"Just kill me，Please!
Connor's plea was filled with such defeated exhaustion that it was clear he no longer understood the world he lived in. Resigned to his fate, he lay there, wishing for it all to end.
Looking down at Connor, Murphy raised an eyebrow and said in a lighthearted tone, "I see you’re unharmed. So, why the dramatics?"
"Just kill me!"
"I'm just trying to figure out what brought you to Viscount Reed's lands in the first place."
"Just kill me!"
Murphy gestured to Byron down the stairs, "It seems he's forgotten quite a bit. Help him with his memory, will you?"
As Byron flexed his wrists and approached Connor, the young man—apparently fearing his death was not near enough and dreading further bodily suffering—quickly blurted out, "I’ll talk, just make it quick. Anything you want to know."
"Ask and you shall answer," Murphy said with a chilling simplicity.
"Understood," Connor whispered, still sprawled on the ground.
"Name?"
"Connor."
"Age?"
"Twenty-two."
"Occupation?"
"Battle mage, level thirty."
"What brings you to the City of Gath?"
"To assassinate the new lord, Seth."
"Who sent you?"
"My teacher."
"Name!"
"The Kingdom's Guardian, Luminary of Humanity, Beloved of Magic, the favored of the Goddess of Victory, the grand and exalted mage—Lord Melrose."
"You saying your prayers or something?" The last time Murphy heard a title that extravagant, it was attached to an abstract painter back home.
"So your teacher holds many titles. Are we to inquire with each one?" Pepe sounded skeptical.
Murphy rolled his eyes at his apprentice, silently telling her to drop it; it was all one person.
"Why don't you have any fancy titles, Master?"
"I haven't thought of a good one yet."
After side-stepping his overly curious apprentice, Murphy continued his interrogation, "Why assassinate Seth?"
"He stood in the way of my teacher's great endeavor," Connor replied with an earnest passion.
Murphy's interest piqued, "And what is this great endeavor of your teacher?"
"I don't know. I'm not one of his core disciples," Connor said bitterly.
"You really are rubbish," Pepe insulted yet again.
"That’s all I know! I was supposed to kill Seth today and that's it. I’ve failed, and I've lost the most valuable thing to me—my hair. Just end it quickly, please," Connor wailed hopelessly on the ground.
"Go home," Murphy dismissed with a wave of his hand.
Connor couldn’t believe his ears. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, go back where you came from. I don’t kill people here, nor do I keep useless hounds." Murphy gestured disdainfully towards the big Golden Retriever at the dungeon’s entrance. "Look at you, you’re not even as good as it."
Glancing towards the glossy-coated Golden Retriever at the door, Connor's tears of inadequacy fell.
"Alright, enough," Murphy clapped his hands. "The matter with Seth is closed. If there's an issue, have your teacher come to me directly. Byron!"
"Yes, sir."
"Have Lambert feed him and send him out of the city."
"Got it."
When Lambert heard that there was a guest to feed, he enthusiastically whipped up a table full of abominable dishes that even a dog would reject. After enduring the appalling feast, Connor was shoved and nudged out of the city by two skeleton soldiers at dusk, who even gave him a couple of silver coins for the road.
As for the staff of a battle mage, obviously, Connor had lost all right to reclaim it.
Back in her room, Pepe, who had fiddled with the staff for a long time, sighed. Indeed, this staff was different from her own, which felt like it could fall apart any second. Be it the shaft or the inlaid gemstones, it was superior in every way.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"Knock, knock, knock," after much contemplation, Pepe resolved to seek advice from her often erratic but sometimes reliable master.
The Lord of Demons [Murphy] was at that moment busy maintaining his alter ego as an author. He cracked the door just a smidge to peek at his apprentice.
"This is my personal time, apprentice without boundaries," Murphy said, half-joking.
"I have something important to discuss with Master," Pepe played coy.
Murphy opened the door fully, "Then speak."
Pepe presented her left hand, previously hidden behind her back, "I have this..."
"That's the best staff from Little River Village. I recognize it; I gave it to you. What's the big issue?"
She revealed her right hand in kind, "And this is..."
"That's from the fellow with the fanciful hair—your spoils of victory."
"I was thinking..."
"You want to use the new one, but you're too attached to the old, right?" Murphy guessed with a knowing look.
Pepe was momentarily speechless, then admitted, "Something like that? But not entirely. Even though I know the village chief's staff isn’t the best, I don’t want to replace it. I wanted to use this new staff to enhance the Little River Village's best staff, but it didn't work."
"You're quite ambitious, aren't you? I don't recall teaching you anything about crafting or enhancement."
"I read a little bit…"
"And did you learn anything?"
Pepe, still clutching both staffs, raised them high, "Isn't it obvious that I didn't?"
"Well, let me give you a lesson," Murphy said as he led his apprentice toward the workroom.
Murphy, a transmigrant even without special skills and armed with the ability to view panels, certainly had an edge over the locals. He first checked the stats of the Little River Village's best staff (+1) and saw no change from the last enhancement. Then he examined Pepe's trophy:
[Weapon: Heart of Mist
Quality: Fine (Blue)
Attributes: Attack +20, Agility +10%, Casting Speed +10%, Mana Cap +50
---
Ironwood: Additional +10 physical damage.
Mist Crystal: Increases casting speed of water-attributed mist spells by an extra 10%.
---
The capricious work of a true master]
Murphy’s eyes sparkled, "Fine piece indeed!"
Hesitant to merge a watermelon into a sesame seed, he turned back to Pepe to confirm, "You’re sure you want to melt this down?"
Determined, Pepe nodded, unable to part with her first magical possession. Murphy knew that, in certain MMORPGs, high-level gear could be used to strengthen low-level items, but the specifics eluded him in this world.
After pondering for a moment, and under Pepe's expectant and curious gaze, Murphy found a solution…
"My dear apprentice, do you know how miracles happen?" Murphy asked.
"How do they happen?" Pepe gazed with an eagerness for knowledge.
"With great force—miracles arise," Murphy recited an old slogan from home.
Grasping both staffs, he dissipated the magic lingering within—a necessary step before reinforcement. Otherwise, the chaotic surge of magic could disrupt the inner circuits of the staff during enhancement or modification.
Murphy then began an enchantment far beyond the understanding of the ordinary:
First, he softened the Heart of Mist using a high-level softening spell. The once unyielding ironwood became limp as overcooked noodles.
Next, he stretched the softened ironwood, tripling its length. Using the Little River Village's best staff (+1) as a core, he tightly wound the Heart of Mist around it, making sure the Mist Crystal nestled just below the main shaft. Once satisfied with the alignment, he applied a hardening spell to cancel out the previous softening, fusing both components.
Finally, he merged the magic circuits of both items, ensuring a smooth, even flow of the user’s magic or life force through each tiny channel within the staff, unifying them on several levels.
Meanwhile, far away in the capital's towering magic tower, an old man in grey robes opened his eyes. Despite his drooping eyelids and slackened skin obscuring his gaze, they shone with an unfathomable power.
"Connor has failed, someone has tampered with the Heart of Mist."
The old man peered through his tiny window towards the southwest, his gaze piercing Reed Viscount's lands.
After a moment, the tower erupted with a rasping laugh, "Seth Reed, you’re not as simple as you seem. Whether my decision was right or wrong, it seems I must verify it myself."
But how did any of this relate to Murphy?
Murphy, thrilled with his handiwork, inspected the staff from all angles. Transformed from a slender cylinder to a cone, its dual gemstones, a blend of oak and ironwood, made it hard to put down.
Ignoring Pepe's eager and astonished eyes, Murphy checked the weapon's stats:
[Weapon: Little River Village's Best Staff Pro (+1)
Quality: Fine+ (Blue)
Attributes: Attack +30, Mana Cap +130, Casting Speed +9%
---
Twins: Extra +10% casting speed.
Ironwood (-): The staff can be used for physical attacks without falling apart.
Mist Crystal (-): Extra +8% casting speed for water-attributed mist spells.
Cheap Core: 20% reduction in staff weight.
Not So Authentic: +10 Attack for users from Little River Village, +3 Attack for users from elsewhere (Unique Passive)
Refined Gem: Attack +8, Mana Cap +50, Casting Speed +3%
---
Fortified by an aging mage who wishes to remain anonymous.
Enhanced by a haughty mage in an unprecedented enhancement.]
Murphy thought to himself, “Is Pepe going to battle foes buffed to the high heavens with this +18 village best staff?”
Shaking off such bizarre thoughts, Murphy handed the staff to Pepe, who was practically quivering with impatience, "Looks like you can’t wait any longer. Go give it a try."
As Pepe dashed off to the basement to test her new weapon, Murphy returned to his bedroom to continue cultivating his author alter ego.
---
Atop a hillock in the Stucar no-man's land, young Doyle, the squad captain, couldn't help feeling joyous as he viewed the endless seas of tents and encampments. Even his steed sighed in relief.
Ever since Doyle returned to the capital with news of their triumph over the demons, his popularity amongst the young generation skyrocketed. Despite the nobility's private grumbling that Doyle's family were mere hunting hounds for the Heracles clan, nobody would say such things to their faces.
Quite the contrary, Doyle’s victory provided the other families a perfect excuse to cozy up to them. In no time, admonishments like, "Look at young Master Doyle of the Doyle family, tackling demons at twenty. Now look at you, nothing but lazy..." became a buzzing refrain in the capital. And poor Byron Reed, who fought alongside Doyle, remained a footnote as no noble seemed to acknowledge him.
Buoyed by this softened relationship, Doyle saw nothing but smiles wherever he went—invitations to parties and dances or requests to mentor their children in swordplay or marksmanship.
Small Doyle was sensible enough not to let it get to his head, and old Doyle warned him against arrogance. But the nobles' flattery still managed to puff Doyle up.
So, when the king sought a commander to oversee the western and northern fronts during the council meeting, Doyle stepped up without a second's hesitation.
Old Doyle could only inwardly sigh at his son's impulsive bravery.
Alas, the Doyle family served as the king's sharpest sword for nearly a century. Shrinking now would tarnish their reputation overnight. Yet if the western and northern armies were feigning discord and truly united, old Doyle feared he might never see his only son again.
Reluctant to dampen his son's high spirits, old Doyle kept silent, meticulously preparing his son's gear and entrusting him with his best weapons and armor suitable for Doyle's level. All he could hope was that if things went south, his son would find a way to survive.
Unaware of his father’s worries and the nobles' sneers, armed with new equipment and steed, young Doyle led his squad through the night, reaching the Stucar no-man's land on the last day of August, ready to enjoy his pleasant overseer assignment.