THE PRICE OF CONTROL
Isaac sat atop the roof of a watchtower ruin, one leg bent, the other stretched out, fingers idly rolling a gold coin between them.
Below him, the roads were different.
Not in their layout no. The paths, the intersections, the landmarks remained the same. But the flow of the world had shifted.
The merchants who used to travel freely now hesitated at every turn.
The messengers who once darted between cities now moved in nervous packs.
The once invisible courier routes were suddenly patrolled.
And at every checkpoint, every crossroad, every supply post..
The Iron Hounds were there.
Isaac flicked the coin into the air, caught it, and let out a slow exhale.
“So that’s your game huh?”
He had to admit. This was smart.
The Iron Hounds had done in two days what most guilds would have taken weeks to organize.
They didn’t waste energy chasing him anymore.
They had cut off his business.
And for the first time in a long time Isaac was surprised.
Not shocked. Not panicked.
Just… mildly impressed.
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THE WEIGHT OF GOLD
Money had never been Isaac’s primary motivation.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t love it.
It was useful. It made people talk. It solved problems before they became inconveniences.
And most importantly, he just really liked having it.
Even though he spent almost nothing, never upgraded his gear, never bought flashy weapons, never wasted coin on unnecessary luxuries, he enjoyed the feeling of gold piling up.
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But now?
His income was frozen.
His clients were blocked. His routes were compromised.
The Iron Hounds weren’t after his life anymore.
They were after his livelihood.
Isaac chuckled to himself, shaking his head.
“Alright Ironjaw.” He tilted his head toward the nearest checkpoint, where armored men stood watching the roads.
“You got my attention.”
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Isaac had been thinking about it for a while.
A backup plan.
One he had used ages ago back when Epoch Eternal was still a game and he needed to break through impossible player blockades.
He hadn’t needed it since the world had changed.
Until now.
Isaac’s masked face tilted toward the darkening sky.
“If you want me to come to you…” He stood up, stretching his arms.
“…I’ll give you what you want.”
Then, he dropped down from the roof landing silently and disappeared into the streets.
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THE RIGHT SUPPLIER
The shop was old, discreet, and tucked between two much larger buildings.
It had no sign. No advertisements. No welcoming display.
But if you knew who to ask? You’d find it.
Isaac stepped inside, the door creaking slightly as he entered the dimly lit space. Shelves lined the walls, filled with bottles of various colors, sizes, and labels.
A deep voice greeted him from the shadows.
“Well, well. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
A tall, muscular orc emerged from behind the counter, arms crossed. His green skin was scarred, his tusks slightly chipped, but his eyes were sharp.
Isaac nodded slightly. “Duggan.”
The alchemist smirked. “What’s the ghost need this time?”
Isaac reached into his satchel and placed a heavy pouch of gold onto the counter.
“I need every monster-attracting potion you have.”
Duggan’s smirk vanished.
He leaned forward slightly. “...All of them?”
Isaac nodded. “All of them.”
The orc whistled low. “That’s a hell of a request. You planning on turning the forest into a battlefield?”
Isaac tilted his head. “Something like that.”
Duggan studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Your money.”
He turned, grabbing several thick wooden crates from behind the counter, each one filled with vials of various colors.
Duggan tapped one bottle. “This one draws in wolves.”
Then another. “This? Insects.”
Another. “Bigger game. Ogres. Trolls. Maybe worse.”
He gestured toward a dark red vial.
“This one?” Duggan chuckled. “Anything that smells blood.”
Isaac inspected them, testing the weight.
“Perfect.”
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PART 5: A STORM IN THE MAKING
Isaac moved quickly.
Within an hour, he had left the safety of the city, heading deep into Alderwood Forest.
The night was cool, the stars barely visible through the canopy. The distant sounds of monsters stirred in the dark. Creatures that usually avoided roads, settlements, people.
But soon?
That would change.
Isaac stood in a small clearing, setting down his satchel. He pulled out the vials, holding them one by one to the moonlight.
The Iron Hounds wanted him to come to them.
Fine.
They’d get him.
But he wasn’t coming alone.
As he uncorked the first bottle, letting its potent scent drift into the wind, he chuckled softly to himself.
“Let’s see how well you can guard a road… when the whole damn forest wants you dead.”