AESIR'S REVERT

Chapter 6: Predator or Prey?

With this power,  players causing trouble for sellers would be frozen and arrested right away. Even in Aesir's past experience, players wouldn't have risked causing trouble, even for something valuable like a legendary item—it wasn't worth it.

"Please line up and put your goods for sale, or you'll be arrested for bothering Faction-licensed sellers," she said with a smile.

Players were released from their spell, and they quietly lined up, looking ashamed and cautious, almost as if they had planned it themselves.

The trade went on for nearly six hours. More than half the player population in Amzion Crib Town had sold weapons, armor, and materials to Aesir and felt they had made a profit. Aesir chuckled but ignored taunts and jeers that he was wasting money like a fool.

He had spent over 300 gold so far, but his gains couldn't be measured by mere coins. This hurdle would likely be the easiest in his Faction Online career.

When fewer players came to his stall, he closed up and thanked everyone before leaving. A crowd had gathered to see if he would reveal his identity. Many asked about it, but he ignored them. Some invited him to join their guilds, but he declined, no matter how appealing they made it. Others lingered, hoping for more; Aesir's protection only extended to the marketplace.

If he left town to grind, he'd encounter a slew of players looking to rob him. Hadn't Aesir considered this before setting up his stall? He had many ways to avoid them, but he chose the most cunning route.

Aesir entered the Merchant's Faction to drop off his aide and leave her a hefty tip for her help. Normal players couldn't enter without a certain status, so they all realized Aesir was no ordinary player. Many hoping to profit from him gave up and left.

Only the most determined players remained, nodding to each other. Their consensus: rob him first, divide later. Thieves working in harmony was rare, but this was a special case.

These men waited outside the Faction for hours. Each time someone exited, they rushed to accost them, only to find NPCs or false alarms.

Hours passed. They grew irritable and impatient from the constant false alarms. Suddenly, a youthful figure emerged from the building, wearing a cloak that concealed his face, and hurried into an alley. The watchers sighed with relief and exchanged glances.

Finally, their long-awaited opportunity had arrived, and they wasted no time in seizing it. With calculated intent, they converged swiftly into the narrow alley, their footsteps echoing off the grimy walls as they surrounded their target. Beneath the hood of his cloak, a voice emerged that cut through the tension like a knife.

"What's the meaning of this?" The question, uttered calmly yet with an undertone of threat, hung heavily in the stale air.

The group of assailants exchanged knowing smirks, their confidence bolstered by the presence of Gunther—a burly figure who stepped forward as their de facto leader. "Listen up, empty your inventory, and this will end smoothly for you."

The cloaked figure stood unwavering, his gaze piercing through the darkness of the alley, sizing up each adversary with a cool detachment that belied the danger of the situation.

"You're trapped, buddy. Don't complicate things," Gunther pressed on, his voice tinged with impatience.

The victim scoffed incredulously, his demeanor defiant despite the odds stacked against him. "Do you honestly believe I would flaunt my wealth and stroll into a deserted alley without a plan? Did it not occur to you that this might be a trap? I'm not just any player; I have wealth, reputation, and allies within the city guard. The system itself favors me."

Aesir's interjection cut through the thieves like a sudden gust of icy wind, chilling their enthusiasm and sowing doubt among their ranks. Some hesitated, their earlier eagerness to loot overshadowed by the realization that they might have underestimated their target.

Maintaining his calm demeanor, Aesir observed the unfolding drama with the detachment of a spectator at a play. The assailants, including Gunther, fell into an uneasy silence, their bravado tempered by the sudden realization of their vulnerability. In the face of Aesir's composed confidence, they knew that reckless actions could lead to dire consequences.

Both sides stood in silence, eyeing each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. Tension hung thick in the air in the alleyway stare-down.

"Ah, I'm glad you all waited. Now I can send you off properly!" Aesir's voice broke through the tension, his tone oddly relieved.

"Huh?" Gunther's confusion mirrored on the faces of his cohorts as they struggled to decipher Aesir's cryptic remark. What did he mean by 'send them off properly'?

Underneath the hood of his cloak, a smirk slowly spread, sending a shiver down Gunther's spine.

"This isn't good! Scatter!" Gunther barked, turning to flee.

But before he could take more than a couple of hurried steps, his body seized up, frozen in place, and his vision blurred into grayness. The chilling words "You Are Dead" burned into his retinas.

"That was risky. Fortunately, thugs are always so predictable. They're such easy pawns to manipulate," Aesir remarked with a sneer, casually stowing away his second Goblinwerk bomb—a potent weapon acquired through special arrangements with the Merchant's Faction.

The alley fell into an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the faint echoes of footsteps as the remaining thieves scrambled to escape. Aesir watched them go with a calculating gaze, his mind already turning to the next move in his carefully orchestrated plan. The encounter had reaffirmed his belief in the power of strategy over brute force in Faction Online's unforgiving realm.

Hob-Goblin and Goblin items were highly valued tools in Faction Online, incorporating steampunk elements in a world dominated by swords and sorcery. Bombs and flintlock pistols were coveted, but access was restricted to the wealthy and influential. Otherwise, this world might have seen an industrial revolution by now.

Aesir sighed and gazed at the sky, contemplating his next moves. He needed to buy supplies before heading out of town to journey across the countryside. There was a shanty town about 20km away with an A-level Faction quest offering incredible rewards. Aesir had gathered these items specifically for that quest, finding a workaround despite lacking manpower.

He departed to prepare for his westward journey.

Unbeknownst to him, on a nearby rooftop concealed in tight leathers, Yuki-Ona watched silently. If Aesir had seen her, his heart would have stopped. She was the woman who had stolen his heart and shattered it, turning him from a lovesick boy into a heartless fiend.

Yuki-Ona stood at the periphery, her expression a canvas of conflicted emotions as she silently observed Aesir's departure. Part of her longed to approach him, perhaps to extend an apology or seek closure, while another part cautioned her to maintain her distance and uphold her vigilance.

Yet, these tumultuous feelings weren't solely Yuki-Ona's own. There existed a subtle undercurrent, a clandestine force at work in the shadows, manipulating the fabric of time itself. This mysterious entity had deftly woven a delicate thread, bridging Aesir's old timeline—gradually fading into obscurity due to the inevitability of change—with the current reality.

This ethereal thread served as a conduit, connecting a person from the future to another in the past. Through this ephemeral link flowed memories and emotions, remnants of an era destined to vanish once Aesir's actions inevitably reshaped the timeline once more.

As Yuki-Ona pondered these complexities, she sensed the weight of destiny pressing upon her. The intertwining of past and future, of regrets and hopes, imbued her with a profound sense of purpose. She knew that her role transcended mere observation; she was a silent sentinel, tasked with bearing witness to the fragile dance of fate unfolding before her.

With . She wondered if Aesir, in his quest for change and power, understood the far-reaching consequences of his actions. Would he grasp the significance of the threads that bound him not just to his present allies and adversaries, but also to the echoes of a timeline slipping inexorably away?

Lost in contemplation, Yuki-Ona remained at the crossroads of time, her thoughts swirling amidst the enigmatic tapestry of existence. As she stood there, a solitary figure amidst the ebb and flow of destiny, she silently resolved to navigate the currents of uncertainty with steadfast resolve.

"I must keep an eye on this man. For safety's sake… Yes, that's it…" Yuki-Ona murmured to herself, clutching her chest as an unfamiliar wave of discomfort washed over her.

It was emotional pain, something the usually indifferent Yuki-Ona struggled to understand.