The sound of people murmuring echoed across the city square as a crowd began to gather around the raised stage, which had been constructed over the course of a single night—from midnight to morning. That's what Biáshí had told him when he asked how the stage had appeared so suddenly.
He gave the stage a closer look, observing its details and structure. It was a wide platform made of smooth wood, still carrying the strong, fresh scent of lumber. A lush red carpet was laid neatly over it, its texture clearly of high quality.
It seems these people spared no expense... As expected. They probably thought that if the quality was anything less than perfect, I might take offense.
His eyes moved toward the seven separate podiums, and on each one stood a child, ranging in age from thirteen to fifteen. They were adorned in extravagant silk robes, woven with intricate patterns—a blatant display of the wealth and pride of their respective families.
Only seven children, huh? Three boys, and four girls. I was expecting twelve—one from each major family. Seems like my plan didn't work as intended. Or maybe... the other five didn't have children in the age range I asked for. Nevertheless, let's hope these seven possess the knowledge I need. Otherwise, this entire setup is nothing but a waste of time.
He examined each of them more closely.
Two of the boys were dressed in blue, though in different shades. The one in light blue was shorter and slim, with matching blue hair and eyes. The other wore a darker shade—tall, broad-shouldered, with jet-black hair and deep black eyes.
The third boy stood apart in green robes. He was tall and slender, with pale green hair and matching pale green eyes. There was something soft and ethereal about his entire presence.
The girls, in contrast, were all clad in robes of varying shades of red. The style of their outfits was nearly identical, differing only in the delicate embroidery that ran through the fabric. Their hair and eye colors distinguished them: one tall girl had blue hair and blue eyes; another, who was shorter, had red; the medium-height girl had pink; and the tallest among them had pitch-black hair and matching eyes. In all of them, the hair and eye colors were a perfect match—almost unnaturally so.
His gaze then shifted to the large, ornate chairs arranged just outside the stage. There were eight in total. Seated in seven of them were the patriarchs of the families to which these children belonged. The eighth chair was taken by Biáshí, with the city librarian standing respectfully behind her, silent like a shadow.
Each patriarch had brought along other members of their family. Some even had small children with them, though most of the little ones appeared to be no older than three or four—far too young to be of any use and clearly excluded from the event.
Only seven major families... Where are the other five? And what about the minor ones...?
There was no trace of them among the crowd. Only commoners stood watching.
Did they refuse to attend? Or is something else going on...?
Just then, one of the workers walked in, carrying a small table. He carefully placed it near the stage. On it sat a blue crystal orb, its surface etched with the symbol of a pentagon.
Impossible...
His eyes widened for a brief moment.
To think something like that exists here too...
He recognized the crystal instantly—and why wouldn't he? It was the [Eye of Laima], a cash shop item from Deus Gracious.
A low-tier purchase, sure—but still valuable. It allowed players to broadcast messages directly to the global chat without restrictions, and more importantly, it could reveal hidden locations on the world map that weren't easily discovered through normal exploration.
Unlike the items that could be acquired through in-game content—classified as Normal, Uncommon, Rare, Super Rare, Legendary, and Divine—cash shop items were sorted differently. They were divided into Low, Mid, and High tiers, based on their utility rather than rarity. The [Eye of Laima] fell under the low-tier category, but even so, it was extremely useful. It was only available during specific timed events, which made it difficult to obtain in large numbers unless one had stocked up in advance.
This begs the question... how did these people get their hands on it? Its genuinely surprising. This sort of item shouldn't exist in a place like this—not naturally. Unless... someone brought it here. Perhaps another player. Or maybe the locals stumbled across it somewhere...
He preferred to believe it was the latter. But deep down, he knew the chances of it being the former were much higher.
However, if I'm wrong... and this really did come from another player... then it's possible that several others arrived before me...
The thought sent a chill down his spine, wrapping his mind in a new, unwelcome layer of anxiety.
My build isn't meant for PvP. If I end up facing someone of equal level—but with a more optimized or aggressive setup—I wouldn't stand a chance.
His hand clenched tightly.
Why... why does the difficulty keep increasing? How am I supposed to live a long and peaceful life if problems like this keep popping up?!
If it weren't for the calm expression he had to maintain in front of everyone, he might have already started clawing at his own face—ripping at the skin until none was left, pulling at his hair until his scalp became a barren wasteland.
He forced himself to calm down.
At least now I know that other players might exist... or at the very least, some elements of Deus Gracious do exist in this world. I just hope the game's bosses don't show up—if they do, there won't be a single safe place left on this entire continent... maybe even the world.
"Lord Immortal...?"
.
A voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He turned around—it was the announcer from earlier, looking at him with a tense expression. And he wasn't alone. Many others were watching him with the same uneasy look.
"Yes...?" he replied, his tone neutral.
"Is everything to your liking?"
"Why do you ask such a question?"
"It's just that... you've been silent for a while now. Just staring at the stage and everything around it. We weren't sure if something was wrong..."
"I see. You don't need to worry," he replied calmly. "I was simply lost in thought—something I needed to reflect on internally."
Then, he added, "From now on, just call me Lord Lylias. That's my name. Calling me Immortal might attract unnecessary attention. Make sure everyone else understands that too."
Being addressed as an immortal was never a good idea—especially in a world where so-called immortals, devils, or demons could very well show up either to prove their strength… or worse, to try and steal his soul for power.
He didn't need more trouble than he already had.
The announcer stepped away, relaying Lylias's message to the crowd, who all nodded in understanding. Lylias then walked toward Biáshí—a movement that made all seven patriarchs and their families tense up, their eyes closely following his every step.
"You know," he said, his tone casual but firm, "I would've felt better if the rest were present here in person instead of relying on a 'Eye of Laima' to broadcast this, while hiding inside their houses and mansions. Nevertheless, if they don't want to come, that's their own choice, I suppose."
There was a visible shift in the atmosphere at those words—surprise rippled through the group.
"You… you know how our divine artifact works?" said one of the patriarchs, Lin Hao, blinking in disbelief.
"Yes, I know. And it's not divine—not even close. It's actually a rather low-tier item," he said casually, pulling out two [Tears of Laima] from his inventory and holding them up for all to see.
Gasps of disbelief echoed through the crowd.
"How… how do you have two of our sacred artifacts?! The immortal who granted it to our city said it was one of a kind!" exclaimed another patriarch, Yu Chíâng.
"Yours must be fake!"
The crowd gasped again, horrified that Yu Chíâng had dared to say such a thing.
He had just poked his finger into a hornet's nest.
"Mind your tone," Lylias said coldly, his voice dropping a few degrees. "You seem to have forgotten who I am."
Suddenly, Yu Chíâng began to choke, his body tensing as if an invisible grip had closed around his throat, tightening with each passing second.
"Lord Lylias, please," Biáshí quickly interjected, bowing her head. "Forgive Yu Chíâng for his moment of insolence."
At her words, Lylias released his unseen hold. Yu Chíâng fell back into his seat, gasping for breath.
"You know," Lylias said, his expression unreadable, "I will discuss this matter thoroughly with you later. But for now, let's get on with the event."
He turned back toward the stage and addressed the participants.
"Before we begin... why don't each of you give me your introductions?"