I Don't Need To Log Out-Chapter 95: Trap

The copy and Wok were talking under the star-studded sky in the quiet of the night.

Though it was Arlon’s time to rest and Wok’s turn to keep watch, Arlon chose to stay up. Not for idle conversation, but to subtly extract information and set his trap.

Yet, as their conversation unfolded, Arlon quickly realized there might not even be a need for subterfuge.

"Arlon, are you married? Or do you have someone you value?" Wok asked suddenly, his pointy wolf nose flaring with each breath as he subtly checked the scents around them.

"No, I don’t have such a person," Arlon replied evenly.

"Really? Not even a friend?" Wok pressed, his tone neutral but probing.

"My job requires me to travel," Arlon explained. "So, I don’t get close to the people I meet. What about you?"

Wok’s sharp features softened. "I have a wife and two daughters."

"That must be nice," Arlon said, his voice steady but genuine.

"It is nice," Wok admitted, his gaze distant. Then, after a brief pause, he sighed heavily. "But… Arlon, you must have realized by now. I don’t like the saviors."

"I had a hunch," Arlon replied, carefully gauging Wok’s reaction.

"Want me to tell you why?"

"If you want to tell me, I’m ready to listen."

Wok’s shoulders sagged slightly as he began, his voice carrying a weight of suppressed grief and anger.

"Sigh… I had three children: one boy and two girls. My son was around your age and getting ready to be an administrator. He was a fox Beastman like his mother."

He paused, a faint growl underlying his words as he continued.

"You probably know the process—frontline assignments as a test to become an administrator. They need people with real experience there."

Arlon nodded. "I’ve heard of it."

"He was deployed to one of the frontline towns," Wok said, his claws digging slightly into the ground. "We were worried, of course. The frontlines are always dangerous. But death… death is normal in wartime. I’ve accepted that."

His voice hardened. "However… he didn’t die in battle. At least, not the way you’d think."

Arlon remained silent, letting Wok continue at his own pace.

"This is second-hand information," Wok admitted, his teeth baring slightly, "but I learned that my son didn’t die because of those damned Keldars’ attacks."

His golden eyes burned with fury as he clenched his fists. "He was escorting a group of saviors. But those scumbags… they left him in the middle of a Keldar ambush to save their own skins."

Arlon had already suspected something like this. The players, especially in the early days of EVR, had a history of abandoning Trionians or treating them as disposable NPCs.

This wasn’t news to him, but hearing it in such raw, personal terms was sobering.

Wok’s voice broke slightly as he continued, his anger giving way to grief. "They didn’t even bother to retrieve his body. My wife… she couldn’t bear it. She still cries every night. And my daughters… they’re too young to understand why their brother isn’t coming home."

Arlon remained composed, but inside, he felt a pang of guilt—not for his actions, but for the careless, cruel actions of other players who had treated this world like a game.

"I understand your hatred," Arlon said after a long pause, his tone steady but empathetic.

He had already canceled his original plan to use Wok as a way to infiltrate the anti-saviors. Wok wasn’t just a tool to be manipulated—he was a grieving father, a victim of senseless betrayal.

"But not everyone is the same," Arlon added. His words were careful, deliberate.

Wok exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping. "I know that. I do. But..." He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms. "The thing I don’t understand is, aren’t they here to save us? So, why—"

Arlon cut in gently. "They’re normal people like us, Wok. They come from a peaceful world where wars are things they read about, not things they live. They don’t know what war is—what survival costs."

He paused, meeting Wok’s burning gaze. "Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not defending what they did or what some of them are still doing. But it’s not fair to blame all of them for the actions of a few. Aren’t there bad people among us too?"

He couldn’t tell the other Trionians that the saviors thought this was a game. If that were to be learned, a big chaos would occur.

On the other hand, it was also impossible to tell the players that this wasn’t a game. Who would believe such a thing?

Even a small group was hardly convinced.

Wok’s fiery expression softened, replaced by a shadow of thoughtfulness. "You’re right," he admitted reluctantly. "But still… knowing that doesn’t change anything. My son won’t come back. Ever."

His voice cracked slightly, betraying the pain he’d tried so hard to mask. "And it’s not just me. There are so many others like me out there. Even some of the ones sleeping inside that tent tonight… they’ve lost people too."

Arlon sighed deeply, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "No matter what I say, it won’t ease your grief. I’m sorry. I probably can’t even begin to understand your pain—I’ve never had someone like that in my life."

The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by the crackle of the campfire. Finally, Arlon spoke again, his tone resolute. "But let me promise you something. If you need me, I’ll help you. As long as the request isn’t something I can’t do, you have my word. If you want, I’ll even join the anti-saviors."

Wok’s ears perked up in surprise, and his golden eyes narrowed. "Huh? I’m not—" He stopped himself mid-sentence, then sighed heavily. "Ah, it seems there’s no point in hiding it. Did you already know?"

"Again, I had a hunch," Arlon said with a faint smile. "But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone." Arlon honestly thought so. He wouldn’t tell anyone about this, including Zephyrion.

Wok studied Arlon carefully as if weighing the truth of his words. Then he nodded. "I actually wanted you to meet someone from the anti-saviors. She’ll be here tomorrow. But… I was about to cancel. You don’t hate the saviors, after all."

"You’re right—I don’t hate them. But that doesn’t mean I don’t condemn what they’ve done," Arlon explained. "I may not have suffered as much as you, but I’ve had my fair share of trouble with the saviors too."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze firm. "I believe they need to be put in order. If the anti-saviors’ goal is really about creating order, then I want to help. So, please, let me meet this person tomorrow. You can tell her everything I’ve said—I don’t mind. I believe I can contribute."

Wok stared at Arlon for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, finally, he nodded. "I see. Okay. I’ll let you meet her tomorrow."

Arlon leaned back slightly, exhaling in quiet relief. He had achieved his goal without manipulation or deceit—only by listening, understanding, and offering genuine help.

Of course, Arlon thought as he glanced toward the darkened horizon, that is if their goal really is order among the players.

The night grew quieter, and the crackling fire dimmed slightly as Wok rose to begin his watch in earnest and Arlon went into the tent to sleep.

---

When everyone woke up, the forest was bathed in the faint blue light of dawn.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long, soft shadows across the damp earth. The air was crisp and clean, almost biting as it filled their lungs with each breath.

Arlon took a deep inhale, feeling the cold air sting his chest. It was refreshing, though it reminded him how long it had been since he’d experienced such a simple, natural moment.

"Ready?" one of the dog Beastmen asked, his tail wagging slightly as he looked at the group.

"Yes, let’s go!" Wok answered with a sharp nod.

The group set off toward a muddy area where they knew boars gathered to sleep.

The recent rain had left patches of thick, sticky mud, making their progress slower and more cumbersome.

The weather in Kelta itself was controlled by Maguses, keeping it perpetually dry and temperate. But out here, in the wilds, nature still reigned.

The rain had only stopped the day before, leaving the forest soaked and muddy.

Hunting wasn’t something Arlon especially liked. But he wanted to tag along and see what this was about.

Normally, everyone there could single-handedly capture a dozen boar in the span of minutes.

But hunting as an activity was different. They were limiting themselves with crossbows and ropes.

So, it wasn’t an activity to use abilities but one to have fun.

For the next hour, they crouched silently, observing the sleeping boars. The creatures were massive, their thick coats caked with mud as they dozed.

The tension in the air was palpable, but it wasn’t the kind that came with danger. It was the quiet thrill of anticipation, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

When the boars finally began to stir, snorting and grunting as they stretched and shook off the remnants of sleep, the group prepared for action.

Wok raised his hand, signaling them to spread out and take positions. His demeanor was calm, almost jovial, as though the conversation from the previous night hadn’t happened at all.

Arlon observed Wok closely as he led the group. His commands were clear, his movements efficient. It was obvious that Wok had experience, not just in hunting but in leadership.

The group worked in unison, moving silently through the underbrush. The first boar was taken down with a well-placed rope snare, its squeals quickly muffled as two Beastmen held it down.

Arlon joined in, helping to secure another boar. His movements were precise and controlled, though he kept his strength in check. The goal here wasn’t to show off—it was to blend in.

Hours passed as they continued their hunt. The group laughed and joked quietly among themselves, enjoying the camaraderie of the shared activity.

By mid-morning, the group had successfully captured several boars. The animals were tied securely and would be transported back later.

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Arlon noticed Wok glancing toward the edge of the clearing every so often, his ears twitching slightly as if listening for something—or someone.

Finally, just as they were preparing to head back to their camp, the long-awaited guest arrived.

A tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows of the forest. A female Beastman with feline features and piercing green eyes strode into the clearing.

Her steps were confident, her gaze sharp as it scanned the group.

"Good timing," Wok said, his tone casual but respectful.

The woman nodded, her eyes briefly meeting Arlon’s. She said nothing, but the intensity of her gaze made it clear that she was here for more than just a hunt.

Arlon straightened slightly, preparing himself. This was the moment he’d been waiting for.