"Orin, can you chop these vegetables for me? I need to marinate the meat," Elena called over her shoulder, her hands already deep in a bowl of seasonings, rubbing them into thick cuts of meat.

  "Hold on, I'm still washing the beetroots. Mister Gwydion, lend us a hand instead!" Orin shot back, her sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed the stubborn red stains off her hands.

  Meanwhile, Darwyn struggled to push himself upright, a grimace flashing across his face. Though the stab wound in his chest had healed, his body hadn’t fully recovered. The memory of the close-range Sticky Bomb explosion still lingered in his stiff, aching muscles.

  ***

  Beyond the door, faint noises of movement reached my ears, mingling with the rich, savory aroma of something sizzling. My stomach clenched, empty and desperate, a deep growl rumbling through me like a beast awakened from hibernation.

  As my mind clawed its way back to awareness, a thousand questions flooded in at once. "How long have I been out? Where am I? What happened? Are Darwyn and Elena alright?"

  Ignoring the dull ache coursing through my limbs—especially the throbbing pain in my left arm—I forced myself up. My movements were sluggish, every muscle stiff and uncooperative. Gritting my teeth, I reached for the door, pushing it open just enough to peek inside.

  "Oh? Look who's finally up," Elena greeted with a warm, knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

  "Eryndoor! You're awake! Thank God!" Orin gasped, immediately abandoning her vegetables and rushing over with boundless energy.

  "I knew it. Our mighty druid, the infamous 'Head Crusher,' always bounces back fast," Darwyn teased, leaning against the wall with a smirk, though the weariness in his posture betrayed him.

  "Wait, wait! How long was I out? What happened? Give me the full story," I demanded, rubbing my temples, still trying to shake off the lingering fog.

  Two whole days. That was how long I had been unconscious.

  Orin wasted no time launching into the details. Back at Gloomspire Hollow, she and Darwyn had grown restless when Elena and I failed to return. Anxiety mounting, Darwyn made the call to go back and check, while Orin stayed behind to tend to Muradin and keep the potion production going. With the aid of her Mana Surge, she managed to brew enough healing potions to drag Muradin back from the brink of death.

  Once he was stable, she couldn't wait any longer. She set out to find Darwyn, preparing herself for the worst. She hadn't gone far before she stumbled upon a horrific sight—Elena covered in blood, Darwyn barely alive, his chest punctured by a stab wound, his entire body seared with burns. And me? I was sprawled out near a dead enemy, the corpse stripped to nothing but undergarments, my broken scepter still embedded in its skull.

  Out of all of us, I had taken the worst beating. My left arm had been nearly severed, a deep wound gaped across my right shoulder, and a jagged slash ran from my left thigh all the way down to my calf. My back was a mess of cuts and dried blood.

  Fortunately, in this world, even severed limbs can be healed with a high-rank potion, as long as it’s treated quickly.

  Orin had wasted no time, patching us up, stabilizing our conditions, and gathering us in one place while standing guard against any lingering threats. Thankfully, none came. By the time the Tower closed, she had managed to gather us in the city. Fortunately, Elena had regained consciousness and was able to help her.

  "Mmm, I had no choice but to rent this place," Orin admitted, rubbing the back of her head, her expression sheepish. "It was the only nearby house big enough to fit all of us. But… it's expensive since it's right in the city center, and we had to pay for a full month upfront."

  "That was the right decision," Darwyn reassured her, his voice steady. "Honestly, we should be thanking you for taking care of everything. It must’ve been exhausting."

  "Yeah, I was all for it too," Elena chimed in, throwing an arm around Orin in a gesture of support.

  "Don't worry about the cost. We still have plenty of Mana Stones, right? We should each have more than enough left," I added, hoping to ease her concerns.

  Orin's eyes shimmered with relief at our words.

  "Speaking of which, how many Mana Stones do we have left?" I asked, my mind already shifting to logistics.

  "I'm still doing a detailed count," Elena, ever the meticulous treasurer, replied.

  Then a thought struck me like a bolt of lightning. "Wait… where's Muradin?"

  The room fell into an awkward silence. Orin, Elena, and Darwyn exchanged uneasy glances.

  "Mmm… there was a bit of an incident after we got back to the city," Darwyn finally spoke up, his voice careful.

  My heart clenched. "What kind of incident?"

  Orin sighed, rubbing her temples. "Mister Bromir caused an uproar as soon as we returned to the city. The Royal Guard didn't take it well. They arrested him on the spot, and he’s been held in custody ever since. I haven’t been able to see him, but from what I’ve heard, he should be released tonight. I left a message for him to come straight here as soon as he's free."

  A breath I hadn't realized I was holding escaped my lips. At least he was safe.

  Just then, my stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl, breaking the tension.

  Darwyn smirked. "Well, well, looks like someone’s starving. Let's eat before you collapse again."

  We discussed our attackers over lunch, each of us forming our own theories.

  "I think they’re a terrorist organization," Darwyn said, resting his fork on his plate. "Their goal is to fight against the Royal Palace and cause chaos."

  Orin frowned, shaking her head. "That’s possible, but look at how efficiently they worked. No traces, no eyewitnesses. If they were just rebels, I doubt they’d be this meticulous. I think they were simply a group of professional bandits targeting adventurers for their loot."

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Elena nodded in agreement. "That makes sense. They were focused on robbing the adventurers, not causing a scene—working under the radar."

  I stayed quiet, lost in thought. Something about them didn’t sit right with me. My mind drifted to the black masks they wore, each marked with Roman numerals—a symbol that did not exist in this world. My gut told me this was something bigger, something more dangerous. A secret organization, perhaps? And if so, it was definitely made up of players.

  The idea unsettled me. The way the Blood Berserker flaunted their dislike of non-players—what if some of them had taken that superiority to the extreme? What if they saw NPCs as nothing more than obstacles to be crushed for their own gain? My grip on the spoon tightened. If that were the case, then we weren’t just dealing with criminals—we were up against something far worse.

  "Erynd? You okay?" Orin’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I forced a small smile and nodded.

  "Yeah. Just thinking."

  After an exhausting debate, we all agreed on one thing—whatever happened in Deepnest Hollow had to stay between us. We had no idea how the Royal Palace would react if they found out. More importantly, we needed to keep our identities hidden from the organization. We were witnesses to their crimes, and worse, we had killed at least one of their members. There was no doubt they would hunt us down if they discovered who we were. Fortunately, none of them had gotten a clear look at our faces, except for the one who was buried deep within the Tower.

  As the meal came to an end, Orin excused herself, saying she had business in the city. Elena busied herself cleaning up the kitchen, waving off any offers to help with practiced ease. She had clearly taken on the role of caretaker, whether she intended to or not. Darwyn, looking exhausted, retreated to his room, and I decided to do the same.

  But before I could rest, there was something I needed to check.

  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I emptied the contents of the Blood Berserker’s pouch onto the wooden planks. The dim candlelight flickered over the pile of gear, casting ominous shadows on the walls. My breath caught at the sheer number of items that spilled out.

  "Just how many Adventurers have they slaughtered?" I muttered under my breath.

  Armor, weapons, accessories—gear of all kinds tumbled out, ranging from rusted and worn to pristine and high-grade. Some of the swords still had dried blood crusted along the edges, and a few pieces of armor bore deep gashes and dents, as if they had been ripped off their previous owners mid-battle. The realization made my stomach churn. These weren’t just stolen items; they were trophies of murder.

  If we tried to sell these as they were, people would start asking questions. We needed Muradin’s help to do some work on this. No merchant in their right mind would accept blood-soaked equipment without suspicion.

  Among the loot, I also found two Soul Fragments, their eerie glow flickering in the dim light. Unfortunately, both were of little value to our team. Still, they’d fetch a decent price if we sold them to the right buyer.

  As I sifted through the pile, my fingers brushed against something unusual—something cold and metallic, yet smoother than any weapon or armor piece I had touched so far. I pulled it out and held it up to the candlelight.

  A circular emblem, about the size of my palm, gleamed under the dim glow. Black, with intricate gold carvings along the edges. Its weight felt significant, almost as if it carried something more than just its material worth. On one side, a crest I immediately recognized—the insignia of Dreadspire, the game itself. My heartbeat quickened. This was no ordinary trinket. Turning it over, I found an inscription in elegant golden letters.

  Blackrock.

  I frowned. The name meant nothing to me. I had never come across it in any book, nor had I heard anyone mention it before. Yet, as I traced the engraved letters with my thumb, an odd sensation washed over me—something akin to déjà vu, like a memory I couldn’t quite grasp.

  What is this?

  I stared at the emblem for a long moment before slipping it into my pouch. If I couldn’t find answers in books, I’d have to search elsewhere. And something told me this was just the beginning of another mystery waiting to unfold.

  ***

  “I swear, I didn’t say anything during the interrogation!” Muradin’s voice carried frustration, his brow furrowed as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His usual energy had returned, and he looked just as strong as before. “I just told them it was a case of mistaken identity. I confronted the wrong guy, thinking he was attacking me in the Tower. Well, in a way, that was the truth. Apparently, the real culprit had already been taken down by Erynd.”

  He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Also… sorry about your Fangbone Scepter. I know it was important to you.”

  I shook my head. “It’s fine. Weapons can be replaced. We have bigger things to worry about.” I gestured toward the carefully sorted piles of gear spread out before us. “Like what we’re going to do with all this.”

  Darwyn knelt beside one of the piles, rummaging through the loot until he pulled out a ring made of polished silver, its centerpiece a finely engraved bird in mid-flight. He studied it for a second before tossing it toward Orin. “This one has a cooldown reduction effect. Could be useful for you.”

  Orin caught it mid-air, inspecting the ring with a keen eye before slipping it onto her finger. “I’ll take it,” she said with a grin, flexing her fingers experimentally. “Feels like it fits.”

  Meanwhile, Elena had already made her choice, her eyes gleaming as she pulled a leather belt with intricate embroidery from the pile. “This is mine,” she declared, quickly wearing it before anyone could protest.

  Once we each claimed the items that suited us best, we turned our attention to the remaining equipment. With Elena’s precise calculations, we estimated their worth. The damaged pieces and low-quality items would be melted down and sold as forging material, while the high-quality ones would be restored for resale. Muradin would be in charge of this.

  However, one item remained unspoken—the Blackrock emblem. I kept it tucked away in my pouch, choosing not to mention it. Something about it told me this was best kept to myself, at least for now.

  With the equipment settled, it was time for the part everyone had been waiting for—the loot distribution.

  Elena, ever the meticulous one, retrieved a long parchment and unrolled it with a dramatic flair. “Alright, let’s get down to business. Here’s the breakdown.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “The Cursed Mimic Soul Fragment is excluded since it was obtained individually.” She shot a pointed glance at Orin, who simply grinned. “However, after a very… vocal debate, the Endura Shrooms have been counted in.”

  Muradin groaned. “That’s not fair.”

  Elena smirked. “Too bad. Majority rules.”

  She went on. “We also have the rewards from the Adventurer’s Guild quests, plus all the monster drops that weren’t needed and have already been sold. Finally, the total value of the Blood Berserker’s equipment has been appraised and divided accordingly.” She folded her arms with a satisfied expression. “Luckily, since I hold an official certification in item appraisal, I was able to give us a fair estimate.”

  Darwyn raised an eyebrow. “Wait—you have a certification?”

  Elena smirked. “Obviously. What, did you think I was just making wild guesses?”

  After deducting necessary expenses—including the cost of our temporary residence and the team fund—the final total was nothing short of staggering.

  "Oh, I've also included the cost for repairing Orin's pouch that was damaged. Fortunately, the contents were salvageable," she added.

  I stared at the numbers, my mind struggling to process them. “This… this is insane.”

  No wonder those bastards were hunting fellow adventurers. The sheer amount of wealth we had gained from just one member’s stash was absurd. It made perfect sense why they resorted to ambushes and cold-blooded murder.

  A rush of excitement coursed through me. With this much funding, I could finally learn my next spell, pushing myself further down the path of power.

  good news for Erynd! ??

  Let’s celebrate this rare miracle together!