Over Ten? They've Really Packed 'Em In

'Over ten? They've really crammed them in on purpose.'

The moment he stepped into the sewer, a wave of putrid, sour stench assaulted Vulcan—worse than the sweat he'd smelled back in Kuzar. It was so foul that no user in their right mind would willingly come here, yet Dragon Eye picked up over ten users inside. That was just the ones he could spot immediately; factoring in those deeper in or around corners out of sight, there might be more than twenty.

Gathered in a place like this, in such numbers, hunting? Their intent was obvious. Sewer rats didn't level high, gave stingy EXP, and dropped either nothing or worthless junk. No sane user would farm here.

'All Vanguard. Confirmed.'

If the hunting grounds were overcrowded or competition too fierce elsewhere, maybe—but Raseu territory teemed with monsters across all level ranges. No matter how cutthroat, better spots existed for several times faster leveling. Being here meant a special purpose.

'How should I probe for the truth?'

For that reason, Vulcan couldn't help harboring malice toward them. They might be innocent, but the ally of his enemy was his enemy, right? And these weren't just foes—they were objects of vengeance, grudges he had to settle.

With eyes laced with malice and murder, he scanned their levels, class makeup, patrol routes, and advanced slowly.

'Vanguard's rookies, being groomed.'

He was stealthed via Shadow Assimilation, and the sewer's natural darkness maxed out his Shadow Hunt Hound set's effects, but Vulcan stayed vigilant. Even so, if they swarmed him at once, it could get dicey. Of course, if spotted and a fight broke out, he was confident. These were Vanguard rookies, not elites. Vanguard's core was late-200s users; they had no reason to quest here.

Vulcan's target quest allowed fast leveling, but only for early-to-mid 100s—not meaningful for 200+.

'One slip, and they spot me.'

Going berserk could wipe them all—darkness was his ally, and his attack/defense overwhelmed theirs. But that meant nothing. It was a last resort. They'd respawn quick post-quest anyway, and it'd just draw their elites—like poking a hornet's nest.

'If I'm right, I can cut off their honey at the source. Hang tight, rookies.'

Splash, splash. Vulcan kept his cool, slipping past them. Stealth hid his form, but not footstep noise, so he treaded carefully. Stagnant puddles everywhere—step wrong, and he'd slip or splash.

Thus, he headed deeper, following Dragon Eye's guidance.

What came into view: filthy rat pups, about 50cm long, caked in filth. And Vanguard rookies grimacing as they hunted them.

The reason for grinding these stingy EXP, no-drop trash? Simple: killing them boosted Raseu reputation fast.

'Proper hunting's the fastest way to level? Hilarious.'

With abundant resources, farming or basic hunts barely raised affinity. But tackling filthy jobs no one else would? Different story. Sewer cleaning quests gave paltry contribution points but generous rep. Grind here, and reputation soared.

'Rack up enough rep, join the Lord's hunting tournament.'

Hit the threshold, get the Lord's 'Hunting Tournament' quest. Periodic event where the Lord led knights and soldiers to cull nearby monsters—access to user-inaccessible fields, plus double EXP during the event.

Plus, the Lord's private hunting grounds crawled with multi-level mobs. Skilled users could farm endlessly. Even rearguard participation meant faster leveling than solos. The week-long tourney ended with bonus rewards based on kills, and stacking Radin Temple quests added contribution points. Triple win: levels, Sun Sword, gear swaps.

'Lucky ones snag titles too.'

Possible titles, or catch the Lord's eye for fat personal quests and growth here. All perks Vulcan had enjoyed before.

'But we never found why the rats swarmed.'

Dwelling on past glory briefly, Vulcan refocused ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the unsolved: the plague's source. Quest core.

They'd scoured sewers, fireballed rat holes with mage Copper, tried flooding with water magic. Nothing.

'This time's different.'

Now he had confidence. Dragon Eye.

"Aish. Again with this crap."

"Dude, pick that up? Gross."

"Quit lollygagging—slash away!"

As Vulcan's eyes gleamed, oblivious Vanguard rookies farmed rats, picking (then ditching) drops. Nothing worthwhile—just trash.

'As expected.'

Like Vulcan's old party. Rotten Flesh: inedible garbage that decayed further, inflicting disease debuffs if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠held long.

Unlucky info anyone would ignore.

'This is the cause.'

But Dragon Eye revealed more.

Rats would eat it, spreading disease and stacking potency—a vector.

'Not the whole story.'

Didn't explain everything. Vulcan had burned all such flesh before; sewers stayed plagued, rats respawned.

This was a byproduct; true source elsewhere.

'Hm?'

Then, something odd caught his eye.

A brighter glow than rotten flesh leaked from it.

'No way... I gotta pick this up?'

Filth lump? Shit pile, basically. But Dragon Eye pointed here—no choice.

'Ugh.'

He slipped away first. A tempting glow nearby, but another farther off. No need risking stealth here.

Out of sight, found another glowing lump, held his breath, grabbed it. Shook off filth in stinking water, scraped against wall, checked again.

Unappraised—needs shop or special NPC. But Vulcan knew instantly via Dragon Eye.

'Found it.'

Disgusting, but the answer. Plague Origin—camouflaged to evade priests. Hidden in filth, sealed to limit spread. No one would touch, wash, or inspect.

'Explains the rat plague.'

All mysteries solved: huge sizes, swarms, granary raids. Power seeped into sewage, affecting rats. Reduced secondary spread made insidious propagation easy—underground to fields.

System confirmed his hunch. This was the root—and proof of shady dealings in Raseu.

'Someone's targeting Raseu territory.'

Who? Why this slow-burn sewer scheme?

'Those guys again?'

—Could be. They can't strike fast; need something to shake humanity's foundations.

Vulcan thought of the 'black humans' first; Tud agreed. Demon King remnants plotting? Slow plague buildup to cripple the continent while regaining power for revival. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Plausible.

'Need more digging.'

No other traces yet—could be jealous rival lord eyeing fertile lands. Either way, Vulcan could exploit it. Plans already forming.

'And... this is usable.'

Didn't matter who; opportunity. Gain Lord and Radin Temple trust. And shove it to Vanguard—not just a prank, but shake their foundation.

'Make 'em wail.'

Mapping remaining Plague Origins, he glanced back at the rookies with a wicked grin, then turned to collect them swiftly.