Ch. 28 The Return Guild
by AfuhfuihgsChapter 28 – The Return Guild
After repeatedly using the newly acquired skill, “Void Gaze,” I was able to pinpoint its exact effects.
The skill lasted for 3 seconds upon activation and caused anyone who met my gaze to feel nauseous, leading to vomiting.
This effect applied indiscriminately to both allies and enemies, humans and monsters alike.
However, there was a drawback: if I used the skill multiple times in a short period, I too would feel nauseous.
Of course, there might be other effects, but for now, this was all I had discovered.
The condition of needing to make eye contact was quite restrictive, but the skill had endless potential for creative applications.
How often would a Priest, who usually stays in the back providing buffs and heals, make eye contact with a monster? Still, it could save my life at least once in an unexpected situation.
Unexpected appearances of roamers, special patterns from dungeon bosses targeting the backline, or even during solo play—there were plenty of potential uses.
And then there was the possibility of intentional trolling.
“Hmm.”
Imagine using Void Gaze during a dungeon run, making eye contact with the tank.
If the tank, who was diligently managing the monster’s aggro, suddenly started vomiting, where would the monster’s aggro shift?
Most likely, it would quickly turn toward the ranged DPS and the Priest. What followed was predictable: the DPS screaming and running away, and the warrior rushing back to clean up the mess.
Blood would spill, and screams and shouts would fill the air.
It was too horrifying to dismiss as a mere prank. This wasn’t just a game—it was reality. I let out a long sigh and shook off the gruesome imagery in my head.
Next, I examined the skill “Hidden Facade.” Despite its grandiose name, it wasn’t an active skill but a passive one that was always active.
As such, I couldn’t figure out its effects.
The first player-exclusive guild in this world was established. Named “The Return,” it was founded by members of the Strategy Group.
In a world where everyone was scrambling to survive, spending gold on better equipment, even the Strategy Group, which had been leveling up recklessly, likely had little gold to spare.
So how did they manage to create a guild? The answer lay in the support of some players. Just as a member of the Strategy Group had approached me and Isolin a few days ago to secure our support, they had gone everywhere they could to gather promises of support.
1,000 gold per week. For players around level 15, it wasn’t a burdensome amount. It was just enough to make low-level players hesitate before donating. But as the saying goes, “Many a little makes a mickle.” That’s how the Strategy Group’s Return Guild was formed.
The Return Guild used its blatant name to recruit members. The guild’s capacity of 100 was filled almost instantly, with countless more on the waiting list.
When one group begins to dominate, it’s natural for others to grow envious.
Add to that the fact that they were essentially extorting 1,000 gold per week, and the resentment piled up at an astonishing rate.
It wasn’t uncommon to hear people cursing the Strategy Group while walking down the street.
The reasons for cursing the Strategy Group varied.
Some were jealous of how easily they earned gold, others were frustrated that the guild was full and they couldn’t join, some simply didn’t like them, and some wanted to stay in this world.
I, too, disliked the behavior of the Strategy Group and the Return Guild. Part of me wanted to join others in badmouthing them to my heart’s content.
But I didn’t. I knew that speaking ill of others would eventually come back to haunt me.
It wasn’t the right time yet. Far more people supported the Strategy Group under the slogan of “Returning to Reality.” For now, it was best to lay low and stay quiet.
To avoid drawing attention, I had to behave.
“Supreme!”
As usual, Isolin came to find me.
She ran over with a large backpack on her back. Even though we had inventory systems, the fact that she was carrying a backpack suggested she had picked up some quest.
“What did you get today?”
“Yeah, you noticed? Today, I got a delivery quest for alchemy potions. It’s a quest we can do while moving between hunting grounds. Want me to share it with you?”
“What’s the reward?”
“10 low-grade health potions and 5 mana potions.”
“Nice. Share it with me right away.”
Now was the time to enjoy a soft, peaceful life.
I smiled at Isolin.
A week passed.
Isolin and I went hunting every single day without rest. As a result, I reached level 22, and Isolin reached level 24.
But the changes didn’t end there. The Strategy Group, to whom we had promised gold support, increased the required amount to 1,500 gold. Of course, it wasn’t mandatory.
They always said, “If you can, if you have the means, please support us.”
Since it wasn’t forced, there wasn’t much outcry among the players.
However, many felt uneasy about the sudden increase in the required amount.
It was only natural that those who felt uneasy stopped their support.
The Strategy Group, the Return Guild, didn’t say a word to those who stopped paying.
Time passed like that.
As players’ levels evened out, hunting grounds began to be systematically categorized. Some offered more gold, while others provided faster experience gains.
Like in any RPG, this world had its own “premium hunting spots”—places where monsters were easier to hunt, rewards were better, or respawn rates were faster.
The Strategy Group began to control these premium spots.
Isolin and I weren’t high-level enough to access these premium hunting grounds, so we could only watch from afar.
“Sorry! You can’t use this hunting ground!”
“What? Did you rent out the whole place or something?”
“We’re from the Return Guild. Please understand. Our guild’s rapid growth is the fastest way back to reality!”
“Ah, well…”
“Thank you for your understanding!”
Though they called it “understanding,” it was pure control.
The Return Guild member blocking the entrance spoke softly, but his expression was menacing, as if he’d swing his weapon at any moment if someone didn’t back off.
The player who had been about to argue reluctantly nodded.
“Right. You’re doing good work, after all…”
“Thank you for understanding!”
Scenes like this became frequent. I assumed other premium spots were no different.
Where would those who backed off go? They’d be pushed to less efficient hunting grounds, falling behind in growth.
This was a common sight in PvP-oriented RPGs. Guilds would clear out outsiders for their own benefit, threatening to draw their swords if anyone disobeyed. It reminded me of old memories.
If they continued to suppress other players like this, the backlash would be severe in the future.
However, the Return Guild didn’t rely solely on suppression.
They also gave players who consistently paid their weekly support two days of access to premium hunting grounds.
The more I observed, the more I marveled. The Return Guild’s leader must have had extensive experience running guilds in PvP-oriented RPGs.
They used the slogan “Returning to Reality” to shape public opinion.
That public opinion became their power, and with that power, they began to control naturally.
They also created distinctions among the controlled players, making them feel like they were receiving benefits.
The answer to those who questioned the Return Guild’s control of hunting grounds was predictable:
“Why didn’t you pay the support? If you had kept paying, you could have used the hunting grounds.”
The Return Guild wouldn’t be the ones answering. It would be the ordinary players who had gained access to the hunting grounds.
A natural divide. They made outsiders feel a sense of belonging to the Return Guild, using them as shields.
Conflicts would arise naturally, and public opinion would sway in the guild’s favor.
After all, their goal was to return to reality.
They had already justified their actions. Even if some players spoke out, the tide had already turned. How could they possibly flip the script?
“Will we end up being controlled like that too?”
“Hmm…”
I let out a low groan in response to Isolin’s question. To live freely in this world, I needed to level up too.
I wanted to buy a house, create a guild, and even build a massive ship.
Though it was a distant future, if the Return Guild’s control persisted by then, it would be a significant problem.
“Hey, Supreme.”
“Yeah?”
“Did the games you used to play have guilds that controlled things like that?”
I frowned at Isolin’s question. Not all games, but some did.
“Only in some games.”
“What happened to those guilds in the end?”
“Hmm…”
I stroked my chin, recalling old memories. No throne lasts forever. Guilds like that always crumbled eventually. But that was only when they were formed for in-game benefits.
The Return Guild was created for the sake of everyone in this world. While I couldn’t know what the guild’s leadership truly thought, that was the image they projected.
It was likely that even those who joined after the initial founding did so with the mindset of helping everyone, not just themselves.
That’s why I couldn’t be sure.
Of course, if internal conflicts began, things might change.
“It didn’t end well…”
I trailed off, frowning. At the same time, the world began to melt.
Colors blurred as if water had been poured over watercolor paint. The boundary between black and white disappeared, and gazes locked in mid-air.
–Ugh!
The person kneeling with a pale face was a Return Guild member controlling the hunting ground.
He opened his mouth wide, drooling uncontrollably.
Vrslop_translator
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