NOVEL NEXT Chapter 98: Is there a cure?
Yohan: "John has a point. Running blindly into a trap was a mistake, and we can't pin that all on him. But John, you're not blameless either. As the leader, you should've had a better plan—or at least kept the group coordinated."
John: "Easy for you to say, Yohan. You weren't there!"
Yohan: "Exactly. I wasn't there, and that's why I'm not pointing fingers. What I do know is this: Fateless humiliated all of you, and instead of learning from it, you're just tearing each other apart."
The chat went quiet again, Yohan's words cutting through their anger like a blade. After a moment, Marcus responded.
Marcus: "Yohan's right. We messed up. All of us."
Desmo: "Yeah… I guess we panicked. It's just—he's on another level, Yohan. None of us could've beaten him."
Yohan: "This isn't about beating him. It's about learning how to handle situations like this. Fateless exploited your lack of coordination and turned you against each other. If we don't address that, we're going to keep failing."
John: "So, what's your solution, Yohan? Sit back and let him walk all over us again?"
Yohan: "Quite the opposite, I realised from the way you were talking about Fateless."
John: "So, what's your solution, Yohan? Sit back and let him walk all over us again?"
Yohan: "Quite the opposite. From the way you've described Fateless, it's clear he's not some mindless killer. He's strategic. He doesn't hunt you for fun—he does it because it's profitable. You're not fighting a grudge, you're dealing with a businessman."
John: "A businessman? He's destroyed our progress twice! He killed us and robbed us blind! What kind of businessman does that?"
Yohan: "We've made ourselves his enemies by giving him reasons to target us. But what if we turned that around?"
The chat fell silent for a moment as the group digested his words. Finally, John broke the silence.
John: "Turn it around? How?"
Yohan: "Simple. We make ourselves valuable to him in a way that keeps us alive. What's Fateless's biggest reputation in the village?"
Several members quickly typed the same response.
Marcus: "Trading."
Desmo: "Auctions."
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Foitus21: "Rare items."
Yohan smiled as he saw their responses.
Yohan: "Exactly. Fateless is a trader at heart. He values profit. If we show him we're more useful alive—contributing to his wealth—than as targets, he won't come after us anymore. We've got to play this smart."
John: "And how do we do that?"
Yohan: "We invest. We pool our money and bid big at his next auction—pay more than anyone else. Show him we're serious about mending this. If we're the ones lining his pockets, why would he bother hunting us down? No one attacks their best customers."
Marcus: "You want us to overpay for his items? That's…"
Yohan: "A calculated risk. Think about it. Right now, you're all far behind in levels and gear. Fighting him isn't an option. But if we become his best clients, we change the narrative."
John: "What if he just takes our money and keeps hunting us anyway?"
Yohan: "Then we'll deal with it. But I don't think he will. If Fateless was that short-sighted, he wouldn't be as successful as he is now. This is our chance to turn the tables."
Desmo: "Alright. Let's say we do this. How much are we talking about? Fateless isn't going to care about a few bronze coins."
Yohan: "We need at least 10 gold coins. Maybe more."
The group exploded with protests.
Marcus: "10 gold coins?! That's $100,000 in real money!"
Foitus21: "Are you insane?! I barely have 1 gold coin!"
Yohan: "Think long-term. If we don't stop this now, you'll lose more than 10 gold coins in progress and time alone. This is an investment to secure your future."
...
Inside the village, Arthur walked briskly toward the inn, his mind racing with plans. As he stepped through the entrance, his eyes immediately landed on Gates, who sat at one of the tables holding a mug.
"Hey," Arthur called, gesturing for him to follow. "Let's go talk inside."
Gates put the mug down and looked up. He then nodded and rose from his seat. He followed Arthur up the stairs to his room without a word, his curiosity piqued.
Once inside, Gates glanced around the modest room and noticed a single chair in the corner. Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled it out and sat down, leaning forward slightly. Arthur closed the door behind him and took a seat on the bed across from Gates.
Arthur's expression was serious, a rare departure from his usual cocky demeanour. "Gates, I need a favour. A major one. If you can help me, I promise you'll be the first to see any items I get before anyone else. You'll get exclusive access and discounts on everything."
Gates raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. He had dealt with Arthur enough to know that such an offer wasn't made lightly. "You don't strike me as someone who'd offer something like that without a good reason. What is it? If I can help, I will."
Arthur hesitated, exhaling slowly as he gathered his thoughts. For once, his usual confidence wavered. "It's… not about the game. It's something in the real world."
Gates's interest deepened. He folded his arms and listened intently.
"There's someone close to me," Arthur began, his voice quiet but steady. "They have cancer. The doctors say they only have four weeks left—if that. I've done everything I can, but I need your help. You know your status better than I do. Is there anything available to you that isn't accessible to the public? Anything that could give me a chance to save them or even delay the time further?"
The room fell into a heavy silence. Gates's confident facade faltered, his expression shifting to something more solemn. He seemed to weigh Arthur's words carefully, his gaze dropping to the floor.
For a moment, it looked like he was about to say something, but he stopped himself. He leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, his face unreadable.
"Gates?" Arthur said, the hope in his words visible.
Gates finally looked up, meeting Arthur's gaze with an intensity that sent a chill through the room.
His lips parted as if to speak—