Scott occupied a seat in the boat, aware of the weight of the other travelers' gazes fixed upon him. However, his attention remained captivated by the boatman, whose deft maneuvers propelled the vessel forward with an eerie yet impressive quietude. Shifting his position, he sensed the solid wooden surface beneath him. Despite his initial expectations of a small boat, its dimensions now revealed a size larger than anticipated, as if it expanded to accommodate their journey.
The night enveloped them in silence, broken only by the rhythmic sound of water gently lapping against the boat's sides. Even the starry skies above struggled to penetrate the eerie mist shrouding the tranquil waters.
Leaning against the boat's side, Scott focused on the placid expanse of water. His penetrating gaze cut through the blinding mist, revealing his own reflection in the rippling waters. A frown creased his face as he studied his unaltered mask. Why doesn’t it look any different? Scott wondered, his fingers drumming on the gunwale in frustration.
As they sailed farther across the expanse of turquoise waters, Scott noticed a peculiar sight in the reflection of his citrine eyes. Something seemed amiss. Whispers reached him, faint and elusive. He strained to decipher the words, but they remained muffled, as if emanating from an ethereal realm. Suddenly, his own reflection began a macabre dance, distorting and twisting, as though heralding the ascent of a demon from the abyss. Curiously, Scott felt no fear. Instead, his gaze remained defiant, challenging whatever lurked beneath the surface to reveal itself.
The distortion ceased abruptly, accompanied by the fading whispers. Scott's reflection returned to its normal state. An unnatural chuckle escaped the boatman, unsettling the other passengers. Scott, however, merely shot a fleeting glance at the laughing figure before turning away. Yet, his attention sharply shifted back to the old man, his gaze fixed on the oar in the boatman's hands.
With each dip into the water, the turquoise waves voraciously consumed most of the oar, leaving it seemingly devoured. Yet, as soon as the old man lifted the oar from the water, the wood miraculously regenerated. Scott couldn't help but marvel at the mysterious phenomenon. What kind of wood possessed such extraordinary resilience?
The old man turned toward him, a casual smile gracing his weathered face, as though he could decipher the eldritch spawn's thoughts. Yet, he remained silent, and Scott followed suit. The journey persisted in silence, the air growing colder as they approached the towering peaks. Even a segment of the river had frozen over, but it proved powerless to obstruct the small boat. It cleaved through the ice, navigating its path with seamless grace. To Scott's astonishment, the fractured ice knitted back together as soon as the boat glided past.
Countless mysteries abound in this world, and Scott couldn't shake the feeling that he had yet to witness the tip of the iceberg. He sighed, surrendering to the embrace of sleep as he closed his eyes. The notion that the enigmatic figures from the Shadow Syndicate might target him didn't even flicker across his mind. Despite Milina's silence on the matter, he was confident that no rational soul would dare to engage in a confrontation aboard the vessel.
Scott reached into his inventory and retrieved a thick fur blanket, cocooning himself within its warmth. The trio surrounding him followed suit, their eyes shutting as they seamlessly slipped into the realm of dreams.
As dawn broke, biting cold gripped the waters even tighter, sending a shiver down the spines of the sleeping passengers. The morning sun heralded the departure of the eerie mist. Scott stared at the massive peaks in the distance, which seemed to stretch into the heavens. There were no trees or vegetation in sight, only a vast expanse of white. Scott focused on the makeshift harbor situated at the beach, lined with frozen rocks and boulders. He narrowed his gaze, staring at the floating, wooden jetty. Are those people?
Over a dozen figures clad in thick fur clothes gathered at the edge of the jetty, watching as the boat drew near. The boatman deftly steered the small vessel into the harbor, and as they drew nearer, the other passengers stood up, preparing to disembark. Scott hesitated, staring at the blinking arrowhead which pointed toward the mountains.
The boatman hit the oars on the boat, and it stopped in front of the floating jetty. The shadow syndicate trio disembarked first, then Scott followed them. A woman sprinted toward Scott, reaching for his arm, “Welcome. Do you need a guide?” She said, her expectant eyes focused on the masked man.
Scott deftly dodged her hand while shaking his head. “I’m okay.”
Disappointment flashed across the young lady’s face, and that of the lingering guides behind her. Some even looked down on the masked man. After all, they could clearly see his tattered robes behind his blanket.
Undeterred by the mixed reactions, Scott spoke up again, directing his query to the young lady. “Do you happen to sell coats?”
“Um, yeah, yeah I do,” The young lady said, recovering from her initial disappointment. “Do you have anything in mind? Or do you prefer I choose something for you?”
“Give me something cheap, something that would also guarantee I won't freeze to death while crossing this mountain,” Scott requested.
The young lady chuckled. “I understand. What do you have in exchange?” Before Scott could retort, she cast a quick, furtive glance at her competitors over her shoulder. “This way, sir. We can discuss it more discreetly over there,” she urged with a friendly smile.
Scott followed the blonde woman, his gaze fixed on the system message displayed in front of his eyes. He took a quick look at the guide’s interface, but nothing stood out of the ordinary, apart from her large collection of gruff wine and fur clothes.
As always, Scott shifted his attention toward her quests, and his brows furrowed.
Quests
Main Quest: Return to the starting Point – Not started! Side Quest: Guide a thousand champions – (200/1000) – Ongoing! Side Quest: Make two thousand sales – (108/2000) – Ongoing!
Why would the system give her such a strange quest? He couldn’t imagine what kind of reward, if there was any to begin with, she would receive upon completion.
The duo strolled away from the jetty, finding refuge behind a cluster of rocks. A radiant smile adorned the young lady's face as she conjured a thick fur coat and boots into her hands. “What are you going to trade for it?” she inquired.
Scott's gaze lingered on the immaculate, snow-white coat, its purity suggesting seamless integration with the wintry surroundings. He cast a swift glance at her inventory before producing a blackened jar in his hands. “I believe this should more than suffice.”
The young lady, momentarily frozen, couldn't tear her eyes away from the jar. Gruff wine, especially the highest quality varieties rarely traded by the elusive gruffpaws, was unmistakable to any seasoned guide. She licked her lips, reaching for the jar, but Scott swiftly smacked her arm away. “Give me the coat and boots first.”
“Of course. Here you go.” She smiled as she tossed the coat to the masked man.
Scott deftly caught the featherlight item, swiftly donning it while seamlessly stowing the blanket into his inventory. Standing by the side, he awaited the guide's verification of her item.
Delicately, the woman removed the cap covering the jar. A thick aroma assailed her nose, causing a momentary light-headedness. Holy shit! This stuff is even better than the highest grade in town. Does he realize the value of this thing?
A shadow loomed over the woman, and Scott's voice resonated in her ears. “I can see you approve of the exchange. However, there’s no denying that I overpaid for your coat.”
The anxious guide turned her head, swallowing a mouthful of saliva. While Scott hadn't said anything wrong, she couldn't anticipate his next move. “Um, I guess you need something else, right?”
Scott smiled behind his mask, nodding. “Yeah. But don't worry; it's nothing outrageous. I just need information. Can you provide that?”
“Y-Yeah, I can. What do you need to know?” she asked without hesitation.
Scott, leaning against a rock, expressed his curiosity, “I've been away from Nova Primus for a couple of years now. I'd like to know everything I've missed. If possible, start from the very beginning.”
Meanwhile, back at the dock, another trio approached Cassius, Frank, and Lyra. The man leading the party smiled, extending his hand toward Lyra. “Welcome back. I hope you had a pleasant trip.”
Lyra, wearing a rare smile, locked hands with the man. “It was nothing special. Have the others returned?”
The muscular man shook his head as he sighed, “Not yet. They're still within schedule, though, so there's no need to worry about them.” A sly smile parted his lips as he leaned in closer. “Were you able to get them?”
Lyra, Cassius, and Frank smiled as they opened their inventory, revealing a small pile of bleeding organs.
“This is great. You guys had quite the harvest.”
Cassius interjected, “Two are missing, though. The boatman asked for them as toll.”
The smiling man frowned. “That’s a shame, but we're lucky he didn't ask for more. Two missing won't change that much.” He waved his hand, and the items disappeared into his inventory. “It was nice doing business with you guys. I'll be seeing you around.”
“Henry, wait a moment,” Lyra called out.
The blonde man turned toward her. “What is it? Do you have something else to sell?”
“No, not that. Have you found any clues about that traitor’s whereabouts?” Lyra asked.
Henry’s visage and that of his companions darkened. “We haven’t found him yet. Did you find any clues?”
Although the mild-mannered man spoke in a cool voice, he couldn’t hide the bloodlust in his eyes. Cassius and Frank shared a glance, but they didn’t interrupt the assassin.
Lyra folded her hands across her chest as she continued. “I can’t say whether or not my information is correct, but we did encounter someone with quite a peculiar mask….”
“Tell me where that person is!” Henry demanded, reaching for the assassin’s arm. However, Lyra skillfully evaded his reach, glaring at the agitated man. “Calm down. You’ll lose those hands if you dare try that again.”
Henry’s companions unsheathed their sword. “How dare you!”
Cassius took a step forward, brass knuckles covering his fingers. Lyra retrieved two daggers, her cold eyes meeting those of the swordsmen.
“Let’s calm down everyone,” Henry said with a smile. “We are all friends here. There’s no need to resort to violence.” He beckoned toward his men, and they reluctantly lowered their weapons. Then, he focused on the other group. “I apologize for my actions, Lyra. Don’t be offended. We’re good now, right?”
Lyra signaled toward Cassius, and the fighter backed down. She also sheathed her daggers, but her brows remained furrowed. “I was going to give you the information on the house, but now you’re going to have to pay double the price.”
“How dare you!” one swordsman roared; however, he fell silent as soon as he met Henry’s bloodshot eyes.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Now, it’s three times the price,” Lyra smirked, snickering at the enraged swordsmen. “C’mon, I dare any of you assholes to speak up.”
However, they knew better than to provoke the assassin any further.
“I will send the payment through the usual means,” Henry said, his voice filled with killing intent. He took a step forward. “Now, tell me where that bastard is. Just so you know, I won’t let this slide if this was all a joke.”
Frank instinctively took a step back. Henry’s eyes mirrored those of a wild beast ready to pounce on its prey. Even Cassius frowned, studying the man intently. Only Lyra remained unfazed by the man’s intense glare.
“If he’s your target, then I’ll need an additional thirty percent of the reward,” she declared, nonchalantly stretching her arms. Pointing towards a specific section of the beach, she added, “I saw him strolling in that direction with a guide earlier. If you're fortunate, he might still be there. Best of luck.”
The assassin turned to her companions. “Let's go. Our business here is done.”
Henry and the swordsmen observed in silence as the trio departed.
“Sir, you shouldn't have accepted her proposal. She was obviously taking advantage of our situation,” the older swordsman admonished.
“It doesn't matter. Whatever we're giving them is peanuts compared to the rewards of finding that traitor,” Henry replied, his voice low. “Let's go search for that bastard. We must find him before he gets to the city.”
The trio sprinted toward the shore without hesitation. At that very moment, a smiling lady emerged from behind a rock.
“Hello there,” Henry greeted, pointing at the guide. “Come here for a second.”
The swordsmen flanked her from both sides, escorting the frightened woman toward the charismatic man.
“What's your name?” Henry inquired, tilting his head to the side.
“I-It's Anika, sir.” The scared guide turned her head nervously, though most guides in the area noticed her plight, they simply averted their gaze.
Henry extended his hand, his fingers gently tracing the contours of the anxious woman's cheeks. “There's no need to be scared. I'm a gentleman, and I have absolutely no intention of causing you harm. We were merely wondering if you could help us by answering a few questions. Can you do that?” His grip on the soft chin of the young lady tightened slightly.
Anika nodded, determined to hold back her tears.
“That's a good girl,” Henry said, lowering his hand. “Have you, by any chance, encountered someone wearing a mask?”
Anika's eyes quivered, haunted by the memory of the man who had bestowed upon her the most significant reward since she became a guide.
“Hmm, your eyes tell me all I need to know,” Henry muttered, exchanging a glance with his men. “Now, would you kindly share with us where he went?”
Anika pointed confidently toward a path. “He went that way,” she declared.
Henry and the swordsmen eagerly followed her gaze, excitement flickering in their eyes. Henry locked eyes with the guide. “Anika, I trust you're not leading us astray.”
“I wouldn't dare to. He truly went that way. I have no reason to deceive you,” she replied nervously.
“Good. We're not people you should mess around with, so I hope your information is accurate.” Henry reassuringly patted Anika on the shoulder, then signaled to his men. The duo sprinted toward the path, leaving Henry to flash a brief smile at the anxious woman. “I hope we won't be crossing paths again anytime soon,” he quipped before joining his men.
Anika fell on her knees, panting as she struggled to breathe. What the hell was that all about? Why are weird people approaching me today? She took deep breaths, struggling to regain her composure. Who knows if those guys will keep their promise. I can’t stick around to find out.
The guide forced herself to her feet, charging toward another mountain path.
Scott pressed on, confronting the biting cold that clung to him like an icy shroud. The arrowhead's guidance led him knee-deep through the snow-covered path, the relentless wind slashing against his form, finding vulnerabilities in the thick layers of fur coats and boots. Nature itself seemed to protest his intrusion, the winds echoing a symphony of displeasure from every direction.
Undeterred by the frigid onslaught, he pressed forward, determined to decipher the mysteries that lay ahead. The treacherous path unveiled itself beneath each step, a white labyrinth challenging his every move.
Amidst the relentless howls of the tempest, muffled shouts reached Scott's ears, causing him to halt abruptly. The ethereal whispers of another's voice seemed to dance on the fringes of the wind's fury. Frowning, he strained his eyes against the white expanse, but nothing revealed itself in the snowy abyss. Was it a mere trick played by the wind, a manifestation of the mountain's discontent?
A moment of contemplation swept over Scott as he questioned the origin of the voices. However, the shouts persisted, growing louder with an insistence that defied the natural chaos around him. Intrigued and slightly unnerved, he pivoted on his heels, searching for the elusive source of these cries amidst the relentless snowstorm.
To his surprise, three figures clad in pristine, snow-white armor emerged from the swirling snow, hastening towards him. Each of them wielded gleaming swords, and there was an unmistakable air of hostility etched onto their faces, particularly the towering figure at the forefront.
Scott's brow furrowed. Who the hell are these people?
No words were necessary to convey that the trio was pursuing him; there was no one else in sight along the path. He locked eyes with the three men, his gaze lingering on the imposing figure in the center. He perused through the array of flashing messages, but he narrowed his eyes as soon as he noticed a particular message.
Armor Description: Armor specially designed for use in snowy mountain environments. It is crafted from a combination of fur, leather, and interlocking metal plates that provide excellent protection against physical attacks and the harsh elements. Rank: Rare. Condition: Armor is bound to its owner (conditioned to self-destruct upon the owner’s death). Damage Reduction: 15% Type: Plate Armor. Durability: ???/???
Special Abilities
+5 to Defense: The armor provides additional protection to the wearer, making it harder for enemies to hit. Resistant to cold damage: The armor has been treated with a special material that makes it more resistant to cold damage, reducing any incoming damage by 25%. Slightly increases movement speed: The armor is surprisingly lightweight for its level of protection, granting the wearer a slight increase in movement speed.
Longsword Description: Long sword crafted with a razor-sharp blade and a polished hilt. The blade is made of high-quality steel and has a tapered edge that allows for precise cuts and thrusts. Rank: Rare. Damage: ??? Condition: Item is bound to its owner (conditioned to self-destruct upon the owner’s death). Type: One-Handed Long Sword Durability: ???
Special Abilities
+10 to Attack: The sword provides additional attack power to the wielder, making it easier to deal damage to enemies. Chance to stun: The sword has a chance to stun enemies for a short duration with each successful hit. Increases critical hit rate: The sword increases the wielder's chance of landing critical hits, which deal extra damage.
Quests Main Quest: Return to the starting Point – Ongoing! Side Quest: Retrieve the kleploid sacs – Completed! Side Quest: Find the traitor – Ongoing! Side Quest: Find the Ayan Ore – Ongoing! Side Quest: Find the Spear of the swift Hunter – Ongoing!
Scott blinked several times, his mouth agape behind the mask. Whoa, where did he get those items? Uncommon gear had been the pinnacle of quality he'd encountered until now. He had merely skimmed through the stats of the other men; their gear paled in comparison to their leader.
The trio halted a few feet from Scott, their eyes darting between his empty hands and the foreboding mask covering his face. An unsettling shiver crawled down their spines the longer they gazed into his eyes. Despite the eerie chill, the trio remained confident. They believed they had finally located their target.
Henry plunged his longsword into the snow. “Luthor, remove that mask while I'm still asking nicely.”
Scott extended his right hand toward the group. “You've got the wrong guy. Farewell.”
An ethereal mist of energy coalesced in Scott's hand, concealed from the swordsmen's view. However, a faint outline of a whirlpool materialized behind the half-human, sending a ripple of unease through the trio.
Ability: Frost Nova activated! Mana Points have decreased by 10!
A bone-chilling energy wave, amplified by the surrounding cold, swept across a hundred meters, sealing everything in its path in a relentless grip of ice. As the snow gale subsided, a ghastly sight awaited—the swordsmen stood frozen, from their necks to their boots. Then footsteps filled their ears, and their faces contorted in horror as Scott approached.
“W-Wait a moment, we made a mistake. You’re not the person we’re looking for,” Henry pleaded, his teeth clattering as he struggled to speak. Panic raced through his mind. What's a mage doing here? This is bad. I need to buy enough time for my armor to dispel the ice. A minute should be more than enough.
Scott halted a mere foot away from the icy statues, his gaze fixed on his outstretched hand. Magic had always fascinated him, but the sheer potency of Frost Nova in the biting cold surpassed his expectations. The frozen men were on the brink of death, a consequence he hadn't fully anticipated.
The revelation of his newfound power brought a mixture of awe and concern. Scott couldn't help but marvel at the incredible impact, yet a sense of responsibility lingered. This was more than a demonstration of magic; it was a display of potential danger.
Scott redirected his focus to the trio, and his twin blades materialized in his hands. Simultaneously, his mask contorted unnaturally, a reddish blur slithering across its surface. Why does the mask suddenly feel heavier?
The eldritch knight advanced, yet the weight of the mask intensified with every step.
Scott was left bewildered. What on earth was happening? He thought, halting his steps.
Suddenly, a blackened handle erupted from the mask, forcing Scott onto his knees. Meanwhile, the onlookers, horrified and still immobile, could only gaze in stunned silence.
Driven by instinct, Scott extended his hand towards the handle, and a system message materialized before him.
Warning! Warning! Warning!
Warhammer of the Mad God Description: The Warhammer of the Mad God is a dark and eerie weapon, steeped in mystery and legend. It is said that the hammer was crafted by a madman, driven to insanity by the voices in his head. The hammer's twisted design reflects the madness of its creator, and its power is said to be fueled by the unholy whispers that still echo within its metal. Rank: ??? Condition: ??? Damage: ??? Special Properties: ??? Owner: ??? Type: ??? Condition: ???
Warning! Your Madness stat is being devoured by the Warhammer of the Mad God!
Scott unleashed a soul-churning scream as he yanked at the blackened handle, freeing the weapon from the mask. A ghostly mist enveloped the weapon, as if proclaiming that mere mortals weren't worthy to behold its true form.
“Lyra, you set me up!” Henry bellowed, still immobilized despite cracks spider-webbing across the ice cage.
Scott rose, his gloomy eyes fixated on the restrained men.
“P-Please wait. I can…” The blunt end of the warhammer crashed onto Henry’s head, bursting it open like an overripe watermelon. Blood, bones, and brain matter sprayed into the air, forming a grotesque pattern as it stained the surrounding ice.
Scott flicked his wrist, sending the opposite end of the weapon toward the man positioned to Henry's left. A deafening bang reverberated, and the man's skull fragmented into a thousand pieces. The last swordsman snapped out of his daze, meeting Scott's frenzied gaze. He screamed with all his might, but the relentless winds seemed to taunt him. Scott swung the hammer once more, silencing the man's cries as fresh blood stained the snow around them. The yellow sign flickered, and a hand emerged from the mask, wresting the weapon from Scott's grip, and whisking it into the shadows.
Scott's clouded eyes cleared, and without hesitation, he activated quickstep, sprinting away with urgency. On his tenth stride, a thunderous explosion engulfed the frozen corpses. The shockwave sent the sprinting half-human tumbling through the snow.
You have slain three human champions! EXP: 200! Your madness stat has dropped by 1! ??? Has been updated! There’s currently no chance of your body being ??? by ???
Scott lay on his back, staring at the dull clouds above. “That was fucking amazing.”