---Viktor's POV---
After I explained the dangers of the Wolcen Mountain Range, the players eagerly set off to complete the tasks.
Watching their figures fade into the distance, I couldn't help but feel amused.
"Ah, youth... so gullible."
It's much easier to deceive them.
Kalil, the one who ascended to godhood by claiming the Sky's Authority, had one of the smaller factions of followers among the gods. Otherwise, the northern mountain range wouldn't have been named the Wolcen Mountain Range.
I didn't hold particularly high expectations for what relics the remnants of Saequs could have left behind. Hopefully, the players wouldn't be too disappointed when they found out the truth...
Nearby, Alyanne lowered her head. "It's my incompetence that forced you to personally—"
Her voice was filled with guilt.
"No need to apologize. Magical artifacts are intricate and troublesome to sort out—it's normal."
I waved my hand dismissively, cutting off her self-blame.
The players didn't know how to identify magical artifacts, so only the two of us could do it. Besides, understanding the warehouse's inventory of artifacts was something I had to do sooner or later.
To my surprise, what initially appeared to be a random assortment turned out to be quite useful upon closer inspection. Although the artifacts weren't of high tier, there were plenty that served practical purposes—whether for battlefield healing, restoration, defense, or offense, or even just for day-to-day conveniences. Everything imaginable was present.
At the very least, for The Watchers right now, it was like striking it rich overnight. It directly filled the gap in the game store's magical artifact section—faster than smuggling artifacts from the black market!
For a moment, I even entertained a wild idea of actively seeking out other goblin nests.
But reason quickly brought me back to reality.
Staying temporarily in the Great Oak Forest was a last resort—there were pressing matters outside waiting for my attention, and I couldn't afford to linger here.
After labeling the final batch of magical artifacts with proper prices for acquisition and sale, I lightly dusted off the dirt on my robe.
"The players can handle the rest of the work. I'll take my leave now."
"Understood!" Alyanne nodded firmly. "You can count on me!"
---
Not long after dealing with the terror beast, I had spent 500 divine power to create a game server instance at the ruins. This allowed players to operate freely within a 10-kilometer radius.
Most of the post-battle tasks were now nearly complete. There was only one thing left for me to do—check on the rescued captives. By now, they should have had enough time to recover and make their decisions.
Creak—
A heavy door slowly swung open as I pushed it. Behind it, dozens of pairs of eyes instantly focused on me, watching with a mix of vigilance and fear.
The containment room had originally been a failed player apartment project, never intended for holding captives. Thus, cramming nearly 60 people into it made the space unbearably tight.
I silently noted the discrepancy.
Why did the number seem smaller than when I had first seen them?
Someone noticed my confusion and spoke up.
"Some people succumbed to their injuries or other causes—they didn't make it."
The poor conditions of the dungeon had pushed many to their limits, even if they had barely been holding on before. Destroying the sacrificial ritual hadn't guaranteed their survival. With this statement, the atmosphere grew even heavier.
I nodded slightly at the speaker, indicating my understanding.
It was time for introductions. I pulled back my hood, revealing the skeletal visage hidden in the shadows.
My voice, though not loud, carried an undeniable authority. "Welcome to our domain. I am Viktor, the leader of The Watchers."
A talking undead. Anyone reckless enough to venture into the Great Oak Forest would know what this meant.
As expected, fear deepened in the captives' eyes. Some even huddled carefully into the corners, hoping to avoid being noticed.
"Now, you only have two options before you."
"The first is to join us and become one of The Watchers. The second is to have your memories wiped and leave."
I paused deliberately, letting each word hammer into their minds.
"The memory wipe may be extensive. This is for your own good—I hope you won't mind."
Memory-related spells were far too advanced. Setting aside my previous capabilities, my current diminished state only allowed me to use high-tier magus-level magic.
To truly erase their memories, I had no choice but to wipe quite a bit. Past experience had taught me again and again not to trust human nature too much. Forgetting my whereabouts would be better for both parties.
Standing leisurely by the door, I gave them ten minutes to decide.
Struggle, reverence, loathing—all kinds of emotions flashed through the captives' faces, like a chaotic palette of colors. And finally, the group split into two factions.
"Very well." I nodded in satisfaction.
"For those who wish to leave, I can escort you to the forest's edge—but you'll need to wait two days."
"If you're too impatient to wait, you can leave now."
The captives exchanged uneasy glances. Someone swallowed nervously and slowly approached the door. Seeing that I didn't react, his courage grew.
As he passed me, his pace quickened, breaking into a full sprint as he bolted past.
However, I was faster. In an instant, I extended a skeletal hand, clawed fingers gently pressing down on the man's head.
A blood-curdling scream followed, and the man collapsed.
"Hiss!"
The crowd gasped and instinctively stepped back. I flicked my hand dismissively, as though dealing with a trivial matter.
"Don't worry—memory removal can be a bit painful. That's normal. I'll ensure he's safely escorted away before he wakes up."
My gaze swept across the room, sharp as a blade.
"Does anyone else want to leave immediately?"
In that moment, the faint courage some had mustered popped like a burst bubble. Most chose to stay, while only three insisted on leaving right away.
They received the same treatment as the first. The four unconscious individuals lay at my feet.
I stood with my hands behind my back, expression calm.
"Now, for the second step—whether you join us or temporarily stay here, as long as you remain, you must follow my rules. The Watchers don't support freeloaders. The food you eat, the shelter you reside in, even the healing provided on the way back—all of it must be repaid with equivalent labor."
"Keep that in mind, or else..."
I left the rest unsaid, but it was enough to make everyone shudder.
Was I the villain in their eyes? Obviously.
Did I care? No.
I was a skeleton, made only of bones. There was nothing like a heart inside me. Though I still knew right from wrong because I used to be human. But it had been hundreds of years since then.
They all nodded in agreement, not daring to show the slightest hint of negligence.
Seeing this, I smiled.
It was good to recognize the times. No matter who they used to be, on my turf, if they were assigned to do hard labor, then hard labor it was.
A total of 57 people remained. Among them, 38 chose to stay temporarily, while 19 decided to join.
The number of people willing to stay was unexpectedly high.
I paid close attention and noticed something unusual: not just the 19 who chose to stay, but all of them lacked even a trace of magical power!
There was no way so many ordinary people would have a sudden lapse in judgment and venture into a forest teeming with magical creatures.
The only explanation was... The goblin shaman they encountered earlier had likely mastered some ability to strip mages of their magical talents.
For mages who could no longer use magic and had their magical tools taken from them, leaving would be futile.
They wouldn't even survive the wandering refugee camps on the wilderness's edge. Rather than leave, they might as well stay and gamble on the possibility of rebuilding their lives under The Watchers, whose reputation with the outside world was mixed at best.
Since the Great Oak Forest bordered the human kingdoms, it wasn't surprising. Among the 57 people, 40 were human, while the remaining 17 were dwarves, a race known for their natural tendency to migrate.
The Watchers were perpetually short on manpower.
Based on their stated skills, I temporarily assigned 8 individuals each to the workshop, task stations, and other duties.
The rest? I sent them to haul bricks and construct buildings—typical labor tasks.
Thanks to the temporary spiritual imprints I had placed on all of them, I wasn't worried about betrayal.
Before long, the people in the room dispersed, leaving behind only one person, who quietly stepped forward and stood before me.
"Lord von Vinesse, I've long admired your name."
A red-bearded bowed deeply, his red beard nearly sweeping the ground. This was the highest form of courtesy among dwarves.
I felt the blue flame in my eye sockets flicker.
"Von Vinesse?" I repeated softly.
It was rare to hear someone call me that. Suddenly, my tone shifted, growing icy.
"Unfortunately, I dislike that name."
I carefully studied the dwarf before me.
"So, you're the master-level blacksmith?"
Such eagerness to join—it surely held secrets.
The dwarf froze for a moment, his tone betraying a trace of tension.
"Yes, I…"
Before he could finish, I pulled up my hood and turned away, leaving only my back visible.
"This isn't a suitable place to talk. Let's go somewhere else."
He didn't hesitate and followed closely. Soon, we arrived at the leader's hall. I seated myself at the main position, exuding an imposing aura.
"Speak. What do you want from me?"
The red-bearded dwarf's gaze was steady as he spoke bluntly, "I know that after wandering for centuries, you intend to settle in the Great Oak Forest. Currently, you're short on manpower and tools, and you're also facing the threat of the magic tide!"
"I am a master-level blacksmith with the ability to independently construct defenses against the tide. I can help you solve your problems!"
"I want to join The Watchers—not as a prisoner or out of coercion, but of my own will!"
I leaned forward slightly, my gaze sharp.
"Who told you this?"
"No one."
The dwarf quickly waved his hands.
"It has nothing to do with that undercover dwarf lad. He's tight-lipped. I merely guessed based on observation."
I sighed inwardly. This was why I hadn't allowed the players to gain access to language communication abilities yet. Even with precautions, it was impossible to ensure information wouldn't leak. Not that it was sensitive intelligence anyway.
Anyone spending two days in Honeyvale Town would find it hard not to notice The Watchers' struggles.
I sat back down, my tone now more serious.
"In that case, what are your conditions?"
The voluntary enlistment of a top-tier dwarven craftsman wasn't exactly a stroke of luck. His respectful demeanor was unlike the usual arrogance of most master blacksmiths.
"Have your people told you my story?"
I nodded slightly.
"Continue."
Of course, they hadn't.
Though the story had circulated last night, I had been too busy waiting for the perfect time to strike.
After claiming his reward, the informant likely went off to celebrate and never reported back.
Still, it wasn't hard for me to piece together the basics.
A young dwarf, barely a century old, with talents that marked him as a near-expert blacksmith, now reduced to carrying only the basic tools of a master.
Clearly, he had gone to great lengths to sever ties with the Melting Hammer Church, losing all his possessions in the process.
Idealism? Family? Longevity?
For me, the exact reason didn't matter much.
The dwarf nodded slightly, his eyes tinged with bitterness.
"I'm old. My mind works slower. It took me three years to figure out my next steps. That's why I came to the Great Oak Forest. I heard rumors of your presence nearby. From the start, my goal was to join you! I don't need special rewards. I only have one condition."
I didn't react much.
So it was for an ideal? I doubted it.
"Speak."
The dwarf hesitated, his lips trembling. He took a deep breath, as though making a final decision. But when he finally uttered the name, his voice shook uncontrollably.
"I… I want to meet Master Serkan!"
Clatter!
A bone fragment fell to the ground.
I bent down, picked it up, and calmly reattached it to my hand.
"No big deal, just a small problem. Don't mind it."
I looked again at the dwarf before me.
"You know Serkan?"
After asking, the words seemed to flow more naturally.
He nodded firmly. "We come from the same dwarven tribe. From as early as I can remember, I've heard stories about him."
The wariness in my gaze eased slightly, and I chuckled faintly. "Not good stories, I assume. Decades ago, I accompanied him back once. Barely made it out alive."
The tribe saw Serkan as a stain and loathed him bitterly. Never once did they acknowledge the magical tools and forging techniques he left behind.
Nor did they appreciate the reasons for his return, the trials we faced, or the outcome…
None of it had been pleasant!
"It was 89 years ago," he corrected with a smile, his eyes filled with nostalgia. "That was also my first time meeting the two of you."
He then told the rest of the story...
He had been seven at the time, a prodigy whose forging talents earned the attention of the Melting Hammer Church.
Before leaving the tribe to pursue advanced forging knowledge, he encountered me and Serkan, who were exposed during our stay. What followed… was an unpleasant ordeal.
For years, that incident haunted his dreams.
Yet, in old age, those memories now carried a strange... warmth?
Ah, such was the power of time…
At the very least, during that week when the two of us disguised ourselves as members of the Melting Hammer Church entourage, our time together had been harmonious.
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