Online Game: Starting With SSS-Ranked Summons

After leaving Aamon inside the prison, Arthur felt assured. No one would dare step inside that prison and leave.

Aamon's stats alone were staggering.

[Race:] Demon

[ID:] Aamon (Superior-Boss)

[Level:] 14

[Talent:] Demonic Aura (S)

[Health Points:] 180

[Mana Points:] 150

[Magical Damage:] 15

[Phyiscal Damage:] 30

[Damage Resistance:] 18

[Attributes:] Strength 30, Agility 23, Vitality 18, Intelligence 15

[Skills:] Demonic Descent (Epic), Demonic Body (Epic)

[Attribute Points:] 0

[Skill Points:] 3

Arthur glanced at the stats one last time, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Insane."

"Without Neko, defeating him would've taken me—and the others—longer.

Satisfied, he wore his mask, feeling the cool material mould to his face as his features shifted into an unremarkable, random visage.

Just another player now. Nothing special.

Stepping out of the building, he felt it instantly—Many eyes on him. Watching. Assessing.

'Of course, Adam would place spies here. He's still suspicious. But no matter…' Arthur mused. 'He'll never guess I'm hiding behind this mask.''

He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his posture to fit the role he was about to play—a player just released from prison, clueless and eager to catch up on what happened during his imprisonment. Natural. Unassuming.

His eyes scanned the bustling village until they landed on a nearby player.

Perfect.

Arthur sauntered over casually.

"Hey," he called out, voice low.

"What's been going on this past week? I've been rotting in that damned prison." He tilted his head slightly toward the village gates, where the guards stood stiffly at attention. Beside them, the imposing Goblin King loomed like a statue carved from malice.

"Bastards," Arthur muttered just loud enough for the player to hear, whilst landing a fleeting glare at the guards.

The player, seemingly sympathetic, nodded before launching into a detailed recounting of recent events. Arthur acted like he was listening intently as if each piece of information was falling into place in his mind like the final turns of a key in a complex lock.

"I see," Arthur replied, offering a grateful nod. "Appreciate it."

He turned and walked away, his movements loose, almost careless. But inside, his mind whirred. The spying eyes were no longer on him. He could feel it.

'They've removed me from suspicion. Good.'

His face remained expressionless as he blended into the crowd like all the other players.

Arthur strolled through the heart of the village, blending effortlessly into the crowd.

The village's streets were filled with players, some bartering, others sharpening their weapons, but one thing remained constant—the murmur of conversations that floated through the air like a distant hum.

"Hey, where do you think Fateless is right now?" one player asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Yeah," his companion replied with a shrug. "I haven't seen him in ages."

"That's why I'm asking, idiot," the first player shot back, rolling his eyes. "I need to buy some equipment. He always sells cheaper than the village shops."

The other player scratched his head, thinking. "He probably hit level 10 already. Bet he used that teleportation scroll we all got and left for the city. Makes sense, right? If he was still here, we'd see him auctioning gear like always."

"True," the first one nodded, before adding with a frown, "Haven't seen Lieutenant Adam either."

"Maybe he left with Fateless," the second player suggested nonchalantly.

Unbeknownst to them, Fateless—Arthur himself—brushed past them, lips twitching into a faint smirk beneath his mask. If only you knew...

He continued walking, each step calculated, his eyes subtly scanning every corner of the village. Time trickled by as Arthur passed through narrow alleyways and familiar streets, letting the minutes slip away purposefully.

Finally, he headed toward the plaza.

The mayor had chosen wisely.

The training ground was positioned precisely where most players spawned upon entering the village.

Its presence was impossible to miss—a sprawling, open area fortified with wooden fences and well-maintained grounds.

The dirt training fields stretched wide, dummies lined up like silent sentinels waiting to be struck down.

Simple, functional structures flanked the training ground, housing weapons, armour, and supplies.

A handful of guards stood at attention near the entrance. Their stern expressions and posture made it clear that the training ground was off-limits until further notice.

Arthur leaned against a wooden post, eyes half-lidded as he observed the surroundings. Minutes ticked by.

Then, a ripple of movement was accompanied by a loud sound of movement.

Arthur moved his eyes towards the direction where the loud sound came.

The mayor, Charles, appeared, cutting through the crowd. His dark robes swayed with each step, the insignia of the village proudly displayed on his chest.

Behind him were two guards and behind them were a sea of players.

Hundreds, maybe more.

They followed like moths drawn to a flame.

They had clearly heard the mayor's announcement and were eager to witness the grand opening of the village's new training ground.

Arthur's eyes narrowed.

'Perfect. Everything is going according to plan.'

The mayor stood atop a raised wooden platform in front of the crowd, his voice carrying across the bustling plaza.

His tone was confident, clear, and charismatic as he explained the new training ground's system to the gathered players.

He detailed the structured training regimens, the resources available, and the rewards that awaited those who excelled—ensuring that every player understood the value of this new addition to the village.

"And with that," the mayor concluded, raising his hand high, "I officially declare the training grounds... open!"

A cheer erupted from the crowd as the gates to the training ground swung open.

Inside, several guards already stood at attention, maintaining order.

A few wooden tables were set up neatly along the perimeter, each manned by an official ready to assist eager players with their registrations.

Arthur, having strategically positioned himself near the front, stepped forward calmly as the line formed behind him. His expression was neutral, but his mind was already working several steps ahead. This wasn't just about training—it was an opportunity.

A new identity. Another layer of protection in the village would allow him to enter the mayor's office when he wanted without raising suspicion.

He hated that he had to sneak in, but he had no choice. He was akin to a prisoner in the military, and he didn't want to be found out at all.

He approached one of the tables where a young man, a few years older than Arthur, greeted him with a professional smile.

"Hello, sir. Would you like to register as a full-time instructor or part-time instructor?"

Arthur returned the smile, his voice even. "I'd like to register as a part-time instructor."

The young man nodded. "And your name or nickname, sir?"

Arthur's eyes gleamed for a brief moment before he answered, "Swordmaster."

He wanted to instruct the people on how to use swords. He had good proficiency in swords since the rare skill had given him some mastery over swords. Furthermore, he could always go back to the city and buy a swordsman skill that would increase his mastery.

"Alright, sir. Your contract is almost ready. Just a few more steps before your recruitment is finalized. You'll need to pass an interview with one of our main instructors." Discover hidden content at My Virtual Library Empire