Leaving the blacksmith's shop, Miguel followed the familiar path toward the village gates, his boots crunching softly against the dirt road. Along the way, he casually tossed the crude wooden stick from his starter pack into his ring's storage space. It had already served its purpose; now, it was nothing more than dead weight.
Instead, his fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of the longsword gifted to him by Huang Tao, the quiet blacksmith whose past tragedy had unlocked a hidden quest. Miguel lifted the blade and called up its information window, his eyes narrowing with interest.
[Heavenpiercer Sword] (Sealed) (Quest Item)
Grade: ???
Requirements: None
Base Stats: Strength +50
Additional Effects:
+20 Strength
+10% Physical Penetration
+20% Attack Speed
Description: A sword was once acquired by Huang Tao's ancestor through sheer luck. If its seals are ever fully lifted, this blade will have the power to slay gods and demons alike.
Miguel's lips curled into a faint smirk. Godmaking Online was filled with legendary items inspired by the culture and myths of Earth, crafted by the mysterious will of the universe that governed this world. The Heavenpiercer Sword was one of them—a piece of history given form, sealed but brimming with latent power.
"To hold something this strong at level zero… my leveling speed will be ridiculous." Miguel thought as he gently ran his thumb along the sword's cool edge, feeling a flicker of anticipation surge through him.
Of course, for now, it was locked as a quest item. He could wield it freely within the novice village's boundaries, but if he were to teleport to the main city without completing the hidden quest, the sword would automatically vanish, returning to Huang Tao.
As he strolled toward the village gates, countless players' gazes followed him, their eyes wide with open envy. Most beginners were stuck with splintered wooden sticks or blunt knives that barely qualified as weapons. Miguel, however, strode past with a sleek, deadly-looking longsword hanging casually by his side, and that alone set him apart.
Outside the village walls stretched a vast plain, where groups of players scrambled and bickered, lunging at every wild chicken that spawned. Competition was fierce; monsters appeared slowly, and every kill meant precious experience points. The chaos, the frantic shouts, the desperate lunges—it was all so familiar. For a moment, Miguel felt a pang of nostalgia. In his previous life, he too had been one of these frantic beginners, scrambling for every scrap of experience.
But not this time.
Just as he was passing through, a player with the ID Thunderblade spotted Miguel's weapon, and his eyes lit up greedily. Without hesitation, he jogged over, his voice carrying eagerness barely disguised by a forced casual tone.
"Hey, bro, that sword you've got there… Are you selling it? I'll pay ten thousand credits for it, right now!"
Miguel blinked, caught off guard for a brief second, before recognition hit him. Thunderblade. In his past life, this man had risen to become one of the top swordsmen of the entire Huaxia region. During the great continental war, his blade alone had ended the lives of dozens of high-ranking enemy players in one battle. A lone wolf, never joining any guilds, too proud to bend the knee—and yet his brilliance had made him a target. Betrayal, assassinations, ambushes… eventually, the rising Sword God had been snuffed out before his legend could fully bloom. Some had even claimed he had the potential to ascend to Main God, had he lived long enough.
Shaking his head with a faint smile, Miguel replied firmly, "Sorry, this one's not for sale. I need it myself."
Disappointment flashed across Thunderblade's face, but he didn't press. Instead, he offered, "Fair enough. Then, how about we add each other as friends? If you ever decide to sell it, give me first dibs, yeah?"
Miguel chuckled softly, nodding. He knew the truth—Thunderblade had always been a collector at heart. In his last life, before his untimely demise, his private vault had been filled with over a hundred legendary swords, each with its own story.
"Sure thing," Miguel said, and a notification popped up.
Ding! You are now friends with [Thunderblade].
"Stellar Mist, huh? Nice handle," Thunderblade remarked with a grin, reading Miguel's ID aloud.
Miguel only shrugged lightly, saying nothing. The name wasn't special, just lyrics from a song he once liked, but there was no need to explain.
"Hey, Stellar," Thunderblade continued, "want to team up? You've seen how scarce mobs are right now. My party's got four players—we're one short of a full team. Would make it easier to snag kills."
Miguel's answer was a polite but firm shake of his head. "Thanks, but I prefer to solo. Appreciate the offer, though."
Before Thunderblade could reply, a sneering voice cut in. A lanky, bleach-blond player standing just behind him scoffed, his lips curling into a mocking smirk.
"Solo? Please. At level zero? Dude's just pretending to be hot stuff," the youth jeered, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
Miguel spared him a single indifferent glance, then turned away, saying nothing as he continued on his path.
"Hey!" Thunderblade snapped at the blond youth, glaring sharply. "Watch your mouth. One day, you'll piss off the wrong guy and regret it. Godmaking Online isn't like the VR games you're used to. Here, death hits hard."
He held up a finger, ticking off the penalties. "Lose a level every time you die. Drop gear. Lose half your currency. You piss off a real powerhouse, and they decide to grief you? You might as well delete your account."
The blond youth just scoffed again, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, he's just a newbie. Big talk for nothing."
Before Thunderblade could scold him further, a commotion erupted nearby. A wild chicken spawned just a few meters from Miguel, but this one was different, larger, feathers flaring as it strutted onto the field with an aggressive gleam in its eye.
Miguel instinctively cast Probe, a hidden skill available to all players to scan monster stats.
[Wild Chicken (Elite)]
Level: 3
Rank: None
HP: 500/500
Attack Power: 30
Skills: Chain Slap, Frenzied Peck
An elite spawn. A stroke of beginner's luck. Miguel's lips curved upward. Not bad. The game's already offering me a warm-up fight.
"An elite chicken!" the blond youth shouted, eyes blazing with greed. "C'mon, bro, let's get it before that poser does!"
Thunderblade glanced at the stats and frowned. Their four-man team had players only at level two or three, with pitiful damage output. Against something with thirty attack power and chain skills? They'd be minced meat before they even chipped their health bar in half. It was suicide.
He opened his mouth to tell his overeager teammate to back off—
—but by then, the elite chicken had already fixed its beady eyes on Miguel and let out an ear-splitting screech before charging straight at him.
The blond youth smirked nastily, leaning toward his cousin. "Ha! Look at him. This noob's dead meat."
Thunderblade didn't reply, but his gaze lingered on Miguel, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. Something told him this "newbie" wasn't nearly as helpless as his companion believed.