Unsheathed - Chapter 2: Open the Door

For the sake of his family, Ren embarked on the popular VRMMORPG, COVENANT, that used real-time in-game currency. But being a mediocre player who only knows how to gather information, he was put in a supporting role.

As the game explodes in popularity and every multibillion-dollar company invested in the game, things have turned for the worse for Ren. Due to the amount of information he gathered, the cheats, secrets, quests, and bugs he discovered, he was silent in fear of selling the information to the other guilds.

But given a second chance, he went back in time when his father was still alive and COVENANT was just in its starting phase.

This time . . . he wouldn’t be that guy on the side who gathered information from day in and day out for ten years.

Equipped with the games knowledge he accumulated, he will become . . . an Alchemist!

Chrono Mage? Djin Master? Summoner? Necromancer?
Chaos Lord?

What good are those?

Sure they’re powerful and rare classes and sought after by guilds, but it’s the alchemist who forged artifacts and concocts rare items and potions that gets the most coins at the end of the day!

It was better than being a blacksmith or a crafter! Plus, he could use all sorts of magic without limit to race and class!

It was the ultimate class! And no one even knows it!

Mesmerizing female moonlight priest, a beauty of the darkness who captivates the soul of others… They all flood to his side!

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”