Zonyan Grayclaw sharpened his blade.
In truth, he knew very well that the weapons dropped from dungeons didn't need to be sharpened. While they had durability, it wouldn't affect the sharpness of the weapons, and they would be as good as new after some repairs at the blacksmith's.
This was just a habit that he had retained as a warrior. It was all for the sake of emptying his mind and not recalling his past experiences.
He liked the atmosphere in the Church of Games. Even though they were fighting and killing every day, there wasn't much hostility in their interactions, perhaps because they had vented their frustrations in dungeons.
Even if there was a conflict, at worst, it would be a PK at the entrance of the town. After a fight to the death, everyone would be able to brag about anything in the tavern and trust each other's backs in the Instance Dungeon.
There was no need to worry about tomorrow's harvest, no need to kill the elderly, the weak, women, and children, much less brandishing their swords at their friends or family.
Even if the Divine Oracle assigned them a quest to take down enemy chieftains, everyone would work together to complete it amidst laughter.
Everything was so perfect.
Apart from a portion of the players who would scream "Ahhh, Black Hand is here!" and flee in all directions when they saw him.
'Damn it. My surname is Grayclaw!'
Zonyan muttered inwardly.
Black Hand was merely joking. While many Players weren't happy to team up with him because of that, there was no doubt that Zonyan's skills were top-notch, which was why first-rate Players often invited him to join them when they explored new dungeons. He wasn't bullied or humiliated, and instead made quite a few friends.
He was clearly so happy now, but why couldn't he forget the pain of the past?
He inhaled sharply when he noticed that the sharpened edge of his dagger had inadvertently cut his finger. The faint trail of blood instantly vanished, replaced by a red '1' that slowly floated out.
Zonyan didn't turn off his sense of pain like most Players, but merely reduced it a little. Being a former warrior, he knew that pain was a warning sign of the body against harm, and once he got used to it, it would actually play an important role in understanding his own form in battle.
He sighed and put the dagger back into its scabbard.
As one of the first batch of refugee players to join the town, he was naturally the boss the newbies talked about. While he was a little unlucky when it came to equipment, the game coins he earned from each dungeon did not decrease because of that. That was why, like many other players of the same batch, he did not stay in an inn, but in a house he bought in town.
Not only did the system-built houses have a neat and uniform appearance, but even the basic interior decoration was exactly the same. Other than the house number, there was almost no difference.
Naturally, Players could complete quests to collect wallpaper, furniture, and other random decorations to build their own homes. Zonyan, however, wasn't interested in that, which was why his home remained a basic template, including the plain vanity mirror in his bedroom that was probably a benefit for female Players.
Zonyan picked up a comb from the dressing table and combed through his thick hair, revealing the ears on both sides of his head that were different from normal humans.
It was a pair of brownish-yellow, furry triangular beast ears.
Lion Clan.
Once upon a time, his tribe, the Grayclaw, was both reverently and respectfully called by other nonhumans.
Born with powerful bodies, frightening speed and shocking strength, they were essentially natural warriors who stood above all nonhuman races and were known as the Kings of the Hundred Races.
Swordtail Grayclaw, the second son of the Grayclaw tribe's chief and younger brother whom Zonyan had defeated once before, challenged his elder brother again.
But this time, Swordtail didn't fight Zonyan head-on. Instead, he used a sorcery he learned from somewhere to defeat Zonyan and kill the former chief — their father, directly claiming the position of chief of the Grayclaw tribe.
Every tribe member who opposed Swordtail was killed by him. Zonyan's mother did her best to protect Zonyan, but was still killed by Swordtail's sorcery in the end. Zonyan himself was caught in the shockwave of the sorcery and fell into the sea.
In this world, the sea was more dangerous than land, and the chances of survival after falling into the sea was much lower than falling off a cliff.
Even so, Zonyan didn't die in the sea. Instead, he managed to grab onto a piece of wood that floated to him out of nowhere in his daze, and floated for three whole days before old Vanke, who happened to be passing by the shore, found him and fished him out. That was how he managed to survive.
After that, Zonyan became a mercenary and made a name for himself in Lovinia.
When old Vanke was in trouble, Zonyan didn't abandon him. Instead, he simply gave up his life as a mercenary and protected the old man all the way to Cromwell. Then, the old man recommended him to Marni and he became one of the first refugee Players.
"As expected, I still can't let go of everything in the past."
Zonyan softly stroked the surface of the mirror with his hand, watching his face that was becoming more and more similar to his father's, feeling as if there was a fire burning in the depths of his heart.
The more blissful his life was now, the more painful that burning sensation was.
His hand had clenched into a fist at some point, and he smashed the mirror viciously with a single punch, shattering the reflection in the mirror.
His identity as a Player certainly allowed him to break through his previous shackles since most of his inhuman combat ability came from his body and instincts, making him a stronger warrior than his father. Even so, that wasn't enough.
The image of Swordtail's frightening sorcery still haunted Zonyan like a nightmare, and he couldn't help dreaming of that scene every day.
Even after changing class to Swordmaster and taking the path of a berserker, he still wasn't a match for Swordtail in terms of power.
"God, what should I do …" Zonyan mumbled softly, his face filled with pain.
He wasn't really begging his god for an answer, but merely muttering in his sleep out of habit or unconscious.
Still, it was clear that the nonhuman from the Western Continent didn't know that his god was (secretly) watching (spying) on him from his divine kingdom.
Hence, a crisp voice echoed in his mind in the very next moment.
[Ding!] Side quest activated: Triumphant Return of the King of Beasts.
[Hint: Enter 'Panda Literature' in search engine to find this site. Thank you.]
Chapter 162
Zonyan Grayclaw's Nightmare
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