Carl got up at 9, as it was bright outside. Though his wrecked body wanted more, 6 hours would have to suffice. He stretched, ate while bathing in delightfully freezing water, prepared snacks for later, and jumped back into Immortal Frontier. It was time for the real deal!

Everyone else was already hard at work. Weaving Fate briefed him while he run to the City Hall, revealing with awkward amusement, that his stunt had turned Geneva upside down. Guilds and individual players were flooding in from the surrounding lands, ignorant of the fact that more competition served them no good. It resulted most prominently in high demand for NPC henchmen, as every large organization dreamed of gaining access to the two magnificent portals found in each chief expedition coordinator's office.

“Why don't they pursue reputation in their home cities instead?”

“Haha, tell that to them, brother Lionheart! Because of them, practically all the henchmen here have been hired already, and the adventuring natives receive triple or even quadruple the offers. It's really hectic!”

“Well, it's not like it has any effect on me, so I'm actually happy about that. Blood Brothers will now reap what they sowed.”

“Mhm. Just remember that many of them are here for you. They're likely on your tail already.”

“Yep. They sure are.”

Carl learned Eagle Eye just for this, and it was proving very useful, as he could apply it while running, and do it covertly to boot. The various information networks were incredibly vast to have picked him up so quickly after logging back in. There was likely more than ten different groups tracking him by the time he got to the City Hall.

“Hello.” Carl waved genially at the specky clerk once more. “Same as usual.”

“Oh … hello … Lord Lionheart,” the receptionist greeted back, astounded and perplexed. It had barely been a day! “Please, follow me.”

Carl ignored the queued players who were eyeing him like wolves. He didn't lower his voice at all, because there was no point hiding it – soon, he would be wearing two badges on his chest.

“Lord Lionheart, welcome back. Who would have thought you'd be visiting us so soon?”

“Good morning, Chief Veritus. I'll have to trouble you to add another title to my announcement. Maybe this will do the trick?” Carl smiled courteously.

“Haha! Ekhem … my apologies. Of course, Lord Lionheart. Please, the Magistrate is awaiting you.”

“Oh?”

Upon entering the beautifully illuminated office, Carl found the old man standing in the same spot and pose he had left him in. I felt eerie and comical at the same time.

Since the judge didn't come out with the initiative to speak, Carl wouldn't, either – after approaching and standing right in front of the tall powerhouse, he mirrored the dignified poise with hands behind his back, and peered into the NPCs eyes …

… for a good while.

“What is that, a staring contest?”

But he reached his goal eventually – the magistrate moved first, bringing his hand forward and presenting a silvery badge in his palm, in contrast to the bronze Beast Slayer one. Carl resolutely took it and pinned above its neighbor.

[Ghost Buster Insignia] (badge, bound)

Proof of title. When worn, it will be recognized by competent inhabitants of Celestia.

Carl glanced up and smiled almost imperceptibly. This would have to suffice for gratitude. At least this time there was no trembling of mana. He then departed.

“What are you planning, immortal?”

Carl stopped midway. The gamble had worked out! He pondered for a few seconds, then looked over his shoulder.

“How can I plan if I hold no power over fate? No, I only aim. And what comes out of it – we'll have to wait and see.”

Double or nothing!

After saying his piece, Carl went ahead and reached for the door …

“Tell me, then. I'd like to know what your goals are.”

Carl spun around with a face that was both amused and serious, but soon turned solemn.

“Glory. What I aim at – are the highest honors.”

And the staring contest continued …

“Nothing? Really?!”

“Until next time, then, Lord Lionheart.” Judge Demerius nodded with recognition.

Carl left the office somewhat disappointed, but there was no helping that. That particular NPC was hard to impress. He didn't want to fire random questions at him, because it just felt wrong, like there was no way it would have succeeded, and could have instead been counterproductive, ruining Carl's esteem. No, he would have to keep at it. Maybe he needed more reputation first?

“Chief Veritus?”

“Lord Lionheart, how many I help you?”

Carl chuckled politely.

“That's what I wanted to ask, actually. I understand you're besieged with rapidly arising headaches ever since we've descended upon this world, and now the influx of immortals into the city has surged drastically.”

“And whom should we thank for that, I wonder?” The Chief Deputy grinned equivocally.

“Oh … so you know …”

“Please, Lord Lionheart. This is our home! How could we not realize what's happening? Not to mention that Chief Ironhide is keeping a close eye on you. He's very much eager to talk to you, from what I gather.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Carl didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

“No wonder Albert is on edge.”

“I'm sorry for the trouble, then.”

“Haha! No trouble at all, Lord Lionheart!” Anselm insisted exuberantly. “Our people are finding well-paid work, and the casualties have gone down immensely. Thanks to you, your entire kind is now on their best behavior!”

“Heh, that's … good to hear. But I have to warn you that it's a false pretense. Don't get complacent, or they'll rob you blind.”

“Yes, we understand that perfectly. I appreciate your sentiment, and I'll gladly take this momentary respite you've so graciously granted us. Just keep doing what you're doing, and it'll be all the help we need.”

Carl was beside himself with joy. If only Blood Brothers knew what they had done – oh boy, would they die of regret!

Once he arrived back in the common area, the change in reception was blatantly palpable. For one, the amount of queued players had doubled, and Carl had to hold back a smirk, as half of them were obviously spies. The overall acting, however, was terrible – while some expressed genuine surprise, most failed to some degree. And although judging a singular performance could pose a challenge, having this many in such a cramped space painted a clear picture of artificiality.

Not bothering with the lot, Carl rushed to the Expedition Association. The Skyborne Lions were already waiting for him in the arena, but he was too curious to hear what Max wanted to discuss. Could it possibly be … ? No, not this fast! Or … ?

“Well, if it isn't my favorite Beast Slayer! Or should I now say Ghost Buster?”

The swashbuckler generously displayed his half-pearly, half-silvery teeth.

“Guess who brazenly came to demand a reward while you rested?”

In the corner of the main office, with a drooped noggin and slumped shoulders, stood a convict.

“Hello Bub.”

But the man didn't respond, merely grimaced at the floor.

“So the money you stole from me wasn't enough?”

“He has been drinking, Lord Lionheart. A lot. And not alone, either.”

Carl snorted and shook his head.

“So you think you've made new friends after you've abandoned your old ones? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot – you were never their friend,” he corrected himself. “But they were yours!” he burst out angrily, making the big man shrink back even further. He waited a moment, but Bub never lifted his eyes or spoke a word.

“What would you like me to do with him, Lord Lionheart?”

“Get him out of my sight. I want to throw up when I look at him.”

“Very well. While I do that, you may retrieve your reward. If I'm not back by the time you're done, please wait for me. It shouldn't take long.”

“Sure.”

Carl once more entered the splendorous rank 5 system shop. He first browsed the bite sleeves – only 4 were now available, which contradicted the general trend of wider variety. Apparently, each item had a different distribution among the ranks, depending on its purpose and demand. He then checked fist-load weapons, and here the selection was massive, but they all focused on doing damage instead of protection, so wouldn't be as useful to him.

“Jarring Fist could do some serious harm with these, but it'll have to wait. System, show me bracers.”

Immediately, something caught his attention.

“Whoa! System, why are these single?”

“They're archery bracers. While most come in pairs, some are indeed single.”

Now that he thought about it, there was also pauldrons that could only be equipped on one shoulder to suit a one-handed style. This was great news – single bracer meant double the material value!

Carl soon found exactly what he needed – a bulky bracer designed for heavy bows.

“Wow! Is this for a catapult or what?!”

While many archery bracers only protected the ventral side of the arm with only superficial cover for the dorsal side, this one was uniform.

[Resilient Arm] (fine quality, arm guard)

Materials: Gravidon leather, singing mist spider silk.

This protective gear was crafted by an apprentice master tailor.

Surface: Resilience is the name of the game – gravidon leather is both tough and flexible, allowing it to withstand endless punishment and abrasion, while maintaining pliability and comfort.

Fit: The interwoven singing mist spider silk threads contract under mana current, fitting the arm perfectly, and they can subsequently be fastened to remain in place until dismantling. While under tension, they serve to alter the surface, hardening it and redirecting the impact forces to spread over a larger area.

Warning! Excess mana application may lead to vasoconstriction and permanent tissue damage!

“What do you know? Gravidon leather for the win!”

Although not hardened, this was actually a plus, as it offered far better fit and range of motion. Meanwhile, the magic of it was quite neat, as it could be used in key moments to augment its defensive capabilities.

“Hey! Hey! Are you switching to archery now, Lord Lionheart?” Maxwell appeared let down.

“Does it have to be used with a bow?” Carl grinned.

“Haha! That's what I like to hear!”

“Did you want to talk with me?”

“Yes, I did. Very much so. I didn't sleep last night due to the storm you've caused. Haha! Don't give me that look, Lord Lionheart, I mean it as a good thing! All our adventurers thank the heavens for you now! Their wages have gone through the roof, while your kin is pampering them like their favorite pets and protecting like raw eggs. On the other hand, there's a small group of ardent amateurs who are even more blessed, and everyone is green from envying them. Not only do you do all the work for them, but you charitably lavish the fruits of your hard labor for their benefit as well. Truthfully, a few more days and we will have to seriously consider some reward for you, because– no-no! Please don't say a word! We can't just permit both your people and our own to perceive us as beggars. We're not that poor yet, I assure you!”

Carl had an ominous feeling. This … didn't seem right … as if … it had nothing to do with the two portals?

“Hmm? There's something you're not saying, Chief,” he noticed.

“Heh, nothing can escape your eye, can it?” the slightly abashed Maxwell praised. “Well, it's just that … and please don't take it the wrong way … I hoped you would shape these youths up. Physically and mentally. It's amazing that you lead them on glorious conquests, but you keep them sheltered at all times … it's just …”

“Didn't they boast about our future plans?”

The swashbuckler faltered.

“What plans?”

Carl smirked.

“Though they didn't know about my new title yet, some of them have already expressed their desire to join me on ghost hunts.”

Maxwell gaped.

“You're … not lying to me … are you, Lord Lionheart?”

“Gotcha!”