Carl was blithely skinning his prey, one after another, oblivious to the countless wolves watching him mutilate their kin from a safe distance.

After the boss fell, even the prowlers lost their spirit and subsequently a large portion of their battle power, which depended greatly on their initiative and speed, thus allowing themselves to be easy pickings. What more the alphas, that didn't dare approach Carl on their own? After he killed the three he set out against, supported by his team, the other alphas retreated once he started walking towards them.

There was no point chasing, as he understood he was the only protection his companions had, and Lissome Shot was all out of arrows anyway. On his own, he could never catch a healthy wolf if it wanted to run.

So he just ignored them all, and would happily engage them should they muster the courage.

“Do you realize what you just did, brother Carl?” Looming Oak asked, abnormally aloof, and yet relaxed, as if the mobs surrounding them were merely harmless spectators. In his mind, the battle was over and done with – Carl looked like an invincible existence that instilled dread and reverence.

“He has a brain, duh? Unlike some people,” his sister mocked.

“I'm not sure he even cares, kids,” Fleeting Time commented soberly.

The hero merely smirked under his nose, busy with his work. Both men were right!

Carl naturally understood the magnitude of his feat. Even if he didn't understand it as a professional gamer, the wealth of messages he received from the system would have told him. The 1st grade horrid wolf was a higher realm entity, after all, not something that mortals could hope to contend with. It was ridiculously strong for its size, as strong as a grizzly bear. Though Carl now had a new, athletic body, he still felt more disadvantaged against this physical prowess than he previously did against the lion as his fragile self.

But strength wasn't all – there was the crucial aspect of vitality as well. The critical wound he inflicted on the neck was so devastating, it would instakill a regular, mortal beast. But the horrid wolf still had more in the tank, much more. The only reason Carl emerged from the confrontation victorious was the massive burst damage he did with magically empowered weapons combined with the fortunate circumstances that granted him passing access to the creature's various viscera.

On the other hand, Carl wasn't after achievements. The only things he wanted for himself were far more abstract.

“Aren't you going to skin your prowlers?” he asked out of the blue, done with the three alphas and getting only one pelt. “You guys killed them, go ahead.” He nudged, seeing their abashment.

“No-no, brother Carl, you do it. You might be getting close to intermediate level,” Fleeting Time refused earnestly.

“Alright, then. So how much do you need for that Fine Yew Bow, Liss?” Carl inquired, handing the pelt over to Looming Oak.

The girl was momentarily stumped for words.

“You heard that?”

“He has 20 perception, Liss,” her brother reminded.

“Oh, I forgot.” She paused, and then beamed, overcome with gratitude. “Not that much, only–”

“No, Liss,” her grandfather interrupted. “Brother Carl will need costly treatment at the temple. We might not even have enough,” he surmised glumly. He fixed Carl's bones as best he could, but it only made them rigid. At this point Carl was severely handicapped, his maximum health points down to 78 and his movements impaired, while asking him to die so he could gain a new body would just be foolish and disrespectful, not to mention counterproductive, given his money-making capabilities.

This immediately put the girl off.

“No worries about that.” Carl comforted. “Tell me, though, Uncle Time – how come you didn't warn me about the horrid wolf?”

“This, err …” The poor old man faltered. “I didn't even consider this possibility …” he admitted, mortified.

“They're much rarer than dire wolves.” Merciful Breeze came to the rescue. She was more spunky and resolute than before. “Maybe you flushed it out with your terrifying performance, brother Carl?” She giggled frivolously.

“Haha, you might be on to something, cuz! You beat them so badly, brother Carl, they run to daddy to tell on you!” Looming Oak seconded merrily.

“Serves them right!” Lissome Shot concluded indignantly.

But Carl didn't laugh at the obvious jokes. With his experience, he didn't outright reject this idea.

Merciful Breeze suddenly inhaled sharply. “The rewards!” she exclaimed, thoroughly waking her family. “I wonder, what are we going to get for conquering the dungeon?” She jumped with joyous anticipation, joined by the other girl.

“Bound gear, for sure. That's all the tutorial dungeons award on your first conquest, as bound items are a blessing for newbies. You don't know that, brother Carl, but we've completed some easier dungeons before, and that's how we got the equipment you see us use,” Fleeting Time informed calmly.

“Yes, but I mean the quality! Do you think it will be great or fine?”

“Maybe fine? Who knows.” The old man smiled, winking at Lissome Shot and rekindling her hopes. “The professional teams are too tight-lipped. But if a peak grade 0 dire wolf counts as a boss of a rank 4 dungeon … no, surely it's going to be fine quality this time, no doubt about that!”

“Aww, uncle will be so sour when he finds out we had an empty slot in the party and he went to bed early …” the sweet girl realized regretfully.

“Serves him right, too!” Lissome Shot laughed mischievously at her father's plight.

“Is it random or can we choose?” Carl inquired.

“We can choose one item from a system shop,” the cleric answered.

Carl only smiled. It just so happened he needed a new knife.

“Kind of funny, though, that they would put 'fine' above 'great', it's a bit confusing,” the unusually talkative Merciful Breeze remarked.

“Nah, it sounds accurate. I mean – 'wow, that's a great weapon!' or 'oof, that is a fine weapon …', you can sense the subtlety, right? To me it immediately indicates a higher level of finesse,” Looming Oak redressed.

“Uncle Time, you mentioned professional teams in regards to horrid wolves, did they already succeed? With only 6 people? Also, you referred to a dire wolf boss, so does that mean you guys killed one? And one more thing – is killing a boss the only way to conquer a dungeon? What if it doesn't spawn?” Carl fired off, as he moved on to the third prowler, having failed twice.

“You think too much of us, brother Carl.” The old man shook his head wistfully. “If we met a dire wolf, it would be a bad day for us, and we would try our best to retreat. We could kill a lone common one, which is a bit tougher to deal with than a black prowler, but a roaming alpha would be too risky, and they are accompanied by packs of gray wolves more often than not. Worst of all, however, is the dire wolf prowler, which is considered the final boss of gray wolves' den. It's about as big as this common horrid wolf, only nowhere near as strong. Still, its thick hide provides it with formidable defense, cushioning bludgeon attacks and resisting slashes. Honestly, your fighting style is the only real way to deal with them reliably. Spears, short swords and arrows, anything that pierces deeply. Moreover, the go-to way of conquering the den is to kill the boss quickly and then die to the surrounding swarm, as all your beginner gear is safely bound to you. Afterwards, you retrieve your prize from the administration and suffer one day of weakness, backtracking to rank 3 dungeons, performing other tasks or exploring the city. And if the boss doesn't spawn, then you restart the den until it does, because simply clearing it won't suffice. The only reward you get for that is instant teleportation to the hall.”

“Mhm.” Carl nodded, giving away his black prowler pelt and moving on to the main course unhurriedly. All the wolves were still staring and making a commotion, so Carl let his body language do the talking.

“That's probably why I completely forgot about the boss this time, because we got so used to hunting for easy bounties, that all we were after was coin,” Fleeting Time continued. “As for the conquest rewards, they got posted on forums many times, confirming that the gray wolves' den is a rank 4 dungeon awarding an item from a rank 4 system shop. Nobody, however, has yet officially verified the black wolves' den to be a rank 5 dungeon. Shows to prove the disparity between a dire wolf prowler and a common horrid wolf. And while I think the horrid wolf has already been slain many times as well, these parties are excellently equipped with gear and potent consumables. They have whole guilds and gaming workshops supporting them, and I mean countless thousands of lackeys tediously farming funds and pooling them together to sponsor one group of six experts. Imagine if you had several hundred, or even a thousand gold only to yourself, brother Carl … it would be preposterous to think they haven't succeeded yet. Every single player association is scrambling to conduct research for the full launch. Doesn't matter that this is a demo version and our progress will be reset in a month, they're frantically buying ingame currency and all information that is for sale to get ahead of the curve, constantly driving the prices.”

“Wait, they're buying? Is the exchange up already?” Carl asked in confusion.

“It's not.” The cleric smiled. “But the black market doesn't care. Also, there's plenty of ways to do it legally, like promising payment after the full launch, or non-monetary benefits, like guild membership, protection, and other guarantees.”

“Oh, I understand now. That's great news for Cybercore and for the game. It seems Immortal Frontier is going to boom like nothing we've ever seen,” Carl deduced.

“Great news for us, as well,” Fleeting Time added with content.

“Heh, this is great news, too.” Carl grinned, holding a giant horrid wolf pelt. “It seems our gains have just doubled.”

“Congratulations! Your Skinning has reached the intermediate level!”

[Skinning] (activable)

Dagger skill, grade 0 (base), intermediate level.

Effects: Provides a good chance of retrieving the skin of a defeated animal.

“Oh …”

“That's indeed excellent, and I'm happy for you, brother Carl. But this is solely your quarry, and you will need it for fixing your body and getting new armor anyway. The dungeon conquest rewards you have so magnanimously given us are worth far, far more than that, likely exceeding a hundred gold altogether, as these four fine quality items will be bound to us for free. That's a fortune we could not earn in two weeks of grinding. Hmm? I'm sorry, were you saying something?”

“It's nothing, only my skinning skill has just advanced to intermediate rank,” Carl admitted modestly, holding back his excitement. “I think we're going to give the various guilds a run for their money,” he quipped with a smirk, envisioning a grand future.

“I–ah … I'll be honest with you, Carl,” Fleeting Time glanced at his grandchildren with mournful eyes, and voiced the thoughts they had all been harboring. “We'll only be dragging you down, brother …”

A powerful and mighty laughter suddenly resounded throughout the forest, frightening half the black wolves and petrifying the rest. Despite being utterly sincere, it also thoroughly subdued the family of four.

Carl, who was now almost uniformly colored scarlet red from all the gore, faced them with a beaming visage.

“After all this time, after hearing me talk and seeing me fight, you still think I'm here for personal gain?” he asked loudly, but tenderly, prompting his scared companions to look at each other sheepishly.

“No.” he shook his head gently, before inhaling for a monumental statement. “I – am Charles Lionheart, and I've come to shake the world awake!”