The Shadow Duke of Falcon (Part 2)

Although they had not achieved true intimacy, Sanghyuk was thoroughly satisfied with the time he had spent with Ilia. Her silhouette was more flawless than that of any supermodel back in the real world, and her features were breathtaking enough to bring even the fairest elf to tears. For a brief while, Sanghyuk felt as though he had wandered into paradise.

Thoroughly refreshed from their encounter, Sanghyuk stepped out of the Rainbow and began tallying the spoils he had earned from completing the quest.

A Half-Elf... Sanghyuk mused with a quiet smirk. No wonder she was so stunning.

By nature, elves stood at the very pinnacle of mortal beauty. Among them, Half-Elves born between humans and elves were famed across the realms for possessing a radiant allure that surpassed even pureblooded elves. An NPC whose true power had been sealed was an intriguing curiosity; he hadn't realized such a mechanic existed. In his past life, Sanghyuk had kept his distance from NPCs, knowing only what secondhand tavern rumors and message boards had whispered.

Next, he examined the weapon.

Whoa... How in the world is this classified as Rare?

Sanghyuk's jaw nearly dropped as he skimmed down the blade's profile. Was it because it was a set piece with a triple-plus quality bonus? Even without the pluses, the innate attributes outperformed most Unique-grade arms. On top of that, the randomly rolled bonus attributes had landed on three consecutive Agility procs—a coveted triple Agility critical.

It was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a stroke of absurdly good fortune. Such seamless synergy almost never occurred under normal circumstances. An item drenched entirely in Agility stats suited Sanghyuk's combat style down to the bone.

I suppose it couldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be anything less, considering it's the sacred insignia of the Secret Line Master, he thought, nodding slowly as he stowed the paired daggers into his inventory.

Now, only one reward remained—the one he anticipated most eagerly. The special title: Shadow Duke of Falcon.

"Incredible..."

He had kept his expectations high ever since seeing the 'Special' tag, but the actual benefits blew past his hopes. The Special tier sat outside the orthodox boundaries of Rare, Unique, or Legendary. Such items or titles possessed idiosyncratic mechanics that defied conventional appraisal; in the eyes of top-tier veterans, Special was frequently treated as comparable—and occasionally superior—to Legendary.

It doesn't grant direct combat stats, but its utility is practically bottomless.

Others might have lamented the lack of raw attack power, but Sanghyuk recognized the title's terrifying worth at a single glance. Erasing his presence, fabricating entire identities, and boosting all baseline NPC affinity directly to 'Close' was a game-changing advantage that gold could never buy.

The harvest from this quest isn't just high tier—it's absolute perfection. It couldn't possibly be any better.

A triumphant smile spread across his face. Many of the strategic masterstrokes he had planned following his regression relied on orchestrating ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠connections with pivotal NPCs. A blanket baseline of 'Close' affinity simplified those future negotiations immensely.

Now, what about the Secret Line itself? How do I actually command it?

Wanting to inspect the full extent of his newly acquired network, Sanghyuk pulled open the organization administration panel.

Browsing the interface gave Sanghyuk a clearer grasp of the syndicate's framework.

So even as the Master, I can't wield the network with reckless abandon just yet. But as my organizational control rises, these guild skills will level up and expand. That'll smooth things out considerably.

A recall skill was a common feature of established organizations, so he didn't dwell on it. What mattered were the remaining three: intelligence browsing, intelligence gathering, and information manipulation.

That's enough inspecting for now.

Closing the interface, Sanghyuk slipped into a secluded alleyway devoid of foot traffic and slotted the suffix of his new title: Shadow Duke of Falcon.

An intricate appearance configuration window immediately flickered into view.

The system allowed him to sculpt a customized persona, save it into an empty preset slot, and assume that guise whenever he pleased. Naturally, the morphing was tethered to a realistic ratio of approximately ±1.3 times his original dimensions; absurd transformations—like shifting into an eight-foot titan or a knee-high gnome—were strictly prohibited.

Currently, Sanghyuk's in-game avatar matched his real-world body almost identically. New World built every player's baseline character from their real biometric profile upon initial login, though generous slider adjustments allowed unattractive players to emerge as dashing champions. Sanghyuk had never cared much for superficial vanity, so he had left his avatar largely untouched.

He stood at 183 centimeters and weighed 77 kilograms. Under the system's constraints, he could stretch his height to roughly 230 centimeters or compress it down to 130 centimeters. His weight could scale up to 100 kilograms or drop as low as 55 kilograms. Hair color, beard length, facial contours, and even skin tone could be fine-tuned down to the millimeter.

With such leeway, he could easily construct an identity utterly divorced from his true self.

I had considered learning the basic Polymorph skill down the road if I had spare skill points... but this blows Polymorph right out of the water.

Satisfied, Sanghyuk began crafting his very first disguise. He dialed his height down to 165 centimeters while maintaining his general build. He let his hair grow slightly shaggy, coaxed out a scruffy, unkempt beard, and shifted his complexion a shade paler.

When the sliders settled, a remarkably unremarkable player stood reflected in the preview glass.

Let's register this as Slot 1: 'Ordinary Joe.' I'll save the other six for later.

It was a moniker that perfectly suited a face that could vanish into any crowd without drawing a second glance.

It would've been even better if it let me mask my player handle... but nobody can see my name unless I openly disclose it anyway, so it hardly matters.

Now disguised as Ordinary Joe, Sanghyuk went about his business throughout Falcon City. His sudden transformation left a certain pack of players thoroughly stranded in the wind: the hunting hounds of Magun.

They had been scouring the city for him for over a month. In the beginning, Sanghyuk had holed up inside the Wyvern's Nest without taking a single step outside, leaving them chasing ghosts. Later, when he traversed the avenues completing the Five Trials of the Shadow over the span of five days, an eagle-eyed Magun scout had finally spotted him and rushed to alert Killing Machine.

Yet by the time Killing Machine sprinted to the scene, Sanghyuk had already shifted into the mundane guise of Ordinary Joe.

No matter how fiercely they tore through Falcon City with blood in their eyes, they would never find him. Outside of intense combat training, Sanghyuk intended to walk the city streets exclusively in this unassuming form.

Polymorph really doesn't hold a candle to this, Sanghyuk chuckled inwardly. Standard transformation magic dissolves the moment you enter combat. This title carries a heavy stat penalty, but the illusion doesn't break. It's unmatched.

The more he weighed its utility, the more enamored he became with the suffix effect of the Shadow Duke of Falcon.

Lounging on the open terrace of the Twilight Inn with a frosty beverage in hand, Sanghyuk closed his floating browser window and pushed back his chair.

With this, I've checked off every single milestone I set for the Twilight Lands. Time to shift focus entirely toward conquering the Giant's Cave.

Yet before that thought could fully settle, the air was shattered.

"Sprint straight for the inner castle! Don't stop for anything!"

A massive throng of players suddenly swarmed past the front gates of the Twilight Inn. At a glance, the charging horde numbered in the hundreds, surging through the broad boulevard in a stampede toward Falcon City's inner citadel.

"W-What the hell is going on?"

"Wait, isn't that the Lightning Guild?"

"I see Pentakill banners too! Hold on, Ping Guild is in there as well!"

The patrons lounging inside the Twilight Inn leaped to their feet, staring through the windows in stunned disbelief as the army stormed past.

What are they doing? Why rush the inner castle all of a sudden...?

Sanghyuk paused, the gears turning in his mind. Then, his eyes widened.

Wait... Today is... Bloody Monday!

A forgotten memory surged to the forefront of his mind.

In my past life, I was sweating blood grinding orcs out in the Orc Forest when this went down... But in this life, I get to witness this historic catastrophe firsthand.

Today was indeed a Monday. But by nightfall, it would be forever remembered as Bloody Monday.

The incident was simple enough: Falcon City was about to drown in blood. Naturally, New World did not display visceral gore, but a torrential blizzard of luminescent soul particles was about to flood the flagstones.

The vanguard charging toward the citadel was a coalition of six prominent guilds. Every one of them commanded considerable prestige, yet out of sheer arrogance—or sheer delusion—they had banded together to conquer Falcon City.

The inner castle was an off-limits sanctuary that ordinary players were strictly forbidden from entering. Occasionally, someone holding a specialized quest might step inside for a brief audience, only to be escorted straight back out. Because of its impenetrable nature, the citadel had become an object of boundless fantasy for the player base. Rumors ran rampant that the keep was packed with unimaginable riches, fanning the flames of greed across every forum.

As rumors traveled from mouth to mouth, they grew grander, more vivid, and far more detailed. With no one around to dispute the claims, whispers transformed into unshakeable gospel over time. The six-guild coalition had bought into the fable hook, line, and sinker.

They believed that because New World boasted boundless freedom, seizing the inner castle by brute force would allow them to claim the legendary vault within. The primary catalyst for their reckless confidence was the perceived weakness of Falcon City's garrison.

During the opening weeks of the official launch, city guards were untouchable juggernauts to novice players. Yet once players crossed the Level 40 threshold, the guards ceased looking so invincible. While besting one in a duel remained difficult, two or three Level 40 players working in tandem could easily hold their own. In fact, reports had already cropped up of high-level Outlaw players slaying isolated guards and slipping away into the wild.

Emboldened by these skirmishes, the guilds began looking down on Falcon City's defense forces, culminating in this very catastrophe.

Over four hundred and fifty combatants had mobilized, sweeping toward the inner castle in a single overwhelming push. They were utterly convinced that with such overwhelming numbers, taking the keep and looting the royal vaults would be child's play.

The second their boots touch the courtyard, they'll learn what a pathetic delusion they've bought into, Sanghyuk thought, cold amusement flashing in his eyes. The moment Gale Parayan, the Level 100 Master Knight and Supreme Commander of the Typhoon Knights, draws his lance, they'll be swept away like autumn leaves in a gale.

As he pictured four ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hundred and fifty overconfident players being fed into the meat grinder that was Gale Parayan, a sudden spark of realization hit him like a lightning bolt.

Wait... If four hundred and fifty elite players are about to get wiped out in the courtyard... that means an unprecedented item festival is about to drop inside the castle!

The moment the calculation clicked, Sanghyuk sprinted out of the inn, tailing the charging army toward the citadel. To let an opportunity of this magnitude slip past would be nothing short of a crime.