"Did I teach you to be selfish?!" his father shouted, throwing a low uppercut at Yor's jaw. His punches weren't just angry—they were heavy, built from years of dragging nets and crates out of the sea.
Yor's body moved on instinct—like something inside him had flipped to autopilot.
His father lunged at his stomach. Yor reacted fast—stepping back, then driving a quick jab into his eye. It wasn't clean, but it landed. Deimos Online had trained him to aim for critical points, and now, his body moved on instinct.
This time, the monster wore his father's face.
His father staggered, snarling in disbelief.
"Impossible!" he shouted, his voice cracking with rage and frustration.
He let out a scream—raw, furious, and loud enough to rattle the windows in their frames. But the neighborhood stayed silent. They'd learned a long time ago that whatever happened in that house wasn't their business.
Blow after blow came Yor's way—toward his stomach, his jaw, anywhere vulnerable—but Yor dodged them all, moving like water. The attacks slowed. His father's breath grew ragged, his movements sloppy. He didn't have the stamina anymore.
Then Yor saw it—a tiny opening, just for a split second. Most would've missed it, but he didn't.
He drew his arm back and struck fast and hard, putting everything into one clean shot straight to his father's chin.
His father's eyes glazed over, unfocused, like a switch had been flipped. Then his body slumped forward and crashed to the wooden floor. A strand of spit slipped from his mouth—he was out cold.
The next day after school, Yor came home to silence. His father didn't say a word—just sat on the couch like always, surrounded by bottles, cigarette ash scattered on the table, and old kung fu movies playing on the dusty TV. He laughed like nothing had happened the night before.
At least he wasn't bothering Yor anymore.
Today had been quiet. Harper and his friends were absent, so Yor made it home without any trouble. For once, he felt at peace. All he wanted now was to log into Deimos Online and forget everything else.
He headed straight to his room, but first stopped by his mom's. She was awake, lying in bed, the same way she always was lately. Yor leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead.
"Mom, have you eaten already?"
She gave him a weak smile and nodded.
After a warm bath and a change of clothes, Yor opened the cabinet and took out the HALO. It was shaped like a thick circlet—black with faint lines of light along the edges. The design was simple but futuristic, built for function more than flash. He placed it on his head.
Then he sat beside his mom and held her hand. Her skin was cool and thin, but it still made him feel safe somehow.
Time to play Deimos Online.
In the town square of Cael Lorinth, the usual chaos filled the air. Players of all kinds had their own business—trading, shouting for party members, looking for dungeon runs or boss raids. It was loud, crowded, and alive with competition.
And in the middle of it all stood Yor and Ludwig.
But they weren't there to look for a party. Ludwig was helping Yor get hired—not as a regular teammate, but as a mercenary. A player-for-hire. Someone you brought in when your party needed extra firepower for a tough quest.
The only problem? No one really knew Yor yet. He had no reputation. No track record. And in a world where trust was currency, that made things tricky.
That's where Ludwig came in.
Handsome, smooth-talking, and popular with the ladies, Ludwig acted as Yor's walking, talking advertisement. He approached groups—especially ones made up of girls—offering Yor's service like a deal too good to pass up.
"Excuse me, ma'am. Hi—I'm Ludwig," he said with an exaggerated bow, tapping the short-haired brunette gently on the shoulder. One look at her party's mismatched gear, and Ludwig could tell—they were definitely newbies.
"Oh no," he gasped, throwing his arms up to shield his eyes. "I almost got flashbanged by your radiant beauty."
He laughed at his own line, playful and confident.
The two girls practically squealed. One covered her mouth in shock, while the other fanned her face like she was about to pass out.
"Oh my god," one of them whispered, barely holding back a grin.
He'd even combed his hair neatly for the role—and sprayed on a cologne potion labeled Musky Mountain, a scent clearly made to scream "for men."
Beside him, Yor couldn't help but smile behind his mask. Ludwig had crafted this charming, graceful persona just to help him out.
Normally, Ludwig was the exact opposite—short-tempered, arrogant, reckless, and definitely not the respectful type.
But right now? He was Prince Ludwig: smooth-talking, elegant, and disgustingly convincing.
"Why don't you hire my friend Gummybear for whatever quests you want to take? Easy, medium, hard—doesn't matter. Buy his time for the day for 500 sen, and he'll do whatever you need."
10,000 silver coins is equal to 500 sen in real-life currency, which can be exchanged.
"I'm Lifa," she said, squirming like a fangirl. "Sure—I'll hire him."
She looked away shyly. "I'll send the payment now. Ten thousand silver coins—it's everything I managed to save up."
[Trade Successful]
A guy with black hair and decent gear approached them. Judging by his posture and equipment, he seemed to be their party leader. He didn't look friendly—more like the type who got mad easily and saw everyone else as beneath him.
"Roma…" one of the girls whispered, her face going pale as soon as she saw him.
He marched toward them, frowning.
"Lifa! What the hell did you just do?" he snapped. "We were saving that for your new weapon, and you gave it to him?"
He shoved Yor hard, forcing him a step back.
Without hesitation, Ludwig drew his dagger and pressed it to Roma's neck in one fluid motion.
Gasps rippled through the plaza. People were already turning to look, murmuring in surprise.
"Wait, isn't that the guy who got chosen by seven gods?"
"Ludwig?!"
"And who's the other one—the guy in the smiley mask?"
Roma glanced around, realizing the crowd was watching. Then his gaze settled back on Ludwig.
"So you're Ludwig," he scoffed. "I don't mind paying for mercenary services—but not from some masked weirdo."
Ludwig didn't say a word. He just released a wave of dark energy that made the air feel heavier.
The crowd fell silent. Even the noise of the plaza seemed to dim under the weight of his aura.