How Did You Get In Here?
"What brings you here—or rather, how the hell did you get in?"
Vulcan was currently in the forge inside the lord's castle. He didn't exclusively use blacksmithing skills, but for convenience, he'd gathered the necessary materials here and was processing them in bulk. And this place was off-limits by the lord's direct order.
The lord's castle itself wasn't somewhere just anyone could wander into, so for someone to sneak into a restricted area under the lord's decree? Naturally, Vulcan was on high alert. There was no way this could be purely friendly intentions.
"Sorry for startling you. I wanted to talk, so I dropped by unannounced. You move around so unpredictably that I figured waiting around would just mean missing each other again."
The man approached with a smile, but Vulcan didn't miss the sharp edge in his words. Again. And the fact that Vulcan moved unpredictably. Only a select few could make those kinds of remarks.
"So you're with Vanguard."
"Whoa, easy there. Dropping that name here could get messy. Put that away. I'm from here." He casually brushed back his cloak, tapping the emblem revealed beneath.
Vulcan's demeanor grew even colder at the sight. He recognized that symbol all too well.
"Knights Guild. Bigger fish than I expected."
Knights Guild. They were New Age's second-string guild, acting like overlords to Vanguard. It made sense—Vanguard players who leveled up and proved themselves often transferred over, so "overlords" wasn't far off.
And that meant they were here to pin the blame for Vanguard's dissolution on him.
Can I stall for time?
Vulcan hesitated. Yelling would summon soldiers and knights, buying him immediate safety. But could he fully neutralize this guy? The count's knights were early-to-mid 300s level, decent but money-motivated hires a cut below the elite. This intruder? At least mid-300s, and given he'd infiltrated alone while knowing Vulcan could call for help, maybe even late-300s executive material.
If he's not alone, escape won't be easy. As long as I don't get caught...
At just level 149, could he even hold the guy off? Sweat beaded down his back. He'd grown cocky, thinking he was strong now—no attack skills, sure, but way tougher than his pre-forced-reclass scrub self. That arrogance deflated fast. To get revenge on these stronger foes, he needed to grow much stronger. This guy was just a lackey.
"Haha, not that big a deal. Not compared to the once-famous Vulcan, right?"
The man tossed another loaded remark at the tense Vulcan, voice low and probing like he knew Vulcan's identity.
"Huh? What do you mean by that?"
Vulcan wasn't dumb enough to fall for the leading question. Same name? Just fishing. He blinked innocently, playing dumb.
"Blowing up Vanguard—was that revenge against them?"
"Hmph. Seems you know it all, so I'll confirm: yeah, I'm tied to the Vanguard mess. But it was kill or be killed. They and Napas Guild were hunting me."
"Kill or be killed?"
The guy pressed on undeterred, but Vulcan doubled down, mixing truth and lies to sow confusion. The man's expression shifted. Same name in a game allowing duplicates? Not solid proof.
"Mind if I verify?"
"Go ahead. Want a screenshot? No clue what misunderstanding this is, but as long as you're not here to assassinate me, I'll cooperate fully."
"Nah, I'm a thief class. Perfect timing—Discern."
Vulcan's persistent innocence and surprising compliance threw the man off. Screenshots could be faked, so he used his thief skill to scan.
Yep. Nope.
That's all the guy would see. Vulcan smirked inwardly. Even high-rank Discern on another player gave bare basics—no class grade shown. Dragon Eye was different, of course.
Molton. Level 351, Rare thief class Dark Visitor...
While Molton frowned at the skimpy info, Vulcan peered deep: name, job, class, stats, skills—all laid bare by Dragon Eye.
"Sorry about that. There's a nasty player with the same name, so I got paranoid and overstepped."
"No worries. So... no assassination?"
Oblivious, Molton ruled out a match. If he'd known old Vulcan well, maybe the face would've rung bells—but Vulcan's hairstyle, build, and muscles had bulked up from all-in STR investment. No way to link the terrified actor to that slippery ghost. Guild report would clear him, and someone would regret it later.
"Don't sweat it. You know Knights Guild, so straight talk: two things. First, the hit you feared. We're Vanguard's superiors, and normally, yeah, you'd be marked for deletion after wiping our useful pawns. But this? We call it an accident. No punishment for you."
Silly for players to talk "punishment," but they had the muscle. Probably feared backlash if they poked Vulcan and unraveled their Vanguard scapegoat. Either way, direct or indirect pressure was off. Good news—but he wasn't done.
Vulcan listened stone-faced as the unexpected followed.
"Second... you started recently, but your growth is insane. That's why I'm here: scout offer. Join Knights. Full support—leveling, skill ranks. Ready for more? We'll arrange a top-tier transfer."
Recruitment. Scout from Knights.
Join them? I'd bite my tongue and log off first.
No way Vulcan would bow gratefully with that grudge. The hit mention first? Show mercy, apply pressure. But he had a ready answer.
"An invite from Knights? Honored, but I can't."
"Reason?"
"Yeah. My job quest bars joining groups. Turned down Radin Temple and Lord Raseu Count for the same reason. Kills me."
—When did I say that? You keep selling me out—gimme chocolate or—
Quiet! Just a sec!
"Job quest?"
Job quests were every player's top priority. Skip others? Penalty and done. Fail a job quest? Growth stalled forever.
Perfect cover for Vulcan: rejected Raseu's offer, got Radin's blessing. Dig deeper? Roona and Kabura too—but no need. God's direct blessing without joining? Credible.
Molton couldn't push. Unfixable job quest clause? Not their problem.
"Fair enough... can't argue."
"Cool. If the restriction lifts, can I hit you up?"
"Absolutely. Friend add?"
"Can't even do that... I'll visit Knights HQ later."
Friend adds tracked rough locations. No tracking bait—job quest excuse again.
"Got it. Last thing... return the item."
"Item?"
"The Blizzard Staff you got. Legit acquisition, so fair price. Refuse? We have our ways."
"Blizzard Staff?"
Out of left field. Forgotten amid Vanguard's wipe, but apparently upper guilds wanted it too—with threats.
Hand it over or risk another hit.
"Yes. PK—PKK, technically. Never hit auction house, so you have it."
Monitoring auctions? Vulcan schemed as Molton pressed.
"This is awkward."
"Not handing it over...?"
"Should've kept it if you're paying well."
"...Pardon?"
Molton blinked; Vulcan sighed regretfully.
"Gave it to Lord Raseu Count. Boosted my contributions, got a noble title."
"Noble... title?"
No fanfare ceremony, so they didn't know about Honorary Baron. Easy to verify, though.
Your move.
Couldn't confirm if true or if the count hid it, but a level 149 craftsman as baron? Near impossible without massive feats. Bribery fit—rare items like that spiked contributions. Count must've valued it.
"If you're lying... you'll pay."
"Why lie? Traded for the title quick."
Molton's eyes narrowed. Raseu faction opposed their noble backers.
"Understood. We'll head out."
Molton left empty-handed, stuck probing Raseu on the staff.
"Bought some time, at least."
Digging might expose the lie. Vulcan needed fast growth—to a level they couldn't touch.
Minimum 200. Then I'm safe.
Level 200: craft 300s gear. Allies would shield him. New Age was top dog, but rivals existed. Partnerships or mercenary hires (pricey, but doable) would deter. They wouldn't go all-in anyway.
Mercs as guards/leveling help? Fine. Payment? No sweat once cranking Rare+ 300s gear.
Money, money, money. Thought I just needed to earn—now spending too.
Prepping: buy Kuzar ores, skill-up materials. Earnings good, but liquid cash low. Ironic.
Not in the red. Silver lining.
Soon solvable. Minimal costs despite reset and rapid growth? Comforting. Vulcan hammered on.
Wanted to bolt to Smell—Tud harped on it—but tasks remained. Finish commissions, repair soldiers' gear for Architecture and Item Master proficiency.
Architecture and Repair ranks up—huge wins. All deliveries done, rewards pocketed, Vulcan left Raseu light-hearted for Smell, the fifth city and artisans' hub.
"What's in Smell? Artisans' city, sure... but I don't need their teachings."
—Of course. Hughes Forge is the real deal—Smell's just a pit stop.
Tud smirked chocolate-smeared, fielding the sudden question.
—But that's not why. Know how Smell started?
"Smell's origin? Uh..."
—Land and water routes converge, sure. But artisans flock 'cause one of this body's workshops is there.
"What?!"
Vulcan's eyes lit up. Second legacy after Shnell—waiting.