The slanting afternoon sun pierced through the dense canopy, casting beams of light that illuminated the dust and dry leaves dancing in the air.
Sera looked down at her gothic leather boots sinking into the damp mud. The sensation of the earth giving way beneath her weight was entirely alien. In the game, no matter how breathtaking the graphics were, walking was simply sliding a character model forward across a textured plane. Now, she could feel the moisture seeping through the seams of her boots, the tension in her calves, the restrictive tightness of her corset, and, most prominently—the crushing weight of the colossal scythe resting on her right shoulder.
"Heavy..."
Sera murmured, her new, melodic voice startling her slightly. She shifted her shoulder, testing the weapon's balance. Her Level 100 Vampire stats granted her more than enough raw strength to wield the legendary weapon with ease. But what the game's system no longer calculated for her was momentum. If she swung it recklessly, the sheer physical weight of the iron blade would throw her entirely off balance. This was reality. There was no auto-targeting animation that flawlessly executed a combo at the press of a button anymore.
"Keep moving. Don't space out," a chilling voice cut through her thoughts.
Talia, their Guild Leader, stood a few paces ahead in her sleek leather assassin gear. She was calmly zipping up her pouches, meticulously checking her throwing daggers one by one. Her sharp, calculating gaze swept over her seventeen subordinates, many of whom still looked profoundly out of their depth.
"We don't have a mini-map. There are no glowing quest markers on the ground. The only thing we have right now is our own instincts," Talia said, turning toward the right flank of the group. "Elin, Bryn. You're our rangers and trappers. Take the vanguard and scout the path. Read the tracks, smell the air. Lucian, watch their backs."
Elin, the tall and slender elven archer, gave a silent nod. She adjusted the longbow on her back before leaping onto a massive tree branch with weightless grace, landing without a single sound. Beside her, Bryn expertly crouched low to the ground, examining the dirt for beast tracks with a professional eye.
Marching an eighteen-man raid party through a dense, untamed forest was no small feat, especially when everyone was decked out in ostentatious, endgame equipment completely unsuited for trekking.
Lars grumbled nonstop. Branches constantly snagged on the exhaust pipes and gears of his gleaming, golden power suit. "Dammit all, I'm half-tempted to just burn this entire forest down," the dwarf muttered, using his thick, calloused hands to swat away cobwebs clinging to his crimson beard.
"Take it easy, old man. Save your fuel for when we actually need it," Nina chimed in. The purple-haired, twintailed alchemist walked beside him. Despite her deceptively innocent and cute appearance, the glass vials and augmented gemstones clinking at her waist held enough explosive power to level a mountain.
In the center of the formation, Mila and Elise walked closely together. Mila, still visibly nervous, kept a tight grip on her black-and-white cleric's habit to keep it out of the mud, her emerald eyes darting at every snapping twig. Elise, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. The mage hummed a cheerful tune, playfully twirling a dark-red magical orb in her hands as if this entire ordeal was just a weekend picnic.
"Hey... Dane," Sera called out to the man walking in stride beside her. He was fully clad in heavy samurai armor, one hand resting perpetually on the hilt of his katana. "What do you think we're gonna run into?"
Dane narrowed his eyes, peering through the shadows of the trees. "Who knows... But if some monster shows up, I want to test out the Iaijutsu stances I've been practicing in front of the mirror back home. I'm curious to see if my blade is just as fast without the system's attack assist guiding my arm."
They trekked for what felt like hours. Slowly, the damp chill of the deep woods gave way to warmer air. The metallic scent of their armor and weapons was gradually masked by something new drifting on the wind... the distinct smell of a wood fire.
At the front of the formation, Talia suddenly raised a clenched fist. The universal signal to halt.
"Get down," she hissed.
Eighteen max-level players instantly dropped into the brush, concealing themselves behind large rocks and thick foliage. Below the clearing, situated in a wide, muddy valley, lay their first objective: Pinewood Village.
It wasn't a majestic fantasy capital with crystal spires like the ones featured in game cinematics. It was a rundown, mundane logging town. Small wooden cabins with thatched roofs dotted the landscape. A few NPCs in rough, dirt-stained tunics were hauling logs or tending to small patches of crops. A wooden cart creaked loudly as a pony dragged it through the sludge.
Sera squinted at the incredibly realistic, impoverished village, then looked down at her own extravagant gothic dress. She glanced at Dane's intimidating samurai armor, and then at Lars, who was basically a walking ingot of shining gold.
"Uh... Boss?" Sera whispered with a dry smile. "If we walk down there looking like this, they aren't going to think the Demon Lord is attacking. They're going to think a traveling circus got lost in the woods."
Talia gave a slow nod, her eyes never leaving the village. "Exactly. We stand out too much. This endgame gear will only bring us unwanted attention. We need to blend in with the locals, immediately."
The Guild Leader turned back to the group, the gears in her mastermind brain already turning. "Our first objective is not to make contact. It's to acquire 'peasant clothes' for everyone. And we are not killing or robbing innocent NPCs to get them. Does anyone have an idea on how to get clothes discreetly?"
Bryn reached into her pouch, ready to pull out a sleeping gas trap. Elise raised her hand with a mischievous grin. "Should I cast a mass illusion? Or maybe put the whole village to sleep?"
"Stand down, Elise," Talia reprimanded coldly. "The goal is espionage. Casting high-tier magic near a settlement might trigger anyone with mana-detection skills. Furthermore, stealing leaves a trail right at our starting point. That's amateur work."
"If we can't steal them, where are we supposed to get clothes, Boss?" Sera asked, tilting her head.
"We make them."
A gruff, gravelly voice interrupted. Lars stepped forward, pulling his massive blacksmith hammer from his back. He slammed the head of the hammer into the dirt, the heavy thud echoing softly. "I'm a Master Blacksmith, for crying out loud. Most of my basic crafting skills are At-Will. Weaving some fabric or hammering out eighteen sets of garbage peasant rags is child's play. I just need the raw materials."
Talia nodded approvingly. "Remember, right now you aren't actually rangers or villagers; we still need to rely on our game classes to survive. Finn, you're a Druid. Handle the plant fibers. Elin, Bryn, help Finn gather some low-level monster hides or vines from around the perimeter."
Finn, the young man in a mage's robe, nodded. He stepped over to a large oak tree, tapped his wooden staff against the exposed roots, and channeled his nature magic. Within seconds, thick vines and fibrous plants sprouted rapidly from the earth, coiling into a neat pile. Elin and Bryn quickly gathered them, tossing in a few crude hides from some low-level goblins they had quietly dispatched earlier.
Lars spat on his palms, rubbed them together, and hoisted his hammer high.
"Alright, let's test this system out!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He brought the hammer down on the pile of vines and hides. Even though he wasn't striking an anvil, the moment the hammer made contact, his crafting skill activated. Flashes of golden light pulsed with every strike, miraculously weaving the raw flora and fauna into coarse, brown tunics and cloaks. Lars worked in a frenzy, swinging over and over. One set... two sets... five sets...
The skill system worked flawlessly. It didn't consume a single drop of his mana, nor was there a cooldown. However, the moment the eighteenth set was completed...
"Ghk... Hah... Hah..."
The burly dwarf collapsed onto his knees. Lars leaned heavily on the handle of his hammer, sweat pouring down his battle-hardened face. He gasped for air, his thick, muscular arms trembling violently.
"Lars! Are you okay?!" Nina cried out, rushing forward to support him.
"I-I'm fine... don't waste a potion," Lars wheezed, holding up a shaking hand. "Dammit... The crafting skill is At-Will, yeah. My mana pool is completely full... but my muscles are screaming. Swinging a heavy hammer at full force to make eighteen items back-to-back in the real world... it drains your actual physical stamina."
Talia narrowed her eyes, instantly analyzing the data. "I see... The system mechanics operate under the game's original logic. At-Will skills don't cost mana. But what the game never factored in was physical limits."
She looked at her guildmates, her expression grave. "In the game, your character model never got sore arms. But now, you have real muscles, real tendons. Swinging heavy weapons or spamming physical actions will cause extreme fatigue, even if your skills are off cooldown. If your body gives out, you're dead. This is what Short and Long Rests mean now. It's actual, physical recovery. Nobody spams physical skills carelessly from now on."
Everyone nodded in solemn understanding. Their first real system test had provided a heavy dose of reality.
"Alright, back to the clothes," Dane said, picking up a rough, brown tunic and shaking it out. "The size looks right. But are we seriously supposed to wear this thin rag over our endgame armor? We're going to look bloated as hell. And if we unequip our armor to put this on, we lose all our defensive stats."
"The Cosmetic Slot..." Sera muttered softly, her crimson eyes widening as an epiphany struck. "In the game, we could wear our overpowered gear, but toggle the 'Cosmetic' function to display a fashion item over it. We keep the stats, but change our appearance."
"But Boss, we don't have a UI menu to click 'equip'," Nina pointed out.
A sly smirk crept onto Sera's pale lips. "If this world forces us to use our physical bodies, then we must be able to command the system through sheer intent."
Sera picked up one of the crafted peasant dresses. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and visualized the game's holographic menu in her mind's eye. She pictured the fashion equipment slot with crystal clarity. Pressing the rough fabric against her chest, she focused her will and commanded the system in her mind.
'Equip Cosmetic.'
Vwoosh!
A flurry of golden, pixelated light shattered the air around the vampire. The dark, luxurious gothic lolita dress she was wearing vanished entirely, instantly replaced by the dull, coarse peasant dress and a frayed shawl.
However... the old gothic dress didn't just disappear into the digital ether.
Thump!
A massive, heavy pile of black velvet, lace, and a steel-boned corset suddenly dropped right into Sera's arms. Caught off guard by the sudden weight, she stumbled half a step backward.
"Whoa! It literally just popped off you?!" Dane's jaw dropped.
Sera looked down at the pile of extravagant clothes in her arms and let out a dry laugh. "It looks like when we equip a new cosmetic over our base gear, the old cosmetic gets forcefully unequipped and turns into a physical object. It doesn't auto-store."
To confirm the most important part—that her endgame armor stats were still active beneath the rags—Sera knocked her knuckles against her own stomach.
Clank... Clank...
Instead of hitting soft fabric or flesh, the sound was a dull, metallic thud, as if she had just punched a plate of enchanted steel.
"The Cosmetic System works perfectly," Sera declared triumphantly. "I look like a peasant, but the weight, feel, and defensive stats of my hidden armor are all still there. You just have to visualize the item slot and will it to equip." She frowned at the pile of velvet in her hands. "But here's the new problem: how are we supposed to carry all our old clothes into town? Walking in with a pile of aristocrat dresses defeats the purpose of the disguise."
"We use the Inventory," Talia interjected smoothly. She stared at the pile of clothes in Sera's arms. "If equipping gear works via intent, storing items should work the exact same way. Visualize the empty grid. Command it to enter the dimensional space."
Sera nodded. She gathered the heavy gothic dress in her hands, closed her eyes, and pictured the familiar, square-grid inventory screen.
'Store.'
She felt a strange, rushing sensation at her fingertips. Instantly, the massive pile of clothes fractured into glowing blue particles and was sucked into an invisible void in the air, vanishing without a trace.
"It works!" Sera opened her eyes, marveling at her empty hands. She flipped her palms upward, pictured the dress, and thought, 'Retrieve.' The air above her palms warped, and the blue particles coalesced, dropping the gothic dress safely back into her arms.
"Dimensional storage is fully operational. This is awesome," Sera grinned, tossing the dress back into the void with a thought.
Seeing the confirmation, the rest of the guild didn't hesitate. One by one, they picked up their peasant clothes, closed their eyes, and began visualizing the process.
Dane focused his mind. Vwoosh! His terrifying samurai armor was overlaid by a ragged farmer's tunic, while his cosmetic helmet and plating clattered into his arms before he quickly stored them away in flashes of blue light. Mila clasped her hands in prayer. Vwoosh! Her cleric's habit vanished, replaced by a simple village girl's dress, the old clothes neatly stored into the ether.
It was a bizarre sight: eighteen people standing in the middle of a forest, striking dramatic poses, intensely meditating, and performing vanishing magic tricks with their clothes. Talia shook her head at the sheer absurdity of her guild, but a faint sigh of relief escaped her lips. In a fraction of a second, the Guild Leader shifted her own assassin gear into a torn, unremarkable cloak, her twin daggers vanishing smoothly into her inventory.
"Alright, that's enough system testing," Talia clapped her hands once, bringing the group to attention. "Right now, we look exactly like a group of destitute war refugees. It's the perfect cover to enter the village. Our objective is to secure rations, gather intel on the current state of this world, and figure out a route to the neutral city of Soltaris."
Her eyes hardened as she looked at her people one last time.
"Remember. Hide your competence. Do not let anyone figure out your power. Move out."
The convoy of eighteen fake refugees marched out of the dense forest, stepping onto the muddy road leading straight toward Pinewood Village...