"Are you Undying as well?" Lind furrowed his brow—the quickest trick left in his limited acting arsenal to feign confusion. "Where do you come from?"
"Wait, the NPC's asking about lore? What do we do?" The trio launched into discussion as if he were part of the scenery.
"Just be honest. I'm kinda curious how he'll react."
After a prolonged pause, the brawny man finally spoke: "From the northern ruins—a battleground where we resurrect after death. Unless..." He hesitated. "You'll let us rest at your bonfire? Set a respawn point here?"
Bonfire? Respawn? Could you players stop making up game mechanics?!
The terms were jarring, but he got the gist.
"I see." Lind released his grip on the sword hilt, pretending to understand.
Now it made sense: the northern ruins were their spawn zone, and he had silent "admin rights"—no obtrusive [Ding!] notifications, just seamless world logic.
Maybe later, he mused, I'll turn those ruins into a tutorial hub to shepherd players here.
Outwardly, he nodded solemnly: "Starcrest Outpost welcomes all Undying who share our will to save this world. In these dire times, we must stand united! You may stay... for now."
Not that I could stop them. They'd break in anyway—probably loot the armory while they're at it.
"Zina guy, this AI is unreal!" The male player at the back elbowed his female companion.
??
Guy?!
Lind's instincts flared. Hold on—does that mean...?!
His eyes darted to the female player.
Petite face, porcelain skin. Slender yet curvaceous, her frame nearly toppled the ridiculous physics of her outfit—white loincloth and a chest wrap that did nothing to contain her proportions. She'd probably jiggle like jelly when walking.
"And how should I address you?" Lind maintained his lordly (ahem, fake tutorial-village-chief) demeanor. "Names would help us... communicate."
The muscle-bound man spoke first: "Black Tortoise Shield!"
"?"
The woman chimed in: "Slaughter Moon Blade!"
"??" Lind's confusion deepened.
The last (and most normal-looking) man announced: "Dragon Scale Sword!"
Lind clenched his jaw. Perfect. He'd almost burst into song.
He was absolutely certain—the female Undying named "Slaughter Moon Blade" was a man in real life!
No more chatting. If this continues, I'll start singing along.
"Such... exotic names," Lind forced a smile, barely keeping his composure. His stiff expression made him seem almost unapproachable.
If this conversation drags on, I'll break character entirely. Time to deploy his ultimate NPC function: "The Frostfang Winter shrinks our lands. The howls of wolves steal our sleep. Now, my territory faces peril—might you lend your strength?"
The trio's eyes lit up. "Yes! Give us any quest—we'll take it!"
Firewood? Logging? Courier work? Bring it on!
"A pack of jackals lurks nearby," Lind said. "One of your Undying kin already hunts them. Join the purge—teach those vermin justice. For every five corpses returned, 20 gold coins await."
Slaughter Moon Blade clasped their hands. "But, Lord, we're unarmed!"
Here it comes. The classic free-gear gambit.
"You may each claim a weapon." Lind gestured to a soldier. "Leo, escort them to the armory."
"At once!" Leo saluted.
The three nearly sprinted to the "Weapon Shop", only to find:
Rusted armor missing chunks.
Blunt, cracked swords last polished when dragons still ruled.
As veteran gamers, they'd never been this poor. It was like starving for days, then stumbling into an all-you-can-eat buffet—even moldy bread looked appetizing.
Tragically, they could only pick one item each. After agonizing, they grabbed their "weapons."
Then, as predictably as respawning, they spotted the "Temporary Corpse Recycling" stall beside the shop—where jackal carcasses sold for 5 gold each.
"Profit!!!" they roared, charging out of Starcrest Outpost with newfound vigor.
"May the jackals be plentiful," Lind murmured, watching them go. He had zero doubts about players' combat prowess.
Thank the gods my coffers are deep.
Outside the Outpost
The trio marched on, buzzing with excitement.
Slaughter Moon Blade (a dude who'd definitely picked a female avatar) tossed their long hair—a habit from sharing a dorm with the other two. All three had won beta keys, sparking envy campus-wide.
This weekend was their grand gaming spree.
"That lord's gear was 100% a set!" Slaughter Moon Blade grumbled. "Why's the shop selling garbage? Even the grunt NPCs wear better stuff!"
Black Tortoise Shield flexed. "Faction gear, probably. Bet we can unlock it if we join. Did you see how those NPCs recoiled? Our rep's just too low."
Dragon Scale Sword nodded. "Right. The reputation system's probably hidden."
At least they had a quest now—no more wandering around like headless chickens.
"Zina guy," Dragon Scale Sword turned to Slaughter Moon Blade (the female-presenting Undying). "Didn't notice earlier, but your character's really well-designed."
"Mhm!" Black Tortoise Shield chimed in eagerly, then blurted: "So… any sensations? Heavy?"
"What the hell?!" Slaughter Moon Blade shuddered, suddenly hyperaware of the game's alarmingly precise tactile feedback. "Nope! Tried it right after character creation. This game's PG-13—you think your junk works down there?"
"Nah," both shrugged. "These loincloths are glued on. Guess we don't pee either."
"Peeing'd be way too hardcore," Slaughter Moon Blade snorted. "If stripping was allowed, half the server'd run around naked—"
They paused. Both friends were staring.
"Do I look like a pervert to you?!"
Black Tortoise Shield raised a brow. "You did pick a female avatar."
Dragon Scale Sword wiggled eyebrows. "C'mon, buddy… lemme just grab—"