Atlas Studios

  Atlas Studios

  Andrew’s jealousy had reached an uncontrollable level. Though his complaint against Sherlock would cause severe diplomatic repercussions, he was unable to unload the cart of lemons in his heart and control the exploding feelings of jealousy.

  According to normal circumstances, mysterious and strong superior Devils like Sherlock should be his allies.

  Andrew’s complaint letter was simple. He described the contest situation and the 2,000 Goblins and Gnomes who took part in the tournament. Lord Sherlock, who was their master, didn’t care about their safety or lives. There were massive casualties, and only slightly more than a hundred survived out of the original 2,000!

  As the situation sounded desperate, the Union responded immediately.

  The Union started an investigation on the recruitment practices of Eternal Kingdom and discovered that only Simba, Moroes, Mufasa, and Brainiac were registered employees.

  Simba and Mufasa were recruited via the Merchant Alliance, while Moroes was directly employed.

  As Brainiac was a Lich and belonged to the Undead race, he wasn’t under the purview of the Union and was merely a registrant.

  The Union didn’t have the employment records of Eternal Kingdom. Were the 2,000 Goblins and Gnomes not registered under the Union? That was impossible!

  Andrew received a reply letter from the Union:

  “To Lord Andrew”


  “Dearest Lord Andrew:

  Eternal Kingdom doesn’t have 2,000 employees, there are only four recorded employees. Please don’t make false allegations, as we are very busy.”


  Andrew crushed the short letter after reading it. He looked at Sherlock’s ascending Airship, which was leaving the contest ground, with extreme jealousy. He thought angrily,

  Sherlock was on the Airship. He threw a glance at Andrew, not bothered by him at all.

  “Lord Sherlock, I thought you would stay in Winterfell for a few days for the Dark Rider Tournament. This is a large Plot! I didn’t expect you to let them fight among themselves after they defeated all other opponents. Tsk, tsk, you could have made the Plot last longer by letting some strong opponents survive and then making the gamers prepare for subsequent rounds.” Bru’s voice rang by Sherlock’s ear.

  “Why would I do that? If I let non-gamers proceed to the subsequent round, wouldn’t they win? Why did I provide the gamers with unlimited Mana? For my personal enjoyment? That’s 100,000 Magic Stones at stake.”


  Bru said immediately, “No, the gamers have always treated you as the lousy game producer who would create a startling manipulation in the Dark Rider event, like making an NPC the winner. Then you wouldn’t need to give out the Legendary Equipment and would deceive the gamers into working their livers off. In fact, some gamers are speculating that the game producer has changed or that the event was penned by another person.”


  “Is that so? If I canceled their Legendary Equipment, would they be happy?” Sherlock asked.

  “No, don’t do that, that would cause massive rage quitting. If the game’s management is unable to fulfill the promises, that is worse than a ruthless game producer,” Bru said earnestly.

  “Then there’s nothing much to be said. The Dark Rider Tournament is a money-gifting farce. Onionhead is using the tournament to raise his prestige. There might be changes in the future, but I’m not affected and not interested. Andrew has strong capabilities, but he depends on his jealousy to increase his power. I’m not bothered by him.” Sherlock pondered and asked, “How is the gamer Marco Polo doing recently?”


  “His performance is satisfactory. He’s following our instructions to complete his Hidden Mission. Why didn’t Lord Sherlock bring him back to Eternal Kingdom instead of leaving him in Winterfell?” Bru asked curiously.

  “Because he’s my laboratory rat. I’m not sure how the gamers are going to make money for me once they enter Winterfell. Marco Polo is a good candidate to continue my research since I need more test data. The Hidden Mission is a good leash on him,” Sherlock said in an authoritative tone.

  “I understand, Lord Sherlock.”
……

  In a Blacksmith Shop of Winterfell.

  A Blackiron Dwarf was using a Magic Furnace to forge a tool that looked like a Hammer.

  Beside him was a Gnome who was passing him various tools swiftly.

  The scene looked like a harmonious picture of a mentor and an apprentice, but after careful scrutiny, it could be seen that the Gnome had strange green words above his head. They weren’t in the common Underworld language, they were Chinese words used in the otherworld, “Marco Polo”.

  “Pom, pom!”


  The Dwarf Blacksmith hammered a few times and finished forging his tool. He looked on with satisfaction before shouting in his hoarse voice, “Great, we completed another order!”


  He put the tool into a chest by the side. The chest was filled with various similar tools.

  Marco Polo took out a book and started recording.

  The Dwarf Blacksmith sat down and took out a metal stick. He ignited the stick using the fire from the furnace and put it to his mouth. There were sizzling sounds and some green smoke.

  The Dwarf smoked happily and looked at Marco Polo as he asked, “Polo, your name is pretty good. Did your parents give you your name? It’s very macho.”


  “Ah, I gave myself this name,” Marco Polo said warily.

  As a gamer, after being put at a disadvantage due to his blabbering mouth, Marco Polo was now careful with his words, especially when he was exploiting the BUG to stay in Winterfell.

  He didn’t dare to get injured or die. He ate and slept on time daily. He had a more disciplined life in the game than in reality.

  “Hmm, that’s pretty good.” The Dwarf smoked the sizzling metal stick and puffed out smoke rings. He smiled and said, “Yes, I heard you’re from Eternal Kingdom. Isn’t Eternal Kingdom a good place? I heard Lord Sherlock is a capable Dungeon Lord. Why did you escape?”


  “Escape? No, no, no. Why would I escape Eternal Kingdom? I’m here to make money with the permission of Lord Sherlock. I have a Daily Special Mission.” Marco Polo had a slip of the tongue, quickly realizing that he had made a mistake.

  The Dwarf was taken aback and asked, “Special Mission? What mission?”


  “No, no Special Mission.” Marco Polo looked around and said softly, “Lord Sherlock wanted me to train myself in Winterfell as he has heavy responsibilities for me.”


  “Oh, that’s pretty good. It’s a pity you aren’t staying here for long. I admire you for being more diligent than other creatures.”


  The Dwarf nodded, passed a card to Marco Polo, and said, “Here, this is the new Magic Stone card that I helped you apply for. This is also your salary for half a month.”


  Marco Polo obtained the card excitedly from the Dwarf. The game system sounds rang in his head:

  [Ding, congratulations on completing the preparatory Hidden Mission, First Pot of Gold.]

  [Ding, you are receiving the new preparatory Hidden Mission, Steady Yourself.]