Elian walked out of the inn, the "grief" on his face vanishing the moment he hit the fresh air. He pulled his hood up.
His first stop was the alleyway behind the market.
Luna was there, but she looked terrible. Her hair was a bird's nest, her glasses were crooked, and she had dark circles under her eyes deep enough to swim in. She was scrubbing the cobblestones with a bucket of water, trying to wash away the last of the wolf blood.
"You look awful," Elian remarked, leaning against the wall.
Luna jumped, nearly kicking the bucket over. She spun around, a butcher's knife in her hand. When she saw it was Elian, she slumped against her stall.
"You..." she pointed the knife at him accusingly. "You left me with six wolves. Do you know how heavy they are? Do you know how hard it is to skin a Dire Wolf without ruining the pelt?"
"I imagine it's difficult," Elian said calmly. "Did you finish?"
Luna sighed, dropping the knife. She reached under her table and pulled out a heavy sack and a wooden box.
"I sold the meat and the bones to the butcher. I sold the standard pelts to the tanner. The market was hungry for materials."
She tossed the sack to him.
Clink.
"Your share. 1 Gold, 50 Silver."
Elian raised an eyebrow. That was... more than he expected. Luna was a better merchant than she looked.
"And the Alpha?"
Luna opened the wooden box. Inside sat three items, glowing with faint magical energy.
Alpha Blood Serum (x2): Thick, crimson liquid.
Effect: Temporarily increases Strength by +10 for 5 minutes. Side effect: Mild exhaustion afterward.
Alpha Mana Core: A pulsating grey crystal.
The Fangs and Hide: Cleaned, bundled, and ready for crafting.
"I brewed the blood," Luna explained, wiping her glasses. "It's potent. Don't drink both at once or your heart will explode. The Core is raw—I can't use it yet. And the hide... well, I'm not a tailor."
Elian took the items. "Good work."
He tossed five silver coins back onto her table.
"Get some sleep, Luna. And keep brewing. I'm going to need a lot more potions soon."
Elian's next stop was the Silent Anvil.
The old blacksmith, Kael, was awake this time. He was hammering a horseshoe, looking bored.
When Elian walked in and dumped the bundle of Alpha Wolf Hide and the Alpha Fangs onto the anvil, Kael stopped hammering.
"You killed it," Kael grunted, looking at the grey fur. "I heard rumors about a lucky porter finding a dead boss. Guess the rumors were wrong."
"People believe what they want to believe," Elian said. "Can you work with this?"
Kael ran a calloused hand over the fur. "Tough. Magic resistant. Good insulation."
He looked at Elian's shredded tunic. "I can make you a vest. Light armor. Won't slow you down, but it'll stop a goblin arrow."
"Do it," Elian said. "And the fangs?"
"Too small for a sword. Good for daggers. Or..." Kael squinted. "I can stud the boots. Give you traction. Maybe a bit of kick damage."
"Stud the boots," Elian decided. "I need mobility."
"Come back in an hour."
[One Hour Later]
Elian stood before the mirror in the shack.
He no longer looked like a Level 1 beggar.
He wore a Wolf-Hide Vest, dyed a dark charcoal grey. It hugged his frame tightly, offering protection without bulk.
[Defense: +15]
[Effect: Minor Cold Resistance.]
His boots were reinforced with Alpha Fangs along the soles and toes.
[Effect: grip increased on slippery surfaces. Kick damage +5.]
And finally, Kael had taken a whetstone to the Black-Iron Sword. The rust was gone. The blade was a dull, menacing matte black that seemed to absorb the light.
Elian sheathed the sword. He felt lighter. Dangerous.
"How much?" Elian asked.
"The materials covered the cost," Kael grumbled, turning back to his fire. "Just don't die in it. It's bad advertising."
The Crypt of the Forgotten (Level 5-10 Dungeon)
The entrance was a stone mausoleum located in the graveyard outside of town. Green mist curled around the heavy iron gates. Most players were forming parties of five outside, shouting for healers.
"LFG! Need Tank for Crypt run! Must be Level 5!"
Elian walked past them. He didn't stop at the party search board. He walked straight to the glowing blue portal.
"Hey! Rookie!" a player shouted. "You can't solo that! It's an Undead dungeon! Physical resistance is high!"
Elian ignored him. He touched the portal.
[Enter Dungeon: Crypt of the Forgotten?]
[Difficulty Selection: Normal / Hard / Abyss]
Most players chose Normal. The brave ones chose Hard.
Elian selected [Hard].
Whoosh.
The world twisted. The sunlight vanished.
Elian materialized in a cold, stone corridor. The air smelled of dust and ancient decay. The only light came from glowing moss on the walls.
Rattle... Clack...
Ahead of him, piles of bones began to stir.
[Monster Encounter: Skeleton Warrior (Level 6)]
[Monster Encounter: Skeleton Archer (Level 6)]
Three skeletons rose from the ground. They held rusty scimitars and short bows.
In the previous timeline, players hated this dungeon. Skeletons had [Bone Hardening]. Slashing weapons like swords and daggers dealt 50% reduced damage because the blades would just slide off the ribs. You needed a mace or a hammer to crush them.
Elian drew the Black-Iron Sword.
It wasn't a mace. But it was heavy enough to act like one.
The Skeleton Warrior charged, its jaw clacking silently.
Elian didn't take a stance. He ran at it.
The Skeleton swung its scimitar. Elian ducked under the clumsy swing, his movement enhanced by the Ring of Swiftness.
He didn't slash. He used the flat of his blade. He swung the heavy iron slab like a baseball bat.
CRACK-BOOM.
The impact was thunderous.
The Black-Iron sword smashed into the Skeleton's ribcage. The [Bone Hardening] passive triggered, but it didn't matter. The sheer kinetic force of the heavy sword shattered the ribs, the spine, and sent the upper half of the skeleton flying across the room.
[Critical Hit!]
[Target Destroyed.]
"Too slow," Elian whispered.
An arrow whizzed past his ear. The Skeleton Archer was firing from the back.
Elian didn't seek cover. He charged the archer, zigzagging to throw off its aim. He reached the archer in two seconds.
He didn't use his sword this time. He jumped and drove his knee into the skeleton's skull.
CRUNCH.
The Alpha Fang studs on his boots bit into the bone. The skull shattered under the force of the kick.
[Target Destroyed.]
Elian landed and spun around. The corridor was clear.
He checked his time. [Dungeon Time: 00:45].
"Slow," he critiqued himself. "I wasted energy on the jump."
He looked deeper into the dark crypt. This was just the entryway. Down below, on Floor 5, the Necromancer waited. And on Floor 10, the Death Knight.
Elian cracked his neck.
"Let's make a train."
He started running deeper into the dungeon. He didn't stop to fight the next group of skeletons. He just ran past them, hitting his shield with his sword to make noise.
Clang! Clang!
"Come on!" he shouted, echoing through the crypt. "Wake up!"
He was doing something suicidal. He was Mobbing. He was going to gather every monster on the first floor and kill them all in one single, devastating choke point.
Behind him, the rattling of bones grew louder. A literal army of the dead was waking up to chase the intruder.
Elian grinned.
"Now the grind begins."