“Hi Fate. Check this out!” Carl grinned childishly.

“… Hi … brother Lionheart.”

“Do you get it? It's a single bracer! Empowered gravidon!”

“Ah, yes … that's what I meant earlier. I thought you knew. Here, it's repaired.” The subdued elven enchantress handed over the hardened steel bite sleeve that he relinquished earlier. Quite neat that bound items could still be left in someone else's custody – they'd only disappear into the ether if anyone else but their owner tried wielding them or when the owner logged off, same as bound items that got lost. They would then have to be recalled through a temple service at a fraction of the binding costs.

“Hmm? What's up with the long faces?” Carl asked of the Skyborne Lions that were now arriving in his lobby. They were going to spar here, and the NPCs would be arriving soon, as the word was already spreading.

“Brother Lionheart … bad news.” Radiant Bulwark exhaled sadly, pain evident on his face. “Our management and majority shareholders just concluded a meeting with the board of Blood Brothers. They agreed … on an alliance. We basically got paid off … in order to sever our deal with you.”

“That's regrettable,” Carl stated blithely, astounding everyone. “Although … I actually prefer to stand alone,” he admitted after looking to the side and ruminating for a few weighty seconds. “No matter. But I still owe you a few runs for all you've invested into me so far.”

“Y-yes, the guild leader requested twenty rank 5 rewards, if that's alright with you …” the axeman revealed with shame. “You can keep the armor and we will still supply you for those runs. We also have the mana potions you requisitioned.”

That was a generous gesture, as it amounted to about 75 gold of liquid funds per run, exceeding Carl's initial offer by whole 50%.

“And don't worry, brother Lionheart, except for a very narrow and loyal circle wise to your death defiance, nobody has a clue about honors, and it shall remain this way,” Weaving Fate messaged with sincerity, receiving a nod from Carl.

“Then … I suppose the sparring session is over?”

“No-no, I'll spar with you any time you want! Nobody can tell me not to!” Radiant Bulwark vowed emphatically. “And–”

“Me too!” Amaranthine Bushido stepped forward boldly. “And if they don't like it, they can dissolve my contract,” he declared with conviction.

Behind him, the gathered bunch of a couple dozen handpicked Skyborne Lions also showed readiness.

“Were you saying something, brother Bulwark?”

The axeman took a deep breath and spoke in a solemn tone.

“I was. Old Leon has disappointed me greatly. We've started out as a valiant small group, afraid of no challenge. We grew a guild together from scratch. We've raised many promising youngsters. You could even joke now, that we've always been blood brothers. Alas … his priorities shifted with age and financial success. Today, he has eventually put business before honor. And I won't stand for that,” he advocated earnestly, then turned to his people and dropped the hammer. “I'm leaving Skyborne Lions.”

“Boss … !” the distraught Weaving Fate bawled.

“Well, that makes things easier for me. Thanks boss,” Amaranthine Bushido seconded the decision sedately.

“Err … can I come with?” a carefree voice sounded from the crowd, where a hand was tentatively risen.

“Then I'm leaving, too!” the elven enchantress exclaimed with tears in her eyes.

“No, Fate,” Radiant Bulwark categorically disapproved. “You contract is much more stringent than ours, as you hold a strategic position and are privy to all the guild operations. Stay there for now, and let it run out. They can easily forbid you from playing the game otherwise. I'm not even sure if they'll let Bushido off the hook.”

“But … !”

“No buts. It's an order.”

“Boss? We don't have any NDAs …”

The touched axeman examined his subordinates, all of whom seemed unperturbed and willing to follow him. He selected them for the covert mission of nurturing honorable full-realism players, as prescribed by Carl. They were driven and passionate, fully embracing their new training regimen. Predictably, most of them came from the middle and bottom layers of their association, and as such had rather ordinary contracts.

“I will not tell you what to do. You should all know what is best for you.”

“But … you will have no more funding! You'll have to waste time securing your own!” Weaving Fate bemoaned.

“Well, we will have to start farming our own gold, then. Right?” Radiant Bulwark addressed his men – and women, of whom there were a couple, surprisingly. Physical harm was a male-dominated domain, after all – another point for which Immortal Frontier was viciously bashed.

His question was met with unanimous accord.

“Farm gold?!” Carl burst with uproarious laughter. “Guys, are you forgetting who you're dealing with?” he grinned with glee, stumping them completely, as they had indeed forgotten! “Announce an auction for party slots. If I can't rake in a thousand Gold Crowns in a day, then I'm not Charles Lionheart!”

Everyone gaped and goggled.

It was that monstrous claim once more!

He was actually serious!

“Brother … Lionheart … we can't just–”

“I need Scrolls of Danger, though. Will you be able to take care of that? Maybe mention a discount for anyone who brings their own in the announcement? Unfortunately, we can't avoid a price spike. Surely the Blood Brothers are already on it.”

“No, not really!” Weaving Fate livened up. “The world is a big place, and Blood Brothers are a drop in a bucket. There just isn't enough peerless experts to exhaust the supply. Professional NPC trackers aside, remember that only full-realism players can use these scrolls cost-efficiently, and apparently Cybercore has just doubled down and introduced a change that will make it even harder for them!”

“Did they?” Carl couldn't help but recall the immediate fix to announcer packs, which he was single-handedly responsible for. The Skyborne Lions turned to him with concern, seeing his startled expression. “Awesome!!!” Carl jumped for joy, bringing up his fists. The comic relief was so intense that the arena was momentarily filled with mirth.

“Haha, it's all but certain, brother Lionheart,” the consoled enchantress continued with verve. “People are complaining increasingly more on the forums since yesterday, as some elite full-realism players have come out of the shadows to argue that they tried the scrolls before, and their effects were not as drastic back then, confirming our own suspicions. In light of this development, I wouldn't be surprised if the price of the scrolls dropped!”

“That's great news,” Carl acknowledged cheerfully. “But I doubt the price will drop. With how amazing these scrolls are, many organizations will stockpile them for later, when they can finally make use of them. I'd be happy if the price remained stable – which it won't. So is it doable? I'll need at least 20 scrolls a day, mind you.”

“Mhm, If you employ all the bidders to help you in this search, it might be doable,” Weaving Fate confirmed with excitement.

“I'll deal with that,” Amaranthine Bushido spoke up confidently. “I've been working with Fate closely, and I think I can take up her mantle for our small group.”

“Then I will give you some pointers,” the woman volunteered eagerly. “After all, auctioning is an advanced art, where a small nuance can make a difference.”

“Wait! I know!” Carl shouted with exhilaration, jolting everyone. “Publicize the Camp Redmont quest!”

The enchantress inhaled sharply, but it was Radiant Bulwark who beat her to it.

“Haha, brother Lionheart, sometimes I wonder if you are perhaps an old pro in disguise! This is brilliant!”

“Very good.” Carl nodded with content. “Now it's all on me to deliver. While the bracer and bite sleeve should protect my hand sufficiently, I desperately need to be able to salvage unforeseen situations. For one, there's my low agility, and two, the wolves don't always bite. With 20 runs a day, there's bound to be accidents, as I've already experienced with the dire wolf prowlers. Those are easy to rectify, but horrid wolves are a whole other story. To this end, I've requested your assistance.” He turned to the two dozen combatants. “I'm sorry, but it won't be a fair fight. Because what I need – are punching bags.”

The soon-to-be ex- Skyborne Lions recoiled, raised their brows and looked at each other unsurely.

“Of course, brother Lionheart, I know you know what you're doing,” the axeman consented.

“Hehe, let me ask you this,” Carl began, seeing the confusion, “how many melee combatants with my kind of mana regeneration do you know?”

Now they understood … as Carl requisitioned 180 inferior mana potions … and an hour of sparring …

18 gold per session …

What extravagance!

They couldn't deny, though, that it was true what Carl said – others would have to opt for common or even good mana potions to match him in that regard. However, there was still a key detail to be inserted into the equation …

“O-kay,” Radiant Bulwark yielded with reserve. “I only see one problem with that. You do realize that reconstitution doesn't affect stamina and exhaustion, right? Sure, you can eat high quality rations and drink energy juice if we don't strike you down so as not to reset the buffs, but there's a fundamental limit to how much mana you can sustainably spend.”

“Naturally.” Carl smiled. The man was 100% correct – he was an old pro! “That's why I've chosen a very particular skill to train.”

“Hmm? Now I'm intrigued!”

Carl chuckled.

“I have to warn you before we begin. While it'll be a harvest of combat proficiencies for me, for you it will be a test of full-realism readiness. Make little of it – make a fool of yourself. So who wants to go first?”

“I can!”

“Me!”

“Bring it!”

“I'm ready!”

A cacophony of fervent voices contested for priority.

“Absolutely not, this shall be my privilege!” Radiant Bulwark proclaimed avariciously. “Come, brother Lionheart, show me what you've got!”

Smirking with anticipation, Carl drew the battle karambit in reverse grip arch in, then stood before the stalwart axeman, peering into his soul.

“Oh no, you show me what you've got!”

Vicious Hook!

The blade found the collar bone, once more making a mockery of the superior brigandine. Radiant Bulwark flinched, but Carl's fluent combo wasn't interrupted.

Ripping Claw!

Ripping Claw!

Ripping Claw!

Ripping Claw!

Ripping Claw!

The karambit cut slightly diagonally downwards, opening up the torso and producing a spectacular sanguinary fountain, parting with the victim's flesh only after it nicked the pelvis.

As the unconscious body fell lifelessly backwards, it got engulfed by the sparkling lights of restoration. A couple seconds later the axeman regained his senses, scrambling to his feet indignantly. All he could see were gaping faces and goggling eyes.

“Dammit! What happened?! My avatar fainted!”

“Mhm, I suppose only at full realism can it be effectively resisted,” Carl commented merrily, happy with his flawless execution. “But you're at the second setting, right? You should have some control over it already.”

“Again!” Radiant Bulwark demanded. “Avoid the rib cage, go for the bowels and the legs instead!”

And so Carl obliged …

“Better! Again!”

“Haha, slow down, I need to drink a potion. Guys, come on over. Can you take turns handing me uncorked vials? Good. You can try defending from time to time if you feel like it, introduce some diversity. Just go with the flow. Stand close together, I want to try some wide slashes as well. Perfect!”

Weaving Fate had become numb to the new Skyborne Lions' routine by then, but this … was just … pure terror!

Cruelty Unleashed!

Literal blood bath!

The slaughter of innocents!

And that monster had once said he didn't feel comfortable harming people …

Unable to deal with the mental trauma, she left with Amaranthine Bushido to prepare him for his new responsibilities.

Carl kept throwing some Jarring Fists into the mix, so that it could reach the advanced level together with Vicious Hook, which didn't require much effort, as they were both close anyway, therefore 90% of the mana went into Ripping Claw.

The amount of insight was tremendous. Supplemented by advice from the more experienced combatants, Carl improved rapidly. Finally – despite reduced gains in light of severe shortcuts – after 70k points of mana expenditure and a very thorough exploration of the realm he was stuck at, right before the hour elapsed, he saw the system prompt he was awaiting.

“Congratulations! Your Ripping Claw has reached the expert level!”