Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: To Trinsic! (2)
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The time Rokan logged back into The Lord after the access restriction ended was 3:50 a.m. There were still ten minutes until his appointment with the MP Guild, but he had logged in early to take care of one task.
“This should do it.”
Rokan stowed away his main weapon, the orc clan battle axe, and swapped his gear for the ‘Skeleton Warrior Series.’ Not just his armor—he was now wielding a scimitar and shield.
He didn’t even have the related mastery skill, so his combat power would drop, but this gear wasn’t meant for fighting anyway. It was just for show, a disguise.
And one more thing. He activated the special ability of his ‘Mastermind’ title: Disguise.
“Use Disguise.”
[You have used Disguise.]
[Your name and appearance have been randomly changed. This effect will last for the next hour.]
It was a shame he couldn’t specify the new appearance or name, but it was still excellent. Rokan now looked like a completely different person.
‘No need to reveal myself for just one secret dungeon.’
If he hadn’t acquired the Mastermind title, he would have pulled a hooded robe low over his face and been extra cautious. But the title’s special effect made that unnecessary.
One hour would be plenty of time.
Sometimes people asked to run the first clear together to learn the strategy, but Moonlit Cemetery wasn’t really worth that.
There were no special regeneration abilities or tricky monsters—just go in and smash them. So there wouldn’t be any such requests.
A short while later, Rokan headed to the meeting spot in his completely altered appearance. A man who appeared to be from the MP Guild was waiting. They confirmed each other’s identities with a passphrase exchange as Rokan approached.
“MP.”
“O-ring-yo.”
“You’re alone?”
“Yes. No point drawing attention from others. They’re on standby—if you contact them, they’ll come running.”
His glance seemed to warn Rokan not to try anything funny. It was laughable to Rokan.
“Then let’s go.”
“Payment first.”
Rokan firmly held out his hand to the man who was talking about heading out. They had agreed on half upfront, half on completion.
In return, the man made one demand.
“I’ll use one skill. We need our safety measures too.”
“Of course.”
A safety measure via skill. In these cases, people usually used ‘Pierce’ or placed a ‘Location Track.’
“Pierce.”
And that’s what he chose. His eyes glowed blue as he scanned over Rokan’s head.
“Here’s the upfront payment, Krypton.”
Rokan nearly burst out laughing at the man’s tone, which implied he knew everything. Pierce had only revealed the disguised name.
“Let’s go.”
Rokan managed his expression and led him to the cemetery.
* * *
The cemetery was already sparsely populated, and at 4 a.m., there was no one on the way there at all.
Hardcore gamers who pulled all-nighters would be hunting in the fields at this hour, not lurking around here.
Thanks to that, Rokan arrived without drawing any eyes and immediately found the gravekeeper’s prosthetic leg and the dungeon entrance.
“Fit this in here, and the dungeon appears. Give it a try.”
“Oh, so that’s the mechanism.”
The man nodded as he took the prosthetic leg and slotted it into the groove. With a small vibration, the secret dungeon entrance appeared.
“Please keep it secret, and the balance...”
“Here it is. I’ll contact you if there’s any issue.”
“Sounds good.”
Fortunately, the man didn’t change his mind after learning the entry method. He paid the balance without issue, and while Rokan confirmed the amount, the other guild members arrived and formed a party with him.
They had apparently been waiting to dive into the dungeon right away.
‘Not bad.’
[Gold held: 51 gold 98 silver 20 copper]
The secret dungeon had sold for 50 gold. No one could’ve scraped that much together solo at this point, so the guild must’ve pooled it or he’d shelled out real money.
How they got it didn’t matter. What mattered was what Rokan could do with this money now.
Rokan returned to the city and immediately started walking toward Trinsic.
* * *
“Fucking exhausting! This is the problem with The Lord.”
Preparations to head to Trinsic were done long ago, so there was no hesitation. He stocked up plenty on food and stamina potions, swapping the steel boots from the orc champion for low-defense shoes that boosted movement speed by 10%.
Normal gamers might head to the next city in their underwear, but that was impossible in The Lord.
Hunger and thirst reduced movement speed, lowered stats, and eventually drained HP periodically. Head out unprepared on a long trip, and you could starve to death on the road.
That’s why Rokan’s inventory was packed full of food and drinks.
“Still, made it somehow.”
After walking for about half a day.
He could finally spot Trinsic with the naked eye in the distance.
But no slacking off. One slip-up could mean respawning in Kton, his last save point.
Even on the main road between cities, monsters from nearby fields often wandered in, so caution was needed until the end.
Of course, any monster that met Rokan would be the unlucky one.
“Hm?”
Rustle.
Then, a presence stirred in the forest ahead. A small movement, but not the rough motion of an animal or monster. It was the suppressed presence of a person holding still.
‘Well, well.’
Pew!
At the same time, three streaks of light descended from the sky.
To others, it might look like a bolt from the blue, but Rokan knew the cause.
Teleport via Rune Book. Someone had flown in here.
“Oh, jackpot.”
“That Savage drop gear?”
“Must be some levels if he cleared Savage Village.”
“You never know—maybe he bit off more than he could chew.”
Rokan hardened his expression, focusing on the eyes of the approaching group as they snickered among themselves.
Red pupils. They were PKers—Player Killers—who had already killed fellow users.
‘Right, these guys existed too.’
Rokan finally remembered. In his past life, there had been punks like this. They showed up just as you neared your destination, reveling in your despair.
PKing was a nasty act, but if you were weak, you just had to take it lying down.
As Rokan recalled the fools who’d messed with him and paid for it, feeling a fresh thrill, one of them sauntered forward with a taunt.
“Hey, buddy, got a minute? Looks like we need to talk.”
They must’ve mistaken his composure for fear.
“Talk? Sounds good.”
Rokan smirked.
“Did the bastard lose his mind?”
“Laughing when he doesn’t even know who we are...”
The mood turned hostile in an instant.
Anyone not an idiot would know their intent by now, yet he laughed. The PKers figured he was either confident in his skills, or looking down on them—or both.
But the leader swallowed his anger. He had a goal.
“Last chance. Drop one piece of gear you’re wearing, and we’ll let you go. Good deal, right? No need to get cocky and die—then you’d have to walk all the way from Kton again, and we won’t ask nicely next time.”
‘Who do these punks think they’re messing with...’
Rokan’s eyes shifted from amused to cold as they demanded he drop gear.
Dying to PK drops one random item, including equipped ones.
Not always, though. The drop rate was higher than from monsters—conventional wisdom said 10-20%.
But demanding he drop equipped gear first? They had no intention of letting him go—they clearly saw him as a sucker.
“Items, huh. Yeah, got a good one.”
Rokan let out an ambiguous laugh—relief at being alive, or sheer disbelief—as he reached into his inventory and pulled something out.
“Eat this!”
“Crazy bastard!”
Whish!
It was his secondary weapon, a hand axe. The frontman was a knight class, proven by the kite shield covering his torso. But he flinched at the axe’s speed.
“Guh!”
Thud!
It was no ordinary throw—Rokan’s monstrous strength sent it flying. The knight blocked with his shield but staggered and collapsed.
Pushed back by a mere thrown weapon, not even a main one.
“Dark Sword!”
“You little shit!”
Did they not grasp the meaning? The others from a step back targeted Rokan simultaneously.
They thought they were saving their buddy, but to Rokan, it was child’s play.
‘If you can’t gauge your opponent properly... you die.’
Rokan’s eyes flashed as he drew his main weapon from inventory.
Whoosh!
“...!”
“Eek!”
Splat!
The sound of a missile launching echoed as the orc clan battle axe cleaved from crown to jaw.
A clean strike, no resistance.
“What weaklings.”
Rokan had expected them to block or tank it, but that was it. Poor skills, worse HP. They’d dumped everything into strength and agility, relying on half-baked swordplay.
“Just die, punk!”
Twang!
Then the rearguard archer loosed an arrow. Aimed for the head, but way off target.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He’d chosen archer banking on stat bonuses, but missing at this range meant no going beyond Trinsic.
Time for payback!
Rokan swiftly grabbed his remaining hand axe and hurled it.
“Whoa!”
Agility investment paid off—he barely dodged. But that was his limit. He hadn’t fled for distance or kept Rokan pinned.
Meanwhile, Rokan vaulted the corpse and charged.
“M-Multi sha...”
“Grahhhhh!”
The archer panicked at the beast-like charge, raising his bow—but too late.
Rokan’s War Cry seized control, shackling him. Lifting his foot felt like crossing a swamp.
“Strike!”
The archer barely parried with his bow stave. He skidded back, knees buckling, but stopped just short of decapitation.
“Chah!”
Not total trash—he dropped the bow and slashed at Rokan’s waist with his backup short sword.
“Kid, where’d you learn that.”
No chance. Rokan smacked the short sword with the axe haft’s end.
Clang!
The sword flew, the archer’s face ashen.
“Shield Attack!”
Salvation’s voice rang out. The knight, battered from the hand axe, charged with shield forward. He’d used ‘Charge’ too—half a beat faster.
Boom!
“...”
But he never reached Rokan. A casual one-handed axe haft swing pinned him short.
“Monster...”
“Persistent.”
Boom!
The battle axe slammed the shield again, smashing the knight to the ground.
“Dash.”
Rokan shot the opposite way. The sneaking archer took a full-force kick to the head.
Soccer kick!
One shot neutralized him. Rokan turned to the rest with a wicked grin.
Then, graciously, he spoke.
“Last chance. Drop one piece of gear you’re wearing, and I’ll let you go. Good deal, right?”