chapter 81 task
A Noble's Death – Lara's Deadly Request
Lara Valienne swirled the wine in her glass, watching the deep red liquid catch the candlelight. The playful amusement that had once laced her voice had vanished, replaced with a cold, razor-sharp focus.
She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her gaze piercing into Kaelith like a dagger.
"I need Noble Marcos dead."
Her words were delivered with the same casual tone one might use to discuss the weather. There was no hesitation, no emotion—just an order.
Kaelith remained still, his face unreadable.
"Any specific reason?"
Lara smirked, setting her glass down on the nearby table.
"Curious now, are we?" She tilted her head slightly. "Let's just say he's an obstacle. And I don't like obstacles."
Kaelith wasn't fooled.
There was always more to these noble disputes.
Lara wasn't the type to move without reason. Killing another noble wasn't a simple task—it meant someone would benefit, and someone would suffer.
Was she cleaning up loose ends? Or making space for herself?
It didn't matter. What mattered was how much she was willing to pay.
Lara's lips curled upward.
"I don't care about the method. There's no time limit. Just kill him."
She tapped her fingers lightly against the wooden armrest of her chair, her expression unreadable.
Then she added, "Do this, and I'll give you far better rewards than that little Frozen Arrow book."
Rewards.
That was the bait.
Kaelith understood the game. Nobles never gave anything for free. There was always a hook hidden beneath the surface.
Then, a system notification appeared before his eyes.
---
[System Alert]
New Quest: 'Eliminate Noble Marcos'
Kill Noble Marcos (Lv. 5).
No time limit.
Reward: ???
Status Upgrade: Peasant → Name-Little Rest
(Some NPCs now recognize you by name. Respect slightly increased.)
---
Kaelith's grip on the emblem of Second-Rate Citizenship tightened slightly.
Name-Little Rest.
It was a minor title, but it carried weight. In this world, status determined everything.
The fact that Lara was elevating him meant she saw him as useful—for now.
Kaelith gave a small nod.
"Consider it done."
Lara's smirk widened as she leaned back into her seat, reclining comfortably.
"Good. Let's see how well you handle noble politics, peasant."
Kaelith turned on his heel and walked toward the door, his mind already shifting into planning mode.
---
Outside the Noble Estate – Calculating the Kill
As soon as Kaelith stepped into the cold evening air, he exhaled slowly.
The noble district was different from the common streets of Greenhaven. The cobblestone roads were cleaner, the buildings grander, and the presence of city guards was far more frequent.
Killing a noble here wouldn't be easy.
Noble Marcos was level 5—stronger than the average adventurer, but not unbeatable.
But this wasn't about strength.
The real challenge was location.
Kaelith knew that nobles were protected. Killing Marcos in broad daylight was suicide.
He needed to find:
1. Where Marcos lived.
2. His daily schedule.
3. His weaknesses.
Stealth, deception, and patience. That was the key.
Kaelith's eyes flickered toward the folded letter in his pocket—the one Malthor had secretly handed him.
Did it have something to do with this?
His next step was clear. Find out where Marcos was weakest.
And then—strike.
A Bond Sealed with Gold – Veryon's Loyalty
Kaelith moved through the quiet backstreets of Greenhaven, the dim glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. He knew his destination well—Veryon's alchemy workshop.
Unlike other alchemists, Veryon wasn't running a business. He didn't sell to random adventurers or merchants. Every potion he made was exclusively for Kaelith. Their bond had been forged through countless struggles in the game's past, and Kaelith knew he could trust Veryon when few others deserved it.
As Kaelith stepped inside the workshop, the familiar bitter-sweet aroma of alchemical reagents filled the air. The room was cluttered, glass bottles and herbs stacked on wooden shelves, half-finished concoctions bubbling in cauldrons.
Veryon stood at his worktable, carefully pouring a glowing blue liquid into a set of vials. His hands moved with practiced precision, his sharp eyes focused on his craft.
Without looking up, he smirked.
"You're late. Thought you got yourself killed."
Kaelith chuckled, tossing a heavy leather pouch onto the wooden table. The metallic jingle of golden credits rang through the room.
Veryon froze.
His fingers, which had been so steady a moment ago, twitched slightly as he set down the vial. Slowly, he reached out and pulled the pouch toward him.
Untying the string, he peeked inside—10,000 golden credits.
For a long moment, he didn't say a word.
His lips pressed together, his jaw clenched ever so slightly. His fingers tightened around the pouch, the weight of the coins far heavier than gold alone.
"…What's this?" His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
Kaelith leaned against the table, arms crossed. "Your salary."
Veryon let out a short breath, one that wasn't quite a laugh. He stared at the coins, his thumb brushing against the edge of the pouch as if testing if it was real.
"You're paying me now?" he muttered, voice laced with something unreadable. "Since when do we need something like this?"
Kaelith shrugged. "Friends don't let friends work for free."
Veryon scoffed, shaking his head. His usual smirk faltered, just for a second.
Kaelith knew.
Knew that Veryon had been grinding away in this workshop, crafting potions day and night for him without a single complaint. Knew that Veryon never asked for anything in return.
And now?
Now Kaelith was acknowledging it.
Veryon exhaled through his nose, tying the pouch back up before tossing it onto a nearby shelf—casually, almost dismissively.
"Hah… Fine." His smirk returned, though this time there was something softer beneath it. "But don't expect a discount."
Kaelith grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it."
Veryon turned back to his work, but his shoulders were a little lighter.
The weight of the gold was nothing compared to the weight of recognition.