– Actually… I need a space to leave a sculpture.
– Really? Then can it be a house with a large warehouse attached?
– Rather than a warehouse, I’d like you to build a house that isn’t shabby so it can be displayed in a room.
– That’s not hard, where are the sculptures?
– They’re at the Lord’s Castle. I will instruct the guards to allow you to enter the place where the sculptures are.
– Got it. I’ll go there tonight at around evening. We’ll decide on the request fee after I see the work.
– Thank you.
Around the time when Weed finished his conversation with Pavo, he received a whisper from a player named Hon.
– This is Hon of the underground prison expedition. The dungeon exploration is almost complete.
– Have you found the prisoners of the Matallost Church?
– Yes. We’ve found one for now, and the other prisoners are said to be in the vicinity.
– You’ve worked hard. I will also go there soon.
It was time for Weed to go to the underground prison for the quest.
* * *
The River of Lamentation basin that was connected to Morata by the movement portal! The second S-rank difficulty quest and the Rescue the Prisoners of the Matallost Church would take place there. When Weed returned to the River of Lamentation again with Yellowy, he could see people gathered in groups nearby.
“That person is Weed…”
“He’s the person called the God of War?”
“Shh! Talk quietly. He might hear, so be careful!”
They were people who had heard the news that Weed had stopped making sculptures and was leaving for the River of Lamentation from their friends in Morata and had been waiting in advance to look at him.
A considerable number of high leveled players in the North paid the toll fee and were hunting near the River of Lamentation. Considering its distance from Morata and the level of the monsters, it could be said that there was no better hunting ground. There were occasional cases where a party bravely ventured deep into the North, but instances where the entire party was annihilated from a slight mistake were numerous. Since help could be found from the surroundings at any time, the River of Lamentation was a fine hunting ground.
Weed looked around at the players with cold and frosty eyes. ‘There are lots of people.’
In Morata, he had been a simple Lord who had sold food and japtem, but he couldn’t be that way in the hunting ground, too. There were already quite a few figures who were staring at Weed with challenging eyes. If these high leveled players came at him all at once, then even Weed wouldn’t be able to avoid death. He was even more sensitive because he had ultimate Unique items like the Necromancer’s Magic Tome, Talrock’s Armor, Ancient Shield, and Kolderim’s Daemon Sword.
‘This isn’t Morata.’
In Morata, people couldn’t even dream of challenging Weed because of the Soldiers or Knights. If someone raised a sword at the Lord, then they would either be subjugated by the Soldiers or the Freya Church’s Knights would thoroughly destroy them. However, anything could happen in a hunting ground. He could meet murderers and even drop an item.
In order to not be looked down on, Weed feigned nonchalance as he looked at the people.
“Pieces of trash everywhere.”
“…”
The crowd was silent.
The Wargod Weed they had imagined— it was an arrogance befitting of the strongest player in the Continent of Magic.
“Did they wait here without hunting to look at me? Though there are monsters everywhere… tsk tsk.”
Weed tsked as he insulted them outright. Even people who had purchased food or sculptures from Weed in Morata couldn’t conceal their shock at his completely different attitude.
The thoughts that occurred to them then!
‘This might be the true Weed…’
‘Is he acting politely to beginners or individuals alone? We’re gathered in a group and he’s actually criticising us… he might be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’
There were over 200 high leveled players gathered here, yet he disdained them all outright. A player’s pride originally went sky high once they passed level 300. Their personal connections built from various places and the force they showed while hunting would become the object of envy. The number of players was immense because the Versailles Continent was expansive, but the higher you went up the ranks, the less players there were. A level 300 was at a level where they wouldn’t be disdained anywhere. At that position, they could join a prestigious guild and speak out some in a smaller to medium guild. The pride and ego of high level players was as high as a mountain, but there was no one here who would dare to interfere with Weed. They might attack him if they were alone, but it wasn’t a mood they could go forth in because the other people were staying put. Weed had dominated the atmosphere with a few composed words.
“How pathetic.”
“…”
The people couldn’t even say a single word in reply. At some point, it had become natural for Weed to speak like this. He was friendly in Morata, but he revealed his extremely arrogant nature before the gathered high level players. It was the might of the absolute strongest, something they had dreamed of since who knows when.
However, a few people harbored resentment towards the continuing disdain. Having become stronger while wandering the hunting grounds, their competitive spirit flared at Weed, who was acting like an almighty maverick. It would be an honor even if they died, and they felt like wanting to challenge him.
A subtle change in mood was flowing in the repressed crowd.