Might as Well - Chapter 388 (Patreon)

After a nice date with Lucy, Sam returned to the game with some plans.

The first thing he did was perform a general check of their territories, making sure everything was working as he and the rest of the team had envisioned. He visited the small fractures used by freshly arrived low-level players to begin their leveling journeys.

Naturally, he kept out of sight, not wanting to be mobbed by the crowd. Lucky whined a little, remembering well what had happened the last time and missing those intense belly rubs, but Sam just pushed the wolf’s head back into the shadows.

“Not now, Lucky…” he muttered before leaving the area. He didn’t want to see what would happen when Lucky’s self-control broke.

Then he made a short trip to headquarters, saying hello to Lucy, Adam, and the rest before going to the quartermaster to stock up on the usual tools and a few explosives. They were surprisingly useful. He also replenished his potion supplies while browsing the guild vault's inventory to see if there was anything that caught his eye.

Ultimately, he left the vault without taking anything. There were a few things the other Sam would have found completely insane to see in a "public" guild vault, but none of them were useful to him. There were dozens of weapons that would have fit his build.

Blades made of shadow or wind. Throwing daggers that could lock someone's shadow. Shortswords that could wound a person's soul, inflicting debuffs that crippled the enemy for a while in exchange for absorbing the user's life force: experience points. And so many more, each one edgier than the last, and for some reason every single one decorated with far too many skulls, spikes, and death motifs.

He even reluctantly ignored the scythe named Death Deriver of the Deadly Death Dealer, a giant black weapon with enough spikes on the blade alone to count as a shark. The entire thing was made of solid shadow that, according to the notes, whispered things from beyond the grave and grew stronger the more unique things it killed.

The whispering also deafened the player to everything else, and they gained a distinct aura of death that tried to kill every living thing around them, but Sam felt that, with a bit of elbow grease, he could have overcome those drawbacks...

Sadly, he had no idea how to use a scythe, so it remained in the guild vault, waiting for that very special snowflake who decided that being edgy wasn't enough. They needed to be SUPER edgy...

Plus, using simpler weapons was much more his speed.

It was actually pretty interesting how, over the almost year since the game came out, two very distinct camps had developed among the players.

The first and most popular camp held the belief that, because Magic Unbound didn't have a strict class system, the best way to distinguish themselves from others was through items and artifacts. They always chased the highest stats, the rarest weapons and armor, decked themselves out with the maximum number of accessories, and carried several equipment sets in their inventory for different scenarios.

There was even a dedicated group on the forums that designed equipment sets specifically to counter Sam. Though they made sure to warn anyone who used those sets that the outcome of the fight still depended on the player's skill...

Pity it was public, so Sam had access to it as well and could devise ways to counter those counters.

These people spent an inordinate amount of money every time the newest and shiniest weapon or piece of armor appeared in the Auction House or one of the private auctions. So they were Lucy’s favorite…

The second camp firmly believed in a skills-first approach. They focused on their skills and disdained anyone who needed items to keep up. The most hardcore among them even refused to use magical weapons, claiming that their skills alone were enough to carry them.

Sam, personally, leaned toward the second camp. Skills were absolutely the most important, but even then, the perfectly chosen artifact or item could change the tide of a battle.

Pity it was hard to find items that fit his very exacting and demanding criteria.

After finishing his patrol of Ferabor, he jumped onto Lucky and headed for Vividora, the capital of the Emerald Kingdom. There was something there he wanted to check out.

Sam arrived at the capital and passed through the large gates by flashing the ID the royal palace had issued to him, marking him as someone important. Thankfully, the guards were well trained, so they didn't make a fuss. They merely glanced at it as if it were a normal identification card and waved him through. Though he did sense a man rushing away at high speed toward the palace.

Either a runner sent to notify them of his arrival or somebody up to no good.

Sam shrugged. ‘Ehh, I will deal with it when I have to deal with…’

After that, he merged into the crowd that filled every crevice of the streets, flowing more like a liquid than a mass of people. Most of them were players there to represent their guilds or work on one quest or another.

There were, of course, the noobs who thought the capital would have the best and biggest quests, only to be met with a high cost of living, high-level quest requirements, and unfriendly NPCs who interacted with nobles all day and didn't care about the common folk.

Most of them tried for a few days, then left with their tails tucked between their legs. Which didn't really matter, because for every person who left, two new, bright-eyed and excited players arrived to take their place.

Granted, there were some who managed, through luck or perseverance, to find something worthwhile in the capital, but their stories were only enough to fuel the hopes and dreams of countless new players.

Ducking under a small arch, Sam ignored the three homeless people huddled together under an awning, who followed him with their eyes but didn't say a word. Leaving the crowd behind, he began heading deeper and deeper into the back alleys of the city.

After a minute of wandering, he took out his compass and began following it toward the hopefully nearest entrance to Nowhere.

Luckily, after a few minutes, he found a small shack hidden in the shadows of several larger buildings and entered. There was nothing inside except dust and debris. However, there was an old, rusty, and bent wrought-iron torch holder affixed to the wall, seemingly blended in with the dirty wood.

Sam stepped forward, and the door automatically closed behind him with barely a whisper, and he touched the torch holder. He instantly felt an almost imperceptible pulse of mana sweep over him before he pulled on it, causing a small click.

Then nothing.

“Huh, weird. I thought–“

He was interrupted as the floor fell out from under him, and he dropped into an endless dark pit.

A second after he vanished, the floor silently swung back into place, blending perfectly with the surrounding boards and leaving no evidence that anyone had ever been there. Even the dust on the floor settled in such a way that Sam's gentle footprints disappeared.

Sam landed in a small room on a circular platform that seemed to be enchanted to handle rough landings, based on the runes he could see carved into it.

He sent the guard standing nearby a dark look, but the man just chuckled.

“Nice scream, kid,” he said with a laugh.

Sam scoffed. “I didn’t scream.”

“Sure, sure…” the man replied, his chuckle turning into a full chortle.

“I was just…” Sam paused, searching for a good answer. “Ah, yes! I was just testing the acoustics of the drop chute.”

“And…” The man snickered. “How is it?”

“Exquisite,” Sam deadpanned.

The man snorted again and waved him toward the door. “Go on, Mr. Tester. They’re waiting for you…”

Sam kept his eyes forward, looking anywhere but at the guard, a small dusting of red on his face as he left the room. As the door closed behind him and he found himself in a nondescript corridor, he could hear the guard burst into laughter.

“Hahaha! Every time! This is the best job ever!”

Sam let out a sigh but deliberately didn't look back.

He walked through the empty corridor, completely devoid of doors, until, after a few turns and a flight of stairs, he arrived at the end, where a plain gray door greeted him.

Sam stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, then reached forward, grabbed the round doorknob, and turned it.

The door opened with an ominous creak, and he stepped into a fairly simple lecture hall, with rows of desks facing the central podium, where a lectern stood ready for any presentation. The hall was mostly empty, aside from three people scattered throughout the room.

One sat in the front row with papers and notebooks neatly arranged before them, posture perfectly straight, fingers intertwined, and eyes fixed on him. Another sat somewhere in the middle, leaning against one hand with their elbow resting on the desk while casually reading something. The last occupied the back row, their booted feet propped up on the desk as they snored quietly.

However, he couldn't tell what gender they were or even what they looked like. All of them were shrouded in a shadowy aura that made it impossible to identify any distinguishing features.

“Ahh, our intrepid bomber has arrived…” the person in the front row spoke up. Their voice was distorted, but for some reason Sam imagined they were female, as the cadence of their words reminded him of Lucy whenever she didn't approve of something he had done. “We're ready for your report.”

The person in the middle let out a long-suffering sigh, closed their book, and looked up, though their head still rested in their palm. The only change from the back row was the sudden cessation of snoring.

Sam nodded, walked over to the lectern, and took out the documents he had prepared about the Burning Island. They covered everything from its ecology to the appearance of the demon, and everything in between, especially his team’s interaction with the Spirit of Fire.

He looked down at the stack and then back at the three people. “Er, I didn't prepare multiple copies…”

“Not an issue,” the person in the front row said, waving a hand. The stack of documents in front of Sam glowed gently with a white light, then blurred. A moment later, three copies flew through the room, each landing neatly in front of one of the attendees.

Relieved, Sam cleared his throat, then began speaking.

“Very well then. It began…”

Half an hour later, the report was finished, and Sam stood staring at the people in the lecture hall. The two in the back were no longer pretending not to be paying attention. Both were sitting upright, leafing through his report and occasionally looking up at him.

The person in the front row closed their notebook and looked back at Sam.

“Well, that was informative,” they commented. “It seems we'll have to widen our area of observation if they're going for smaller locations.”

“Those are contested zones…” the person in the middle pointed out. “We could end up in conflict with other organizations.”

The third person in the back row snorted. “As if… It's not like they have different goals. I say we send out people…”

The one in the front row hummed thoughtfully. “Logical. We already have the hot spots. It wouldn't take much effort to direct a few unsuspecting people there to check things out.”

“Maybe spread a few rumors about hidden treasures.”

“They do like that…”

Sam simply watched as they casually discussed manipulating the entire player base. It sounded surprisingly effective.

“If you can, maybe transplant a few pirate groups,” he added after listening for a minute. Instantly, six hidden eyes snapped toward him. “Adventurers like a challenge. Hidden treasure without something guarding it would be too suspicious.”

“Ah, yes. Indeed,” the person in the middle said with a nod. “Maybe a few pirates,” they mused before turning to the person in the back. “Do you still have the contact information for that crazy summoner? Do you think she could get us a few monsters from the Outer Planes?”

The person in the back snorted. “I'm pretty sure she'd pay for the opportunity.”

The other person clapped their hands together. “Well, that's decided. We'll have a task taken care of, and we'll even get paid for it.”

The person in the front row looked over at Sam and nodded. “Thank you for your report, but we'll take it from here.”

Sam bowed his head and beat a hasty retreat.

Outside the room, he found himself in a small waiting area with a comfortable couch and a small table with a gift box on it. Curiously walking closer, he noticed that it had a label with his name on it.

[Congratulations! You delivered an effective report to Nowhere. You have been rewarded with a Mysterious Gift!]

Letting out a sigh, Sam pulled at the ribbon and watched as the box unraveled, leaving him with a smaller box. Opening that one, he found a ring inside.

It was obsidian-colored, with blue accents in a diamond pattern running across its surface. It seemed to be subtly pulling in the surrounding light.

Taking a closer look, Sam picked it up.

[Umbra Band: A ring made out of a dark material that seems to drink in the light. When channeling shadow magic through it, it helps mask its presence while also increasing its potency.]

Sam smiled. “Nice!”

He put it on, then headed for the door.

His report was done.

Time to see what the Blood Army was up to.