Chapter 116: A strange unregistered player…
Was it simply a difference in personality between the spirits themselves, or did it reflect something deeper about the nature of each individual item, some hidden criteria unique to Excalibur alone?
He didn’t have answers to any of it, not yet. That, more than anything else, was exactly why the library in Aldreth mattered so much to him right now.
Somewhere in this world’s history, in whatever old texts or ancient records might exist documenting the legends behind Arthur, Medusa, and now Hermes.
He believed there had to be something capable of shedding real light on the situation he’d found himself tangled up in.
The transport rumbled along steadily, cutting through open stretches of land interspersed occasionally with smaller towns and settlements, each one blurring past quickly.
The overall landscape carried a strange, uneven quality to it, patches of clearly modern construction standing awkwardly beside older, more dilapidated structures, as though development here had occurred unevenly, favoring certain areas while leaving others to stagnate entirely.
He suspected, without needing anyone to confirm it directly, that the disparity tracked closely with whatever class system apparently governed daily life across the Western Continent.
Wealthier, higher-ranked areas probably received priority for infrastructure investment, proper security, and guild protection, while places like Ratdale, populated largely by people the system had already written off as expendable, were left to quietly rot in comparison.
It made him increasingly curious, and increasingly wary, about what he’d actually find once the transport finally reached Aldreth itself.
If disparity this stark existed even within a relatively minor regional route like this one, he could only imagine how much more pronounced the divide might become inside the capital city itself, where the concentration of wealth, power, and guild influence would presumably be at its absolute highest.
He glanced down briefly at his own hands, resting quietly in his lap, thinking again about Cleo, about Bursting Jade, and about the quiet, careful warning the old man had given him before he left.
Whatever political games existed within a city like Aldreth, games built on guild influence, class hierarchy, and connections he currently knew almost nothing about, he would need to tread more carefully there than he had in Ratdale.
Still, careful didn’t mean cautious to the point of paralysis.
He hadn’t traveled halfway across an unfamiliar continent, disguised and hunted, simply to turn back the moment a single wounded player’s pride threatened to complicate things.
Whatever Cleo eventually decided to do about the humiliation Leon had handed him back in Ratdale, Leon would deal with it when, and if, it actually became a real problem.
For now, he allowed himself to simply sit back against the worn seat, watching the unfamiliar landscape of Berx continue rolling past outside the window, letting the steady hum of the transport lull some of the day’s exhaustion out of his shoulders.
***
Meanwhile...
Cleo landed just outside the towering glass structure that served as Bursting Jade’s main outpost in Aldreth, his boots clicking sharply against the polished ground below.
His expression was still tight with irritation, the memory of his humiliation back in Ratdale refusing to fade no matter how much distance he put between himself and that town.
He moved quickly through the entrance, ignoring the greetings from a few lower-ranked guild members stationed near the front doors.
He had more important things to deal with right now than idle pleasantries.
He made his way straight toward the upper floors, heading for the office of the vice guild master, a man named Draven.
If anyone in the guild could make sense of what Cleo had just witnessed, it would be him.
He knocked once on the heavy office door before stepping inside without waiting for a response.
Draven sat behind a wide desk, his sharp eyes lifting the moment Cleo entered.
He was an older man, broad-shouldered, with a hardened face that carried years of battle experience behind it.
As an A-rank player, his presence alone was enough to make most guild members nervous, but Cleo had grown used to speaking with him directly over the years.
"You’re back early," Draven said, setting down whatever document he’d been reading. "I take it the dungeon break in Ratdale was handled?"
Cleo hesitated for a moment before answering, his jaw tightening slightly. "It was handled," he said. "Just not by me."
Draven’s brow rose slightly at that. "Explain."
Cleo took a seat across from him without being asked, his mind still racing as he tried to figure out where exactly to begin.
"By the time I arrived, the break was already over," he said. "Every monster that came out of that gate was already dead."
"Dead how?" Draven asked, his tone sharpening slightly with interest.
"A player," Cleo said. "Some unregistered player I’ve never seen before. He killed the boss monster before I could even land a hit on it."
Draven’s expression shifted slightly, his earlier disinterest fading into something more focused. "Unregistered?"
Cleo nodded. "I checked the local registry after I left. There’s no record of anyone matching his description operating in this region. No guild affiliation. Nothing."
Draven leaned back slowly in his chair, folding his arms as he studied Cleo carefully. "You’re certain about this?"
"I’m certain," Cleo said, his frustration bleeding into his voice now. "I fired three fire arrows directly at that boss monster. By the time they landed, he’d already crossed the entire street, decapitated it, and returned to where he was standing before my attacks even hit."
Draven’s frown deepened. "That’s not possible for a B-rank monster fight. Not unless—"
"Unless he’s far stronger than either of us," Cleo finished for him. "That’s exactly what I’m telling you."
Silence settled over the office for a long moment as Draven considered everything Cleo had just told him. He drummed his fingers slowly against the surface of his desk, clearly turning the information over in his mind.
"What did he look like?" Draven finally asked.
Cleo shook his head slightly.
"Hard to say for certain. He was covered head to toe in filth when I saw him, sewage from the looks of it. I couldn’t get a clear read on his face beneath all that grime."
"And his gear?"
"Nothing remarkable, at least not visibly," Cleo said. "No obvious weapon. He fought with his fists, if you could even call it fighting. He barely seemed to try."
Draven’s frown deepened further at that detail. A player capable of taking down a boss-tier monster with bare-handed strikes, without visible effort, wasn’t something either of them could easily dismiss.
"There’s something else," Cleo added, his voice quieter now. "He openly stood up against me, in front of an entire crowd of civilians. When I asked which guild he belonged to, he refused to answer. He just told me to leave."
Draven’s eyes narrowed sharply. "He threatened you?"
"Not directly," Cleo admitted. "But it was clear he wasn’t afraid of me at all. If anything, he seemed completely unconcerned about the guild banner I represent."
Draven remained quiet for a moment longer, clearly weighing the implications of everything Cleo had just described.
Finally, he spoke again, his tone measured and careful.
"A player capable of casually killing a boss monster, unconcerned by a B-rank player backed by an A-rank guild, operating without any registered affiliation at all. That doesn’t fit the profile of some independent wanderer."
Cleo nodded slowly, having already reached a similar conclusion himself on the ride back to Aldreth.
"That’s what worries me too," he said. "Someone with that kind of strength has to belong to a guild. No player builds power like that operating entirely alone. It doesn’t make sense."
Draven’s expression grew more serious.
"If he does belong to a guild, then whichever guild it is must be significant. Strong enough to produce a player capable of that level of combat ability, yet careful enough to keep him completely off the registry. Then... that’s not just incompetence, more like... they’re trying to hide him."
Cleo’s stomach tightened slightly at the thought. "You think someone sent him to Ratdale on purpose?"
"I think it’s a possibility we can’t ignore," Draven said. "Ratdale is a minor town. Low-class, low priority, hardly the kind of place any serious guild would bother sending resources toward, especially not someone powerful enough to solo a boss monster without effort. If he was there deliberately, there has to be a reason."
Cleo leaned forward slightly, his earlier frustration now shifting into something closer to genuine unease.
"What kind of reason could justify sending someone like that to a place like Ratdale?"
Draven shook his head slowly. "I don’t know yet. That’s exactly the problem."
He stood up from his desk, moving toward the wide window overlooking the sprawling skyline of Aldreth below.
For a long moment, he said nothing, simply staring out at the city, his mind clearly working through the possibilities.
"There are a few reasons a guild might send someone unregistered into a low-priority region like that," he said finally, still facing the window.
"Testing new equipment somewhere unlikely to draw attention. Hiding a valuable asset from rival guilds by keeping him off official records entirely. Or scouting something specific within the region itself, something Ratdale might be sitting on top of without anyone realizing it."