Ashe stepped out of the gaming pod, his vision a bit blurry. It wasn’t until he wiped his eyes that he realized he was crying.
What a miserable day; he had been scolded to the point of tears.
Despite obtaining an advanced account, Ashe had no experience in commanding high-difficulty raids. In fact, he hadn’t even attempted a high-difficulty raid before. So, he decided to watch how others conducted their raids first.
With his fully-achieved and current version max-geared character, he easily blended into an Extreme Raid group.
In the game Epic, high-difficulty dungeons are categorized into Extreme Raids, Phantom Mode, and Ultimate Mode. Extreme Raids are the upper limit for regular players. Phantom Mode can only be cleared by professional players with years of immersion, whereas Ultimate Mode is exclusive to sorcerer players capable of conquering it.
Ashe thought that even if he couldn’t tackle Ultimate Mode right away, clearing an Extreme Raid shouldn’t be an issue. He even read guides and confirmed his character’s tactical role, planning to clear an Extreme Raid in a day and then lead a team to pioneer Phantom Mode.
Then he spent the entire day fully experiencing the curse culture of the Gospel Kingdom.
When it comes to cursing, the Gospel and Blood Moon Kingdoms each have their unique styles. The Blood Moon Kingdom, devoid of parents, often targets race, gender, and education for precise, seamless, and individual discrimination. Conversely, the Gospel Kingdom, where practically everyone has parents, circles around maternal relatives, extending to an all-encompassing barrage of curses involving one’s ancestors.
Interestingly, possibly because the Gospel holds a faith-like status in society, it often becomes the main subject of insults. While Ashe himself didn’t mind, Gospel people might get deeply offended by remarks like, “You’ve been deemed a bottom-feeder by the Gospel for life,” or “The Gospel decrees that you’ll be stuck with an ugly partner.”
In summary, not only did Ashe fail to clear the Extreme Raid, but he was also berated by his teammates.
The virtual games of the Gospel are indeed fun but equally challenging. In these consciousness-immersive games, players must manually control their characters to perform tactical maneuvers. Actions like actively dodging damage zones, turning to avoid gaze attacks, and positioning correctly to share mechanic damage all have to be executed while maintaining offensive output.
In old holographic screen games, these operations would be considered somewhat challenging. After all, all complex actions could ultimately be performed with just a keyboard and mouse.
But in the new era of consciousness-immersive games, these operations are explosively difficult. Ashe either focused solely on dealing damage without observing the enemy’s status or got so engrossed in dodging dungeon mechanics that he neglected his teammates’ status.
Every second required full-body coordination, and if he stumbled over uneven ground, it could immediately spell a team wipe.
Not to mention, being in first-person view limited the player’s field of vision, making it impossible to gather all the necessary information. He might even collide with teammates, leading to mutual disaster-something Ashe experienced several times that afternoon as he inadvertently sabotaged his team.
However, amid this near-masochistic difficulty, Ashe discovered that the high-difficulty dungeon enemies... resembled knowledge creatures from the virtual realm!
Or rather, the enemies’ skills, attributes, and combat styles seemed to be heavily inspired by knowledge creatures from the virtual realm. For instance, the “Extreme Cutting Carp Overlord Lord” they battled that afternoon was clearly an enhanced version of the Blade Fish Dragon.
Even though Ashe and his team could handle the Blade Fish Dragon as easily as kicking a ball, after deeply experiencing the Extreme Cutting Carp, Ashe felt their strategy for slaying the Blade Fish Dragon could still be optimized.
Moreover, because knowledge creatures in the virtual realm are so diverse, there theoretically isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. Yet, the team strategies summarized in Epic’s high-difficulty dungeons could apply to almost any scenario: spreading out, gathering, facing away, taunting, luring... Compared to the mature and detailed team combat systems in Epic, Ashe and his team seemed like a prehistoric hunting family, relying on tacit understanding and rudimentary signals like “I’ll go,” “Don’t move,” and “You go over there.”
Ashe quickly realized that these high-difficulty dungeons significantly improved his command skills. However, he was puzzled: why did others also play these self-torturing high-difficulty dungeons? They couldn’t team up in the virtual realm...
Then it dawned on him: exactly, because they couldn’t team up, after getting beaten up by knowledge creatures in the virtual realm alone, they wanted to get their revenge in reality!
You trampled on me today, so I’ll bring seven brothers to trample on your grave tomorrow!
One reason the enemies in the game were modeled after knowledge creatures from the virtual realm is that it was easy to copy. Another reason was that such enemies could ignite the wrath of sorcerers without any need for backstory! The principle might be similar to having fly images in urinals.
However, Epic was not a sorcerer training game. Sorcerers could at most gain a rough understanding of knowledge creatures’ attack patterns from the game, but the combat experience during raids was mostly useless-firstly, their personal combat power was far inferior to that of in-game characters. In any Kingdom, the number of production sorcerers far exceeded that of battle sorcerers. Secondly, raid strategies were based on team cooperation, but in the virtual realm, they were undoubtedly solitary figures. The virtual realm’s grand exams didn’t give them any chance to connect.
It just so happened that only an examinee like Ashe, who could form teams through loopholes, could extract valuable cheating experience from high-difficulty raids.
When the maid passed by, Igor directly pulled her into the room.
Ashe was dumbfounded, following in to close the door—weren’t Con Artists supposed to use mental suggestions or hypnotic gazes? Why did he just grab her? I could do that too!
However, Ashe quickly realized he couldn’t—initially, the maid was a bit panicked, but when she looked up and saw the Con Artist’s face, which could even charm a Moonshadow Elf, her cheeks instantly turned red, and she lowered her head, saying, “Do you need something?”
Ashe waved his hand in front of her face. Why did she say “you” instead of “you all”? What about me?
The maid was a twenty-year-old human female, with slightly pointed ears, possibly because one of her parents was an elf. She was beautiful, with a particularly shapely backside.
Noticing her hungry gaze towards Igor, Ashe realized he had been mistaken. The previous scene of countless citizens staring at him on the street had been so impactful that Ashe subconsciously did not regard the people of Vamora as ordinary people but rather as neutral mobs with yellow names.
But in reality, except for being happy and energetic every day, they were almost no different from ordinary people. They would also drool over a handsome guy and get angry when someone was bad at a game and couldn’t carry the team.
Due to the gap between outsiders and locals, Ashe rarely saw their normal side.
“You know who we are, right?”
The maid nodded: “The patriarch told us. You are Miss Annan’s servants and also guests of Senhaeser.”
Igor said, “Actually, we are not Senhaeser’s guests. We are Senhaeser’s clansmen.”
The maid and Ashe were both stunned, though Ashe’s expression was hidden under his black cloak and mask, so the maid didn’t notice.
The maid shook her head: “That’s impossible. I can recognize any member of the Senhaeser clan.”
“We are undercover agents sent by the patriarch to infiltrate Annan’s circle and steal the Dolan Family’s secrets,” Igor said. “But Annan is very cunning. She would never trust anyone from the Senhaeser clan. However, the patriarch also doesn’t trust outsiders, so she arranged for us to undergo an Exorcism Ritual, temporarily severing our ties with the clan and Vamora. After multiple layers of disguise, we finally earned Annan’s trust.”
The maid was skeptical: “You’re people the patriarch trusts? But I remember the patriarch doesn’t trust men much.”
Igor sighed: “You’re right. The patriarch indeed doesn’t trust men, which is why I used to be the patriarch’s close confidante.”
Both the maid and Ashe were taken aback, with the maid showing a complex expression: “Do you mean...”
“For the great achievements of Senhaeser, this sacrifice is nothing,” Igor said, tucking his hair behind his ear and revealing a sorrowful look that evoked pity. “It’s just that it’s been a long time since anyone cared for me...”
The emotions conveyed by the Con Artist were incredibly persuasive, and the maid almost immediately believed him. She then turned to Ashe: “And you are...?”
Ashe glanced at Igor, who winked at him.
Although Ashe didn’t know what Igor was planning, it was clear he had to go along with it.
“I am also someone the patriarch trusts.”
“But the patriarch wouldn’t trust a man,” the maid said, looking suspicious. “Are you also the patriarch’s confidante?”
Ashe realized he couldn’t use Igor’s excuse. Igor could rely on his superb acting skills and fitting appearance to pull it off, but Ashe didn’t meet the criteria in either aspect. He had to fabricate an identity that fit his persona—
“In theory, Annan could be considered my daughter now.”