Chapter 69: Pursuers from the Past
"Vulcan, was it? What a shitty name. Same as that retard."
"Retard? Oh, that guy. He's in the gutter now, but back in the day, so many assholes played with the same name because of him. Come to think of it, I had a friend who did too."
"No way it's the same dude, right?"
"Nah, no chance. He took a massive level drop from all those infinite PKs, but not enough to be scraping around here, you know? Probably died a few more times under level 200 until the PK ban lifted. Gear got stripped clean, sure, but the guy who held the top spot back then? He'd have enough clout not to sink this low."
They're digging deep. Not like they know, but still.
To glean more info, Vulcan bowed his head and edged closer to the group. Hearing them trash-talk his name and dredge up old stories made his gut twist.
Gloria Saga allowed duplicate character names, so they clearly didn't peg him as the former Rank 1 Vulcan. But that just made their barbs cut deeper, stabbing right into his chest. In a way, it was his past glory—and a raw, bitter wound.
At least they have a rough idea of the Blizzard Staff's value.
The bitterness faded quick. Vulcan coldly analyzed the situation from their chatter.
Scouring the secondary, tertiary, and quaternary cities around here for him? That screamed they knew the staff's worth. Otherwise, why comb through all those places?
The whole guild could go down? Means there's a backer involved. What was their guild name again?
But something smelled off about their talk. Not just getting chewed out or excommunicated by the guild master— the entire guild facing fallout? That pointed to outside pressure, not internal drama.
Vulcan instantly checked their guild emblems and names. Had to see if they were a second- or third-string outfit for some major guild.
Naphaz Guild. Hmm, not part of any major line, then.
From what he knew, Naphaz wasn't an official ally of the top guilds dubbed "lines." Sure, he'd fallen far from ranker circles, but he still tracked the main scenario quests—who was ahead, who held the reins.
Unofficial ties, then? Or just mid-tier scrubs?
Luckily, that meant slim odds of high-level top-guild users crashing their party. Level 200s he could handle somehow, but 300+? A guild-wide PK order from a top outfit stacked with those? Even bolting to a major city and using teleport arrays wouldn't save him easy.
Best not to clash until it's clear...
"I'd rather it was the real deal. If that bastard stole the Blizzard Staff to get revenge on us from back then, we'd have a case, right? Hell, we could beat his ass, snag it back, and maybe even become an official New Age affiliate."
...What?
He'd pegged them as no official sub-guild, but their connection was real—just unconfirmed who pulled the strings. He'd chosen caution. Then bam—out popped the name that flipped Vulcan's berserk switch.
New Age. In Gloria Saga's setting of a post-Divine Sword era, it was the name of his old guild, full of ambition to lead the new age. Now? Seized by backstabbing ex-comrades—blood enemies—who'd planted it firmly as one of the server's top 10 guilds.
"You think that'll fly? Vanguard's the one who gave us the job."
"Vanguard's New Age's third-string, so yeah, plenty possible. They lost interest after Vulcan tanked below 200, but that grudge ain't gone. Word it right, and those guys'll come running. It's their dirty secret too—and even after they betrayed him, they're still touchy as hell about Vulcan."
"Shh! Talk like that gets around, and we're fucked too. Watch your mouth, asshole."
"Ahem. Just saying, is all. Not like it's him anyway. Tch. Level up's right there—wanna wrap this and get back to hunting."
So that's the play.
Their banter filled in the blanks. Naphaz wasn't under New Age direct command—made sense now. They were managed by Vanguard, New Age's third-tier guild.
They don't care about small fry like this...
Not official enough to claim the line, so probably just nobodies desperate to lick boots for sub-guild status. Tons of those types handled annoying quests, level-locked gigs, dirty work. They'd cut tails easy if cornered. But one thing was crystal:
Bait material for sure.
Vanguard ordered the Blizzard Staff grab. Even if not New Age proper, they valued it special. No clue how much they knew, but if Vulcan leaked intel on purpose? Twist it—not the staff, but say, the Ice Bead or Glacial Heart in his hands?
Could lure 'em out solid.
Might be a better card than I thought.
Didn't matter if Vanguard bit or New Age did. Beat a dog, the owner shows.
Time to pay for picking the wrong master.
Killing intent surged in Vulcan's eyes like never before. But his body pulled away—opposite direction.
Business done in Kuzar Village. On to the next city. Not like the old Vulcan, who'd snap and charge blind with rage-vision.
Trusting himself was good, but no self-awareness? Straight back to the abyss.
Strategic retreat, then. Swallowing boiling fury—for self-control if nothing else—he hopped the first carriage to a quaternary city.
- No need to dismantle them. Keep following my lead at this pace, and no matter who they are, they'll be under your feet soon enough.
"Got it. I trust you, Tud."
Whether Tud read his shaky headspace or not, the "encouragement" landed. Vulcan gave a faint smile and nod, forcibly shifting gears.
"But really, anywhere's fine?"
- Yeah. None of the connected villages are special. As long as it links to Smell, we're good. Faster soul-tempering would be ideal, but...
Talk turned to his next stop: the quaternary city. Tud had name-dropped artisan city Smell as the route reason, but both Schnell and Kuzar had purposes. The quaternary? Fully Vulcan's call.
Any linked to Smell worked—pick away. Leveling push sweetened it; decision was quick.
You have arrived at Rasenu Village.
Rasenu, the granary region. Advanced agriculture meant food aplenty—and monsters swarming for it. Monster levels spanned wide: from 115s to 150s, rivaling major cities.
Better stick to what I know.
He knew Rasenu like the back of his hand—could map it blind. Broad level range, rich resources; he'd hunted here ages back.
One downside: not great for artisan mats. But buy what you need, and leveling was priority now. Perfect spot.
Scattered across 2nd, 3rd, 4th cities? Even hordes couldn't spare more than 5-10 per city. Small fries like Kuzar, maybe—but covering a full city? No shot.
Risks remained, sure. Naphaz goons hunting him bloodshot-eyed? Hotspots like this got extra scrutiny.
And no way they expect a quaternary push this soon.
But Vulcan saw different. They hadn't pinned him yet—wouldn't dream quaternary this quick. Sure, they'd sprinkled into quaternary cities, but as a hedge against him bolting to majors via teleports. Not real coverage.
Where'd they camp? Carriage stops to majors or 5th cities. Block those, done—too few to blanket cities. Auction houses at best.
She didn't spot me, so no issue... but no loose ends. Leveling first.
In other words: no chasing to hunt spots.
Mind eased, Vulcan ditched the carriage stop fast, memory guiding him.
Rasenu's got that one spot.
He was among the first users to tread Rasenu soil—and notched another first: uncovering and clearing its hidden quest.
That propelled him ahead in Rasenu and beyond. Even with a mere Common warrior class.
Now? I could clear it all.
Time passed, no first-clear perks, so less shine. But Legendary class now. And truth? He hadn't fully cleared it back then.
Everyone thought he had—but nope. Pathetic ability shortfall stopped him short of all stages.
Now? Gear power outstripped then, plus utility. Full clear possible?
Can't wait.
Excitement shook him—surpassing past self, real start feeling, and whatever prize waited. Steps quickened toward his secret hidden quest.