Out on the plains, Wren split from the siblings. The deal was the capital. He also walked away with the last two rhino horns—between Wade and Sloane, they'd covered him. Turn in the quest, and he was level ten.People were following him. He didn't care. He wanted them to. He was walking straight back into the village like a billboard, on purpose, to drag every Sovereign eye onto him and away from the siblings. Once he was inside the walls, they couldn't touch him anyway.The tail grew. A few Sovereigns, plus a lot of vultures who just smelled a bounty. Killing Wren paid ten silver. Out here, morals were optional—pay and it got done.Nobody wanted to be the first to swing. They walked him almost to the gate."Damn it, he's just got better gear. Are we scared of one guy?"Someone finally came in with a big sword.Wren didn't even turn. The blade was halfway down when the spear snapped out and drove for the man's forehead.-380. He pulled it and swept it sideways.-365. Both crits. The m

Standing in the middle of that battlefield, staring at the endless demons, the only thing that felt real was the spear in his hand.Aldric hadn't said how many points an inheritance cost. Wren just killed.He found out fast: healing items didn't work here. Not potions, not peaches. So one slip and he bled out.A demon with a steel sword came at him swinging. Wren clashed the blade aside and drove the spear into its chest. It dissolved.+1 point.Easy.Then a spear drove into his back from nowhere.-352. He yanked away, heart hammering. The demons had thin health—one hit killed them—but their attack stats were identical to his. The trial was simple: how many kills before he died.Good thing he had Blooddrinker. Potions were banned, but the lifesteal wasn't.He worked through the press, hunting targets, dodging blows from every direction. This kind of fight would've killed him on day one. But days of Basic Spearplay, and fights against high-tier bosses, had put the technique in his hand

Wren left the camp, popped Windwalk, and threaded the trees like an old ape. With the speed boost he reached his target fast: Mists Canyon.The canyon was choked in poison fog, thick with serpents and predators. He didn't get cocky. He gripped Soulreaper and went slow.The fog clung to him like a living thing, cold on his cheeks, turning the light green. He could hear things moving in it—scuttling, hissing, something big breathing through wet nostrils. The canyon walls rose on both sides and cut off the sky, so the only sense he had left was the spear. It felt quiet in his hands. Patient.WHOOSH. A shape launched at him the instant he stepped in. He drove the spear up on reflex.Stab. -235. A leopard-cat. It landed, scrabbled, and was dead before it could blink. He watched it dissolve, then crouched and waited. Nothing else came. He moved on.He threw Inspect.Leopard-cat (Demonized).Level: 12. HP: 6000. Attack: 198. P.Def: 75. M.Def: 52.Skill—Phantom Strike: normal hits land a phan

Wren opened the last node in the first column. Gold light flashed.Heavensbreaker II.Skewer a single enemy for 150% damage. If the target is airborne, this hit is a guaranteed crit. 20 second cooldown.Now he had a whole combo chain. He pocketed the toad's drops and decided to head back to the manor to turn in the scout quest.Then he noticed something: behind where the toad had been, there was a cave mouth. A hidden boss? His heart jumped. He went in.The mouth was barely wide enough for one person. He squeezed through a narrow drop, then opened up. Light flickered from the ceiling, enough to see by. He crept a hundred meters and heard voices."Nice. You thought your little disguise fooled me? My mentor gave me True Sight." A cold, slimy voice. "I came to finish the Demon Lord's errand, and I get a bonus."Wren peeked out. An altar. A man in a black robe stood on it, channeling energy from glowing runes into an orb in his hands. Below the altar, a woman lay on the stone, wounded. In

The old keeper saw Wren hesitate and pressed harder. "Small frontage, I know. But the location—right by the gate. Foot traffic all day. You buy it, hire a brewer, and you sit and collect." He pulled Wren by the arm. "Come see."Behind the tavern was a real courtyard: brewing sheds near the house, open land beyond.Wren stopped in the doorway. It was bigger than he'd expected. The sheds held the grain and the jars, and the rest of the yard was weed-choked dirt—maybe two acres, just sitting there. He'd bought a bar with a farm attached without realizing it."My place is two acres, part of the tavern. You plant flowers, grow things. Better than fighting in the mud."That did it. Wren had his own plan, and the courtyard sold it. Nine hundred gold a month. He'd grind it off. He'd faced down a Gold boss and a thousand players; a mortgage was just numbers."Deal. I'll take it."The old man's eyes almost disappeared. "Wait here. Ink."He came back with brush and paper and wrote the contract l