Prestige Grinding : I Can Reset My Level

François Segment: Level 59, Former Guild Rank: Elder. Current guild: [Retour des Chasseurs].

Current position: Boulevard Gambetta, Nîmes, France.

Gérard Deudeu: Level 53, Former Guild Rank: Member. Current guild: [Retour des Chasseurs].

Current position: Rochers Noirs Dungeon [Level 40 Zone], France.

Nais Verdanks: Level 75, Former Guild Rank: Rookie. Current guild: [Black Mist].

Current position: Napier Road, Karachi, Pakistan.

Gérard Deudeu was the only one outside the safety of a city, so Sora decided to target him first. While Gérard had only held the rank of member in [Rouge Sang], Sora had a hard time imagining that a guild name that meant ’Blood Red’ could possibly be full of naive and innocent players..

Contacting his information broker and asking him to relay François’s position every minute, he departed from Ales.

He quickly arrived near Nîmes, where François Segment was also located, and headed directly to the dungeon. Nîmes, the largest city near Alès, was a place Sora knew well, having visited many times both before and after the world changed. The [Rochers Noirs] dungeon, once a popular tourist attraction, now had its rocks blackened and scorched by the arrival of level 40-45 monsters and a new environment. It was also a good mining spot for those seeking charcoal and some ores he forgot the names of.

Seeing a group of players enter the dungeon, Sora noticed the player he was looking for, Gérard Deudeu. Waiting for François Segment to leave the safety of Nimes, he hid a certain distance away.

A few hours had passed, and at the dungeon entrance, Sora noticed a dozen players arriving, all wearing the [Retour des Chasseurs] guild tag. He quickly recognized Gérard’s guildmates. ’So they’re still hunting players,’ Sora thought darkly. Surrounding a dungeon was extremely suspicious, and Sora had understood their intentions from the way they stood, waiting in ambush.

Before long, a group exited the dungeon, and among them was Gérard Deudeu. He was accompanied by four other players who appeared exhausted from the battles inside. Sora watched as the dozen players slowly surrounded the group. His suspicions were confirmed. Gérard’s guild was using the dungeon as a setup to rob and kill unsuspecting adventurers. ’Some people never change... No need to hold back then’ He mused.

Not too far from the scene, Kara sat calmly on a tree branch, with Hiyoko perched on her lap. Her gaze sharpened when she saw the group closing in on the weakened party. She shook her head in disapproval, feeling a strong urge to step in and drain the life from the ambushers. However, she refrained, instead feeding Hiyoko some snacks while honing her innate skill by manipulating small zones of time around her, freezing and accelerating them at will.

Gérard smiled smugly as his guildmates surrounded the adventurers. He knew what was coming. The leader of the party, a young archer named Dorian, noticed the ambush and called out cautiously, "What do you guys want?" He quickly messaged his party, telling them to prepare for a fight.

"Nothing much," the leader of the ambushing group said casually. "That traitor behind you stole gold from our treasury."

Dorian turned to Gérard. "Is it true? Did you rob them?"

Gérard, feigning innocence, replied, "No! I swear, Dorian, they’re lying. We’ve been through many dungeons, and you’ve known my character for more than a week now; I’m not someone who would take advantage of others."

Dorian nodded slowly. "I didn’t think you were a thief, but I had to ask. But why didn’t you leave the guild if you had such bad blood with them?"

Gérard spun his tale quickly, "I was worried about my little brother, who’s still in the guild and needs my protection. I needed to farm gold to repay what they falsely accused me of stealing. They said they’d leave us alone if I paid the full amount. That is why I joined your group."

Convinced, Dorian turned back to the ambushers. "Do you have any proof of these accusations?"

The ambushers, clearly bored of the conversation, didn’t bother responding. Their leader simply raised a hand, signaling the attack.

The ambush was swift. The dozen players attacked in pairs and trios, quickly overwhelming the tired party. Dorian barely had time to react before chaos broke out.

Dorian’s party found themselves completely drained of mana after beating the dungeon, their spells growing weaker with every cast. Desperation was settling in, and Dorian, recognizing that their situation had become dire, called out to his teammates.

"Use your escape tools! Now!" he shouted in the party chat, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. He glanced around as his team took invisibility scrolls, teleportation talismans, anything that could get them out of this ambush alive.

But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Gérard moving—deliberately. Gérard, standing behind their healer, was reaching out, blade in hand, not towards the enemies but towards the teleportation scroll she held. Time seemed to slow for Dorian as Gérard slashed at the fragile parchment.

"No!" Dorian shouted, but it was too late. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Dorian screamed at Gérard, panic lacing his voice as the realization dawned on him. They were being betrayed.

Gérard didn’t even flinch at Dorian’s outburst. Instead, he simply smirked—a cold smile—as the rest of his guildmates moved in to finish the job. They had managed to interrupt all the players from using their escape tools, and Dorian’s party, already tired from the dungeon, stood no chance against the ambushers.

"This was your plan all along," Dorian muttered bitterly, his gaze flickering between Gérard and the advancing enemies. His voice was shaky, but his grip on his bow tightened, refusing to give in without a fight.

"I tried to tell you," Gérard said with a mocking tone, stepping back as his guildmates advanced. "But you were too naive, Dorian."

As Gérard raised his sword to deliver the final blow, his eyes beamed with satisfaction. Dorian, injured and drained, could barely lift his arms to defend himself. Looking at his healer, she didn’t seem to be doing much better, so he couldn’t expect any help. The blade cut through the air, aiming straight for Dorian’s neck, but just as it was about to connect, a barrier appeared out of nowhere, halting the strike with a loud clang.

The shockwave spread through the battlefield, sending Gérard stumbling backward in surprise. His eyes widened, his blade vibrating from the force. "What the…?" he muttered, bewildered by the sudden interruption.

The rest of his guildmates, sensing something was off, hesitated, looking around for the source of the disturbance. And then they saw him.

Someone emerged from the shadows, calm yet exuding an overwhelming pressure that made the entire battlefield shudder in fear. His steps were slow, deliberate, his presence suffocating. Sora had a cold look in his eyes, one that sent shivers down the spines of everyone present. His hand reached for what seemed to be a staff strapped to his back, his aura flaring around him like a storm about to break.The dozen attackers surrounding the group tried probing for his level, but their faces contorted in horror as they found nothing—they couldn’t see his level at all.

"Gérard… I wanted to have a chat with you. Do you have a few minutes?" Sora’s voice was calm. His gaze shifted from Gérard to the surrounding attackers, his expression unreadable. He had just received the message he was waiting for, and could finally act.

"W-With me?! What did I do?!" Gérard’s voice wavered, panic bubbling beneath the surface. He didn’t recognize the figure standing before him but feared the worst. ’Did I kill some big shot’s family member without knowing? Damn it, we always made sure no one escapes alive!’ His thoughts raced, anxiety twisting inside him.

But Sora didn’t respond to the outburst. He simply continued walking, his mana swirling ominously. Before Gérard could react further, Sora tightened his grip over the staff. In an instant, he vanished from sight, reappearing directly in front of one of Gérard’s guildmates. There was no warning, no chance for defense. Sora’s staff shone as it sliced through the air, slicing through the man’s head cleanly in a single motion. Blood sprayed, but Sora had already disappeared.

One by one, Gérard’s allies fell, their bodies hitting the ground before they even registered what had happened. The speed and precision of Sora’s movements were terrifying. He was a blur of raw power and skill, his strikes so fast that his enemies didn’t even have time to scream.

One of the attackers raised a shield, only for it to shatter like fragile glass under the weight of Sora’s blow. Another tried casting a spell, only to watch in horror as Sora flicked his wrist, effortlessly redirecting the mana surge back at his face. The caster barely had time to register the pain before Sora silenced him with a single slap, erasing him from existence in an instant.

Bodies dropped, one after another, like insects caught in a windshield. Blood pooled around the battlefield, but Sora remained untouched, his movements too fast, too flawless for anyone to counter. His opponents never stood a chance.

In less than a minute, the entire ambush team lay dead, save for Gérard.

Sora stood amid the carnage, his staff dripping with blood. He flicked it aside, sending droplets scattering across Gérard, who had collapsed to his knees, trembling in terror. The once confident swordsman now looked like a broken man, his eyes wide with disbelief and fear.

"No… no… this isn’t possible… We’ve never offended someone this strong…" Gérard stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sora’s gaze was cold, unrelenting. "Have you killed so many players that you can’t even remember who’s coming for revenge, Gérard?" He took a step forward, and Gérard flinched, crawling backward like a cornered rat.

"Please… don’t kill me… I can explain— I’m not the mastermind! I just follow orders!" Gérard’s voice cracked, desperate to save his own skin.

Sora stopped right in front of him, towering over the quivering man. He didn’t raise his staff again. Instead, he spoke with an indifferent tone. "You’ll live… if you tell me what I want to know."

With a single motion, Sora threw Gérard over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Dorian’s party, still reeling from the sudden massacre, watched in stunned silence. Sora spared them a glance, his gaze softening slightly. "You should return to the city… and take care."

Without another word, Sora walked away from the scene of carnage, carrying Gérard with him, heading somewhere more private—somewhere he could extract the information he needed.