The return to the city of Patrian was not the quiet entrance of a weary scouting party; it was the homecoming of a unit that had touched the edge of myth.
As the iron gates creaked open, the "Iron Sentinels" marched with a precision and spirit that hadn't been seen in years.
Their armor gleamed, their spears were perfectly balanced, and their eyes held the flickering light of men who had witnessed the impossible.
Inside the Earl's private solar, the air was thick with the scent of expensive ink and the sharp, metallic tang of Earl Ashur's restless mana.
The Earl stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the northern horizon. Beside him stood Dan, his arms crossed, his silent presence a stabilizing force for the Earl's simmering fury.
The heavy oak doors opened, and Captain Darius entered, followed by three of his senior knights. They didn't just bow; they knelt with a fervor that made Ashur turn away from the window.
"Report," Ashur commanded, his voice a low gravel.
Darius looked up, his face flushed with a mixture of exhaustion and awe. "My Lord... the journey was beyond anything we anticipated. The North End Cave is not a mere cavern. It is a sanctuary of steel."
The knights began to recount the tale, and as they spoke, the room seemed to grow colder. They described the labyrinth of level 300 horrors and how Arthur had stood at the vanguard, his blade a silver scythe in the darkness. But what struck the Earl most wasn't Arthur's combat prowess—it was his character.
"He took nothing, My Lord," Darius said, his voice trembling slightly. "The gold, the rare drops from the Frost Ghouls, the ores... he declined it all. He told us that since we were suffering for his request, the spoils belonged to the men who shed the blood. He even spent every night by the fire, using his own tools to repair our gear. My gauntlets... they move better now than the day they were forged."
Ashur's eyes narrowed. "A man of his strength... performing the labor of a common smith for his subordinates? Truly, his heart is as tempered as his sword."
Then, the description turned to the heart of the cave. Darius spoke of the vast hall filled with hundreds—no, thousands—of battle gears.
Swords that pulsed with elemental heat, armor that seemed woven from moonlight, and bows that whispered when the wind caught them.
"We tried to take them, My Lord," a knight added, his voice full of shame. "But as soon as we crossed the threshold of the display hall, the items turned into a mirage. They slipped through our fingers like smoke and returned to their pedestals. It is a place forbidden to those of this world."
"But Sir Arthur," Darius continued, "he approached a golden pedestal at the far end. There lay an old, weathered book. He examined it with a look of profound respect, but he did not take it. He left it there, undisturbed. He called it the 'Legacy for a Destined personl' and said it was not his to claim."
Eral Ashur paced the room, his mind spinning. An old book. A legendary blacksmith's journal. Thousands of high-tier weapons that only an "Immortal" adventurer could touch.
The pieces of a terrifying puzzle began to fall into place in Ashur's mind.
"If I had those weapons..." Ashur whispered, more to himself than the knights. "If my infantry were clad in the armor of legends and my knights wielded blades that could cleave mountain stone... I wouldn't just defend Patrian."
His mana flared, the candles in the room flickering violently. His face twisted into a mask of cold, calculated hatred.
"I would march on the Gauss Kingdom. I would burn their fields and tear down their walls until I reached the King's throat. My wife suffered for three years because of their poison. My revenge will not be satisfied until the blood of the Gauss royalty waters the soil of Patrian!"
Ashur turned to Darius. "You say only an Immortal can take these items. Arthur left the book there because he is a man of honor—he will not steal what he deems sacred. But I am not a hero. I am a man seeking justice."
He looked at Dan, his butler. "I need an Immortal. But not one like Arthur. I need someone disposable. Someone who lacks the moral weight to refuse a dark task. Find me the most idiotic, greedy, and simple-minded adventurer in Patrian. Someone who can be bought for a handful of gold and driven by the promise of glory."
Darius's eyes widened as a memory resurfaced. "My Lord... if you seek such a person, Sir Arthur himself once recommended an acquaintance of his to me at the gates."
Ashur stopped his pacing. "Oh? Arthur recommended a fool?"
"He called him 'Grid'," Darius replied, struggling to keep a straight face. "He described the man as having a 'questionable personality' and being 'weak', but possessed of a 'tremendous tenacity'. He said the man would complete any quest, no matter how hard, simply out of sheer stubbornness and greed for the reward."
Ashur let out a cold, sharp laugh. "A tenacious fool with no morals? Perfect. A man who will crawl through a sewer for a copper coin is exactly the tool I need to fetch that book."
The Earl sat at his desk and began to pen a formal quest scroll, the ink shimmering with a binding magical contract.
"Bring this 'Grid' to me," Ashur commanded. "Tell him the Earl of Patrian has an S-grade quest for him. Tell him the rewards will make him the richest adventurer in the kingdom. But do not tell him that if he fails, or if he tries to betray me, I will ensure he is hunted until his soul is erased from this world."
As the knights hurried out to find the unsuspecting Shin Youngwoo, Arthur stood on the balcony of Ozuna's Inn, watching the sun set over the city.
He knew exactly what was happening in the Eral's mansion. He knew that Darius would deliver the report, and he knew Ashur's thirst for vengeance against the Gauss Kingdom would drive him to desperation.
'The link is forged,' Arthur thought, his eyes reflecting the orange glow of the horizon. 'Grid will get his legendary class. Ashur will get his "thief". And I... I will get the freedom to move within the continent without any NPC trying to kill me.'
He felt a slight tug on his sleeve. It was Meteria, her eyes soft with concern. "Arthur? You look like you're thinking about something very far away."
Arthur turned and smiled, the cold calculation in his eyes vanishing, replaced by the warmth he reserved for his companions. "I was just thinking about the future, Meteria. The world is about to get very loud. I want to make sure we're ready for the noise."
The original story of 'Overgeared' was a chaotic storm centered around a lucky, greedy blacksmith. But Arthur had taken the wind and turned it into a gale that would blow exactly where he directed.