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Chapter 4: Young Lady, Sign This Contract of Indenture

Asker retrieved a Soul Contract from his bag. The terms were already written out. Peggy took it and scanned through the clauses. Most were standard teamwork stipulations, such as prohibiting either party from directly or indirectly harming the other. The final clause, however, caught her eye:

This contract is valid for five years. Party A (Asker) shall provide Party B (Peggy) with sufficient knowledge and training to achieve self-sufficiency. In return, Party B shall, without violating the aforementioned terms, obey Party A’s instructions. All spoils obtained through teamwork shall be distributed by Party A.

A typical apprentice mercenary agreement.

“So, you’ll teach me combat skills in exchange for my service?” Peggy inquired.

“Precisely,” Asker replied with a smile. “You possess rudimentary supernatural power, but you don’t know how to use it. I’ll teach you how to wield your strength effectively. In return, you work for me for a period. Perfectly reasonable, don’t you think?”

“Add a clause,” Peggy stated. “Help me get revenge. Kill those vampires in your house. With a deadline.”

Clearly, the girl still harbored distrust and suspicion. Asker didn’t mind.

In the grand scheme of the main storyline, a world war was only a few years away.

No matter how powerful a supernatural being, they would eventually fall to a sufficiently large and determined force.

Therefore, Asker had every reason to assemble a highly skilled and obedient combat team.

As for his future teammates, their initial trust was inconsequential. Once they tasted the fruits of their cooperation, their self-interest would bind them together.

“Very well,” Asker agreed, adding a line to the contract. “Within one week.”

Revenge within a week? Peggy’s heart leaped. She fought to suppress her excitement, her gaze fixed on Asker as he signed his name on the Soul Contract.

“There,” Asker said, handing the contract back to her. “Take a look.”

Peggy scrutinized the document once more, confirming the key terms: Asker would train her to control her powers, and in return, she would serve him for five years. Revenge was merely a bonus.

It wasn’t an unacceptable arrangement. If she had possessed supernatural powers that night, her parents might still be alive.

And now, as a vampire herself, without the means to protect herself, she could be discovered and executed by the Church at any moment.

With that in mind, Peggy signed her name at the bottom of the contract.

“Excellent. Now we’re partners in life and death,” Asker said, a triumphant glint in his eyes. He could sense an invisible bond forming between them, a testament to the Soul Contract’s power.

“Don’t forget about my revenge, Mr. Asker,” Peggy said coldly.

“No need for formalities. Just call me Asker.” He unbuckled the short sword from his belt. “This is for you.”

“A weapon?” Peggy accepted the sword.

“Some vampires believe their claws and spells are their greatest weapons,” Asker explained. “They’re wrong. Until you reach level 5, a good weapon is essential. Do you know why you couldn’t land a single blow on me earlier?”

“Why?” Peggy asked.

“Because my reach is longer than yours,” Asker stated matter-of-factly. “My sword could reach you before you could reach me.”

“In that case, wouldn’t a longer weapon be even better?” Peggy reasoned. “Like a longsword or a spear?”

“If we’re talking about range, why not a sniper rifle?” Asker chuckled. “The greater the range of a weapon, the more vulnerable it is at close quarters. That’s the trade-off.”

“For agile vampires like yourself, short swords and daggers are ideal. Your speed compensates for the lack of reach. Daggers are all about offense, while short swords offer a better balance.”

“You’re newly turned, still unfamiliar with your powers,” Asker continued. “Supernatural power must be honed through practice, converted into physical or mental strength. Since vampires are creatures of the night and don’t require sleep, your training begins tonight.”

“Run to the other side of the cemetery, cut down a branch from the bushes beyond the fence with your short sword, bring it back here, and keep the fire going all night. That’s your first task.”

“What about you?” Peggy asked. “Will you be watching?”

“Of course not,” Asker replied. “I’m human. I need my sleep.”

He removed his dried gambeson and mail hauberk, found a flat spot near the fire, and lay down, using his armor as a makeshift blanket.

Peggy stared at him in silence. Then, she turned and walked out of the cottage, short sword in hand.

Running beneath the moonlight was a novel experience for Peggy. A well-behaved girl, she had never ventured out after seven in the evening.

Now, as a vampire, she found herself strangely at ease in the darkness. A primal urge stirred within her.

A thirst for blood, a hunger for the hunt.

She reached the edge of the cemetery. Beyond the fence lay a thicket of withered bushes. With a burst of speed, she vaulted over the fence and swung her short sword at the nearest bush.

The blade met with resistance, the bush bending but not breaking.

Peggy paused, examining the situation. Her sword wasn’t sharp enough, and the bush was too resilient. Simply hacking at it wouldn’t work.

She grabbed a branch with her free hand and sawed at the base with her short sword. Once it snapped, she sprinted back towards the cottage.

Bursting through the door, she was alarmed to find the fire had dwindled significantly. Without anyone to tend to it, the firewood had almost burned out. She tossed the branch onto the embers and sprinted back towards the cemetery.

After several trips, Peggy began to understand Asker’s training regimen. She could only carry one branch at a time, and the fire consumed wood quickly. She had to minimize her travel time, pushing her speed to the limit.

Stopping to cut the branches was inefficient. She started grabbing branches mid-sprint, her short sword positioned to slice through the base, utilizing her momentum to sever the branch without even breaking stride.

Upon returning to the cottage, she no longer ran all the way to the fire. She would toss the branch from a distance, shaving off precious seconds.

After over a hundred trips, Peggy felt a change in her body. Her legs were stronger, her balance more stable as she navigated the uneven terrain. Her reflexes had sharpened, allowing her to snatch branches and swing her sword with greater precision.

The vampire essence coursing through her veins, the vast reservoir of supernatural power, was steadily enhancing her physical capabilities.

She was getting stronger, and it was exhilarating.

Dawn arrived.

Asker sat up, his shoulders stiff and sore from sleeping on the hard ground.

He opened his eyes and looked towards the fire in the center of the cottage.

The flames had died down considerably but hadn’t vanished entirely. A few branches still crackled within the embers. A gust of wind swept through the open door as another branch landed on the fire. Peggy stood at the entrance, her expression unreadable.

“You’re awake,” she stated.

“Indeed.” Asker rose and donned his armor, securing his sword and pistols.

His mouth felt like a desert. He longed for a toothbrush.

“Training going well?” he asked. “It’s time we left this place.”

“During my training…” Peggy hesitated. “I felt… urges. A bloodlust. An impulse to tear and rend. Is something wrong with me?”

“The Flesh I trait carries traces of primal instincts,” Asker explained dismissively. “Absorbing it can sometimes affect your consciousness. However, you’re only level 1. The side effects should be minimal. I imagine you can suppress those urges with a little focus?”

“Yes,” Peggy confirmed.

“Good.” Asker stepped out of the cottage.

They descended the hill, leaving the cemetery behind. Asker purchased a black hooded cloak from a nearby clothing store, replacing Peggy’s burial shroud and concealing her features. He didn’t want anyone mistaking her for a resurrected corpse.

Their next stop was the blacksmith’s shop near Asker’s former workplace.

“Shopkeeper.” Asker strode into the shop, gesturing towards the cloaked figure behind him. “A suit of mail for this young lady. Full-steel rings, flexible enough for a full range of motion.”

“And a layer of padded leather armor underneath. Properly tanned, with articulated joints for agility, reinforced shoulders for weight distribution, and three layers of linen padding.”

“Of course, Master Achilles.” The shopkeeper bowed deeply, recognizing a lucrative customer when he saw one. “However, a full suit of mail will require custom work. It’ll take at least a month.”

“Five days,” Asker countered. “I’ll pay you 50 pounds. Source the rings from the factories across the Golden Horn. Hire additional blacksmiths to help with the assembly. I’ll return for it in five days. Here’s 20 pounds as a down payment.”

The shopkeeper’s mind raced, calculating a potential profit of 5 to 15 pounds. He readily agreed. “No problem, Master Achilles! Helga! Helga, you old bat! Get your lazy behind out here and take this fine lady’s measurements!”

“Nordric! Get your scrawny hide to the factories across the Golden Horn! Order 15,000 mail rings! And if you’re not back by five, you can kiss your dinner goodbye!”

The shopkeeper’s frantic commands sent the entire shop into a frenzy. Soon, a timid woman emerged, ushering Peggy into a back room for measurements. Asker waited outside, watching the bustling street. A while later, Peggy emerged, clad in leather armor.

“I got a mask, since you mentioned not wanting to be recognized,” Peggy said, lowering her hood to reveal a simple black mask, the kind worn by tragic actors in ancient Syris plays.

“Excellent.” Asker nodded in approval. “Now, let’s take care of your revenge.”

They arrived at the district where Asker’s family mansion stood and checked into a hotel, securing a room on the fifth floor. From their window, they had a clear view of the street leading to the mansion’s entrance.

“Are you planning to snipe them from here?” Peggy asked, gesturing towards the distant mansion.

“No.” Asker shook his head. “This room is for you. So you can watch your enemies die.”

“Oh.” Peggy blinked, understanding dawning on her. She was still too weak to participate. Asker would handle the vampires himself, while she observed from a safe distance.

Leaving Peggy in the room, Asker hurried out of the hotel and back towards the Hagia Sophia. He entered the grand cathedral, his steps purposeful.

“I have a confession,” he announced, his voice echoing through the vast hall, reaching the bishop standing at the pulpit.

Chapter 3: The Girl Who Crawled Out of the Grave

Cold.

So cold.

Peggy, her eyes forever sealed shut, lay in the cramped coffin, her consciousness slowly returning. A searing pain engulfed her, like thousands of caterpillars burrowing beneath her skin, an unbearable itch that consumed her.

Father, dead.

Mother, dead.

Their home, burned to ashes.

And she…

Vivid memories of her final moments flooded her mind.

The murderer’s fangs sank into her neck. She struggled, screamed, but couldn’t break free.

Her cries had awakened her parents. They rushed in to check on her.

Then, the murderer’s claws slashed her father’s throat, pierced her mother’s chest.

She turned, blood still staining her lips. It was Lisette, the maid from the Achilles family. Peggy had even greeted her at the door on her way to school.

Then, Lisette set the room ablaze, engulfing everything in a fiery inferno…

Pain, so much pain.

Peggy let out a hoarse cry from within the coffin, a sound as harsh and grating as a crow’s caw, filled with the anguish, despair, and hatred of death.

With a final surge of strength, she pushed against the coffin lid, a hand bursting through the earth, welcoming the cool night air.

“Hmm?” Asker, perched on the tombstone, turned his head. She’s awake already? I thought it would take until after midnight…

Peggy pulled herself out of the grave, her body covered in dirt and fallen leaves. She was a seventeen-year-old girl of Armenian descent, her jet-black hair cascading down her back, two braids framing her face.

Her features were a striking blend of East and West, with the sharp, defined contours of Western features and the smooth, porcelain skin typical of the East. She was, without a doubt, a beautiful NPC.

No wonder she had caught the eye of a passing player in her previous life when she was wandering the streets.

The scabs from the fire that had ravaged her body before death flaked off like shedding skin, revealing the smooth, unblemished flesh beneath. She gasped for breath, her hands gripping the edge of the grave as she pulled the rest of her body free.

Then, she saw Asker, sitting casually on her tombstone.

“Back from the dead,” Asker remarked, clapping his hands together. “A cause for celebration.”

“Achilles!” Rage erupted within Peggy like a volcano. She launched herself at Asker, her right hand morphing into a claw, aiming to tear him to shreds.

She would make this murderer pay!

But a flash of cold steel met her charge, sending her flying backward.

Mountain Splitter.

As Peggy lunged, Asker had already leaped off the tombstone, his swords held high above his head.

It was a military sword technique from the Holy Solomon Empire. The swordsman raised both swords above their head and brought them down in a powerful cleave. If it connected, the fight was essentially over.

However, Peggy was no ordinary girl. She staggered to her feet, a gruesome wound stretching from her left shoulder to her lower right abdomen, her ribs and internal organs visible through the gash.

Instinct, born from the Flesh I trait, surged through her. She directed her body’s power to the wound, the flesh knitting itself back together at an alarming rate. Within moments, the wound had vanished, leaving behind unblemished skin.

“Impressive,” Asker commented, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Such a potent ability meant Peggy could be more than just a damage dealer. In a pinch, she could even serve as a tank, absorbing damage. She would be a valuable asset to his team.

Peggy charged again, this time abandoning a direct approach. With a burst of speed, she circled around, aiming for Asker’s unguarded back.

Another flash of steel, and she was sent flying once more, a deep gash appearing on her head.

“Let me teach you something,” Asker said, already turned to face her, his sword resting casually on his shoulder. “When attempting a flanking maneuver, your eyes shouldn’t dart around. Keep your gaze fixed on mine, pretend you’re about to attack head-on. Masking your intentions is crucial.”

“It was you!” Peggy gasped, collapsing to the ground, her body working to heal the wound on her face. The strain of regeneration was taking its toll, her energy depleted, her consciousness fading. “Achilles! You killed my parents, didn’t you?!”

“I did not,” Asker stated plainly.

Peggy froze, her expression hardening.

After their brief exchange, she knew she was no match for him.

She couldn’t fathom how this once-carefree young nobleman had transformed into such a formidable swordsman. But if he could kill her with ease, there was no reason for him to lie.

“It was your maid, Lisette,” Peggy said, each word heavy with accusation.

“Indeed. But she was not acting on my orders.” Asker elaborated, “In truth, they only answer to the current mistress of my house. And she… is a vampire.”

Peggy’s body trembled, the pieces finally clicking into place.

“You’re not…?” she asked tentatively.

“I am not,” Asker confirmed. “But you are.”

“I’m… I’m…” Peggy stared at her hands, her face pale as death. “A vampire.”

The summer thunderstorm arrived with a vengeance, unleashing a torrent of rain.

Asker stood amidst the downpour, his sword still drawn, watching as the girl before him crumpled to the ground, her body wracked with sobs.

Her cries of anguish were swallowed by the howling wind and rain, unheard and unseen.

The rain intensified, showing no signs of abating.

Asker sighed and walked over to Peggy, scooping her up in his arms. She didn’t resist, her body limp, like a discarded rag doll.

The cemetery was situated on a hill, and at its peak stood a dilapidated cottage, occasionally used by the gravedigger as shelter. Asker approached the cottage and knocked.

No answer.

He pushed the door open and, in a dark corner, found some leftover firewood from the last time it had been occupied. He started a fire. Peggy lay beside the crackling flames, her eyes vacant, seemingly devoid of all thought and emotion.

“Becoming a vampire isn’t all bad,” Asker said, removing his soaked gambeson and attempting to dry it by the fire. “Look on the bright side. Your appearance is now locked at the tender age of eighteen. Forever young, how enviable. Plus, no need to eat, drink, or even breathe. Just a regular intake of blood, and you’re good to go. Haha, other women bleed monthly, you drink blood monthly.”

“I’m a monster,” Peggy mumbled, her voice flat and lifeless.

“What’s wrong with being a monster?” Asker countered. “Only the ugly ones are considered monsters. The beautiful ones… they’re called ‘monster girls.’”

“Is there even a difference?” Peggy laughed mirthlessly.

“Of course there is.” Asker poked at the fire, sending sparks flying. “Have you heard of the Magic Tide?”

Peggy remained silent.

“When the Magic Tide arrives, chaos will engulf the land, and heroes will rise,” Asker continued, his voice taking on a dramatic tone. “We are currently at the cusp of the Magic Tide. The level cap for supernatural beings has been raised to 5, and knowledge of hidden bloodlines will soon be revealed. You might not understand what I’m talking about, so let me give you an example. You know about the Second Triumvirate of the Solomonic Republic at the end of the Third Era, right? Octavian chose the Dragon Bloodline, Mark Antony chose the Devil Bloodline, and Lepidus, a human purist, refused to embrace any supernatural lineage.”

“Lepidus was the first to fall. In the end, Octavian emerged victorious from the civil war, crowning himself the first Emperor of the Solomonic Empire. This event marked a pivotal moment in history, the transition from Republic to Empire.” Asker continued, “By his later years, Octavian’s human blood had been completely consumed by the Dragon Bloodline. When he died, his supernatural power surged out of control, unable to maintain his human form. His true form, a colossal dragon spanning nearly twenty meters, was revealed. It took forty knights in powered armor to remove his massive corpse from the palace.”

“Weren’t people terrified?” Peggy asked, her gaze fixed on the flames.

“Not at all,” Asker explained. “The Solomon Church didn’t exist back then. Under the old polytheistic beliefs, people took pride in their family’s supernatural lineage. In fact, after Octavian’s death, his dragon corpse was enshrined in the Solomonic Pantheon and worshipped as the Dragon God, Caesar Augustus. From then on, all Roman Emperors adopted the name ‘Augustus,’ believing it carried the Dragon God’s power, granting them dominion over their subjects and the world.”

Peggy hugged her knees to her chest, her expression uncertain. Asker’s words had partially assuaged her fears, but a primal terror lingered. “Were there… vampire bloodlines in history?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Asker replied. “Vlad III, the Voivode of Transylvania, followed the path of the Blood Clan. I believe he reached level 4. Transylvania was a devout follower of the Solomon faith, yet he faced no persecution. You see, Transylvania, along with the Kingdom of Hungary, served as part of the Church’s eastern defenses against nomadic tribes migrating from Siberia.”

“Hmm…” Peggy felt overwhelmed. Having never ventured beyond Constantinople, she knew nothing of the world beyond the Eastern Solomon Empire. However, Asker’s words offered a glimmer of hope. The vampire bloodline wasn’t inherently terrifying; it was merely one among countless supernatural lineages.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked softly, the firelight casting flickering shadows across her face.

“Because we share a common goal,” Asker replied. “You seek revenge for your family, don’t you?”

“I do,” Peggy said, her grip tightening on her burial shroud. The rough texture brought her back to the present moment. “What about you? What do you want?”

“To kill my entire family,” Asker said casually, tossing another log onto the fire.

Peggy’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Asker chuckled. “That woman already killed my parents. My butler and servants have all been turned into vampires. They’re still holed up in my ancestral home. I’m not particularly attached to the place, but it’s my inheritance. I won’t let those bloodsuckers have it.”

“I understand,” Peggy whispered. “We have a common enemy.”

“Precisely,” Asker agreed. “In the short term, your enemies are the vampires who murdered your family. But in the long run, the Church, the Night Watch, and the monster hunters will be your true adversaries. Without sufficient power, your existence as a vampire will be short-lived. Once they discover you, they will hunt you down and kill you.”

“You possess the Flesh I trait, Peggy. You have a head start over most people in this city, myself included. What you lack now is the training to convert your supernatural power into physical strength and the experience to wield it effectively. I can teach you, but it won’t be free. You’ll need to sign a Soul Contract.”

Chapter 2: Bankrupting Myself for Gear (2)

The Hagia Sophia, the largest church in Constantinople and the headquarters of the Imperial Orthodox Church, was surrounded by numerous shops, almost all of which were Church-owned and operated by deacons. Asker found one specializing in alchemical goods and stepped inside, rapping his knuckles lightly on the counter.

“Greetings, customer.” Behind the counter, a deacon in a black robe nodded slightly. “What can I do for you?”

“I have two shops I wish to sell to the Church,” Asker stated.

“Ah, you must be Asker from the Achilles family.” The deacon recognized him.

After all, before Asker’s parents disappeared, they made substantial annual donations to the Church. The deacon was quite familiar with the young master of the Achilles family. “You intend to sell both shops your parents left you?”

“Yes,” Asker confirmed. “Give me an offer.”

“I’m familiar with both properties. They’re both highly profitable businesses.” The deacon elaborated, “For the apothecary on Teodosia Avenue, I can offer 700 pounds. As for the tavern near the Marina Tower, considering the recent downturn in the restaurant industry, I can offer 550 pounds…”

“However, I must advise you, Master Achilles, these properties were your parents’ legacy. They provide a stable monthly income of around 10 pounds. If you’re simply facing a temporary financial shortage, you can apply for a mortgage from the Imperial Bank. There’s no need to sell them outright.”

“I understand your concern,” Asker lied, “but I’m returning to my hometown to get married. I won’t have the time to manage these properties or collect rent, so I’d prefer to liquidate them.”

The deacon frowned. Returning home to get married? Wasn’t Asker a native of Constantinople? But judging by his fully-armed appearance, marriage was likely a fabrication. Venturing out on an adventure seemed more plausible.

Ultimately, it was Asker’s own business. The deacon couldn’t interfere with his plans. He turned and retrieved a standard real estate transaction contract from a box on the shelf, placing it on the counter.

“In that case, please fill in the names of the properties you wish to sell and sign your name at the bottom. Once we’ve verified the details of your properties, we can finalize the transfer and provide you with the payment.”

Dealing with private buyers would have been a logistical nightmare. They would have demanded lawyers to review contracts, identity verification, property deed inspections, and the Church’s presence for notarization. The entire process could easily drag on for a day or two.

This was precisely why Asker chose to sell directly to the Church: convenience.

After Asker signed the contract, the deacon fed both copies into a fax machine and invited him to have a seat.

About half an hour later, the deacon returned after finishing a phone call. “We’ve verified your properties, and the transfer is complete. Would you prefer a direct bank transfer or cash?”

“Cash, please,” Asker replied.

The deacon produced a stack of banknotes, counted them meticulously, and handed them over.

Asker accepted the money but didn’t immediately stow it away. Instead, he asked, “Do you have blank Soul Contract templates? I’ll take two.”

“Soul Contracts?” The deacon was taken aback. “What do you need those for?”

“Returning home to get married. Signing a fidelity agreement with my wife,” Asker fabricated smoothly.

“Ah, I see.” The deacon thought to himself, Leave it to the nobility to have such… arrangements.

Soul Contracts were oaths bound by supernatural forces, directly affecting one’s mental body.

For example, a couple could write into a Soul Contract a vow of absolute fidelity after marriage. Once signed, their minds would develop an intense aversion to infidelity. Any attempt to break the vow would inevitably result in a mental breakdown.

However, Soul Contracts were incredibly expensive, typically costing around 100 pounds each. They were beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Even wealthy nobles rarely indulged in such extravagant purchases. They were primarily used for political marriages, as a “fidelity agreement,” as Asker had put it. The underlying reason was the fear of their spouse’s infidelity tarnishing their reputation, not necessarily a lack of trust.

Having just received 1250 pounds, Asker parted with 200 without a hint of hesitation. He carefully stored the two Soul Contracts and asked with a smile, “Since we’ve conducted such a significant transaction, how about throwing in a handgun as a bonus?”

“A handgun?” The deacon was starting to believe the marriage story. Just how little trust do you have in your future wife?

A fidelity agreement wasn’t enough? He needed a handgun too? Was he planning to shoot a cheating lover or his wife?

“Of course.” The deacon chose his words carefully. “According to our policy, for transactions exceeding 50 pounds, I’m authorized to offer a 5% discount. For 10 pounds, you could purchase a semi-automatic rifle. However, you’d need a permit for automatic weapons.”

“I don’t have a permit. A handgun will suffice,” Asker said. “Do you have any particularly powerful handguns? Preferably large caliber, with good armor penetration.”

“In that case, I highly recommend the Desert Eagle.” The deacon produced a black case from beneath the counter. “It’s a .50 caliber. With specialized heavy hunting rounds, its muzzle energy exceeds 10,000 joules. It could even take down a Titan. To be honest, we primarily sell these to the Kalmar Empire in the north. They use them to hunt Frost Giants.”

He opened the case, revealing a silver revolver and a row of gleaming .50 caliber bullets, each as long as an adult’s palm.

“Excellent.” Asker nodded in approval. “I’ll take it. But do you have any rapid-fire automatic pistols? Preferably with a silencer?”

“You must be referring to the Aphrodite.” The deacon retrieved another box from a nearby shelf. “As the name suggests, it’s a specialty of the Syris Province, known for its compact size and rapid fire.”

“God as my witness, I must be honest with you. This pistol was initially designed for noblewomen in the Empire. However, it gained popularity among mages after its release due to its minimal recoil, making it suitable for women and even children.”

“If a single pistol can provide adequate self-defense, why bother hiring expensive mage guards? Of course, I recommend purchasing this as a secondary weapon to complement your Desert Eagle.”

“I’ll take both then,” Asker decided. “How much?”

“11 pounds,” the deacon replied. “7 for the Desert Eagle, 4 for the Aphrodite. I apologize, but I can’t waive the remaining 1 pound as it’s already factored into the discount.”

“Here’s 20 pounds.” Asker handed over a banknote. “Exchange the rest for Identification Aura scrolls.”

“Identification Aura scrolls?” The deacon chuckled. “A wise choice. After all, if the adulterer possesses supernatural powers, even the Desert Eagle might not guarantee a kill… Ah, forgive my presumption. I was lost in thought and misspoke.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Asker assured him. “There’s no adulterer.”

“I understand. It’s your wife, then? Supernaturally gifted spouses are a leading cause of domestic violence. These pistols are a worthwhile investment.” The deacon coughed, retrieving two boxes from the shelf. “Allow me to offer you two boxes of ammunition as an apology for my earlier slip of the tongue. One box of .50 caliber hunting rounds and another of 9mm standard rounds.”

“You’re too kind. Apology accepted.” Asker took the two pistols, packed the scrolls and ammunition, made the sign of the cross with the deacon, and departed.

“Ah, love…” The deacon sighed, gazing at Asker’s retreating figure. He envisioned a young nobleman, once wealthy and promising, reduced to a trembling husband, constantly threatened and abused by his superpowered wife.

“Now that’s more like it.” Passing by a shop, Asker examined his reflection in the window. Clad in armor, armed with a sword and two pistols at his hip, he looked every bit the part of a fully-equipped adventurer. He had regained that familiar feeling of being a player at full strength.

In the early stages of the game, firearms were far superior to swords. However, as NPCs leveled up and their stats increased, ordinary firearms would become less effective.

After all, the power of a bullet depended on the explosion of gunpowder, its muzzle velocity constant. As enemies developed greater physical resistance, the lethality of bullets would diminish.

Swords, on the other hand, scaled with the user’s strength, their killing power increasing alongside their wielder’s might.

This body… does it resemble my previous life? Asker scrutinized his reflection. Apart from the slightly deep-set eyes, high cheekbones, and overall Western features, the basic structure of his face bore a striking resemblance to his former self.

After all, the Solomonic people in the game also had dark hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin. At least in terms of coloring, they weren’t that different from his people in his past life.

Perhaps it was a combination of soul and body transmigration that resulted in this mixed-race appearance?

Or maybe he was just a brain in a vat, hooked up to a virtual reality simulation like in “The Matrix” or “Sword Art Online”?

And the programmers, in their laziness, simply copied his appearance, made a few tweaks, and pasted it onto his character?

Asker shook his head, banishing these unanswerable questions from his mind.

He glanced at his equipment again, lost in thought. Although this body was currently level 0 and weakened from blood loss, his strength, agility, and endurance were surprisingly higher than those of an average adult male. He couldn’t explain it. Now, thanks to his transmigration, the vampire’s hold on this body had been broken. Moreover, “Fire and Iron” wasn’t a game that solely relied on stats. Tactical awareness and combat skills were equally crucial.

In his current state, Asker was 100% confident in his ability to eliminate all those unsuspecting vampires back at the mansion.

But it wasn’t time yet. He needed to find Peggy first.

Dusk settled over the cemetery.

“…May the flames that consumed her flesh not touch her soul. May she find peace in the Lord’s embrace. Amen,” the priest concluded the funeral service.

“Amen,” the mourners echoed in unison. They were all neighbors from the same district.

Asker tossed the last shovelful of earth onto the coffin. According to Imperial custom, the closest relative should be the one to do the honors. However, Peggy’s entire family had perished in the fire, so Asker had volunteered.

The grieving neighbors sighed in relief. In truth, with his imposing armor, sword, and pistols, no one dared to challenge him for the shovel.

As the priest and neighbors departed, Asker settled onto the freshly erected tombstone, stifling a yawn.

“Seems like rain’s coming.” He inhaled the humid air, glancing at the darkening sky, heavy with clouds.

In the world of “Fire and Iron,” levels and attributes were two separate systems. Attributes stemmed from supernatural power, obtainable through slaying monsters, consuming ethereal substances, or performing rituals. Incidentally, the in-game term for experience points, EXP, stood for “Ethereal Xeno Power.”

Once acquired, this supernatural power could be converted into two primary attributes through training or combat.

The first was Stamina, which enhanced physical strength, control, endurance, and reaction speed.

The second was Magicka, which boosted intelligence and willpower. These two attributes determined a character’s “hardware” capabilities in combat.

Levels, on the other hand, were a different system altogether. All players and human NPCs began at level 0 and could only level up by consuming specific substances.

In the magically advanced Eastern Solomon Empire, this substance came in the form of Bloodline Elixirs. In the now-fallen Western Solomon Empire, which had adhered to traditional human technology, the Solomon Church provided Gene Modification Serums.

Essentially, both methods involved integrating ethereal substances into the body, triggering mutations and granting special abilities.

If attribute increases represented quantitative improvements to combat prowess, then level increases were qualitative leaps.

Peggy, now a vampire, naturally possessed her first supernatural trait: Flesh I.

Her level had already risen to 1, granting her significant boosts to strength, control, endurance, and reaction speed. She also gained enhanced regeneration, rendering all but her heart and brain non-vital areas.

In the early stages of the game, having such a companion would be an invaluable asset to Asker, their combined strength far exceeding the sum of their parts.

Chapter 1: Bankrupting Myself for Gear (1)

By now, the bodies of the family of three next door should have been transported to the nearby cemetery, prepared for burial at dusk.

According to the original game’s plot, Peggy wouldn’t claw her way out of her grave until late at night. So Asker wasn’t in a hurry. Now that he had transmigrated into this clueless NPC’s body (conveniently interrupting the vampire’s mental manipulation), his first priority was to sever all existing social ties. He had to move before those bloodsuckers realized something was amiss and came looking for him.

This world’s technological advancement was a chaotic and unbalanced affair. Major cities boasted satellites, mobile phones, cars, and subways, while remote villages still relied on drawing water from wells. Developed regions had embraced digital currency and stock exchanges, while underdeveloped areas clung to gold, silver, copper coins, and even bartering.

Cold steel coexisted with firearms, technology intertwined with the supernatural – a world of peculiar juxtapositions.

Constantinople, where Asker found himself, was one of the most advanced cities in this world, boasting comprehensive public facilities.

He took the subway to the district high school and strolled into the classroom where he was scheduled to teach.

The tuition fees for this high school were quite high, and the students were mostly children of middle-class families. As a result, the classroom maintained a semblance of order. As soon as the teacher entered, the students fell silent.

Asker stepped onto the podium, and the students opened their textbooks, ready to take notes.

“Close your textbooks. No need for notes today,” Asker announced. “Your assignment for today is to choose a topic from this semester’s syllabus and write a paper on it.”

His gaze swept across the classroom. “Once you’ve chosen your topic, head to the library, gather your materials, and submit your history papers by the end of the week. The next few days are yours for self-study.”

The students erupted in cheers. They might not have a clue about writing papers, but self-study meant freedom! Basking in their enthusiastic farewell, Asker sauntered out of the classroom and headed towards the principal’s office.

The office door was ajar, and he could see the principal seated behind his desk, engrossed in a newspaper. Asker pushed the door open and stated bluntly, “Principal, I’m resigning.”

The principal looked up, recognizing the teacher tendering his resignation as the young master of the Achilles family. It was no secret that their history teacher was a wealthy nobleman who didn’t need the meager salary. The principal simply nodded, making no attempt to persuade him otherwise. “Very well. However, would it be possible for you to stay on for another week, Asker? Just until the school finds a replacement history teacher?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Asker replied. “I’ve already assigned the students a week’s worth of work. They’ll be spending their history classes in the library, preparing their papers.”

The principal chuckled wryly. “I see you’ve made up your mind. So, are you planning to return to managing your family’s business?”

Asker shook his head with a smile. “No. I plan to sell my shops and assemble an expedition team.”

“Sell?” The principal was taken aback.

He knew that the Achilles family owned two shops in Constantinople, each worth hundreds of pounds.

The pound referred to the Solomon pound, originally a unit of weight that had evolved into the primary currency of the Eastern Solomon Empire. One pound was equivalent to one ancient Sulderus gold coin. Based on the game’s exchange rate, one gold coin was roughly equivalent to ten thousand in his previous life’s currency.

By that calculation, Asker was currently a multi-millionaire, and debt-free at that.

Selling all his assets to form an expedition team? That was like someone in his previous life selling their properties in Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou to become a mercenary abroad. It was pure madness!

However, it was considered taboo to pry into someone’s personal affairs, so the principal refrained from commenting. He merely asked with a smile, “If you’re planning to sell your family’s shops, I happen to know a few wealthy individuals who might be interested. Are you planning to go through an intermediary or an auction house?”

“I plan to sell them to the Church,” Asker stated directly.

The Orthodox Church in Constantinople was notoriously wealthy. They didn’t haggle or lowball. And when it came to prime real estate in the capital, there were few competitors who could match their purchasing power. The principal immediately understood and abandoned any thoughts of connecting Asker with potential buyers. With a sigh, he processed Asker’s resignation.

Resignation complete, the next step was naturally to gather equipment and arm himself.

As a professional esports player and former hardcore gamer, Asker was intimately familiar with various strategies for rapid level progression in the early stages of the game.

What weapons to use, what armor to wear, which quests to accept, which dungeons to tackle – he had a clear and meticulous plan. There would be no hesitation or missteps.

He left the school and made his way to a nearby weapons shop. “I need to buy a sword.”

“Master Achilles wishes to purchase a sword?” The shopkeeper recognized him as the young master of the Achilles family, knowing he was loaded. He immediately envisioned selling him one of the shop’s most expensive pieces – a diamond-encrusted, ornately-decorated ceremonial sword designed for nobles. “You have excellent taste, sir. We have all kinds of swords here. We recently received a shipment of high-quality goods, said to be precious relics from the ancient High Elf Empire. Perhaps you’d be interested…”

“What materials are they made of?” Asker asked calmly. “If you have anything made of meteoric iron, enchanted copper, mithril, adamantine, celestial glass, polar ice, blood-forged steel, chaos stone, or dragonbone, I’ll take them all.”

The shopkeeper nearly choked on his own saliva upon hearing those material names. He forced a smile. “Master Achilles, you jest! My humble shop could never acquire such rare materials. Meteoric iron and enchanted copper, perhaps, with some effort and connections in the black market. But mithril and adamantine are strictly controlled by the Imperial Army. Celestial glass and polar ice are priceless treasures, rarely seen anywhere on the continent. My shop wouldn’t dare dream of possessing such things!”

“As for blood-forged steel, chaos stone, and dragonbone… those are the stuff of legends, materials for mythical artifacts! They don’t exist in reality.”

“If you don’t have any of these materials, how dare you boast about having everything?” Asker said, shaking his head. “Forget it. Just show me the best materials you have. And spare me the fancy decorations.”

“Of course, of course.” The shopkeeper chuckled inwardly. “Currently, we have longswords crafted from iron and steel. Our highest grade is Damascus cloud-patterned steel, forged using the Church’s most advanced chrome plating and austenitizing techniques. The quality is absolutely top-notch…”

“What about the blade types?” Asker interrupted the shopkeeper’s self-promotion.

“We have the military-standard Spathion cavalry swords, as well as the Eastern-style Paramere single-edged curved swords,” the shopkeeper eagerly explained. “Of course, if you find those lacking in stopping power, we also have imported Western bastard swords. They have thick spines and a heavy pommel. One swing can easily cleave through a man’s neck…”

“I’ll take the single-edged curved sword,” Asker decided. “And a shortsword as well. The ancient Solomonic Iberian type, with a sharpened blade. Don’t try to pawn off any fancy but useless antiques on me.”

“I also need a mail hauberk, with at least three layers of linen padding. And a gambeson over that. No flashy colors, just common dyes.”

“Right away, sir!” The shopkeeper hurriedly instructed his assistant to fetch the requested items. “Are you being recognized by the court, Master Achilles? Are you joining the Royal Guard? Just yesterday, a guardsman placed an order here, and his equipment choices were quite similar to yours. Though he did purchase an additional mace, for dealing with heavily armored opponents. Perhaps you’d like…”

“No need,” Asker interjected. “For armor penetration, firearms are more efficient.”

“Indeed, indeed.” The shopkeeper readily agreed, thinking to himself, Firearms are expensive! A simple handgun costs at least two or three pounds, plus ammunition. It’s much cheaper and easier to just bash someone’s head in with a mace.

Soon, the assistant returned with the requested items. The shopkeeper helped Asker into the mail hauberk and then the gambeson. Thus attired, Asker cut a rather imposing figure.

He fastened the shortsword to the buckle on his left hip and hefted the steel-forged single-edged curved sword in his right hand, swinging it experimentally. The blade sliced through the air with a low whistle.

“Not bad.” Asker was quite satisfied with the sword.

The shopkeeper swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling a chill down his spine. The way this young master handled the sword… it reminded him of a few veteran soldiers he had served last year. The kind who killed without hesitation. Just standing near them sent shivers down his spine, triggering a primal urge to flee.

“So, the mail hauberk is 5 pounds, the gambeson is 1 pound, and the two swords come to 0.3 pounds. Consider it a discount, and we’ll round it down,” the shopkeeper said cautiously.

“Very well.” Asker pulled out his coin purse and counted out the payment.

He turned and left the shop. The shopkeeper watched him go, feeling an inexplicable sense of relief, as if he had just narrowly escaped a disaster.

…

Q: After transmigrating into a game world, should I prioritize grinding levels or earning money through quests?

A: You should prioritize buying equipment… You can’t very well fight monsters with your bare hands, can you? In this hardcore combat-oriented world, wielding a weapon makes all the difference.

Volume 1: The Dragon’s Fall, The Empire’s Twilight

Chapter 0: Transmigration and Mission Background

Standing amidst the bustling crowds of Constantinople, he found himself lost in a daze.

Had he transmigrated? Or was he trapped within a game, unable to log out?

“Solomon: A Song of Fire and Iron” was a globally popular fantasy RPG, a full-sensory virtual reality experience. He, a professional esports player of the game, had somehow materialized within its world.

This world was an almost perfect replica of the one in “Fire and Iron.”

The only difference was the absence of players.

And without players, all player-related facilities vanished as well – things like login areas, safe zones, and resurrection points.

Which meant, if he died in this world…

He might actually be dead.

His current NPC body belonged to Asker Leppius Achilles, a nobleman from the imperial capital of Constantinople. His profession: a high school history teacher at a local academy for nobles.

Thanks to a generous inheritance, his family was quite wealthy, making him a genuine trust fund kid.

Then, he was hypnotized by a female vampire, his mind ensnared. Within a few short months, his parents were murdered, his family fortune seized. The entire household staff – the butler, the maids, the footmen, over a dozen people in total – were all transformed into vampires.

He alone was kept alive, his blood a daily offering to the den of vampires. Had his original body not been so robust, he would have perished long ago.

One night, the vampire mistress decided to expand their hunting grounds, dispatching a maid to turn their next-door neighbors.

The neighbors were a family of three: a couple and their young daughter. During the embrace, the vampire maid encountered unexpected resistance from the daughter, alerting the parents. In a panic, she silenced the couple and set the house ablaze before fleeing.

The fire was quickly extinguished by Constantinople’s fire brigade. Enraged that the flames had almost reached her own mansion, the vampire mistress executed the maid.

Unbeknownst to all, the neighbors’ young daughter, Peggy, had already been turned. The fire hadn’t completely consumed her.

That very night, she crawled out of her grave and wandered the streets. A few days later, she encountered a player and offered a quest for vengeance.

The player, belonging to a guild, immediately reported the encounter.

The guild leaders decided to inform the Church, hoping to leverage their power against the vampires while also reaping rewards and reputation.

The Church swiftly dispatched a squad of Ironclad Paladins. Together with the guild players, they eradicated the entire vampire nest.

Asker, considered an ordinary human under a vampire’s influence, was spared by both the Church and the players.

With the quest complete, the Church awarded Asker’s mansion to the player guild as a reward for reporting the vampire threat. This guild became the first to establish a base in Constantinople, attracting a large influx of players.

The entire ordeal, documented and shared on the game’s forums, caused a sensation among players. Constantinople was soon swarming with guilds, all searching for traces of vampires, werewolves, and witches.

As for the unfortunate Asker, stripped of his family, his wealth, and his sanity, he became a beggar on the streets. Every day, countless players would approach him, probing, harassing:

“Do you know any other vampires?”

“Didn’t your wife have any siblings?”

“You’re a vampire yourself, aren’t you?”

Under this constant barrage of painful reminders, the NPC finally snapped, losing his mind completely. He met his end as collateral damage in a street gang fight.

That was the tragic fate of his predecessor in the game. But this time, things would be different.

This world had no players. Peggy’s quest would go unanswered. The Church wouldn’t discover the vampires anytime soon.

Most importantly, he, a professional esports player intimately familiar with the game’s mechanics and storylines, would not sit idly by and await his doom…

“A Song of Fire and Iron,” the best RPG of 2077, unfolded on a planet steeped in a magical, pseudo-medieval history. It depicted an epic saga of war and conquest, fueled by the ambitions and conflicts of various nations. The game drew inspiration from various sources: the power dynamics of Warhammer (where melee clashed with gunpowder), the cosmic horror of Lovecraftian lore (where power often led to madness), the unforgiving combat of the Souls series (where even a high-level character could be felled by a single blow), and the addictive open-world design of The Elder Scrolls (a world of swords, sorcery, and, of course, romance). It was a bizarre Frankensteinian creation, yet it somehow managed to capture the hearts of gamers worldwide, winning accolades at both Gamescom and E3, and securing the top spot on Steam’s best-selling charts.