CHAPTER 148: THE FIRST LEGENDARY MOUNT

The forum was practically buzzing with excitement.

Crimson Wake’s victory over the Forest of Decay’s first boss had given players something to gossip about. Then Black Phantom struck down the same boss, sparking a fiery debate that spread across the boards like wildfire.

Not long after, Ironblood Covenant stumbled into a streak of uncanny luck, snatching the first kill on the second boss. It was around this point that rumors began swirling: Featherlight had taken on a hidden quest that led him straight into the Dark Horde’s Orc capital.

As speculation mounted, several Alliance of Light guilds launched a coordinated assault, storming the leveling zones and driving out every Dark Horde player they could find. The result was a string of brutal, large-scale clashes that lit the forums ablaze with battle reports.

By the time Featherlight disappeared from Ironblood Fortress, the displaced Dark Horde players were already trickling back to their grinding spots. But the damage had been done—the conflict between the two factions had escalated into open war.

Then came the notification that froze everyone in place. A Glorious Achievement blazed across the servers, leaving players dumbstruck. Featherlight, against all odds, had pulled it off again. He had completed a unique quest, claimed another Glorious Achievement, and even unlocked a neutral faction.

The announcement landed like a hammer on those who had been ridiculing him. They had been smugly spreading rumors about his supposed failure to claim the first Forest of Decay kills, and now they found themselves publicly humiliated, as if slapped hard across the face.

But the shocks weren’t over. While players were still reeling from that revelation, an even bigger wave broke over them.

The first legendary item.

The first legendary mount.

Its image appeared on the forums, dazzling and untouchable, and in an instant the administrators pinned the post to the top. Views skyrocketed into the thousands within moments, comments flooding in faster than anyone could read.

It wasn’t long before the mount’s thread completely eclipsed the Glorious Achievement posts. Guilds, lone players, and even wealthy gaming tycoons stared at the shimmering prize with undisguised hunger.

Some rich, impatient players immediately began to throw out offers, trying to snatch the mount away from Featherlight—oblivious to the fact that it was soulbound.

The bids soared, cracking a hundred thousand before most had even caught their breath. And then the number kept climbing, faster and faster, until it hit seven hundred thousand. After that, the frenzy slowed to a crawl, though the price still inched upward bit by bit.

When guildmates relayed the chaos to him in whispers, Ryan simply typed a brief reply on the forum: the mount was soulbound.

The bidding war died in an instant. But in its place came something new—an outpouring of desperate offers to buy his entire account.

Ryan leaned back with a wry smile tugging at his lips. The game was still in its infancy, and the idea of account trading barely existed. Soon enough, though, those eager buyers would face a brutal reality: accounts were permanently tied to their original player. They couldn’t be sold or transferred, and as the game updated, anyone who tried would find their purchase completely useless.

Eventually, even passwords would be meaningless. Players would simply step into their immersion pods or nutrient chambers and slip seamlessly into the world.

The forums might have been drowning in excitement, but Ryan had no time to bask in the noise. The others didn’t understand. To them, this was just a game. To him, every Glorious Achievement carried weight far beyond the virtual world.

Honor meant security. As long as he continued racking up achievements and climbing higher, his position in the real world would remain unshakable. But the moment people stopped seeing him as capable, as someone who could keep conquering, they wouldn’t need to abandon him outright to do harm. Neglect could be just as dangerous.

Ryan knew better than to trust the protection of others, no matter how well-intentioned. Even the Federal Government, for all its authority, could only shield him for so long. If he wanted safety, he had to build it himself—with power, influence, and a reputation that no one could dismiss.

His most recent unique quest had granted him a staggering 180,000 experience points. Combined with what he’d already stockpiled, the reward pushed him right to the brink of Level 34. After a quick lunch, he finally crossed the threshold.

The moment his level ticked upward, Ryan used his Hearthstone to return to Astral City. He ignored the Wandering Merchant entirely and headed straight for Stormhold Fortress. Inside the Grand Cathedral, he sought out the Paladin trainer and learned his new skill.

It was a passive ability called Soul Mend.

—

Soul Mend: When a player receives effective healing, a percentage of that health is converted into base mana.

—

The mechanic was straightforward. If a player had 1,000 health and 100 mana, and they lost 200 health before receiving 500 healing, they’d effectively only recover 200 health. That 200 was 20% of their total health, which meant they’d gain 20% of their maximum mana—20 points in this case.

Ryan’s mind immediately flashed back to the defense of Agu, the Nyman Shaman. If he’d possessed Soul Mend then, he wouldn’t have needed to guzzle mana potions like a man dying of thirst. The effect alone would have kept his reserves steady.

Of course, there was no way he could have predicted the unique quest arriving at Level 33. If he had known, he would’ve rushed to 34 first. The whole ordeal would have been laughably easy.

With the new skill in hand, he decided to press his advantage. He pulled out three Books of Light to expand his talent builds. He had only invested two points into his Protection path so far, and while it was tempting to reinforce his defenses, he knew better. His survivability was already solid. What he needed now was speed—faster kills, faster leveling. Retribution was the obvious choice.

The first Book of Light went into Divine Storm, his most frequently used ability. He was curious to see what new power it might unlock.

The pages dissolved in a shimmer of light, and a new talent appeared alongside Divine Storm: Radiant Storm.

—

Radiant Storm: When Divine Storm strikes, there is a 5% chance to automatically trigger Radiant Storm, slowing all enemies within 20 yards by 30% and dealing 20% of the Paladin’s maximum health as damage. (0/5)

—

With all five points invested, the trigger chance could climb to 25%. The talent wasn’t just strong; it was terrifying in group fights, its power compounding with every enemy in range. Ryan didn’t hesitate. He dropped an Auxiliary Talent Point into it immediately.

The second Book of Light went into Conquest, a talent that boosted his damage by 5% against humanoids, beasts, and elementals, and by 10% against demons and undead. The trade-off was a 5% penalty against giants and dragonkin.

But when the book’s light faded, something strange flickered into view. A new talent materialized beside Conquest—one so peculiar that Ryan froze, his expression twisting in disbelief.