It was the most exhausting Monday after the most exhausting weekend in the entire lives of many Cybercore employees, especially those in management positions. Today – at last – many of them were given a decent leave, something they didn't expect would happen, as the fires continued to burn vehemently …

… and yet, their boss decided to add more fuel to the blazing inferno, and then told them to get a healthy amount of shut eye. They were anxious, but they didn't refuse. They were all spent, and would need to recharge for what was to come. Luckily, they still had some time before that ticking bomb went off.

Ignacio felt greatly relieved. He could feel the weariness down to his very core, but now the pressure was all gone. He briefed his deputies and left them with directions already, switched his AI assistant to emergencies only, took a relaxing bath at a company spa, and now lied in a warm and comfy herbal therapy massage cabin, his eyelids suddenly feeling indescribably heavy.

That was a very good start in his mind. Everything … was going to be … just … fine …

…

“Who was that?” Radiant Bulwark was at a loss, and so was his trusted treasurer.

They kept glancing at each other weirdly, unsure of what to do next. Follow the NPC? Better not, right? This might have been Carl's secret. But how long should they wait? He wasn't responding to their messages, after all.

“Fate? We probably shouldn't inform anyone just yet, should we?”

“Probably not, boss.”

“Okay. Tell me what happened.”

…

Amaranthine Bushido scrutinized the four returnees indifferently.

He previously moved back with Radiant Bulwark to their own lobby to continue watching their subordinates while they sparred, and everyone else was regarding the mages with pity whenever they took a break to recover their tortured senses. These were the finest spellcasters in their guild, holding a significant percentage of Skyborne Lions' assets – mighty existences that subdued terrifying ghost by the hundreds, walking cannons, while everyone else was cannon fodder for them. Their firepower could be compared to artillery, while all the measly hunters were mere infantry – totally disposable. But now …

… these four pampered players sweltered. They no longer looked so peerless.

All of them, on the other hand, the combatants training in the arena, were elated. Initially they were reluctant and apprehensive about the boss' orders, horrified even, considering ways how to get out of their predicament. But now? A whole new world opened up before them!

The beginning was dreadfully difficult, but in time, as they gradually overcame their instinctual blockades, they got rolling. Nobody was forcing them, they picked their own tempo, and … it was fun! A fantastically competitive atmosphere permeated the venue, as they slowly one upped each other, laughed, congratulated, and wowed.

They were doing it wrong all along!

Melee combat wasn't about preservation!

Here, they were immortals, so why should they care?

No, there was no point holding back. Carl had proven it for all of them. Winning wasn't about being the last man standing at all cost.

It was about dominating!

Charging in fearlessly and setting the tone of the fight from the get go!

Of course, this required peak skill. A skill they sorely lacked. But that's why they were here – abandoning the grind for money and proficiencies, because it was a waste of precious time! Their higher-ups had already given them an ultimatum – all gladiators who dauntlessly pushed forward in spite of tormenting mutilation would be nurtured into experts, while everyone else would be relegated to gold farming.

What an opportunity that was!

Carl was the real peerless entity. He was leagues above expensive mages, performing feats with starter gear they could not with equipment worth a fortune. Death defiant – That's what a true warrior should be!

Could they, too – everyday, ordinary people – really become like him? The boss seemed to think so, in which case … they would try their hardest!

“Commander Bushido, did he … ?” Melting Heart pried timidly.

“What do you think?” the swordsman replied flatly. “You guys messed up,” he summarized simply. “You messed up big time.”

…

Carl was so delighted by the beatific bath that he almost fell asleep in those 30 seconds. Or was he fainting? He couldn't distinguish. Either way, his body was devastated. He would likely have to endure some sickening aftereffects, too. Who knew how long would that last.

But that didn't matter. He would now take it easy and release the pent up stress on the dire wolves. That should be entertaining enough.

Only now did he think back on all the system prompts. He may not have attained any new honors, which was a shame, but he repeated his two current ones, and he combined them to produce something truly remarkable on top of that. Even Cybercore agreed. Though it was disturbing to realize they were now monitoring him, it was also his source of pride and joy.

“Bigger! I need to make bigger waves! This is only a prelude!”

The world was an ugly place, and he was running out of time. The multiple miracles he had performed in just one day were insufficient. He had to keep building!

Walking back to the entrance, Carl was a pauper yet again. Nathaniel wasn't so considerate that he would restore him for free – he arbitrarily gauged Carl's merit for vanquishing restless spirits, and gave him a one-time 50% discount, erasing 25 gold from his pouch, which the hero carelessly took with him into the dungeon. The 50 gold he got from Skyborne Lions was no more.

But that was irrelevant. He was a happy man. Now that was a worthy fight! He broke past his limits countless times, thinking he could not take one more step, and yet he did. It was a thoroughly satisfying training session. And as a bonus, he got himself a second title.

“Hmm, is the condition for a deadly challenge the difference of 1 entire realm? I might have gotten stronger in many regards and was armed with consumables, but the centurion hid behind its minions, so the overall difficulty was even higher than with the horrid wolf. That's worth investigating.”

He looked back on the message with a smirk.

“Congratulations! You have single-handedly defeated a deadly ghost!”

“You have been granted the title of Ghost Buster!”

“You should visit the City Hall administration at your nearest convenience.”

Meanwhile, his favorite Ripping Claw got promoted to advanced level, granting 3.5x momentum boost, together with Champion's Conviction, as he pumped an inordinate amount of mana into it during the harrowing experience. It was also a grade 0 ability, which allowed a faster progress.

[Champion's Conviction] (activable)

Empowering skill, grade 0 (peak), advanced level.

Effects: x*(1+x/base_vitality)/s mana upkeep for 0.25x points of vitality, target: self, augments vitality and improves pain tolerance, exhausts proportionally to the upkeep costs.

As Carl's willpower reached 25 and stopped there for now, he had 7.5/s mana regeneration with the mental buff, so the calculation was straightforward – substitute x with 5, and he would get a boost of 1.25 to vitality, which would noticeably impact stamina. Triple that with inferior mana potions, and five times that with common ones.

But there was a downside – underlying avatar exhaustion, which would require extended resting periods. The amount Carl accrued in his intense battle was already problematic back then, as it totaled somewhere in the range of 20 000 points of mana upkeep, a number an average player would need six hours to reach with 1/s of regeneration. Though it all got erased by Beatific Restoration, he would rack it back up within an hour of running, and he couldn't afford to bathe in the sacred font this often … yet. After all, this particular skill wasn't meant for such mundane applications, only for deciding duels.

“Hey guys, I'm back! Thanks for the lift.” Carl smiled and waved genially.

“Brother Lionheart, you …” The duo examined him with disbelief. There was only one service in the temple they could think of …

“Hmm? Haha! I admit, it's so nice and refreshing to be clean once more. I better savor this while it lasts!” Carl beamed.

“How are you feeling?” Weaving Fate inquired worriedly. Carl may have seemed fine on the outside, but what about his real body?

“Yeah, I'll have to take it easy now,” he admitted with a scowl. “I was thinking I could try the black wolves' den before I went offline for the night, but I'll just stick to grinding the dire wolves.”

“Are you … sure? Shouldn't you rather go to bed right away?” the caring woman advised.

“Nah, I need to unload.” Carl laughed. “Let's go.”

They then continued in a private conversation, using telepathy, which was allowed during leisure time in safe and common areas for convenience.

“Brother Lionheart, I don't mean to be nosy, but … did you have to pay something?” the Skyborne Lions' treasurer inquired tentatively.

“Unfortunately, yeah. 25 gold with the merit I gained, so the money you gave me is all gone now, sorry,” Carl confessed awkwardly.

“Only this much?!” Radiant Bulwark balked.

“Wait, but … you didn't exorcise any ghosts,” Weaving fate noticed.

“Heh, I'm afraid that would never be enough on it's own. Oh, by the way, did your people return to get the loot?”

The two faltered, looking at each other helplessly.

“I'm sorry about this bunch of good-for-nothings, brother Lionheart … they abandoned you and didn't even bother checking if you were still alive …” the dejected axeman apologized sincerely.

“You mean the dungeon closed? So they don't know yet? Well that's convenient.” Carl smiled. “Don't tell them, then, okay?”

Realization dawned on his companions. It was indeed true – they were the only ones privy to Carl's incredible feat at the moment. Everyone else would probably think he merely escaped through the portal with Weaving Fate, because that was the only reasonable explanation.

“Absolutely, brother Lionheart. We can keep a secret,” Radiant Bulwark promised solemnly. “But … the players are talking already. They saw me pick you up in the expedition hall, and they saw me hand you over to some very important NPC … there's bound to be recordings …”

“Obviously, it'll come out sooner or later. There's clues everywhere, and I can't keep it hidden forever, like my Beast Slayer title. You guys know, right?”

“We do, you admitted it yourself, after all, and you have your badge out on display. It can be identified.”

“I think he means titles in general, boss,” the woman corrected. “Yes, we know about them, just like every other large organization, and the public is slowly finding out as well. There are even a few bigshots in Asia openly boasting about their own.

“Mhm, I got mine for completing a deadly challenge, that is for single-handedly killing a deadly beast. I suspect one whole realm of difference is the requirement for full-realism players, and for you it will be accordingly more.”

“Oh, that's a valuable insight, thank you, brother Lionheart!” The axeman appreciated the candor.

“Well, it's not worth much, really,” Carl dismissed. “But I can tell you about something that is.” He smiled conspiratorially. “Only you, though.”

“Y-yes, brother Lionheart, we won't tell anyone!” the Skyborne Lions duo vowed impatiently.

“This information could sell for a fortune, but I trust you will keep it to yourselves and use it wisely. In fact, it's so valuable, wars would erupt over it …”

…

Blood Brothers guild provisional headquarters, Geneva Colosseum.

As a convenient place of gatherings, taking advantage of and further contributing to the hectic temple plaza traffic, the arena was used by all large player groups as a base of operations – as each could have a lobby of their own in the tutorial, and nobody was yet able to secure a residence.

“Chief, they just returned with him! He's completely healthy and pristinely clean!” a scout reported.

“I knew it! I bloody knew it!” a slender, middle-aged fencer sporting an exquisite, embroidered black outfit and well-groomed facial hair exclaimed with passion. “That scoundrel has discovered something big, and he brought Skyborne Lions onto our turf to reap the benefits, instead of approaching us! Oh no, boyo, you're forgetting yourself. This is my city!”

“What should we do, chief?” The surrounding veterans, all of them excellently geared, attentively turned to him.

“Hmm … let's watch his NPCs for now.” The man in the center of attention caressed his elegant mustache with a smirk. “We're going to teach him a lesson for intruding into our home!”