A series of translucent windows materialized before PillowHorror's eyes, displaying his current character stats:
Player Name:PillowHorror Level: 42
Class: Preator Subclass: Advisor
Profession: Advisor Specialization: None
Currently Active Title: Consul
Most used Skill: Intimidation
Alignment: Despicable
Health: 250/250
Mana: 600/600
Stamina: 100/100
Points Earned: 0
Reputation:
Soohan: -660
Lunar Empire: 8450
Draggor: -1400
Red Fox Caravan: 5 (Neutral)
Attributes:
Strength:12 Constitution:20 Dexterity:51 Intelligence:20
Wisdom:60 Charisma:65 Piety:40 Luck:10
Karma:-5
Combat:
Attack:30 Accuracy: 25 Agility:35 Speed:25
Critical: 8.82 Endurance:10 Focus: 20 Defense: 30
Magic Def:55 Armor: 9 Hygieian Meter: 400
Active Status Effects:
Comfortable
Passive Skills:
Innate channeling
Feats:
-
Character Background:
Quang, Noble Lineage, [Hidden]
Inherited Traits:
Leadership, Courtly Grace , Target of Rivalries, [Hidden]
Currently active Quest:
-
His mana bar, once depleted, now shimmered with a full charge. Good. The recent system update had implemented changes that went far deeper than he had anticipated. The annoying "Points: 0" reminder that used to plague his character sheet had vanished, replaced by a discreet slot within the in-game shop that displayed his remaining character points. A small but significant detail that spoke volumes about the developers' evolving understanding of the game. They were learning, adapting, becoming more adept at catering to the needs of the elite Group C players. A subtle smile touched PillowHorror's lips. They were playing his game now.
With a flick of his claw, he activated the 'Ping' skill:
< Skill Activation >
>Ping - Quality: Adept<
The results were promising, but PillowHorror's attention was immediately drawn to a disturbance near the Consul's position. The Emprinceling, scales gleaming and head held high, had positioned himself close to the Consul, his leg resting precariously on a crenelation as if to emphasize his self-importance. An unwelcome distraction. PillowHorror could tolerate a certain level of incompetence, but this blatant disregard for protocol, this disruption of his carefully crafted narrative, was simply unacceptable.
“Very well,” PillowHorror thought, a sly glint entering his reptilian eyes. “If the princeling insists on inserting himself into the story, then I shall make him a part of it.”
The 'Ping' skill updated, its translucent windows now displaying detailed troop movements: expected positions, arrival times ticking down in seconds, troop emplacements highlighted with a wealth of military information - tactics, troop counts, equipment levels, even the average threat index. It was lower than PillowHorror had hoped, but there was always a way to elevate the stakes. This minor skirmish was merely a prelude, a chance to test the waters before unleashing the full force of his strategic brilliance.
A new thought struck him. Was this the only impending threat? A quick check wouldn't hurt. It would cost a bit of mana, but the expenditure was a small price to pay for comprehensive awareness.
< Skill Activation >
>War Theatre Visualization - Quality: Adept<
His mana expenditure surged, a drain he mentally noted for future feedback to the developers. Balancing was clearly needed, but that was a concern for another time. A new map unfolded before him, pushing his existing screens to the periphery. The segmented world map highlighted regions currently embroiled in Lunar Empire war activity. Selecting the local theatre, PillowHorror focused on the seemingly dull skirmish, his brow rising in surprise as a new layer of complexity revealed itself.
The Consul, as if in deep concentration, moved his claws in a mesmerizing dance, a display that further impressed the image of a high-level magic user upon both allies and enemies. The Legates watched with a mixture of fascination and trepidation. To witness a Consul at work was to glimpse the raw power of the Lunar Empire's arcane might.
And then the world shifted.
< Ding >
>“Schwerer Gustav”<
The air thrummed with a power that seemed to emanate from the very core of the planet. High above the battlefield, the sky tore open, a jagged rent in the fabric of reality that pulsed with a swirling darkness. From the depths of that abyss emerged a colossal machine, its form defying description, its presence radiating a terror that froze the hearts of both attacker and defender. The monstrous tube atop the machine swung towards the oncoming force, its metal skin screaming a promise of annihilation.
PillowHorror, savoring the reactions of those around him, activated yet another skill:
< Skill Activation >
>The Art of War - Quality: Sage<
His mana expenditure climbed even higher, but a satisfied smile played across his lips. He was a master of the game, manipulating its mechanics, orchestrating a symphony of chaos and destruction. The Consul, his tail rising in a gesture of command, directed the unknowable machine, his actions a testament to his mastery of the game's most arcane and powerful abilities.
A new notification blinked into existence, a message from the developers themselves, their curiosity piqued by his audacious actions. A validation of his skills, a recognition of his ability to push the game to its limits.
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With a mental note to respond later, PillowHorror dismissed the message. He had a meeting to attend, a narrative to shape, a game to win. Stepping into the swirling currents of the Tide, he vanished from the battlefield, leaving behind a scene of utter devastation and awestruck silence.
As the swirling currents of the Tide receded, PillowHorror found himself standing once again upon the ramparts of the Sunken Cathedral. The air, still crackling with residual energy from the deployment of the Schwerer Gustav, carried the scent of ozone and scorched earth. Below, the battlefield was a scene of utter chaos. Lunar Empire forces, their ranks thrown into disarray by the unexpected arrival of the colossal weapon, struggled to regroup. The attacking forces, decimated by the Gustav’s devastating barrage, were in full retreat, their cries of terror echoing across the shattered landscape.
The princeling, his composure shattered, stared at the devastation below with wide, uncomprehending eyes. His leg, once casually draped over the crenelation, now trembled uncontrollably. The image of arrogant confidence he had so carefully cultivated lay in ruins, mirroring the battlefield below.
“Magnificent, isn't it?” PillowHorror purred, his reptilian features contorted in a mockery of a smile. “A demonstration of true power. A taste of what is to come.”
The princeling, unable to meet his gaze, stammered a weak reply, his voice barely audible above the din of the retreating army. “But... the protocols... the chain of command...”
PillowHorror’s smile widened, revealing rows of sharp, predatory teeth. “Protocols are for the weak, princeling. True power recognizes no constraints.” He let the words hang in the air, savoring the princeling’s discomfort. This was just the beginning. He had plans within plans, schemes that would unravel the very fabric of Ludere Online. The developers, those arrogant architects of this virtual world, had underestimated him. They had given him the tools, the access, the freedom he needed to reshape their creation in his image.
With a flick of his tail, PillowHorror turned away from the sputtering princeling and surveyed the battlefield below. The Art of War skill, still active, highlighted strategic opportunities, tactical weaknesses, potential vulnerabilities. It was time to capitalize on the chaos he had created, to consolidate his power, to shape the narrative to his will. The front lines, finally subdued, beckoned him with the promise of victory. He would revel in the chaos a moment longer, savoring the taste of his triumph before moving on to the next stage of his grand design.
The currents of the Tide deposited PillowHorror back on the familiar stone floor of the Sunken Cathedral's main hall. The air, still vibrating from the deployment of the Schwerer Gustav, hung heavy with the metallic tang of ozone and the acrid bite of scorched earth. The chamber, once bustling with activity, was now eerily silent. Only the rhythmic drip of water from the vaulted ceiling punctuated the stillness.
Below, visible through the arched windows that lined the hall, the battlefield lay in smoldering ruin. Lunar Empire forces, their initial confusion giving way to disciplined efficiency, were already moving to secure the perimeter, their movements precise and coordinated. The attacking army, shattered and demoralized, had vanished beyond the horizon, leaving behind only the detritus of their failed assault.
The princeling, still reeling from the display of overwhelming force, stood frozen near the Consul's position on the dais. His once-proud posture had slumped, his scales, no longer gleaming with youthful arrogance, seemed dull and lifeless in the muted light filtering through the stained-glass windows. He stared at the devastation below, his eyes wide and unfocused, his mouth agape in a silent scream of disbelief.
"Quite a spectacle, wasn't it?" PillowHorror purred, approaching the princeling with a measured, reptilian grace. He savored the princeling's unease, the palpable shift in power dynamics that hung in the air like a suffocating fog. The princeling, startled by the Consul's sudden proximity, flinched, his gaze darting nervously between the Consul's impassive face and the carnage below. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a choked whisper, devoid of its usual bravado.
"But...the protocols... the chain of command..." he stammered, his words disintegrating into incoherent mumbling.
PillowHorror chuckled, a low, guttural sound that echoed through the silent hall. "Protocols are for those who lack imagination, princeling," he replied, his voice laced with amusement. "True power knows no bounds."
He let the words hang in the air, allowing them to sink into the princeling's consciousness like venomous barbs. The princeling, his face pale, his eyes downcast, offered no reply. The lesson, PillowHorror knew, had been delivered. He had subtly, but effectively, dismantled the princeling's carefully constructed facade of authority, revealing the fragile insecurity that lay beneath.
Turning away from the subdued princeling, PillowHorror approached one of the arched windows and gazed out at the ravaged landscape. His reptilian eyes, gleaming with an unholy light, scanned the battlefield, noting the strategic opportunities that lay amidst the chaos. The Art of War skill, still active, highlighted key locations, potential flanking maneuvers, vulnerable supply lines.
PillowHorror turned from the window and strode towards the center of the hall, his heavy tail trailing behind him like a sinuous shadow. The Art of War skill continued to analyze the battlefield data, its complex algorithms processing the ever-shifting variables of the conflict. The information, displayed as a series of holographic overlays projected onto his vision, provided him with a comprehensive overview of the situation: troop movements, terrain advantages, potential choke points, estimated enemy morale.
He paused, considering his options. The princeling, still standing near the dais, watched him with a mixture of fear and fascination. PillowHorror ignored him, his attention focused on the intricate tapestry of the battlefield unfolding below.
The initial objectives of the assault had been achieved. The Schwerer Gustav, deployed in a calculated act of defiance, had shattered the enemy's lines and demoralized their troops. The princeling's authority had been undermined, his carefully constructed facade of command shattered by PillowHorror's display of overwhelming power. The stage was set for the next phase of his plan.
“Inform the surviving legions to begin mop-up operations,” PillowHorror commanded, his voice echoing through the silent hall. “No prisoners. I want every trace of the enemy presence eradicated.”
A ripple of energy emanated from him, carrying his orders through the intricate network of communication channels that linked the members of the Lunar Empire. The princeling flinched, his scales paling further at the Consul's ruthlessness.
PillowHorror savored the moment, the sense of control that coursed through him. He had orchestrated this chaos, had manipulated events to his advantage, had demonstrated the true nature of power within this virtual world. The developers, those self-proclaimed gods of Ludere Online, had underestimated him. They had given him the tools, the access, the freedom he needed to reshape their creation in his image.
PillowHorror turned from the battlefield and surveyed the remnants of the council meeting. The council members, their faces a mixture of awe and apprehension, had gathered near the back of the hall, their usual boisterous chatter silenced by the Consul’s display of power. PillowHorror ignored them, their petty squabbles and political maneuvering held no interest for him. He had greater ambitions, goals that transcended the confines of their limited worldview.
“My duties call elsewhere,” PillowHorror announced, his voice echoing through the hall. “See to the defense of the city. Reinforce the perimeter. And prepare for the inevitable counterattack.” He paused, letting his words sink in.
“And as for you, princeling,” he addressed the trembling figure still standing near the dais, “I suggest you find a more… suitable… position within the ranks. Your talents lie elsewhere. Perhaps in the royal kitchens?”
With a final, dismissive flick of his tail, PillowHorror stepped towards the center of the hall, the currents of the Tide swirling around him. The council members parted before him, their eyes wide with fear and respect, their whispers trailing in his wake.
“Where are you going, Consul?” one of the council members dared to ask, his voice trembling.
PillowHorror paused, turning his head slightly to address the questioner. His reptilian eyes, gleaming with an unholy light, seemed to pierce through the council member’s carefully constructed facade of authority. “My plans are my own,” he replied, his voice cold and sharp. “It is not your place to question them.”
And with that, he vanished, swallowed by the swirling currents of the Tide, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than the weight of the submerged city above.
PillowHorror materialized within a secluded chamber deep within the Sunken City. The chamber, carved from black obsidian and illuminated by pulsating bioluminescent fungi, served as his private sanctum, a place where he could strategize and plan without the distractions of the Lunar Empire's court.
The Art of War skill, still active, projected holographic data streams onto the chamber walls, displaying a real-time analysis of the unfolding events in the game. He studied the information, his reptilian eyes scanning the data streams, noting troop movements, resource allocations, and potential vulnerabilities.
The deployment of the Schwerer Gustav had been a calculated risk, a demonstration of power designed to shock and awe both his allies and enemies. It had been a gamble, a blatant violation of the game’s protocols that could have triggered unwanted attention from the developers. But the risk, PillowHorror believed, had paid off. He had solidified his position within the Lunar Empire, had sown fear and uncertainty among his rivals, and had gained valuable insights into the game's mechanics.
He was no longer content to simply play the game. He wanted to master it, to bend it to his will, to reshape it in his own image. The developers had underestimated him. They had given him the tools, the access, the freedom he needed to exploit their creation, to unravel the very fabric of Ludere Online.
PillowHorror turned from the data streams and approached a massive obsidian table in the center of the chamber. Spread across the table's surface was a detailed map of the game world, its intricate details illuminated by the pulsating glow of the fungi. He traced his claws across the map, his gaze lingering on the sprawling territory of the Soohanan kingdom, his next target.
The Soohanan people, renowned for their resilience and adaptability, posed a significant challenge. Their defenses were strong, their warriors fierce, and their magic rooted in the ancient traditions of their land. But PillowHorror relished a challenge. He would break them, would bend them to his will, would add their strength to his growing dominion.
He tapped a claw on a specific location on the map, a strategic choke point that guarded the entrance to the Soohanan heartland. Control of this location would give him a decisive advantage, would cripple their defenses, and would open the door to a swift and decisive victory.
"Yes," PillowHorror murmured, a predatory smile spreading across his reptilian features, "the time has come to unleash the Pale Tide upon the Soohanan kingdom."
PillowHorror, alone in his private chamber, smiled, a slow, predatory grin that spread across his reptilian features like a crack in a carefully crafted mask. He was no longer simply playing Ludere Online. He was shaping it, molding it to his will, pushing the boundaries of the game’s code and the developers’ intentions. He was a force of chaos, an agent of disruption, and he reveled in the fear and uncertainty he had sown within the virtual world.
His ambition, however, extended far beyond the petty squabbles of the Lunar Empire or the conquest of rival kingdoms. He had glimpsed the true potential of Ludere Online, a potential that lay dormant within the intricate network of code and algorithms that governed the game's reality. The developers had created a world, but they had also created the tools for its destruction. And PillowHorror intended to use those tools to their fullest extent.
He turned from the map of the Soohanan kingdom, his gaze drawn to a small, unassuming object that rested on a pedestal in the corner of the chamber. It was a fragment of the Genesis Rock, a shard of the artifact that held the core programming of Ludere Online. He had obtained it through a series of daring exploits, pushing the limits of the game’s mechanics, exploiting vulnerabilities in the code, manipulating events to his advantage. It was a dangerous artifact, a source of immense power that could, in the wrong hands, unravel the very fabric of the virtual world.
PillowHorror reached out, his claws tracing the smooth, pulsating surface of the Genesis Rock fragment. It hummed with a faint energy, a resonance that he could feel deep within his avatar's core. It was a power he was only beginning to understand, a power that promised to elevate him beyond the limitations of a mere player.
A new plan began to form in his mind, a plan so audacious, so dangerous, that even he hesitated to fully embrace its implications. With a few tweaks of his former plans things would play out quite nicely.