Fish.

Rael crouched behind a large boulder, his breath steady as his eyes focused on the nearest marsh croc. The creature lumbered near the edge of the swamp, its massive tail swishing through the water with a slow, rhythmic movement. Rael's hand instinctively tightened around the shaft of his bow. The croc was unaware of his presence, and Rael had no intention of making it aware.

Slowly, he adjusted his position, ensuring his footsteps were silent on the muddy ground. His heart beat steadily in his chest, and the mist around him seemed to grow thicker with each breath. He nocked an arrow and aimed carefully, not rushing. This was a delicate operation.

With a sharp exhale, Rael released the string. The arrow soared through the air with pinpoint precision, striking the croc's exposed neck. The creature let out a startled hiss before collapsing onto the ground with a heavy thud, already dead.

Rael didn't pause to admire his shot. He immediately dipped back behind the boulder, melting into the shadows. He needed to keep a low profile; the crocs weren't the only creatures here, and being spotted meant unnecessary complications.

A few moments passed before he checked again. Another croc wandered into his line of sight, slightly further than the first. Perfect. He adjusted his position once more, using the mist as his cover, and repeated the same process.

Each kill was precise, methodical. Rael hadn't needed to rush, and each croc fell one by one, unnoticed by the rest of the swamp's denizens.

Rael was doing this to level up quickly. It had been approximately half a day of farming Solmora time. He had spent the entire time hunting these crocs and had just reached level 6.

The strategy was simple: find a croc, pull it away from the pack, take it out with a single headshot, and repeat. The crocs were relatively weak, ranging between levels 4 and 9, which made them perfect targets for his current capabilities. With his Ranger class, he had decent ranged damage and stealth, and his Deadeye passive gave him an advantage in those crucial moments when a well-placed shot could down a croc in one go.

The process wasn't thrilling, but it was efficient. Rael didn't need to draw attention to himself by overexerting or rushing the kills. His goal was pure progression, and in this remote part of the swamp, far from the major player hubs, there was little chance of encountering other players looking to steal his kills or interfere with his grind.

"Status."

[STATUS WINDOW]

Name: EzPz4040

Race: Lunaris

Class: Ranger

Level: 6

Affiliation: None

[ATTRIBUTES]

Strength - 9

Dexterity - 20

Endurance - 10

Constitution - 10

Intelligence - 5

Charisma - 5

[STATS]

HP - 130/130

MP - 60/60

Stamina - 120/120

[Abilities]

Deadeye: Your Headshots deal 2.5x the damage.

———————————————————————

Looking at his Dexterity stat, Rael nodded in approval. Being single-stat heavy was actually pretty nice.

The only reason those crocs were dying in a single hit wasn't just because of his Deadeye passive but also because his Dexterity was absurdly high for his level. Every point in Dexterity increased his ranged damage, precision, and attack speed. The crocs weren't just weak—they simply never stood a chance.

Most players tried to balance their stats early on, hedging their bets in case they needed to adapt. But Rael? He had min-maxed Dexterity as hard as possible. His arrows struck faster, landed more critical hits, and outright erased enemies before they could even react. Sure, if something got too close, he'd be in trouble—but that was the point of being a Ranger.

"If it never reaches me, it's not a problem."

Rael leaned against a tree as he mulled over his next move. The crocs weren't going to cut it anymore. With each level-up, the experience required to progress increased, and these low-level mobs wouldn't be efficient for much longer.

His default Ranger bow wasn't helping either. It was weak, slow, and lacked any real power. If he wanted to level faster, he needed better gear and stronger enemies.

Opening the in-game forums, Rael searched for information about the marsh's location. As expected, it was far from the Order's main territory, situated at the southern edge of the central continent. That explained why he hadn't seen any players around—this wasn't a typical starting area.

Just as he scrolled through the threads, a soft ping echoed in his interface.

Rael's eyes flicked to the notification: [Friend Request: Artemis]

Rael glanced at the name Artemis, but he didn't need to think twice—there was only one person who would bother sending a friend request to EzPz4040.

He sighed, a wry smile forming. Of course.

He had purposefully kept his profile private so others wouldn't be able to see his level. If he accepted now, Sabrina would immediately see he was level 6—not exactly suspicious, but enough to make her question things.

"It should be fine... but still, better to be careful."

For now, he let the request sit there and returned to browsing.

* * *

Rael walked through the fishing village, his boots pressing lightly against the damp wooden planks of the dock-like pathways. The village was small, built on stilts above the marshy waters, with crude lanterns swaying from wooden poles, casting flickering light on the dark waters below. The air carried a strong scent of salt, fish, and damp wood, but he ignored it as he approached a weapon vendor nestled between stacks of fishing nets and barrels.

The vendor, a fish-like humanoid with dull blue scales and webbed fingers, immediately perked up upon spotting the bundle of croc materials on the counter.

"You been hunting swamp crawlers, outsider?" The vendor's gills flared slightly in excitement. "Not bad, not bad. We don't get many who bother with 'em. Scales like that? Mighty fine for crafting."

Rael tapped the counter twice. "You buying or just admiring?"

The fishman let out a raspy chuckle before running his webbed fingers over the stack of croc scales, teeth, and leather. "Oh, I'm buying. In fact—" He reached under the stall, rummaged around for a moment, then pulled out a newly crafted Scale Bow. "—you might like this."

Rael took it and inspected its stats. Not incredible, but definitely better than the basic ranger bow he had been using. It had a slightly higher attack bonus and a passive that slightly increased arrow speed, making precision shots easier.

"Not bad." He nodded, shouldering it.

The vendor, still pleased with the trade, suddenly leaned down again and retrieved a few murky-looking potions, pressing them into Rael's hands with a grin that showed far too many sharp teeth.

"On the house. Some good alcohol for a hunter like you."

Rael uncorked one, sniffed, and immediately regretted it. The stench of brine, fermented seaweed, and something unmistakably fishy hit his nose like a punch. His expression remained neutral, but inwardly, he sighed.

Of course, it was a fishperson saying this.

Sliding the bottles into his inventory without another word, he left the vendor behind and explored the village, hoping to trigger a quest. He chatted with a few fishermen, eavesdropped on NPC conversations, and even helped some random villager carry a crate—all in vain. No hidden storyline, no breadcrumb trail, nothing.

After twenty minutes of aimless wandering, Rael sighed and decided to move on.

No quest, but not empty-handed.

As he left the village, his map updated, revealing a swamp serpent camp nearby. A cluster of aggressive mobs with a slow respawn rate but a consistent drop table—perfect for passive farming.

He took one look at it and smirked.

AFK farm it is.

* * *

Rael's lungs burned, each breath sharper than the last as he sprinted through the swamp, the enraged hisses of the serpents closing in behind him. His legs ached from the relentless pace, but the thought of the venomous breath on his neck pushed him forward. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see one of the serpents spit venom in his direction, narrowly dodging it by veering to the left. The ground beneath him was soft, and each step threatened to slow him down, but he wasn't about to stop now.

Why did I think throwing that brew at them would be a good idea? he cursed himself. The logic had seemed sound at the time: if the fishperson could drink the brew without issues, surely the serpents would be similarly affected.

 But remember that fishy smell? Yeah. That wasn't just some strong liquor.

That was the scent of their dead brethren.

And now, Rael was public enemy number one.

It wasn't long before the sounds of slithering grew louder and closer. Rael's heartbeat quickened. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. Just as panic was starting to take over, his eyes caught sight of something—an opening in the side of the hill, a dark cave entrance. Without thinking, he darted towards it, slipping inside just as the serpents' venomous hissing echoed in the distance.

He pressed himself flat against the cool, wet stone, trying to steady his breathing. The cave was dark, the air thick with dampness. Rael's heart was racing, but he knew he couldn't stay still for too long. The serpents would follow.

They did.

A moment later, the first of the serpents slithered inside, its tongue flicking the air as it tried to catch his scent. Rael held his breath, blending into the shadows, praying they wouldn't spot him. Before they had entered, he'd quickly smeared himself with the thick, cold mud from the cave floor, masking his heat signature. The serpent stopped, flicking its tongue toward the air, confused by the new scent. After a moment, it hissed in frustration and slithered deeper into the cave. The other three followed suit, their hissing voices breaking the silence.

Rael moved quickly, his mind racing through options. He couldn't outrun them for much longer, and the cave's narrow pathways offered little room for maneuvering. His only chance was to take them down, and fast.

One by one. He had to be stealthy, precise. He had no choice.

He shifted further back into the cave, his eyes scanning for an advantage. He spotted it: a sharp rock formation hanging precariously above the serpents. He slowly crept into position, careful not to make a sound. One of the serpents was moving closer, its body coiling as it searched the shadows.

Rael aimed carefully, releasing the tension in his bow. The arrow shot out, striking a sediment spike overhead. It tumbled down, the sharp point impaling the serpent below. It let out a horrific screech before going still.

One down. Three left.

Rael didn't wait to see the reaction. He quickly moved, staying out of the serpents' line of sight. His mind was working at full speed. His only other tool? The last bottle of the fishy brew.

With a swift motion, Rael tossed the bottle to the far side of the cave, hoping the scent would confuse the remaining serpents. The pungent odor wafted through the cave, drawing the serpents' attention.

With the serpents distracted, Rael moved in closer. He crept up behind one of them, dagger ready. The serpent was still sniffing the air, oblivious to the danger. Rael struck, his blade sinking deep into its head. The serpent hissed in pain, but the damage was significant.

One more down.

Rael quickly backed away, cursing his lack of skills. He only had Deadeye, and while it made his headshots deadly, the situation was too chaotic. He had to think fast, but all his options came with a deadly risk.

Rael barely had time to exhale before the remaining two swamp serpents slithered into a loose formation, their forked tongues flicking as they tested the air.

His HP sat at 70, stamina was running low, and the venom from an earlier graze still pulsed through his veins. He had no active skills, just Deadeye—good for headshots, but in a fight like this, precision wasn't always an option.

The serpents circled him, their sleek bodies gliding effortlessly over the damp stone. They had seen what happened to their kin. Now they were careful.

Which meant Rael had a problem.

A direct fight would be messy. He didn't have enough space, and if he tried to outmaneuver them in close quarters, he'd get overwhelmed.

He slowly stepped backward, eyes locked onto the left serpent. It watched him just as intently, waiting for the smallest sign of weakness.

So he gave it one.

With a sharp intake of breath, Rael stumbled on purpose, making his movements look sluggish. His stance loosened, shoulders dropping slightly as if the fight was wearing him down.

The left serpent took the bait.

It lunged forward, fangs bared.

Rael reacted in an instant. Instead of dodging outright, he twisted his body just enough for the attack to graze his side—pain flared, and a fresh burn of venom seeped in, but he ignored it. His real focus was on the motion itself.

HP: 70 → 30

Using the force of its own lunge, he drove his dagger into the side of its head and dragged it down, slamming the creature's skull into the jagged rocks beneath them. Bone cracked, and the serpent thrashed violently for a moment before going limp.

Three down.

Rael sucked in a breath, forcing himself to stay still. His HP barely sat at 30, and the last serpent was already coiling to strike. He had no room to dodge, no time to shoot—

And then it happened.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

A fraction of a second later, a massive force tore through the serpent's skull, sending a ripple of energy through its entire body. Piercing was an understatement—the creature exploded into mist, its body erased by the sheer power of the impact.

Rael didn't move.

Not because he was in shock—though, to be fair, he kind of was—but because his instincts screamed at him. The sheer force behind that shot wasn't normal.

Who…?

His answer came in the form of soft, deliberate footsteps.

From the cave's entrance, a figure emerged—tall, almost seven feet, with lean muscle that gleamed under the dim light. A massive greatbow rested against his back, its frame intricately carved with flowing patterns. But none of that was what caught Rael's full attention.

It was the ears.

Pointed. Sharp. Unmistakable.

An elf.

The man strode forward, stopping just a few feet in front of Rael. His gaze lingered for a long, heavy moment—his piercing golden eyes studying him, as if peeling back his layers and seeing through him entirely.

Then, without a word, he tossed a potion toward Rael.

Rael caught it, the cool glass pressing against his palm. A high-grade potion.

"You're lucky I saved you there." The elf's voice was low but steady, carrying a weight behind it.

Rael gave a short nod. "Thanks." His grip tightened around the bottle, but he didn't down it immediately. Instead, he stayed on guard, his posture cautious.

The elf took note of it and gave a small nod of approval. "Good. Not letting your guard down is the right instinct."

Rael didn't respond, simply watching him. This wasn't a player. That much was obvious.

The elf lifted his bow slightly, resting it against his shoulder. "Introductions are in order. I am Weyrn, a dragon hunter."

A dragon hunter?

That immediately set off alarms in Rael's head. His mind raced, going through what little he knew about the lore of Ascent. He didn't remember anything about a Weyrn, but if this guy was hunting dragons, then he wasn't just some random NPC.

Then it hit him—

I haven't checked his status yet.

Rael activated Scan, eyes narrowing as the information popped up in front of him.

Then his jaw nearly dropped.

[ Weyrn, The Guardian Hunter of the South ]

[ Danger: Death ]

…Well, that explained the explosion of a shot earlier.