Bremer's cells were crowded with criminals. Among the more than thirty prisoners were the avatars of players who had broken the law. One of them was Bartov, the only one still connected to the game.

  He was sitting and tapping his foot against the damp stone floor when someone approached the cells. The figure was dressed in a brown leather outfit, with a long cape and a hood thrown back. It was a girl with long, straight blond hair. She stared at Bartov and sighed disapprovingly.

  "What have you done this time?" she asked.

  "It was that damn druid. The guy was a veteran pretending to be a newbie, but he had help from a hunter.”

  "Do you know their names?"

  "Yeah, I took some pictures of the mess, let me send them to you." Bartov opened the game menu and sent the files to the hooded girl.

  "Did you lose to them?"

  Bartov got up from the wooden bench where he was sitting, walked over to the cell bars, and replied, "No, of course not. The baroness and those sons of bitches from the city guard came to help. If it weren't for that, I would’ve finished them off.”

  "The game was over the moment he discovered your lousy, counterfeit drink. It doesn't matter if you had killed them. They would have been reborn in no time. They're still novices, and you would have been marked as a Player Killer." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Our partnership ends here. Your establishment will return to our guild."

  Bartov grabbed the bars of the cell and shook them in despair.

  "B-but... you promised you'd help me if anything happened."

  "We did promise, but you're the one to blame for being behind bars. We can't protect you from your own stupidity."

  "You can't do this to me, not after I paid a fortune for that inn. It's mine, mine!" the tavern owner finished shouting.

  "It was a simple concession..."

  "I need that inn to keep playing. I have no future as a warrior. I'm crap at combat."

  "What did you do before renting our inn?"

  "I bought honey in a village in the kingdom of Ardélia and sold it in this region. Please don't make me go back to that life. It's an hour's walk from here to there; an hour in the real world."

  "That's not our problem," she concluded, turning her back on him.

  "Havoc, I beg you!" Bartov yelled at the top of his lungs, but she was gone.

  ***

  After a long and tiring walk along trails and roads, Ragnar stopped in front of the front gate of the city of Salem. At that moment, he remembered Bjorn’s story.

  This was the city where Mergraff had established his reign of terror.

  But as he walked through the streets, all he saw was peace and prosperity. The flow of people passing by was twenty times greater than in the city of Bremer, but unlike there, here you could see the undead everywhere.

  There were vampires dressed from head to toe to protect themselves from the sun, zombies shuffling their feet on the cobblestones of the street, skeletons running back and forth, and dozens of revenant knights sitting outside taverns arguing about which of them had the most miserable life.

  It's the liveliest and most cheerful city of the dead I've ever seen, Ragnar reflected, walking down a street of red brick houses. As he turned a corner, two warriors from a familiar guild appeared on the horizon. He backed away and spied on them from behind the wall of a small house.

  The Black Paw warriors left. Ragnar sighed with relief, waited a little longer, and resumed his walk, taking care not to bump into other bigwigs from the guild.

  Luckily, he managed to reach Artisans' Street safely. As its name suggested, this was an area of workshops, studios, and laboratories where professionals and artists could work in peace.

  The alchemy laboratory was located in the back, far from the smoke of the forges and noises coming from the theaters where bards rehearsed their music. Ragnar set foot in the establishment, the rotten smell of failed potions permeating the air. A young human with blue hair came to meet him.

  "Alchemist, do you need help with anything?"

  "No, thank you," replied the druid.

  "Very well, feel free to use the stations in our laboratory."

  Ragnar thanked him and headed to the next room, a spacious, open area with a dozen long tables where the alchemy instruments were kept. Almost all the stations were occupied, the only free one was at the back.

  With no other option, he went there and sat down on the bench, leaned over the table, picked up a wooden bowl, and placed two leaves of Aloe Veraluna in it, the rare plant he had harvested to exhaustion at the Iron Bears' Refuge.

  Although the container was large, the whitish leaf was even larger. To make matters worse, his workstation lacked equipment. He stretched to the side and asked the alchemist on his right:

  "Can you lend me a knife and a pestle?"

  The druidess with long, curly green hair replied cheerfully:

  "Help yourself."

  With the tools he needed at his disposal, Ragnar laid a sheet of Aloe Veraluna on a wooden board, then used the knife to peel it until only the transparent membrane holding the liquid remained, which proved to be a challenge in itself because the foliage was so tough.

  The druidess stared at him with a curious look.

  Ragnar folded the membrane inside the bowl to make it fit, but when he let go, it unfolded immediately, half of it sticking out of the container. He ignored the plant's act of rebellion and tried to crush it with the borrowed masher, but the leaf bravely resisted all his efforts.

  "Damn it," he cursed, gritting his teeth.

  Then he grumbled after his hundredth attempt, standing on the stool, holding the masher with both hands to squeeze the membrane in order to extract its juice.

  By then, the entire alchemy lab had gathered around. Each one suggested a different solution, but Ragnar knew that none of them would work.

  An idea popped into his head.

  "Stand back," he warned everybody.

  The small crowd took a step back.

  "Further, much further," he insisted.

  The spectators moved away until the expression on his face changed from angry to calm. Ragnar conjured the Storm's Wrath, making his body emit electrical discharges around him. Then he put his index finger to his lips, asking the spectators not to report him to the city guard for misuse of magic in a public space.

  With his electrified hand, he wielded the masher and struck it hard against the membrane of Aloe Veraluna, breaking it apart. The plant's juice dripped into the center of the bowl, flowing like a spring.

  "Fuck yeah!" he celebrated, and then turned to the audience. "Sorry for the language."

  Everyone chuckled and began to applaud his success. Ragnar repeated the process for all of the more than two hundred Aloe Veraluna leaves. His inventory now contained two hundred units of juice and plant bark.

  He went to the alchemist NPC who ran the laboratory and spent his savings buying basic alchemy reagents, then returned to his station and began experimenting with all kinds of recipes.

  Each recipe produced provided a little experience for its creation, and if it was the first time creating it, the experience gained tripled. Ragnar created more than thirty different potions, elixirs, and drugs, then a message appeared.

  Your proficiency in Alchemy has advanced to the Intermediate stage.

  Intermediate recipes unlocked

  You received 10 points in Magical Power and Magical Talent

  This motivated him to continue experimenting, as advancing a profession unlocked a myriad of new items to be created or discovered.

  The crowd continued to watch him. Ragnar tried everything with the Aloe Veraluna: he soaked it, froze it, grated it, toasted it, burned it, ionized it, and even tried to smoke it with the pipe given to him by the green-haired druidess, but none of that had any effect.

  Just as he was about to give up on creating something new, he insisted once more, taking a glass jar and pouring the plant's juice into it, then heating the container by lighting a small flame on the stone countertop.

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  The liquid began to bubble. Ragnar added fragments of Purple Herb, then added Orchid Specter bran. After mixing the combination, a bell rang to announce its success.

  Unprecedented recipe discovered

  Congratulations, you have discovered the recipe for Dracula Factor Sunscreen

  His heart stopped for a moment, his vision blurred, then the euphoria of discovery made him shout in celebration. He looked at the crowd and was speechless to see that they were also thrilled by his success.

  A worrying thought flooded his mind. All those people had witnessed the process of creating an unprecedented item. And if anyone among them had paid attention to what he was doing, that person would know what ingredients and processes were used in its creation.

  Purple Herb was a common plant, widely used in alchemy. Orchid Specter was more difficult to obtain because it grew in few places, but the main ingredient, Aloe Veraluna, had never been mentioned in the game, so much so that it was not yet listed in official databases and catalogs or guides created by players.

  It was certain that the plant was still a secret, and he would keep it that way.

  When his attention returned to the game world, Ragnar was surprised to see that the commotion had not yet subsided. Dozens of people in the laboratory were talking loudly, some even dancing to the rhythm of the clapping of a dozen adventurers.

  Something grabbed his right arm, and when he saw who it was, he came face to face with the wide brown eyes of a dark-haired wizard, who said, "Will you teach me the recipe?"

  "No," Ragnar cut him off immediately.

  The answer made the wizard grimace and start to grumble. That wouldn't be a problem; disappointing strangers was something he was used to doing since his heyday as Dante. The problem was that the wizard turned his back on him and shouted, "He won't share the recipe with us!"

  Dozens of players came to meet him, some begging, but the rest just cursing. The confusion grew as more people joined the dissatisfied crowd. It wasn't long before they started pushing each other.

  The crowd in the lab turned into a rebellious mob that surged forward like a wave, pushing Ragnar against the bench.

  His health points dropped to less than half. Alerts began flashing, warning him that he could fight back against these people without being punished by the system.

  Ragnar struggled to get away from the crowd, elbowing anyone in his path in the face, ribs, and chest, but the mob persisted.

  "GET AWAY FROM ME!" he shouted in anger, but nothing happened.

  There was no other way, so he appealed, transforming himself into an iron bear, hurling everyone away. Bodies crashed into lab equipment, shattering glass vials, splintering countertops.

  Dozens of people fell on the sharp glass shards. Many had their clothes damaged, while the weaker ones suffered cuts and punctures that bled, staining the floor red.

  In less than a minute, a pair of guards appeared to investigate the commotion. Two skeletons wearing chain mail. The one on the right, carrying a long halberd in his bony hands, spoke in his thin, irritating voice, "What the hell happened here?"

  "They were bothering me, I just fought back," Ragnar replied in his human form.

  "Is that true?" asked the skeleton on the left, carrying a wooden club.

  The druidess with long green hair looked at Ragnar, who stared back at her with a reproachful look.

  "Yes," she admitted in a guilty tone.

  The skeletons stared at each other—despite not having eyes—shrugged, and walked away. Gradually, the players who had fallen to the ground got up, but they didn't leave. They remained standing, waiting for something.

  "Don't let this happen again," Ragnar scolded them.

  Heads bowed, and they departed, except for the druidess, who came up to him to ask:

  "Your bear form is incredible... how did you get it?"

  "It's a secret, just like the item I made."

  She pouted.

  "Ungrateful jerk." She turned and walked away.

  Ragnar took a deep breath and contemplated the mess that the laboratory had become. The establishment's employee appeared with a broom in his hand, making him feel sorry for his fate.

  Thank goodness he's an NPC.

  As his alchemy station had been destroyed during the riot, Ragnar headed to one of the intact stations near the entrance. While the employee swept the floor, he began manufacturing Dracula Factor Sunscreens. A total of twelve units were produced. He would have created more, but the stock of Purple Herbs run out.

  However, before returning to Bremer and the Serpent's Lair to replenish his stock of alchemical ingredients, Ragnar decided to assess the price of the mysterious item.

  He left the alchemy lab behind and visited every store on the block. As expected, each place offered a different price, the highest being 22 rubros per unit.

  Ragnar persisted, even though Salem was a large city, he continued to visit every store and vendor on his way. After hours of wandering, already desperate, he entered a magic goods store. The place was spacious, clean, and the products for sale were displayed on shelves, bookcases, and mahogany display cases.

  "Can I help you?" asked the vampire behind the counter.

  Ragnar turned to face him, his pale skin would make Dracula jealous, his long, black, straight hair giving him a snobbish look, enhanced by a prominent nose.

  "Yes, you can," began the druid. "I have something that might interest you."

  "Really?"

  The vampire came out from behind the counter and approached him. Ragnar took out a bottle of sunscreen and handed it to the shopkeeper, who took it in his hands, removed the lid, and sniffed it.

  "It smells like aloe vera, only... milder, with refreshing hints sprinkled with an overwhelming strength."

  "It's not perfume, it's sunscreen."

  The vampire frowned.

  "It's to protect your skin from the sun," Ragnar explained, having an idea. "You know what? This sample is free. Put the product on your skin and see for yourself how it will protect you from the sun."

  The vampire growled like a frightened cat. That reaction was logical, after all, it was like asking a human being to rub ointment on their arm and then put it in the flames of a bonfire. It would take a very powerful argument to convince him that the filter would revolutionize his life, or afterlife.

  "I bet a thousand rubros that this filter won't burn your skin in the sun."

  The shopkeeper shook his head in denial, but made a counteroffer:

  "I'll take the risk if you bet your spear."

  Ragnar wielded the Viper’s Ruin. It was an epic item of unique beauty, and although it was becoming outdated, he did not want to part with it before finding a worthy replacement. However, his instinct told him that this was a unique opportunity.

  And since Ragnar always trusted his instincts, he replied:

  "It's a deal."

  The vampire smiled, exposing his yellowed teeth. He turned the bottle upside down and let the cream fall onto his right forearm, then spread it around. The two walked outside, where the sun was hiding behind the tallest buildings in the city.

  Covered in a cloak and black hood, the vampire stretched out his arm, exposing it to a sliver of light shining through the boards covering the facade. Then he used his right hand, gloved in leather, to pull the sleeve of the cloak covering his left arm. The fabric folded up to his elbow, exposing his skin to the fearsome rays of the setting sun.

  He squealed.

  Ragnar panicked. Those seconds felt like they lasted for minutes, and the two minutes that passed lasted an eternity for each of them. Both had a lot to lose in the experiment.

  "It worked," the vampire couldn't believe his own words. His arm was intact, without a single mark.

  "Yes, it worked," said the druid.

  "IT WORKED!" they shouted, embracing each other.

  "Pleasure, my name is Sinistro Von Klevic. I am a sorcerer, member of the Society of Undead Poets. And I want your entire stock of this magnificent sunscreen right now. I offer 600 rubros per dozen, take it or leave it."

  Ragnar leaned on the vampire and whispered in his ear:

  "Deal, but I'll need a couple of days to gather the necessary materials. I promise to deliver a hundred units by tomorrow night."

  They sealed the deal with a handshake. The vampire returned to the store and Ragnar ran off to find more materials.

  ***

  Two days passed in New Avalon. Ragnar took advantage of his free time to harvest the last crop of herbs growing in his garden bed in Bremer's vegetable garden. Then he went to the entrance of the Serpent's Lair to harvest the last batch of Orchid Specters that had just bloomed.

  However, to his disappointment, that would not be enough to produce the hundred sunscreens requested by the vampire Sinistro.

  To get around the problem, he spent his savings buying the remaining herbs in stores around Salem. As expected, the purple herb was cheap, while the Orchid Specter cost more than triple that.

  Back at Sinistro's magic shop, Ragnar deposited the more than one hundred sunscreens in the store's warehouse. Before completing the transaction, the vampire picked up a random bottle and tested it to gauge its quality.

  "All right," announced the shopkeeper. "Here are the 6,000 rubros I promised. When you have more of this beauty, you know who to look for."

  As the druid was about to leave, a dozen vampires entered the store.

  "Is it here yet?" said the man leading the group, removing his hood to reveal his short red hair.

  "Yes, he made it," said Sinistro Van Klevic, pointing to Ragnar.

  The red-haired vampire hugged him.

  "Thank you, Master Druid. You don't know how overjoyed I was when I learned I could walk during the day again."

  The demand for sunscreen earned him a massive amount of experience points. And because it was a product that would revolutionize the lives of Salem's vampires, Ragnar received enough reputation points to advance his relationship with the whole city.

  Your reputation with the City of Bremer advanced from Neutral to Respected.

  You have evolved to level 13

  The points received were distributed in Magical Talent to reduce the mana cost of all spells.

  Your relationship with the city has advanced two stages at once.

  By default, a player's reputation would first evolve from "neutral" to "friend," and only after completing a series of missions would it advance from "friend" to "respected." As the name implied, the "respected" reputation implied a bond of admiration from the city to the player's avatar.

  The troupe of vampires surrounded Ragnar to praise him for the great service he was providing. At first, he found it amusing, but minutes later it reached a point where he was getting annoyed with such flattery, but before all patience ran out, they stopped inflating his ego and went to the store counter to chat with Sinistro.

  Ragnar still had no intention of leaving the store, as he wanted to take a look at the magical items for sale. He stopped in front of a dark wooden bookcase where dozens of thick books were neatly arranged and organized.

  He had his back turned when a swordswoman entered the establishment.

  "So, it's true," she announced, drawing her sword.

  Ragnar looked toward the front door and saw the lieutenant of the Black Paw guild.

  "What do you want from me?" he said contemptuously.

  "I want you to pay the twenty thousand rubros you owe us for all the damage to our establishment."

  "Twenty thousand? That's outrageous."

  "You're not going to pay?"

  "No."

  Havoc leaped forward, placed her right foot on a display case and propelled herself upward, in midair, using her Charge ability to advance five meters in the blink of an eye, facing Ragnar, she brought the blade of her sword down toward his chest.

  A sharp thud filled the room as the hilt of Viper's Ruin blocked the blow. Ragnar stepped back, ready to retaliate, but the swordswoman's arms and legs were trapped by chains coming out of two small portals that appeared behind her.

  "Let me go, you damn vampire," she roared furiously, trying to break free.

  "You attacked one of my suppliers. He may be a human like you, but he has proven himself to be a great friend to the undead community. So, if you didn't come here to purchase one of my products, then leave my establishment."

  Sinistro snapped his fingers, and the chains binding Havoc crumbled. She fell to the floor but managed to land on her feet. With a furious expression on her face, she said, "You must be joking, we rule this town." Then he turned to face the druid. "Don't think you've gotten away with this, we're watching you. Next time will be different, just wait and see."

  She turned her back and left the store.

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