'This… is where it gets interesting.'
The thought lingered in Don's mind, sharp and deliberate, as anticipation coiled beneath his calm exterior. Every step he took into the narrow passage felt measured, controlled, like he was walking onto a stage he had already rehearsed in his head.
But just as he crossed into that tight stretch of terrain, he heard movement. Figures appeared along the path, four of them, stepping forward almost simultaneously, as though they had been waiting just out of sight for the exact moment his route narrowed.
Don slowed. Not fully stopping, never fully stopping, but just enough. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took them in.
The four players stood ahead, their silhouettes outlined faintly by the flickering light behind them. Above each of their heads hovered bright, unmistakable IDs:
[Daring Vex South]
[Daring Maverick Claw]
[Arcane Mythos Brighthaven]
[Talia Stormsister]
Don blinked once. 'What kind of naming convention is this?'
For a brief moment, something about them stirred a strange sense of familiarity. It wasn't their faces, and it wasn't their gear. It was the way they stood, loose and confident, a kind of casual arrogance woven into their posture.
The hairstyles, the slight tilt of their shoulders, the subtle way they occupied space like they expected the world to move around them. It reminded him of characters straight out of those old gangster films, people who believed they owned every room they walked into.
But the resemblance ended there. Don's gaze lingered briefly on Daring Vex South.
'Yeah. Definitely not that level.' He almost sighed internally.
Amusement faded as he quickly analyzed them.
[Daring Vex South, Human Warrior.]
[Daring Maverick Claw, Assassin.]
[Arcane Mythos Brighthaven, Dark Elf Mage.] [Talia Stormsister, Sea Elf Priest.]
They were all at level seven, all coordinated and all with red names. Player Killers, PK players for short...
He didn't know what's their particular purpose for killing other players as some do that for the fun of it, while most other PK players kill for the benefit, like coins, equipments etc...
Don seeing their red coloured name that signified their PK status couldn't help but frown.
This was a bad sign, not just because of who they were, but because of where they were. This wasn't a coincidence. And it was definitely the worst time for him to clash with such Pk group...
As he contemplated, behind him, the air trembled. The heavy, oppressive buzzing of the Jungle Queen Bee grew louder with every passing second, its presence pressing forward like an incoming storm. Don didn't turn. He didn't need to. He could feel it. The distance was closing fast. He gritted his teeth...
And in front of him, four variables. Four unknowns. Potentially hostile.
Without hesitation, he made his move.
His foot slipped. It was subtle. Convincing. Yes, he was doing this on purpose...
His body pitched forward abruptly, his balance collapsing as though his footing had betrayed him at the worst possible moment. He fell hard, face first into the dirt.
For a brief moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, deliberately, he dragged himself across the ground. The rough, dry soil smeared across his cheeks, his forehead, his armor. Dust clung to him instantly, dulling the faint sheen of his equipment, masking its quality beneath a layer of grime.
When he pushed himself back up, he looked different. Not just messy, but diminished. His posture was slightly off, his movements a fraction less confident. Dusty, disheveled, unremarkable, just another struggling beginner trying to survive in a world far bigger than him. The kind of player no one paid attention to. The kind no one feared.
'It's a weird move, but it should work,' he sighed inwardly.
Behind him, the Jungle Queen Bee surged into the narrow passage, its massive form filling the space with overwhelming pressure, wings roaring, stinger twitching with lethal intent. The sound alone was enough to make lesser players freeze. But Don didn't turn, didn't flinch, didn't react. He simply stood there, breathing steady, eyes calm.
This was the risk he had to take. From this moment onward, everything would depend on how well he played his role.
The four players reacted immediately.
Daring Maverick Claw, a short-haired boy with dyed red hair and multiple ear piercings, leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with unmistakable excitement. There was no caution in him, only greed. "Brother Nan, see? I told you there's definitely a boss here!"
Daring Vex South didn't react right away. His gaze remained fixed on the approaching Queen Bee, sharp and calculating. Then, slowly, he gave a small nod.
"Good." His voice was low, controlled, cold. "While this kid is holding aggro, we kill it."
The plan formed instantly and without resistance. Use Don. Take the boss. Discard him.
Maverick Claw didn't wait. He dashed forward, daggers flashing as his body cut into the battlefield with reckless confidence. The others followed immediately, Vex South moving to intercept angles, Brighthaven raising his staff, Talia stepping back to maintain casting distance.
Don didn't react. Didn't argue. Didn't protest. After all, things were going according to his plan...
That moment, he moved. The moment the Queen Bee entered striking range, he shifted sideways, his body slipping along its attack arc with controlled precision. His feet traced a subtle curve along the ground, circling the boss, not fleeing, not engaging recklessly, but guiding it. Maintaining aggro. Controlling positioning. He adjusted its angle, turned its body, and opened its flank to make it easier for them to attack. To most players, it would have looked like a desperate act of survival. To Don, it was control.
Talia Stormsister caught sight of him as she began casting, her lips curling into a light, mocking smile. "Hey, you! If you can't handle it, just run. Don't die and expect me to heal you."
Don glanced at her. Just briefly. Then he looked away. 'Yeah. I wouldn't count on that healing anyway. D*mbass.'
His focus returned immediately. Their equipment was average at best. Daring Vex South stood out slightly, clad in three pieces of metal armor, shoulders, gloves, boots, but even those lacked luster. The metal looked dull, poorly refined. Low quality. Nothing impressive. Nothing threatening.
Behind them, the hive clearing had turned into a battlefield. Players with similar name prefixes flooded in from all directions, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Levels four and five, barely equipped, some wielding mismatched weapons, others fighting with nothing but their fists. Worker Bees swarmed them relentlessly, attacks sharp and unforgiving. White light flashed constantly as one player fell, then another, then three more. They would respawn and return only to die again. They couldn't even protect themselves, let alone interfere.
Which meant right now, only these four stood between Don and the boss.
And as the fight continued, the difference became obvious. Daring Vex South and Maverick Claw dealt low damage, their attacks landed, but barely moved the Queen Bee's HP. Almost negligible. The real damage came from Brighthaven and Talia, whose magic was clean, efficient, and precise. Spell after spell struck the Queen Bee, chipping away steadily at its massive health pool. Within two minutes, its HP dropped another ten percent.
And then the atmosphere changed. Subtly at first. Then completely.
All four of them turned to look at Don. He understood instantly. Once the boss died, they wouldn't let him walk away.
Daring Vex South tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. Maverick Claw smirked and stepped closer, his tone dripping with mock friendliness. "Buddy. We helped you kill this boss. You've got something to say, right? We didn't work for free."
Don smiled faintly. Calm. Controlled. Playing along. "If you kill the boss, the equipment will be yours, right?"
Maverick Claw's expression twisted into a sneer. "Trying to act tough? I'm telling you, if anything drops and you touch it, we'll kill you on the spot."
Don's smile didn't change. "Let's not be like that. It's just equipment. How do you want to split it?"
Maverick Claw didn't hesitate. "Simple." He gestured casually. "Metal armor goes to Brother Nan. Mail goes to Talia. Leather is mine. Robes go to Brighthaven. Weapons split by class."
Don's gaze sharpened slightly. "What class are you going for?"
"Thief."
A pause. Don's smile deepened, just slightly. "What a coincidence. Me too."
Maverick Claw shrugged, completely unconcerned. "Then you get nothing."
Daring Vex South added flatly, his tone final. "You already did the work. You'll get the experience. That's enough."