"Hidden Edge."
The name wasn't flashy or poetic. It was a statement—a simple, deadly promise. But as the words left Tony's lips, Brandan felt something long dormant stir within his chest. It wasn't just interest; it was the ember of his own extinguished ambition, fanned back to life by the sheer audacity of the young man before him.
"Good," Brandan said, the name tasting like a vow on his tongue. "It suits the purpose."
"Now, for the foundation," Tony continued, his voice dropping into the cadence of a strategist. "We will prioritize youth for their potential and adaptability, but we will not discount experience. A veteran with one foot in the grave can still teach the reaper a new trick in this world. That's the kind of masterpiece *Ancient Myth* is."
He laid out his vision with crystal clarity. "My requirements are threefold. First, and non-negotiable: innate talent with an adaptive aptitude. I need minds that can bend and flow with the chaos of battle, not just follow a script. Second, a proven achievement in martial arts. This isn't just a game; it's a new battlefield, and I want warriors, not button-mashers. Third, and most critical: loyalty and honesty. I am building a sanctuary for blades, not a nest for vipers. I will not allow a snake into our home."
Brandan nodded slowly, the principles solid in his mind. "The first and third, I understand perfectly. But this 'achievement in martial arts'... what caliber are we discussing?" He hoped, for the sake of recruitment, that Tony's standards were grounded in reality.
Tony's reply shattered that hope with casual, monstrous finality. "I don't have high requirements. In the real world, a candidate must have at least reached the formal rank of Master. In here, their target is to become, or prove they have the potential to become, a Peak Expert."
A vein throbbed visibly at Brandan's temple. **"Are you insane?"** he exploded, his voice a mixture of disbelief and awe. "Peak Experts are crown jewels even in the Supreme Guilds! They're given their own divisions, their own resources! Your requirements don't just rival a 7-star guild; they mock them!"
"I am aware they are harsh," Tony acknowledged, utterly unfazed. "But Brandan, you of all people should know: quality is a weapon that quantity can never blunt. To carve out a place for ourselves that is truly ours, we cannot walk the well-trodden path of the masses. We walk the razor's edge, and for that, we need only elites and those with the potential to become one."
"But I am no elite," Brandan countered, a frown creasing his brow. "Not anymore. And with your reputation as the Mad Demon, you could have your pick of talented players. Why confide in a broken relic like me?"
"Fame is a beacon that attracts both allies and arrows," Tony replied, his grin sharp. "I have no desire to paint a target on my back this early. And you... you are not a relic. You are a masterpiece that has been gathering dust. Your experience is a library of warfare, and your dormant potential is a sleeping dragon. With you by my side, the path, while still arduous, becomes possible."
Brandan fell silent, the weight of the offer pressing down on him. He was intensely interested—the fire in his chest proved that—but the ghosts of his past, the chains of his failures, held him back. Seeing the hesitation, Tony knew a simple offer of partnership wasn't enough. He had to sever those chains himself.
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I have the right to challenge anyone in the Abyss Battlefield. The rewards there can grant things that seem impossible... including cures for conditions that modern medicine has abandoned."
The effect was instantaneous. Brandan jolted as if struck by lightning. His breathing hitched, his hands trembled, and his eyes burned with a desperate, wild hope. "Why...?" he stammered, his mind reeling. "Why would you do this? We met only hours ago."
"The reason is simple," Tony said, his gaze unwavering and sincere. "Because when the entire world was arrayed against you, you refused to kneel. You chose to break rather than bend. For that defiance alone, I respect you from the bottom of my heart. You deserve a chance to reclaim what was stolen, not just for her, but for yourself."
For years, a part of Brandan had festered in regret, believing his pride was the poison that ruined their lives. But Tony's words reframed his defiance as a badge of honor, not a sin. They offered a form of absolution he had never granted himself, bringing a profound peace that quieted the chaotic storm in his heart.
He drew himself to his full height, and when he spoke, his voice was clear, steady, and carried the weight of an unbreakable oath. "Then hear me, Tony. I, Brandan Elias, have nothing left to my name but the one you already know. From this moment forward, whether we ascend to the heavens or descend into hell itself, my life is yours to command. I will follow you without question or complaint."
The formal vow was more than Tony had expected, and he didn't know whether to laugh at its solemnity or cheer at its conviction. In the end, he simply gave a firm, respectful nod. "Welcome to Hidden Edge, Brandan. You are its first blade."
With the pact sealed, Brandan's mind, now unclouded by despair, immediately shifted to logistics. "Your plan is grand, but you're a solo player. The resources required to outfit even a small group of elites will be astronomical, especially when the big guilds hit their stride. How do you plan to compete?"
"Did you check my level when we met?" Tony asked, changing the subject.
"Of course. My basic Identification skill worked, but your level and that black sword of yours were hidden." Brandan glanced at the humming blade with renewed interest. For an item to resist a basic scan so early meant it was extraordinary.
Tony made his level visible.
Brandan's eyes widened. "Level 7? How is that...?" He, a seasoned veteran, had grinded relentlessly to reach level 3. The rumored top player in the village, Eternal Knight, was level 5, and he had a guild feeding him kills. For a solo player to be two levels beyond that was inconceivable.
"I was level 5 when I left the village. The fights you witnessed pushed me the rest of the way," Tony explained, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. "You understand what this level means, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" Brandan's excitement was palpable. "You'll be the first player to reach the main town! The first-mover advantages... the unique quests, the uncontested resources..."
"Exactly. My first priority upon arriving will be to secure our foundation—a base of operations, exclusive crafting contacts, and a stockpile of high-grade equipment. But after that," Tony's tone turned serious, "I will need results. That is your first mission. Do not focus on leveling. I need you to be my eyes and ears. Scout for talent. Your network from the old days, your eye for skill—use them."
Brandan absorbed the command, his strategist's mind whirring. "In this game... you can use real martial arts principles, correct?"
"Fully," Tony confirmed. "I've already integrated my Formless Style. The system recognized it as a Unique Fighting Style, and notified me I was only the fifth player worldwide to achieve this."
Brandan felt a pang of envy, quickly mastered and replaced by determination. "This game is more profound than I imagined." He took a steadying breath. "I know seven individuals from my past I can vouch for with my life. Their loyalty and skill are unquestionable. There are another four in this very village I have my eyes on, but I need to assess them personally."
"Good. But remember, Brandan, haste makes waste. We have time. The real game doesn't begin until the mainstream reaches level 30."
"Why level 30?"
"That's when a player chooses their Path," Tony revealed. "I learned this from a legendary NPC. Our base classes are just that—a base. At level 30, we evolve, specializing into advanced paths that will define our roles."
The revelation was another seismic shift in Brandan's understanding of the game. A legendary NPC contact and world-altering mechanics knowledge? He could only attribute it to Tony's monstrous luck and capability.
Suddenly, Tony pulled the [Flaming Dagger] from his inventory and tossed it to Brandan. The weapon spun through the air, its edge gleaming with a captive fire. Brandan caught it by the hilt, his movements instinctive. He tested its balance, a craftsman appreciating a perfect tool. But when he read its stats, his breath caught.
"Tony... I can't. This is a Gold-rank weapon. It's too precious."
"Nonsense," Tony scoffed, his arrogance a comforting blanket. "How can the commander of my Hidden Edge be so miserly? This is just a tool. Remember, my friend, in the future, we will be clad in Legendary gear. Everything else is merely stepping stones, destined to be discarded."
The boast was outrageous, but it filled Brandan with a boiling, exhilarating drive. He wanted to go level up immediately, to feel the dagger's flame sear into his enemies. But he suppressed the urge. His mission was more important. Finding talent was the first step to making Tony's arrogant prophecy a reality.
As they parted, Tony entrusted him with escorting the sisters and villagers back to safety. Despite Suzy's protests, Tony insisted he had a personal investigation to complete—a clue that led him away from the group and deep into the wilderness.
After an hour of cautious travel, navigating past roaming high-level monsters that could easily end him, he finally stood at the foot of his destination. The map marker glowed, confirming his arrival. Before him, stark and imposing against the sky, stood the Lone Peak Mountain. The first true step in his chained quest, Devil Hunt, awaited.