Chapter 106
Chapter 106
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 106
Chapter Title: The Impostor's Snatch
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Chapter 106
The White Skeleton was on the verge of madness.
This plan had only been possible because Meteor was the one holding the Necronomicon copy.
Not the Western Flower from the west, who seemed impervious to any attack, but Meteor—brimming with potential yet still incomplete, with exploitable gaps everywhere.
But what if the Necronomicon copy fell into Western Flower's hands?
Sure, there were people who could take her down.
But not him, and not the mercenaries he'd hired.
"Grab it!"
There was only one option left: intercept the Necronomicon copy Meteor had thrown mid-flight. And damn that Meteor—he must have some skill in throwing, because the book arced perfectly straight toward Western Flower.
Reading the White Skeleton's will, the Dullahans targeting Western Flower spun around in unison, reaching for the book. The other undead followed suit.
But the mercenaries were frozen, caught off guard by Meteor's sudden move.
*'Idiots!'*
After learning they'd fight Meteor, they'd bragged about being different from Pattern's hires, but bullshit. To him, they were all the same.
*'This is why money-grubbing bastards are useless!'*
In contrast, his undead responded instantly to his command, hurling themselves toward the Necronomicon copy.
*'Huh? This might actually work?'*
Surprisingly, the copy seemed within a Dullahan's grasp. His face lit up.
*'If they just grab it!'*
Even killing Meteor offered slim odds of the book dropping. But snatching the copy mid-air?
That would put the Necronomicon copy right in his hands.
*'For real? Is this happening?'*
His heart pounded. He'd known the odds of achieving his goal were minuscule, charging in blindly because it was the only known copy.
But if this worked?
*'Grab it!'*
Maybe persistence really paid off.
By now, the Necronomicon copy was tantalizingly close to the Dullahan's hand.
Meteor, surrounded by mercenaries, and even Western Flower at that distance—neither could snatch it faster than the Dullahan.
*'Not unless it's an agility build, but that woman's a blatant strength tank.'*
Of course, as a ranker, she'd invested heavily in agility too. But not on the level of a pure agility character.
*'It's mine!'*
Joy flashed across the White Skeleton's face.
Snap!
Some hand snatched the Necronomicon copy.
Not a Dullahan, who'd thrown down its sword and even its head to reach; not the mercenaries finally snapping to; and certainly not Meteor, who'd tossed it.
It was a thick gauntlet.
*'Western Flower?'*
Elation plummeted to despair, a chill crawling up his spine.
*'How?'*
That distance was impossible for Western Flower to cover. Especially not today, when she seemed off her game.
But it was definitely Western Flower who'd grabbed the Necronomicon copy.
Slash!
Western Flower moved. The White Skeleton was stunned again.
*'What the hell is that speed!'*
Could Western Flower move that fast? Wasn't she a power-focused heavy warrior?
*'Hiding her strength? No, that doesn't make sense.'*
What would she gain from hiding it here? Racking his brain, the only benefit was...
*'The Necronomicon copy?'*
A flash of insight hit him. What if she'd been after it?
No matter how messy the process, the copy was now in her grasp.
*'But Western Flower isn't the type.'*
Her reputation was stellar. Sure, haters and jealous rivals called her money-obsessed, but that was just trash talk.
Someone ruthless with money couldn't build that image.
Neither her skills nor her rep fit.
Only one conclusion.
*'That's not Western Flower.'*
Full plate armor hid everything inside. She usually wore similar gear, so it'd fooled them perfectly.
But that wasn't all. The key reason they'd mistaken the armored figure for Western Flower: the skills matched her usual ones.
Just someone with similar skills?
No, the White Skeleton knew a better suspect.
"You damn—"
He ground his teeth, clutching the book—no, shouting at the one who'd landed on the ground.
"You baby crib scammer bitch!"
"Hahahahahaha!"
Not Western Flower—what the White Skeleton called the baby crib scammer bitch laughed loudly. Her voice changed. No longer Western Flower's.
The mercenaries, who'd failed to keep up since Meteor threw the book, finally realized the armored woman wasn't Western Flower.
And they knew who she was.
Forget everything else—only one person got called the baby crib scammer bitch by the White Skeleton.
"No way, Method?"
"That's not Western Flower?"
The armored woman removed her helmet. Now they were sure. The beautiful face emerging wasn't Western Flower's.
"Scammer bitch? Call me grand actress."
"Bullshit!"
The White Skeleton directed a Dullahan at her. But she retreated far back. Her skills and movements were completely different from Western Flower's. That was her true skill.
The mercenaries buzzed.
"Her movements are totally different from before."
"It's Method. She was mimicking Western Flower with her Mimic skill."
Her class was thief. But in Arc, no job required specific skills. Meteor exemplified this, progressing with minimal skills.
Sure, many Arc thieves followed the classic trap-detection, disassembly, monster-tracking path.
But not her. She copied and mocked opponents' traits.
Mimic wasn't a top-tier skill. But for deception like this, it was gold.
In a way, she fit the thief name better than traditional ones, whose names mismatched abilities due to translation quirks.
"Hand it over now!"
The White Skeleton bellowed at Method. He meant the Necronomicon copy, obviously. No way she'd hand it over politely.
"Tch!"
She stowed the book in her inventory.
Despair crossed the White Skeleton's face. Once in inventory, even killing her meant slim drop odds.
Sure, it was barely different from when Meteor had it, so his despair might seem overblown.
But after thinking victory was at hand—only to see this—his strength drained away.
Yet the White Skeleton endured.
If he crumbled here, he never would've chased this slim chance for the copy.
"Kill that bastard!"
He sent his undead after her. The mercenaries followed their employer's lead, weapons raised toward Method.
But things were different now.
Method wasn't a low-level like Meteor. Her stats focused on agility. Sure, Mimic diluted pure agility investment, but she was still a ranker.
People who could chase Meteor couldn't catch her.
"Sorry, I hate fighting."
Deception and mockery were her thing.
She turned and bolted down the mountain. Glancing back at Meteor, she waved grandly.
"Thanks for the Necronomicon copy! Traveling with you was fun!"
Pure mockery, of course.
"Chase her!"
At the White Skeleton's shout, the mercenaries surged after her.
"What about that guy?"
A mercenary pointed at Meteor. The White Skeleton glanced over. Meteor stared blankly at the fleeing Method. Uninterested, the Skeleton looked away.
"Leave the retard. Low-level top physical? Bullshit. Brain's full of shit."
He sneered.
Sure, fooling Meteor with her veteran deceptions might be tough.
He had elite physicals and matching skills, but he'd just started Arc.
Method was a grizzled Arc vet.
But so what? Was Arc a game that babied noobs for lack of experience?
Arc was a brutal jungle of massive capital. Victims were just suckers.
And right now, Meteor was a sucker.
*'Feels kinda good.'*
Meteor had steamrolled from low levels with godlike physicals. Plenty jealous, including the White Skeleton.
Now Meteor got properly screwed.
*'Even if he blows up later, this'll stick like a tag.'*
That thought cooled his volcanic rage a bit.
Not that his anger was that shallow.
*'Ignore that punk. Focus on the scammer bitch now.'*
"But hey,"
"What now?"
"Chasing Method's fine, but pursuit battles weren't in our contract. Got it?"
More money, bottom line.
*'Yeah, this is Arc.'*
Experience or not, get caught weak, get bitten.
"Double base pay. Success bonus doubled, obviously."
"Keh, you're the real deal."
He bellowed to his crew.
"Double base, double bonus! Go all out, you bastards!"
"Hell yeah!"
"White Skeleton's the man! Spends like a boss!"
"Method, Mizory—catch 'em, kill 'em!"
Mercenary morale soared.
It stung paying more, but the fired-up sight helped.
*'I'll get that Necronomicon copy somehow.'*
At this point, it was pride. C.O.T.S or wildcards—anything blocking him gets crushed.
His eyes locked on Method's back, far ahead descending the mountain.