The Perfect Frame-Up
BOOM!!
"Wh-what the hell?!"
"Over there!!"
The thunderous crash echoing through the sewers threw the Vanguard guild rookies into total panic. Aside from the endless swarms of rats up to that point, nothing out of the ordinary had happened in ages—and no one but them had set foot in this place. It was hard to process the sudden change.
Naturally, all eyes turned toward the source of the noise, and they clustered together to move as one. With a hint of excitement, no less. In this reeking, monotonous hellhole, any new development was something to welcome.
"Whoa! The wall's collapsed over there?"
"Hold up. Something's there!"
At the epicenter of the commotion where everyone rushed, a horde of rats had scattered in alarm, and a single gem lay amid the filth.
"A suspicious gem? Unidentified, Uncommon grade?"
"That means at least Rare, right?"
An unidentified Uncommon-grade item. Its true nature was unknown, but experience told them that anything showing Uncommon while unidentified was very likely Rare or higher. For these guys grinding away in this filthy pit just to grow fast out of necessity, their eyes lit up.
If this turned out to be the linked quest for the sewer cleanup no one had supposedly found, they could bail from this place in one shot. Hell, they might even catch the lord's eye and snag a decent seat at the hunting tournament—not the nosebleeds in the back.
"Huh? Am I imagining it? My body's kinda shivering."
"You get bit by a rat pup? Status effects happen sometimes. They're filthy little bastards."
"Maybe. Anyway, what do we do with this?"
"Grab it and let's get outta here. We've nearly hit our quota for today, so appraise it first. Who knows? Might skyrocket our rep and contributions. Heh heh heh heh!"
The player who snatched up the suspicious gem sensed something off with his body but shook it off since it wasn't full-blown symptoms yet. He was too pumped about the item's identity—and whatever rewards it might bring.
'This is the last one.'
Meanwhile, a black shadow slipped through the darkness from the spot they'd vacated, scooping up a lump of muck.
Vulcan had secured the final Plague Origin.
He'd handed one unsealed Plague Origin to those fools, but he could recover it soon enough, so no big deal.
'Time to go, then?'
Now came the critical part: time.
Like it was a speedrun, Vulcan bolted out of the sewers. Once clear of watchful eyes, he dropped Shadow Assimilation and dashed straight for Radin Temple.
His stench nearly got him barred at the entrance, but his solid favor with them let him meet Bishop Shairun without issue.
"This was really in the sewers?"
"Yes. Hidden amid the filth."
"If this was submerged in the water, your hunch is spot on."
"All thanks to Lord Radin's guidance."
Shairun kept a distance due to Vulcan's odor but lit up at the sight of the Plague Origin. Vulcan even unsealed it right there to demonstrate, making its danger crystal clear.
The core was a potent disease aura, but the embedded curse of propagation had massive infectious potential—something Shairun knew better than anyone.
"Hear me, all temple knights! Assemble every priest and knight at once. Those ready, head into the sewers and hunt traces of this evil horde! I will join you!!"
His decision was swift. He'd lead every Radin priest in a direct sewer sweep.
Normally, he'd delegate and stay clear, but this was too grave. Beyond Radin's honor, if Vulcan's theory held and it tainted crops, not just Raseu but everyone on the continent eating those grains would suffer. Immediate, large-scale action was essential.
"And one more thing..."
"What? No time—unless it's vital, save it."
Shairun's grim expression sharpened his tone, but Vulcan didn't flinch. He'd anticipated this—and knew it made his words land harder.
"Before coming here, I saw some guys in the sewers with one of these. I only saw them unseal and reveal it because I was hiding and watching."
"What?! You just let them go?"
"My apologies. I should've dealt with them, but there were too many, and I lacked the power."
"Hmph. No. If you could've, you would have. Where are they now? Still in the sewers?"
Shairun bought Vulcan's groveling act completely. With their built-up trust and the urgency, he couldn't overthink or doubt. Plus, they could interrogate the suspects to verify.
"Not sure. But they were Immortals, so..."
Vulcan exploited that trust, spinning his tale. His long-honed silver tongue with NPCs shone here.
"Tch. Even if it stinks like hell, turning down NPC gold?"
"Can't be helped. I'd run too if someone reeking like that approached."
"Wash up quick as we can and regroup. Think the general store'll appraise it?"
"If not, we'll hit the mage guild or temple. No choice. Anyway... Huh?"
The Vanguard rookies who'd snagged the suspicious gem and escaped the sewers headed straight for the general store to appraise it—but got turned away at the door.
Having holed up in the sewers until the next hunting tournament, their bodies reeked with a deep, stubborn stench no quick rinse could fix.
It happened daily, but desperation led to the slip-up. Plus, they hadn't lingered as long today, so they'd hoped.
"Someone's coming this way?"
At least the inn's bath reset the smell via system magic—or they'd have to stock consumables and let it fade naturally. Nearby NPCs and players were already wrinkling noses and backing off, so they hurried to their rooms to wash up.
That's when a mob of NPCs flooded their inn: standard village guards plus what looked like Radin priests. Hard to ignore.
Such gatherings meant an event trigger. The rookies paused, weighing a quick wash then joining versus peeking the details out of curiosity.
"There they are!"
A soldier who'd rushed in, scanning wildly, spotted and shouted at them—pointing directly. This event clearly involved them deeply.
"What? They're coming right for us?"
"This scale screams big event."
"Jackpot, sweet!"
Smiles spread across their faces. Only one reason for this: the gem. No more store-hopping.
They descended a step in glee—then Bishop Shairun burst in, pinching his nose and scowling as he pointed again.
"Those are the ones. Seize them! They're Immortals—capture, don't kill!!"
"......What?!"
Arrest order.
The Radin priests charged before the still leaderless soldiers, eager to claim the credit.
"You crazy bastards?!"
"D-don't resist! Mess this up and we're fucked!!"
Subduing them was easy. The stench gave pause, but with the bishop's command, the priests unleashed holy power without hesitation—channeling their disgust into the blows.
Vulcan watched from behind the NPCs, smirking wickedly.
'Too late now, you idiots.'
Clueless as they were, their response was textbook: no resistance to avoid trouble. They took holy-infused punches without retaliating, submitting meekly.
Misunderstanding could be cleared, but injuring a soldier or priest? Instant guilt.
Weak nobles or sects they could've bullied with guild muscle—but Raseu Count, lord of the vast granary lands, and Radin's priests were beyond them. Even New Age Guild, top rankers, and big guilds only cozied up to high nobles, never overpowering them.
'You're already caught in the act.'
- Damn, pinning it all on them. They're done for.
But sadly, no chance to clear the misunderstanding. Vulcan had ensured that.
He'd told Bishop Shairun about the "Plague Origin carriers"—or rather, "those polluting the plains and spreading plague to the domain's people."
Shairun mobilized the temple to hunt them and reported directly to the lord—aligning stories so it was all Radin's revelation merit. He didn't forget Vulcan's proxy role, naturally.
The furious lord mobilized every soldier and knight in the domain. And personally marched to capture them.
"These the ones? Daring to pollute my lands and plague my people, you filthy dogs."
Raseu's grains fed the continent. Trouble in the granary heartland? And it sickens consumers? Horrific.
Not some noble justice. Those crops were Raseu Count's power base in court. Threatening that? Unforgivable.
Worse, tagged as plague vectors? His influence crumbles—king might seize the domain. Other black-hearted nobles would pounce. He'd die first before letting that happen.
"A-a misunderstanding!"
"Plague? We don't know anything—?!"
Thud.
"My head's suddenly... my stomach... Blegh!!"
"!!"
The lord's rage-roar prompted their pleas—but a nearby civilian NPC paled and collapsed, red spots blooming on his face.
"Everyone, back off!"
They carried an unsealed Plague Origin. Its curse spread potent disease aura everywhere—not just the inn, but NPCs along their path were showing symptoms.
Players resisted better, not fully infected yet—but fragile civilians worsened fast, gasping.
"Highly contagious! Fall back! We'll handle this!!"
"Such vile...!"
Thankfully, Vulcan had supplied disease-cure potions beforehand. Once weakened, holy power could finish the job—Shairun seized the chance to boost the temple's cred.
"Bishop Shairun, handle it. I'll interrogate them personally—take 'em to the castle!"
The fierce plague aura forced even the lord back. Aware of infection risk, he feared but raged on, demanding firm suppression.
The personal threat only fueled his fury.
"Guild members. There's a mastermind behind them."
- Oh ho? That was his angle?
Vulcan, peeking from behind Shairun, dropped the line loud enough for the lord.
It sparked the thought in the lord's rage-blinded mind.
"Indeed. Guild Immortals are loyal. They throw themselves at danger since they don't stay dead. Round up every Immortal in their guild now! I'll tear apart every last one involved in this unforgivable atrocity!!"
"No way...!"
Thus, arrows flew not just at them—but all of Vanguard Guild.
Guilt or not, they were accomplices or pawns. The rookies gaped in injustice but couldn't retort.
Polluted land, plague? News to them. But fact: they'd spread it live in town. Intent irrelevant—once confirmed, their words rang hollow.
Only brutal interrogation and the lord's wrath remained.
'One step away now.'
A mere count's fury—but one gripping the continent's food supply. Vanguard's doom was sealed.
They'd dodge his wrath until disbanded—or after.
'I'll rip you apart limb from limb.'
Third-string for New Age Guild, but allies would cut ties fast. No one wants the fallout.
Vulcan had fired the true opening shot of revenge.
He'd figured it'd take time for full payback—but opportunity? Bite hard.
New Age could rebuild and absorb similar guilds easily. Whatever—he was just starting too.
His long-suppressed vengeance reignited.