Chapter 589 Skills Speak Louder Than Fame
Villain Ch 589. Skills Speak Louder Than Fame
A devilish grin curled on his lips, his thoughts swirling with a cunning scheme. The question loomed: Should he unleash the storm and tarnish Sophia's reputation? If he was a mere player, the decision would be a no-brainer; he'd hit the "destroy reputation" button without a second thought. After all, in the cutthroat gaming world, survival often demanded a proactive offense.
However, Hell's Gate wasn't just any game, and Allen wasn't a player. He was the devil emperor and for him, guild politics seemed trivial. The clash of players and guilds was a sideshow to his grand narrative, inconsequential to the devilish machinations he orchestrated.
A wicked idea flickered in Allen's mind. Instead of 'Al,' perhaps 'Azazel' would be the perfect agent to orchestrate Sophia's self-exposure. Exposing her deeds—how she could turn against her own guild—would sow doubt among prospective recruiters. It wasn't about ruining her reputation; it was about unveiling the complexities that lurked beneath the surface.
Allen observed Sophia, who was still the center of attention in the bustling crowd of players in Debaris City. He noted more players from various guilds approaching her, extending invitations to join their hunting sessions.
Sophia, however, executed her rejections with finesse because most of them were from non top-tier guilds. Allen could almost picture the smooth dialogue—her polite refusal, a hint of regret, and the classic "already promised to other hunts" excuse. It was the art of gracefully turning down offers while maintaining an air of popularity.
A wry smile played on Allen's lips. 'Well, enjoy your fame while you can,' he thought, shrugging.
Leaving Sophia in the midst of her burgeoning fame, Allen decided to search for a different kind of currency—information. This time, he had his sights set on the elusive top-tier guilds.
Allen's keen instincts led him to a group of players engaged in hushed discussions. It was the Celestial Vanguard guild, their avatars adorned with the insignia of seasoned warriors. With a casual air, he approached, engaging in a brief chat about their alternative plans for the impending war.
The irony struck him as he realized their proximity to the crowd enveloping Sophia. Despite the brewing buzz around her, the Celestial Vanguard higher-ups remained unfazed, their focus undeterred by the spectacle. It was a testament to the caliber of players within their ranks—steadfast, resolute, and unswayed by the allure of fame.
A smirk played on Allen's lips as he absorbed this nugget of intel. It reinforced the notion that guild dynamics weren't solely defined by numerical rankings. The Celestial Vanguard, while still trailing the Order of Valiance in the guild hierarchy, boasted a formidable cohort of members. Their approach spoke volumes—preferring internal development over the allure of poaching members from other guilds.
Red_King, the guild leader, held court, orchestrating the banter and discussions among the members. The air buzzed with light talk, interspersed with Red_King's eccentric directives. Most guilds reserved such discussions for their headquarters, but this impromptu meeting added an air of unpredictability to the scene. Yet, what truly captured Allen's attention was the spectacle that was Mastercraft, the guild's blacksmith.
Allen's jaw dropped in sheer disbelief. Mastercraft's gears outshone even Sophia's, radiating a shimmer that spoke volumes about his status as a Pay-to-Win player. Each piece was a testament to opulence and an unapologetic display of financial prowess. Even his pet, a beautiful lamia, exuded an aura of exclusivity that turned heads in its own right.
A mixture of awe and shock played across Allen's expression. 'He managed to snag one of those rare pets? How much money has he sunk into this game?' he pondered, cringing at the thought. Mastercraft, renowned for his lavish spending within the gaming community, was the epitome of a Pay-to-Win player.
Allen's attention shifted to Father^Alex, the priest whose presence contrasted sharply with the glitz and glamor of Sophia and Mastercraft. Father^Alex didn't boast the opulent sheen of Pay-to-Win gears or the attention-grabbing aesthetics of his counterparts. Instead, his gears emanated a different kind of allure—efficiency and healing prowess.
A wry smile played on his lips. Unlike Sophia, who reveled in the spotlight, or Mastercraft, the epitome of financial extravagance, Father^Alex embodied a different ethos. His gear spoke of a utilitarian philosophy, each piece meticulously selected for its effectiveness in the heat of battle. It was a subtle statement—a healer's silent promise of reliability when the arrows started flying.
'He should show off a little,' Allen mused, recognizing the indispensable role that healers like Father^Alex played in the intricate dance of guild warfare. While other players flexed their prowess across multiple guilds, Father^Alex remained steadfast in his allegiance.
'This type is the real deal,' Allen mused, a touch of admiration coloring his thoughts. It wasn't about the flashy gears or the flamboyant presence; it was about utility, reliability, and a commitment that transcended the fray.
With a nod of acknowledgment, Allen silently admitted the appeal of players like Father^Alex. After all, he'd been in the trenches with this type before, navigating the intricacies of his previous gaming world that often favored the dazzling over the dependable. There was a certain joy, a unique satisfaction, in working alongside those who prioritized substance over style.
After wandering the city for more than ten minutes, Allen found himself back at the familiar entrance of the Cursed Crypts. The spectral architecture loomed ominously, a gateway to the territories of the game villain. As he stepped into the dimly lit hall, the familiar figures of Shea, Zoe, Vivian, and Jane came into view. The echoes of their footfalls reverberated in the cavernous space.
With a nonchalant wave and simple 'Hi', Allen joined the group, and the atmosphere crackled with anticipation. They gathered in the hall, exchanging information that hinted at the shared thirst for discovery. The short investigative trip had yielded only fragments of information, scattered like breadcrumbs in the vastness of the game world.
The conversation unfolded seamlessly, a chorus of voices weaving through the air. Details emerged—clues, hints, and tidbits that formed a patchwork of insights. Yet, as expected, the bounty of information was meager, each morsel a puzzle piece waiting to find its place in the grand narrative.
The exchange lasted a mere five minutes before a unanimous decision rippled through the group—they would resume their investigation amidst their next hunt. This time, a new strategy emerged. Instead of aimless exploration like before they targeted certain materials from monsters to create their new gears, their path was clear—Black Castle.
Teleporting via the portal room, the oppressive ambiance of Black Castle's hall greeted Allen and his companions as they stepped into the cavernous expanse. The air was thick with an eerie stillness, broken only by the echoing footsteps of skeletal minions that patrolled the ruined castle. The walls bore the scars of a bygone era, their stone surfaces weathered and cracked, telling tales of a time when this stronghold thrived.
The flickering light of phantom torches cast shadows that danced across the uneven floor. Skeletons adorned in tattered armor clanked ominously, their hollow eye sockets staring vacantly at the intruders. Undead monsters, remnants of a spectral army, lurked in the dark corners, waiting to pounce on any unsuspecting player daring to venture too close.
The group navigated through the labyrinthine halls, their footsteps echoing in the cold space. Every turn revealed another layer of the castle's decrepit grandeur. Crumbled archways and shattered stained glass windows bore witness to the passage of time, each fracture a testament to the castle's gradual descent into decay.
However, this time, an unexpected element added a layer of complexity to their routine hunt. The hall teemed with players, forming a formidable congregation of high-level avatars. They moved in groups, clad in armor that bespoke countless battles. The hall had become a battleground where players vied for supremacy.
The clash of swords, the twang of bows, and the explosive spells of magic-wielding players melded into a cacophony of conflict. Allen's group found themselves not only contending with the undead horde but also facing off against players who wanted to defeat them.
Encounters became inevitable. The tension escalated with every step, the air crackling with a volatile mix of competition and danger. Foes lurked not only in the shadows but also among the players, each one of them was a potential adversary in this coliseum.
The villain group became unwitting magnets for competition. Their presence, like a beacon in the darkness, drew the attention of more high-level players seeking to test their mettle against the infamous devil emperor and his crew. The hall, once a solemn graveyard, transformed into a bustling arena of rivalry.
Yet, despite the influx of challengers, none proved worthy adversaries. Allen's group dispatched both monsters and players with a seamless dance of skill. However, the unintended consequence of their notoriety was evident—their presence fueled a cycle of challenge and retaliation, as more players flocked to Black Castle, eager to cross swords with the villains of Hell's Gate.
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