Ivan trailed alongside the group of six, eavesdropping on their hushed conversation. It became evident that these six individuals were divided between two guilds, names unfamiliar to Ivan's ears. They were the designated security detail entrusted with safeguarding the semi-peaceful Gozarts town. Paradoxically, the very type of threat they were meant to guard against now stood right in Ivan's midst.
[Lorson Constine (Level 53)]
The young man's hair bleached a dull white and his eyes, shadowed with an inscrutable darkness. His attire, rough and tattered, seemed incongruent with the stature his level might suggest.
While Ivan enjoyed a degree of mobility, he remained under vigilant observation, obliged to shadow the group's movements. The man named Lorson, however, faced a more dire predicament. His wrists were bound unforgivingly, his movements restricted to the minutest degree.
With both figures poised for the journey, the group embarked, embarking upon a trek across a vast, desolate expanse that stretched toward the outskirts of the town. This trail was colloquially referred to as the "Path of Secrets," a thoroughfare where clandestine whispers seldom found an escape.
Positioned side by side, both men occupied the middle of the formation. Ahead of them marched four guild members, while an additional quartet shadowed their steps from behind. Though the spacing was significant, the guild members bore an unrelenting vigilance. Their strategy appeared impeccable—a foolproof method of containment, or so they believed.
Lorson's gaze shifted toward Ivan, his eyes lingering for a moment before he decided to extend a tentative introduction.
"I am Lorson," the man introduced himself, his words directed at Ivan.
"Didn't ask," Ivan retorted dismissively, his attention resolutely fixed ahead.
"Avoiding small talk, I see," Lorson quipped, turning his focus back to the path.
"This walk is going to be quite the journey. Without a bit of conversation, we might find ourselves bored. How about sharing the offense that brought you here?" Lorson proposed, a hint of curiosity in his tone.
Ivan sighed, realizing that his companion was likely to persist until he received an answer. It seemed prudent to oblige him and put an end to the incessant prodding.
"Probably killing all the tutorial players, I assume," Ivan admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of detachment.
"Dark," Lorson commented casually, a hint of intrigue in his tone.
"And you?" Ivan inquired, the tables of curiosity now turned.
"I stole," Lorson replied succinctly, revealing his transgression with an air of nonchalance.
"Stole what?" Ivan pressed, his intrigue growing.
"Whatever I could," Lorson responded, his words carrying a sense of unapologetic pride.
"So, when do you plan on making your escape?" Lorson probed further.
"Who said I had such plans?" Ivan countered, attempting to maintain an air of denial.
"I can see it in your eyes—the eyes of someone like me," Lorson remarked cryptically.
"Hah, I'm nothing like you, or at least I wasn't," Ivan asserted, his words carrying a hint of plans seemingly altered.
"Weren't?" Lorson queried, curiously
"You're a thief, right?" Ivan posed the question.
"And proud of it," Lorson affirmed.
"Well, that makes us a bit more alike now. I intend to rob everyone here," Ivan revealed, his lips curving into a sly, devious smirk.
"Hahaha, this guy's crazier than I am," Lorson burst into laughter, his exclamation drawing the attention of their escorts, who shot them fleeting glances before resuming their forward march, apparently oblivious to Ivan's remark.
"But if you're capable of pulling off a move like that, why not just do it right here in Gozarts town?" Lorson inquired.
"I could ask you the same question. You seem quite capable of handling this bunch," Ivan retorted.
"How would you know that?" Lorson questioned.
"I have the eyes, the eyes for spotting people just like you," Ivan replied, echoing Lorson's earlier sentiment.
"Ha, smartass. Well, I've got my own plans, and I can't afford to stir up trouble right now," Lorson replied.
"I'll cut you in for fifty percent of whatever I manage to score from them," Ivan proposed.
"Is that so? And what's the catch?" Lorson responded skeptically.
"Simple. To fully utilize my skill, I require willingly offered blood. So, when I give you the signal, just bite your finger and let a drop fall to the ground," Ivan explained.
"Sounds like quite the shady skill," Lorson remarked.
"It's straightforward, actually. With it, we can mesmerize them into willingly emptying their inventories for us as well," Ivan elaborated.
"Well, well. Color me intrigued. Just give me the signal when you're ready," Lorson agreed with a hint of excitement in his voice.
The group continued their trek in silence for a while longer, the quiet tension hanging heavy in the air. Suddenly, Ivan came to an abrupt halt, his voice carrying a sinister undertone as he spoke.
"Well, it appears we've reached our destination," Ivan's words rang out, his voice resonating loudly enough for all to hear. The others halted in response, turning their attention to him with puzzled expressions.
"What do you mean we've reached? We still have a few miles to go," one of the players escorting Ivan and Lorson retorted.
"I can assure you, this is where you all will stop," Ivan asserted confidently, his gaze fixed on the bewildered group. With a nod to Lorson, Ivan's plan was set into motion as Lorson bit his finger, allowing a drop of blood to fall to the ground below.
"What kind of game are you playing here?" Panic laced the voice of one of the escorts, anxiety creeping into his tone.
"Hasban, the Dark Trader, a willing 'kept,' has emerged, and with the necessary sacrifices, I beseech you to grant me entrance into your sanctuary," Ivan proclaimed with an air of authority.
His words seemed to ignite an otherworldly energy in the atmosphere, causing the very air to crackle with sparks. The ground itself trembled beneath their feet, and then, with a deafening roar, a resonating voice echoed through the desolate landscape.
"The blood of the kept has been acknowledged, dropped into the ground where secrets are buried. Whose lives shall I consume?" The thunderous voice boomed from a spectral figure that materialized before them, shrouded in a tattered cloak that only partially concealed its skeletal form.
[Hasban, the Dark Trader has manifested]
"A life from each of those gathered here, except 'the kept,'" Ivan responded firmly.
"Very well, offer these lives unto me," the voice thundered once more.
At this point, a chilling blend of fear and confusion held everyone present in its grip. They were utterly oblivious to the unfolding events, their sense of bewilderment growing. However, the fear escalated dramatically as multiple iron rods materialized out of thin air, impaling one of the escorting players and snuffing out his life in an instant.
[ Skill: Iron rain is active ]
"Indeed, one life offered. Seven sacrifices remain—bring forth more," Hasban's booming voice resonated once again.
Lorson, equally bewildered, couldn't help but interject, his voice filled with confusion, "What's happening? Weren't we supposed to be robbing them?"
"Robbing them? Ah, yes, we're still very much robbing them," Ivan responded with a sinister undertone. As the remaining players struggled to come to terms with the shocking demise of their companion, another fell victim to the merciless iron rods, meeting the same grim fate.
"We are indeed robbing them—robbing them of their lives," Ivan declared, his words as menacing as the malevolent force that had been summoned.