“See? I told you they went with him!”

“Oh boy …”

Carl's expectations got wholly exceeded once more.

“Do you lot have nothing better to do than spy on others?” a mighty, righteous voice resounded throughout the hushed, expectant portico.

He was a patient and understanding person, but this was too much. Hundreds of players huddled together around portal number one, so tightly there was hardly any room to breathe. How long had they been waiting there, just to see him return?

The atmosphere instantly turned stifling. Those up front shrunk back, faced with this blood-soaked monster.

“Our apologies, brother Lionheart … we didn't know it was you!”

“Is that so? And what did he just say?”

Some people panicked, baffled by how inopportunely this situation unfolded.

“… He's not with us! We didn't know, I swear!”

“We didn't know, either!”

“What's this about, then?” Carl demanded gallantly.

“These NPCs … I mean these locals! We only came to investigate them!”

Carl swiftly came to a realization.

“Oh? So those of you that did know it was me, have you perhaps come to poach my wards?”

Another dreadful juncture ensued after this indirect accusation.

“Brother Lionheart, you jest!” A remarkably well-equipped stalwart axeman laughed loudly and cordially, effortlessly stepping through the crowd, which behaved like billowing water flowing around an unstoppable cargo ship. “I am Radiant Bulwark, and I represent your namesake, the Skyborne Lions guild!”

Suddenly mustering the courage, many more agents and delegates hurriedly moved forward with their own introductions, creating an unpleasant discord. All of them, however, quieted as soon as Carl raised his hand.

“I am not looking to join anyone. If you want to do serious business with me, I'll be happy to. But I will not take kindly to being perceived as a gold mine. Those who treat me as such, I will treat as my mortal enemies!”

The emphatic proclamation carried such weight, that everyone felt subdued, as if the air pressure just surged and gravity built up.

“Fret not, brother Lionheart.” Radiant Bulwark chuckled agreeably in the stillness, as if it had no effect on him. “I share your sentiments!”

“Good,” Carl acknowledged explicitly. He then turned to his four supporters.

“You guys are free to follow anyone you want. But let me warn you – be very careful around them, or you might fall for their tricks. Especially mind what you say to them, as they will do what they can to pry my secrets from you. At least make them pay dearly for it.”

“Yes, Master Lionheart!”

The mob gaped. The blatant admonition of their nefarious intent was one thing, but … Master? Weren't henchmen only supposed to use the 'Sir', 'Madam', and 'immortal' pronouns? Didn't this indicate a sign of either recognition or a different kind of employment relationship? If it was so, then was Carl a master of some arts, or were these NPCs really his subordinates? Carl did refer to them strangely as his 'wards', didn't he?

Funnily enough, the poor souls didn't consider a third option – that it could be both!

“Alright, let's cash in,” Carl instructed. “And any of you, who are yet adamant in claiming merit to your proposals, may step forward so we can talk.”

While Radiant Bulwark resolutely volunteered, accompanied by a small entourage of two, everybody else broke into whispered conversations.

“This guy is so full of himself!”

“Why does he play a money game with this attitude? There's plenty of RPGs for people like him.”

“Well, he has the right to, no?”

“I don't like him anyway. Who does he think he is?”

“Should we still approach him?”

“Pfft, do we even want this buffoon in Blood Brothers?”

“You heard that, Highlanders? A chance!”

“Nah, it might be more trouble than it's worth.”

“Yeah, and we can't contend with Skyborne Lions anyway.”

“This is above our pay grade. Let's go.”

This time, Carl was altogether unsurprised by the development. It was already gratifying that one with honest motives appeared.

“And the true faces are revealed …”

Since Carl blocked all friend requests right after the commotion he caused with Fleeting Time's team and set his message box to private, he now loosened the conditions to allow face-to-face requests and proxy messaging. But as he was rummaging in the settings …

“What?!”

“Is everything fine, brother Lionheart?” Radiant Bulwark inquired, noticing the recoil.

“It's nothing.” Carl laughed helplessly. “I should know better than be shocked by the audacity of social media users.”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

“Did you just check your friend requests?” The illustrious axeman shook with a chortle, resting his hands on his hips, greatly amused. “It's no wonder, really. I have to admit that you pulled quite the number on us all. Big guilds like our own send their elite parties armed with excellent equipment and knowledge to tackle the horrid wolf, often suffering miserable defeat, yet here you are, a lone mysterious expert, taking it down with starting gear on your first day in the game. And looking at you now, it seems that dire wolf prowler with its cohort was but a walk in the park, quite literally. We can only hang our heads in shame!” he self-abased in a sportsmanlike manner.

Carl didn't dispute the controversy. He fully understood he had won the lottery with his evolved kill. He never would have succeeded, if it wasn't for a whole set of fortunate circumstances. It was comparable to slaying a lion barehanded – possible, but only by a miraculous stroke of luck. The dire wolf prowler, on the other hand, was ten times as inferior, while Carl had an awesome new weapon, good armor, and a bite sleeve.

“This number, though … 2 million? I know I may be mistakenly regarded as one of the strongest players in the game at this point, but what is wrong with these people?! Are they this desperate nowadays? Is the world really this hopeless? 2 million?! How many of those are actual business offers, one in a thousand? Less? I should probably check the forum to see what nonsense they're writing, but … maybe it would be better if I didn't …”

Carl sighed deeply.

“It won't work if I say it was a fluke, will it?”

“Hahahaha! I like your sense of humor, brother Lionheart!” Radiant Bulwark patted him affectionately.

“Oh well. It was nice meeting you … Vice Guild Leader Bulwark?” Carl hesitated, seeing the official tag in his friend list and wondering how big was Skyborne Lions.

“More of an honorary title, really.” The man waved his hand in dismissal. “I'm a combatant, not a manager. That's what I have these two for.” He gestured to his two colleagues – Weaving Fate, a bespectacled elven enchantress of some sort, judging by her ornate robes with complex geometrical patterns and the gilded arcane staff she wielded, and Amaranthine Bushido, an agility-type, eastern-style swordsman with a peculiar air about him. “And why are you using past tense? Didn't you say we can talk?” he expressed his disappointment.

“No disrespect, but … it's past noon, and I haven't slept yet.”

The stout warrior burst out with laughter once more.

“Enjoying Immortal Frontier, aren't you?”

“A bit too much, yeah,” Carl confessed sheepishly.

“How about that? I'll get my men to book you a premium resting spot at the arena, while we take to the sands and have a chat in the meantime! What do you think?”

Carl shrugged.

“I guess it won't kill me if I spare another half an hour.”

“That's the spirit! Fate?”

“On it, boss.”

Wrapping things up with the NPCs, Carl followed Radiant Bulwark and his aides to the Colosseum.

“Are you thinking of taking a shower, brother Lionheart?” the man asked, aware of Carl's glances toward the besieged booths.

“Actually … I don't really mind it any more. Do you?”

“Haha, I don't, either! Such a bother, isn't it? Might as well show everyone how hard you work!”

Stepping into the arena, Carl was immediately thwarted by its splendor. It was like an instanced dungeon, because only this way could everyone fit inside – a feature exclusive to the tutorial, as there was supposed to be no more instanced dungeons in the full version. Absent audience, it was eerily quiet, too. The only people present were a bunch of elite Skyborne Lions members that arrived with their vice guild leader, likely the team that he led in battle.

“Hmm? Your first time here?”

“Mhm. I was on my way here when I took a detour to the Expedition Association.”

“Served you quite well.” Radiant Bulwark smiled. “Now that we're here, let's talk!”

Standing in the middle of the ancient battlefield, the warrior energetically pulled out the giant axe he held on his back and took a stance, radiating battle zeal.

“Oh … that's the kind of chat you had in mind.” Carl deflated.

“Haha, we can always discuss business remotely, but this is an opportunity I will not waste! After coming all this way, I want to at least test your skills in person!”

“Are you serious?” Carl, exasperated, looked at the nearby players for answers. “What am I supposed to do against that axe?”

The only thing he saw, however, were mute faces, visibly reluctant to speak out.

“There's no penalties here, you can fight to your lion's heart's content! Come at me!”

“But I have no experience in pvp …”

“You have nothing to worry about! With how realistic this game is, your real-life training takes precedence,” the battle maniac insisted fervently, wholly unaware of whom he was dealing with.

“But that's not my style … I'm used to having healers keep me alive, so I don't care about defense …”

“This is a duel, brother Lionheart, and your style is perfectly suited for opponents like me, just as it's perfect for taking down bosses,” Radiant Bulwark observed. “Now come!”

Carl shook his head.

“I won't even be able to close in on you … I have 5 agility!”

“Huh?! Aren't you an assassin?” The man straightened up, losing his focused composure.

“No … I'm a knight … but for now I invested in magic.”

Everyone was suddenly flabbergasted.

“So even your strength and vitality … ?”

“Ten and ten,” Carl admitted candidly.

“But … you killed an evolved beast.” Radiant Bulwark desperately tried once more.

“I did. But that was a dull animal in a tutorial dungeon.”

“Still, everyone struggles with it … you used starter gear …”

“I don't feel comfortable harming people! Why are you so adamant about fighting me? Do you want to slaughter me like a lamb? Establish dominance? What is it?”

“Oh … I did not think of that …” Radiant Bulwark breathed out heavily, dispirited by Carl's abrupt outburst. “My apologies. I shouldn't have come out so … forceful. I didn't think this through,” he resigned, evidently saddened. “I just … wanted to see what you're made of … no, that's not it … I already know that. I only wanted … to feel it for myself. That incredible intensity of yours.” He looked at Carl remorsefully.

“What is he talking about?”

Carl remembered his first fight with the lion. He remembered the suffocating darkness engulfing him, the crushing weight of terror, and why he set out to defy it. He then remembered their last fight, and finally the fateful encounter with the horrid monstrosity. He remembered the power that welled within him to combat the oppression until it got extinguished – until only this unshakable spiritual invincibility remained.

But he didn't remember the feeling itself. It was too ephemeral, too evanescent. He so wanted to experience it once more … over and over … permanently and forever. He lifted his head and gazed at his challenger.

“Do you want to face death without fear?”

Radiant Bulwark jolted, as those fiery eyes peered into his own.

“I do.”

Carl's hands found both daggers and grabbed them tightly. “Very well.”