Rimelion: The Exploiter

Naturally, the journey was anything but quiet—quite the opposite. Hordes of floaters assaulted us relentlessly, turning the trip into a hellish battle. The fight raged on, and just as exhaustion set in, the attacks finally ceased when we neared the island.

With the last Floater slain, the captain let out his favorite line: "I have a bad feeling about this." I shook my head and shot him an annoyed glare before kicking the Floater's lifeless body back into the sea, mimicking his move from the day before. My attention shifted to the distance, where a opaque, smoke-white mist cloaked the island. Only the tip of a needle-like mountain pierced through the shroud.

As I squinted at the mist, a shadow fell over me. Instinctively, I tensed, but before my worry could bloom, the captain's large hand landed on my shoulder. His grin, infectious, was now mixed with unease. "We can't go near the island. The waters are dangerous. We can't navigate Love through it without magic aid."

"Love?" I stepped back, dodging what felt like the beginnings of an unwanted hug, and turned to face him, more disturbed by the change in his tone than his antics.

"That's the name of our ship!" he bellowed, his grin widening before he waved to a nearby sailor. "Take the Briggit. She'll get ya there safely. Hey, Mason! Briggit down!"

The sailor, muscles rippling, unhooked a pathetic excuse for a boat from the ship's side. His silver chain bounced against his chest as he worked, and the dinghy slammed into the water below, sending salty spray in all directions. Wonderful.

I jumped into the little boat, with Don close behind. Above us, the crew called down their good luck wishes and a half-hearted apology. You don't say. I resisted the urge to call them out on their lie—they could have sailed closer. I knew it, even if officially, I wasn't supposed to know in this life. Their Love was missing a few sails, after all.

I winked at Don, who grunted in response, and took my place at the rear. He frowned as I nudged a paddle with my foot. "Come on, Don. The boat won't row itself."

The storm in his eyes was almost enough to make me laugh, but despite his simmering anger, he grabbed the paddles and rowed. A teasing "good boy" hovered at the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back, smirking instead as I turned my attention to the system menu. I was turning into a snarky princess-girl from warrior-man John.

My intelligence stat was at fifty-five—not bad, better than most players, though the ranked priests were likely pushing a hundred. To even approach their level, I'd need at least one epic item. What a foolish journey this is. Sure, the XP was nice, but exceptional items would do more for my growth than any experience. And if all else failed? I'd just exploit the game. Easy, right?

The moment we entered the mist, a strange sensation stabbed at my heart. A wave of exhaustion washed over me, as if I'd plunged into icy water in the dead of winter. My chest tightened, and my breath grew heavy. My mind drifted, memories bubbling to the surface unbidden. What? Was this... an illusion?

I was back at the peak of the Mountain of the Shrieks, clad in gleaming black armor that shimmered faintly under the crimson-hued sky. In my hand was a legendary dark sword, its obsidian blade emanating an ominous aura. As I stood before the enormous cave entrance, I noticed the cool mountain air prickling against my skin. And, as a guy in this vision, let's just say I was well-equipped—thank god I couldn't control this dream, or I might've gotten... distracted before checking out the cave.

The cave's edges were rugged, as if a colossal creature had forced its way inside, clawing through the mountain's heart. The details confirmed what I'd already learned—this was a dragon's nest, and not just any dragon. A nasty one. With confident strides, I approached, my boots crunching against loose gravel. Subtlety? Nah, not my style. This dragon was a level-200 beast, but I strode in twenty levels short and alone. You think that'll stop me?