I Don't Need To Log Out

Chapter 28 Level 100

"How is the monster extermination going? Have we handled all the threats?" Zephyrion asked, his voice steady yet edged with urgency.

It had been almost a week since the report came in, and every high-level administrator had been tasked with locating and exterminating the monsters threatening their realm.

"Sir, we've found 43 suspected monsters underneath or around 37 of the 38 frontline towns and villages," Ben replied, shifting uneasily in his chair. "We're still searching for a monster in Istarra."

Zephyrion's expression darkened slightly, his golden eyes narrowing as he rested his chin on his hand. "I see. What will you do about Istarra, then?" he asked, his tone measured yet probing. Though he was the leader, he valued the input of his allies and sought their growth through decision-making.

"We can't be sure we exterminated the right monsters even in the towns where we found them," Ben admitted, his brow furrowed with concern. "So, we can't send extra forces to Istarra. I'm ashamed as the advisor, but may I ask for your wisdom?" His face reddened, the words seemingly difficult for him to voice.

Zephyrion straightened in his chair and offered a reassuring nod. "It's okay to seek help," he replied. "How about this: let's hold the tournament in Istarra. That way, we can get the help of the deployed guards and start giving quests to the saviors that will come for the event."@@@@

Ben's eyes lit up, relief washing over him like a wave. "Sir, that's a brilliant idea. I'll begin the preparations immediately."

---

Arlon entered Istarra shortly before the servers reopened, the familiar sight of the town filling him with a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. The town looked just as he remembered—unchanged, as though time had frozen since his departure a week ago.

Of course, it was. It couldn't change in only one week!

Reflecting on the emotional debates he'd had with himself about returning after six long months, he felt a little embarrassed. He had agonized over this moment of his return in six months, and yet here he was as if he'd never left.

Determined to make the most of his return, he decided to tour the town and reacquaint himself with its streets that he didn't forget.

Istarra was situated in a warm region of Trion, and its arid appearance was deceiving. The surrounding land was surprisingly fertile, yielding vibrant crops and colorful flowers that adorned select parts of the town.

Tall sunflowers swayed gently in the breeze, their golden heads a cheerful contrast to the town's dusty roads. Yet, the simplicity of its unpaved dirt paths and modest alleyways reinforced the illusion of a harsh, dry landscape.

Arlon wandered aimlessly until something unusual caught his eye—a shop he hadn't noticed before. A clothing store.

The modest wooden sign creaked softly in the wind, and the windows were lined with mannequins dressed in exquisite outfits. It seemed odd to him that he hadn't seen it before, but then again, clothing hadn't been a priority in his previous life.

Clothing wasn't typically necessary for players, after all. They logged out daily and spent most of their logged-in time battling in armor.

This lack of need likely explained why the store had escaped his notice. But today was different. He had events to attend and summons to Kelta to prepare for. Showing up in battle-worn armor wouldn't do.

For the past two weeks, he had been relying on the dirt-repellant starter clothes provided by EVA. They served their purpose well enough, but they were plain and unremarkable.

In fact, players themselves were essentially dirt-repellant—a convenience of the game world that spared them mundane tasks like laundry.

Still, Arlon found solace in polishing his sword, more out of admiration than necessity.

For the next hour, Carnie guided Arlon through a variety of options. She measured his frame, handed him garments to try on, and offered gentle critiques that were as encouraging as they were insightful. The experience was far more enjoyable than he had anticipated.

Finally, Arlon emerged from the store with a satisfied smile. He wore sleek black slacks and a matching shirt—an outfit that reminded him of Earth.

Over it, he draped a black robe, adding a touch of Trion-inspired elegance to his look. In his inventory, he carried additional outfits, including some traditional Trion attire and comfortable sleepwear.

Feeling rejuvenated, he made his way to the Moonlight Potion Store to deliver the medallion. The streets of Istarra seemed more vibrant now as if reflecting his lighter mood.

Arlon had considered absorbing the medallion's experience but remembered Charon's warning: not about the danger—he doubted actual harm would come to him since he was a player—but about its lack of benefit at his current level. Losing Charon's trust wasn't worth the risk.

So, he decided not to risk it and hand it in properly.

Upon entering the potion shop, he overheard Charon muttering under his breath. "I knew it," the elder alchemist said, his voice barely audible.

"Sir Charon, I've brought the medallion. Did you know I was coming?" Arlon asked, stepping forward.

Charon waved dismissively. "Don't worry about that. Kid, you've gotten stronger. But do you think it's enough to call yourself legendary? Agema was legendary! Kirke was legendary! Makel was legendary! Do you think you are on the same level as them?"

"Sir, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I never claimed—" Arlon began, but his words were cut off as a curtain in the corner of the room was swept aside.

A woman in a red robe stepped into view, her expression brightening as she saw him. "Sir Arlon, you have arrived!" Shirl greeted him warmly.

"Miss Shirl, it's good to see you. How have you been?" he replied, bowing slightly.

"I am thankful to you," she said with a gracious smile. "Are you here for the medallion? It seems like you've become even stronger."

Arlon blushed slightly—something that hadn't happened when Charon made a similar remark. "I've been doing well, thank you. Yes, I'm here for the medallion. Sir Charon, here it is."

He handed the medallion to Charon, who didn't take it directly. Instead, with a flick of his wrist, the medallion levitated, wrapped in ethereal bands of light. Moments later, it vanished as if it had never existed.

"You did well not to absorb it," Charon said, his tone approving. His gaze sharpened as he studied Arlon. "It seems you're at a bottleneck. Step closer," he commanded.

Arlon obeyed without hesitation. Charon grasped his wrist, and a golden light flowed from the elder to him, warm and invigorating.

Shirl's expression turned to one of alarm. "Sir Charon, what are you doing? That is—"

"It's okay. Don't worry," Charon interrupted. The golden light dimmed, leaving Arlon with a sense of clarity.

A series of notifications appeared before him:

"You have leveled up. You gained 3 CP."