Crimson continued his journey to the western border, a daunting 2,937 miles from the capital city of the Heartless Republic. As he moved swiftly through the dense, twisted trees of the dead forest, he cut down every monster that crossed his path.
Each strike of his blade was precise and lethal, his battle-honed instincts guiding his every move. The corrupted beasts fell before him, their twisted forms collapsing into piles of flesh and bone.
With his dimensional storage ring now accessible, he took the opportunity to collect the corpses of particularly valuable monsters. He knew that the National Agency of Adventurers (NAA) would pay handsomely for rare and powerful monster remains, which could be used for crafting high-level gear, potions, and enchantments.
The forest gradually thinned as he moved further west, the air becoming clearer and the ground less corrupted.
After four hours of nonstop travel, Crimson finally broke free from the twisted grasp of the dead forest. It was now 6 p.m., and the horizon ahead opened up into wide, rolling fields with gentle hills that stretched as far as the eye could see.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape. Shadows stretched long across the ground, signaling that dusk was approaching, though the light still lingered, painting the clouds with streaks of orange and purple.
Crimson paused for a moment, standing atop a small hill. He took a deep breath, the crisp, untainted air a welcome change from the oppressive, decaying atmosphere of the dead forest. His senses remained sharp, scanning for any signs of danger as he continued his journey toward the distant western border.
Crimson's sharp eyes caught movement on the far side of the hill. Dozens of monsters roamed the fields ahead, their twisted forms moving in the waning daylight. He clenched his fist, remembering the old game mechanic — at precisely 7:30 p.m., every monster on this continent would double in strength, becoming far more aggressive and dangerous until the break of dawn at 6 a.m.
Back then, the risk was balanced by double the drop rewards, making night hunting a dangerous but often profitable endeavor for high-level players. But with the system changes, crimson already knew that the monsters he'd slain in the dead forest didn't vanish or drop loot like before. This fueled his suspicion, while the game systems had clearly changed, the nighttime danger might still remain unchanged.
He tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the distant figures of roaming beasts. "If their power still doubles at night like before, I need to stay sharp," he thought, moving swiftly across the uneven terrain, his steps light but purposeful as he continued his journey toward the western border.
As Crimson resumed his journey, he realized that he had already covered a distance of 121 miles in the past four hours. While this might seem slow for someone of his power, the terrain had been challenging, and he hadn't just been moving — he had also been clearing the path of monsters.
Every few miles, he encountered groups of vicious creatures lurking in the shadows of twisted trees or emerging from the dense underbrush. Some were low-level, barely worth his attention, while others were high-level elites that would have once required entire raid parties to defeat. Yet, for him, they were just a minor inconvenience. His blade cut through them with deadly precision, and his magic flared like lightning as he struck down anything that dared cross his path.
But it wasn't just monsters. He also came across scattered groups of local residents — traders, players, local adventurers, and even small families who had wandered too close to the now-dangerous outskirts of the capital. More than once, he had to intervene to save a merchant caravan from a pack of feral wolves or a band of goblin marauders. In each case, his arrival was met with wide-eyed gratitude and hurried bows, the locals whispering among themselves as they watched the mysterious warrior cut down their would-be killers without hesitation.
Most of these residents didn't recognize him. After all, it had been fifty years since the original six High Elders had vanished, and many of the younger generations had only heard legends about the founding leaders of the Heartless Republic. Unlike the players, who instantly recognized his unique battle gear and the Heartless insignia on his armor, the ordinary citizens saw him as just another powerful adventurer cutting his way through the wilderness.
For now, this anonymity suited him. It allowed him to travel without attracting too much attention and focus on his mission without getting bogged down by the formalities of his old status. But he knew that the moment he entered a major city or crossed paths with the more experienced adventurers, his identity would spread like wildfire.
After a while of travelling with constant fighting with the monsters. Night had fully settled over the republic, but the land still hummed with restless energy. Crimson Aegis moved steadily beneath the darkened sky, the distant stars faintly visible through a thin veil of clouds. The air was cool, laced with the scent of pine and earth from the forest he had just emerged from. The whispering dead forest was behind him now, its shadows creeping toward the city like a bad memory.
Before him stretched rolling fields that gently rose and fell, dotted with scattered patches of wild grass swaying in the soft breeze. This part of the journey was quieter, yet Crimson's keen eyes scanned every shadow, every rustle of leaves, alert for signs of danger. The western border lay some 2,800 miles ahead, a daunting distance by any measure, even for someone of his prowess.
His boots made no sound on the soft earth as he walked. His mind wandered briefly to the encounter with Jerickal, leader of the Heartless Knights of Hospitaller, before he had pressed on alone. The camaraderie and respect in that brief exchange had rekindled a familiar warmth — the bond forged in battle and duty. Yet Crimson knew his path must be solitary for now; some missions were meant to be borne alone.
he paused on a hilltop, his breath misting in the cool night air. His blade dripped with dark monster ichor, the ground around him littered with the twitching remains of the night's predators. Blood still steamed on his gauntlets, a grim reminder of the ceaseless battles he had fought since leaving the capital.
The monsters had been relentless — packs of mutated wolves with glowing, ember-like eyes, grotesque spider swarms whose skittering legs sounded like a chorus of whispered death, and towering ogres that crashed through the underbrush like living siege engines. Yet none had slowed Crimson's advance for long. His blade cut through them like a scythe through wheat, each strike a blur of lethal precision. Sparks of crimson energy crackled along his blade's edge, and his every movement was a deadly dance fueled by his burning need to reach the border and to uncover the truth behind the growing darkness.
As he crested another hill, the faint crackle of a campfire reached his ears. Voices drifted on the cool night breeze — low, cautious, yet unmistakably human. For the first time in hours, Crimson's lips curled into a faint smile. It was rare to encounter familiar faces so far from the capital, especially under the shroud of night.
Moving with ghost-like silence, he stepped into the circle of firelight. His figure seemed to materialize from the darkness, the warm glow catching the crimson accents of his armor and the faint shimmer of dried monster ichor on his blade.
The three figures around the fire snapped to attention, hands instinctively reaching for their weapons before recognition dawned on their faces.
"Master Crimson?" One of them breathed, a young woman with sharp, vigilant eyes and a faint scar crossing her cheek. She dropped to one knee in a fluid motion, bowing her head. "It is truly you!"
The second figure, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a twin-bladed sword strapped across his back, quickly followed suit. "Master Crimson, we never expected to see you out here!" His voice carried a mix of awe and relief.
The third, a slender figure wrapped in a dark hood, hesitated only a moment before also kneeling. His voice was lower, tinged with a hint of disbelief. "We thought the High Elders were still in the capital, preparing for the assembly."
Crimson's gaze swept over them, his eyes gleaming with reflected firelight. He recognized the insignia on their armor, the emblem of the Heartless Guild. These were not mere wanderers or local adventurers. They were fellow guild members hardened players, tempered by countless battles and bound by the same unyielding code.
"Stand," he commanded, his voice calm but resolute. "What brings you so far from the capital at this hour?"
The young woman rose first, her expression a mix of fierce loyalty and quiet pride. "We're returning to the capital, Master Crimson. We received the assembly order and set out immediately. The roads are dangerous, and we thought it best to travel together."
The tall warrior nodded, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. "We've already had to cut down a dozen packs of monsters just to make it this far. The land has grown wild in your absence."
Crimson's gaze lingered on them, noting the weariness in their eyes, the dirt and dried blood on their armor, but also the unwavering spark of determination that had carried them this far. "You choose wisely. The journey back to the capital is not as safe as it once was."
The hooded figure leaned forward slightly, his voice lower, almost a whisper. "We heard rumors, Master Crimson… That you were on the move. Some say you are headed to the border."
Crimson inclined his head. "You heard it correctly. I am travelling to the western border to investigate the disturbances there. This is not just about the assembly, there is a greater threat that demands my attention."
The three exchanged silent, knowing glances. The tall warrior stepped forward, resolve in his eyes. "Should we accompany you, Master? The road ahead is dangerous, and we would be honored to fight by your side."
Crimson's expression softened just slightly. "No. Return to the capital and make your preparations. The Heartless Guild must be ready to face whatever comes. I will move faster alone."
The young woman's eyes shimmered with a mix of pride and disappointment. "As you command, Master Crimson. We will not fail you."
Crimson's gaze softened further, just for a heartbeat. "I trust you."
He also reminded them, his voice firm but laced with genuine concern, "Be cautious on your way back. The Field of the Guardian Butcher, where my manor once stood, has become a dense, dead forest. It's not the place you remember, and the creatures within it are far more dangerous now. Avoid entering it if you can."
The three players exchanged uneasy glances, the tall warrior tightening his grip on his twin blades. The young woman, her sharp eyes reflecting the firelight, gave a quick nod. "Understood, Master Crimson. We'll keep to the main roads and avoid the forest."
The hooded figure pulled his cloak tighter around himself, his face hidden but his voice steady. "Thank you for the warning, Master. We will heed it."
A solemn silence followed, broken only by the crackling of the campfire. The three adventurers bowed once more, the young woman pressing a clenched fist to her chest, a gesture of unwavering loyalty.
Crimson gave a final nod, Crimson turned and his cloak swirling in the cold night air, the crimson edges catching the faintest glimmer of the firelight. He continued his march, his figure soon swallowed by the darkness of the night.
Behind him, the three adventurers remained by the fire, watching until his shadow faded into the distance. Their hearts burned with renewed purpose.
"Master Crimson is truly on the move…" the young woman whispered, her hand still clenched against her chest. "If he believes the border is threatened, then we cannot afford to be unprepared."
The tall warrior nodded, a fierce determination in his eyes. "We must return to the capital at once. The Heartless Guild needs to be ready."
The hooded figure's voice was barely audible, but the weight of his words was clear. "If Master Crimson is taking this threat seriously… then it is no mere rumor."
The three adventurers silently gathered their gear, dousing the campfire and setting out beneath the starlit sky. Though they traveled east, away from the darkness Crimson pursued, their spirits were lit by his unwavering resolve.
Meanwhile, Crimson moved swiftly through the night, the shadows seeming to part before him. His journey had only just begun, but the path ahead was fraught with unknown dangers. Yet with every step, his resolve only grew stronger. The border called to him, a silent promise of answers — and of the darkness he was destined to confront.