"I'm not in the mood to fight you right now—my injuries still haven't healed," Aldric said, completely uninterested in Vittoria's challenge. Quickly, he tried to change the subject. "I spawned out in the wilderness when I logged in, haven't seen a single player except you. What about you?"
"This game feels too real sometimes," Vittoria replied, draining her mug of beer in one gulp. "There are times I can't even tell the difference between players and NPCs—it's like there's no distinction at all. But I did meet a familiar face this morning—Conrad Vasilevsky. You wouldn't enjoy meeting him."
"What's wrong with him? One of those religious maniacs? Or some new-age radical from the eastern territories?" Aldric asked, recalling the two most common "specialties" the EU was infamous for.
After the Euras Union finally collapsed under the weight of the financial crisis, the entire European continent was shrouded in darkness. The reborn Tsar Federation—once again calling itself the Soviet Union—rose with startling strength.
The eastern dragon roared, and even the traditional powerhouse Liberty Dominion, under the guidance of its "God Emperor," began clawing its way back to dominance. Yet, Europe seemed to have been forgotten by the world, left to decay in the shadows.
In a rapidly advancing world where nations raced forward, Gaul —the old "Gallic Rooster"—rose again under the leadership of a woman. Supported by John Bull and Hans, they broke away from their deadweight allies and formed a new alliance.
In 2099, the Empire Union (EU) was founded. Within a century, it had spread its influence across most of the former Euras Union through subtle, religious indoctrination. Behind countless bankrupt or forcibly dissolved governments stood hungry, desperate people—people who found salvation in the EU's slogan, "God loves all mankind."
Thus, masses joined this new power, and the EU rapidly regained what had been lost over a hundred years—until its neighbor, the Tsars, finally had enough.
The process need not be detailed—what matters is that the EU, after having its spine broken, became docile, content to cling to its remaining territory. Occasionally, the Tsars would "plow" their borderlands just to remind them of their place.
As newer generations grew up, discontent began to simmer. The youth had forgotten the terror once brought by the color red. Radical ideologies began spreading again, especially in the eastern border regions, where hardliners grew in number. As for religious fanatics, they had long been deeply rooted within the EU. Its militant "Order of the Faith" was notoriously powerful.
"Both," Vittoria said flatly. "He used to be a junior lieutenant in the border guard. I saw him earlier today plastering propaganda posters on the streets with two cronies in tow. They're trying to recruit players to form a warband."
Her fist slammed the table with a heavy thud. "Those bastards actually want to lead me! I used to be a captain!"
In this game, there was almost no way to distinguish players from NPCs by sight alone. The only difference was the small, diamond-shaped red mark on a player's forehead—visible only to other players, never to NPCs, and impossible to conceal.
"Forget it," Aldric sighed. "I swear, half of you EU types are lunatics. So, what's a warband exactly?" He made no effort to hide the sarcasm in his tone. Vittoria, being of Nordreich descent, often stood apart from the EU's collective stance anyway—her loyalty was to her "Viking" heritage more than to the Empire Union itself.
Unbothered, Vittoria replied, "A warband's kind of like a mercenary company. You need cash to start one, plus you have to complete a founding quest. Why? Interested?"
"Not yet," Aldric said after a pause. "Maybe once I meet a few more people. For now, I've got a quest—pretty dangerous one. You interested?"
"What's the reward?" Vittoria's eyes gleamed instantly.
"No idea yet. I'll know when it's done. But judging by who it involves—some high-ranking humans in the city—it'll be worth it. We won't walk away empty-handed." Aldric locked eyes with her as he spoke.
Vittoria grinned. "Deal. I'm in!"
…
The morning sunlight fell across Aldric's face. The game's realism extended even to hangovers, the pounding headache a cruel reminder of last night's disaster. His last memory was of Vittoria downing seven massive mugs of beer, one after another, and utterly wiping him out. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten back to his room. In reality, he'd never drunk that much in his entire life.
Apparently, he had gotten too relaxed—even in such a dangerous environment. He hadn't even realized the game had a drunkenness mechanic. Shaking his head, Aldric silently vowed never to let his guard down again.
Right on cue, the system's messages appeared before his eyes:
"A fierce beer battle! You feel even more exhausted than before you went to sleep. You've gained 150 Life Experience Points."
"Alcohol has hindered your wound recovery. Your status remains [Condition: Moderate Injury]."
"You still have unassigned Professional Skill Points."
"We hope you maintain healthy habits in your new day!"
Aldric stared blankly at the system's sarcastic tone. Sighing, he got up, checked his gear, and decided to exchange his gems for some human gold coins. After that, he'd see if there was a place to repair his leather armor. And if that assassin shows up again in broad daylight… he's done for.
Stepping outside, he found that his master had already left the inn early that morning. Vittoria, on the other hand, had left a message with the tavernkeeper—she'd gone to the blacksmith and marked a route for him to a jewelry shop.
Following her roughly drawn military-style map, Aldric soon found his destination—The Gilded Eye Jewelry Shop.
The place exuded mystery. It looked more like a fortune-teller's parlor than a jeweler's. Unknown incense burned gently in an ornate little brazier, and once the heavy door closed, the noise of the street was completely shut out. A woman dressed in a flowing purple robe sat cross-legged on a thick cushion. Her uniquely shaped hood extended all the way down to the tip of her nose.
"Ah, a customer," came a peculiar, ageless voice. Aldric noticed the woman hadn't even opened her mouth. "I smell the scent of a monster hunter… a young one, at that. Witchers rarely visit my little shop—they prefer weapons and armor. So, tell me, young hunter, what brings you here to me?"
Unable to gauge the woman's strength, Aldric decided not to take any chances. Remaining cautious, he said, "Ma'am, I'm just here to sell some gemstones. I don't want any trouble. My mentor's waiting for me in town."
Still smiling faintly beneath her hood, the woman's voice floated through the air, disembodied. "Relax, little hunter. I mean you no harm. Your mentor—isn't he that white-haired one, Alagon? I've known him a long time. Show me your gems. I'll give you a fair price."
Aldric carefully placed the small pouch of gemstones in front of the woman who had called his mentor white-hair. "Please."
She reached out as if blind, gently feeling the pouch with her hands. "Elven style… and the gems themselves are of elven craft. Your teacher found himself a good employer, it seems. Elven gems are always valuable currency. Feel free to look around my shop—see if there's anything you fancy. You'll have plenty of money to spend. I need to prepare something first."
With that, she turned and carried the pouch of gems toward a back room. Aldric half-rose to ask her to leave the gems behind, but a single sharp glance from beneath her hood froze him in place.
"If I wanted to steal from you," she said calmly, "your teacher would already be at my throat. Relax."
Even through the hood, Aldric could feel the oppressive weight of her gaze. He stiffly nodded, and she disappeared through the door.
Left alone, Aldric began to wander the shop, curious about the strange wares lining the shelves. Just as he turned toward the back room, a small black kitten padded out through the door. Its fur was midnight dark, its paws pure white, and its eyes—large and gleaming like grapes—radiated a faint spiritual aura. The creature was lazily adorable, its half-lidded eyes blinking drowsily at the stranger in its domain.
The little feline stretched with exaggerated drama, its fluffy paws pressing forward, then flopped down onto the cushion where the woman had been sitting. Its eyes gleamed with a distinctly human disdain as it looked at Aldric—and from its mouth came a single, disdainful word:
"Coward."
(End of Chapter)