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Chapter 26: The Golden Enigma
When everyone saw the lone tree, they were momentarily stunned. Brandon had just mentioned the golden apple tree, so their thoughts naturally drifted in that direction. The mercenaries immediately recalled his earlier words about the legendary Fairy Queen residing beneath the golden apple tree—and how any mortal who saw her would be forever trapped in the valley. A shiver ran down their spines.
Instinctively, they glanced around nervously, fearing they might already be ensnared. They had barely escaped Madara’s undead army; they certainly didn’t want to spend the rest of their lives stranded here.
What they didn’t realize, however, was that Brandon wasn’t concerned about a golden apple tree at all. In his past life as a player, this valley had been thoroughly scoured by countless adventurers. To him, this place held no secrets. From one end of the valley to the other, there was nothing but barren ground and mist—no monsters, no treasures, no living creatures, not even a trace of vitality. As for the fabled golden apple tree and the Fairy Queen, these were mere myths whispered among NPCs, never seen by players.
What startled Brandon, though, was the sight of that solitary tree. He double-checked his memories and confirmed that such a tree had never existed in the game.
He had traversed this valley countless times and was certain he hadn’t misremembered. Every detail within it was an idealized manifestation of the realm’s rulers, resetting each night to its original state unless altered by specific plot events or shifts in the flow of time. He recalled clearly: the scenery would only change if the valley’s internal storyline or temporal progression had shifted.
Yet, according to his knowledge, this valley should have contained no quests at all. Could it be that the Fairyland now before them wasn’t the same one from the game? A suspicion immediately formed in Brandon’s mind: either someone had concealed discoveries made prior to his arrival, or the Fairyland itself had already changed before any players entered it.
The first scenario seemed plausible at first glance, but closer examination revealed inconsistencies. Players often struggled to uncover every secret of a location, making coordinated concealment unlikely. Still, Brandon considered the possibility of a single diligent explorer revisiting the valley multiple times—a stretch, but not impossible.
He recalled the sequence of discoveries: the first to find this valley was a scholar from the Star Guild named ‘Cranvor.’ Next came a knight, followed shortly by a female player from KOK. Their visits occurred within days of each other, leaving little room for deliberate secrecy.
Shaking his head, Brandon dismissed the idea. That left the second possibility: the valley had changed before players arrived. Such changes weren’t supposed to happen without player involvement, yet two factors could explain it—plot alterations or NPC exploration. Without player input, Brandon’s knowledge of this task was limited. Unknown variables were a significant problem for him.
Still, staring at the tree, Brandon couldn’t help but feel intrigued. Like any player, he was instinctively drawn to the allure of hidden quests. Tasks involving ancient knowledge rarely turned out mundane.
He signaled for the others to halt the refugees. Time in the valley’s nights was frozen relative to the outside world, meaning this “night” would last three full days. As long as food supplies held, he had ample time to explore.
The valley wasn’t large. A quick ride on horseback covered it in mere hours—far less than the allotted three days.
Noticing Retto’s puzzled expression, Brandon pointed to the tree. “There seems to be an issue. I need to check ahead.”
“Need assistance?” Tavern keeper Retto, a veteran of the November War, asked cautiously, though he felt as helpless as anyone else when faced with the mysterious.
Brandon did need help, but he didn’t trust these mercenaries. If this involved legendary treasures—and dangers—he preferred not to share secrets. He needed someone reliable. His gaze fell first on Chael, whose bond as a summoned mage made him a natural choice. Unfortunately, Chael had exhausted his mana during the previous night’s battle, leaving him only slightly stronger than an ordinary person.
Next, he considered Roma. Though perceptive, she lacked the strength to accompany him into danger.
Roma blinked innocently at him, feigning sweetness to tag along. But Brandon wasn’t fooled. Finally, his eyes landed on Freya, who appeared distracted.
“Freya?”
“Huh? Ah…” Freya looked up, startled, her face flushing red.
“What’s wrong?” Brandon frowned. In his memory, Freya was independent and insightful, but since Xavier Mountain Pass, she’d seemed oddly distant. Unless she’d been replaced by Madara’s undead, which the elven blade hadn’t reacted to, something was clearly amiss.
“N-nothing, Brandon. What is it?” Freya stammered, flustered by thoughts of his earlier strange request.
“I’m going ahead to investigate. Come with me.”
Freya hesitated, then nodded. “A-alright.”
“I’m coming too!” Roma squirmed atop her horse.
“You stay put,” Brandon snapped. “If you’re so eager to learn riding, I’ll have Chael teach you. But if I come back and see you tied to the horse again, I’ll strap you sideways across mine.”
“But it's too hard for me.” Roma replied bluntly.
Just keep trying, will you? Brandon sighed. “Nothing starts out easy. We have plenty of time, and riding isn't that hard. You'll need it for our adventures.”
“It’s fine, Brandon. I can tie myself to the horse. I don’t mind.” Roma spoke earnestly.
“It’s not fine. Your comfort isn’t the point.” Brandon glared, exasperated. Ignoring her complaints, he approached Retto to brief him on precautions, grabbed a spare crossbow, and set off with Freya.
In Brandon’s memory, the most likely plot point lay westward along a side path. Yet the more secluded the spot, the more thoroughly players had searched it. He’d visited a couple of times himself, always leaving empty-handed. Still, he remembered every rock and blade of grass in the area.
As they left the group, Brandon scrutinized the surroundings. After ten minutes of riding, he confirmed his suspicion: this Fairyland differed from the game version. Something unknown must have changed in recent months.
Watching him circle a rocky patch, Freya grew curious and urged her horse forward. “Brandon, what are you looking for?”
“The entrance.” Brandon maneuvered his horse around chaotic white boulders. Spotting something, he dismounted and headed toward a narrow gap between two sharp rocks.
“This is it. Follow me.” Drawing his elven blade, he stepped cautiously into the crevice.
This place was called the ‘Crossroads of Fate.’ In the game, approaching it triggered a system log notification. Here, no such prompts existed—he relied solely on experience.
Behind the rocks should be an open iron box containing a stone slab, essential for entering the Crossroads but unable to leave the valley. Attempts to smuggle it out via dimensional bags ended in its mysterious disappearance. Clearly, the slab was part of the valley’s idealized reality.
Rounding the rocks, Brandon was unprepared for a sudden gust of wind carrying a golden arrow. His reflexes were sharp; before his mind registered, his body reacted—he stumbled backward, colliding with Freya. The arrow whizzed past his nose.
They tumbled backward, but Brandon caught a fleeting glimpse of a golden figure vanishing behind the rocks. Quick reflexes saved him from missing the attack entirely.
“Who—” Scrambling to rise, Brandon pressed his hands against the ground but froze as he realized where his palm rested. Slowly turning his head, he confirmed his fears: his hand lay squarely on an inappropriate part of Freya’s chest. She stared at him, wide-eyed, speechless.
Finally regaining composure, the future Valkyrie shoved him aside, scrambled to her feet, and lowered her head, silent and crimson-faced.
Brandon stood awkwardly, pretending to inspect where the golden figure had fled—though nothing remained.
“Sorry… uh…” he muttered lamely.
“Yes, who was that?” Freya mumbled, still avoiding eye contact.
“No idea. I saw a golden figure—it wasn’t a fairy. More like a summoned creature.” On familiar territory, Brandon’s clarity returned.
“A-are you hurt?” Freya’s voice was barely audible.
Brandon shook his head, scanning for the golden arrow. He found only a deep hole in the rock wall.
A light arrow?
Frowning at the puncture, Brandon recognized it as an advanced weapon effect. At least this confirmed the figure wasn’t a hallucination. Judging by its speed, it was weaker than Eberton. Reassured, he relaxed slightly, though vigilance remained key.
After checking the battlefield, Brandon signaled Freya to stay alert and cautiously advanced with his elven blade drawn. He remembered the golden figure fleeing north through the crevice—the entrance to the Crossroads of Fate. Could it have emerged from there? No such attacks were recorded in the game.
Soon, he spotted the iron box embedded in a white stone platform, seemingly placed deliberately. Destroying it required over gold-rank strength, but doing so was pointless—it restored itself nightly.
Surveying the area, Brandon’s confidence in his memories wavered. The golden figure challenged his recollections. Not only were there hostile beings here, but they also defied expectations.
Ensuring no enemies lurked nearby, he opened the box—and froze. Inside lay not only a stone slab but also a pair of earrings.
What was this?
Hesitating, Brandon feared magical traps. Though none existed in the game, who could say now? He tested with his elven blade, which often reacted to enchanted items.
No reaction.
Reassured, he picked up the earrings, scanned them briefly, and recoiled as if burned. Earrings of Endless Ice: +2 Intelligence, +1 Willpower. A sharp pain pierced his skull, as though needles stabbed his brain.
“Brandon?” Freya rushed to support him.
“I’m fine. Watch our surroundings.” Leaning on the iron box, Brandon cursed whoever left the earrings. He understood the issue—it wasn’t a trap but rather a violent backlash of magic energy. The real problem? These earrings were rated above 95 oz, far exceeding typical encounters in Buchi, a beginner zone.
His first thought was hallucination; his second dismissed it. Encounters here rarely exceeded level fifty, while these earrings belonged to the seventy-plus levels.
Thus, when Brandon attempted to probe the ring, the intense backlash of magic energy caused his mind to momentarily go blank.
Such powerful artifacts appearing in a low-level area contradicted game logic. Perhaps the Land of Saintly Relics was designed exclusively for NPCs. Its discovery early in the game, shortly after the First Black Rose War, suggested designers never intended players to engage with its plot.
Heart pounding, Brandon stared at the earrings. A hidden quest above level sixty? Should he seize the opportunity or retreat?
The risks were astronomical, but so were the rewards. In his past life, he’d completed only three hidden quests above level sixty: one yielded a fantastical weapon, another granted a mid-tier skill, and the third awarded nearly a hundred million torr.
These experiences alone propelled him into the upper echelons of players.
But the stakes were high. Level sixty marked a threshold where even ordinary monsters could obliterate him with ease. Facing such foes unprepared meant instant death.
Hand resting on the iron box, Brandon hesitated, torn between caution and ambition. Another critical factor loomed: within three months, everything in the valley might vanish. Abandoning this chance today could mean losing it forever.
The dilemma haunted him, urging him toward risk.
Taking a deep breath, he glanced at Freya.
“Brandon?” Freya noticed his troubled expression and ventured softly, “What is it?”
“If I decided to take a risk, will you join me?” Brandon’s voice was hoarse.
“I might, but I don’t want you to take the risk, Brandon.” Freya paused before answering honestly.
After a moment’s deliberation, Brandon nodded, exhaling deeply.
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