In the Capital city of the “NPC kingdom” as so many players liked to call it a certain assassin just arrived and would need to report to his master.

Normally a person like him with such bad news would have been afraid to deliver such news, but he knew that his master was far from being unreasonable and knew that one does not kill the messenger, no matter how terribly stupid the message was...

The assassin, without even bothering to do anything else went towards the thief's district but not into the thief guild as one might have thought. His point of interest was a certain pub that always had one chair reserved for his master.

The man arrived and went inside, he no longer was covered in dark and actually wore normal cloth that with his skills and experience made him not stand out in the slightest, no, instead he was not noticed by anyone and ignored by all commoners and experts alike. Only once he would reveal his blood lust would anyone be able to notice him.

Yes, he was Greatmaster assassin and trained beneath his master and was one rank beneath him. He was his right hand and prided himself in it the most.

His master as always was sitting quietly and drinking himself to death. Or at least trying.

Of course as for individuals like him, favored by the gods, death was no longer an option or he would have chosen it long ago but could not. All that remeained to him was his thirst for vengance and the tiny slimmer of hope to return the love of his live.

The assassin looked at his master. Objectively speaking, if you were to look at him and at a homeless person that did not take a bath in 2 years, with shit stains on the back of his pants and a mouth that somehow managed to smell even worse, you would probably have more pity with the man sitting in the pub and drowning himself in alcohol. This was just how terrible he looked.

No wonder that kid had little to no respect towards him, even after witnessing a fraction of his true skills.

The assassin thought on the first mission the kid had to go trough. It was nothing special, the uroboru organization had nested themselves near the capital and that terribly pissed all of them off so they needed to somehow get rid of it without letting them follow it back to them and it was only a small innocent mission that meant little to nothing and yet it started all of it...

“Master, I have returned.” The man sat beside him.

“...” He remained silent and did not bother to even look in his direction. What a legendary man has been reduced to... Not that it was an upgrade from a few years back where Rust spend most of his time trying to kill himself as his pain was to large to handle and he had no hope.

“Master, as we have predicted the uroboru have started to follow them and have already made their move.”

He snorted. “How?”

“One of their companions, a previous slave that was freed by one of Artjems friends of one of uroboru hideouts was killed by them. I did my best to warn them as a good sign of my will, but.. they must have taken it the wrong way.” The man had a cruel smiled on his face.

He did indeed warn them, but alas he knew of Artjems idiocy and bad temperament. No, he did not want to help them but no one could blame him, at least he “tried”. Also.. helping them was never his desire to begin with, help would not make them into useful allies, it was much easier to vilify the enemy and make them join on their own accord. The beautiful illusion of choice and free will... 

“... Yes, indeed. They are a quite... formidable team of strangers. One is already obligated to help us, one more should soon also have a strong desire to. Gaining their support would indeed be nice.. Not that it really matters.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Despite him saying that one should never underestimate the power of strangers, Rust of all people should now that the best. It was a “Fallen”, one of the most powerful strangers after all that had done it to him. He already had a few of the strangers on their side, but unfortunately immortality did not make all of them useful...

“And where is my dear disciple?” He snorted with mockery.

The assassin remained silent and had some beads of sweat on his face.

“That idiot still has not finished his training, pff...” Rust downed another glass of whiskey like it was water and filled himself more.

The assassin pulled the “gift” out of his pocket and gave it to his master. A picture...

...................

“I believe the strangers call that a “Dickpic”” He finally said to the silent Rust.

His master suddenly pulled a whole bottle of whiskey and started to drink out of it. “I need more to deal with this shit.” Was all he said before downing all of it in one go.

“Another thing I have found out..” He quickly added before his master could possibly go mad. “Their next destination is the Maze of infinity and from my investigation they will join a certain guild there. Possibly even assisting them even further if you know what I mean...” he did not need to speak further as they both indeed knew what he was talking about. The uroboru organization had deep roots, incredibly deep. Even the strangers they despised so much were mostly under their control. “It is just weird that the guild wants them on their side while the organization seems to want to punish them for going against it... But then again, it is really not that surprising.”

“Ha ha.” Rust suddenly began to laugh. “Then they are destined to have an enmity with each other, sooner or later this will absolutely be the case. Now all we have to do is relax and wait...”

“Are you sure they won't join them?”

“Who knows? Do I look like fucking Jesus to you? No, all I can do is to conclude that someone as Artjem will never submit himself to anyone and them... they only look for absolute submission. As for the his team?? Well, they are insane enough to actually follow him so they must have a few screw loose themselves. No, they won't join them. Now the question remains if they will be pawns in this battle or whether they will actually hold positions of value...”

Rust glanced at the picture in his hands.

“I want a copy of this... No, I want a model. It shall be made from licorice and rosins.”

The man was not so sure if it worked that way and if anyone could actually bake(?) something but he did not question this order.

“By my mothers grave.” Rust took his glass and lifted it towards the sky. “I swear that I will make that little shit eat his own cock.” He smirked cruely. “You reap what you sow.”

AN: Back with dem dank ass dick jokes.

Gonna write this shitty fiction of mine rather casually from now on. Expectations should be low, so basically as it has been up till now. I want to at least conclude the arc that leads up to the first Raid and then see how the reception was as it has something I have been building up for quite a while now and I want to at least write that part. If people hate it (more than they hate it now) then I will most likely abandon it. If not, than there are clearly things wrong with you but let's see for now.

Basically letting you know that I am back, more chapters within a short delay.

So... Yay?