The Soul Seal in Female Dorm God's possession had quite the amusing backstory.
While exploring the starter village, he stumbled upon an old fisherman and struck up a conversation. The old man was the village church's priest, who spent his free time fishing. Unfortunately, nine out of ten times, he came back empty-handed, and the rare exceptions were bizarre finds—like corpses or magical beasts. For him, this was standard fare.
The priest believed himself cursed and poured out his grievances to Female Dorm God. Naturally, he didn't take the old man seriously, dismissing his woes as a lack of fishing skills. As an experienced angler himself, Female Dorm God decided to show off and help the priest with his fishing.
But after an entire day without catching anything, even he began to doubt himself. Just as he was about to give up, a "big one" finally bit. He reeled it in, only to pull up a jade arm—an eerie sight that almost made him wet his pants. Before he could process what had happened, the arm fused with his body, inexplicably granting him an Epic Rank Soul Seal, [Left Hand of the Cursed King].
Still reeling from the bizarre turn of events, he turned to ask the old priest what had just happened. However, the priest had vanished into thin air.
"You think I'm a three-year-old? An Epic Rank Soul Seal just falls into your lap? Stop spinning fairy tales," Bradley said, his face full of disbelief.
"I swear I'm not lying!" Female Dorm God protested, raising his hand solemnly. "This cursed thing's the reason I've been kicked from countless parties. Getting to level 20 was pure hell!"
Orson couldn't help but chuckle. Without knowing the Soul Seal's attributes, having someone like Stewart on the team could easily cause misunderstandings—like nearly healing the party's knight to death earlier, almost leading to a total wipe.
"He's probably telling the truth. There are plenty of ways to get a Soul Seal, and luck's one of them," Orson said with a smile. He was living proof of that himself. Who would've thought answering trivia questions could net him a Super God-grade Soul Seal? It was just one of the many ways Infinite Dimensions rewarded serendipity.
"I'll send you a guild invite," Orson said.
"Boss, I'll definitely—I mean, I'll humbly follow your lead!" Female Dorm God said, hastily correcting himself after seeing Bradley's glare.
With the Three Crowns Guild as his backing, he could at least find parties for dungeons more easily moving forward.
The trio headed toward Pondenorlin City. The guild war was only a few hours away, and the world chat was filled with recruitment messages for skilled players. This first guild war was of utmost importance, and many guilds were willing to shell out large sums to hire top players. However, major guilds with a cap of 300 members had already filled their rosters, requiring a strict minimum level of 20. Every recruit was a top-tier player selected with care.
Orson checked their guild roster—barely 50 members, most of them female life-skill players. This was obviously the handiwork of those two pervy idiots, Madman and Bradley.
Still, Orson wasn't worried. The influence of Infinite Dimensions was unlike any other MMORPG. Professional players were gradually pouring in, and many of them were still low-level, some barely over level 10. Aside from the top 10 ranked players, these were the people he needed to recruit.
Right now, the game was in its early exploration phase. Whether someone had undergone a class awakening or belonged to the high-level vanguard didn't make much of a difference yet. Orson's focus was on highly skilled players with sharp instincts who could hold their own in any situation.
"Why are there so many red names here?" Female Dorm God suddenly exclaimed.
The group halted as a growing crowd of red-name players—those marked as killers—appeared on the outskirts of the icy plains. Within seconds, their numbers swelled to the size of a small battle group.
Ask Sword Southwind issued a command: "All members of Ask Sword Guild, retreat from the icy plains immediately. Move fast! The Saint Slayer Syndicate is here!"
The 50-60 guild members grinding in the area immediately started retreating. Other solo players cursed under their breath, grumbling about how these scumbags ruined the game by constantly killing players for loot. Yet, despite their complaints, they all quickly withdrew from the icy plains.
"Saint Slayer Syndicate? Who are they supposed to be? They're only a few dozen people. Why are we scared of them when we're hundreds strong?" Bradley scoffed. As he noticed the leading red-names staring at him, he drew his Light-Dark Twin Swords.
Orson's sharp gaze flickered coldly. These red-names had let the other players go, which clearly meant their target was them.
Saint Slayer Syndicate wasn't just any group of PKers; they specialized in contracts. Their main business was accepting bounties to eliminate players who had offended wealthy patrons. Skilled and well-equipped, they rarely left solo players with a chance to fight back. In his previous life, Orson had seen many players quit the game after being hunted relentlessly by them.
"Boss, these are the targets. The anonymous client's description fits, especially the Magic Swordsman—he's definitely Money Traveler from Godslayer," said Saint Slayer Water God.
"An S-grade awakened class? Looks will be a tough nut to crack," replied their leader, a level-23 thief cloaked in black, his eyes glinting with malice.
"What do we do? Should we run?" Female Dorm God asked nervously. His actions betrayed him, though—he was already retreating a dozen meters away.
Bradley barked, "Get your ass back here! Can't you see they've got us surrounded? You'll just die running off on your own."
Startled, Female Dorm God froze, realizing that two squads of red-names had flanked them, cutting off their escape route.
"You're Orgod, right?" the leader sneered.
Orson nodded calmly. "That's me. Mind telling me who hired you?"
"It's you, all right. As for the client, that's confidential. All you need to know is we'll be waiting for you at the respawn point after this."
"Oh? So killing me once isn't enough? You're planning to camp me too?" Orson replied with an amused smile.
Water God sneered. "Listen, you've pissed off someone with deep pockets. Do yourself a favor and delete your account before we make you our punching bag."
Bradley wasn't having it. Planting his swords in the ground, he taunted, "Come on, then! Let's see who ends up deleting their account!"
Water God's expression darkened. S-grade awakened classes had a reputation, but he doubted three people could make a difference.
Orson, unfazed, exuded an aura of confidence that made the red-names hesitate. Sensing the shift, Female Dorm God regained his courage and mimicked Bradley's bravado. "Yeah! You guys are just trash!"
Water God sneered. "Nothing personal, Orson, but someone paid 5,000 gold for your head. Time to die!"
"Kill them all!" the leader roared.
Water God cast [Tidal Wave], a massive blue surge hurtling toward the trio. Orson stepped forward, summoning a radiant Solar Shield that effortlessly absorbed the attack.
"It didn't even break his shield?" Water God faltered. His spell, capable of dealing 600 damage, hadn't made a dent.
"I'll handle the rear. You take the front," Orson said to Bradley.
"What about me? Should I heal?" Female Dorm God asked hesitantly.
"No, no, please don't," Orson said quickly. Stewart's heals had a way of turning into accidental kills, and with Orson's red-name status, dropping his Tree of Rebirth would be disastrous.
"Guess I'll just sit back…" Female Dorm God muttered, feeling dejected.
Orson clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't think that way. To me, you're a secret weapon. Your time hasn't come yet."
His eyes lit up. "I'm a secret weapon? Of course! The strong always go last!"
"Time to test my swords!" Bradley charged ahead, his twin blades carving through the air as arrows rained down on him. He deflected most of them with a flourish, shrugging off the few that hit him.
"Reverse Light Triple Slash!" he roared, unleashing a dazzling three-hit combo.
The Light-Dark Sword Saint's B-grade skill increased damage with each consecutive strike, leaving a 6,000 HP knight staggering backward.
"What the hell kind of broken damage is this?!" the knight exclaimed, retreating in panic.