Carl's health had run out in the middle of the grand staircase.
The familiar, dreadful darkness assailed his senses once again, threatening to devour them all. Although he drank a good stamina potion, he still felt powerless. Fortunately, it was just enough to keep going.
To better focus and to distract his tormented mind, he contacted Amaranthine Bushido.
“Brother Lionheart! You're alive!”
“Calm down, Bushido, I'm fine. Tell everyone not to worry.”
“You don't sound fine!”
“Relax. I'm in the temple.”
“But … your avatar … can it even be healed without dying at this point? Everyone's panicking already …”
“It can. I'll be right there to resume the conquests. Tell them.”
“Really?! Wait … we don't have the money! There's only the 45 gold that you requested in your account!”
“Oh well, I might as well let you in on this secret now, as it won't be a secret much longer. I pay 45 gold for Beatific Restoration.”
“Whaaat?!”
“Listen up, Bushido, we need to act fast. The Necklace of Preservation, where did you get it and how many are available?”
“Aaa- Mhh. Yes, I bought the sole exhibit in the House of Wonders, the luxury shop next to the Expedition Association. Every large city has one, or something similar, but the merchandise they sell varies. Still, there should be hundreds of them all over the world, as hardly anyone can afford them, save for the upper echelon of super-guilds. Are you … planning to stockpile them?”
“We have to. At 200 gold they're massively undervalued, and will soon skyrocket like the scrolls. What's the current cost of capital among players and NPCs?”
“Oh boy! Brother Lionheart! Haha, is there even something you're not proficient in?! This is pure brilliance!”
“Mhm, keep talking, I have to chat up a priest over here.”
“Right. The rates among players are going up drastically, as inflation is imminent with all the gold-farming bonanza on the horizon. At the moment they're hovering around 8-9% daily, and only because the black market seems to have stabilized its gold price at 100$, with new companies recently jumping on the bandwagon of Immortal Frontier. NPC banks, on the other hand, lend money at 2-3% a day, but they require collateral of at least 200% the loan value. They're basically pawn shops, so calculating their return on investment is complicated, but it's bound to be comparable to ours. What do you think Brother Lionheart, is this sufficiently cheap?”
“Dirt cheap. 200% collateral, however, is no good. It would only double our capital.”
“True. I'm assuming you want to borrow from the players and use the necklaces as bonds?”
“Yes, you would have to deposit them all in an escrow account and sign the appropriate guarantees.”
“Of course. But you're aware, Brother Lionheart, that this would prompt everyone to compete with us, greatly limiting our options?”
“I am, that's why I wonder – are there investment funds or bankers among the NPCs?”
“Both, and there's also speculating merchants, but they're all vicious. You should expect them to retain 80-90% of the profits, and more likely the latter, leaving you with 10%. Besides, we don't have the sway to influence their purchases … wait … maybe with your rep they'd agree! Wow, if we could buy out all the necklaces in the world! Imagine that!”
“… Did you just say 10%?”
“Yes. I know it stings, but it's still a gigantic business opportunity. We're talking five digits, quite possibly!”
“Nobody's going to steal from me like that, not even NPCs. I'll seek out a couple individuals, then I'll inform you. Over and out.”
Unable to lift his leg, Carl dove headfirst into the sacramental font, and was instantly taken from hell to heaven.
What a fight that was!
He never dreamed he would one day enjoy pvp this much. He totally felt like he was in his element, his spirit burning like a bonfire. And the mental oppression he generated! He wasn't a wolf any more – he was a lion among sheep! Did he miss his calling?
He could not appreciate it before, but now he did so fully. Those PKers were the cream of the crop, he had no doubts about that. He was also certain of their equipment quality – although it would be difficult to judge one example, ten of them painted a distinct picture of high-level, complete fine-quality getups with superior-quality weapons, logically indicating the system shop. They were indeed far ahead of Europe with regards to conquering dungeons. And they didn't lack gold for skills and support tools, either. Maybe they were even prepared to escape through the teleportation terminal, since it surely couldn't be turned off on a whim.
Alas, they picked the wrong guy to mess with.
This failure would probably set them back several thousand gold …
How appropriate.
Carl grinned from ear to ear.
Their catastrophe was his prosperity!
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He just hooked a fat tuna, and now had to reel it in. It was going to be hard work, but the payout could potentially secure his finances once and for all. He could then finally do what his heart desired – go on adventures, explore, face the unknown, and ultimately challenge his limits!
He could also catch a breather at last and ameliorate his agility at the Colosseum.
“Hey, I haven't checked my stats in ages. Let's see if my willpower budged. System, show me my attribute panel.”
Charles Lionheart, human, male:
Health: 142 (0/s)
Mana: 202 (5.3/s)
Strength: 10.4
Vitality: 14.2
Agility: 6.4
Intelligence: 20.2
Willpower: 26.5
Perception: 20.6
Carl balked, his jaw dropping comically. Luckily he was still in the aisle, away from gawkers.
“Wow!”
How did this happen?! Oh, how amateurish of him not to keep tabs on the progress! He became so attuned to this new reality, that he didn't need crutches like hard numbers to gauge his health, stamina, mana and focus. He even preferred to do everything by feel, thus sharpening his senses.
“It has to be Beatific Restoration … awesome!”
This was the only reasonable explanation – the inherent recuperation of the restoring service acted to solidify his temporary gains and add them to his foundations, akin to full rest between gym sessions. Meanwhile, he was constantly training his stamina like crazy, juicing non-stop and stuffing himself with quality food on top of that.
It was the same with perception, which was responsible for regenerating focus, a mental equivalent of stamina, different from concentration, which was an aggregate term used in reference to the combined focus and mana drain during arcane exertion. Here the increase wasn't as pronounced, but still it was about a third of the one for vitality, and Carl readily understood why – because unlike the way food and beverages did it for stamina, mana potions didn't augment the innate recovery rate of focus, only refunded it directly, without involving biological processes, thus they didn't contribute to training. The jump from 20 to 20.6 perception must have mostly been from the background focus utilization facilitated by the round-the-clock engagement of mana regeneration.
“Huh, that begs the question – where's the threshold? After all, spending 5.3 mana per second isn't enough to exhaust my focus, though it should be on the verge I guess … anyway, that's not important. My willpower shot to 26.5, and it's got to be Unyielding Will's doing. Now I know! There's no rush any more, but I absolutely need to attain more honors before the tutorial ends and bring the costs of Beatific Restoration down, because gold will become ten times more expensive in the full version.”
The plan for this impending juncture was self-evident – adjust strength and agility to 20, while lowering vitality and willpower to 5. In no time at all would all his attributes exceed 20! Just how powerful would he then become?
He jumped for joy, unable to contain himself.
His only regret was the unavailability of the Focused perk for humans, which required 25 perception and was a big reason for the reign of elven mages – despite a plain name, it was a marvelous proficiency, doubling focus regeneration. As soon as he equipped some items further boosting his mana regeneration, his focus would likely fall behind, and he didn't hear anything about food and beverages for the mind that could bridge this gap.
“Oh well, one step at a time. Let's go back to the dungeon before the guys conquer it.”
Exiting the sacristy in pristine condition, Carl was welcomed by an astounded mob. He provisionally wiped the smirk off his face and confronted them with poise to discourage them from bothering him. He only sighed internally, imagining what kind of storm would this revelation unleash …
“Lord Lionheart!” someone shouted with clout. It was the guard captain from before. He made his way through the crowd, straightened up respectfully, and presented a half-full, ordinarily-looking bag. “We have verified the witnesses' testimonies and found the perpetrators guilty of your attempted murder. We have also discovered outstanding warrants for all of them. Not to worry, they shall not escape punishment! We will hold them extra long for this repeated offense, and we have marked their souls if they decide to abandon their current bodies, which will allow us to track them wherever they flee and relay their markers to the local authorities. Here, this bag contains their spoils, which by law belong to their vanquisher, that is to you, Lord Lionheart.”
“So that's how it works?” Carl realized. “Thank you, Captain. As you were. Hmm?” Taking a step, he noticed something lingered on the man's mind. “Is there more?”
“There is, Lord Lionheart. We, that is the Armed Command of Geneva, recognize your services to our city and salute you. We would like to extend an invitation to you, in hopes of future cooperation. What we can offer today, is the license of a Bounty Hunter, granting you access to all local markers. Would you be interested?”
“Oh? That sounds fun. Sign me up.”
“Very well. We will complete the formalities and bring you the badge and the locator within an hour, if you're still here.”
The spectators were stupefied once more. A third title …
Although it wasn't as difficult to obtain as the two Carl had, being a regular steel badge, bounty hunting was presently the rave among players, and a subject of large-scale collusion – those who had nothing to lose would intentionally become outlaws for hire, letting whoever hired them to capture them and cash in for money and reputation. Afterwards, they would reset their accounts, thus adding to their stigma by evading arrest, then rinse and repeat until they accrued a soul banishment through recidivism, automatically locking them in purgatory upon creating a new character, where they would have to log hours and do menial tasks to get out, costing them precious time, which didn't even count towards erasing the whopping stigma.
It was lucrative business for those who didn't mind ruining their career in Immortal Frontier – and even more so for those who were preparing to cross to the dark side in the full version – while the bounty hunters themselves earned an enviable income and gained valuable privileges, like entry to some restricted areas, which housed, among others, specialist shops with premium, high-level wares.
Normally, however, one had to apply for a license and pay a hefty administration fee of 10 gold, plus another 40 for a locator, a pocket magical device akin to a proximity detector, which was merely optional, yet extremely useful. And Carl received it all for free … more than that – the NPCs practically requested his help!
We salute you? We hope for future cooperation? What would that even entail?!
Leaving the half-speechless, half-agitated mob, Carl rushed to the Expedition Association, where he again caused an uproar. Numb to it already, and quite vexed by it to be frank, he peeked into the bag before handing it over to the cheerful Amaranthine Bushido.
“A peak grade 0 Scroll of Isolation … hides arcane signatures … hmm, are soul markers arcane or spiritual? Maybe the ones set by the guards on dead outlaws are arcane body markers, and those set in the temple are spiritual soul markers? This would mean they had the first kind. Either way, neat trick. Wait a second … why did I sense this weird aura around them? Was it … perhaps … my Heroic Spirit?!”