Chapter 136: Entering the Graveyard Again
After Zich left the cell, the door closed behind him once more. The lamps, bright enough to be almost blinding, continued to flood the entire room with light, stripping every corner, crack in the floor, and shadow beneath the furniture clean away, leaving almost nowhere that a shadow based class could use to their advantage.
For ordinary people, such a room would be little more than uncomfortable for the eyes. But for the two defeated players who relied on shadows to move, the environment itself felt like a long and silent form of torture.
The Iron Guard still stood watch outside the door. The massive black figure remained completely motionless, its dark greatsword hanging in front of it. A crimson glow shone through the gaps in its helmet, like an executioner that never needed rest. The two defeated failures had been staring at it for a long time, yet the longer they looked, the colder they felt inside.
After a long stretch of silence inside the room, the first to speak was the defeated player who had swallowed the Soul Stone before Zich forcibly extracted it from him. His face was still pale. His abdomen had been treated roughly, but every breath sent a tearing pain through the wound. Leaning against the wall, he asked hoarsely,
"That guy... what he said earlier... is he really planning to go to the hideout?"
The other defeated failure sat opposite him. His shattered shoulder made even the smallest movement difficult. After hearing the question, he remained silent for a moment before letting out a dry laugh.
"So what if he really wants to go? The failure hideout isn’t some place a newcomer can just walk into. He doesn’t know how many people are in there, and he has no idea what’s actually hidden inside."
"But he’s not like an ordinary newcomer," the Soul Stone player said quietly, his tone carrying a fear he did not want to admit even to himself.
When Zich had watched his body being torn apart by the Soul Stone’s power, there had been no sympathy in his eyes, only observation and calculation. That gaze had chilled him far more than the pain itself.
"No matter how unusual he is, it doesn’t matter," the other defeated player said through gritted teeth. "If he really dares move against the hideout, that’s the same as declaring war on the entire failure network. It won’t just be people in Ascension Mountain coming after him. There’ll be people watching him in the real world too. Unless he’s ready to throw away his entire player career, the most he’s doing is trying to scare us."
That was what he said.
But the atmosphere in the room did not become any lighter.
Both defeated players knew that Zich was not the kind of person who only talked tough. When he said he would charge a fee, he really started calculating debts. When he said he would find the hideout, there was a very real chance he would actually find a way to do it.
They hoped it was only a threat.
But deep down, they did not dare believe that completely.
...
Meanwhile, by the time Zich returned to the mansion’s main hall, his expression had already returned to normal.
He was neither angry because of the defeated players’ words nor eager to rush out immediately in search of the so called hideout. That would be too crude and offer no real benefit.
For the failure network to have existed on the First Layer for so long, it clearly could not be sustained by a few fools hiding underground.
They had to have a safe house, intelligence channels, and connections with guards, players, and merchants.
They might even have informants inside the Association and the market.
Zich did not know how large that web truly was.
But that did not affect his decision.
Since the web had already extended into his mansion, he could not simply wait for it to stretch toward more troublesome targets later, his parents, his secrets, the things he genuinely did not want touched.
Rather than waiting for them to probe him again and again, it was better to start cutting away the dangerous parts before the web became even more troublesome.
Zich sat down in his study and lightly tapped his fingers against the desk.
Everything on the table had already been reorganized thanks to Skeleton Butler. The Soul Stones, materials, boxes, and scrolls had all been returned to their proper places. Even the chair that had been slightly knocked out of position during the earlier fight had been straightened.
Only after confirming that everything had been restored to an acceptable state did he close his eyes.
It had been quite some time since he had properly inspected the Graveyard.
One thing after another had crashed into his life, leaving him almost no chance to stop and properly examine the foundation of his strength.
And his foundation had never been the mansion.
It was the Graveyard. It was perhaps the most important thing to him. Cut that off, and Zich would be no different from an ordinary player.
The next moment, familiar cold rain landed on his shoulders.
When Zich opened his eyes, he was already standing within that gloomy world.
Heavy black clouds still pressed down across the sky.
Rain continued to fall, striking the black soil and rows upon rows of gravestones with a quiet, delicate rhythm.
The place had grown far larger than when he first entered it.
The horizon was no longer an empty wasteland.
Instead, more and more gravestones filled the distance, standing in the rain like silent soldiers, recording every existence he had killed throughout his journey.
Zich stood there and watched for a while, feeling a genuine sense of pride.
...
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