plants I''d never seen before. I was about to knock when the door opened. Estella stood there, grinning like she''d won a bet. "You''re late! Let me guess ¨C you tried to use the main road instead of cutting through the Cemetery of Temporary Inconvenience?" "The what now?" "The shortcut! Everyone knows the best way to get anywhere in the Shadow District is through the cemetery. The ghosts give great directions." She grabbed my arm. "Come on, Lysa''s tea is getting cold." She pulled me inside. "Wait till you see what Tirion did with the place. Who knew bunny warriors had such a good eye for interior decoration?" The interior was... surprisingly cozy. Dark wooden furniture, yes, and the expected assortment of ominous candles, but also comfortable-looking chairs and what appeared to be hand-knitted cushions in deep purples and blues. A weapons rack held Tirion''s spare shields alongside Lysa''s ceremonial staves, arranged carefully side by side. And there, on one of the sofas, was a carrot-patterned pillow. "Noctus! Glad you made it." Tirion emerged from what I assumed was the kitchen, wearing a black apron with ''Kiss the Bunny'' embroidered on it. "I see Estella found you before you wandered into the Maze of Mild Peril." "The what-" "Don''t ask," Lysa called from the kitchen. "That maze has a terrible sense of humor." I followed them into a cozy dining room where a round table was set with delicate black porcelain cups. Steam rose from them in spiraling patterns before dissipating. "Please, sit," Lysa emerged with a plate of cookies." "Did you know," Estella said, already dropping three sugar cubes into her cup, "that Tirion stress-bakes? Lysa told me the whole house smelled like cookies last week after their adventures in the caves." Tirion''s ears drooped slightly. "I don''t stress-bake. I merely... process combat experiences through culinary experimentation." "He made four batches," Lysa added with a fond smile. "The neighbors were very appreciative." I picked up my cup and sipped the tea. The taste was... impossible to describe. Cool and warm simultaneously, sweet and bitter in ways that shouldn''t be possible. "Good, isn''t it?" Lysa looked pleased. "It''s a family recipe. The secret is harvesting the tea leaves at exactly midnight from a philosopher''s grave." "I thought your family were merchants?" Estella asked, reaching for a cookie. ¡°why exactly did merchants need access to philosopher graves?¡± A small smile played at Lysa''s lips. My grandmother always said the best merchants know things they shouldn''t. Besides," she took a delicate sip, "you never know when you might need to negotiate with the dead.¡± The conversation lulled as we enjoyed our tea. Finally, Tirion set down his cup. "So, what are your plans now?" "Well, I need to replace my sword first," I gestured at the remains of my broken blade. "After that, I''m hoping to track down the Oracle." "The Oracle?" Tirion''s ears perked up with interest. "Why are you seeking them?" "We''re searching for information about the night," Estella interjected. Tirion and Lysa exchanged looks. "The night?" Lysa asked carefully as she set down her teacup. "That''s... an unusual interest¡­ Why are you interested in it?" Even Estella turned to look at me curiously. I realized I''d never actually told her why I was pursuing this quest. "I''m not entirely sure myself," I finally said. "You could call it destiny, though I hate using that word." I traced the rim of my cup, watching the steam curl into the air. "When I was on the surface, I witnessed things that didn''t make sense. People turning into monsters under a sun that never sets."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Ada''s transformed face flashed through my mind, the way her skin had crackled with light, how her eyes had blazed with an inhuman radiance. The golden locket felt heavy in my inventory. I had to suppress a shudder. "And then I received a message from the heavens that told me it was my divine duty to restore the night. At first, I just went along with it because..." I left out a laugh. "Well, what else was I going to do? But then I saw more. That old man in Ada''s camp, begging for death before the light could take him. Children playing with petrified humans like they were dolls. ''Light poisoning,'' they called it, like it was some natural disease and not the result of their precious God''s eternal day." I looked up to find them all watching me intently. Even Estella''s usual smile had faded, replaced with a focused look of concern. "You know, before I came to this place, back in another life..." I stared into my tea, watching my distorted reflection fragment in the dark liquid. "I had to do bad things. Things I wasn''t proud of." An image flashed across my mind, four bodies sprawled on a cold warehouse floor, blood pooling beneath them. That man was beside me, pointing at the remaining lady cowering in fear in the corner. The memory hit me like a physical blow, and I could almost smell the copper tang in the air again. My hands trembled slightly around the teacup. "Sorry," I muttered, setting down the cup before I could spill it. "I was good at what I did," I continued, my voice hollow. "Too good. But it was destroying me, bit by bit. Then I escaped and got a second chance. A chance to be someone else, to be someone better." A bitter laugh escaped me. "I thought I''d just play the hero for once, you know? Live out some power fantasy playing a knight where I get to save the world instead of... instead of what I was." I looked up, meeting their eyes one by one. "So yeah, maybe it started as just another quest line. But then I saw more.¡± My voice grew stronger, harder. "Now I need to know the truth. About the night, about this world, about why people have to suffer under endless light while their leaders call it divine punishment.¡± The tea''s steam twisted in the air as I met Lysa''s eyes. "Maybe restoring the night isn''t about destiny. Maybe it''s just about making things right." Silence filled the room, as no one knew how best to respond. Honestly, I didn¡¯t expect them to understand either. Maybe I shared a little too much. Sensing the awkwardness, I tried to lighten the mood. "Though at this rate, I might not make it that far," I said, trying to keep my tone light as I examined my dwindling funds. "I''ll go broke just keeping myself armed. At least the rats didn''t charge me for breaking my sword on their bones." Estella snorted into her tea, while Lysa''s expression softened slightly. Tirion set his cup down with a thoughtful look that made his whiskers twitch. Then Estella spoke, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "You know, in dance, we learn that sometimes stepping back is what makes the next move possible." She gave me a slight smile, different from her usual playful grin and lifted her teacup in a small salute. "Here''s to second chances, then." I nodded and returned her smile, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulders. "Whatever you went through, it¡¯s all in the past now.¡± Tirion said. Here in the Undercity, everyone has a fresh start. And speaking of fresh starts... if you''re looking for gold and information about the night, I might have something that could help with both." He reached into his inventory and pulled out a quest scroll, spreading it carefully on the table. "You might be interested in this quest." I eyed the document suspiciously. The last time someone offered me a quest, I ended up fighting a million rats. My Slayer of Rats skill was still mockingly active in my status window. "A fetch quest?" "Better." He pointed to the guild seal at the bottom. "Official commission from the Adventurers Guild. The Tomb of the First King. Recently uncovered in an excavated tunnel, and they''re paying premium rates for the first team to retrieve a treasure within it." Estella leaned forward, nearly knocking over her drink in her excitement. "The First King? As in, the founder of the Undercity? That''s not just a quest, that''s actual history!" Her eyes had that dangerous sparkle that gave me a bad feeling. "And what exactly are we looking for in there?" I asked. "The crown of the First King. An ancient artifact of considerable power, according to the old texts." Tirion answered. "Power?" That caught my attention. "What kind of power?" Lysa answered this time. "The legends say it was the source of the First King''s strength, that whoever wears it gains the right to rule the Undercity." She paused, her voice taking on the careful tone of a scholar. "Though these are mostly tales passed down through generations. No one today would recognize its authority. The Adventurers Guild''s interest is purely historical." She set her drink down, her expression growing more serious. "But there''s more to these stories than just politics. The ancient scriptures spoke of the First King''s reign and how he led a crusade against the God of Light. They say he possessed secrets about the night, knowledge that the God of Light wanted buried." She glanced at me meaningfully. "That part might be more interesting to you." I paused, weighing my options. More hints about the night were tempting, especially from someone as significant as the First King. But I was already done with Agatha quest. That seemed like a clearer path to complete the night quest. Starting a new quest now felt like getting sidetracked. "And the pay is good," Tirion added, clearly reading my hesitation. "Very good. Guild''s offering both gold and reputation points. Enough to get you any sword you need."
Adventurer Guild Quest
Explore the Tomb of the first king
Reward: 400 gold
Additional: Guild Reputation +500
400 gold. Even split four ways, that was 100 gold each. In sword terms, that meant... I did some quick math. A hundred common iron swords. Enough to last me a lifetime¡­ I hope. It was a tempting offer. I ran my fingers over my Nightsky blade, feeling the microscopic nicks and scratches on it.
Nightsky blade Durability: 70%
Warning: Durability decreasing
Maintenance required soon
The durability was still dropping. For the sake of not being a weaponless knight. I should probably get some gold soon. At this rate, I''d end up being the first Knight of the Night to fight with his fists. Not exactly the dramatic image I was going for. ¡°What do you say, will you two join us on this quest?¡± Tirion asked, looking between Estella and me. Estella leaned forward, practically bouncing in her seat. "Come on, it''ll be fun! When was the last time anyone got to explore the First King''s tomb?" I glanced at my sword one more time. Between my dwindling funds, my deteriorating weapon, and the prospect of both ancient knowledge and a hefty payday... well, maybe a small detour wouldn''t hurt. "Fine," I said, trying to sound reluctant despite having already made up my mind. "Let''s do this." Chapter 26: Operation Status Check I stared at the ceiling of my rented room in the Moonless Tavern, listening to the muffled sounds of chatter from below. Eight hours until our tomb raid, and here I was, wide awake. Something about planning to rob ancient graves got my spirit going.
Status: Insomnia
Effect: Unable to initiate rest cycle
Time until quest: 7:58:43
A gentle knock at my door broke through the tavern''s ambient noise. Three taps, precisely spaced. I dragged myself out of bed to open the door. The hallway torchlight revealed a handsome knight. He knelt before me and presented a sword with both arms raised. ¡°A gift for my lord.¡± He intoned with perfect theatrical flair.
Item Received: Common Iron Sword
I accepted the blade with a silent nod. Good job account #666. A message popped up on my screen.
[GM Seraphine] : We saw that. [Noctus Equitus]: It''s a gift from my dad for my birthday dude. Leave me alone. [GM Seraphine] : We''re watching you... Don''t push it.
The message was clear enough, the GMs were watching me closely. But that didn''t matter, they couldn''t prove anything, Now to check out how my other accounts were doing. Running multiple accounts was like managing a dysfunctional family, everyone had their role, their quirks, and their tendency to cause trouble if left unsupervised for too long. Back in my basement 10 different screens ran 10 instances of the World of Ruin. "Let''s see how the kids are doing," I muttered, looking at the first monitor. In it, a warrior in heavy plate armor was mindlessly swinging his sword at a training dummy. Account #127, grinding STR. Boring but necessary.
Account #127 Status
Name: Iron Will
Level: 3
Class: Warrior
STR: B
Current Activity: Basic Weapon Training
Time Elapsed: 6 hours, 42 minutes
Progress to Next Rank: 47%
I leaned closer to the screen, analyzing the character''s form. The macro worked perfectly ¨C swing, reset, swing, reset, each motion precisely timed to maximize the efficiency of the training algorithm. Most players assumed strength training was about repetition, but the system weighted each strike based on form and impact distribution. My macro incorporated small variations in timing and angle, just enough to avoid the anti-botting detection. "Show me the combat log," I whispered.
Combat Log
Basic Strike executed (Form Rating: 87%)
Training Progress: +0.03%
Muscle Memory activated
Stamina drain: minimal
Basic Strike executed (Form Rating: 86%)
Training Progress: +0.03%
Muscle Memory activated...
Perfect. The form ratings stayed above 85%, right in the sweet spot for optimal gains without triggering the system''s "too perfect" warnings. The funny thing about MMO combat systems, they''re designed to reward human imperfection. Too consistent, and the anti-cheat kicks in. Too random, and you lose efficiency. I briefly considered running the script on my main account. But that thought disappeared as I watched Iron Will execute another series of strikes. Despite all the anti-detection measures, his movements were still mechanical, efficient, and soulless. It would not fool human eyes. Any GM who checked would see through it easily. For a throwaway account, that¡¯s fine. For a main account, absolutely not. The second screen showed a mage in apprentice robes, deep in conversation with an old shopkeeper. Account #234, working on his Merchant reputation. More reputation meant better prices and better prices meant more profit.
[Account #234 Status]
Name: Sage Market
Level: 2
Class: Mage (Merchant Subclass)
Reputation: Friendly (672/1000)
Current Activity: Trade Negotiation
Active Buffs: Silver Tongue (Duration: 17:42)
Quest Progress: "A Merchant''s Honor" (7/10 trades completed)
I smirked as I watched the conversation play out. The old shopkeeper, Maxwell, was ¡­ unique. Most players found him frustrating, the old man could talk for hours about the history of every item in his shop. But that was exactly why I''d chosen him for reputation grinding. "Tell me more about the crystalline properties of mana potions," my alt prompted, and Maxwell''s eyes lit up. "Ah! A discerning customer with an interest in alchemical theory!" Maxwell clasped his hands together, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. "You see, the crystallization process is crucial to potion stability. Most apprentice alchemists make the mistake of focusing solely on the liquid phase, but it''s the micro-crystalline structure that truly determines potency. Why, just last week I had to reject an entire shipment because the crystal lattice showed that telltale clouding that indicates improper magic resonance. The key, you see, lies in the careful balance of moonstone dust during the final crystallization phase. The way the arcane energy patterns align with the natural crystalline matrix is simply fascinating..." "Fascinating indeed! How does the moonstone catalyst affect the stabilization?" I asked. The key to getting anyone to like you was to ask questions on topics they are interested in. Maxwell was one of those merchants with actual expertise in their field, so let¡¯s keep his passion going.
Social Engineering Check: Success
Reputation +2: Showing Interest in Specialty
Hidden Stat: Knowledge of Merchant Practices +1
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Maxwell practically glowed with enthusiasm. "Ah, now that''s the crucial question!" He pulled a mana potion from his shelf, holding it up to the light. "You see these faint luminescent threads within the liquid? That''s the moonstone matrix at work. Most merchants would tell you it''s just for show, but the crystalline structure serves as a stabilizing framework for the raw mana. Without it..." I watched my reputation meter tick up as he spoke. This was the difference between amateur and professional manipulation. Amateurs tried to rush their reputation by spamming trades. Professionals? We let the NPCs tell us exactly how to exploit them. Every passionate explanation was a road map to their decision-making algorithms.
Merchant Personality Type Identified: Scholar-Merchant
Optimal Approach: Technical Interest
Estimated Time to ''Trusted'' Status: 2-3 conversations
"And the purity of the moonstone must be crucial for that process," I prompted, mentally calculating how many more reputation points I needed before unlocking his special inventory. "I imagine that affects the final market value significantly?" Give them a chance to show off their expertise, then slide in a subtle reference to pricing. Basic psychology wrapped in technical interest. They ate it up every time. "Oh, absolutely critical!" Maxwell''s eyes lit up with that special gleam merchants get when they can justify their prices through expertise. "You see, the market is flooded with inferior products using low-grade moonstone dust. Why, just last week, a supplier tried to sell me potions made with limestone mixed with moonstone powder!" He shuddered dramatically. "Can you imagine? The crystalline matrix would collapse within days!" "That must make it difficult to maintain a reliable supply," I commented, watching his expression carefully. Every merchant had their tells ¨C the slight tightening around the eyes when supply was mentioned, the way they glanced at their shelves. Maxwell''s inventory was fuller than usual. Someone had sold him a large batch recently.
Merchant Stock Analysis
Current Stock: 127
Superior Mana Potions
Historical Average: 50-60 units
Market Opportunity Detected
"Indeed, indeed," he sighed, patting his shelf of gleaming blue potions. "These days, I only work with three suppliers I trust implicitly. The cost is higher, of course, but my customers understand the value of quality." He picked up another potion, tilting it to show the crystalline patterns. "See how the light catches these formations? That''s what you get with pure moonstone from the Deep Mines."
Hidden Information Unlocked
Supplier Count: 3
Material Source: Deep Mines
Quality Verification Method: Light refraction patterns
I made a mental note to check if any of my mining alts had access to the Deep Mines yet. If Maxwell was paying a premium for pure moonstone, there might be an opportunity there. "The craftsmanship is obvious," I agreed. "Though I imagine maintaining such high standards can''t be easy in the current market." Maxwell beamed at the recognition. "A fellow connoisseur! You know, it''s refreshing to meet someone who understands these subtle details. Most customers just look at the price tag without considering the complexity of proper potion crystallization. Why, the stabilization process alone takes three full moons..." I settled in for another long technical explanation. Each minute of conversation was adding to my reputation meter. When he was finally done, it was time to make my ask. "Speaking of mana potions," my alt said carefully, "I couldn''t help but notice you have quite a stock of Superior grade..."
Negotiation System Activated
Starting Price: 20 silver
Merchant Disposition: Friendly
Knowledge Bonus: +7% (Crystalline Properties Discussion)
Reputation Modifier: +12% (Recent Conversation)
"I usually don¡¯t do this,¡± Maxwell beamed. ¡°But I just got a surplus shipment to unload. For you, my studious friend, I could part with them for 16 silver each."
Transaction Analysis
Market Price: 20 silver
Negotiated Price: 16 silver
Reputation Discount: -2.5 silver
Knowledge Bonus: -1.5 silver
Net Savings: 4 silver per unit
Most players would celebrate getting a 4 silver discount. But that wasn''t the real prize. Account #475 knew a mage buying mana potions at 19 silver each, no questions asked. The beauty of reputation systems ¨C when you controlled both ends of a trade route, the real profit was in the price difference. I authorized the purchase of fifty potions, watching Maxwell''s expression brighten further. The reputation meter ticked up again.
Reputation Milestone Reached
Status Updated: Friendly -> Trusted
New Trade Options Available
Special Order System Unlocked
Perfect. I was tempted to transfer all the profits to my main account but that would be bad practice. A single sword could be passed off as a gift. An entire botnet funneling one account was an invitation to get banned. I moved to the third screen. Account #456 was exactly where I''d left him, standing in the market square and advertising "WEAPON REPAIRS!" in the chat. The blacksmith NPC nearby kept shooting my alt suspicious looks, probably because I''d been undercutting his prices for the past week. I''d been grinding my repair skills on this account, slowly working through the tiers: copper, bronze, iron... But it was the mythril-adamantium hybrid that I needed to understand. The Nightsky Blade''s composition was unlike anything in the standard repair tables. Most days, my attempts barely reached 60% efficiency on simple iron weapons - a far cry from what I''d need for legendary-tier maintenance. Still, every failed repair taught me something new about metal stress patterns and magical resonance. Hopefully, one day this alt would be able to repair my Nightsky Blade without it costing me an arm and a leg at those highway-robbery NPC smiths. Until then, I had a growing collection of broken practice swords and a repair skill that was climbing painfully slowly.
Repair Skill Progress: 456/1000
Current Tier: Iron
Next Milestone: Steel Repair Certification
The fourth screen made me pause. Where #789 should have been grinding sewer fiends, there was only grey emptiness. I pulled up his final logs.
Account #789 Status: Terminated
Cause of Death: Sewer Slime
Location: Western Sewers
Time of Death: 2:47 AM
My hand tightened on the mouse. All that experience, all that investment, gone because of some random mob spawn. The permadeath system was no joke. I played back his final moments. The sewer tunnel, the sudden burst of slimes, that desperate attempt to run before... grey. Just grey. "Sorry, dear friend." I muttered, closing the window. Screens five through ten showed my gathering team, spread across different resource nodes in the Undercity. Basic materials were the foundation of any economy, and controlling the supply meant controlling the market. Each character had been carefully built with specific stats and skills: one for mining, one for herbs, one for salvage... Account #314 was deep in the crystalline caves, his pickaxe methodically chipping away at a moonstone vein. The herb gatherer, #412, crouched in the phosphorescent mushroom gardens, carefully selecting the ripest specimens. My salvage specialist, #521, picked through the ruins of old Undercity districts, searching for rare materials in the rubble. Each account was positioned at optimal farming spots I''d discovered through weeks of careful observation. The market prices for raw materials fluctuated based on time and location ¨C moonstone was worth double near the alchemists'' district, salvaged metals sold best to the blacksmiths'' guild, and certain herbs only grew in specific conditions of darkness and moisture. It wasn''t just about gathering resources; it was about understanding the complex web of supply and demand that kept the Undercity''s economy running. And right now, I had my fingers on every major thread of that web. I leaned back in my chair admiring my work. The GMs might have noticed my mass-summoning trick, but they''d never prove anything about this operation. Now time to get back to my main story. The other accounts could handle themselves for a while. Chapter 27: Bloody Edge I sat cross-legged in a quiet corner of my room in the Moonless Tavern. Two swords lay before me on the threadbare carpet: my newly acquired iron sword, and the twisted remains of its predecessor that we''d salvaged from the sewers. The faint scent of rust and rat blood still clung to the broken blade, with only a single fragment remaining attached to the hilt. My stomach growled, reminding me I''d been at this for hours, but I couldn''t stop now. Not when I was close to understanding what had gone wrong. The memories of the sewer battle flashed through my mind. The rush of power when I channeled Spellblade had been intoxicating. The spell had transformed my mundane iron sword into something that could defeat the rat king. But the cost... I picked up the broken sword to inspect it.
Inspect: Damaged Iron Sword
Status: Broken Durability: 0/100
Note: Severe structural damage from magical overload. Beyond repair.
If I wanted to avoid spending all my money on swords, I would need to learn to control my skills better. I took a look at my skills again
Spellblade: Channel mana to imbue your weapon with an elemental spell
Blood Weapon: Self-inflict bleeding status, perfect for giving your weapon a grimdark feel
Dark Aura: Create an intimidating aura of darkness. Great for dramatic effect
I snorted at the descriptions. Seriously, what kind of skills were these? Spellblade was potent, when it wasn¡¯t busy devasting my equipment. The other two? They read like flavor text from some edgelord''s character sheet. I stared at the broken blade again. It had shattered cleanly, with cracks lines along its edge. But something about those fracture patterns nagged at me. I held the blade closer to the light, tracing the network of cracks with my finger. They weren''t the chaotic spider-web pattern you''d expect from metal stress. Instead, they spread out regularly, branching and dividing like... "A river delta," I muttered, mind racing as I mapped the pattern. The cracks formed a perfect dendritic system, each tributary splitting off at precise angles. It was too ordered to be random damage. That''s when it clicked. In a river delta, water carved those channels by following paths of least resistance. These cracks... they weren''t just damage. They were a map. I stared at the fractured metal with new eyes. "If water flows through a river," I whispered, an idea taking shape, "what exactly flows through these?" Time to experiment. I cleared space on the worn wooden table beneath the room''s single window, careful not to knock over the half-empty healing potion. The dim light from the candles gave me just enough illumination to work with. I sketched out the crack pattern onto a notepad. Then, I drew my new iron blade.
Spellblade
"Start with the absolute minimum," I muttered, carefully reaching for my mana. The problem was, I had no real reference for what "minimum" meant. I touched the blade with what I thought was a tiny amount of mana. The steel immediately flared up. "Damn it." I pulled back instantly, checking the blade for damage. No visible stress fractures, but that had been far too much. The sword felt warm to the touch.
Inspect: Iron Sword
Status: Slight stress damage
Durability: 87/100
I closed my eyes, trying to conceptualize the mana flow. It was like trying to control a fire hose by feel. I needed better precision. What was the smallest amount I could possibly... The candle flame flickered and caught my attention. That''s what I needed - not a bonfire, but the smallest possible flame. A single point of light. I touched the sword again, trying to imagine the smallest possible amount of mana. Like reaching for a single grain of sand instead of grabbing a handful. Nothing happened. Good. I increased it fractionally, imagining that grain of sand becoming two. Still nothing. Another fraction. Like adding one more grain. The barest shimmer ran along the blade''s edge, like moonlight on water. The effect was so subtle I might have missed it if I hadn''t been watching for it. I tried to memorize exactly how this level of flow felt. It was like balancing a drop of water on a blade''s edge ¨C the slightest tremor would send it spilling over. I closed my eyes, trying to burn this exact sensation into my memory. The mana flow felt like trying to balance a single droplet of morning dew on a spider''s web ¨C precarious, delicate, but with a strange sort of stability if you got it just right. One wrong twitch and it would all collapse. When I opened my eyes again, I added another grain of mana. Hairline traces of light began appearing in the metal, spreading like frost across a window pane. I held up my earlier sketch for comparison, squinting in the dim candlelight. The patterns were similar, but the sketch showed a more complex network of branches, like I was only seeing the main tributaries without their smaller streams. The blade''s internal structure was there, but it felt... incomplete. Like a puzzle missing half its pieces. I continued to add more mana. More lines appeared, branching naturally from the first set. The blade started to glow, becoming more responsive, like an instrument finding the right pitch.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Each increment revealed new patterns spiraling through the metal. At 10% of my mana, the blade flared with sudden brightness. The network of lines reached its full development, matching my earlier sketch down to the smallest branch. This confirmed my theory, the lines were illustrating the internal structure of the blade. Like water finding its way through cracks in stone, mana sought to flow through natural paths in the metal¡¯s structure.
Inspect: Iron Sword
Status: Growing structural fatigue
Durability: 71/100
Note: Mana saturation at critical threshold
Ten percent. That was the iron sword''s hard limit. Push beyond that, and the excess mana would flood those delicate channels, shattering the blade from within. Like trying to force a river through a drinking straw. My gaze shifted to the Nightsky Blade resting beside me. I lifted it carefully.
Spellblade
Starting with the same minimal flow I''d perfected on the iron sword, I channeled a single grain of mana. The response was immediate - where the iron blade had required coaxing, the Nightsky Blade practically leapt to life. Threads of light traced through the dark metal, but unlike the iron sword''s rigid tributaries, these patterns swirled and danced like auroras. The words of the master smith Doran came to mind. Embedded ancient runes... enhances magical conductivity by a hundred percent. So this is what he meant. The same trickle of mana that had barely illuminated the iron sword was creating a light show in the legendary blade. I continued to pour more mana in. Where the iron sword''s channels were like rivers carved in stone, the Nightsky blade''s pathways felt alive. As I added in more mana, the patterns didn''t just branch ¨C they evolved, forming intricate fractals that seemed to fold in on themselves. "So this is what legendary means¡­," I muttered, holding both blades side by side. The iron sword had nearly shattered at 10% mana input, its channels strained to their limit. But at the same power level, the Nightsky blade was still eagerly drinking in my mana, its patterns forming new configurations that flowed fluidly. The blade felt cool to the touch despite the energy coursing through it, as if it was designed to channel far greater powers than this simple test. I sketched the patterns quickly, trying to capture their movement. The iron sword''s diagram looked like a tree branch, rigid and predictable. The Nightsky''s looked more like frost forming on a window, free forming and evolving. The legendary blade wasn''t just providing channels for mana ¨C it was actively shaping the flow, guiding it into more efficient patterns. No wonder the iron sword broke. It tried to force mana through fixed pathways, while the Nightsky blade could adapt its internal structure to accommodate the flow. It wasn''t about durability ¨C it was about flexibility. Like the difference between pouring water through a pipe and having it flow through a living circulatory system. I stared at my sketches, mind racing. The mana flow patterns kept drawing my eye. They looked almost organic, like veins in a leaf. Or veins in... My eyes drifted to my wrist. If mana could flow through these channels... Blood was just another kind of flow, wasn''t it?
Warning: Concerning thoughts detected. Please seek help if experiencing self-harm ideation
I snorted at the system message. "It''s for science," I mumbled. One quick, careful nick on my fingertip - just enough to draw a single drop of blood. I held my breath as it fell, watching it strike the iron sword''s edge with scientific precision.
Blood Weapon activated
The blood traced the same patterns I''d mapped with mana. It didn''t just coat the blade, it penetrated the metal on a molecular level, seeping into microscopic imperfections I hadn''t even known existed. Where mana had felt like forcing water through rigid pipes, blood seemed to seep into the metal itself. Each crimson droplet seemed to know exactly where to go, following paths that mirrored the mana channels through the metal''s structure.
Blood Weapon Effect Enhanced: Iron Sword is absorbing blood
Material Response: Anomalous blood absorption detected
Channel Formation: Enhanced conductivity in existing pathways
"Now that''s interesting," I muttered. I added more blood to it, this time with a thin cut on my palm. The blood flowed freely down the blade.
Status Effect: Minor Bleeding (1 minute)
HP -0.3/s
The patterns I''d seen with mana repeated themselves, but now in crimson fractals that seemed to pulse with my heartbeat. The blade felt alive in my hands like it was trying to sync with my cardiac system. I felt a surge, but it was different from Spellblade. Instead of draining outward, it felt like the blade was creating a circuit between my blood and my blade. As blood flowed down the blade, I noticed something else. The blade felt... hungry. Each drop of blood that disappeared into the metal made it feel a fraction heavier. "Just a little more data," I told myself, even as I wrapped my hand around the bare steel. The rational part of my brain noted this was probably a terrible idea but I felt compelled to feed its hunger.
Status Effect: Bleeding (1 hour)
HP -0.5/s
Warning: Self-harm detected. Please seek help
Blood gushed out of my palm, painting my blade red. The blade vibrated in my arm as it drank.
Iron Sword Temporary Enhancement: Blood-Forged (Attack +10)
I understood this spell now. It wasn''t about making the weapon look edgy; it''s using blood as a catalyst to temporarily reinforce the blade''s structure. A version of Spellblade that used HP instead of mana. Curious, I gave the blade an experimental swing. The blood coating the edge seemed to ripple, and a thin crimson line traced through the air where the blade had passed. My eyes widened as the line hung there for a moment before dissipating. I made another careful swing, focusing on the sensation. This time I could feel it, the blood flowing from my bloody palm, guided down the channels of the blade. Each swing left that same crimson trail, like a painter''s brush through the air.
Skill learnt: Bloodedge
I forced myself to release the blade, suddenly aware of how light-headed I felt. My hands were trembling slightly - blood loss or excitement, I wasn''t sure which. I glanced at my HP bar. The drain was significant, but not unmanageable. "Finally," I muttered, watching the blood-enhanced patterns pulse along my blade, "a skill that won''t bankrupt me with repair costs." I reached for my medical supplies, wrapping my bloodied hand in bandages. If I was going to be using my own blood as a weapon enhancement, I should probably stock up on health potions. Now time to visit a witch. Chapter 28: Back to Agatha The next day, I dragged myself out of bed before the tavern''s usual crowd came in. My muscles still ached, but I had questions that needed answers. The others would meet me at the guild hall later, but first, I needed to pay another visit to our favorite witch. Without Estella to guide me, the path to Agatha would have been close to impossible to navigate. But thankfully I had already saved down the waypoints during our previous trip. Each twist and turn in the Undercity''s labyrinthine passages had been carefully noted, complete with landmarks like "weird glowing mushroom" and "creepy statue missing head." The early hour meant the usual bustling crowds of the Undercity were absent. Without the constant flow of people, the carved stone corridors felt older, more ancient. I passed through the market district, now eerily empty save for a few vendors setting up their stalls. The scent of fresh bread from a bakery made my stomach growl, reminding me I''d skipped breakfast in my haste. But I pressed on, knowing the others would be awake soon. The deeper I went, the more the architecture changed. The well-maintained tunnels of the main Undercity gave way to rougher passages, where moss grew in the corners and water occasionally dripped from above. The air grew thick with that familiar musty scent that seemed to follow Agatha everywhere. As I navigated through the increasingly maze-like passages, I couldn''t help but appreciate how different this journey felt from our first visit. Back then, I''d been following Estella''s lead, too focused on not losing sight of her to take in our surroundings. Now, with my waypoints guiding me, I could appreciate the subtle signs of ancient civilization carved into the walls ¨C worn-down reliefs depicting scenes I couldn''t quite make out, script in languages I didn''t recognize. Finally, I reached the familiar cross-section where Estella had first warned us about taking wrong turns. Three identical passages stretched out before me, but my waypoint marker indicated the rightmost path. I smiled, remembering Estella''s dramatic warning about getting lost. She''d probably be annoyed that I left her to travel alone, but maybe also a little impressed. The last stretch of tunnel leading to Agatha''s door was just as I remembered it, uncomfortably narrow, with that strange green moss growing along the ceiling. The witch''s various wind chimes and hanging trinkets came into view, their soft tinkling creating an oddly welcoming atmosphere despite the gloomy surroundings. Standing before her door, I took a deep breath. I raised my hand to knock, wondering if the old witch was even awake at this hour. But before my knuckles could touch the worn wood, the door creaked open on its own. "I was wondering when you''d show up, boy," Agatha''s raspy voice called from within. "Come in. The tea''s already hot." The interior of Agatha''s hut was exactly as I remembered it, a cluttered maze of hanging herbs, bubbling potions, and questionable taxidermy. But something was different this time. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized we weren''t alone. Agatha was seated in a corner on a rickety rocking chair that creaked ominously with each gentle motion. But it was her guest that made me stop short. In the corner, the hearth''s light revealed a figure I''d hoped not to meet again so soon. It was the Guide, sitting there with his yellow eyes that cut through the gloom like twin lanterns in the dark. "Ah, if it isn''t the chosen one himself," his voice carried that familiar echo. I''d only met them once before, during my first moments in the Undercity, but that voice was impossible to forget. "You seem awfully free for someone who should be at the entrance greeting newbies," I ventured. Those yellow eyes brightened with something that might have been amusement. "Some players need directions to the marketplace. Others need to be pointed toward destiny." They gestured to an empty cup on the small table between them. "But enough of that, would you like some tea?" I hesitated, trying to process the scene before me. The Guide and Agatha together? That couldn''t be a coincidence. Before I could voice any questions, Agatha leaned forward in her chair, her ancient bones creaking almost as loudly as the wood beneath her. "Do you have what I want, boy?" Her rheumy eyes fixed on me with surprising intensity. I reached into my inventory and produced the rat tail, still slightly grimy from the sewers. "I went to the sewers and fought a million rats for this." I couldn''t keep the edge from my voice. "This better be worth it." Agatha''s weathered face cracked into a grin, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp to be entirely human. "Now why would you do that? Rat tails are available in the market. For cheap as well." The rat tail suddenly felt very heavy in my hand. I thought about all those hours in the sewers, the million rats, the giant dog, the masked figure, and the Rat King boss battle. All for something I could have bought at the market for pocket change. Somewhere, Estella was probably laughing. This had her sense of humor written all over it.
Achievement Unlocked: Market Research Failed
Note: Always check the auction house before accepting fetch quests
"Why couldn''t you get it yourself then?" I finally blurted out. "Aye aye, the sass on this one." The Guide''s chuckle was like distant wind chimes. He took a sip from their cup, though I couldn''t see how with no visible mouth beneath his hood.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Agatha''s rocking chair creaked forward again. "My back isn''t what it used to be, I needed someone to fetch a rat tail." She waved her gnarled hand dismissively. "Now sit down and stop being so rebellious. You remind me of someone I knew long ago. It didn''t end well for them either." I remained standing, but the Guide''s next words caught my attention. "Good job on the sewers though. Word is already beginning to spread around town about a new topsider." Their yellow eyes seemed to flicker with interest. Despite my annoyance, I couldn''t help but feel a spark of pride. "Really? What are they saying about me?" The Guide''s hood tilted slightly. ¡°They call you the rat slayer. The best pest control in town. The merchants are particularly impressed. Apparently, the rat population in their warehouses has dropped significantly. Less spoilage, they love you" ... Great. Now I¡¯m the friendly neighborhood pest exterminator. I blamed Estella. She''s probably been telling everyone about our sewer adventure, complete with dramatic reenactments at the Moonless Tavern. I could imagine her dancing version of the Rat King battle. "The merchants want to give you a title now. ''Savior of Storages¡¯, has a good ring if you ask me" the Guide added. "Please tell me you''re joking." "Oh no, there was quite the debate in the merchant''s guild. ''Savior of Storages'' won out over ''Warehouse Protector'' and ''The Ratless Wonder.''" I groaned. I remembered hearing about the Savior of Storages from my merchant alts but I didn¡¯t drew the connection then. "Estella can never know about those titles." "Too late," Agatha chimed in, rocking in her chair. "That girl has ears everywhere. She''s probably already working them into her next performance." "Speaking of performances," the Guide mused, "I heard the most interesting rendition of your rat king battle. Did you really ride the king like a mount while shooting fire from your eyes?" I buried my face in my hands. "¡­"
Reputation Update: Merchant''s Guild
Previous Standing: Unknown
Current Standing: Respected
Benefits Unlocked: 10% discount at guild-affiliated shops
Title earned: "Savior of Storages"
Local Fame increased
Undercity Reputation Level: 3/9
Note: Multiple factions now recognize your presence.
Current standings:
Merchant''s Guild: Respected
Moonless Tavern Regulars: Friendly
Sewer Maintenance Crew: Honored ("Never have to do their job again, bless you")]
Great. The discounts would be amazing if I had any gold to spend. But I didn''t come here for reputation management. "So where''s the Oracle?" I fixed my gaze on Agatha. "I upheld my end of the bargain." "Aye, yes you did." Agatha''s rocking slowed to a stop. For a moment, the only sound was the soft bubbling of various potions around us. "She went to investigate the ruins of the Oblivion Temple. If you head there, you can find her."
New Location Discovered: Oblivion Temple
Quest Updated: Find the Oracle
The Guide''s yellow eyes flared at the mention of the temple. "Interesting choice. Not many remember that place exists anymore." "With good reason," Agatha murmured, her gnarled fingers tightening on her chair''s armrest. "The temple has been abandoned since the Demon King¡¯s reign ended. They say the First King himself sealed it off. Whatever''s inside..." She shook her head. "It¡¯s probably best to let it remain in history" My mind raced. The First King, the same one whose tomb we were planning to raid. And the Demon King? This sounded like one of those "here''s the dungeon that''ll reveal why the whole world is messed up" situations. "And how do I get there?" I asked. Agatha''s sharp-toothed grin returned. "I promised you where, not how to get there." She gestured to the tea. "You still haven¡¯t drunk. I didn¡¯t brew it just to watch it get cold. The oracle isn¡¯t going anywhere¡­ yet. Why don¡¯t you take a seat and perhaps we can negotiate another deal."
Warning: Deal with caution. Witch contracts may have hidden clauses
I looked at the tea dubiously. The liquid inside the cup was a murky purple that was somehow translucent and opaque simultaneously. Occasional bubbles rose to the surface with tiny ''plop'' sounds The Guide must have noticed my expression because they lifted their cup in what seemed like a toast. "It''s an acquired taste." ¡°Like poison?¡± I quipped. "Only mildly," the Guide assured me. "Agatha saves the good poisons for special occasions." "Very funny you two." Agatha rolled her eyes. "If I wanted to poison you, boy, I wouldn''t waste good tea doing it." "That''s... not as reassuring as you probably think it is." I looked between her and the Guide, whose yellow eyes seemed to glow brighter with amusement. The tea was one thing, but no way was I going to take another deal with her. I pushed the tea away. "Keep your secrets and your suspicious beverages. I''ll find my own way to the Oblivion Temple." "Will you now?" Agatha''s rocking chair creaked forward one final time. "And I suppose you know all about the creatures that lurk in the deep passages? The forgotten traps? The¡ª" "He''ll figure it out," the Guide interrupted, their yellow eyes flickering with that impossible-to-read amusement. "After all, he managed to find his way here without his dancer friend. Speaking of which..." They turned those unnerving orbs toward me. "Shouldn''t you be meeting your companions soon?"
Time: 7:45 AM
Quest Reminder: Meet at Adventurer''s Guild by 8:00 AM
I cursed under my breath. They were right ¨C the others would be waiting. I left Agatha''s hut with more questions than answers, but at least I had a direction now. As I hurried back through the twisting passages, I couldn''t help but wonder if our tomb raid might turn up something useful about the temple too. After all, who better to leave clues about a sealed dungeon than the king who sealed it? But enough pondering for now. I had a tomb to raid.