MMORPG: Rise of the Strongest Shadow God

The wind swept through the darkened streets, dragging a low, hollow wail behind it that prickled the back of Flynn’s neck.

In Moster City, curfew fell like a curtain late at night, sealing off nearly every district. Only Norlinst Avenue and a handful of other busy areas were spared, left glowing with light and noise, but here the silence was absolute. Doors were bolted, windows shuttered, and the ordinary NPCs had long since withdrawn indoors. This street, just a short distance away from the livelier quarters, felt abandoned, as if the city itself had stepped away and left it behind. Even the faintest sound carried too far across the cobblestones.

The city guards still made their rounds after midnight, though far less frequently than during the day. There were gaps in their patrols, stretches of time where no one would come. As long as you weren’t caught in the act, you could move unseen.

Flynn stopped without warning.

He stilled completely, even his breathing fading into nothing as his senses sharpened. Something was wrong. It wasn’t obvious, not something he could point to, just a subtle disturbance in the air that set off an instinct deep in his gut. He leaned into that feeling, focusing until the silence itself seemed to press in on him.

Then he heard it.

Less than a yard ahead, so faint it barely existed, there was the soft, uneven rhythm of someone trying to breathe quietly.

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face.

In one smooth motion, Flynn pulled a copper bomb from his belt and tossed it toward the sound. At the same instant, he stepped in, his body already aligned with where his target had to be, and drove his blade forward into empty space.

The result came all at once.

A sharp explosion split the silence, followed by the harsh rip of leather tearing under force. The sounds echoed down the street, jarringly loud in the stillness. Blood sprayed into the air, and VoidShadow’s figure snapped into view as his stealth collapsed.

His eyes were wide, locked on Flynn in disbelief, as if he couldn’t process what had just happened.

He didn’t react or dodge. He couldn’t even fight back.

Flynn didn’t hesitate either. The follow-up strikes were clean and efficient, leaving no room for recovery. Within seconds, it was over.

Just before he hit the ground, VoidShadow let out a sharp, furious snarl, his voice cracking with frustration. "Are you kidding me? I stepped out for a quick bite and came back, and you’re still here?!"

There was no attempt to lower his voice this time. It carried clearly, unmistakably the voice of an annoyed teenager who had just had his night ruined.

Flynn glanced down at him, unimpressed. "Kid," he said quietly, "you’re still green."

VoidShadow lay there, staring up at nothing, anger boiling under his skin. Of all the people he could have run into, it had to be someone like this. He had logged off for a bit, come back thinking he might get lucky, maybe observe his target and pick a better moment, and instead walked straight into a trap that had been waiting for him the whole time.

What didn’t make sense was how.

How did Night-Stalker find him? He had been careful, hidden and watching.

Flynn crouched slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Patience is the only thing a rogue can’t fake," he said. "You either have it, or you don’t." He let out a small breath, something between a sigh and a chuckle. "I thought you’d been waiting this whole time. Didn’t expect you to disappear for a snack."

VoidShadow wanted to snap back, to throw every insult he could think of, but all that came out were muffled, useless sounds. A second later, the realization hit him. Corpses didn’t talk.

He paused, then opened his interface, ready to type something out instead. But when he looked again, the street was empty.

Flynn was gone.

VoidShadow blinked, stunned for a moment before frustration surged back even harder. "What the hell? He just leaves? That’s it?" There was no one there to hear him, but he kept going anyway. "We’re not done!"

The anger didn’t help. Nothing about this helped.

Three deaths, with thirty percent of his experience gone. The mercenary contract he had taken had already been marked as a failure. He hadn’t done many jobs yet, only seven in total, but the first six had gone perfectly. Now his success rate had taken a hit he couldn’t ignore.

"Damn you, Night-Stalker," he muttered through clenched teeth as the world shifted and he respawned at the Temple of Rebirth. "Just wait."

---

Flynn didn’t stay after the kill.

There was no reason to. Chasing VoidShadow down again would just be unnecessary trouble, and the point had already been made. The kid wouldn’t forget this anytime soon.

What lingered in Flynn’s mind instead was something else entirely.

The Mercenary Guild.

VoidShadow had mentioned it more than once, and curiosity was enough to pull Flynn toward the city center. After checking his map, he adjusted his route and headed in that direction at a steady pace.

Player killing usually came with consequences. Infamy was the main one, a system that tracked how reckless or aggressive you were. Kill the wrong target, and it stacked up quickly.

There were exceptions, though.

If your target had a bounty, killing them could actually reduce your infamy instead of increasing it. The same applied to self-defense. If someone attacked first, you were free to respond without penalty.

Flynn’s situation was a mix of both sides.

The first time he killed VoidShadow had been clean, self-defense. No penalty there. The second and third times, however, were entirely on him. Those had added to his infamy without question.

Still, time had worked in his favor. Some of the earlier points had already faded, and even after the recent additions, he was sitting at six. Which was manageable.

The Mercenary Guild stood along Guild Street, right in the heart of Moster City, surrounded by the other class-specific guild buildings. Even at this hour, the place wasn’t entirely empty. A few players lingered here and there, but most of the activity came from NPC staff, all of whom remained at their posts regardless of the time.

Flynn took a slow walk through the main hall before approaching anyone.

The walls were covered with information: codes of conduct, ranking charts, lists of high-profile mercenaries, and a display of the most difficult bounty contracts currently available. Twenty-three entries sat at the top tier, labeled as "God-tier" quests, each one demanding enough to make even experienced players think twice.

Only after taking it all in did Flynn step up to the counter.

"Mr. Cage," he said in a casual tone. "I’d like to register."

The receptionist looked up immediately, offering a practiced smile that didn’t quite feel forced. He reached for a set of blank parchment sheets and slid them across the counter. "Of course. Please fill out your details and the registration form."

It was straightforward. Name, class, level, along with a short section asking about his reasons for joining. Flynn skimmed through it, then picked up the quill and filled everything out without hesitation before handing it back.

Cage glanced over the pages quickly, his expression unchanged at first, then his eyes paused.

He looked up again, this time focusing on Flynn’s chest, and his demeanor shifted almost instantly. "My apologies," he said, a touch more respectful now. "I didn’t notice your medallion earlier."

Flynn followed his gaze, his fingers brushing lightly against the silver emblem. "This?"

Cage straightened slightly. "An Elite Rogue Medallion is not something handed out lightly. It means your skills have already been recognized by your guild." There was a note of genuine respect in his voice now. "Someone with your qualifications wouldn’t need to start from the bottom here."

Flynn raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So you’ll skip the Novice rank entirely," Cage replied. "You’ll be registered as a Bronze-grade mercenary right away."

Flynn let out a quiet breath, somewhere between amused and satisfied. "That saves time."

It wasn’t a massive advantage, but it mattered. Bronze-grade mercenaries had access to better contracts, better rewards, and certain opportunities that weren’t even available to lower ranks. More importantly, it opened the door to forming a mercenary squad later on, if he ever decided to go that route.

Cage processed the paperwork quickly and returned with a new medallion, this one bronze, its surface faintly polished. The stats attached to it were balanced, a modest boost across multiple attributes, along with a small reduction in the guild’s commission fees.

It wasn’t flashy, but it was useful. Flynn pinned it alongside his Rogue medallion without much thought.

Cage hesitated for a moment, then added, "There is still a registration fee. Eighty silver."

Flynn didn’t bother counting it out. He dropped a gold coin onto the counter instead. "Keep the rest."

That earned a genuine reaction. Cage’s eyes lit up, and his smile became noticeably warmer. "Thank you. That’s very generous."

Flynn had started to notice it more clearly now. The longer he spent in this world, the harder it was to treat NPCs like simple background elements. They reacted, remembered, and carried themselves with a kind of consistency that made the world feel whole.

Chad had said something like that once. A good game needed more than mechanics. It needed a world that felt lived in.

Cage returned a moment later with a small booklet and handed it over. "These are the contracts currently available to you. You can hold up to five at a time."

Flynn flipped it open.

The interface responded immediately, letting him filter through options based on level and difficulty. A long list appeared, nearly a hundred entries, each marked with codes like [16C] or [16D]. The number indicated the recommended level, while the letter represented the difficulty tier.

As a Bronze-grade mercenary, C and D ranks were within reach.

Some of the contracts were straightforward. Hunting tasks, material gathering, escort missions. One offered eighty silver and a decent chunk of experience for killing twenty tigers just outside the city.

The rewards varied, especially depending on whether the contract came from NPCs or players. NPC jobs usually offered experience alongside gold, while player-posted ones were purely transactional.

Then Flynn found the one he was looking for. He selected it, and the details expanded in front of him.

"Kill Night-Stalker. Reward: 10 gold per kill."

Flynn let out a low whistle, a grin forming across his face.

"Well," he murmured, "looks like I’m worth something after all." He tapped the listing lightly, his eyes narrowing with interest. "Ten gold for ten percent of my experience..."

He leaned back slightly, "Not a bad price."