The return to Whispering Pines Crossing was different. The whispers that had once followed Lucas were no longer just about the "Tamer Trash" or the "Quarry Ghost." The names "Helios" and "Lucas" were now tangled together in the server's rapidly evolving gossip.
He sat in the Howling Hearth, the hood of his leather armor pulled low, and listened.
"It has to be him," a player at a nearby table argued, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Helios was a top-tier guild, sure, but they were predictable. Then, suddenly, they're taking down two new World Bosses in a week with tactics no one has ever seen before? At the same time this 'Ghost' Tamer is operating in their territory? It's not a coincidence."
"So you're saying their secret weapon is a Tamer?" his companion scoffed. "Get real."
Lucas processed the information with a cold detachment. His anonymity, his greatest shield, was cracking. He was no longer a ghost; he was a theory, a rumor gaining traction. The more Helios succeeded, the more intensely the world would search for their secret.
As if summoned by the thought, a private message notification chimed in his vision. It was from Evelyn. The text was short, professional, and devoid of pleasantries.
My scouts reported your success in the Glimmerwood. Congratulations on your advancement. The server is talking. My guild is getting credit for your strategies, and it's drawing unwanted attention from our rivals. They're not just watching Helios anymore; they're looking for our 'secret weapon.' Be careful.
Lucas felt a flicker of grim irony. Evelyn was warning him of a fire she had inadvertently helped to start. The message was a complex gesture—a professional courtesy, a subtle reminder of her guild's surveillance, and a clear indication that their fates were now unofficially intertwined. He closed the message without replying.
He had new, more immediate objectives. He pulled up his map, looking at the two markers for Baelin's reagents. The Ironpeak Mountains for the ore, and the Ashen Fields for the coals. He used his [System Insight] on the map's zone descriptions.
[Ironpeak Mountains: A high-level, treacherous mountain range. Rich in rare minerals, but home to territorial Drakes and powerful player guilds who have claimed the best mining spots.]
[Ashen Fields: A desolate, petrified forest, the result of an ancient magical cataclysm. Patrolled by powerful Ash Wraiths and Fire Elementals. Inflicts a constant 'Searing Heat' debuff on all players within the zone.]
The choice was a simple calculation of risk. The Ironpeak Mountains meant dealing with entrenched, high-level guilds—a direct confrontation with the kind of players who were likely already looking for him. The Ashen Fields, while environmentally hostile, would be largely deserted. It was the logical, strategic choice. The path of least player resistance.
He began his preparations, heading to the outpost's alchemist to purchase a stack of fire-resistance potions. As he waited for the NPC to complete the transaction, he overheard a hushed conversation between two players in the corner.
"Did you see the new post on the Shadow Market board? Some mystery client put a massive, anonymous bounty on a Tamer. Name's Lucas."
Lucas froze, his hand hovering over his coin pouch.
"A Tamer? Why?" the other player asked.
"No idea. But the payout is insane. 'Proof of kill is all that's needed,' it says. Every PKer and bounty hunter on the server is going to be looking for him."
Lucas's blood ran cold. He subtly activated his [System Insight] on the player who had spoken. The man's profile was unremarkable, except for a single, grayed-out line of text.
[Previous Affiliation: Guild Scorch (Disbanded)]
Rive. He had survived. And his vengeance wasn't a direct confrontation; it was a cold, calculated, and anonymous contract on Lucas's life.
Lucas paid for his potions and walked out into the bustling square of Whispering Pines Crossing. The world felt different now. The whispers of gossip were no longer just a curiosity; they were a threat. The curious glances from other players were no longer about his class; they were potential assessments from would-be assassins.
The path of least player resistance no longer existed. He was no longer just a person of interest.
He was a marked man.