NPCs were notorious cheapskates and severely undervalued almost everything—buy an item from them then immediately sell it back, and you'd be lucky if you get a twentieth of what you paid for. So I wasn't surprised by the disparity between the fifteen Artas NPC price for a Mirdabon’s [Patch of Fur] and the player offered price of two hundred twenty Artas. What did surprise me was the number of buyers for it, as well as other low-level drops, and the wildly varying price offers.

After sorting the buyers' list for a [Patch of Fur], the highest offer was five hundred fifty Artas for an order of fifty pieces. The next was four hundred eighty Artas for eighty. It was as if a stock market had gone mad, the buyers all children left alone to type whatever numbers they wanted.

"Oh, I get it," I said, snapping my fingers after a few seconds of racking my brain.

As I had already realized during my conversation with SpartanDonkey, the Mardukryon race was like a dying MMORPG—most, if not all players were high-leveled and there were next to no new players. It didn't click in my head back then that our closed economy would also be like that of a dying MMORPG.

High-level Mardukryons were flush with money but nothing to spend on because our main questline had stalled—it was as if a game had no new updates for ages. Furthermore, there was a lack of low-level materials because no new players farmed them. The game mechanic system that protected newbies—lowering drop rates the higher the level gap between monster and player—worked against Mardukryons.

These two factors were the perfect match to drive the prices up to the sky!

This is essentially hyperinflation. I told Mum before that there were plenty of real-life lessons to be learned from computer games—that was when she scolded me for being addicted to them. It was more of a joke when I said it, but it was actually true.

This was an incredibly lucrative time to be a new Mardukryon player, but there were barely any—understandably so. Most people were afraid of wasting their time getting stuck on this mountain for a very long time. What use was tons of Artas if they couldn't use it?

Of course, players didn't know they shouldn't worry about trivial things like that. On Herald Stone's infallible word, all Mardukryons were going to escape this mountain someday!

I rubbed my hands together as I scrolled through requests for [Small Fangs], [Black Spikes], [Crab Legs], and other low-level loot. This wasn't a habit of mine, but it felt like the right thing to do as I envisioned all the Artas I'd earn. But I didn't immediately sell the monster drops I had to the players with the highest offers. Instead, I put them up for auction and set the duration for a day.

Healer Gula and her herbs could wait. Now was the time to farm Mirdabons once again.

"Finally...the moment we've all been waiting for ladies and gentlemen!" I stood in the middle of the sea of Mirdabons outside Kurghal Village's southern gate. Around fifty Mirdabons—even if there was a bazillion of these murderous furballs, they'd never be able to kill me. My retribution damage and [Greater Pyro Shell] explosion would easily wipe each pack that'd attack me.

And with a kick at the Mirdabon purring and rolling right next to my hoof, the field of white was set ablaze into a fury of red. It was then that I thought, wait, all of them are in one pack?

Mirdabons with frothing mouths wide open clamped on my hooves and legs. The following batch hopped on top of their siblings and gnawed on my knees. The pile around me continued to grow and grow. They reached my flanks, the top of my lower body, and soon I was waist-deep in fangs and fur. It looked like I was wearing a dress made of red Mirdabons.

Despite their numbers, the angry buggers still hadn't popped my shell. But their health bars were racing to zero due to my retribution damage with each bite they made. Their fast attack speed, munching on me like a school of piranha in a feeding frenzy, was to their detriment.

Mirdabons started to die. I couldn't see them because they were on the ground level and covered by their siblings, but the sparkles of light rising in the air told me that my retribution damage was beginning to claim its first victims. The mass of fur around me sagged down as the Mirdabons in the upper layers dropped down the gaps left by their dead.

They grew larger as their levels rose, pushing the pile up to my chest. I raised my hands so they wouldn't get buried in the mass of dark red fur. My shields were useless in the air. I didn't even have space to block these bastards! An especially large Mirdabon jumped to bite my left elbow and pulled it down.

[Lvl 8 Mirdabon]

"Wrrargh!"

"Grrwooa!"

[Lvl 9 Mirdabon]

"HRWAAAoorrr!"

"Shut up!" I cast [Healing Touch]. Some of the negative ailments they inflicted on me caused Damage-over- Time that my shell couldn't block. "Can't all of you just peacefully eat me?"

This proved my suspicion—indeed, they were all in one gigantic pack.

And the pack wasn't comprised of only the Mirdabons in this clearing in front of Kurghal Village. From the distance, I spotted a tide of red coming from the fringes of the Golden Forest. There must be over a hundred of them rolling towards me.

A problem on multiple levels.

If this continued, I'd be fighting level twenty Mirdabons soon enough. There was no way I could win. And I'm already losing! Even if I could survive the stronger Mirdabons and wipe all of these deranged furballs, they'd give me tons of Essence which I didn't want.

Boom! The explosion of my shell turned the Mirdabons around me into clouds of light. For one second, it was as if I was ascending to heaven, bathed in radiant glory.

Then Mirdabons pressed forward to envelop me once again, each one angrier than the last, taking the place of the others with no hesitation.

[Lvl 10 Mirdabon], [Lvl 11 Mirdabon], [Lvl 12 Mirdabon].

Numerous negative ailments softened me, some of them even reduced my regeneration and [Healing Touch]—another fear of tanks. Crowd control skills locked me in place and prevented recasting my shell—a shameful situation for a tank. Multiple damage-over-time effects ground down my health bar. The new wave of Mirdabons was so strong that I didn't have time to have my entire awesome life flash before my eyes before I died.

"Rise and shine!" I boomed with my demonic Mardukryon voice, stampeding through the Golden Forest as if I was rushing to the toilet. I stepped on snow as much as possible, hit every golden crystal I could to wake up Mirdabons, and pelted those scrambling furballs with stones.

After I respawned in front of the Chief's Lodge inside the village, I resolved to stick to what was tried and tested—leading Mirdabons off the cliffs.

This was faster than facetanking Mirdabons and killing with retribution damage. Furthermore, once a pack pounced on me, they'd weigh me down with their bullshit effects, preventing me from seeking out other packs. Essentially, I'd be fighting one pack at a time unless another pack was nearby, within range of my sling.

Soon enough, I had a large following of Mirdabons hot on my hooves. I looked over my shoulder to see the snarling sea of red plowing through the snow. Maybe more than thirty of them? They were all going to be Artas.

Earlier, I tested killing a Mirdabon pack of eight. It yielded only three [Patch of Fur], among other loots. Before, I'd probably get five or more with a smaller pack. If only I knew about this beforehand, I would've stuck to Mirdabons instead of moving on to Hermit Crabores.

No matter. What's done is done.

I should focus on the now.

I led the Mirdabon horde to a part of the cliffs I had already scouted. It had a very high drop with plenty of room to tumble around, lessening the possibility that any furball would land on top of me while I stood on the tiny ledge below. I wanted entire packs to die all at the same time. If they didn't, the survivors would level and give me more Essence—no, thank you.

And off the cliffs, we go!

I aimed for a gentle drop, hoping not to overshoot my target ledge.

Still, I slammed against a few rocks that jutted out. My [Greater Pyro Shell] kept me safe as I leaned to my side, pressing myself against the almost vertical wall as I slid downwards. I crumpled as I landed on the ledge. My shell exploded. A chunk of my health was gone.

"Ouch, that hurts," I said, more of a reaction than feeling actual pain. It was a longer way down than I had expected—I should've stacked my [Ancestral Constitution] for more security. I looked up and an avalanche of furballs descended. "Here they come"! I laughed as they went past me and fell to the clouds below.

Several Mirdabons did land on my ledge, a couple of them on top of me. Most bounced off because of how hard they fell. Those that remained on the ledge only had a tiny bit of health left and died to my retribution damage after biting me. I tutted in annoyance because they leveled up before dying.

Essence and Gli came in as the Mirdabon packs died, but it was such a minuscule amount that it barely budged my experience bar. And that was exactly what I was hoping for. I wanted to stay as long as possible at level ten, then eleven, maybe twelve.

After that, I wasn't sure how the drop rates were going to be. I could then move to other monsters like the Craborelings.

Herald Stone was going to supply the veteran Mardukryons with the materials they needed.

A successful session of Operation Mirdabon Farming yielded seventeen [Patch of Fur], fourteen [Small Fang], and twelve [Black Spike] from thirty-odd Mirdabons. If I was still around level five, I would've gained more materials, probably a bit more than double. Nonetheless, this was very good money.

I gazed at the far away mountaintops, memories of my first week in MCO floating through my mind. Herald Stone needs more challenges.

Then I opened my WeeCee and made a ‘List’ for MCO.

Goal #1: Kill Buvalu. A straightforward goal without too many restrictions and not that difficult. Technically, I could join a strong party to take out that overgrown winged Mirdabon—that was the most logical and efficient because I was a tank. But that’s too easy. Relying on others? Not what a Goal should be.

And so I edited it—Kill Buvalu on my own.

“I hope this one doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass,” I muttered as I hit save. “Oh, that reminds me. I should ask someone about those Mirdabons outside the village.” If they weren’t infinitely spawning, killing that entire pack was going to be Goal #2. As for Goal #3, it could be something related to Luds, a payback of sorts perhaps? But I was still fuzzy on anything definite.

For now, the farm continues!

I stepped off the edge of the ledge.