The metallic tang of fresh blood still clung to Ezekiel's clothes as he stepped out of the butchery and into the warm afternoon sun. His boots struck the stone path with steady, measured steps — calm on the outside, but within, his mind burned with focus.
Baroness Perrie Tannick.
A name of weight within the Klarincè Kingdom. She wasn't just a reputable merchant — she was the premier meat dealer across the region. Several branches of her business were spread throughout the kingdom's starting villages, each one operating under her banner and bound by her standards.
While she often traveled to oversee her network, Perrie kept her base of operations in Fwerah — and for good reason. The border village sat on the edge of the Xerad Empire, making it a high-traffic hub for trade. Opportunities here outpaced those of any of her other locations.
Meeting her so early in the game was nothing short of a stroke of luck. Even without their encounter, he would have targeted her business eventually. Mud Rhinos were plentiful near swamps — and swamps dotted nearly every beginner village.
The issue was never rarity.
Only, hunting a Mud Rhino was no small feat. The beast typically ranged between Level 40 and 45, and its massive size, aggressive temperament, and swamp-dwelling nature made it an ordeal even for experienced combatants. The terrain alone could wear a fighter down before the battle even began.
Most starting village guards didn't exceed Level 30, and even Baroness Perrie, for all her achievements as a reputable hunter in her adolescence, was only Level 38.
There were certainly stronger NPCs scattered across the region, but they were focused on their own priorities. None of them were about to go rhino-hunting just to support a merchant's supply chain.
In practice, nobles usually relied on mercenaries or Adventurers to obtain Mud Rhino meat — hiring out the work for a hefty fee. That was the common approach, and while it got results, it also came at a steep cost.
From a business perspective, the margins were poor. By the time a merchant paid for labor, risk coverage, and transport, the profit left over was minimal — barely worth the effort for anyone not dealing in bulk.
That's why Ezekiel's offer stood out.
He asked for no advance, demanded no reimbursement, and took full responsibility for the hunt and delivery. It was a clean-cut deal: he would bring the goods, and she would pay him market rate upon delivery.
No risk. No fuss.
For Perrie, it was an ideal proposition.
He had two goals in forming such a contract with her: money and connections.
A mature Mud Rhino yielded up to 1,500 pounds of meat, while its heart — processed and cured — could weigh nearly 20 pounds. In terms of money, a single Mud Rhino was worth 400 Gold. Most players would've been thrilled with one successful hunt.
But Ezekiel didn't plan to stop at one. If anything, he fully intended to bleed the Baroness's treasury dry.
Had Perrie known his thoughts, she'd probably have cursed his ancestors back four generations.
But she would surely calm down after counting her own profits.
This contract would ensure he had enough money to support himself both in real life and ReLife.
Though, wealth without connections was no different from a hollow can.
What Ezekiel needed most were people he could rely on.
That wasn't an option in the real world. His parents' enemies were still out there — shadowy, well-funded, and patient. He had no doubt they'd find ways to buy out or manipulate any ally he tried to cultivate outside of ReLife. It's the sole reason he had no plans of creating or joining a guild.
But unlike people in the real world, Ezekiel knew each and every NPC that mattered in ReLife. He knew their beliefs, morals, bottom lines, and more.
He wasn't worried about being betrayed by them for money as he would always be careful at choosing an acquaintance.
Besides, considering the true purpose of ReLife, even a low-tier noble like Baroness Tannick would one day possess more tangible power than a whole country's government in the real world. It was only a matter of time before the divide between game and reality blurred beyond recognition.
So having signed the contract, Ezekiel was genuinely satisfied. He'd have wanted an exclusivity clause — a long-term arrangement supplying Perrie's business with Mud Rhino parts — but he couldn't linger in the starting zones that long.
Eventually, other players would also catch on to the Mud Rhino's value, and when they did, the beast would become just another hot commodity. He had no interest in competing over scraps.
Ezekiel stopped right before the boundary of the cloaking spell on Somia's Hut.
He didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know it. He was still being followed. Shadows lingered too long. Footsteps faltered when he slowed down. Breaths were being held.
It didn't matter.
He didn't bother using Stealth this time.
As he took another step forward, the air rippled around him like the shimmer on the surface of a lake. In the blink of an eye, he vanished.
The cloaking field of Somia's Hut recognized the value of the goods he carried, and the shop — invisible to the rest of the world until the evening — welcomed him in.
The group of five tailing him skidded into the street seconds later, wide-eyed.
"The hell?" One of them hissed.
"He just — disappeared!" Another barked, scanning wildly.
AshesNSmoke stepped forward, his expression ugly with frustration. "That wasn't Stealth!"
"You think he knows we're tailing him?" CurryFavor asked, frowning.
"He knows," AshesNSmoke said grimly. "He baited us. Damn it. Fan out. He's still close. He can't have gone far."
He turned to the youngest among them — a wiry teenager with cheap gear and a flickering health bar. "SkeetScout, you stay put. Eyes sharp. If he reappears, stall him! If we lose sight of him again... you know, right?"
"Y-Yes, boss!" SkeetScout nodded so fast it looked like a chicken pecking at corn.
From the other side of the veil, Ezekiel stood still, watching. The cloaking field not only shielded him from sight but gave him a one-sided window into the outside.
He took his time studying their faces, committing every detail to memory. Five of them. Four scattered. One staying behind.
Usernames hovered above their heads — blood red with notoriety.
Black Halo.
The name hissed in his thoughts like poison.
He'd never encountered them directly, but every VR player had heard of them at least once. The assassin guild that turned PKing into livestreamed sport. Their cruelty wasn't just a side effect — it was the content.
He had always ignored that kind of filth. Let the trash play with trash. But now —
His gaze locked on the Gold-tier dagger strapped to AshesNSmoke's belt. Intricately designed. Clean. Elegant in a way that didn't fit the rest of the man's thuggish gear.
He knew that dagger.
Six high schoolers. A sealed relic they couldn't identify. Bright-eyed, talkative, considerate, and grateful. They'd left Lance's smithy with a Gold-tier quest and excited hearts.
Now, the unsealed dagger was here.
He didn't need to ask what happened to them.
Their ending wouldn't have been a singular party wipe. Black Halo was never that merciful.
Ezekiel's hands curled into fists at his sides.
The hatchling inside his tunic stirred, sensing the shift. A singular snout poked out, followed by five sets of curious, watchful eyes. It looked up at him with a worried chirp.
Ezekiel exhaled slowly.
The rage didn't blind him.
These people didn't know about the consequences of in-game death. But even if they did — would it have stopped them?
He didn't think so.
They might only grow more excited after learning the truth — as if the thrill of tormenting others needed an upgrade.
This group was nothing but a pack of twisted degenerates, and their audience was no better. Ezekiel felt not a shred of sympathy for any of them.
Originally, he'd planned to resolve things quietly — overwhelm them with brute strength and let intimidation do the rest. Make them realize they weren't in his league, and send them running.
But that plan died the moment he saw that dagger.
Scum only bred more scum.
They had emptied out an entire village in less than half a day. If left unchecked, there was no telling how many more innocents would suffer.
Ezekiel exhaled slowly, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes.
He had never hurt anyone unprovoked. But now? He felt no guilt. No hesitation. Just clarity.
He glanced down at the hatchling. It peeked up at him with concerned eyes, as if sensing his emotions.
He offered it a small, reassuring smile.
"Soon," he murmured. "Didn't I promise you some fresh corpses?"
The hatchling chirped, excitement rising in its tiny body. Ezekiel gently patted its heads, then signaled it to stay hidden. It wasn't time yet.
Once the creature was tucked away safely, Ezekiel turned back and walked toward the shop's door.
Somia's Hut stood exactly as before — modest, aged, timeless. The same slanted roof. The same crooked sign.
He knocked once. Then twice more.
There was a long pause on the other side of the door — nearly a full minute of silence — before he finally heard soft footsteps approaching.
Then came the whisper of fabric, the quiet click of a lock, and the slow groan of hinges as the door creaked open.
Somia appeared, candle in hand, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the silhouette standing before her.
Her emerald-green hair was even more tangled than before, falling over her shoulders in wild waves. The oversized white robe hung loosely around her slender frame, threatening to slip off one shoulder.
"You again," she said flatly, her expression void of amusement.
Ezekiel sighed inwardly. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted — to bother her again before the shop officially opened.
"I sincerely apologize, Lady Somia. I have no excuse."
She stared at him for a moment, as if peering through flesh and bone to the soul beneath. Then, without warning, her eyes widened, and a soft chuckle slipped past her lips.
"You're truly something," she murmured. "How'd you manage that?"
For a second, Ezekiel blinked in confusion — and then it clicked. She'd already appraised his level and stats. Like players, higher-level NPCs could see a basic level display. But those with a gap of 100 levels or more didn't need skills to perform full scans.
He met her curiosity with a measured smile.
"I've brought goods that may satisfy your curiosity."
The elf smirked. She'd always had a soft spot for the cheeky ones.
"This is the last time I'm opening my door at this hour. Next time, even if you bring me a sphinx's heart, wait until sundown." She stepped aside, motioning him in.
"I understand. And I'm deeply grateful," Ezekiel said, bowing slightly before entering.
The scent of mint hit him the moment he crossed the threshold — strong and oddly invigorating.
The interior looked just as it had a few hours ago: an alchemical wonderland stretching far beyond the size of the hut's exterior. But now, it felt different.
More... awake.
He hadn't noticed it before, but this time, he could feel them — countless unseen presences within the shop's walls. Hundreds, maybe more. Watching. Observing.
Each step felt like walking across a stage in front of an invisible audience. A part of him itched to turn back.
But he knew they meant no harm. Not yet, at least.
Suppressing the tension that curled in his gut, he continued forward. Behind him, the door closed with a soft click.
Somia had already taken her place behind the counter, candle now resting on a shelf, casting her features in amber shadow.
Her eyes glinted with anticipation as she spoke.
"Let's see what you've brought me this time, Adventurer."