Death.
For most players of Ancient Myth, it was the one thing they dreaded most. Dying in the field meant a brutal penalty: loss of a level and the risk of dropping equipment. It was enough to make careful players grind in safe zones for hours, terrified of losing progress. But the rules shifted depending on circumstance.
Solo players like Tony faced a cruel choice. Wait thirty minutes and respawn naturally, or sacrifice half a level to revive instantly. In a team, the second option didn't even exist—one had to wait or be raised by a healer. And in dungeons, death was softened only slightly: a 30% experience loss, reduced to 15% if revived by a healer's blessing.
For Tony, though, none of this was new. Death had been a companion of sorts in his life outside the game—on the battlefield, in shadows where blades whispered, in fights where hesitation meant corpses.
And so, after the rats had torn him apart and his HP dropped to zero, he didn't revive.
Instead, he sat in silence. The void of death wasn't the absence of thought but a crucible for it. He replayed every detail of the fight.
Monsters have patterns, he noted. They're not mindless mobs. Their movements are deliberate, coordinated. That last three-way attack wasn't random—it was practiced. These vermin fight together like soldiers.
Another realization burned deeper. And the pain… His fingers flexed as he recalled the tearing sensation. The game doesn't pull punches. Death here isn't just numbers dropping—it's agony. Fear. Helplessness. This is closer to life than anything else I've seen in a simulation.
A wicked smile crept across his lips. In the darkness of the death state, his grin looked almost demonic.
"My blood is boiling. The beast inside me… it's about to wake."
Had anyone seen his face just then, they would have stepped back in terror. That smile wasn't of a man discouraged by death. It was the grin of a predator savoring the chance to hunt again.
Thirty minutes passed in silence. When the system pulled him back into the world, Tony opened his eyes inside the tavern's basement once more.
[Name: Mad Demon] [Class: Swordsman]
Level: 01 (0% EXP)
HP: 83
MP: 7
Strength: 9
Agility: 9
Constitution: 6
Intelligence: 4
Vitality: 7
He exhaled sharply. "Losing a full level is a nuisance… but I didn't drop equipment. That's luck."
Then his eyes lit up with memory. "Ah. The skill…"
He pulled up the panel. The newest entry pulsed with crimson light, radiating hunger.
[Name: Bloodlust]
Type: Action-type
Rank: SS
Passive Effect:
Suppress enemies with weaker wills to 50% of their strength.
Immune to intimidation by stronger foes.
Activation: Enter a Bloodlust State. Increases Strength, Constitution, and Agility by 200% for 20 seconds. Afterward, enter Weakened State for 5 minutes.
Cooldown: 50 minutes.
Tony whistled low. "Overpowered doesn't even begin to cover this. At this stage? A berserk skill like this is basically a second life."
But he didn't overthink it. Power came to those strong enough to claim it. He wasn't blessed—he was monstrous enough to deserve it.
"When I hit Level 5… then I'll try Hawkeye's Devil Hunt quest." His eyes burned with anticipation.
For now, the rats awaited.
He tightened the straps of his beginner boots, checked the weight of his humming blade, and stepped back into the basement shadows.
The first rat spotted him at six yards. Its throat emitted a piercing squeal, summoning the other two instantly.
Tony's lips curled. "So, you communicate. The stronger the monster, the sharper their instincts and teamwork. Good. That means the game's alive."
The rats' eyes blazed red as they spread, circling. Tony's heart raced—not with fear, but hunger.
"Since you had the honor of killing me once," he whispered, blade humming, "let me return the favor."
He raised his weapon high. Lightning cracked into existence.
Skill Activated: Lightning Strike.
Execution: 85%.
A roar of thunder shook the basement. Bolts arced from the blade, slamming into the three vermin. Their HP dropped instantly, arcs leaving scorch marks on the stone walls.
-85 Damage. Fainted (2 seconds).
"Perfect."
Tony lunged at the nearest rat, sword flashing.
Skill: Sword Light (90% completion).
-20 Damage.
Two follow-up swings carved crimson arcs across its hide. -13, -13.
The beast squealed, HP plummeting to 32. Its companions weren't far behind, their health bars glowing faintly in the corner of Tony's vision.
But the fainted state ended. With snarls, the rats leapt—claws from the left, teeth from the right, and the third crashing down from above.
Tony's grin widened. "Yes. Show me what you've got."
To anyone else, it would have been overwhelming. But Tony had faced men and beasts that made these things look like children. His body flowed, ducking beneath one claw, twisting past snapping jaws, blade parrying the overhead strike.
He toyed with them, dodging, nicking away HP little by little, enjoying the dance of life and death.
Then, as they gathered for another strike, he slammed his sword down again.
Skill: Lightning Strike.
Execution: 92%.
The blast fried them in unison. Their bodies twitched once, then collapsed into steaming husks.
System Notification: Congratulations! You have slain 3 Rotten Rats. Rewards: 60 EXP.
"Hard leveling, huh? Rats barely scratch the bar." He exhaled but crouched quickly to loot.
Loot Acquired:
Bronze coin ×34
Claw (Common) ×2
Claw (Uncommon) ×1
Rat Skin (Common) ×6
Rat Teeth (Common) ×4
Equipment:
[Rotten Gloves] (Iron, Level 2) — Defense +5
[Rotten Dagger] (Iron, Level 3) — Attack Speed +6, Agility +7, Strength +4
Additional Skill: Death Barrage — Attack Speed +100% for 2 strikes. 10% Bleeding Effect.
Tony rolled the dagger in his hand, testing its weight. "Not bad. If that bastard Mark doesn't have something better, I'll sell this to him."
He shook his head, thinking of his rival. Mark was a monster in his own right. But Tony wasn't worried—he thrived on surpassing monsters.
He equipped the gloves, bagged the rest, and scouted the basement. Another three rats fell quickly beneath his blade, their blood steaming on the stone floor. Satisfied, he returned upstairs.
Manager Bob's round face split into relief. "Hero, I… I don't know how to thank you. You've saved my tavern. My family will eat again thanks to you."
System Notification: Congratulations! Quest Completed (Rank C).
Rewards: 30 EXP, +55 Bronze, Equipment.
White light enveloped Tony—level up. Back to 02.
But the real prize glimmered in his hand.
[Faceless Mask]
Rank: Unique
Passive: Conceals player information from identification.
Active:
30% chance to evade monster senses.
Agility +50% for 30 seconds.
Cooldown: 1 minute.
Tony's eyes widened. "A mask like this… priceless."
Manager Bob nodded. "It was left by a traveling expert, long ago. We never knew its use. Dust gathered on it for years. Take it, young hero. May it shield you."
Tony bowed slightly. "Thank you, Bob. This will be invaluable—especially now."
Bob smiled in relief. "And if you ever need information, come to me. The tavern hears everything. I'll pass it on."
That made Tony's eyes gleam. "Perfect. Then every day, tell me what you learn."
Bob agreed without hesitation. Tony left the tavern just as a group of latecomer players rushed in, eager for the quest—only to be told it had already been completed. Their curses followed him out the door.
The village was alive now, humming with players grinding weak monsters. Tony scanned their levels—most hovered around 2, a few straining higher. But almost all required parties. Alone, they'd be chewed up.
"It seems every weak quest and low-tier mob has already been stripped bare," he muttered. "Ants fighting for crumbs."
He turned east.
Grandpa Ming's words echoed in his mind: The sickness began there. One case, twenty years ago. Then more. Now it festers.
The east village lay mostly abandoned, trees reclaiming the land. Villagers whispered of curses. Superstition had given nature free rein.
Tony activated [Hawkeye]. The world shifted. His vision sharpened beyond human limits, details magnifying, hidden flaws laid bare.
"This skill… incredible. The world isn't the same through these eyes."
Hours could have passed, but finally, he spotted it: a distortion. What seemed like a simple tree and stone concealed something more. A seam in the world, like a mirage—an entrance masked by powerful concealment.
Tony's heart pounded. "Camouflage of this level… definitely crafted by a master."
He activated his own Camouflage, blending with the air, and stepped forward. The illusion rippled. His body slipped through.
System Notification: Ding! You have entered a Strange Area.
System Notification: Welcome to the Ghost Town.
Tony froze. A chill traced his spine.
The world before him was not a village, not a ruin—but a town bathed in silence. Buildings slumped, their wooden beams rotting. Streets stretched wide and empty, cobblestones cracked and overgrown with pale weeds. And everywhere, silence reigned.
Not the peaceful silence of dawn, but the heavy, suffocating silence of a graveyard.
The Ghost Town had been waiting for him.