"Ahem… sorry, I lost myself."
Only after Black reminded her did Karina stop—her face slightly flushed with embarrassment as she patted her cheeks.
She bowed to Black and hurried away.
Truthfully, Black already knew all this.
The game had plenty of lore on Alice's character.
If he had to describe her?
A clumsy, stubborn, un-cute little girl.
Clumsy—because she practiced swordsmanship without insight or innovation.
She only followed the manuals—dooming herself to stagnation.
Stubborn—because she desperately craved recognition, valued pride too much—leading to her isolated, spoiled personality.
When you can't surpass someone—just lie flat.
Some geniuses are walls you'll never climb.
Couldn't she learn from the Third Princess? A little cute act—and she'd win affection?
But no—she had to be a stubborn mule.
As a villainess, Alice had only one fate in both good and bad endings: death.
Now that he thought about it—it was because she so desperately wanted her mother's approval that Jiaye manipulated her—leading to her death at Jörmungandr's hands.
While playing, Black had pitied her.
Because anyone who's studied knows—the tragedy isn't the top student or the bottom.
It's those who study day and night, yet see no progress.
Those mocked when grades are posted—"fake effort," "dumber than me"—how pitiful.
And since Alice was fated to die, Black had never cared much about her.
Even as her personal guard—unless he slipped up, she couldn't touch him.
Now—his priority was sabotaging the Dragonblood Council!
Black glanced at the sky—estimated the time.
Thinking of what he'd do next—a grin spread across his face.
Soon, he was nearly cackling.
"Hehehe… Dragonblood Council—I'm coming!"
If you're spies on the Hodir—then I'll become a spy within your spy ring!
Let's play a thrilling game of Werewolf!
****
That night—moon bright, stars few.
The Hodir had fallen into silence.
Most were asleep.
But Mr. Black—dressed in black, wearing his bat mask—slipped into the shadows.
The Hodir, one of Cassel Continent's largest ships, displaced nearly 100,000 tons—a true leviathan.
Its size rivaled Earth's aircraft carriers and luxury liners.
With twenty decks: upper for combat, middle for living quarters, lower for engine and storage.
Black's target? The storage hold.
More precisely—to meet the Dragonblood Council.
Of course, he couldn't fight their elites.
So—join them.
His plan? Infiltrate as a double agent—sabotage from within.
Sounds impossible? For Black—it wasn't.
In the game, the Dragonblood Council operated extremely cautiously—using coded messages to communicate.
For maximum secrecy, even they didn't know who else was sent by the leadership.
They used codenames and signals to verify identities.
As a player—Black had god's-eye view.
He knew their codes, codenames, signals.
Becoming a double agent? Child's play.
But becoming an agent wasn't his true goal.
His real aim? Steal the Council's treasure: [Dragonfang Blade].
[Dragonfang Blade]—a 6-star weapon, one of the Council's Three Sacred Treasures.
Forged from the broken fang of the Dragon King, Demon Dragon, hammered by an Emperor-Tier Alchemist.
Sharp enough to cut through anything in existence.
The blade carried a lethal poison—once poisoned, the Final Execution effect triggers:
Ignores level/status—removes 10% of max HP!
Even an Emperor-Tier master—if reduced to 10% health—would die instantly if stabbed by a Level 10 weakling wielding this blade!
Just how broken was this weapon?!
Players bid over a million yuan for it—pay-to-win exclusive!
Essential for level-skipping kills!
Of course—you still need to hit an Emperor-Tier target to trigger the poison.
Anyway—this 6-star weapon was now in the Council's hands.
They brought out such a divine artifact—only to assassinate Empress Elizabeth.
They waited—for the moment Elizabeth and Jörmungandr weakened each other—then strike.
Use the Dragonfang Blade to finish her.
So—to ensure the good ending, Black had to steal the blade!
This would cripple the Council's power!
Plus—with this blade, Black—the Level 10 weakling—would finally have a trump card.
No more having swords pressed to his neck!
With that, Black descended the stairs to the storage hold.
Taking the elevator was faster—but too noticeable.
He had to appear like a cautious, careful spy.
Entering the storage corridor—darkness.
Empty. Silent.
Perfect for spies to exchange intel.
The storage hold usually closed after midnight—no one came here.
Thud. Thud.
His footsteps echoed—heavy, oppressive.
Occasional water drips added eerie tension.
Black felt tense.
His plan was based on the game.
Facing the real Dragonblood Council—would they immediately expose him?
After five minutes, Black stopped at a corridor turn.
His lantern barely lit one meter ahead—too dark to see farther.
Yet—Black suddenly spoke:
"Long live the Dragon Race."
A forbidden phrase—echoing in the narrow passage.
Before him—only darkness.
He seemed to speak to empty air.
But the moment the sound faded—something moved in the dark!
A ghost-like figure appeared before Black.
Had he not expected it—he'd have jumped.
The intruder wore black, masked—only cold eyes visible.
"Long live the Dragon Race."
The figure echoed back.
Then, he scanned Black from head to toe. Finding nothing suspicious, he asked:
"Your codename?"
"Yellow Dragon."
Black replied flatly—devoid of emotion.
"Greetings, Mr. Yellow Dragon. My codename is Purple Dragon."
Upon hearing "Yellow Dragon," the masked man—Purple Dragon—became noticeably more respectful.
Clearly, Yellow Dragon was a higher rank than Purple Dragon.
Black gave a slight nod and said:
"I'm here for the handover."
Hearing this, Purple Dragon looked surprised—frowning slightly.
"But… the handover isn't due for another thirty minutes. You're far too early."
"Are you telling me how to do my job?"
Black's expression turned stern—his tone sharp, offended.
"I would never dare!"
Purple Dragon looked terrified—afraid of angering someone above him.
"Recent events on this ship are chaotic. An Emperor-Tier Assassin suddenly appeared and attacked the empress. The royal family and Dragoncleaver Guards are now extremely alert—suspecting more infiltrators within."
"To ensure our handover goes perfectly, I came early."
After delivering his pre-prepared excuse, Black ignored Purple Dragon and walked forward.
He knew—Purple Dragon wouldn't dare stop him.
"Yes… truly wise of you, sir."
Purple Dragon exhaled deeply as Black disappeared into the darkness.
Good thing I didn't offend him—otherwise, the consequences would've been dire.
In the Dragonblood Council, rank was determined by strength.
Insulting a superior? Severe punishment.
He was just a Level 51 High-Tier Sorcerer.
But Yellow Dragon? A Level 60 Assassin—untouchable.
Black also knew the Council confirmed identities through coded signals, not perception-based power checks.
That's why he dared to impersonate.
After passing Purple Dragon, he soon met another—codenamed Blue Dragon.
"Second passphrase?"
"We are all descendants of the Dragon Race."
"Codename?"
"Yellow Dragon."
After explaining his purpose, Blue Dragon raised doubts—but ultimately stayed silent, respecting the rank gap.
Passed the second checkpoint—then the third: Green Dragon.
"Sir, the third passphrase?"
"When the Dragon Kings return, you shall all die."
…
Smoothly passed again—exactly as Black predicted.
Can't blame them for being careless.
Who could've imagined someone knew their secret codes and codenames?
The Dragonblood Council's secrecy was legendary.
Every operative in this mission had a [Thousand-Gold Oath] spell cast upon them by the leadership.
Break your vow—leak secrets—and your heart would explode, blood pouring from seven orifices.
A high-tier, cruel spell.
So even if they suspected betrayal—they'd never believe the secrets were leaked.
That's why Black had the confidence to face them directly.
After leaving Green Dragon, Black walked further—until a small, unremarkable room appeared at the corridor's end.
Inside—the Dragonfang Blade.
As one of the Council's Three Sacred Treasures, its storage protocol was extremely strict.
Beyond the three guards outside—the blade was guarded inside by Red Dragon.
Seven leaders were sent for this mission:
Black, White, Yellow, Red, Green, Blue, Purple Dragon.
Rank determined by order—highest to lowest.
To prevent theft, the Council set a storage rule:
The Dragonfang Blade rotated among the top three ranks—Black, White, Yellow Dragon—every three days.
During handover gaps—it was stored in the cargo hold, guarded by the other four.
If anyone stole it? The rest would unite to kill them.
A brilliant system—if not for Black.
Black took a deep breath—pushed the door open.
The room was narrow, covered in dust. On the table—a golden chest.
Surely, that held the Dragonfang Blade.
Black shifted his gaze to the woman standing beside it.
She wore a black bodysuit—accentuating her slim, curvy figure.
With each breath, her chest rose and fell gently.
The woman was startled by Black's arrival—instantly alert.
After exchanging codenames, Red Dragon clearly doubted him.
"Mr. Yellow Dragon—you're very early, aren't you?"
Red Dragon's rank was close to Yellow Dragon's—her attitude far less respectful than the others.
"In these turbulent times, I consulted with Black and White Dragon. We agreed to move up the handover."
Black adjusted his excuse. This woman—Red Dragon—was harder to fool.
"So now, I'll take custody of the Dragonfang Blade."
"But Black and White Dragon haven't informed me of this."
Red Dragon frowned—her voice full of suspicion.
"Extreme circumstances demand flexibility. The royal family and Dragoncleaver Guards are conducting widespread searches. We might be exposed at any moment."
"The Dragonfang Blade is sacred—it must not fall into enemy hands!"
Black's heart pounded—but his voice didn't waver, sounding convincing.
Hearing this, Red Dragon fell into thought. She knew the chaos on the Hodir—knew this was a critical time.
Yet… something felt off.
Her instincts screamed—don't hand over the blade so easily.
"Apologies, Mr. Yellow Dragon. Let me first confirm with Black Dragon."
Red Dragon raised her hand—about to cast a spell to contact others.
But Black grabbed her wrist—stopping her mid-cast.
"You—!"
Just as Red Dragon believed he was definitely suspicious—
Black leaned close—whispered in her ear:
"Praise the Dragon Race."
Those words froze Red Dragon—her eyes wide, staring at Black in shock.
"Praise the Dragon Race" wasn't a regular code.
It was a high-level council secret—known only to elite members.
Among the seven leaders, only Black Dragon and she knew it.
Black Dragon knew because the leadership told him—as mission leader, he had the right.
Red Dragon knew because of her noble status—daughter of a high-ranking official.
By Council law—anyone who knew this phrase could unconditionally command all regional branches, even mobilize resources.
Thus—only the highest echelons knew it.
Yellow Dragon couldn't possibly know this!
Yet before Red Dragon stood an undeniable fact:
Yellow Dragon knew the secret phrase.
That meant—someone told him.
On this ship, besides her—who else could've revealed it?
Only Black Dragon.
If Black Dragon had shared this sacred code—then he trusted Yellow Dragon completely.
Thus, Yellow Dragon's earlier words? Highly credible.
After a long hesitation, Red Dragon handed the chest to Black.
"Since it's the decision of all three leaders—I have no objections."
"Thank you."
Black nodded, carefully wrapped the chest, and turned to leave.
Red Dragon watched his retreating back—a lingering unease in her heart.
"Tonight… Yellow Dragon's voice and posture felt… different."
"But Yellow Dragon is a master of disguise. Maybe he used some technique to alter them?"
...
Black moved swiftly—the night had gone far smoother than expected!
With his intelligence advantage, the Dragonblood Council couldn't dare suspect him.
Now that he had the Dragonfang Blade, their conspiracy was half-ruined.
Reaching the stairs after exiting the corridor, Black nearly collided with someone!
Looking up—the man wore the same attire.
Clearly, another member of the Dragonblood Council.
Instantly, Black understood.
This was the real Yellow Dragon—the one he'd impersonated.
He'd come thirty minutes early, stealing the blade ahead of schedule.
Now—the official handover time had arrived.
Meeting the real Yellow Dragon here? Not unexpected.
Yellow Dragon didn't suspect him—assuming he was just another Council member.
At this hour, only their own would be here.
"You are?"
"Purple Dragon."
"Oh. It's you."
"Sir, I have matters to attend to—excuse me."
"Go ahead."
Yellow Dragon replied without hesitation.
As Black left, Yellow Dragon continued forward.
Tonight was his turn to receive custody of the Dragonfang Blade.
But when Yellow Dragon reached the corridor's bend and spoke the passphrase—
The guard answered: "Purple Dragon."
Purple Dragon, confused—why did Yellow Dragon return so soon?
Before he could speak, Yellow Dragon grabbed his throat, enraged.
"Are you mocking me?! I just saw Purple Dragon at the staircase!"
"S-sir! I don't know what's happening! But I am Purple Dragon!"
"I even know tonight's passphrase!"
When Purple Dragon accurately recited the passphrase, Yellow Dragon's face turned grave!
His instincts screamed—disaster is near!
...
"Huff… huff…"
After fooling the real Yellow Dragon, Black raced out of the storage hold.
Only when he returned to the living quarters did he relax.
Finding an empty room, he pulled out the chest.
Opening it—a short blade lay inside.
About 30 cm long, covered in black patterns, radiating a deep, eerie darkness.
Not ordinary darkness—this was unnatural, chilling.
Black's first thought? This thing feels like a cursed relic.
Like something worshipped in a heretical church.
"Hss…"
Staring at the blade too long made his head dizzy.
Strange visions flooded his mind.
Bodies. Blood. Dragons. Skeletons.
A battlefield.
And nameless horrors—eyes floating in the air.
But these eyes spoke—their voices like ancient god-whispers, echoing in his ears.
They were tempting him—urging him to do unspeakable things.
"Slap!"
Black slapped himself hard—breaking free from the illusion.
He quickly closed the chest—cutting off the blade's sinister aura.
"Tch. No wonder it came from the Final Boss Demon Dragon—it can corrupt the mind!"
Black shivered. From the vision, he'd seen the giant black dragon.
Soaring through the heavens—breathing a titanic wave of black fire upon a small nation!
This flame—indescribably powerful, unimaginably vast.
To the people, it was an apocalyptic disaster.
The black fire rained down—engulfing the entire country—turning it into a living hell.
Forests became ash. Rivers evaporated. Mountains crumbled.
Humans touched by the fire—flesh dissolving, souls disintegrating.
When the soul vanished—flesh stopped dissolving.
A human became a walking corpse!
True undead—not mere zombies.
This wasn't normal fire—it carried a curse.
It turned humans into horrific creatures—Black Corpses.
No souls. Only hunger. Biting anyone they saw.
Those bitten? Infected—turned into more Black Corpses.
Black's final vision—countless such creatures wandering the earth.
This was the Demon Dragon's absolute power.
One breath—wiped out a prosperous nation.
No wonder humanity feared dragons so much.
"Experiencing such horror firsthand… far scarier than any game cutscene."
Black took a deep, cold breath—realizing he was drenched in sweat.
What he'd seen? Recorded in the game's lore.
The destroyed nation? Muyuan Kingdom—a remote, peaceful land on Cassel Continent.
Small population. Livestock-based. Far from war.
Then—the Demon Dragon descended—erasing it.
Half its people—cursed by black fire, transformed into Black Corpses.
Their behavior? Nearly identical to zombies—likely inspired by game designers.
The Muyuan arc was a major side quest—mandatory for players.
"Good thing I'm not the protagonist. Facing those zombie-things directly? Too terrifying!"
For the first time, Black felt grateful he wasn't the main character.
These Black Corpses—and the Demon Dragon—were for Jiaye, the fate-blessed protagonist.
His duty? Only ensure the prologue ends well—defeat Jörmungandr.
Now—with this blade—he finally had a trump card against emergencies.
An item that ignores level gaps—instant kill on enemies below 10% HP.
The Dragonfang Blade was truly a 6-star weapon.
Beyond that—against peers? Invincible.
Any wound from this blade? The poison seals your fate.
As long as the power gap wasn't too extreme, leveling up to defeat stronger foes wasn't impossible.
That's why the Dragonfang Blade was one of the Dragonblood Council's Three Sacred Treasures.
They planned to rely on this very weapon—to assassinate Empress Elizabeth in one strike.
But alas—their dream would be shattered.
And…
A smirk curled on Black's lips.
He hadn't just stolen the blade—he'd framed Yellow Dragon, sowing chaos within the Council!
Especially for Yellow Dragon—even if he survived, he'd be gravely wounded.
After all—how could anyone outside the Council know so many codes?
The Dragonfang Blade was a sacred treasure.
Its sudden disappearance demanded a scapegoat.
Even if Yellow Dragon proved his innocence—he'd still face punishment.
Then—Black would personally end him with the Dragonfang Blade!
This was his second phase.
Once Yellow Dragon fell, the Council's plot would collapse.
Feeling one step closer to his dream—returning to his village, marrying the village beauty—Black smiled, closed his eyes, and slept.
Everything was going smoothly…
"Grumble."
Well, except for being a bit hungry—everything was fine…
"GRUMBLE!"
Damn it! So hungry!
Black suddenly remembered—he hadn't eaten all day!
That damn old hen Mary! If she didn't let him eat, she'd be the first victim of the Dragonfang Blade!
And so, Mr. Black drifted into dreams—weighted by exhaustion… and hunger.
In his dream, he returned to his past life—drinking cola, playing games, eating fried chicken, with a sweet girlfriend in black stockings teasing him.
"Hehe… black stockings…"
But when he woke—what he was hugging wasn't his girlfriend's slender leg in stockings…
It was Mary's thick, rough thigh.
Realizing the wrong texture—this leg was way too muscular—Black jolted awake, leaping from the bed.
"Got you! Sun's already high—your ass is roasted!"
"As Princess Alice's personal guard, you're not at her side—sleeping in like a lazy dog?!"
And so, the Hodir erupted again—just like every other morning.
For the next few days, Black followed Princess Alice everywhere.
Almost attached to her.
Practicing swordplay. Handling official duties. Patrolling the ship.
Black didn't understand—his presence changed nothing. Alice could do it all alone.
When handling paperwork, Alice wrote furiously—Black's only role? Handing her a pen.
Mostly, he just stood there, zoning out.
Yet Alice insisted on keeping him close.
Sure, her stunning face and slim figure were pleasing to the eye—but even beauty gets boring.
Unless she lets you kiss, touch…
Of course, impossible. Black wanted to keep his head.
Sometimes, Alice casually asked:
Where do you live? What does your family do? How many are in your household?
Clearly, she still suspected him.
Black answered flawlessly—no slip-ups.
But suspicion lingered.
These days with Alice weren't entirely fruitless.
From observation, Black reached a conclusion:
Alice was a self-discipline fanatic!
Even students from Hengshui High School would salute her!
4:00 AM—wake up, practice sword.
8:00 AM—handle daily affairs.
12:00 PM—lunch break.
2:00 PM—read books.
6:00 PM—patrol.
8:00 PM—more sword training.
12:00 AM—sleep.
Meals? Exactly ten minutes. Not a second longer. No second helpings—no matter how delicious.
She was the queen of grinding. Who could compete?
Poor Black ended each day with massive dark circles.
When he occasionally met Elaina or Krystin—they gave him sympathetic looks.
All assumed he was being abused by Alice.
Still, these tough days had some benefits.
At least—Black discovered a hidden potential in his body.
During sparring sessions, he noticed his physical stats rapidly rising.
At first, he couldn't even see Alice's strikes.
Now—he could gradually track her movements.
Sometimes, he even predicted her attacks—blocking them successfully.
Energy surged through his mind, his eyes.
His perception was rising.
Black slowly realized—this was Spirit Energy, which he'd long ignored.
In the game, it was just a mechanic.
Now—he truly felt it.
An indescribable, wondrous sensation!
He recalled a line from a Chinese animation he once watched:
"Is the body merely a prison for the soul?"
On Earth, no matter how strong the soul—flesh remained weak.
One bullet could kill.
But here—everything changed.
The soul reshaped flesh through Spirit Energy—humans transcended biological limits!
With each sparring session, a strange feeling grew.
He seemed to be returning to his player state.
This sensation intensified when facing near-death!
Until one day—it peaked.
Whoosh!
As Alice swung her sword again—Black unconsciously triggered something.
At that moment—a faintly glowing system interface appeared.
Text floated before him:
[You have entered Flow State.]
Black felt himself enter a wondrous state.
Now, he wasn't just Black.
He was back at a computer—a player holding a controller.
Through the controller—he controlled his body.
Alice's sword movements became slow, slow.
He could even see the vibrations of a fly's wings five meters away.
Instantly, his mind—that of a top-tier player—flooded with dozens of combat strategies:
Dodge. Block. Counter. Deflect. Interrupt. Skill activation…
Just press the button—and he could precisely control every micro-movement:
Arm rotation, leg extension speed, bone flexion angle…
Spirit Energy surged through his body!
It felt like—press a few buttons, chain skills together—and unleash power.
Like an RPG combo:
Normal Attack x3 → Grapple → Momentum Build → Energy Burst.
Exactly like a game combo.
Sadly—this state lasted less than three seconds.
When he snapped back—Alice's sword was already at his neck.
He lost—again.
Since then, Black had been searching for the trigger to that wondrous state.
But no luck. It seemed purely random.
"No… this isn't something an ordinary person can achieve. It's not even about Spirit Energy."
Yet deep down, Black felt—this state was his cheat code.
His hidden advantage.
In the game's lore? There was no such thing as a "Flow State."
More importantly—when he entered it, he didn't feel like just Black.
He felt like a player.
A top-tier RPG gamer.
This state boosted all his combat abilities—giving him a slim chance of survival.
But after repeated attempts during sparring—all failed. He had to give up.
Still, the effort wasn't wasted.
Black discovered a new system function!
It was an ordinary morning.
Alone in the training ground, he swung at the air—trying to trigger that Flow State.
By accident, he swung too hard—the sword flew from his hand—hitting the wooden dummy.
At that moment—the blue game interface popped up:
[Player used Slash Attack.]
[Swordsman Class Unlock Progress: 1/10,000]
No other explanation.
Seeing this, Black's eyes widened—a bold guess forming.
He took a deep breath, picked up the sword—slammed it into the dummy again.
[Player used Slash Attack.]
[Swordsman Class Unlock Progress: 2/10,000]
Exactly as expected!
His theory was right—this was a class unlock system.
Keep slashing until the counter hits 10,000—and the class unlocks.
To test it, Black began obsessive practice.
For nearly three days, he ate nothing, drank nothing—just chopped at the dummy with relentless fury.
He broke multiple swords!
Other trainees—Alice, Dragoncleaver Guards—were shocked by his madness.
No one understood why.
Then one night—when Black saw the counter read 9,999—his eyes sharpened.
One final swing!
Clang!
The sword shattered.
But the blue panel appeared:
[Swordsman Class Unlock Progress: 10,000/10,000]
[Unlock complete. Swordsman Class officially unlocked.]
[Multi-Class Function unlocked.]
[Current Class Status:]
[Pirate: Unlocked]
[Swordsman: Unlocked]
[Warrior: 1/10,000]
[Knight: 1/10,000]
[Sorcerer: 1/10,000]
[Priest: 1/10,000]
…
All twelve classes were listed!
Black couldn't believe his eyes—he nearly wept at the words "Multi-Class Function unlocked."
The heavens have mercy!
Finally—my true cheat code has arrived!
After brief excitement, he opened the [Profession] menu—sure enough, [Swordsman] was now there.
Clicking it—a list of skills appeared:
[Slash], [Double Strike], [Thrust], [Power Cut], [Whirlwind Slash]…
His eyes dazzled. All Novice Swordsman skills.
So now—he was truly a swordsman!
Next, Black studied the [Multi-Class Function]—drawing conclusions.
As the name suggested—it let him hold multiple classes simultaneously!
Like now—he was both Pirate and Swordsman!
Though both drew from Spirit Energy, and some skills overlapped—
Class-exclusive skills couldn't cross over!
A Swordsman could never use [Never Returns Empty-Handed Fisherman].
A Pirate could never use [Ten Thousand Swords Return].
But Black—with both classes—could do both.
In the world of Dragonblood? This was absurd!
Imagine—once he unlocks all classes:
Use Priest buffs.
Fight at range with Sorcerer spells.
Switch to Swordsman for close combat.
Get hurt? Switch to Healer—heal himself!
Even summon pets with Summoner skills!
One man—an entire adventuring party.
Black was certain—he was the only one on Cassel Continent with dual-class ability.
Not even Jiaye, the protagonist, had this.
(Though her [Dragonrider] was stronger.)
Further testing revealed—other classes followed the same rule.
Repeat an action 10,000 times—unlock the class.
But what action? No hints.
Only trial and error.
Another thing—more classes meant more skills, better adaptability.
But level didn't increase.
He was still a Level 10 Novice Pirate—now also a Level 10 Novice Swordsman.
Still weak. Still pathetic.
But overall—huge help.
Especially when he returned to the fishing village.
Maybe unlock [Healer]—become the village doctor, save lives.
Then marry the village beauty—perfect life.
****
Days passed—until the day of the Azure Ball.
The royal family took it seriously—hosting a grand event.
Almost everyone important in the fleet attended.
Nearly all nobles came.
Servants and laborers couldn't join—but they could watch and eat.
Chefs prepared enough food to feed the entire fleet—incredibly lavish!
The scale of this ball? Unimaginable!
Originally, Black planned to be a nobody—blend in, eat his fill.
But then—this conversation happened.
"Your Highness, after my diligent service these past days—may I make a small request?"
Black bowed deeply—voice dripping with fake respect.
Alice glanced sideways—coldly:
"Speak."
"During tonight's ball… may I have free movement?"
He'd waited so long—he needed to eat!
"No."
Two icy words from Alice's thirty-eight-degree mouth.
Black froze—nearly spat blood.
"…Then… while I'm with you—can I eat?"
He refused to give up.
"No."
"Why?!"
"You're my guard. You represent the imperial family's dignity. Bad manners reflect poorly on us."
Alice stated it matter-of-factly.
Gahhh! Screw your dignity! Can face feed me?!
These royals are so evil!
Black raged internally.
"You can curse me—just don't say it out loud."
Alice smirked—as if she'd read his mind.
Tch.
Black was silenced.
This woman—with her beautiful face—had a wicked heart!
She wanted to keep him close—slowly torture him—until he cracked and confessed!
Ultimate villainess!
"My deepest apologies, Your Highness—your unmatched wisdom, celestial beauty, and grace are beyond admiration!"
I'd rather starve or jump off the ship than confess!
"Not bad. Good flattery—commendable."
A faint smile touched Alice's lips—without her realizing it.
Sunset arrived.
Music played—guests poured from other ships onto the Hodir.
The once-empty deck exploded with life.
The stage? The deck itself—spacious enough for all.
Every noble wore luxurious attire—proof of how much they valued this ball.
Black leaned against the ship's railing—still in his guard uniform.
Though just a servant, he was Princess Alice's personal guard.
The gold-trimmed dragon-embroidered uniform fit him perfectly—sharp, elegant, rivaling any noble.
His original body had always been handsome—ruggedly charming.
Now, with this attire and a golden ceremonial sword? He looked like a royal knight.
The setting sun cast a warm glow on his profile—highlighting perfect features.
Sea breeze tousled strands of black hair at his temples.
Lost in thought—adding a touch of melancholy.
To women, it was a masterpiece: a poetic, beautiful youth.
Just standing there—he drew amorous glances from maids. Soft gasps echoed around him.
But Black ignored them.
He was plotting: How to sneak away from Princess Alice tonight—and feast like a king.
If those girls knew his thoughts—their hearts would shatter.
As more guests arrived, Black scanned the nobles—recognizing key figures.
Besides Duke Gran and Round Table Knight's Son Cyril—there was a new face.
Another major supporting character—one of Jiaye's male love interests.
Tall, muscular, with a fierce scar over his left eye.
Amber wolf-like eyes burned with aggression.
Messy brown hair. A wolf fang earring on his right ear.
A dangerous smirk on his lips.
This was Seth Vort—better known as "Rampant Seth"!
[Name: Seth]
[Identity: Vice-Captain of the Empire's First Knight Regiment]
[Class Level: Lv.45 Mid-Tier · Diamond Knight]
[Favorite Food: Dragon meat, tiger meat, wolf meat]
[Hobbies: Combat, killing, bloodlust]
[Critical Info: Never provoke Seth.]
[Expected Fate: Becomes Jiaye's loyal dog.]
Also a Round Table Knight's son—but his father ranked higher than Cyril's.
Norton Vort, 7th-ranked Round Table Knight, was a Knight—specializing in the Long Spear.
His Overlord Spear could strike from ten kilometers away—once killed an elite Winged Dragon (Lv.70) mid-flight.
Unbelievably strong!
Like father, like son.
Seth was also a Knight—trained in the Overlord Spear.
Genius-level talent. Raised on battlefields—bloodthirsty, fearless.
Legendary battle record. Multiple level-skipping kills.
After returning from war, he joined the Imperial Knight Regiment—fame echoing across the empire.
Wolf of the Imperial Knights—Rampant Wolf Seth!
The "Rampant Wolf" nickname came from his ferocious fighting style—the more wounded, the stronger he became.
A man who'd bite flesh off you—even if dying.
But Black disliked him.
In fact—Seth was his least favorite male side character.
In this otome game, Seth's archetype was the wild little puppy.
At first cold and hostile toward Jiaye—then, after seeing her hidden strength, the battle-hungry Seth became obsessed—demanding duels.
After losing repeatedly—he turned into a loyal dog. Or rather—a Jiaye fanboy.
Yet the character felt too sanitized.
His background: aggressive, ruthless, arrogant.
Fine.
But his worst trait? Bloodthirsty cruelty.
For imperial prisoners or civilians who offended him? Kill without mercy.
Worse—he enjoyed torturing guilty girls, savoring their slow deaths.
Maybe the devs wanted dramatic contrast, but they overdid it.
Many players hated him—the most controversial male character.
Now, he chatted with Cyril—surrounded by noblewomen.
They seemed friendly, like brothers.
But only players knew—they hated each other.
Seth despised Cyril—seeing him as a weakling, low-tier family, no real power.
Cyril hated Seth—for mocking him and his family—seeing him as a musclehead with no brains.
If possible, Black wanted zero contact with Seth.
This combat maniac might snap and kill anyone at any moment.
"Good evening, Guard~ What are you thinking about so deeply?"
A voice like silver bells startled Black.
He turned—stunned for half a second before recognizing her.
It was Saintess Krystin.
Clearly here for the ball—exquisitely dressed.
She wore a silvery-white gown, its hem flowing like moonlight—making her pale hair even more ethereal.
A pearl belt cinched her slender waist. The crystal lily on her chest swayed gently—like a moonlight spirit.
No wonder she was one of the original beauties.
So beautiful—Black nearly stopped breathing.
"Ahem… Saintess, you flatter me. I'm just a humble guard."
Black didn't understand—didn't he already got rid of her with the Glacier Snow Lotus info?
Why was she obsessed with him again?
"Princess Alice's guard isn't ordinary."
Krystin scanned him carefully—as if trying to see through him.
Last time, she'd promised not to expose his lie.
But she still found him fascinating.
One who knew the Glacier Snow Lotus location—and Jörmungandr's whereabouts?
Who was he?
Surely, he held more secrets.
Maybe she could probe deeper.
"By the way, Mr. Black—will you participate in the Azure Ball?"
Krystin stared at him.
"As the princess's guard, where she goes—I go."
Black replied casually. After all—he was Alice's shadow.
"No, I mean—not just the dance itself."
Krystin shook her head—knowing he misunderstood.
"Do you mean the Azure Triad Contests, Your Holiness?"
Black realized what she meant.
The Azure Ball wasn't just social dancing.
It had something far more exciting.
The Azure Triad Contests.
In truth—this was the real draw of the ball.
The Three Contests referred to Literary Duel, Martial Duel, and Dragon Duel.
Literary Duel: A poetry contest—judging who could craft the most elegant, profound, and artistic verse.
Martial Duel: Pure combat—measuring raw strength.
Dragon Duel: Special—testing who could tame a winged dragon species faster.
In Dragon Duel, it was about presence. Generally, the higher one's status, the faster they tamed dragons.
Thus, royalty were often dragon-taming experts.
In the game's story, Jiaye swept all three contests—stunning everyone!
She stole the spotlight from every noble present!
This was her first true breakthrough—a peak flex moment that made players feel incredibly satisfied.
Nobles began noticing this hidden gem—the Count's daughter.
And here—she caught the attention of Cyril and Seth, the two male side characters.
Or rather—boosted their affection levels.
This was the first step in their romance routes.
But this was also where Jiaye earned Alice's hatred.
Why? Simple.
As a royal, Alice lost to Jiaye—a mere Count's daughter—in the Dragon Duel.
A direct slap to imperial dignity.
For Alice, who fiercely protected royal pride—this was devastating.
Alice fully descended into villainess mode—constantly scheming against Jiaye, framing her.
All failed. She only made herself look pathetic.
What could she do? She was fighting the main character.
Because of this, Alice later fought Jörmungandr without thinking—desperate for glory.
Her final act? Death on the battlefield.
Tragic, in a way.
But according to Black's calculations—if Jiaye couldn't attend due to injuries—none of this would happen.
Jiaye wouldn't attract Cyril or Seth—their romance lines might end before they begin.
Alice might not become a full villain either.
Black couldn't say if this change was good or bad.
But one thing was certain:
Jiaye's power level was the key.
As long as that didn't collapse—everything else could be managed.
"Exactly. Will you participate in the Azure Triad Contests?"
Krystin's voice brimmed with anticipation.
To her now, Black was a mysterious mastermind.
Beyond knowing rare intel—he must be a hidden powerhouse.
Definitely not a Level 10 weakling pirate.
She wanted him to reveal his true self during the contests.
"No. Absolutely not."
Black answered firmly—no hesitation.
Participate? Impossible!
He was here to eat, not fight.
Unless Alice offered room and board, six insurances and two funds, and paid him 100 gold coins monthly!
Hearing his firm refusal, Krystin felt a small disappointment.
"But I heard—if you win two of the three contests—you get to dance the Oath Dance with Princess Alice!"
She tried to tempt him—but it didn't work.
"Oh."
Black showed zero interest.
The Oath Dance was an ancient tradition of the Dragonheart Empire.
Very special—only danced by one man and one woman.
Simply put—it was a courtship dance.
Legend said: during the Oath Dance, the man received a mysterious blessing—making him irresistible to women.
It skyrocketed female affection toward him.
Many couples married after performing it.
Some even believed—if your goddess agrees to dance the Oath Dance with you… it's as good as accepting your proposal.
True, Alice was divinely beautiful—a princess.
For many noble heirs, dancing the Oath Dance with her? The highest honor!
Win her favor—marry her—gain her power? Instant success!
But to Black? Alice was just a bad woman.
No matter how beautiful—still a bad woman!
"Alice is so beautiful—don't you want to dance the Oath Dance with her?"
Krystin wasn't giving up—blinking her lovely red eyes.
"You're pretty too—should I dance it with you then?"
Black sighed. Did he look like a lecherous man?
But he didn't expect—his offhand remark embarrassed Krystin.
The Saintess turned as red as an apple.
Stammering, unable to speak.
She never expected Black to be so blunt. Others always flattered her indirectly.
After a while, she recovered—pouting, muttering:
"There are other rewards too!"
"Just the Dragonvein Fruit? Not interested."
Black replied instantly—no thought needed.
The Dragonvein Fruit was a rare item—temporarily boosting power significantly.
But there was a catch: You had to be Level 30+.
Otherwise—the energy would explode you.
So for Level 10 Black? Useless.
"Hmm? How do you know it's the Dragonvein Fruit?"
Krystin froze. This reward was just decided by the royals.
She'd learned it half an hour ago.
How did Black know?
F**! Spoke too fast!*
Black wanted to slap himself.
The Dragonvein Fruit as a prize? A last-minute decision by the royals.
A mere guard like him couldn't possibly know.
Now he was in trouble.
"I'm very curious, Mr. Black—how do you know?"
Krystin tilted her head like a cat discovering something new—eyelashes fluttering, leaning slightly forward.
"Ahhaha… I guessed! Lucky guess!"
Black's laugh was forced.
"Mr. Black… you're lying~"
Krystin activated her Lie Detection.
Black wanted to spit blood.
These women—all so evil!
"I'm sooo curious~"
Krystin smiled meaningfully—pure as a lily.
That smile, paired with her flawless beauty? A lethal weapon for men.
Any other man would've confessed his deepest secrets—even childhood bedwetting—just to make her smile.
But not Black.
To him—that smile looked terrifyingly sinister.
He had to stay alert.
Last time, he let his guard down—she stole the Glacier Snow Lotus info.
Not again!
He considered making up another excuse.
But—he remembered: Krystin's Lie Detection was too sharp.
Before her? He was naked.
So he decided: Close his mouth. Turn away. Be a cold, silent guard!
No matter what Krystin said—he wouldn't utter a word.
Beauty tactics won't work on me!
Krystin realized—Black wouldn't speak.
But she wasn't easily defeated. The more he stayed silent—the stronger her curiosity grew.
"Guard, just tell me—I'm really curious!"
"Don't avoid me. Open your mouth, please?"
"By the way—I baked cookies myself. Want some? Open your mouth—I'll feed you~"
No matter how gentle or sincere Krystin's tone became, Black remained like a wooden statue—unmoved.
Any other man would've already surrendered.
So the scene turned bizarre.
Krystin moved left—Black turned right.
She stepped forward—Black backed away.
They spun like actors in a farce.
But soon, Black sensed something off.
Why did his back feel icy?
As if countless killing intents were locked onto him!
He froze—scanning the deck.
Every noble—man and woman—was staring at him with murderous eyes.
They all looked like they wanted to devour him alive.
Now he understood.
Who was Krystin?
The Saintess of the Church of Creation!
A true superstar—her fans could circle the continent!
Nobles made up a huge portion—including those on the Hodir.
Imagine: your most pure, sacred saintess—someone you dare not even gaze upon—chasing after a man!
And not just any man—a lowly pirate-turned-guard!
Wouldn't you want to kill him?
That's exactly how it felt.
Other nobles aside—even Duke Gran and Cyril stared at him now, their expressions unreadable.
Clearly, they had many doubts about Black.
But at least—they held no hostility.
Yet one person was different.
A thick, nearly physical killing intent locked onto Black.
Like a feral wolf targeting its prey.
When Black realized this intent came from Rampant Wolf Seth—a cold sweat slid down his temple.
He suddenly remembered Seth's lore.
In the game, Seth didn't initially love Jiaye.
His obsession? The girl right here—Krystin.
Or rather—not "love." A dominant possessiveness.
He saw Krystin as his property—no other man allowed near her.
That's why many male nobles dared not pursue her—not even express admiration.
Black was certain—Seth's possessiveness held zero emotion.
It was like a man who believed himself the strongest wanting to own the prettiest vase.
To him, conquering the most sacred, noble saintess mattered more than her soul.
Plus—Seth believed Krystin's talent was exceptional.
If they united, she'd birth even stronger offspring!
A pure pursuit of superior bloodline strength.
Before his redemption arc, Seth was no different from a wolf in human skin.
Later, he shifted focus to Jiaye—and Krystin's fall into darkness made her lose appeal.
But that was later.
For now—Seth still saw Krystin as his possession!
And Black's interaction with her? In Seth's eyes—something intimate.
This was like stealing food from a wolf's mouth!
Black knew—he was in deep trouble.
Of all people, why Seth?!
Sure enough—Seth's face darkened.
He pushed through the crowd—step by step, toward Black.
Cracked.
Black's lips twitched—cursing his terrible fate.
Krystin noticed the hostile stares—realized her behavior was inappropriate.
Blushing, she awkwardly stopped beside Black.
Unknowingly—this only confirmed their closeness in Seth's eyes.
He strode forward—each step heavy, echoing—fueling his rage.
Each footfall crushed Black's nerves.
This was bad.
Black had no plan.
"Saintess… long time no see."
Seth reached them—feigning gentleness as he greeted Krystin.
"…Long time, Lord Seth."
Krystin subtly frowned—displeased.
She knew Seth's filthy desires toward her.
She despised him for it.
But her upbringing—her etiquette—kept her from saying anything harsh.
Though Seth couldn't force her—thanks to the Church's power—
his repeated harassment made her deeply resentful.
"That necklace I gave you last time—did you like it?"
Seth asked casually—reaching to stroke her hair.
A public claim: She is mine.
"…!"
Krystin stayed silent—slapping his hand away, eyes blazing.
Last time, she sold the necklace—donated the money to an orphanage.
She didn't care for such things.
Seeing her reaction, Seth didn't get angry—just smirked.
"No problem. If you don't like it—I'll give you another?"
"Not one—ten, a hundred, a thousand!"
"It's just a necklace. I have plenty. I'll keep giving until you're satisfied."
Arrogant words—fitting for the "Rampant Wolf."
Seeing Krystin stay silent, Seth finally turned to Black.
Or rather—he'd been targeting Black all along.
Black thought: Here it comes. No escaping now.
"Who's this?"
Seth asked—pretending ignorance.
During the White Pearl's attack, Black's actions drew everyone's attention.
In a way—he was famous.
"He's Princess Alice's guard—Black."
Krystin knew Seth meant harm—stepped slightly to block Black, shielding him from the killing intent.
Seeing her slender figure in front of him, Black felt touched.
She was clever—emphasizing he was a royal guard, warning Seth.
But touched or not—this protective act only enraged Seth further.
Sure enough, upon hearing the name, Seth's lips curled into a mocking sneer—his amber wolf-eyes piercing Black.
"Oh? So this is him—the pirate who crawled out of a sewage ditch."
Seth's voice wasn't loud—but every noble heard clearly.
"What? Think changing clothes lets you enter high society?"
"Lowborn blood—you can't hide that rotten sea stench no matter how hard you try."
Black's eyes darkened—but he said nothing.
Seth grinned wider—his gaze full of contempt.
"A pirate's a pirate. A dog can't stop eating shit—lived off theft and scams before."
"Now you've grown ambitious—daring to covet the Saintess?