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    True to his word, Dassein provided Simon with all the equipment he needed, including reports on the bounties, fast horses, soldiers’ rations, and even an enchanted flaming sword. Simon didn’t particularly need the latter, considering he already had his energy-sucking morning star, but he accepted the gift anyway.

    He had received very few in his life and appreciated it all the more for it.

    More importantly, no group of inquisitors nor soldiers had entered his room this morning to drag him out to his execution, which meant neither Meredith nor Leonard had betrayed his secret, something which pleased Simon greatly.

    He didn’t lower his guard just yet, though. In the end, Simon had decided to bring his entire retinue with him for the hunt to ensure he could keep an eye on everyone for now. He figured this would be a good occasion to bond with them and see how they could perform as a unit. Agnes had also confirmed that she could slightly alter Eole and Lorimor’s slave crests so that they would trigger the ‘death’ mechanism should they spill the beans about the Overlord Class’ true owner, so that covered his last source of concern.

    The hellhound’s territory was a five-hour ride from Beleth, covering a grassland pass set between two hills. The army had known of its location for a while and escorted important caravans through the area, but the beast constantly managed to elude their hunting expeditions. Monsters were often smart enough to avoid picking fights they couldn’t win.

    So Simon brought an expert along.

    “Have you found a trail?” he asked Cassandra.

    “I have, Your Majesty,” Cassandra confirmed. She had put on her Witch Class outfit for the task, causing a dark hat to materialize over her veil, a ghostly lantern to adorn her waist, and a black twisted staff to appear in her hand. “The beast lurks to the east.”

    “I concur,” Agnes Firewand confirmed. “I sense the presence of the Dark nearby.”

    Most monsters were the result of miasma mutating living creatures, so Simon assumed having someone like Cassandra come along would help. The young witch had accepted the offer with rare enthusiasm, since she wished to learn how a hellhound appeared so close to a populated area.

    Simon had also found another use for Eole: namely, as a flying lookout. The kish didn’t particularly relish the task, but obeyed it nonetheless. She was flying in circles above them since her crest prevented her from moving too far away from Simon without inflicting pain unless he gave her an explicit order. He was pretty sure she would use any opportunity to run away and thus didn’t take the risk.

    “We should stay against the wind so the beasts do not smell our approach,” Leonard wisely suggested. “Wolves tend to be more active at dusk, and the sun will not set for a few hours yet. We should be able to get the drop on the creature while it sleeps with some luck.”

    Cassandra smiled thinly. “Hellhounds do not sleep, Ser Leonard; they simply wait.”

    “What can you tell us about this creature?” Simon asked.

    “Hellhounds are canines who have been infused with miasma, gaining greater size, strength, and the power of fire itself,” Cassandra said, her voice betraying her enthusiasm for the subject. “Their blood and breath carry flames. They can grow larger than draft horses, and often gain additional heads as they age.”

    “The one we are hunting only has one, according to reports, Your Highness,” Meredith added. “It should be no match for us, though we will gain little experience from it.”

    Which bothered Simon. He had picked the hellhound as their first target since it was the closest and weakest one, but he hoped to at least gain one or two more levels from it.

    “I still do not quite understand how this ‘experience’ is attributed,” he admitted. “I’ve heard it’s usually split between a group. Is that true?”

    “While it is generally true that an individual’s experience share tends to become diluted the more people participate in a battle, there are nonetheless countless exceptions,” Leonard replied. “There is no universal formula for ‘experience’ because its rate of attribution depends on countless factors, the first of which is the Class itself. A Tactician may gain much experience from a battle without drawing their blade, so long as they guide their allies to victory through sound stratagems; while a Gladiator and a Wizard fighting in that same battle will earn experience at different rates depending on their actions.”

    “You mean how much they contribute to the fight?” Simon inquired.

    “Yes and no. Experience represents how much in tune a given person is with their Crestone and Class, which is why an individual can level-up in more than one along separate tracks. A Knight who fights from afar is not in tune with his Class, no more than a Thief who fights fair. I would assume that a Gladiator would gain the most experience from fighting in an arena and with an audience than they would when assassinating someone in a back alley.”

    “Though that Gladiator will gain experience in either case,” Meredith noted. “The one who lands the killing blow usually receives the largest share of available experience, but someone who did not participate until the last stretch and lands the coup de grace will not earn much.”

    That would explain why Simon only received two levels from slaying Lorimor in a previous loop, although he had already been a level 8 Scholar back then. Simon had landed the killing blow, but did none of the heavy lifting in capturing him. An execution was no glorious victory in battle.

    “So gaining experience is not only about what we kill, but how we kill it,” Simon summarized. This raised even more questions. Which of his Classes would gain more experience from this hunt? Should he focus on strengthening Gladiator rather than Overlord so the latter could eventually consume one of the former’s abilities? “Agnes, how did the previous Overlords usually gain levels?”

    Her answer was straight and to the point. “Through conquest.”

    Figures. Simon guessed that explained why his father had been so relentless in his wars. Expanding the empire might very well have been the only reliable way for him to level-up the Overlord Class after a certain point. Killing a monster and taking its territory isn’t as glamorous as conquering Telluria, but it should fit the Overlord’s desires.

    Simon should summon the Keeper of the Throne and ask if it had any information on his predecessors’ Class choices the next time he visited Castle Frightwall. He had tried to call the shade to his side in Beleth, but it failed to appear. The distance from the Crimson Throne was probably too great.

    Lorimor, who had been silently riding at the back of the group with a bag filled with documents he would have to decode during the trip, squinted. “The previous Overlords?”

    “All will become clear in time,” Simon replied before looking up. “Do you see anything, Eole?”

    Simon could see her scowl of annoyance at receiving orders all the way from the ground, but she answered his query all the same. “I see wolves near a cave.”

    “The hellhound must be inside,” Simon said before delivering orders. “Meredith, Leonard, ensure we are not disturbed and protect everyone else. Firewand and I will take care of the hellhound.”

    Cassandra chuckled. “Your Highness is gallant, but I can defend myself. I am a level 30 Witch.”

    “Is that so?” Simon asked. Damn it, everyone in his party except Lorimor was higher-level than him! “Very well, good hunt to you then.”

    It didn’t take them long to find the cave at the base of a hill, with the entrance slightly hidden behind groves of overgrown strawberry bushes. Half a dozen wolves kept watch close to the threshold and immediately began to growl at them. Leonard and Meredith dismounted, then quickly transformed into their Class outfits.

    Leonard’s Dreadnought Class quickly covered him in a bulky, knightly white and blue plate armor covering every inch of his skin. The helmet boasted a yellow crest and a face mask with only a horizontal slit to let his eyes see through. The left hand carried a heavy pavise shield, and the right a longsword. Meredith’s Valkyrie transformation was subtler, with her armor gaining metal wings at the heels and waist, a feathered hairband appearing on top of her head, and a white spear forming in her hands.

    They lunged forward in a blur and sent wolf heads flying.

    They moved so quickly that Simon struggled to follow their movements. He had heard Dreadnought was a relatively slow Class that focused on strength and defense, yet Leonard proved frighteningly fast with it anyway. He moved with a grace that belied his bulky armor and swung his sword with casual dexterity as if it were an extension of his own arm. Meredith was even swifter, her spear dancing between her fingers. Every thrust sent blood staining the grass, yet none stained her hair or clothes.

    I have a lot of catching up to do, Simon thought as he and Firewand dismounted, then walked into the cave while their allies secured the area. Either of his retainers could kill him in the blink of an eye if they wanted to. A lord shouldn’t be weaker than his followers.


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    Simon didn’t know why that bothered him so much. He craved a life of obscurity away from politics, and he had no intention of ever being in a position of leadership. He only intended to level-up the Overlord and Gladiator Classes so he could protect himself from the conspiracy targeting his family and grow strong enough to take revenge on the likes of Thalas. He shouldn’t care that his retainers were stronger than he was.

    But it annoyed him nonetheless.

    The cave was rather narrow, with moss-covered boulders and piles of leaves obstructing part of the footpath. Fragments of cracked and broken bones littered the ground. Most seemed to belong to horses or cockatrices, but a few were clearly humanoid skulls pounded and gnashed to pieces. A faint green glow illuminated the back of the cavern, like the light of a torch. He could smell the stench of dried blood in the air.

    Simon put on the Overlord Class outfit, having decided to focus on leveling up the Overlord Class rather than Gladiator whenever possible. Overlord was the only Class whose levels he knew for a fact would carry on from reign to reign. He didn’t want to invest too much time in Gladiator until he had confirmed the same would apply to secondary Classes.

    They found the creature at the back of the cave, feasting on a dead man’s corpse in the company of two she-wolves.

    The beast was indeed a huge, ghoulish ebon-furred dog the size of a horse. Its eyes burned with greenish flames, and its jaws oozed acid. Its paws were wreathed in smoke that left burning prints on the ground. It raised its gaze at the newcomers without showing any fear.

    Oh, and it had a rune-carved collar around its neck.

    That surprised Simon. Had this beast been someone’s pet before it escaped? He somehow doubted it, considering the magic emanating from the device. Very strange indeed.

    The hellhound growled at Simon and Agnes with a jaw full of fangs, each the length of daggers, imitated by the two she-wolves.

    “Manling chose death by coming to Nessian’s den,” the hellhound said with a low, rasping voice. It took Simon aback until he recalled that his All-Seeing I Perk allowed him to understand all spoken languages; he guessed that it included even animal growls. “Manling should flee. It will make the hunt more amusing.”

    Simon wasn’t impressed. “Who put that collar on your neck, beast?”

    “Nessian does not speak back to food.”

    “Good then, for I am no food of yours.” Simon responded by activating his Dreadful Aura Perk and began to radiate fear itself. The air grew heavy with malevolence, rattling the hellhound and frightening the she-wolves. The latter’s growls turned to whines as they cowered away to the back of the cave.

    “Cowards!” the hellhound growled at them, but they wouldn’t budge. “Unworthy to bear Nessian’s pups!”

    “Your girlfriends are more afraid of me than you,” Simon taunted the creature. “Do you think I can win on my own at level eleven, Agnes?”

    “Yes, but it might be a close call.”

    “Good. Then stay in the back, and do not intervene unless my life is in danger.” Simon raised his morning star. “Dark Saber.”

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