Chapter 141 Disappearance: Buried In The Texts Of History

Arthur’s disappearance from the tower caused the matter about him clearing the 22nd level of the First Floor to fade away. No one discussed it, while many considered the man to have perished.

A few people suspected the Divine Rankers of the suppression, but Arthur scoffed at the group, bewildered by the notion. Many would attempt to suppress him in the future, and avoiding such a calamity was Arthur’s purpose.

His disappearance was partly due to his achievement.

It caused more chaos than Arthur anticipated, resulting in discussions about a possible, new Divine Ranker. A few tried to approach him on the First Floor, resulting in him running away from the central part of the floor.

However, that was not the main reason for his disappearance.

Exploitation was the reason.

Apparently, according to a certain legend Arthur came across during his former life, a player discovered the inheritance of a High Ranker in Gargo Village. The matter–during his previous life–caused a lot of chaos.

But how could the inheritance of a High Ranker cause such chaos?

It was due to the identity of the High Ranker himself; Baron Of Death. The Baron Of Death was merely a High Ranker, yet his influence was on par, if not higher than most Divine Rankers of today’s age.

He was the epitome of necromancy, and the one who single-handedly caused necromancy to rise in popularity, eventually evolving into a well-renowned path of power. Necromancers were not too uncommon in the tower, and could occasionally be found.

Therefore, the Baron Of Death was regarded as the Founding Ancestor of Necromancy.

‘Another failure,’ thought Arthur, circulating mana across his body to heal his wounds. The stabilization of the Blessing of Sun was incredibly difficult. Usually, one could easily achieve the feat.

However, due to Arthur’s low mana reserve and weak constitution, along with a lack of versatility in his arsenal, the stabilization was practically impossible. However, he couldn’t give up at this point.

Eventually, the pressure would corrode his mana circuits.

Such an outcome would be a disaster, and would ruin all progress consisting of the use of mana.

‘I cannot let that happen,’ thought the crimson-eyed man, pulling his head back. He collapsed on the ground, staring blankly at the ceiling, which could crumble at any moment. The village was truly underdeveloped.

Currently, Arthur resided in an old woman’s home. For the villagers, the crimson-eyed man was an orphan, someone who had lost his parents and eventually ended up on the First Floor of the tower.

By making an excuse about the deaths of his party members along with his family, it wasn’t difficult to act like an unfortunate, poor soul.

“Are you okay in there, child?” A soft, gentle, yet croaky voice entered the hut, startling the crimson-eyed man. The voice belonged to the old lady whom the hut belonged to. Arthur found her to be incredibly kind.

Not only did she offer her second residence to Arthur, but she also prepared home-made meals every day.

It had only been a few days since he arrived, yet he was already developing a sense of familiarity with the village and the old lady. Arthur shook his head violently, burying the thoughts at the back of his mind.

He needed to be ready to murder anyone and everyone in the village.

Growing close to one while seeking for profits was a grave mistake. One could either prioritize those he valued, or the benefits he would eventually receive. One could not prioritize both simultaneously.

‘If there comes a time when I have to murder this old lady, I have to be ready.’

Arthur nodded calmly. “Everything is fine, Aunt Isabella!”

The crimson-eyed man mustered the most innocent voice he would release, uttering such words with the utmost devotion to his character.

Everyone in the village was a former player, and could not be underestimated. Although they had grown old, they still retained a percentage of their instincts from their prime. Arthur could not rely on mere tricks.

He could not enter a gruesome battle, either; especially during the period of time in which he was most vulnerable. He could not exert himself too much, as that would result in the collapse of his mana circuits.

Arthur quickly organized his belongings. The old lady knocked on the door a few times before entering the hut.

Isabella was a short woman with an enormous amount of wrinkles coating her skin. She was quite chubby, but could maneuver quite well using her stiff body. She was quick on her feet, and still athletic, even to this day.

Her hair was heavily oiled, combed perfectly into a bun. A magenta hair clip tied the bun together, preventing it from loosening. A line ran through her hair, separating it from the center until the end.

Her eyes were upturned, although her wrinkles masked it. Her eyelids were on the verge of closing due to the excess skin surrounding the area. Her nose was tiny, akin to a stray cat, while her lips were a deep shade of cherry-red.

She wore a navy blouse along with gray trousers, which heavily contradicted the grandma-like image she portrayed. In her hands–which were filled with calluses–was a lunch box especially prepared for Arthur, whom she pitied.

“Did you stay awake all night, again?” Isabella inquired, narrowing her eyes as she placed her fist on her hip. She lowered her head, staring into Arthur’s guilty eyes before letting out a gentle chuckle. “Dawn has arrived. Eat this and freshen up.”

She placed the lunch box on a nearby desk, waving lightly before leaving the hut. Arthur sniffed the lunch box, allowing a faint smile to blossom upon his face. The lunch box radiated a pleasant scent.

Arthur predicted that the meal consisted of chicken breast and light seasonings. Arthur preferred heavy seasonings that were capable of burning one’s anus, but alas, such a underdeveloped village did not possess such ingredients.

He calmly lifted the lid to the lunch box.

The lunch was incredibly tasty.

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