Rob stopped by a stall where a player was expertly crafting jerky from a fresh velociraptor tail. The chef, a muscular man with a headband holding back his sweat-soaked hair, dipped long strips of meat into a glaze before laying them across a sizzling grill. The glaze bubbled, releasing a burst of sweetness mixed with the charring meat's scent. Finished jerky smoked lightly over glowing embers on a small rack nearby, their edges darkened to a perfect crisp.
With a deft hand, the chef sprinkled bright red flakes onto the drying strips, adding a final touch of color and spice. “One serving?” the chef offered with a beaming smile, his voice cutting through the hum of the market.
“Yes, please,” Rob replied, handing over three gold without hesitation.
Jack watched the transaction with a mix of astonishment and mild envy. Three gold for a meal? Were all players at Rob’s level this rich, or was his cousin just an exception? Still, as Rob accepted the neatly wrapped portion of Veloci-Jerky, Jack couldn’t deny that it looked worth every coin.
Veloci-Jerky (Uncommon)
Smoked strips of velociraptor tail marinated in thunderleaf sap and ember pepper.
Item effects:
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Increases critical strike chance by 15% when attacking from behind;
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Reduces detection range of hostile creatures by 20%;
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+5 agility;
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+50HP;
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+100 stamina;
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Buff lasts 2.5 hours.
Jack’s only regret was that, as an observer, he couldn’t actually taste it. Judging by the vibrant colors of the jerky and his cousin’s gusto, it had to be incredible.
Empowered for the upcoming battle, Rob joined the steadily moving line at the gate, his mood visibly lifted by the meal. Jack finally let the questions swirling in his mind spill out.
“Prejudice…” Jack murmured. “I haven’t heard of them.”
“They’re well-established as mercs,” Rob explained. “They’re not the biggest guild, but they’ve got serious talent. IronIre’s fought with and against them before. Their leader, Ryder, is one of the few players who can actually go toe-to-toe with the Slayer. And he doesn’t just hold his ground—he wins.”
Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Rob said, practically buzzing with excitement. “Ryder and four other Prejudice knights once held off twenty IronIre members—including the Slayer—and still managed to steal a wild boss we were after. If anyone can handle the Slayer, it’s Ryder.”
Jack hummed thoughtfully, his mind racing. A conflict between two guilds, especially one involving a player like Ryder, sounded like a spectacle worth witnessing.
“Let’s hope this Ryder guy keeps the Slayer too busy to bother you,” Jack said.
“That’s the plan,” Rob replied.
The Pearl Gate loomed ahead, its mother-of-pearl insignia catching the sunlight in dazzling hues of pink, blue, and gold. The guards stationed here didn’t seem any more respectable than the ones at Embersgate. Some lazed around, gambling with dice on overturned barrels, while others called players randomly from the line.
“Hey, you!” one barked, pointing at Rob just as he reached the exit.
“Good morning, guard!” Rob responded cheerfully.
“I’m in the mood for some acrobatics. Care to entertain me and the boys?”
“Sorry. Too busy,” Rob said casually, flicking a coin toward the guard.
The guard caught it with practiced ease, bit into it, and grinned. “Thank you for your patronage, sir.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief. Rob really is rich. And on top of everything, he’s a rogue! Acrobatics would’ve been a piece of cake for him.
Rob stepped through the gate, and the landscape beyond came into view. There was no dense jungle. Beyond the clearing, where players milled about in groups or waited in line to enter the city, stretched a vast meadow. The endless green rippled gently in the wind like waves on a calm sea.
“It’s so open out here,” Jack said, his voice tinged with awe.
“Right,” Rob replied. “Have you ever traveled east from Embersgate alongside the wall?”
“Yeah,” Jack said, scratching his head. “Until I reached a swamp.”
Rob nodded knowingly. “The rivers here flood down into that area, creating the marsh between the jungle and the plains. If you’d kept traveling east, you would’ve eventually ended up at this gate.”
Without waiting for a response, Rob took off, darting into the open fields. The meadows were alive with activity. Here and there, groups of low-level players hunted grazing herbivores or defended themselves from roaming predators. Small streams snaked through the grasslands, their crystal-clear water sparkling in the sunlight.
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To their left, a group of four players battled a mid-sized dinosaur—a horned beast with scaly green skin and a thick, club-like tail.
The dinosaur let out a guttural roar, its muscular tail swinging in a wide arc toward the party’s tank. The tank stood firm, bracing his shield just in time to deflect the blow. His teammates retaliated with a volley of arrows and bombs. A grenadier lobbed an explosive that struck the dinosaur’s side, leaving a scorched patch of flesh and eliciting another angry bellow.
Finally, a rogue darted in from behind, twin daggers gleaming as they plunged into the beast’s exposed flank. The dinosaur staggered forward, let out a final, guttural cry, and collapsed. The ground trembled slightly under its weight.
“Nicely done!” one of the players shouted, already looting the creature’s corpse while the others caught their breath.
Rob didn’t slow, weaving effortlessly through the activity and deeper into the plains. He had to cross several creeks and swim through a river. Beyond it, the terrain grew steeper as the meadow transitioned into rolling hills. Jack’s breath caught in his throat when Rob crested one of the hills.
They had reached the battlefield. At the center of it all was the massive carcass of a red triceratops. Its body was a mountain of flesh, and its once-proud shiny horn caught the sunlight like a beacon.
All around it, players clashed in a chaotic melee. Swords flashed, arrows arced through the air, and explosions from thrown bombs sent dirt and grass flying. The shouts of commands, battle cries, and the clash of steel created a deafening symphony of war.
“There’s the fight,” Rob said, dropping into a crouch.
Jack scanned the battlefield, his heart racing as he took in the chaos. IronIre’s warriors were unmistakable. Their brutal, close-quarters combat resembled a pack of jackals tearing into their prey. Swords flashed, axes swung wildly, and shields smashed into enemy lines with a ferocity that was as unnerving as it was effective. It wasn’t coordinated or calculated—it was raw, unrelenting aggression.
“Is it just me, or does everyone in IronIre look like they’re trying to out-Slayer the Slayer?” Jack muttered.
Rob snorted. “That’s the thing about IronIre. The guy’s bloodlust rubs off on people. If you fight alongside him long enough, it’s like you forget what strategy even is.”
“Do you also fight like that?” Jack asked, trying to wrap his head around it. His cousin was usually so chilled.
Rob laughed weakly. “It’s hard to explain. It’s impossible to understand unless you’ve fought side by side with someone like the Slayer. There’s this… fire in him. When he’s at your side, nothing scares you. Nothing feels impossible.”
For the first time, Jack heard something other than fear in Rob’s voice. There was genuine respect. Jack frowned, caught off guard. There was more to this Slayer kid than met the eye—something that had drawn Rob to him.
Jack’s gaze shifted to the Slayer himself, an unmistakable presence even amidst the chaos. Bare-chested with a wolf pelt draped over his shoulders, he wielded two massive swords as though they were weightless. His swings were brutal and unrelenting, each strike leaving devastation in its wake.
The Slayer wasn’t fighting alongside his guildmates. Instead, he was deep in enemy lines, a one-man hurricane of destruction. Players scattered in his wake, their health bars plummeting faster than Jack could track. Even IronIre’s own warriors seemed wary of him, instinctively giving him space as he tore into Prejudice’s forces with reckless abandon. The few who stayed close were cautious, their attacks half-hearted as if afraid of becoming collateral damage. There was a wildness to him, a drooling rage that seemed almost too real for a game.
Jack shivered.
On the other side of the battlefield, Prejudice’s forces moved like clockwork. Their core held the line against IronIre’s reckless assault while their knights orbited the battle in perfect formation.
As the IronIre frontline seemed about to break through Prejudice’s formation, the cavalry charged IronIre’s back line, cutting through IronIre’s defenses with surgical precision. The warriors of IronIre were forced to fall back to support their comrades, but by the time they arrived, the cavalry had already retreated.
Prejudice’s discipline and strategy were slowly wearing down IronIre’s unrelenting rage, and Jack could see the frustration building among IronIre’s players as their scattered attempts to regroup fell apart.
“Prejudice looks a lot more organized,” Jack said.
“They are,” Rob replied. “Ryder runs a tight ship. See those cavalry charges? They’re not just picking off players—they’re going straight for our rangers and beastmasters. They know exactly who to take out to disrupt us.”
Jack watched as a group of IronIre rangers scrambled for cover, only to be intercepted by a trio of Prejudice knights. The clash was swift and brutal, the rangers forced to retreat deeper into IronIre’s lines.
“And what’s IronIre’s plan to deal with that?” Jack asked.
Rob let out a bitter laugh. “Plan? With the Slayer in charge, the plan is always the same—follow him, hit harder, and hope it works. Strategy isn’t exactly our thing.”
Jack frowned, his eyes drawn back to the Slayer as he cleaved through another group of players. His health bar dipped alarmingly low at times, only for him to sidestep a lethal blow or tank a hit with sheer brute force. Every movement was calculated chaos, a dangerous blend of skill and madness that kept even Prejudice’s disciplined ranks on edge.
If he seems not to care about his own safety, how can he care for my cousin’s?
Watching the Slayer, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Rob’s guild didn’t deserve his loyalty.
“Rob,” Jack said, his tone serious. “When you talked to the Slayer, didn’t you hint that they had gotten help from someone?”
“Yeah. So?” Rob asked, his tone guarded.
“Well… Why not say it was Prejudice who aided Amari?” Jack suggested.
“Prejudice? That’s… risky.”
“Think about it. They’re already butting heads with IronIre. If the Slayer thinks they’re in cahoots with Amari, he’ll stay focused on them instead of you—or us.”
Rob shook his head, his unease deepening. “The Slayer’s not stupid, Jack. If I tell him that, and it doesn’t add up, it could backfire. He’s all pure instinct. The guy’s sharp when it comes to sniffing out lies. In my opinion, it’s better to let him keep clashing with Ryder and just stay out of it. Trust me, you don’t want to see what happens when the Slayer thinks someone’s playing him.”
Jack hesitated. “Okay, but that’s it? You keep feeding him vague leads and hope he doesn’t get suspicious?”
Rob let out a bitter laugh. “That’s the plan, yeah. It’s not like I have a better one. I’m just trying to keep him off your backs long enough for Amari to rebuild his strength and for you guys to level up enough to defend yourselves.”
Jack looked down at the battlefield, the chaos below mirroring the conflict in his mind. He just wished he could find a way to get his cousin out of this situation. A message broke Jack’s thoughts.
AmariNinja: “Hi, Jack! I’m done here. Ready to log back in?”
JackOfDiamonds: “Coming.”
Jack sighed, closing the chat window. “Rob, my team is logging back in. I’m going. What will you do?”
Rob stood, twirling his daggers as though testing their weight. “I’m going to join the fray. If I want to keep the Slayer off your backs, I need to stay in his good graces. That means proving myself—again.”
Jack lingered, watching as Rob descended the hill with long strides. Before long, he slipped seamlessly into IronIre’s chaotic ranks, joining a berserker in trying to unseat a knight from her horse. His movements were precise, deadly, and so unlike the relaxed cousin Jack knew outside the game.
Jack clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Rob shouldn’t have to keep risking himself for their sake. One day, Jack vowed, he’d be strong enough—strong enough to protect his team and strong enough to pull Rob out of IronIre’s shadow.
With that, Jack exited spectator mode, leaving his cousin to the chaos below.