EPISODE 14: When Quests Turn Into Crimes
Ironveil didn't look like a city built by developers—it looked like a mistake. A place the System forgot to finish. Rusted towers leaned like dying giants, neon signs flickered between unreadable symbols, and thick fog crawled around the streets like it had consciousness of its own.
Rex kept his hood low as he walked through the fractured marketplace. Players and NPCs moved around him with the same blank desperation. No one smiled. No one trusted anyone. Every face looked like someone who had died at least once—and remembered it too well.
He stopped at a stall where broken weapons hung like bones. The vendor glanced up, his eyes twitching as if he recognized something beneath Rex's disguise.
"Looking for a quest?" the man asked. His voice was low, cautious. "Not the kind the System gives. The kind people pay for."
Rex didn't answer immediately. The stall's table was covered with illegal items—monster cores still twitching with nerve pulses, blood-stained credit chips, and a cracked respawn crystal that hummed like something trapped inside wanted out.
The vendor leaned closer.
"There's a job. High reward. Simple delivery."
Rex lifted an eyebrow. "Delivery of what?"
The man hesitated, then tapped a locked iron crate behind him. "Cargo."
Rex stared at the crate for a long moment. He didn't need to open it to know what was inside. Whatever was in there had a heartbeat—and fear.
"This isn't a quest," Rex said quietly. "It's smuggling."
The vendor shrugged. "Everything is smuggling now. You want XP or not?"
Rex almost turned away. Almost. But then he caught a glimpse of a familiar mark branded onto the crate's metal surface. A black spiral. The symbol of a gang that he had wiped out years ago during the PvP wars. A guild he had burned from existence. Or… thought he had.
So they were still alive. Still operating. And still hunting him.
The vendor cleared his throat. "The crate goes to the old water plant. Guards will try to stop you. And if the contents die, so does the reward."
Rex exhaled slowly. This world had changed, but sins had memory. Even after the merge, the past followed him like a shadow soaked in blood.
He put a hand on the crate. It trembled under his touch.
Fine.
If this was the path Ironveil forced him onto, he would walk it—just not the way they expected.
He lifted the crate onto his back and slipped into the narrow alleyways, blending with the noise and chaos of the city. He could hear muffled breaths from inside the metal box. Whoever was trapped in there didn't know he was trying to help.
The streets twisted and narrowed. Dark shapes watched from rooftops, whispering his name, the one they feared and hated.
Fallen King.
He moved faster.
As he reached the abandoned water plant, figures stepped out from the shadows. Armed. Ready. Familiar.
A voice he hadn't heard in years echoed across the ruined floor:
"Still running errands, Rex? Or have you finally realized you're nothing without the crown you stole?"
Rex tightened his grip on the crate. His pulse steadied. His eyes hardened.
Ironveil wasn't just a broken city.
It was a graveyard of old enemies—
—and someone had just dug up another one.
If you want, I can now write EPISODE 15 in the exact same natural, human style.