A few more players stepped forward, one by one, pledging themselves to my company. It still felt surreal, like I was now the founder of a royal company. A guild, but recognized. So, you know… better.

  At some point, I stopped keeping track of who was joining, lost in the endless cycle of names and gifts, each new member making my stash of rewards shrink further and further. They were the ones I had been saving the fantastic gifts for, the ones still on the fence, the ones who needed a little persuasion.

  When I reached the last name on the list, I straightened, scanning the room. “Now, is there anyone else who wants to join?” Silence hung in the air for a moment.

  Then a soft chuckle came from the back, near one of the massive stone pillars. There, casually leaning against it, was NightSwallow.

  Her posture was utterly relaxed, one boot crossed over the other, arms folded loosely, the sign of effortless disinterest, except for the blade of grass in her mouth, which she chewed absentmindedly, like some bored traveler who had just stumbled into a situation far beneath her energy levels.

  “What the hell. Why not?” she said lazily, voice carrying just enough amusement to sound half-serious, half-mocking. Then, with a sharp push off the pillar, she sauntered forward—not walked, not strode, but moved with the deliberate ease of someone who never rushed for anyone or anything. “Count me in, girl.”

  She carried herself like she belonged everywhere and nowhere at once, the kind of presence that drew attention without ever demanding it and reached the base of the throne. She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a knowing grin, her eyes full of amusement.

  “I accept the company nonsense, and I’ll fight like an honorable person shouldn’t.” The moment she finished speaking, a system notification popped up. Her request to join flashing right in front of me. I blinked. That… counted?

  I glanced at Lola, who was already rubbing her temples, as if dealing with an entirely different kind of headache. Right. Of course. I cleared my throat. “Uh… welcome, NightSwallow.”

  She arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “And the giftie?”

  Giftie.

  I blinked again, trying to process the sheer audacity of calling what was supposed to be a valuable artifact something that sounded like a party favor. She gestured vaguely toward the air, her movements slow, almost lazy, but her meaning very clear. “A random small artifact, you said, but the last one cost? What, five thousand?” She grinned, full of mischief. “I assume mine is of equal generosity?”

  My stare snapped to Lola, but all she did was nod with resignation.

  Oopsie.

  I, uh, might have gone overboard with the gifts. But hey! For me, it was technically free. For everyone else? It was very, very expensive. And if anyone asked? That’s exactly what I’d tell them.

  I grinned, reaching into my dwindling stash of gifts and pulling out a one I was saving for her. A small golden pin, delicate but unmistakably valuable. “I’ve got something special for you,” I said, twirling it between my fingers before handing it to her.

  She took it gingerly, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion, rolling the small ornament between her fingertips. It was light, simple, shaped like a coiling feather, its metallic surface catching the magic torchlight with a soft, golden gleam. “A pin?” she said, clearly expecting something more dramatic.

  “I think this will aid you the best and for the longest,” I assured her.

  Still frowning slightly, she tucked the pin into her long, unruly hair, the accessory fitting effortlessly, as if it had always belonged there. She paused. I saw it, the moment of hesitation, the tiny crease in her brow as something… shifted. “I… I’m not sure what this is…”

  Then she shared the item’s details; only about half of recruits did so far.

  NightSwallow tilted her head, chewing absently on the blade of grass in her mouth as she examined the details. “It does exactly what it says it does,” I smirked. “You’ll have an easier time finding dungeons with this pin. Isn’t that exactly what you want?”

  Her brows furrowed, and for the first time since she waltzed into this ceremony, her easy confidence faltered. “But…” she hesitated, clearly thrown off, “the item description is super ambiguous?”

  Oh. She didn’t know.

  I let a gentle smile slip through, shaking my head. “All legendary items are like that,” I explained, watching as a few nods of agreement spread through players in the room. “So, if this is new information for anyone, don’t freak out when you get a vague item description. I think I once even saw it on an epic item.”

  Her expression flickered, like she filed that knowledge away for later. Then, without another word, she just exhaled, popped another fresh blade of grass into her mouth, and sauntered back to her spot, completely unbothered.

  I inhaled, ready to ask if anyone else was willing to join, but I never got the chance.

  Because suddenly… “I WANNA!” A blur of white and silver shot forward, so quick and energetic that for a split second, my brain failed to catch up.

  Lunaris.

  She had jumped forward with the force of an overenthusiastic bar visitor, her silver hair bouncing as she dashed toward the throne, eyes wide with excitement. I barely had time to process her energy before she practically skidded to a stop, practically buzzing with anticipation.

  “I solemnly swear that I’m a good person!” she declared, placing a hand over her chest with absolute sincerity.

  Oh no.

  Oh no, she had rehearsed this.

  “I swear I’ll fight in the name of Eeleim, with honor and for glory!”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Oh gods, she was so serious.

  As if remembering something crucial, her eyes widened, and in a sudden dramatic flourish, she dropped to one knee, lowering her head in what was, honestly, a beautifully executed bow.

  Then, with a voice dripping in seriousness, she recited, word-for-word. “I pledge my blades, my strength, and my spirit to the cause! May my victories bring honor, and my fall be met with pride!”

  The room fell into a stunned silence, and I saw Lola inhale sharply next to me, no doubt on the verge of emotional tears.

  Someone in the back whispered a quiet, ‘wow.’

  I just… Stared.

  What. The. Hell.

  I was so caught off guard I almost forgot to respond.

  “Lunaris…” At the sound of her name, she lifted her head eagerly, her bright, expectant eyes locked onto mine, practically buzzing with anticipation. I couldn’t fail her. I scrambled together every ounce of role-playing knowledge I had—half-forgotten imperial court formalities, grand declarations from old quests, even bits and pieces of historical dramas I never thought I’d actually use.

  Then, inhaling deeply, I straightened, and when I spoke, my voice carried the weight of something far more official than I’d ever meant it to. “I accept your oath, young Lunaris. May your honor not waver, your glory not blind you, and may both your swords find a purpose beyond mere battle.”

  A spark of joy ignited in her eyes, her whole expression lighting up like I’d just handed her the entire world wrapped in silk. I couldn’t help it. I beamed back at her. “To support you in this vital task, I’ve chosen a gift meant just for you,” I continued, reaching into my inventory and pulling out an item. “Use it well,” I said, handing her a cape.

  I hadn’t realized that the moment I handed it to her, a snowflake crest would be inscribed into the fabric itself, etched in bold silver glory. So, somehow, I’d ruined a marvel-tier item with my own branding.

  Great.

  Because who else but me would want to wear something so blatantly personalized? “Sorry, it… Somehow has my snowflake…” I whispered apologetically. But Lunaris’s reaction was instant.

  Her eyes widened so much that for a moment, I thought she might actually vibrate out of sheer excitement.

  She wasted no time, sweeping the cloak over her shoulders, fastening it with practiced ease. The silver-lined fabric flowed behind her like liquid moonlight, draping over her small frame with an elegance that made it look tailor-made for her.

  Then, without hesitation, she shared the item’s details with the room.

  “What?” The word blurted out of me before I could stop it. Because when I had handed it to her, it had been [6-Marvel] tier.

  [Phantomwoven Duelist Cloak].

  Not. Legendary.

  A wave of silence crashed over the room. Lunaris, bless her, just ran her fingers over the fabric, visibly basking in the moment. I, meanwhile, was having a mild existential crisis. Yes, I’d heard rumors about this happening in the game. There were stories on the forums about items mysteriously upgrading in response to player actions.

  But this?

  I wasn’t sure if this was luck, a glitch, or some terrifying, hidden system mechanic that no one fully understood or… exploited yet. Still, there was only one thing I could think to say. I exhaled, staring at the shimmering cloak before turning my gaze back to the stunned crowd. “Apparently, the system upgrades items… if you’re sincere.”

  Katherine let out a low whistle.

  And just like that, the room erupted into frantic whispers and hushed theories. The sound of a hundred players suddenly reevaluating every quest reward and interaction they’d ever had.

  Lunaris, however, was too busy twirling in her new cloak, grinning like she had just unlocked the secret to happiness itself. I pressed a hand to my temple, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming.

  “So, ‘key, I’m next!” Katherine stepped forward, hands braced on her hips, a grin tugging at her lips. “Yar decent.” That was… probably a compliment. “So I’ll like pledge to ya. Ya now mine liege or somethin’, right?”

  Of course, the system immediately accepted that.

  I shook my head, letting out an amused breath. “Thank you, Kit… Katherine, for, uh, your pledge,” I said, trying to keep my voice respectful but failing to suppress my smile. Her brows raised slightly at the near-slip of her nickname, but she didn’t call me out on it. Instead, she just grinned wider, waiting.

  Right. Gift time.

  I reached into my inventory, fingers brushing against the sturdy leather belt I had set aside just for her. The enchantment enhanced the raw strength behind sword strikes. With a fluid motion, I handed it over. “Let me give you this.”

  Katherine took the belt, running her fingers over the reinforced leather, giving it an approving nod. “Oh, yea, nice! Thanks!” Then, without hesitation, she turned on her heel and trudged back toward her spot, already fastening the belt around her waist.

  The crowd stirred, some whispering, others clearly expecting a shared item window.

  Nothing.

  She didn’t bother displaying the stats, didn’t gloat, didn’t even comment on its effects. Just a simple thanks, an acknowledgment, and done. Some people looked disappointed, but I respected that. Katherine wasn’t the type to flaunt what she had. She just used it. Before the silence could stretch, another voice cut through the air.

  “I’ll go next.” Techi Llama. He wasn’t loud, but the moment he spoke, heads turned. There was a certain presence to him, not the kind that demanded attention, but one that naturally drew it. His footsteps were measured, the heavy clank of his plate armor deliberate. Every movement was efficient, controlled.

  Even now, as he walked toward me, there was an ease to him—like this was just another step in a well-thought-out plan. Strapped to his broad back was a large shield, and a spear rested comfortably in his grip, the shaft sturdy. “I wasn’t sure, but peeps like you, and I itch to do something,” he said, voice calm, level, the same even cadence I had heard in his videos.

  No unnecessary words. No theatrics. Just straight to the point. “I swear to honor your words.”

  The system chimed.

  There it was—that same efficiency that defined his entire style.

  “Don’t forget about me!” A voice rang out confidently. Scamantha. She strolled up toward the throne, her steps light, deliberate. “I’d like some freebies too,” she added with zero shame, tossing her blonde braid over her shoulder like she had just declared something noble and selfless.

  I narrowed my eyes, watching her with thinly veiled suspicion. Oh, I knew exactly who she was. One of the best when it came to finding rare resources, uncovering obscure mechanics, sniffing out hidden exploits.

  But also…

  Famously infamous. She had once sold information for a legendary quest—an exclusive, one-time-only quest—to ten different people. That had ended in a forum-wide disaster, complete with public outrage, digital pitchforks, and at least two people swearing to hunt her down IRL.

  Or, my personal favorite, the time she sold coordinates for an incredibly rare ore deposit, conveniently forgetting to mention that it was half a mile underground in an active lava cavern.

  So, yeah.

  She was useful, sure.

  But trustworthy?

  Ehh…

  Scamantha flashed me an affable grin, clearly unbothered by my obvious hesitation. “So, I’d like to also join!” she announced, throwing her arms wide as if she were gracing me with her presence.

  Lola, standing dutifully behind me, let out the softest sigh, just enough that I knew she was already preparing for the inevitable headache. I crossed my arms, tilting my head. “Scamantha,” I said, my tone casual, “are you here to actually help?”

  Her grin widened.

  “Define help.”

  I barely had time to open my mouth before the ground lurched beneath us. Brilliant, blinding light erupted from windows, swallowing the chamber in an explosion of white. Before I could react, my newly appointed personal guard snapped into action.

  Armor clanked, boots pounded against the marble floor as they formed a protective ring around me, shields raised, weapons drawn.

  “What’s going on?!” I shouted over the noise. Mila was already on the move, his expression stone-cold, calculating, eyes locked onto the nearest guard rushing toward him.

  The soldier skidded to a halt, breathless, gripping his spear tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. He whispered something hurriedly, too low for me to catch, but whatever it was, it sent Mila moving immediately.

  He turned toward me, barely slowing his stride as he barked out:

  “We’re under attack!”