Outside the novice village, five players had just finished off a scrawny wild chicken, laughing over the few scraps of experience they'd earned. Among them, a sharp-eyed youth with the ID Luo Tian Bonecrusher suddenly froze mid-step, his gaze locked on a freshly spawned elite chicken not far away.
"Boss, look!" he hissed eagerly, pointing. "That's an elite spawn! Kill it, and there's a good chance it'll drop some gear!"
In Godmaking Online, the odds of a normal monster dropping equipment were a pathetic one in ten thousand. But elites? A solid one hundred percent. It was the kind of opportunity that made players salivate, even if most got burned trying to seize it.
Bonecrusher's leader, a burly player going by Luo Tian Shark, glanced toward where his teammate pointed just as the elite chicken suddenly bolted—not toward them, but toward a young man standing alone, his features almost unnervingly perfect.
Seeing this, Shark's lips curled into a sneer. He didn't know the stranger, but watching that handsome face about to get clawed off filled him with mean-spirited satisfaction. Pretty boy thinks he's untouchable? Let's see how smug he looks getting mauled by a chicken.
Miguel, however, only licked his lips as he eyed the charging bird, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Heh. Hell's wide open, and you came running straight in."
Not far away, Thunderblade's annoying blond cousin piped up, unable to hide his glee. "Yo, if that noob dies, doesn't he drop a piece of gear? Bet that shiny sword of his will hit the ground for the taking."
The thought seemed to strike Thunderblade, too, his pupils narrowing. If that guy dies here, I might get that weapon without paying a dime… A flicker of selfish hope crossed his mind.
But before anyone could dwell on it, Miguel moved. His blade flashed, a single, unhurried strike that carried absolute lethality.
"-1080!"
The Heavenpiercer Sword tore through the elite chicken's body like lightning splitting the sky. A strangled squawk, a crash of feathers, and the creature lay dead at his feet, lifeless.
Ding! You have slain [Elite Wild Chicken]. You gained 63 EXP.
In a normal VR game, sixty-three points would've nearly pushed a player to level one. But Godmaking Online wasn't forgiving.
To hit level one from zero? Ten thousand experience points. Level two? Twenty thousand. Each level doubling the grind. To reach level ten, a staggering 550,000 EXP was required. Sixty-three points was a raindrop in an ocean.
Miguel stared down at the corpse, utterly unfazed. This was just the beginning of a long road.
From the sidelines, Thunderblade's cousin stood frozen, his mouth agape. "He… he one-shotted it…" The memory of his earlier insults burned hot on his cheeks, shame mixing with fear. If this guy was a "noob," what the hell did that make him?
Even Thunderblade stayed silent, feeling a chill creep down his spine. The kid wasn't normal. No way a level zero should be capable of something like that.
Luo Tian Shark and his crew were no less shocked, though the awe quickly twisted into greed. Shark's eyes locked onto Miguel's sword, blazing with covetous heat.
"That weapon's not ordinary… zero-level players shouldn't be doing that kind of damage. If I take it, I'll dominate this newbie zone…"
With a quick gesture, Shark signaled his men and swaggered forward, his expression plastered with fake friendliness.
"Not bad, kid," he drawled, voice thick with false admiration. "One-shotting an elite at level zero? That's some serious power… must be thanks to that sword you've got there, huh?"
Miguel's gaze slid lazily toward him, his tone flat and cold. "And what exactly are you getting at?"
The man's grin widened, but it never reached his eyes. "I'm a straight shooter, so I'll keep it simple. I like that blade. I'll give you a thousand credits for it. Cash out right now, what do you say?"
Miguel blinked once, then gave him a look usually reserved for particularly dumb NPCs. "A thousand? For this sword? Go back to sleep, pal—dreams are free."
Shark's smile slipped, a shadow passing over his face as his tone dropped several degrees. "Kid, think carefully. We're the Luo Tian Guild. I'm giving you a chance here. Hand it over willingly, or…"
Behind him, four goons spread out, circling Miguel like vultures. Their sneers made their intent obvious. If intimidation didn't work, violence would. The only reason they hadn't attacked yet was fear that killing him might not guarantee the drop.
Miguel's expression remained calm, but his eyes hardened, dark with the kind of disdain one saved for rotting garbage. In his past life, Luo Tian Guild had built its reputation on bullying players just like this, ambushing those who defied them, killing them repeatedly until they quit the game entirely.
Now, seeing them again in this life stirred only contempt.
Shark's patience was thinning, his words venomous as he gave one last ultimatum. "This is your final warning. Hand it over, or I'll make sure you regret ever logging into this game."
Miguel tilted his head slightly, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips. "Regret, huh? Here's an idea—you can smell it first, since you're so eager to stick your face in crap."
That was the last straw. Shark roared, face twisted with rage, swinging his wooden club up high.
"Brothers, kill this arrogant bastard!"
The four lackeys lunged in, weapons raised, while their leader barreled forward to smash Miguel into the dirt.
But Miguel didn't flinch. His grip on the Heavenpiercer Sword tightened, his stance shifting ever so slightly as his eyes sharpened like blades of their own.
"Idiots. You really think you can take me down? Fine… let's see who regrets it first."