Silversky Town

The players swarmed Lena like locusts.

"Saintess! How do I get quests? What's the fastest way to level up?"

"Lady Lena, can I have your autograph?"

"I really want to touch that tail…"

"Are you guys recruiting new believers?"

"Whoa, her expressions are so lifelike! You can't even tell she's an NPC!"

"Saintess, I want to fu—hey, why are my words getting censored?"

"Dude, show some respect. She might be an NPC, but she's got a hyper-advanced AI. She's practically a real person."

"Yeah, for real! Look, she's blushing! She looks so flustered… it's adorable. Makes me wanna…"

Trapped in the center of the mob, Lena wore a look of bewildered helplessness. She had imagined the summoned Awakened to be valiant, disciplined warriors. The reality, however, was that the grand plaza, specially cleared to welcome them, had devolved into a chaotic, shrieking marketplace.

She cast a desperate glance toward Riven, only to find his situation was even worse. He was nearly buried under successive waves of Awakened, all of them peppering him with questions about class abilities.

These Awakened were flippant, their words were crude, and some were even trying to get close enough to touch her, though a mysterious force seemed to prevent their hands from making contact. In the distance, one of them clambered onto a high rooftop and, with a series of whoops, leaped off. A crowd of other Awakened cheered as his body hit the ground.

Right, Lena concluded. They might also be insane.

While she knew the Awakened could be resurrected, albeit at some cost, she could not fathom the grotesque mentality that treated suicide as a form of entertainment. Their temperament wasn't that of heroes. It was closer to that of one of the continent's baser creatures—goblins. Just as chaotic, just as noisy, and just as utterly incomprehensible.

Goddess above, she prayed silently, her heart sinking with dread, are these truly the ones who will lead the beastkin back to glory?

But the Goddess's commands had been clear. She had even been granted access to something called a 'panel,' a tool through which she could issue tasks to the Awakened. Every moment they spent on the Continent of Destiny—especially when killing its enemies or turning in its resources—would replenish the Goddess's own divine energy, her godhood. When these Awakened completed what they called 'quests,' a portion of that godhood would be fed back to them, enhancing their power. A self-sustaining cycle.

The Awakened called it 'leveling up,' and they seemed pathologically obsessed with it. Of the roaring sea of people before her, the vast majority were screaming questions about how to do it faster.

Forcing down her anxiety, Lena plastered a gentle, approachable smile onto her face.

"The beastkin tribes are scattered and our people suffer," she projected, her voice cutting through the din. "We must build a new, hidden home. Many of our kin are still wandering the borderlands as exiles or are enslaved within human cities. I ask for your aid, noble Awakened. Help me find our lost kin. Help me rescue those who live in chains."

Will that work? Will they even listen to me? she worried.

The moment she finished speaking, the crowd erupted once more.

"Quests! We got quests!"

"Okay, let's see… gather lumber, hunt game, and quarry stone in the forests near Silversky Town to prepare a temporary beastkin encampment?"

"'Remain wary of the Silversky Town militia and gather intelligence for the Saintess.'"

"'Search the borderlands for wandering beastkin.'"

"'Rescue enslaved beastkin.'"

"Whoa, all of them except the first one are group quests!"

"Gathering intel is a group quest? Are you trying to get caught? A whole squad of us sneaking around is gonna be a little obvious."

"It's not a problem if we just kill all the guards! We can get the intel from their corpses!"

At that moment, Riven, who had been silent, strode through the crowd. He knelt on one knee before Lena, his star-like eyes gazing up at her. "Lady Lena," he said, his voice now imbued with a gentle warmth. "I will lead a portion of the Awakened into Silversky Town. We will find our enslaved brethren and bring them home."

The players were stunned to find their perspective suddenly shifting, their attention involuntarily locking onto Riven and Lena. Though many were far away, they could hear the exchange with perfect clarity and see every minute expression. This, they realized, was a main story cutscene. Their suspicions were confirmed as a new quest blazed into existence in their UI, marked in red and pinned to the top.

[Main Quest: Follow the child of destiny, Riven, into Silversky Town. Search for and rescue the enslaved beastkin. Note: Avoid alerting the Silversky Town guards if possible, as it may complicate your mission.]

*****

"So, this decrepit hovel is Silversky Town?"

Alistair's face was a mask of disgust as he scraped a foul substance from the sole of his boot onto a stone step. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed a settlement this filthy, chaotic, and broken could exist within his own domain.

The ground was packed, dusty earth, littered with the droppings of men and beasts. The town walls were crumbling and stained with age. The buildings were antiquated and in desperate need of repair. The only impressive greenery, Alistair noted with a grimace, was a large tree growing straight out of the roof of a peasant's home.

"What in the hells was the previous lord doing?" he fumed. "I don't care how poor the resources are or how far it is from the capital. There is no excuse for such abysmal governance!"

"My lord Alistair," Thorne, his retainer, said, sensing his master's fury. "The previous lord was Count Herbert of House Stonecrag. He was a war-monger, a fanatical devotee of Dracoth. His entire tenure was spent waging war, primarily against the orcs. He utterly neglected administration. In truth, the Frostfell domain wasn't always so large that one needed a gryphon to traverse it. All this extra land… Count Herbert carved it from the orc territories himself."

"Herbert?" Alistair dredged up a memory of a portly, bearded man with a greasy, perpetual smile. He never would have pegged him as a warrior. "So I'm supposed to thank him for leaving me a larger, filthier version of Frostfell?"

He stared at the borderline-feral town, speechless. Territory wasn't just about size; larger domains were exponentially harder to manage, especially a borderland region like Frostfell with its motley population. He made a note: begin an urban renewal project immediately.

Even dark lords have magnificent citadels, he thought. And here I am, Alistair, Count of Frostfell, the future's greatest villain and the sworn nemesis of all Murderhobos, with a seat of power that looks like a forgotten slum. The shame of it.

On the crooked town wall, a few militiamen had spotted Alistair and Thorne. They didn't know his face, but they recognized the Goldenlion crest on his armor. One of them immediately scrambled down and ran to meet them.

"Honored lord. I am Goodwin, Captain of the Silversky Town Guard. How may we be of service?"

Alistair looked the man up and down, and a slow smirk spread across his face. Well, well. A familiar face.

In his past life, he'd seen player-made videos from the first closed beta on the game forums. They'd included walkthroughs of the quest to save the beastkin slaves in Silversky Town. Goodwin here had been a notorious elite-level warrior, a minor roadblock who had given early players no end of trouble.

Curiosity piqued, Alistair instinctively checked the man's information.

[Name: Goodwin]

[Identity: Captain of the Silversky Town Guard]

[Power Level: Intermediate Swordsman Lv. 13 (11-20)]

[Skills: Cleave, Piercing Thrust]

[Equipment: Guard Plate Armor (Common), Guard Longsword (Common)]

[Reputation (Pyrian Empire): 31 (A respected man in Silversky Town)]

[Reputation (Beastkin Clans): -3 (Barely Known)]

Alistair smirked. "Ah, classic. The legendary two-button warrior himself: Captain Cleave-and-Thrust."

He nodded to himself. What a talent. The guy only has two skills, but he managed to turn them into a 'combo'... a really annoying one at that.

According to the old storyline, however, this captain was destined to die at the players' hands, his death serving as the trigger to draw out the town's mini-boss: Mayor Merriweather.

The mayors of the county's towns weren't just commoners; they were typically minor nobles or stewards sworn to the Count. That made Merriweather his vassal, a man assigned by his family to help manage the territory. A useless one, at that. From what Alistair recalled from the forums, the man was not only cartoonishly evil but also pathetically weak.

"Summon your mayor, Merriweather. Now," Alistair commanded, his expression hardening at the thought of the man's incompetence.

He felt a pang of appreciation for Goodwin's potential and considered taking him back to his personal keep, Snowmantle Citadel, for proper training.

As for the rest of these incompetents? They could die, for all he cared. It was necessary for the plot. If they didn't die, the "heroes" couldn't capture Silversky Town, and the newbie starting zone would never be established.

When the guards found Merriweather, he was in the middle of a vigorous session with his maid. Interrupted, he was about to snatch his whip from the wall to teach the guard a lesson when he heard who was asking for him: a young man wearing the Goldenlion crest.

His erection vanished instantly.

A young noble with the Goldenlion crest? Here in Frostfell, who could that be but Count Alistair himself? Shoving the maid aside, Merriweather scrambled for his clothes, not even bothering to fasten them properly as he stumbled and crawled his way into Alistair's presence.

"My esteemed Lord Alistair!" Merriweather exclaimed, a fawning smile plastered on his face as he bowed so low his head nearly touched his knees. "Venerable servant that I am, I have prayed to the God of Luck day and night, and he has finally brought you to me! Oh, you cannot imagine how I have missed you, my lord, how I have thought of you…"

Alistair looked at the fat, bowing, scraping middle-aged man and sneered, glancing at his stats.

[Name: Merriweather]

[Identity: Mayor of Silversky Town]

[Power Level: Knight Lv. 11 (11-20)]

[Skills: Mounted Charge (Requires Mount), Lanced Thrust (Requires Mount)]

[Equipment: Fine Artisan Armor (Excellent), Ancestral Longsword (Excellent)]

[Reputation (Pyrian Empire): -51 (Infamous in Silversky Town)]

[Reputation (Beastkin Clans): -377 (Loathed by the beastkin)]

Two pathetic knight skills, the kind you learn for free at the academy, both useless without a horse, Alistair thought, shaking his head. This man is completely rotten.

"Merriweather, I have one question for you. Have there been any… disturbances… in Silversky Town recently?"

Does he know about my… indiscretions? The mayor's heart leaped into his throat. He couldn't, could he? He lives so far away… His mind raced, but he came up with nothing.

Merriweather forced another smile. "Lord Alistair, you can rest assured, Silversky Town is the very picture of peace! The people are happy, prosperous, and often speak of your boundless generosity and wisdom…"

"Bullshit!" Alistair's cold laugh cut through the mayor's flattery like a whip crack. Merriweather's face went white. "The beastkin have infiltrated your very walls and you know nothing? In that case, consider yourself on temporary leave from your mayoral duties. I will assume the role. You can stand guard here. When you've figured out what's happening, you may petition for your position back."

Goodwin, standing to the side, was completely baffled. "My… my lord?" he stammered, a note of panic in his voice. What was happening? He had a family to feed on that stipend!

"You," Alistair said, pointing at Goodwin. "You're my new personal guard. Your pay is doubled."

"Sir!" Goodwin's panic vanished. He snapped to attention and moved smartly to stand behind Alistair, his expression now perfectly neutral, though inwardly he was fighting back a smile.

"Lord Alistair, I…" Merriweather began.

"You will stand guard right here. You will do what the Captain of the Guard does. Oh, and your horse? I'll be taking it."

Without another glance at the ashen-faced Merriweather, Alistair turned and, with Thorne and Goodwin in tow, began walking toward the mayor's residence.

...

A grand show was about to unfold in Silversky Town. Alistair stood on the highest balcony of the mayoral manor, a sense of keen anticipation bubbling within him. He had found the best seat in the house.