Ash Valor couldn’t sleep. The phantom sensation of a blade at his throat lingered, a cold weight in the darkness of his room. He was being watched.
"I need a counter-measure for Assassins," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "Stupidly lucky last time. I won’t get a second miracle."
He wasn't under any illusions. His survival against the Crimson Vow hit squad hadn't been a feat of overwhelming skill; it was a fluke. He hadn't even fully grasped the ceiling of his own power yet, let alone how to defend against a professional shadow-stalker.
The fifteen-thousand-gold bounty sat in his inventory—a sweet reward, but a bitter omen. The Crimson Vow were famous for two things: their high density of Assassins and their pathological obsession with vendettas.
The next morning, Ash broke his routine. No early morning grind. No predictable pathing.
"Patterns get you killed," he mused.
If killing a low-level grunt like Flynn Larkin had brought a hit squad to his door, wiping out five more members was going to bring the whole hive down on him. He pulled up the guild rankings for Southhaven. The Crimson Vow boasted over ten thousand members. Their leadership was stacked with Level 130+ elites. In terms of raw lethality, they were arguably on par with the Skystrider Guild.
"If a Level 130 powerhouse decides to end me, ten lives won't be enough," Ash whispered. One man against a guild was a suicide mission.
He opened a private channel to Orion. “I’m a marked man. I’ve done a lot for this guild—any chance for some protection?”
Orion’s reply was curt: “Perfect timing. Go hide in the Level 10 Dungeons. Stay off the world map.”
Ash scoffed. Reliability wasn't Orion’s strong suit. He turned to the only other person who might help—the Skystriders’ top-tier ace, Cole Ashford. They’d fought side-by-side once; maybe that counted for something.
“Don't sweat it, Ash,” Cole replied, his tone dripping with his usual arrogance. “If they show up while you're grinding, I’ll be in the shadows. I’ll gut them before they even unstealth. You’ve got an apex predator in your corner.”
Ash felt a surge of relief until the next message popped up.
“Problem is, I’m out in the field. Won’t be back for a few months. Have you seen my kill count? I’m tearing through Abyss-monsters. I might actually breach the Void Rift just to see if they can bleed.”
"Great. Another blowhard," Ash sighed, closing the interface before Cole could start a monologue.
He paced his room. Maybe he was overreacting? Maybe it wasn't that dangerous?
Then he checked the Southhaven City Channel. A Blood Warrant was scrolling in a continuous, violent loop.
[The Crimson Vow Guild: Ash Valor of the Skystrider Guild is marked. Step one foot outside the Territory and you die. This warrant is permanent.]
The message wasn't just coming from one bot; a dozen high-ranking names from the Bounty Board were spamming it.
Ash typed back, trying to keep a level head: “Look, I never started this. It was self-defense. Can we just bury the hatchet?”
The response was immediate and vitriolic.
“Ash Valor, you’re a cowardly rat hiding your true level.”
“We see everything. We’ll kill you inside the city walls if we have to.”
Ash didn't buy the "city kill" threat—safe zones were absolute—but the harassment was relentless. Then, other voices joined the fray.
Caden Marlowe: “Stop bullying a Level 90 rookie. If you want a fight, come find me.”
Orion: “Touch Ash Valor, and you’re at war with the entire Skystrider Guild.”
Zane: “Listen up, Vow losers! My boy Ash isn't scared of you. Send your best ‘master’ and he’ll crush their skull like a grape!”
Ash hammered his keyboard. “Zane, shut the hell up!”
The man was a magnet for aggro. He wasn't helping; he was throwing gasoline on a forest fire. Ash realized he needed a new look. A mask, a cloak—anything to break his silhouette. But against high-tier Assassins, aesthetics wouldn't save him.
"Let Chitin handle the field mobs," Ash decided. "I’m going underground."
Orion, perhaps feeling a shred of guilt, sent over a crate of Vitality Potions. Ash’s current predicament had started when he saved Vera Laine, who had recently gifted him a set of Gold-Tier armor that he’d immediately liquidated for ten thousand gold. He needed every scrap of power he could get.
He put out a call in the Guild Channel. He wasn't going to solo—he was going to carry.
"Level 6 Hard Mode Dungeon. I need nine crafters. Free loot, free XP."
In seconds, the party was full. Miners, Alchemists, Architects—the "non-combatants" who rarely got to see the inside of a high-level boss room. Ash wanted to show off, sure, but he also remembered how a powerhouse from the Vance Clan had cleared rooms in seconds. He wanted that kind of "prestige."
Besides, he was broke. He needed the drops.
The Level 6 Hard Dungeon, featuring twin Level 60 bosses, fell in record time. They ran it ten times in two hours. The crafters were speechless. For Ash, it was a modest 160 gold profit, but it was a start.
He moved to the Level 7 Dungeon—a 20-man raid with three Level 65 bosses and hundreds of adds. It was a slaughterhouse, and Ash loved it.
Orion messaged him mid-run: “If you’re power-leveling the crafting classes, the guild will subsidize your entry fees.”
"Now we're talking," Ash grinned. Entry fees were 500 gold a pop. If the guild was paying, Ash could keep 100% of the spoils. He turned to his team of wide-eyed crafters. "Change of plans. We aren't just doing a few runs. We’re staying until you hit Level 75."
The Guild Ground buzzed with his name. Ash wasn't just the guy who survived a hit squad anymore; he was the patron saint of the Alchemists and Blacksmiths. He watched as his teammates hit milestones.
"I can finally build Level 3 Defense Towers!" the Architect cheered.
"My mining yield just doubled," a Miner added, admiring his new base stats.
Ash felt a twinge of envy. These people were safe behind the walls, contributing to the world without looking over their shoulders. But he had a different path. He spent the next fifteen days in a blur of arrows and adrenaline, grinding eighteen hours a day.
By the end of the marathon, Ash’s backpack was overflowing. He sold everything—white gear, silver scrap, rare mats. His balance hit 1.81 million gold.
He was 190,000 gold short of the ultimate goal: upgrading his Soulbound Weapon to Gold-Tier.
"Time to test my reputation," Ash muttered. He started hitting up his contacts.
“Orion, I’m five gems short for a weapon upgrade. Loan?”
“Zane, I need Enhancement Gems. Don't ask.”
“Drake Ward, help a brother out?”
Through a mix of genuine respect and shameless pestering, he scrounged together 46 gems. It was time.
The Golden Longbow shimmered as the Refined Gems melted into its frame. The system chime was like music.
[Soulbound Weapon Upgraded to Gold-Tier]
Golden Longbow (Exclusive)
Level: N/A
Stats: All Stats +500 | Attack +10,000 | Range +100 | Attack Speed +1.5 | XP Bonus +60%
Effect 1: 10% Chance for Critical Strike (+10,000 Dmg).
Effect 2: 10% Chance to Ignore Defense.
Effect 3: Reduce Target Defense by 10%.
Effect 4: 0.01% Trigger Rate for [Death Strike].
Effect 5: [Homing Protocol] - Arrows automatically track the target.
Upgrade Req: 1 Billion XP, 10M Gold, 1000 Enhancement Gems, 1000 Refined Gems, 1 Tier Ascension Stone.
Ash stared at the "Homing Protocol" tag. "All those years of target practice... and now the bow does the work for me."
The stats were monstrous. His total Attack Power was now north of 72,000. His Health sat at 218,000. He was a Level 91 Archer with the durability of a Tank and the range of a Siege Engine.
"Right," Ash said, his voice brimming with new-found lethality. "Level 8 Dungeon. Let’s go."
The Level 8 Dungeon was the lair of the Abyssal Broodmother. Ash remembered looking at this mountain-sized spider when he was a rookie and trembling. Now, it was just a target.
As they entered the cavern, a tide of Dread Widows surged toward them—thousands of fist-sized spiders.
"Stay behind the line!" Ash barked. He didn't want the XP to end. "We’re staying here until you’re all Level 80."
The spiders couldn't even scratch his armor. Chitin and the Undying Skeletons formed an impenetrable wall, while Ash became a turret. He didn't even have to aim. He just drew and released, Ninefold Shot after Ninefold Shot. Each arrow veered through the air like a heat-seeking missile, shattering spiders mid-leap.
He spent ten days in that cave. His "One in a Million" passive triggered seven times, granting him 140 points of permanent random stats.
He was about to start another pull when the system chimed.
[The Abyssal Broodmother has been depleted of essence and has perished.]
[Achievement Unlocked: Root and Branch! All Stats +10, Gold +500.]
"I killed it by accident?" Ash blinked. He’d farmed the adds so hard the boss had literally run out of spawns and died of exhaustion.
He pushed through Level 8 Hard Mode, then followed a Skystrider elite team through Level 9 Dungeons for three months. By the time he hit Level 95, his debt was paid, and he had 100,000 gold in his pocket. He immediately dumped it into Skill Tomes.
Multishot upgraded.
Crushing Blow upgraded to Level 2 (20% chance for double damage).
He was ready. He couldn't hide forever. The world outside Southhaven was calling.
He checked the forums one last time. The news was grim. Player-on-player violence was skyrocketing. The Bounty Board was pages long. Then he saw a thread that chilled him: The Slayer's Secret.
Once a player kills ten others, they unlock "Player Looting." Humans become just another type of mob to farm. High-level Archers with low health were the preferred prey.
Ash prepared. He bought a Potion of True Sight for 100 Gold—a two-hour window to see the invisible. He stacked Berserker Draughts, Agility Elixirs, and Strength Serum. His daily upkeep was now thousands of gold. He was a walking gold sink.
"I need to bait the hook," Ash decided.
He went to the Guild Channel: "Free power-leveling outside the Guild Grounds. Level 70 and under only."
Within minutes, he had a full raid. He made sure to spam the chat, ensuring any Crimson Vow spies knew exactly where he was. He set up an elevated platform 500 meters from the gates—close enough to Blink to safety, but far enough to look vulnerable.
For eighteen hours, he worked. He fired into the distance, killing Level 70 mobs 270 meters away. His "One in a Million" popped again and again.
Night fell. Ash pretended to be exhausted, stretching his arms and yawning.
There.
In the flickering mag-lights of the perimeter, shadows shifted. Not the natural movement of trees, but the synchronized glide of professionals. Multiple Assassins. No names, no levels—cloaked in high-tier concealment gear.
Ash whispered to his party's supports. Suddenly, his HUD lit up with buffs.
Attack +10%. Defense +10%. Armor +1000.
He popped a Golden Berserker Brew and a Silver-Tier Instant Recovery Potion.
Attack: 120,364 | Defense: 23,165 | HP: 245,631.
"That’s it for today!" Ash shouted to the rookies, smiling. "See you tomorrow!"
He hopped off the platform and walked toward the gate. He reached the hundred-meter mark, then spun in a blur of motion.
Thrum-thrum-thrum!
Ten arrows shrieked through the night, trailing golden light.
"He sees us! Scatter!" a voice cried from the void.
The Assassins tried to dodge, but the arrows curved in mid-air, locked onto their heat signatures. Phantom Veils shattered. Blood sprayed into the grass.
But as Ash waited for the stragglers to die, a cold lance of pain erupted in his back.
[-106,985!]
The blow nearly doubled him over. A hidden Master—someone even the True Sight Potion hadn't flagged.
Ash didn't panic. He hit Blink instantly, reappearing twenty meters away as a Healing Touch from Lily Mercer hit him. Victor Ward’s protective shield flared around him, reducing incoming damage by 20%.
The Assassin lunged again, but Ash was already within the range of the guild’s Defense Towers. He didn't look back. He kept Blinking toward the gates.
"One hit for 100k?" Ash’s heart hammered. "The bastard must have a 130k attack stat. At least a Level 110 Master."
Then, the notifications started rolling in.
[You have killed Gareth Wren. Bounty: 5,000 Gold. Contribution: 1,500.]
[You have killed Holt Larkin. Bounty: 3,000 Gold. Agility +10.]
[You have killed Noel Crane...]
And then, the system voice changed. It sounded deeper, colder.
[Achievement Unlocked: Slayer of Men.]
[Players are now classified as Targets. You will now receive loot drops from player kills.]
Ash stared at the screen as the final names flashed.
[You killed Owen Larkin. XP +210,000. Gold +7,000. Gilded Gauntlets (Gold) dropped. Strength +5.]
[You killed Bryce Wren. XP +180,000. Gold +6,000. Gilded Chestplate (Gold) dropped.]
In one night, he’d cleared 65,000 gold and four pieces of Gold-Tier gear. The strongest Assassin had escaped, but the message was sent.
Ash looked at his blood-stained bow. The game had changed. He wasn't just defending himself anymore. In a world where men were mobs, Ash Valor was the ultimate hunter.