Windchesterftw

In a future where cutting-edge holographic technology blurs the line between games and reality, Mercenary World emerges as the most advanced and immersive MMO ever created—backed by global governments and boasting a 98% reality simulation rate. Players are thrust into a living, breathing world of myth, magic, and warfare, where completing god-level missions can earn real-world riches.

Dawei, a nearly 30-year-old veteran gamer down on his luck, quits World of Warcraft and watches helplessly as other players become millionaires overnight. Driven by desperation and a spark of ambition, he spends his last savings on a full VR setup and logs into Mercenary World, determined to turn his life around.

But fate plays a cruel joke—or perhaps a hidden blessing—when he’s randomly assigned a notoriously impossible S-class mission: Kill the Three-Headed Dragon. Without gear, skills, or allies, he’s dropped into a crumbling city under siege by a monster that no player has ever defeated.

Yet in this ultra-realistic world, Dawei stumbles upon an unexpected loophole: the mission doesn’t immediately fail if he flees. Realizing the game rewards creative problem-solving over brute strength, Dawei begins to uncover the true nature of god-tier missions—ones not designed for brute force, but for those bold enough to think beyond the system.

Armed with only his wits, gaming instincts, and a system-assigned name as unimpressive as “Burdock,” Dawei begins his journey—not just to beat the game, but to beat the odds stacked against every underdog.

The Mercenary World Of Online Games

Montictu had taken centuries—centuries—to discover the secret. But Dawei?

"That's the fun of it! That's the thrill of logical deduction. Sure, Montictu had time. But this is a game. Montictu didn't really battle for hundreds of years—it was the programmer's design, scripted to make it feel that way. That means…" he narrowed his eyes, "...I can figure it out too."

The truth wasn't locked behind time—it was locked behind understanding.

And he was about to break it open.

A glancing blow from Sindellow's tail jolted him back to the present. Dawei narrowly avoided the worst of it, breaking into evasive maneuvers mid-thought. Distraction meant death. He returned to dodging, watching, waiting.

No skills. No flashy combos. Just pure melee.

Each time he slashed with claws, the Count barely reacted—arrogant, disdainful, even when minor damage numbers popped up. But when Dawei lunged forward to bite, something shifted.

Sindellow always dodged.

The same vampire who stood proud against storms of damage—who allowed hits to land on his wings, chest, arms—never let Dawei's fangs sink in.

Dawei's pupils shrank. That's it. That's the crack.

It was a mechanic.

Bite. Not tear. Not claw. Bite.

He remembered Jugutra—the dark prophet who'd experimented on him. That lunatic had been more afraid of bites than spells. At the time, Dawei thought it was just narrative drama.

Jugutra feared infection. He was terrified of the werewolf virus spreading to his twisted, modified vampire DNA. He even called it the power to kill the Count.

And Jugutra was no ally of Sindellow.

That meant Sindellow was just as vulnerable—maybe even more so.

Werewolf virus = infection.Infection = data overwrite.Data overwrite = erase vampire template.Erase template = Sindellow's identity collapses.Sindellow's identity collapses = instant death.

A fatal bug designed as a feature.

From the designer's perspective, Sindellow's existence as "Count of Vampires" wasn't just narrative—it was code. And if that core data got corrupted—if the system recognized him as a hybrid, a broken entity—he'd be terminated like glitched data.

Elegant. Brutal. Beautiful.

Brother wasn't just a survivor anymore. Brother was holding the sword of gods.

He almost wanted to taunt the Count right then and there. "Hey Sindellow! Guess what? I found the dragon-slaying skill!"

The temptation to gloat was real.

After all, it's easy to show off in front of other players. But to flex in front of a god-level NPC boss? That was next-level. That was elite-tier swagger. Players lived for moments like this.

"Nope. Not yet. The boss can still fly. If I spook him too early, he might retreat."

Dawei's breath slowed. He focused.

"Patience. Calm. This is a one-shot strategy. No retries."

He re-analyzed the infection mechanics. If the Count got infected and began to turn… the system would forcibly suppress Dawei's werewolf state. That was the trade-off.

No more werewolf powers. No more passive buffs. Just back to being a mortal.

That was the cost of killing a god.

Dawei clenched his jaw. "Worth it."

He didn't come this far to pull back. He didn't dodge boss raids, survive tail smashes, and unravel system mechanics just to be afraid of consequences.

He cracked his neck, locked eyes with Sindellow, and smirked.

"If it's gonna work, then brother's going full crazy."

No hesitation. No turning back.

His character blurred into a silver streak, leaping toward the ten-meter-tall vampire with everything he had. No skills. No enhancements. Just pure instinct and one target in mind—

One word. One path. One truth.

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