Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game

It was 3:30 p.m. on Earth, but it was six in the early morning in-game. The original leader of the Sacred Crows bandit gang, "Razor" Hal Maxwell, emerged from his tent and surveyed his surroundings expressionlessly.

The designated construction site for the Adventurer's Guild had transformed from an abandoned block into a bustling construction site. The guild's hall, still under construction, was surrounded by iron pipes and a net made of an unknown material (it was actually just scaffolding). Half-meter-deep foundations had also been dug out for the living area meant for job instructors.

Given the enthusiasm these eerie undead had for "work," Hal reckoned that he might be able to move out of his cramped tent in another half month or so.

However, he didn't feel the least bit happy about such a thing.

On the contrary, as construction progressed, Hal's heart got colder. He was in his thirties and had no intention of sacrificing his whole life in this godforsaken wasteland, surrounded by a bunch of skeletons, zombies, and an evil black mage!

A few skeletons with strange squarish characters floating above their heads passed by, and one of them glanced at Hal who was standing before his tent.

Hal remained motionless, his hand slowly inching toward the hilt of his trusty longsword.

The player lowered his head, glanced at the game time displayed by the system, and, realizing it was not yet time to disturb Hal, continued to chat with his companions as they walked away.

A disappointed Hal released his grip on the sword hilt…

These strange undead were indeed becoming smarter, making it increasingly difficult for him to find "legitimate" opportunities to strike them down.

Sighing, Hal picked up some breakfast ingredients and headed to Tuttle's tent.

Tuttle Joe, who was born into a good family, was the most meticulous among them when it came to the finer details of life. With the same ingredients, Tuttle always managed to create more delicious dishes than anyone else. It had become a habit for Hal and the treasure expert, Finley, who was also situated at this construction site, to gather at Tuttle's place for meals.

"Morning, Hal."

Finley, who stayed nearer to Tuttle, was already there with a carton of milk in his hand and casually greeted Hal when the latter arrived.

"Morning, Finley. Tuttle, this is for you," Hal placed his paper bag of ingredients beside Tuttle, who was busy preparing breakfast, then sat down on a stool next to Finley.

"Want some milk? There's still some left." Finley took out another carton.

"Thanks." Hal accepted it briskly.

"Our black mage sure has quite some connections, huh? Even in this godforsaken place, he manages to find all sorts of supplies," Finley insinuated, "though the things he brings back are kinda strange, like this milk packaged in paper that seems to be loaded with sugar."

"Indeed, you can't really taste much of the milk." Hal's eyes narrowed. "The biscuits he distributed to us were coated with a layer of sugar icing… Even the renowned biscuit shops in the Rhine Kingdom's capital aren't so generous."

"So, you guys are saying…" Tuttle approached with a pot of stew. He placed it on the campfire where the two of them were seated and wiped his hands. As he sat down, he continued, "that there's an external force supporting this black mage?"

"The largest sugar-producing region is outside the continent," Finley stated concisely. "As far as I know, the Rhine Kingdom's disputes with the Kenyan Empire prevented them from having easy access to trading and resources from beyond the continent."

Tuttle shrugged. "Alright then. A wicked black mage backed by the evil Kenyan Empire infiltrates deep into the eastern region of Navalon with sinister intentions. It sounds plausible… But in these past few days, we've taken turns keeping watch, and we haven't seen any strangers enter here to deliver supplies to this black mage."

"If it's about supplying the 18 of us and meeting the needs of that Rex guy, all it would take is for a highly skilled stealth expert with a spatial ring." Tuttle pointed to the heaps of bricks and cement at the nearby construction site. "These things would require at least two medium-sized airships to transport. And airships are so conspicuous that only the blind won't see them coming."

Hal and Finley fell silent.

Large quantities of construction materials appearing overnight weren't particularly strange for players since it was just a game after all. Whatever the development team wanted to "refresh" could be refreshed.

But it was frustrating for these natives—they couldn't comprehend how the black mage, Yang, who camped with them in this godforsaken wilderness filled with monsters and beasts, managed to accomplish it!

Transporting such an amount of heavy objects was indeed a very troublesome task. Yang Qiu had to make several dozen trips using his spatial ring to accomplish it.

As for the source… Just like the provision of living necessities, Yang Qiu didn't explain anything to his subordinates because there really wasn't a way of explaining it.

"Tuttle, what are your thoughts?" Hal sighed and mustered his spirits to ask.

Tuttle remained silent for a moment before saying, "…Perhaps, accepting this reality for the time being isn't a bad idea for us."

Hal's face turned dark, and he stood up abruptly.

"Hal." Finley got up quickly and held onto Hal's arm while giving Tuttle a worried glance.

Tuttle stood up as well and met Hal's angry gaze head-on while saying firmly, "Believe me, Hal. I have never forgotten our initial oath. We will always be on the same path."

Hal took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, and said through gritted teeth, "And what do you mean by that?"

Even though there were no noisy undead wandering nearby, Tuttle cautiously leaned closer to Hal's ear and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I was thinking, perhaps we can consider using these peculiar undead… and Yang."

Hal stared at him in shock.

"Yang proclaims himself as Lord of Taranthan. At first, we thought he was insane and babbling nonsense… But evidently, Yang is serious and truly intends to turn this wasteland into his territory, perhaps having spent many years accumulating resources preparing. And these undead, which can't be killed no matter how hard we try, are his subjects."

Tuttle continued to whisper, "Summoning undead isn't really an extraordinary act coming from a black mage. If he can establish a foothold in Taranthan, then there's no harm in following him as long as there are enough benefits for us.

"And if he can't…" Tuttle lowered his voice to a level that even Finley, who was sitting close by, could barely hear, "the bounty on the 'Nightmare Butcher' is as high as 90,000 gold coins." 𝙗𝙚𝙙𝒏𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡．𝙣𝒆𝙩

Finley's and Hal's eyes instantly gleamed with excitement.

"…Wait, what if he realizes he can't succeed and chooses to flee? If a black mage wishes to escape, holding him back wouldn't be easy," Hal grabbed Tuttle's hand and asked anxiously.

Tuttle motioned for Hal and Finley to sit back down before he leaned in close to his eager compatriots and said coolly, "That's why we have to prepare early. First, we'll have to rope in some undead allies. As you guys may have noticed, these undead are crazy and extremely arrogant. Even when Yang passes by, none of them show him any respect. I believe these undead may not consider Yang as their master."

Hal slapped his thigh excitedly and exclaimed, "You're right! Yang would be wary of us, but he might not be wary of those undead."

"But when we interact with those undead, Yang still monitors us through the matrix," Finley said, frowning.

The whole gang knew that despite his hot-tempered nature, Finley was rather wise. Tuttle nodded in agreement. "Indeed, we can only communicate with those undead through the matrix, and our words and actions are monitored by Yang. However, this surveillance is to ensure we comply with instructions when making the undead work and doesn't prevent us from establishing other connections with these undead. For example, when we kill certain annoying undead, as long as our behavior isn't out of line, Yang won't take notice."

Finley's eyes lit up. "Are you saying… we can seek out opportunities to give these crazy undead some hints?"

"That's right." Tuttle nodded decisively. "I believe you guys have also noticed that almost all the undead have been going on about 'hidden quests' these past few days. It seems like they are eagerly anticipating the opportunity to receive undisclosed, special secret quests. Although we can't create tasks beyond the specified rules, we can make them believe that we can provide what they desire."

Finley and Hal both nodded vigorously. Hal got especially worked up and said, "That's right! These noisy bastards have been even more restless than before. Some troublemakers who took on my tasks weren't satisfied and kept pestering me, asking if there were any other quests. I killed quite a few of such bastards!"

"…" Tuttle wiped the sweat off his forehead. "There's no need to kill all of them next time. We can consider selecting a few less crazy… no, a few that we are able to differentiate, spare them selectively, and observe their subsequent reactions to see if they become friendlier toward us.

"We mustn't rush things. We've got to slowly bide our time and patiently select undead that are willing to get close to us. Then, we should gradually provide them with the benefits we can offer without getting too close that it will raise Yang's suspicions. And when the time is right, we can give them some insinuations…"

As the food simmered, Tuttle divided it into portions for his two companions while saying, "A secret ceases to be a secret when too many people are in on it. I suggest that it's best only the three of us handle this matter. What do you guys think?"

"Right, it isn't about distrusting others, but the fewer who know this secret, the better," Finley agreed right away.

Hal had no objections either. Hal believed that there wouldn't be any traitors among the 17 remaining of the former Sacred Crows bandit gang that followed him. However, there were indeed some idiots in their group who lacked brains and caused more trouble than they were worth.

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