Knowing Richtor’s crew would doubt him to the moon and back, Raine shared his new Ncode with each of them. They were left speechless when their interfaces pinged with a friend request from none other than 'The Alaric' from the system messages.

  Kevinsbakon—a once mighty, musclebound warrior now reduced to a lanky skin-and-bones nerd—was the first to regain his footing and mumble a response, “I-I read that it's not possible to share a name. Y-you’re the real deal. We were right… You were a beta tester!”

  The dam broke, and everyone spoke at once. “You guys were actually right about that?!” Richtor exclaimed, sounding like he’d inhaled a lungful of helium, “You cheating liar! All those tips you overheard, what a load of shit!”

  Raine took a deep breath, raising his hands for silence. “I'm not going to lie to you. I might have experienced something like this in the past… as for what that was.” Raine paused dramatically, then turned and walked away. Looking back over his shoulder, he pinned Celeste with narrowed eyes, “See, it's not that hard.”

  Grinding her teeth, she raced after him, “Fine! I get it. No more lying. Don’t have to rub in every little thing.”

  While observing their surroundings, Raine tutted loudly, “No, no, no. You're the stubborn type. There's no way you've learned your lesson from only this much.”

  Realizing Raine wouldn’t give them an honest answer about being a beta tester or come back, the others hustled to catch up. Minutes passed in silence as the group returned to the road. They trailed behind, staring at Raine's back, unsure how to puncture the heavy awkwardness. Rhino watched Raine with fresh paranoia, and Mel worried her lower lip.

  Fizgore caught up to him, not shy about striking up a conversation, “You’re really that Alaric guy?” Since Raine had yet to remove his bandit shroud around the man, it was no surprise he didn't know. Besides the girls, only Rhino was in on the secret before.

  “Disappointed?” Raine asked.

  “I don’t know. I would have been when we first met. After seeing what you can do, I guess not,” Fizgore rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, continuing with more confidence, “No, this is fine. I’m unsure why you included me in your speech, though. Did you want a contract from me as well?”

  Raine shrugged, “Only if you want to. I’ll take you at your word. If you promise not to betray me, I promise to show you the path forward in your martial journey. Whether you have the talent to earn a mental ability is up to fate.”

  Fizgore shot him a rare look of shock, “How did you—”

  “You confirmed my suspicions when you asked to train with the girls. You treated me as a fortuitous encounter, and I plan to return the favor. You’re strong and trustworthy, two things always in short supply. For as long as you’re willing, I’ll use you and be used in return.”

  Fizgore didn’t need long to consider his offer, nodding fiercely, “Alright, I can accept that. My service for your wisdom. From this moment forth, we are martial brothers, bound by honor and respect.”

  Overcome with enough emotion it had to be hidden with a deep frown, Raine reached out, and they firmly clasped wrists. Locking eyes with his one true confidant from the past, Raine gently corrected him, “My friendship for your friendship. Bound by honor and respect.” Fizgore clenched his jaw, nodding fiercely enough that his large afro wobbled threateningly.

  A group of level eleven raptors interrupted their moment, charging from around a curve in the narrow valley ahead. Not wanting to steal their SP, Raine invited Richtor to a raid group. When he accepted, all ten of their names appeared in a separate interface in everyone's HUDs. Raine promptly passed leadership of the raid to Richtor, then left.

  “You got this?” Raine called out.

  They didn’t reply with words, instead charging forward to display their progress since he left them at the valley of spiders. Celeste joined, eager to spill blood. Fizgore and Rhino hung back, observing their abilities alongside Raine.

  Mel approached him, tapping her pointer fingers together with pursed lips. She grumbled cutely, her words barely audible, “Fizzy might not want a contract, but I do.”

  As a beast screeched, run through by a heavy spear, Raine rested a palm atop her head, “I’m not avoiding you. I’ll give you what you want. But it will be what you actually want. Not the window dressing you came up with last time.”

  In the span of three seconds, she went from an overjoyed smile to a thoughtful frown. " What do I actually want?”

  “Yup. Think about the underlying reason you wanted that contract. Make sure you understand it fully. When we have time, explain it to me in-depth, then I’ll know how to word an agreement between the two of us.”

  Mel sighed, frustrated at having to wait. [Obviously, because I can’t stand the guilt of not telling you I can read your mind. Also, I really don’t want to lose you, or die, when you eventually find out.]

  Raine patted her head one more time. He smiled down at her, both gentle and knowing, “Whatever you just thought, ask yourself why. Whatever you come up with, ask why again, then again. Keep going until it's no longer possible to further distill your reasoning. For all things inside yourself, good or bad, that’s how you find the truth.”

  She frowned, her brows drawing down. [Why can’t I stand the guilt? Why don’t I want to lose him? Besides not dying… I can't tell him that, though. I need to come up with something else. Crud muffin, this is harder than I thought.]

  The fight was progressing smoothly enough that Raine didn’t feel the need to step in. Kevinsbakon bounced between the raptors, spearing them and cracking their heads with his shield enough to keep their attention on him. He then dodged desperately while Milkdud—now a five-foot-nothing gym bro instead of a seven-foot barbarian—shot at them with arrows. Deloralicious—lithe as a scarf—Lunged from beast to beast, poking them full of holes with two shortswords. TwistedReligion—even more effeminate than Delora—was in a contest against Celeste, each displaying opposing sides of what it meant to be a caster; one in melee, the other at range. The few hits Kevinsbakon took were healed by Richtor, and within a couple minutes, eight beasts lay unmoving on the ground while Raine’s allies caught their breath.

  Raine clapped once to gather their attention, “You’ve all grown. You’re on the right track. A few more days, and you’ll be capable of beating most class three martials.”

  “That can’t be right,” Richtor shook his head, nose crinkled, “Just because we’re getting better in a game, you think we can become class three martials?”

  “Beating, not becoming,” Raine clarified, pinching his thumb and pointer finger. “Your physical fitness is still lacking. That said, Kevin, why weren’t you dodging in a way that forced the raptors to attack each other? Milkdud, close the distance so you don’t shoot Delora in the back again. Just because you can hit from thirty meters doesn’t mean you should try to every time. Delora, great job not taking aggro. However, your job isn’t only to kill. If an ambush happens, it’ll be in the middle of a battle. Slightly lower DPS is an easy tradeoff for the whole group's safety.”

  “Wait, wait, wait, back up,” Richtor padded the air with his palms, “You haven’t been making any sense for a while now. I can’t wrap my head around it. You’re like a completely different person. I had that sense when we met last time, but it's worse now. So much worse. I mean, what makes you think we can beat actual martials?”

  “I’m not going to waste time trying to convince you. You’ll understand if you get into a fight outside ZL. Oh yeah, you guys owe me rent for the equipment I loaned you last time!” Raine relished in the drawn-out groans from Richtor’s group while holding out his hand.

  Deloralicious was the first to step forward, elbowing Richtor on the way by, “Great job, honey. Whether you believe it or not, this is definitely your bunghole of a brother.” She paid Raine his credits with a broken smile, returning the equipment he’d lent her.

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  The rest followed suit before Raine rounded the last bend in the valley. There, he saw the reason the raptors were running. The large group of independent players from before had caught up. They trundled down the road, deeper into the mountains.

  Perfect timing. We’re almost to the pincher. If Rising Endlessly is smart, they’ll have set up a checkpoint there to milk everyone trying to get to Vile Peak dry.

  TwistedReligion still had the same facial features as before, which now looked incredibly jarring on his whipcord-thin, nerd of a body. He raised a delicate hand, squirming excitedly, “What about me? What could I do better?”

  Raine rocked his head side-to-side, hemming and hawing, “It was nice not hearing you scream like a girl. Good thing, too, it's raptor mating season.” He flashed a thumbs up, and TwistedReligion’s hand fell slowly, his face a perfect parody of a stabbed man. Raine chuckled, “You did fine in a classic sense. If you want to be a top-tier caster, you’ll have to follow Celeste’s lead and get into the thick of it. I’ve already fought enemies that could teleport directly behind me in a heartbeat. If you don’t learn to handle that, you’ll spend plenty of time at the graveyard.”

  TwistedReligion’s shoulders slumped, “Seriously? That’s so crap! Getting hit freaking hurts, ya know?!” Raine nodded, well aware.

  Upon reaching the road, they waited for the large group to pass and then filed in behind them. A couple of girls giggled at Fizgore, eyeing his bare chest and sculpted physique. He waved back with a roguish smile. They squeezed through the crowd, “Hi there, you guys new?”

  Fizgore nodded, “New to this treacherous mountain path, but not to the winding valleys of blossoming roses.” He winked, earning another round of giggles.

  Raine rolled his eyes. Twenty years with the guy, and it still makes zero sense how he does that.

  Mel and Celeste hid an amused snort and eye-roll. [As if you're not worse than he is!]

  Fizgore's new fan club was utterly smitten by his charming voice despite not understanding a word he said. They leaned in conspiratorially. Raine’s boosted Physique easily picked out their whispers, “I hope you brought enough funds to make it through the pass. They’re charging two whole silver! We’ve been saving for a week.”

  The other girl elbowed the whisperer, who ‘accidentally’ fell against Fizgore’s chiseled abs. The poor girl fell silent with a furious blush. The pusher bit her lips to hold in a laugh, “You guys look strong, but I hope you’re not thinking of causing a scene. We ran into what was left of an army from DyingNight. I heard they lost fifty thousand players over the last week and still haven't broken through the pass.”

  Raine remembered seeing the remnants of DyingNight’s army traveling in the opposite direction a few hours ago. Their defeated expressions made more sense now. He wasn’t surprised they lost. Rising Endlessly wasn’t some makeshift guild put together by a random corporation. They were a subsidiary of The Phoenix Clan—a mega-powerful real-world clan that owned enough land and assets to be its own country. They churned out a shiny new martial master every other year while having their fingers deep into every financial pot in the United Territories of Amanath. Additionally, the Tafells—the Phoenix Clan's ruling family, was fathered by a bona fide Old Monster—a transcendental being of legend. Those inhuman demi-gods were rumored to be immortal, and no child made it through primary school without seeing the footage of them wiping out entire armies of AI-powered robots with the wave of a hand.

  Fizgore wrapped an arm around each girls’ shoulder. Knowing where the conversation was about to take a sharp turn, Raine tuned them out. Over the next hour, he pulled each party member aside and shared more specific combat tips. Each time was an eye-opening experience that had them questioning if he was really the overweight guy they knew from the outside world.

  About an hour from Vile Peak Town, the procession came to a halt. Raine Leaped high into the air. He expected Rising Endlessly to be in control of the narrow valley ahead with force of arms. Instead, he was met by a five-meter-tall wall of heavy logs bound by thick metal strips. A line two deep of archers and casters stood atop it with weapons drawn.

  Raine recognized the construction as one requiring the combined efforts of engineers, woodworkers, and the blacksmithing profession. Due to its complexity and materials, its durability was well over a hundred thousand. While he could destroy it, the effort would give the players above ample time to whittle down his health.

  Shouldn’t be surprised the subsidiary of a superguild already discovered how useful crafters are. Most of those players are above level ten, not to mention being officially trained disciples of real dojos. This won’t be nearly as easy as picking on Righteous.

  Raine landed and addressed the group in a serious tone, “Stay together and work your way to the front.” He didn’t wait for confirmation and Leaped again.

  Three Lunges brought him over the heads of the independent players. Gasps and shouts followed him. He landed at the front, drawing a few eyes. Most of the attention remained glued to the five leaders of the independents, who had already separated from the group and were nearing the wall. A thick metal door wide enough to fit two wagons creaked open just enough for a slim man to slide out.

  Gee, I wonder what they're hiding. These guys sure know how to underestimate people’s intelligence.

  The door shut behind the slim man. He glanced over the large group, his lip pulling back in disgust. Muttering to himself, he adopted a patient expression and approached the leaders. His chin was thrust high as if to avoid a foul odor. The nasally voice that filled their ears held more than a hint of derision, ”So long as you’re not affiliated with a guild, passage is five silver per head.”

  One of the leaders—a woman wearing leather armor—raised her fist, shouting, “We were told the fee was only two silver!” Word quickly spread through the crowd, hundreds of grumbled voices containing the same anger.

  The thin man scoffed, the thin veneer of civility slipping, “I’m only following orders. The road beyond this point is heavily patrolled by our glorious Rising Endlessly, guaranteeing you’ll reach Vile Peak Town without restarting your journey from whatever cesspit you crawled out of. Providing such a grand service does not come cheap.”

  “We’re willing to pay!” an older man bargained. "However, we were told the fee was two silver, and that’s what we prepared. Is there truly no room in your hearts for leniency?”

  The thin man sighed dramatically, then made a show of tapping at the air as though he were sending a message. Several tense seconds passed before he shook his head sadly, “Unfortunately, Master Damien Tafell is unwilling to negotiate with non-members.” His straight back and puffed chest made it clear he felt he’d done the feces of society a monumental favor by bothering his master over such a petty detail and that they should be showering him with praise for his efforts.

  When the expected applause failed to manifest, he lifted his lip again, then raised his voice until it echoed from the high cliffs on either side of the valley, “Those willing to join one of Rising Endlessly’s subsidiary guilds can waive the fee entirely! Alternatively, signing a timed service contract will allow you to pass for the previously announced two silver fee!”

  Same old recruitment strategies. It has slightly more credibility with the wall and putting on that show of pretending to communicate with Damien. Nice touch sending out this douchenozzle. He’s bound to start a few fights, and with what’s waiting on the other side of that wall, they must be making a killing in equipment donations.

  The crowd exploded into murmurs as individual groups tried to decide how to proceed. Staying in the lower-level starting zones indefinitely wasn’t an option. With the war on pause, they had a brief window of opportunity to escape before Righteous and DyingNight refocused all their considerable resources on recruitment. On the other hand, the monsters they’d been killing dropped, on average, less than a single copper; the price of five silver was equivalent to the funds from eight or nine hundred kills, depending on luck.

  While wondering the best way to proceed, Raine realized the only reason Rising Endlessly was in Vile Peak Town was to keep Talerra’s guild from monopolizing the Devil’s Defiance Dungeon he’d posted a guide for. This meant her people should also be in the town, and likely, both parties were viciously ambushing each other's groups whenever they left the dungeon.

  Such competition inevitably bred opportunity for the daring mercenary. In good spirits, Raine sent a message to SolemnRiver, “Is it going to cause problems for the competition if I kill a few of your cousin’s men?”

  Surprisingly, she responded straight away, “My cousin? You know who I am?!”

  Raine had completely forgotten that she created an ugly avatar on purpose to hide her identity. Since the milk was already spilled, he rolled with it, “You used the Ghost Step right in front of me. It wasn’t exactly difficult to put the pieces together. I’m at the border of Damien’s territory right now. I don’t mind playing nice with him if that’s what you want…”

  She took considerably longer composing the following message, “Define ‘kill a few.’”

  Raine smirked, knowing she had already taken the bait, “Depends on how many he has stationed at Vile Peak Town.”

  She supplied the information he lacked: “Twenty thousand. It's not an issue. Since you’re there, I’ll pay a thousand credits for each confirmed kill.”

  “Alright,” Raine was just signing the contract she sent when the rest of his party pushed through the throng. He motioned them to follow, then boldly strode toward the gate. The thin man raised a hand, “Fifty silver for the ten of you.”

  “Sure thing,” Raine accessed his inventory, transferring the requested funds.

  With a wave of his hand, the door creaked ominously, opening enough for them to enter one at a time. The thin man stepped aside with a slick smile, and Raine pushed through the tight space, his allies right behind him. Beyond the wall, they were greeted by nearly a thousand players. The lowest was level thirteen.

  Expecting an ambush, Richtor spat, grip tightening on his wand, “Really rolling out the red carpet, aren't they?”

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