On his way to the quest, Mike memorized the path from his house to the village's main hall. You just had to follow the line of village trees, and you'd arrive at the main building — the place where all important matters were discussed.
When he reached it, two guards stopped him.
"Mission?" one asked.
Mike cleared his throat.
"I wanted to talk about my house and get everything sorted."
The two guards stared at him silently for a moment before one finally spoke.
"Alright, come with me."
The massive door behind them opened on its own — as if by magic.
Inside, Mike found himself in a huge hall with nearly twenty doors.
"What could all these be for?" he muttered.
Suddenly, a loud BANG echoed through the hall. The guards ducked immediately and scanned the area — but nothing. Then—
"O-one of the doors! It's shaking!" Mike pointed straight at it.
He quickly opened his inventory and equipped his sword.
—Normal Iron Sword (35%) — Damaged—
You could barely call it a sword — more like a broken chunk of metal.
Still, Mike held it in front of his face defensively.
Pfufff! The door burst open and arrows flew out.
"Get dow—!"
Mike had no time to react. Luckily — or maybe unluckily — one of the guards jumped in front of him and took all the arrows. He fell to the ground, his death animation starting. His sword dropped, clattering against the floor.
Mike didn't hesitate — he grabbed the fallen sword and darted behind a stone pillar. It was solid, providing good cover. The remaining guard managed to escape into another room.
"Great… it's me and some unknown attackers. I don't even know how many! Shit!" Mike hissed, peeking over the pillar. Nothing. No movement.
Then — another door flew open. The remaining guard rushed toward it, straight into the attackers' direction.
"Is that idiot trying to die?!" Mike muttered.
A short scream followed. "ARGHH!" Then silence.
Mike looked down at the sword he'd grabbed.
—Iron Sword +3—
Durability: 90% — Good!—
He still held the broken blade piece in his other hand.
Taking a deep breath, Mike left his cover and sprinted toward the room. Then — there! A dark figure appeared at the doorway, bow in hand, ready to shoot.
Mike moved first. He dashed forward and threw his damaged blade toward the figure. The attacker — dressed completely in black, face hidden behind a mask — had strange chains wrapped around his hands.
"His weapons… those chains?"
The bow didn't fire. Mike's thrown blade hit first — straight into the attacker's chest. No scream. The body faded and despawned.
—Level Up! Level 3—
Congratulations!
HP: 120
+3 Skill Points
The bow didn't drop — but that didn't matter. Mike focused and rushed forward again. He burst through the door, sword gripped tightly, his hands burning from the force of his grip.
When he stormed inside, he froze.
No more enemies.
Just blood — everywhere.
It was Pal — his death animation started, and he vanished.
But behind him, the attacker Mike had just killed appeared again.
You could tell — the sword was still sticking out of his chest.
"That's the advantage of being one of the Rats. I'm not dead!"
Mike flinched and stepped back, gripping his sword tightly, waiting for the right moment.
"W-what are you? I even got a level from killing you!"
The attacker grinned — a wide, eerie grin that stretched so far Mike could see it even through the mask.
"A clone. A realistic one… well, kind of like these!"
The man started laughing, taking a few steps back. He raised his hand, and above it floated a white sphere — glowing brighter, swelling larger. A short flash turned the room white, and suddenly there were five attackers standing side by side.
"Let's get him, boys!"
They all charged at Mike.
Mike's eyes widened, his face tightening in shock.
"I'm screwed! Damn it!"
He saw one of the five pull a sword from his inventory.
"It's true… he's another player! That must be the real one!"
The clones froze as the original stopped moving — then, in an instant, they all darted around, mirroring his movements so fast that Mike couldn't tell who was real anymore.
Mike dashed forward and sliced through one — clean decapitation. But it wasn't the real one; the clone dissolved into ash. No EXP. No reward.
The one with the sword struck at Mike — steel clashing with a clang as Mike parried perfectly. The sound of iron crashing against iron echoed. They raised their blades again and clashed a second time.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw one of the clones throwing something — three shuriken, black, each marked with a strange symbol he couldn't recognize.
Mike disengaged, kicked the attacker back into a wall, and saw the shuriken closing in. With two swift swings, he deflected two of them — but the third slipped through and sliced across his shoulder.
"Agh!"
Blood splattered and dripped down his arm. The shuriken despawned moments later.
Mike leapt at the clone and cleaved it cleanly in half. But he'd forgotten the original. The real attacker had crept up behind him.
A sharp strike tore across Mike's back. Blood filled the air, splashing against the wall.
And it wasn't over — the last two clones hurled three shuriken each.
Mike was hit by all of them.
His body was riddled with wounds as he slammed hard against the wall.
The wall barely held and didn't break — only a few cracks. Mike spat blood. The six shuriken hadn't pierced him, but his chest and arms were badly wounded. The attacker moved closer. Mike couldn't move; he slowly slid to the floor. Blood ran from his lips and nose, and blood streamed from his stomach.
"Not so tough after all, huh?" the attacker said. He stopped his clones and dissolved them; ash scattered and vanished after a few seconds.
The attacker knelt over Mike and laughed. "You really are pathetic. It's funny." He raised his sword and then—
Something suddenly pierced the attacker straight through the chest. Blood sprayed across the floor as if there wasn't already enough. Mike smiled and sliced off the attacker's hand.
The thing that had pierced the attacker was the third guard. He had been hiding during the fight. The attacker, with his last strength, turned and cut the guard's head off, but the guard fell. With just one arm left he couldn't do much. The sword clattered to the floor.
"Defeated by an NPC? Hahaha, pathetic," Mike said, staggering toward the prone attacker. He gripped his sword's hilt with both hands and held the blade to the attacker's throat.
"What is your mission?"