A lone silhouette trudged down the hallway, feet dragging, shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world was crushing them.
"Time to cook," the figure rasped. "Customers will arrive any minute now… I need to get the stew going."
The floor was streaked with red and littered with patches of discarded white fur trailing all the way to the entrance.
Butcher knife in hand, the cook shuffled into the kitchen and got to work. They yanked open a cage and grabbed a small creature by its long ears. It kicked wildly in the air before that person slammed it onto the counter.
One swift, heavy chop, and it went still.
But then the pieces twitched.
Each severed chunk sprouted missing limbs and organs until two perfect, fully-healed copies of the original sat there. Both wriggled free and skittered out the door in a flash.
"I need to prepare the stew. I need plenty of meat for it. Clients will arrive any time now," the cook droned in that same flat monotone, already turning back to the cage.
— 2.1 —
Out on the edge of town, Tobias—a level-thirty merchant—hopped off his mount and scanned the area, frowning hard. "There's nothing here," he muttered, then spun around. "Hey, are you sure there was a monster around here?"
"No doubt about it," the dog-eared male NPC replied, adjusting his backpack straps. "The air reeked of a Werebunyard, to be exact." He sniffed again. "But it seems to have simply… vanished, sir."
"Great. You'd tell me if it was hiding in one of these buildings, right?"
"Do not worry, manager. That kind of stench is impossible to mask, and monsters like that are not intelligent enough to lurk and ambush prey."
Tobias sighed, running a hand through his messy beard. "Fine. I'll take your word for it. Let us get this over with. Come on, Margaret."
A female NPC nodded quietly and took the reins of their mount—a fat, black-furred land beast with white horns that huffed under the weight of all their luggage.
As they stepped into the Level-Two town, a massive white corpse inside the ruins of a two-story building finished dissolving into pixels and faded away.
The group moved forward carefully.
Every few steps, the dog-eared NPC sniffed the air while Tobias jumped at every little sound—the rustle of leaves in the cold wind, and the creak of old shop signs swinging in front of abandoned storefronts.
Cobblestones were missing or cracked everywhere, making the ground treacherous underfoot.
In the entire three-minute walk, they did not hear a single human sound.
"Hey, at least the place is still standing," Tobias said, stopping in front of a building—that happened to be on the epicenter of the destruction.
He stared at his restaurant: broken windows, tables smashed to splinters. No doors left, even though he distinctly remembered locking up before evacuating.
"At least the kitchen was not trashed." He planted his hands on his hips and let out a long breath. "Whatever. Grab whatever is still usable and—"
"Great! It's finally open!" a voice called from the empty plaza.
"What in the…?" Tobias whispered, turning to see a young guy jogging over from the fountain—the only monument still intact in the whole town.
Was he just sitting there this whole time?
"Awesome! I was starving!" The guy stepped inside, dusted off the least-destroyed table, sat down, laced his fingers together, and waited like he had a reservation.
Tobias snorted and stomped over. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
"Ah, sorry. I didn't see you flip the sign to 'open,'" the young man said, blinking with innocent green eyes. "But I couldn't wait! I've heard all kinds of good things about this place serving soup made from blue mushrooms. Please tell me I'm in the right spot!"
"It's good to hear our reputation precedes us," the dog-eared NPC chimed in. "You are correct, sir. We do serve Gloomshroom ramen."
"Hey, Benedict, shut it," Tobias snapped.
"Ramen?" The customer's face lit up. "I haven't had ramen in forever! I'd love to try some, please!"
Tobias did not bother hiding his irritation. "Have you not seen the state of this town?"
"Y-Yeah, it looks like a tornado ripped through," the guy said, frowning.
"'Stampede' would be the more accurate term…" Tobias muttered.
"So where's everybody? Is everyone all right?"
That question made Tobias really look at the stranger.
Hazelnut hair—memorable, but no. Tobias had never seen him before. The still-boyish face did not ring any bells either.
Clothes-wise, the guy was wearing one of those cheap green jackets everyone had back in year one because every NPC shop sold them for next to nothing. And underneath? A freaking Beginner's Shirt?
Tobias tried to check his level. All it showed was… 'OA=='.
The hell was even that?
Whatever. A hidden level usually meant trouble. It would not be the first time some high-level player ran around in starter gear just to flex or mess with people.
But the real tell was the round icon next to the stranger's level: a star with white stripes.
Everyone in Eurola knew what that meant.
Shooting Stars guild, huh.
That made Tobias dial back the attitude… after one loud sigh.
"Think we can manage this?" he asked the NPCs.
"Despite the restaurant's condition, we have everything we need to cook, manager," Benedict replied.
"Just say the word, Manager!" Margaret, the female NPC with horse ears chimed in.
Tobias trudged over to the fridge. The famous mushrooms had held up fine despite two days without power. A timer hovered above them—a few days left before they spoiled.
"All right, we'll make your ramen," Tobias called out. "But we're adding extra Gloomshrooms, you hear me? Don't complain if you end up hating them."
"I won't! I've even liked them raw!"
As they started prepping, Tobias noticed another NPC standing outside—hands clasped behind her back, posture ramrod straight, like she was standing guard.
"That's Anastasia," the young man said apologetically. "I already asked, but she's not hungry."
"They rarely are," Tobias muttered.
— 2.2 —
The smell of boiling Gloomshrooms rolled out of the kitchen—earthy, almost metallic.
The guy at the table leaned forward, nostrils flaring. "I can't wait," he whispered.
The aroma curled out through the broken windows into the deserted plaza. Even the waiting NPC sniffed the air, fox ears twitching, but she stubbornly held her post and did not glance back.
Tobias chuckled despite himself.
Even in ruins, this place still knows how to make mouths water, he thought, stirring the pot.
Patrons used to say that eating here felt like the old days. After all, Gloomshrooms only grew in mountain caves—just like the ones everyone had spawned from on Day One.
'Nostalgia makes everything taste better,' that was Tobias's motto.
And the regulars would joke right back, 'So you're admitting your ramen is mediocre at best?'
Laughter all around.
But he had meant it. When Benedict asked him to come up with a new dish for this spot, Tobias hunted for something familiar. Even if people had never tasted Gloomshroom before—raw or cooked—they would recognize the flavor on some deep, subconscious level.
That was the whole point, and he had nailed it.
"What's your name, stranger?" Tobias asked, tossing his apron aside and sitting across from the guy.
"Alan Warden. Yours?"
"Tobias Wilson."
Margaret slid two steaming bowls between them with quiet efficiency. "Enjoy," she said, a little giddy.
Even though the mushrooms were bright blue, the broth came out a plain, oily brown.
"Why isn't it…?" Alan started.
Tobias cut him off. "The mushroom loses its special properties once boiled. But the flavor is all there, I promise."
"Ah, got it. This. Looks. Amazing~!" Alan giggled, snapping apart a fresh pair of chopsticks.
"So what's your story, Alan?"
"Anastasia and I are just heading to Londorus. She's a friend I met recently."
I did not ask about your NPC.
"A friend, huh? Londorus is a long haul from here. What happened to your mount? Or why not take the blimp?"
"About that…" Alan trailed off. "Public transport has had some… explosive issues lately." He took his first slurp of noodles and moaned in pure bliss. "Oh my god. So good! Can I get green tea too, please?"
"Green tea coming right up!" Margaret called from the kitchen.
Tobias narrowed his eyes at Alan. Was it just him, or did this guy seem… off? The way he savored every sip like it was his last meal ever. The dramatic little faces he made tasting each noodle.
And his whole look, too.
Alan desperately needed a haircut—his reddish hair was shaggy, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look like he had run a five-day marathon without sleep.
It doesn't concern me.
Tobias shook his head and focused on his own bowl.
He took a spoonful and smiled faintly. "Tasty as always," he whispered.
"Hey, can I ask a dumb question?" Alan said, pointing his chopsticks at Tobias. "What's the deal with Users owning businesses nowadays? Weren't NPCs the ones running every shop?"
A 'dumb question,' he called it.
This was not dumb—it was straight-up bizarre.
'Did you hit your head? Or have you been living under a rock for the last three years?'
That is what Tobias wanted to say. Or maybe this guy was just trying to start a whole thing about exploiting the 'lower class.'
But remembering the Shooting Stars guild tag, Tobias swallowed the snark and just shrugged.
"We completed the chain quest until we earned the manager title. Same as anyone else. Did you not do the same to 'befriend' your partner out there?" Tobias smirked, slurping a long strand of noodles.
When he looked up, Alan looked conflicted.
"I…"
The bowls rattled on the table. Utensils clattered in the kitchen.
The ground shook beneath their feet.
Tobias shot up, knocking his chair over. "Oh, for the love of—!"
A deep, grinding roar echoed as the earth split open.
Alan looked outside and saw a white mass surging up from underground, flooding the plaza. It moved like it had a mind of its own, swirling in circles around the fountain.
"What's that?"
"Bloody Bunyards—hundreds of them!" Tobias yelled.
"'Bunyards'?" Alan echoed, finally picking out the individual white critters in the writhing chaos.
Hundreds was not an exaggeration.
The long-eared little monsters moved in perfect sync, like something was puppeteering them—looping endlessly around the fountain, the town's only Checkpoint, which Alan had just used. No way to get near it now.
"Why are they acting like that?" Alan asked, eyes locked on the madness.
"Because they're obviously bugged, that's bloody why!" Tobias bolted to the kitchen and started barking orders. "We're leaving! No time to clean up. Margaret, bring the mount around back. Benedict, grab anything worth taking. Let us get the hell out of this shithole—MOVE!"
While stuffing knives into his pack, Tobias glanced outside. Alan's NPC extended her arm to one side, palm open, and a massive axe materialized out of thin air, snapping into her grasp.
"W-Wait, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Tobias shouted.
Too late.
Anastasia charged straight into the horde, steel flashing, gripping it with both hands.
Tobias had never seen anything like it.
NPCs could defend themselves sometimes—usually bare-handed, and only when no Users were around. After all, they were supposed to give players quests to handle threats like this.
But an NPC swinging a weapon like that?
Watching a woman clad in a gracious maid outfit carve through the swarm, blood splattering her clothes and perfectly rendered face, was… mesmerizing.
The Bunyards were packed so tight that every swing took out ten at once. And from each torn body, two new ones spawned.
Alan's eyes went wide. "You're shitting me."
Tobias snapped out of it. "Bunyards multiply when killed, you idiot—! SERIOUSLY! Where did you two even come from?!"
"How do you get rid of them?" Alan asked urgently.
"Fire! But no matter how many Pyromancers the Devs send in, these things keep respawning! So tell your employee to stop before something worse shows up!"
Only then did Alan notice the Bunyards around Anastasia were ignoring her completely, still circling like their lives depended on it.
"Anastasia, Docile Mode, now! Get over here!" he shouted.
She froze instantly, then carefully picked her way back to the restaurant, stepping around the critters so she did not crush any.
"They're still pouring out of that hole," Alan whispered, eyeing the crack thirty feet away.
As their numbers swelled, dozens poured through the restaurant's open windows and began smashing into the remaining tables.
Alan saved his bowl just in time. Tobias' was not so lucky—noodles trampled under tiny paws.
"No interest in the food either," Alan noted.
The ground shook again. More Bunyards erupted like a white geyser, raining down onto rooftops and dying instantly—spawning even more.
"At this rate, it's only a matter of time before a—!" Tobias started.
A perfect circle of skittering Bunyards began spiraling inward—hundreds piling up, overlapping, writhing into a living knot.
Then it pulsed.
The mass shifted texture, like furry dough. Limbs twitched and fused. Bones cracked as they realigned. Muscular arms extended, ending in claws that sparked against the broken pavement.
A head with elongated ears rose last, and below it—two huge front teeth in a wide, manic grin.
What stood there now was not a swarm anymore. It was one towering abomination—meaner, hulking, easily two stories tall.
Looming over the fountain, it let out a cackling roar that echoed down the empty streets.
"Great. Just great. A Werebunyard," Tobias growled through clenched teeth.
"Oh, so that's what it was," Alan muttered.
"Time to go! Unlike the little ones, that thing definitely wants blood. Come on, we can slip out the back—!"
Tobias turned and watched his only customer stroll over to the counter, finish the last of his broth, and set the empty bowl down.
A payment window popped up; Alan tapped it without looking.
"I'll stay," he said, meeting Tobias's stare. "I cannot let that thing keep wrecking this town."
Tobias could not see it from his angle, but he knew the Werebunyard's average level by heart: 45.
Way above anyone left in this town.
His eyes drifted back to the strange value over Alan's head.
'OA=='.
What the hell did that even mean?
But if Alan Warden was that calm, maybe he actually could handle it.
Still…
"Hey, just so you know, plenty of people have tried wiping out this plague and failed."
"That's why I'll try to solve the problem instead." Alan smiled. "Let me make sure I've got this right… A Werebunyard spawns after you kill a certain number, right? Do you know how many?"
"One hundred, I'm fairly certain. No—definitely."
"So as long as we do not rack up a hundred more as collateral, we're good. Noted." Alan turned toward the doorway. "The ramen was delicious, Tobias. Thanks for serving me even though you were in a rush."
Tobias stood frozen, backpack straps digging into his shoulders, watching the teen in the cheap green jacket walk straight out through the shattered doorway, glass crunching under his boots.
But something about leaving without a word did not sit right with him.
"Hey! If you actually fix this mess, come back! I'll treat you to a month of free ramen, all right?"
"You don't have to, but I'd love to eat your specialty again!"
Knowing he would be dead weight, Tobias slipped out the back and did not look behind him.
As the sounds of battle echoed in the distance, he somehow knew his new acquaintance would be fine.
He was a Shooting Star, after all.
"We'll camp nearby and check in the morning to see if the guy actually did anything," he told the NPCs.
Unbeknownst to Tobias—with no way to decode what OA== really meant—he was putting his trust in a level-nine User.