[Damaged Pendant]
Origin: Unknown.
Description: A broken pendant made of some unidentified material. The jagged edges make it clear that this is merely a fragment of a greater whole. When you examine the engraved patterns closely, you'll notice that they seem to flow and shift like water, constantly changing shape.
Usage Requirement: Possess any Anti-Chaos talent.
Material: Unknown (Mystical).
Craftsmanship: Destroyed.
Trait 1: +1 to a random attribute at the start of each game day.
Trait 2: Offer enough Chaotic Blood to receive a random reward.
Item is incomplete. Repairable.
— A damaged pendant. The key is in the name! You understand, don't you? Find a way to repair it!
…
Aldric stared at the pendant in his hand, feeling as though he had stumbled upon something extraordinary. He had no idea how much "enough Chaotic Blood" meant—but for a player, as long as there was motivation, they would spill every last drop of Chaos blood just to see what kind of reward awaited them!
He carefully tucked the coin pouch away and hung the [Damaged Pendant] around his neck, hiding it beneath his leather armor. Today's random attribute bonus happened to be Dexterity. Aldric felt as if a gust of wind had passed through his ribs—every muscle in his body was subtly trembling, poised to unleash power at any moment.
Since the Gilded Eye Jewelry Shop clearly had no intention of welcoming him anymore, it was time to visit the city's commercial district. Feeling the weight of the money bag in his hand, Aldric decided it was the perfect opportunity to re-equip himself. Surely, Sir Gonz wouldn't mind him spending a few coins for "work expenses."
Unfortunately, after wandering around for a while, Aldric realized that despite the bustling crowds and the countless street stalls and shops, most of them were completely useless to players.
"Come and see! Fresh tobacco just arrived at the docks! Premium quality from the New World!"
"Hot bread! Fresh from the oven! Hot bread!"
"Miracle pills from Cerys! Cures all diseases! Sick or healthy, it'll strengthen your body!"
Street vendors shouted at the top of their lungs, and yet none of their goods held any interest for him. Many storefronts bore signs like:
"Wholesale Herbs Only—No Retail!"
"Silver Threaded Rune Cloth—Five Gold per Yard!"
After circling around for quite some time without finding anything resembling a traditional weapon shop or gear store, Aldric finally decided to message someone who knew this area better—Vittoria.
Private messaging was one of the few privileges players enjoyed. As long as the two were within five kilometers, messages could be exchanged instantly. Beyond that range, however, communication delay increased drastically—the system would downgrade messages from instant texts to telegram-like transmissions, and if the distance was too far, even to letter form.
Soon, a message from Vittoria appeared across his retinal interface:
"Aldric, if you're looking for good equipment, come to the Thunderhammer Forge. The dwarves here have the best craftsmanship in the city. Your leather armor also needs the attention of our tanner."
"Alright," Aldric replied, "I thought this place would be like those novels where equipment with stats is just lying all over the place. Wait for me—I'm on my way."
He followed the map marker and headed toward the indicated direction.
…
Under the bright sunlight of the noble district, elegantly dressed ladies strolled down the well-kept streets, parasols in hand. Manicured lawns lined the cobblestone paths, dotted with colorful flowers in full bloom.
When Colin appeared in the area wearing his dark cloak, the nobles walking nearby froze for a second, then instinctively stepped aside to give him room. Everyone knew this cloaked man was not someone to provoke—especially because of the one he served.
"The Executioner." "Antoine's Hound."
Those were Colin's names.
Though he hadn't been in Port Anthony for long, his infamy had already spread among the city's nobility. The nobles whispered tales about distant lands full of demons and fallen heretics, about savage orcs prowling beyond the walls—but none of those distant horrors inspired more fear than Antoine's Hound.
The tale of Viscount Bertrand had become the best-known example of his ruthlessness.
Eyewitnesses swore that during Bertrand's family dinner, the Executioner had stepped directly out of the Viscount's shadow and slaughtered the entire family at the table. Others claimed he hadn't even lifted a finger—that he'd merely manipulated Bertrand's own shadow to make the noble kill his own kin.
Whatever the truth, the result was the same—Viscount Bertrand went completely mad. The day after he offended Steward Antoine, his entire household was wiped out.
Many nobles fled Port Anthony after that, while the rest bent the knee to Antoine, effectively turning the young Count Anthony into nothing more than a puppet.
"The Witcher Council's gaze won't reach here for a while," Colin mused, eyes glinting with amusement. "The chaos they stirred up recently will keep them busy. A small offense against a Witcher shouldn't cause much trouble."
He hadn't expected that young man from Cerys to be a Witcher apprentice. No wonder he had managed to dodge his attack.
"Lord Colin!" The guards at the castle gate immediately lowered their heads in fear as he approached.
This was the Anthony family's fortress, located at the very heart of Port Anthony. Designed by scholars, the structure had formidable defenses—if the city ever fell, this would serve as its final refuge. It was also the residence of the young Count Anthony II himself.
The young count, pale-faced with soft golden hair, watched from a high window as Colin entered the courtyard. Hidden behind his curtains, he clenched his fists tightly. Were it not for that assassin, Antoine would never have dared to act with such arrogance.
'It won't be long before you all pay the price…' he thought grimly.
"Lord Antoine." Colin's cold gaze landed on the man sitting at the end of the dining table—the former stewward of the Anthony family, now sitting arrogantly in his master's seat.
Colin didn't care whether his employer was a noble or a swine, as long as they paid enough. For the right price, he would even serve orcs.
"You did well before," Antoine said, tearing into a steak, the juices running down his double chin. His enormous bulk nearly overflowed from his chair. "But regarding that Witcher matter—you could've done better! I'm your client, aren't I? Don't you Shadow Assassins claim that your client's will is your will? That you think what your client thinks, and feel what your client feels?"
"Attacking a Witcher's lackey is one price," Colin replied calmly, stepping closer, "but attacking a Witcher's apprentice is another. That's an open challenge to the entire Witcher Order—and you can't afford that."
He leaned in, his tone growing darker. "But you're lucky. The Witcher Council is too busy cleaning up its own mess right now to notice this backwater. So, let's say… ten times the usual rate, and maybe I'll consider it."
"Ten times?!" Antoine choked, his face turning purple. "Are you insane?! The money I've already given you could buy a whole town!"
"Think carefully about what you want, Antoine." Colin's voice turned mocking. "Your goal isn't money—it's power. You're a pathetic clown dreaming of becoming the next Count Anthony. Once the port falls completely into your hands, wealth will drown you in gold. But tell me—what will happen if a Witcher passing through learns that you've been secretly selling human settlement locations to orcs? Or that you've been trading contraband to them?"
Antoine's face turned pale as Colin smiled pleasantly. "So, what do you think would happen if a Witcher arrived at your doorstep right now? That white-haired one will be meeting your young Count within three days. Your options are… limited, Lord Antoine."
"Fine! Fine! You devil!" Antoine wheezed, collapsing into his chair like a deflated balloon. "Ten times the price! Make the Witcher disappear completely! No loose ends!"
"You're a smart man, Antoine," Colin said softly, pulling his hood back over his head. His face sank into shadow as he turned away. "I don't care about your loyalties or your faith. But remember this—no one escapes a debt owed to the Shadow. No one."
His voice faded with his last words, and when silence fell again, Colin had already vanished into the darkness.
(End of Chapter)