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Chapter I – The Wandering Sin

A few steps into the gritty terrains of Morroc and Kibum is already lifting his solid, hollow, oval-shaped puce Assassin Mask from where it sits tied a bit loosely around his neck, adjusting it over his mouth and nose. The air is too dry, so much so that he prefers to breathe his own recycled breath over and over, even if he will start feeling suffocated after a while. It is possible to feel the changes in the quality of the air even before entering the Sograt Desert, but it gets harder to bear in the actual town. A town that he wasn’t expecting to see again anytime soon, after having left it no more than a week ago.

He suspects the Guide keeping the south entrance recognizes him from when he first passed by. Not many people use the south entrance; most are going to Prontera when they leave Morroc and would need to head north for that. Besides, Assassins don’t wander around conspicuously the way he’s doing right now, so Kibum thinks he deserves the stare he’s being given by the man clad in just as many clothes as himself. It is an outfit appropriate for the desert climate: a golden yellow scarf made of a light fabric, cotton perhaps, hides the man’s lower head, his neck and shoulders; a short, ecru manteau coming from beneath it covers him down to his elbows, and underneath it the man wears liver-colored long sleeves, each one disappearing under very thick gloves of the same color as his manteau. Unquestionably too many clothes, but Kibum knows, as a matter of fact, that they are all used to it. However, while Kibum has nothing to shade his eyes or protect his hair and head from the desert sun, the Guide wears a sand-colored helmet with a distinct golden crescent engraved on it, symbol of the Morroc soldiers.

With a stiff nod, Kibum acknowledges the man as he advances through the large path made of red, shabby bricks. He doesn’t gain a nod back and it doesn’t make his day or mood any worse.

They really can’t be made worse. Walking nearly five days straight, making it through sandstorms, monsters that annoyed him much more than posed any threat, not to mention the desert heat, and getting as far as the Fortress Saint Darmain in Comodo only to run into an idiot snapping dead branches and managing to summon an MVP with one of them. Kibum had wanted to walk right past the moron, a Swordsman who shouldn’t be a high level one if the sloppy way he brandished his sword toward the monster was any indication. Maybe the guy was just too stricken with fear as the ferocious Garm, a huge wolf-like creature with big ice spikes that covered its body instead of fur, howled and snarled in front of his face. Kibum knew he was about to witness the bloody slaughter of an adventurer by the MVP monster, and as an Assassin, he couldn’t let that be.

Far enough from the scene not to be noticed by either the Swordsman or the Garm, Kibum raised his right hand before his eyes sideways, two rigid fingers pointing up, and with a single and fast air-cutting gesture he vanished, reappearing seconds later right behind the gelid creature attacking the adventurer, who could only defend himself for so long with his paltry shield. It was a matter of seconds until the Garm sensed his presence, and he needed to act before the monster did.

“Run!” Kibum’s first blow with his Katars caused the monster to immediately turn to him. It stood at least 6 meters tall, and he would be fooling himself, or trying to anyway, if he thought he could fight the Garm alone, or any other MVP for the matter. Still, Kibum needed to distract the creature long enough for the Swordsman to be able to flee the place. The young man, however, all but stumbled backwards, falling on his as he attempted to escape. It made Kibum both furious and desperate.

“Run, you fool! You’re going to get us both killed!” Kibum shouted again, his agility allowing him to back slide and draw the Garm away from the helpless Swordsman. He ought to stay within the monster’s reach, otherwise it would once again turn to the weaker adventurer, but he wouldn’t just stand there and get hit without fighting back, no matter that he didn’t really stand a chance. Kibum charged forward to deliver the Garm a Sonic Blow, his most powerful move so far, and was genuinely surprised when it didn’t miss. The sound of his Katar blades cutting through solid ice rang loudly in his ears, and crystal shards flew everywhere making him close his eyes to avoid a serious injury. The MVP’s cry was a pained one then, and for a fleeting little moment Kibum was hopeful it would go away with that.

To his not-so-great surprise, the rabid monster countered his move, lunging forward and biting both his Katars off of his hands, easily breaking the sharp metal blades with its fangs. Kibum back slid twice then out of reflex, cursing everything under the sun for his lost Katars and the cards slotted in them that he was never going to retrieve. Only when the monster kept slowly advancing toward him did he realize the good-for-nothing Swordsman was no longer there. Well, at least that.

Running away from the MVP was easy then, because its walking speed was very slow despite, or because of its size. However, Kibum had become devoid of weapons, and that made it impossible to proceed to Beacon Island and board the ship to Izlude. He had no choice but to go back to Morroc and try to find new Katars for a price he could afford at the moment, which wasn’t much. Kibum was almost certain he would have to find another way to replace his lost weapons.

From the curious and bewildered looks Kibum keeps getting, it seems that even in Morroc, the place that had once been home to the Assassin Guild, people aren’t used to seeing his kind meander freely among them. Thankfully, there aren’t many people on the streets to begin with, which is a big contrast to his memories of the town from years ago, when he had been there for his Thief job quest. The streets used to be flocked with Merchants rumored to sell equipment for much less than the ones in Payon or Prontera, two of the nearest towns. For that reason, adventurers from all over Rune-Midgarts and even the distant country of Schwarzwald used to come to Morroc searching for cheaper MVP drops and rare cards. Downtown Morroc, as Kibum recalls, had always been a bustling open market with all kinds of people, although even then people would probably be surprised to spot an Assassin in the daylight.

Where the town’s castle used to stand, smack-dab in the middle of the town, there is now an immense crater that the Continental Guards keep any and everyone from getting too close to. The shop tents lining up the main street leading there look lonely; the products on display, mostly handmade textile items and jewelry, probably sitting there for a long time without many potential buyers or bargainers. Kibum notices that some of the shopkeepers are absent even, which only evidences the abandon. Had this happened in the past, Rogues and Thieves would have raided those shops in no time. It’s not hard to advance through the main street as opposed to before, and although the town’s plight is sad to think about, Kibum doesn’t miss having to shove people out of the way in order to get anywhere.

Despite the general emptiness of the place, there’s a small line for the Kafra Corporation stand, which is located to the center of an area just before the crater. As he joins the line, Kibum pulls down his mask once again, inhaling deeply and quickly regretting it, for the air is thick with dust. He’s tired and thirsty and would kill for a shower; his last one a day ago in one of the Sograt Desert lagoons. He feels sticky and dirty, with the desert sand that the wind raises off the ground impregnated on his skin and clothes. Before he can find a place to shower and rest, though, most likely an inn, Kibum needs to get food, drink and zeny from his storage.

The line moves quickly enough that he’s soon greeted by the Kafra employee, a stern-looking, lanky young woman, with long hazel-colored hair, tan skin and brown eyes behind half moon glasses. Her uniform, a simple brown dress almost the same tone as her skin, looks like it’s smothering her where it closes around , a beautiful brooch with a big dark gem keeping the collars from opening. She also wears a frilly khaki headband and an apron of the same color, which is pulled tight around her waist by a very broad, red waistband tied in a bow at her back.

She doesn’t smile at him, not that he thinks she does anyone, and seems to work mechanically. Kibum doesn’t blame her; he can’t imagine what his mood would be like if he had to stand in the desert sun hours straight every day like she did.

“I need my box, please,” he says, pulling a key from his collar at the same time the woman pulls an old fashioned trunk from under her stand, and although it looks heavy she manages to place it on top of the well-worn wooden counter with no apparent effort. It’s only then that she notices the long and thin key Kibum is holding, bronze in color and with an ornate bow that others’ keys don’t have. In fact, others don’t even carry their storage key on them.

“Key?” She inquires, her eyes narrowing and becoming almost half moon shaped as well. A small, crooked smile appears on Kibum’s lips as though he’s trying to hold it back.

“Hello, Clarice, it took you long enough to recognize me, huh,” he snickers, amused with the puzzled look on her face until she too laughs, but in awe.

“Oh my god, I’ve stopped paying attention to people’s faces some time ago in this heat… But wait, you don’t look the same,” Clarice leans forward to examine his face, and Kibum feels like cackling at her. He pulls away making a face instead.

“Yeah yeah, I don’t look the same. My hair was blond last time you saw me,” he explains and she straightens herself up again, looking a bit more situated. “And my clothes were blue.”

“So you haven’t been in Morroc, because we haven’t had a Stylist around in so long.”

“I’ve been to a couple of places lately, grinding. But I did all the dye job myself,” he says proudly, to which she instantly grins.

“Of course, I forgot you would have been a Stylist if given the chance,” she chuckles knowingly. Kibum uses this moment to open his red mahogany camel back trunk. There’s another lid he needs to open before actually accessing his belongings, and he turns the key once more counter clockwise before doing that. It’s his food compartment.

“I don’t suppose you’re staying in town?” Clarice speculates, watching Kibum, or Key (which is the name she knows), get a couple of canteens and food packages from the trunk, putting everything next to it on the counter. He closes the interior lid, turns the key twice counter clockwise and when he opens it again, his zeny compartment is on display. Kibum has his zeny in small fabric bags, separated by amount. With just a quick glance his suspicions are confirmed: he doesn’t have enough for a new set of Katars. He huffs, withdrawing two bags that must contain 25-50k respectively, and shuts the lid.

“I shouldn’t even be here right now. I was going to Beacon Island, but there was an idiot snapping dead branches near Saint Darmain. He summoned a Garm. I helped him escape but lost my Katars in the process,” Kibum purses his lips while Clarice nods.

“Sorry about that. What are you going to do now?”

“Well, I need new ones, but I don’t have the zeny right now. I think I’ll have to grind and loot a few days more until I have enough.” He finally closes his trunk and locks it, putting the key back where he always keeps it underneath his garment on his chest. Clarice puts away the trunk as well, looking compassionate.

“I heard that some Merchants have been camping near the Pyramid. It seems that dungeon’s gotten popular again among the adventurers. You should get some rest and go try your luck there, see if you find anything cheap.”

Kibum’s eyebrows rise for a moment, as he deems it worth trying.

“That’s good. I’ll go there tomorrow. I really need a shower and a bed right now. I’ve been walking for so long,” he complains in a whiny voice and an expression to match it.

“I bet.” Clarice then smiles against all odds.

Morroc was never known for its comfortable lodgings, but Kibum has a feeling that he’s chosen the worst place there to stay overnight, especially when he finds out the next morning that the shared bathroom has no mirror for him to check himself on whatsoever.  He does his best to check out his reflection on the window in his single bed room, but it’s to no avail since the sun rays hit the glass directly, flooding everything with light and heat. One would think it’s almost noon with how bright the sun is already shining, but then they would have forgotten where they are. It’s only seven in the morning, according to a clock on the hallway leading to the bathroom. Kibum can't afford sleeping in, even though his body surely needs more rest than that.

The lack of weapons to attach to his body after he finishes donning his Assassin attire is unsettling, to say the least. It’s as though a part of him is missing, and it indeed is for no adventurer is to be without his or her weapon, and sometimes shield. Kibum sighs, staring down at himself for a less than efficient once-over. At least he’s wearing clean clothes again, having been able to wash them before retiring to bed last night. They are like his second skin already, literally, too, since they cling tightly to his entire frame from the neck to the feet.

The suede-like fabric, recently dyed a darker, brownish shade of plum, is firmly wrapped around his torso with thorough care, leaving only his arms bare. It extends itself to become something like a cape of the same color where it meets his hips. There’s a simple golden belt made of the same material as the rest of his apparel around his hips, from which hangs a set of dark bandage-like straps that are strongly crisscrossed around his upper body, each end fastened to one of his golden shoulder pads made of a hard material lined with orc skin. Tights cover everything below his waist line until they disappear underneath heavy boots of the same material and color as the tights and upper garment. There are dark straps around his ankles in the same fashion as on his torso, and golden-colored ones from his shoulders down to his elbows. Fingerless leather gloves are the last touch to Kibum’s outfit, and they too had been dyed that brownish plum color. The only thing still holding its original appearance is the Assassin mask, and perhaps that’s what has been making Kibum not want to wear it so much lately. The dyestuff had ended before he could get to it, and making more would require ingredients from quests that were very tedious to complete. Thus he decided to leave the mask as it was, but he knew it would stick out from the rest of his outfit and not exactly in a good way. He puts it on anyway, not without a little inner reluctance, and finds himself ready to go.

Kibum is 1,210 zeny poorer when he sets foot on the dirt street, and he is not at all happy. The stay costs 1k, which is already very expensive in comparison to a Prontera inn, for example, much more comfortable and well disposed of goods for the guests. The extra 210z charge was for his usage of their washhouse. Kibum makes the owner of that inn aware of two things before he leaves: that he is never going to stay there again, and that he’s lucky Assassins don’t kill other people solely based on their greed for zeny. As he walks out and through the streets though, once again passing by semi-abandoned places, Kibum realizes that the citizens of Morroc had probably not been making much at all from their commerce, and that every opportunity to overprice an item or a service should now be taken without question almost as a means of survival, regardless of one’s morals. He can’t help the feeling of pity then, and the wish that the town rises to grace again someday.

An hour and a half later, Kibum leaves the great walls of Morroc behind through the northwest entrance into the Ruins area. He’s thankful not to have been greeted by a sandstorm, something that happens almost every time he has to pass through the Sograt Desert, which also happens much too often for his liking. Instead of a sandstorm, what he sees first thing is several groups of adventurers scattered around the sandy plains, parties if he had to guess, most of them of three or four members. Some are having meals, some seem to be discussing strategies over the dungeon’s maps and some seem to be splitting their loot among them. The place really does look like it’s gotten popular again; it’s been some time since he’s seen a field outside Payon and Prontera that crowded. He wonders if there’s something new in the Pyramid’s dungeon that he hasn’t heard of yet, and if it’s worth going after even.

Seven pyramids stand along the outskirts of those grounds, all within a short distance from each other. They are as old as they look, and the biggest of them looms over the others all the way across the entrance Kibum has just used, to the northwest, and only that one has a dungeon that can be explored by those seeking to kill undead creatures of all sorts.

The plains are speckled with palm trees and cactuses, some dry grass and bushy trees growing around them and also near the sparse constructions and tents. They call that area Ruins for a reason; the pyramids are the only constructions that haven’t been brought down or extremely deteriorated by the severe weather conditions. It’s not a very nice sight to behold, but Kibum still prefers it over the town, if only for the air not being as stuffy there as it is within Morroc’s great walls. He knows there’s a tiny little lagoon near the dungeon’s entrance, and begins making his way there so he can wash his face and hands; they already feel as dirty as they had been after days of walking under the sun. The Merchants should be there too, if there really is any around like Clarice had told him.

Taking the left path that follows the Pyramid line, Kibum is pleased to find it generally emptier than the other paths crossing the central part of the field. However, it is also then that the wind gets suddenly stronger, lifting sand from the ground. He shields his eyes with his hands, scolding himself for forgetting to get goggles from his storage, knowing he’d have to come here. Caught in a particularly strong blow, Kibum is forced to stop in his tracks and cover his eyes with an arm so they don’t get filled up with sand, because that would hurt if not blind him altogether. The wind is so strong that it pushes him back a couple of steps, and even when it seems to subside Kibum is careful not to open his eyes right away, as he knows the sand will still be falling back to the ground.

“Please don’t hurt me!”

The high-pitched appeal from a man is what makes him do it against his better judgment, and behind a veil of falling sand Kibum sees the silhouettes of four men apparently besieging a fifth one. When the sand finally gets out of the way, the four pairs of eyes are on him too.

“Look guys, it’s a Sin.” The one who motions with his head in his direction is a Thief, and he’s closer to Kibum than the other three, all Rogues. The besieged man is a Merchant, standing in front of his cart with trembling legs. Kibum’s steel gaze doesn’t falter as he observes them, although he does miss the grip around his old Katars as his fists clench on either side of his body. Unfortunately for him, that’s exactly what all four men seem to notice at once.

“Where are his weapons?” The Rogue on the far end of the line asks, furrowing his brows at the same time that the one next to him and directly in front of the frightened Merchant grins and takes a step forward, but towards Kibum instead.

“I don’t think he has any…” the man says slowly, clearly delighted by that realization.

While Kibum doesn’t have any weapons and can’t hide that fact, the four vicious-looking men all wield daggers, mainly Combat Knives. The one Rogue slowly advancing towards him carries a shiny little Damascus though, and it makes Kibum think he is probably the leader of this pack.

Kibum remains silent, concentrating on his reflexes and peripheral vision. Because of that, he can see the way the Merchant glances back at him with panic in his eyes, even though his own are fixed on that one Rogue. No matter how full of himself Kibum can be sometimes because of his sharp Assassin skills, he knows not to meddle with a party of Rogues alone, especially not while disarmed. The thing is, Kibum is never disarmed. Such is his luck, or lack thereof, that the one time he is he winds up in the middle of some Rogues’ stealing time.

It’s quite obvious why the Rogue walking towards him is the leader and not any of the others. He’s taller and better built, and even his face looks a lot more menacing than the others’. It seems that he also has much more attitude, given that his cronies all but watch the scene.

“Are you lost around here, Sin?” The sinister grin doesn’t leave the man’s face and Kibum hates it so much because he knows he’s being taken for an idiot. He briefly considers acting like one just to get out of there, but that would be completely against his nature. For one, his pride wouldn’t let him, and his sense of justice also wouldn’t let him walk away on that Merchant knowing he’d be stripped of all his belongings and selling goods. However, staying and confronting those men only meant that he too would have that fate.

“Do I look lost to you, Rogue?” Kibum replies pointedly. The man is now right in front of him, which has him looking up. In his book, that is definitely not an advantage.

If only the other bastards would get distracted and the Merchant could run away, maybe this could have a much happier ending for him. Yet none of them would budge, from what he could see.

“You do look a little dumb walking around unarmed,” the Rogue almost laughs in his face. If he weren’t holding a Damascus, Kibum would have gotten physical about this already.

“And you do sound a little dumb talking as though all a Sin has are his weapons.”

The Rogue his head, but doesn’t look any less defiant.

“Oh, is this a threat?”

Kibum honestly doesn’t know if it is. Just to make sure he isn’t going to get cut right now, he back slides and quickly performs his Cloaking move with the air-cutting gesture in front of his face. That is enough to set everyone off: the other three miscreants all run in his general direction, and the Merchant takes his chance to flee, dragging his cart along with him. The Thief guy sees this, however, and runs back to tackle him to the ground. He doesn’t do anything, though, seemingly needing to wait for a direct command. Their leader’s focus now is in not letting Kibum escape, though, as he too deftly slides sideways right where Kibum is as though he can see him, and the Cloaking spell is undone straight away as they fall to the ground.

“Take everything from him!” The leader of the gang bellows, pressing his Damascus down on Kibum’s throat, immobilizing him both with that and his very heavy weight over his body. If Kibum so much as turn his head, the dagger will slit his throat open.

He’s amazed that it doesn’t happen anyway when shots are fired at a very close distance from them, if he can trust his adrenaline-ridden senses, that is.

“Party is over, leave them alone now,” the voice he hears is collected but unyielding, and the Rogue on top of him looks up at the newly-arrived man. It’s a Gunslinger, that much Kibum is sure of: only they have guns as weapons.

The gang then shows a lot of coordination, because as the leader lifts himself up and off Kibum, he doesn’t even have to say anything for another to immediately take his post, except this one grabs Kibum by the collar and drags him up to his feet, turning him around in an armlock that leaves another dagger pressed to his throat. This Rogue is shaking though, and it can be more dangerous and not at the same time. Kibum prefers to wait for the right chance to break free from him.

There is indeed a Gunslinger approaching them, revolver pointed right at the lead Rogue’s head, or at least Kibum assumes. The guy wears his hair in a silver color that Kibum might have never seen before on anyone else. His outfit, on the other hand, doesn’t differ much from other Gunslingers, with his dark, cape-like coat completely open in the front. Its long sleeves are very loose, rimmed with a white and fluffy-looking kind of fur, and they hide half his gloved hands. An exaggerated round silver buckle with four pointy arrows adorns his belt, contrasting with his ordinary dark pants.

“Tell your pals to let them go.” The newly arrived adventurer appears to be shorter than all of the other men, but is also fearless. He stops at a safe distance from the Rogue, for only an idiot would get too close given how good at stealing things those bastards are, no matter if it’s a weapon being used against them at the very moment.

Kibum was right not to underestimate that Rogue’s intelligence, he finds out when the scary-looking man does as he’s told. It would be also very stupid to disobey a Gunslinger standing just a few meters from him with a gun ready to shoot.

Out of spite, as soon as he’s freed Kibum turns around and punches the Rogue that had been holding him right in the nose, earning a glare from the third one that stands rooted to the ground at some distance from them. No one else seems to care, especially not their leader and the Guns.

“Good,” the man with the gun acquiesces with a small nod. “Now go away.”

There is no immediate response to his command this time around.

“Go away,” he repeats himself more pointedly, cocking his gun for good measure.

Kibum can’t see it, but he is absolutely sure he knows the dirty look the shorter man is being given now, as the Rogue steps back once in a sign of forfeit before calling out to his companions.

“Let’s go,” he says loud enough for it to be understood as a command, but with no intonation in his voice whatsoever. The other three guys all get ready to leave, but none of them move before their leader turns his back on the Gunslinger and starts walking away and past them. Then, the good-hearted adventurers only watch as the pack recedes and their silhouettes vanish in the horizon, as if they’ve never been more than a mirage. Once they’re really gone, Kibum can finally take a good look at their savior, who is now uncocking and lowering his revolver while still staring in the direction the Rogues and Thief disappeared to.

The man is hunky and indeed short, shorter than him, but that doesn’t detract from his authority or confidence, Kibum thinks. He must be a high level Gunslinger, and the shiny platinum hair says he’s a fan of Stylists too, just like himself.

“Hello there,” his voice once again startles Kibum, but now he realizes he’d been staring at the guy that now beams at him like nothing has even happened. He walks towards Kibum, and the latter thinks he’s going to extend his hand to him or something, but the other simply stops before him and gives him an acknowledging nod. “I’m Kim Jonghyun. It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Key,” Kibum says, clearly taken aback by the other’s friendliness.

“It’s nice to meet you, Key,” Jonghyun then finishes.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Kibum replies automatically. He has absolutely no idea how to act; he isn’t used to exchanges like this. Every interaction he’s had with people up to here has been in battles, one-on-one ones at that, or strictly formal, with the exception of one or two Kafra employees he’s been friendly to in his life. He doesn’t join parties or Guilds; he’s on his own and has always preferred it this way. It’s very weird that he can tell this is going to change now and that it’s beyond him to do anything about it.

Heavy steps on the sand and the squeak of wooden wheels in motion make both of them look in the direction of the harassed Merchant, who still holds this dismay look in his eyes as though fearing the attack isn’t over yet. He has a haggard complexion too, that makes him look old and weak, certainly not able to fend for himself. The man walks up to them on the brink of tears.

“Thank you, young men, thank you for saving me,” he cries out, brandishing his clasped hands at them as though he’s begging for mercy instead. The gesture elicits warm, compassionate smiles from both Kibum and Jonghyun.

“It’s okay,” Jonghyun tells him, placing a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I can never thank you enough, I would do anything to show my gratitude!” The Merchant goes on almost deliriously. Something occurs to Kibum then, and he fully turns at the man with his eyes narrowed inquisitively, to which the man flinches. Jonghyun scowls at him, ready to ask why he’s giving the Merchant that look, but Kibum beats him to the talking.

“Would you happen to have any Assassin weapons in your inventory?”

The gaunt old man lowers his gaze for a moment, eyeballs moving frantically as he seems to search for that information in his shock-impaired memory. Then he lights up, focusing on Kibum again with glimmering eyes.

“Yes! Yes, young man! I do have what you need!” He turns on his heels to rummage through his cart, which is a bottomless pit just like every other Merchant cart. At last, the man pulls out a beautiful pair of Jamadhars from it, presenting them to Kibum like a treasure, and the Assassin’s eyes shine like they’re really seeing one.

“I have these remarkable Jamadhars in my inventory, young man, and I offer them to you as a token of my gratitude for saving my life,” he says, very eager to return their favor somehow. Kibum can’t help thinking that his luck is finally compensating for all his misfortunes lately, as he takes the weapons being handed to him with both hands.

“Thank you, good Merchant,” he smiles, attaching the katars to his sides where his garment is designed to hold them.

Jonghyun keeps eyeing him with some suspicion, but he and Kibum bid their farewells to the Merchant as the man leaves, thanking them until they cannot see or hear him anymore.

“You shouldn’t have accepted the katars,” the Gunslinger turns to Kibum and scolds him, which kind of baffles Kibum since they barely know each other.

“I don’t have zeny to buy them myself,” he shrugs. “Did you want me to keep walking around defenseless?”

“That wouldn’t be a problem now that I’m around,” the platinum-headed man says, lips stretching into a cocky grin.

Jonghyun’s words make Kibum realize two things: that this man has just subtly invited himself to tag along in his journey, and that he will eventually regret letting him. He rolls his eyes and starts making his way back where he came from.

His point is proven when Jonghyun catches up with him soon after that, scowling.

“You should pay me dinner. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t have those Jamadhars now.”

The newly added weight to each side of his hips will always remind Kibum of that.





Footnotes:

Assassin: Official Assassin concept for RO (http://northarc.com/images/vg-ragnarok/assassin_m.jpg). Key’s Assassin sprite as seen in the game: (http://i.imgur.com/PMK2CpM.png)

Cards: Cards are items that are dropped by monsters in the games Ragnarok Online and Ragnarok Online II. These cards have special effects and prove vital in battle. In Ragnarok Online, cards can be compounded into Weapons and Gear that have slots. The effect of the card varies. It can add statuses, increase maximum HP or SP. Each monster has its own card and the drop rate varies, although most linger around the 0.001% range. That means cards are one of the most difficult items to get from monsters. An Archangeling card as seen in the game (http://file5.ratemyserver.net/items/large/4241.gif)

Combat Knife: Military combat knife made for battles against DemiHuman monsters. (http://file5.ratemyserver.net/items/large/1228.gif)

Damascus: A lethal knife made of a special metal that can easily cut straight into the heart of an enemy. Indestructible (except in upgrade attempts). (http://file5.ratemyserver.net/items/large/1226.gif)

Gunslinger: Official Gunslinger concept for RO: (http://i.imgur.com/xwrAkuR.png). Alternative: (http://i.imgur.com/FOEenXa.jpg) Jonghyun’s Gunslinger sprite as seen in the game: (http://i.imgur.com/oasn0C0.png)

Jamadhar: A specially made katar with two blades that move like scissors to reveal a third blade from within. (http://file5.ratemyserver.net/items/large/1255.gif)

Kafra Corporation: The Kafra Corporation is a company that provides transportation services as well as cart rental and item storage services to adventurers in the Rune-Midgarts Kingdom. Most Kafra employees will rent out carts to Merchant class customers, Falcons to Archer class customers and Peco Pecos to Knight class customers, among other services.

Katars: A set of daggers in which the blades are positioned above the knuckles for use in close range combat. There are many types of Katars, most having specific names, but the most common ones are called simply Katars. (http://file5.ratemyserver.net/items/large/1253.gif)

Zeny: Zeny is the main currency of the Ragnarok universe. Everything from food, clothing, and weapons cost zeny. It’s not the only currency, but it’s the only one used in Ragnarok Online.