Carl sat down under an ornate pier in the southern corner of the Expedition Association, where he met Fleeting Time's party before.

“System, I need a small break.”

“You are permitted to sever your connection up to 5 minutes. Afterwards, you will automatically log off and your avatar will disappear. Please make sure you will not create an inconvenience for other players when going away.”

“Alright, this will do.”

Taking off his helmet, Carl was mercilessly assaulted by reality. He once more felt his weak body, standing in such a stark contrast to the one he got used to over the past several hours. He felt the exhaustion and sleepiness wash over him. He felt hunger and thirst, which he so effortlessly suppressed while inside the exciting game. He also felt the familiar pain when moving his deteriorating muscles.

Getting up from his bed, he grabbed a snack and did some light exercises while eating. Although returning to this world reminded him of his sorrows, deep down he now felt a very welcome warmth. He didn't care if he was going to live just one or a hundred more years, he never did. All he ever wanted was to live with untarnished dignity.

Quickly washing his face, he took some deep breaths, watching his meager self in the mirror. He smirked at the image.

“Time for a bloodbath!”

Quite a few players had already gathered by the portal number one. They were conversing furtively, watching each other like wolves.

“I'm telling you, let's not stand in front of him. It will seem too desperate!”

“Come on, look how many teams there are! You seriously think we should just let them all get ahead of us?”

“I don't know … maybe we ought to talk with them and agree to send one representative each?”

“You're too honest, man, really. These vultures won't hesitate to shove you aside, trust me.”

“Oh! Oh! He's back!”

Carl stood up slowly, taking in his surroundings.

“What … is this? Did I do something wrong? Was I not supposed to rest here?”

He looked around with confusion.

“Uh-oh, he does not like that. Look at his face,” someone whispered.

“Quiet!” another voice chastised. “Ekhem, welcome back, friend!”

“Thanks,” Carl replied simply, walking forward with a resolute pace. This startled the encirclement, because the distance was far too close for Carl's speed. They jostled to make room for him, forgetting their tongues. They then watched, as the great personage approached the edge of the all-encompassing cream marble stairs and peered into the distance, his lone figure atop the platform resembling a ruler watching over his people. They were once more about to accost him, when he raised his hand and waved.

Of course – how naive of them. He already had a party …

Carl naturally realized what it was about once he got his bearings. He didn't forget the scene he caused with Fleeting Time and his family. Now, he could see his five flimsy wards rushing towards him from the main marketplace. With his 20 perception, he could also hear the subdued buzzing of the gawkers behind him.

“Oi, Oi, what is he doing?!”

“Five henchmen? Does he have no fear?”

“Maybe he doesn't know about reputation?”

“It's our chance, we should warn him and ask to go with him instead!”

“Not even a player healer? That's nuts!”

“Yeah, what's that NPC gonna do? They're useless!”

“Does he think he'll get all the loot?”

Carl scanned his new party. They were indeed a sore sight. But that tracker … he was something else. Maybe it was merely a system assist, how the lisping huntsman found him, but there were also two very bold claims – 1-shot-1-kill, and 100% skinning success rate. Carl had to see for himself.

Most importantly, though – this NPC had character.

“How many did you get?”

“166, Master Lionheart! They were 60 pennies a piece, that's 99 Ster–”

“Later. Let's go.”

“System, are those five in my party?”

“They're all willing to follow you. Would you like to form an official party with them?”

“Yes.”

“Party confirmed. You're the leader.”

While the initial hopefuls struggled to overcome their apprehensions, which arose due to Carl's scary aura, more onlookers joined. After all, NPCs were very conspicuous in a player-dedicated establishment, especially with their system markers. Carl resolutely operated the terminal, choosing gray wolves' den without sparing other options a glance, and walked into the vortex uninterrupted.

“Did that guy just seriously go in with five henchmen?”

“Well, he's gonna find out why nobody does that.”

“I understand the rangers, they're passable, but the tanks are utter trash. And no player healer? Healers are so OP as beginners, and look how many were lining up to befriend him.”

“He's gonna lose them all and ruin his rep.”

“You guys don't read the forums? He's the Charles Lionheart, some peerless expert. He killed an evolved horrid wolf a few hours back. Single-handedly and almost naked, if that wasn't enough. There's even a suspicion that he plays on full realism.”

“Pfft, yea, right!”

“Just read up on it. You may then apologize to me.”

“No wonder he isn't afraid to take five henchmen. He's that confident he can keep them alive.”

“I don't know, he's only one man, and an assassin at that. From what I've heard, henchmen drop like flies in the black wolves' den. Unless he can keep them on a tight leash, they'll get themselves into trouble in no time.”

“Yea, and they'll want a fair share of the loot anyway.”

The sun was high in the sky, pleasantly warming the skin. A soothing breeze blew by, and the omnipresent, relaxing sounds of nature replaced the tiresome noise of the city. The woods themselves were quite similar as before, only much more … mellow. Maybe it was because of the brighter colors, but Carl didn't feel any threat whatsoever.

Theodore was the first to arrive.

“Master Lionheart? We … don't have enough poison.”

“No matter. Can you track while running?”

“I can, but … it would be better if I could stop from time to time … I think.”

“Sure,” Carl allowed, pulling out a ration. “How's your stamina, guys? Will everyone be able to keep up if we run? Sunny, Bub? Father Petro?”

“We just ate, Master Lionheart, and you shouldn't look down on my old age. I can pull my own weight, I assure you,” the white-haired elder declared.

“Toothy didn't eat, though,” Bonecracker noticed.

“That's fine.” Theodore waved his hand merrily.

“Here, chop chop.”

“Master Lionheart, I– … thank you!”

There was no refusing Carl's orders. They devoured their meals in record breaking time with the system's help, then took off.

“Go for the thicket in the middle of the forest. Weapons in hand and stick together at all times. Bub and Sunny, you just keep your comrades safe, I'll be doing the killing.”

Holding Black Fang in his left and the battle karambit in his right, Carl followed Theodore with the other four behind him. Nobody said a word, but he could see the tense anticipation on their faces.

As a beginner area, the instanced dungeon wasn't big, and the density of mobs compared to the open world was very high. It only took three short stops for fresh tracks to appear, and soon after that the huntsman gave a signal to be quiet.

“Large pack, Master Lionheart, they haven't smelled us yet,” he whispered nervously, but with joy.

“Good. I'll go ahead and engage. Let them think I'm alone for a while. Once I kill a few, you rush out and start shooting.”

Carl was also eager to jump into action. He gained an awesome knife that was designed to crush bone – it was the fang of a giant lizard, after all. He had a new armor, and he was curious how the reinforced bracers would hold up to biting. He was in far less danger, too – common gray wolves were only as large as a male German Shepherd, and even prowlers were only supposed to be comparable to a common black wolf, which basically meant they were the same size as real-life wolves, 40 to 80 kilograms. All he needed to do was to open the situation up so that the archers could shoot without impediments. Swiftly, he dropped his backpack and sneaked up on the roving lupines, which he only saw after traversing half the distance.

“Are his eyes this good, or is it all system's help?”

By then, they detected him as well. Alarmed by the skulking figure, the forty-odd animals stopped and stared at him, while three alphas came forward. Their behavior was almost the same as black wolves', but Carl could sense the nuance. They were certainly more suspicious and indecisive.

[Gray Wolf] (common, mortal)

HP: 50

[Gray Wolf] (alpha, mortal)

HP: 75

“Let's see what's that immortal of yours worth, Toothy,” Bub jabbed.

“Shhh!”

“Shouldn't we follow him? There's too many, he'll get overrun.” Bonecracker worried.

“Not yet, Master Lionheart said we wait until he killed a few,” Theodore calmed, despite thinking the same himself.

Carl wasn't in the same mental state as before. He didn't come for a challenge – he came for a slaughter. And the wolves weren't the same, either. They didn't take the initiative to rush him – they defended instead, despite their massive numbers advantage.

The alpha Carl targeted shrunk back slightly with a vicious show of fangs, growling. But he never stopped, on the contrary – he only sped up.

And then it began.

Vicious Hook!

As the alpha sprung forth, the black dagger held in hammer grip like a claw moved to intercept in a rather sloppy motion, since Carl was used to striking enemies that held on to him already, or those that he held on to. Nevertheless, the serrated blade found the wolf's chest and kept going, until it left the laceration on the jaw.

“Oh, how satisfying!”

Jarring Fist!

Still delighted with the ease of his newfound cutting ability, Carl welcomed the alpha to his right with a punch that missed the nose he was aiming for completely – but not all was lost, as it landed on the neck and halted the advance mid-air. Now that Carl's and the wolf's momenta clashed, the karambit held in the right hand was pressed directly at the throat …

Ripping Claw!

Activating the skill in a backhand motion didn't diminish its effects much, and a deep slit was soon squirting blood. As both wolves collided with Carl from the front and right, there was now the one on his left which he lost sight of …

Ripping Claw!

Striking blindly with the Black Fang in a wide arch, Carl felt resistance … and then lack thereof. A third whimper announced a third victim. Turning to look, Carl saw the moment the lifeless body hit the ground. Its chest right below the neck was cleaved open like with an axe, gushing profusely.

Not wasting any time, Carl brutally assaulted the other two critically wounded lupines, swiftly ending them with the black knuckle dagger.

“Woah-ho-ho! That was … almost effortless!”

While the fine weapon consumed 50% more mana, it also drastically increased the momentum of attacks and strengthened the forcefields they produced – maybe not by 50%, rather by the square root of it, but the difference was glaring. Combined with its sheer bulkiness, it was a devastating tool.

Still, Carl realized he got lucky with this blitz, as no teeth even touched his armor. The gray alphas may have been smaller than black commons, but their 60 kilograms combined with their agility and reflexes were by no means insubstantial. He knew he should cherish this flawless record while it lasted.

Standing up, he appraised the situation. About forty pairs of eyes were fearfully staring at him. Many wolves were baring their fangs, but none dared step forward. Some were even retreating already. Behind him – nobody.

“Oh boy … I guess I'll have to tone it down a bit …”