MMORPG: REBORN MARK ADVENTURE IN ONLINE GAME

Raven smirked. Most players would have avoided this chaos, fearing the disruption it would bring. But to him, chaos was an opportunity.If he killed Garrett and his Level 5 brother appeared, Viles Town would become a warzone. Players would be forced to fight, guilds would clash, and prices for gear, potions, and services would skyrocket.And who would be sitting on the sidelines, raking in the profits?Him.With everyone distracted, he could level up in peace while also selling alchemy potions at inflated prices. Healing items, buffs, antidotes—everything would be in high demand.Now, he just needed to eliminate Garrett and let the chaos begin.

Raven's smirk widened as he watched Garrett extort another group of frustrated players at the town gate. Everyone saw him as an obstacle—a thug who needed to be dealt with. But to Raven, Garrett was the key to something much bigger.If he played this right, Viles Town would be turned upside down, and Raven would be the one profiting from the madness.The Plan: Kill Garrett, Summon the Mad DogIn his past life, Garrett's death had been an accident—an overreaction from a third-rate guild. But Raven wasn't leaving this to chance. He would kill Garrett intentionally, knowing exactly what would happen next.Garrett's older brother would appear.A Level 5 enforcer, stronger, more aggressive, and without any interest in money. Unlike Garrett, who at least gave players a choice—pay or fight—his brother attacked everyone on sight. He was less of a thug and more of a storm of violence, cutting through anyone unlucky enough to cross his path.The moment he arrived, Viles Town would descend into chaos.

Raven moved with purpose. A silent kill meant precision—no mess, no witnesses, just a body left behind for the system to process naturally. He needed the perfect location, the right timing, and a clean escape.

Raven knew that assassinations weren't just about the strike—they were about control. He needed to dictate where and how Garrett died, ensuring no interference, no witnesses, and most importantly, a clean escape. A bad kill meant unwanted attention, and in a town like this, attention could be fatal.

Scouting the Kill Zone

The streets of Viles Town were lively, filled with merchants, beggars, and rowdy adventurers looking for trouble. The town's central square, where Garrett often loitered, was far too public. The tavern, where he did most of his drinking, was a death trap—too many eyes, too many possible interferences.

Raven needed a place where sound wouldn't travel, where shadows provided cover, and most importantly, where Garrett's body wouldn't be found immediately.

He moved through the town with calculated steps, observing every alley, every side street. Some were too exposed—lined with broken carts and occupied by vagrants. Others were too deep in the slums, where the presence of a dead body might not even register as unusual. That wasn't good either—he wanted Garrett's corpse to be discovered, but only after he was long gone.

Then, he found it.

A narrow alley just behind the Black Lantern Tavern. It had all the right elements:

Walls high enough to trap sound. The alley was squeezed between two old stone buildings, their walls close enough to prevent noise from carrying. Even a muffled struggle wouldn't be heard from the street.

Only one entrance visible from the main road. If someone saw Garrett enter, they'd assume he was just relieving himself or handling some shady business.

Crates and barrels for cover. If Raven needed to hide, he had plenty of options. If he needed to escape, he could vault over the barrels and scale a low section of the wall to disappear onto the rooftops.

A single flickering lantern. Light was minimal, casting long, shifting shadows—perfect for blending in.

This was the spot. Now, he just needed to bring Garrett here.

Predicting Garrett's Movements

Garrett wasn't a cautious man. He thrived on intimidation, assuming no one in Viles Town had the guts to challenge him. That arrogance made him predictable.

Every night, his routine was the same:

1. Drink at the Black Lantern. He'd be loud, harassing patrons and shoving around his underlings.

2. Step outside when something annoyed him. Whether it was a spilled drink, a bad dice roll, or some drunk mouthing off, Garrett had a habit of storming out to handle things personally.

3. Chase after trouble if it involved his money or pride. If someone stole from him or insulted him, he wouldn't hesitate to follow them into the dark.

Raven could use that. He didn't need to force Garrett into the alley—he just needed to suggest it, letting the thug's own instincts do the work.

Setting the Trap

Now came the real preparation. To get Garrett alone, he had to manipulate the right pieces.

A good assassination wasn't just about killing—it was about controlling the enemy's actions before the strike. Garrett had to enter the alley willingly, without hesitation or suspicion. That meant baiting him with something he couldn't ignore.

Raven had two things working in his favor:

1. Garrett's short temper. He was a thug who thrived on dominance. If something challenged his authority, he wouldn't let it slide.

2. His greed. If he saw a chance for easy money, he'd take it without thinking.

A good assassination started long before the blade was drawn. It began with careful planning, controlling the enemy's environment, and ensuring they made mistakes before the strike ever came.Raven's first move wasn't the kill itself—it was making Garrett easier to manipulate. A man like him, who thrived on power and intimidation, needed to be put in a state where he was reacting instead of thinking. That meant throwing him off balance, forcing him into a situation where he would act on impulse rather than caution.And the best way to do that? Disrupt his night.---Scouting the TargetRaven had been watching Garrett for nearly an hour from a concealed perch near the Black Lantern Tavern, an establishment as filthy and dangerous as the man himself. The air reeked of sweat, stale beer, and the occasional whiff of blood—an expected side effect of a place that saw more brawls than actual business.Inside, Garrett held court like a king among rats. He sat at a wide table near the back, surrounded by his lackeys. His loud, boisterous laughter cut through the noise of the tavern, the sound of a man who believed himself untouchable.He shoved a passing barmaid out of his way, barked orders for more drinks, and slammed a fist on the table whenever one of his men said something he didn't like. His presence infected the space—most of the patrons gave his group a wide berth, wisely choosing not to get involved.Raven noted everything:Garrett's seating position—back to the wall, view of the entrance, a predictable but effective move for a paranoid thug.The number of men with him—five, all armed, though most were too deep into their drinks to be fully aware.His drinking habits—heavily indulging but still controlled, not yet drunk enough to lose caution.But one of his men was a different story.---Selecting the TargetRaven's eyes settled on a younger thug, seated close to Garrett, clearly eager to impress him. The kid—probably no older than twenty—laughed too hard at Garrett's jokes, nodded too eagerly at every word, and drank far more than his tolerance allowed.Perfect.A man trying too hard to fit in was predictable, desperate, and easy to manipulate. He'd be Raven's tool for disruption.Raven reached into his belt pouch, fingers brushing against a set of razor-thin throwing darts. Each was coated with a weak paralytic poison—nothing deadly, just enough to make someone lightheaded, sluggish, and disoriented.One dart, one perfectly timed strike, and chaos would follow.---The StrikeRaven adjusted his stance, hidden in the shadows near a wooden support beam. From here, he had a clear shot—just enough distance for precision, but close enough that the dart wouldn't lose effectiveness.He exhaled slowly. Focused. Released.The dart whispered through the air, barely visible in the dim tavern light. It found its mark just below the thug's ribs, slipping past the fabric of his tunic without drawing attention.For a moment, nothing happened.Then, the effects began to set in.---Chaos UnfoldsThe young thug twitched, his face suddenly tightening in confusion. His fingers trembled against the rim of his mug, and then— his grip failed.Ale sloshed over the table. The heavy wooden mug tumbled, knocking over Garrett's own drink, spilling it across the table and into the brute's lap.A hush fell over the immediate area.Garrett's expression darkened in an instant."You stupid bastard!" he roared, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he lunged forward. His meaty fist slammed down on the table, rattling dishes and sending loose coins skittering to the floor.The poisoned thug tried to speak—his lips moved, but the words slurred. His vision swam, legs suddenly unsteady as he tried to rise, only to stumble into a chair instead.Garrett didn't care why."You can't even hold your damn drink?" Garrett snarled, his voice filled with disgust. "I ought to break your damn nose!"The thug barely managed to stay upright, blinking in sluggish confusion as his body fought against the poison's effects.Garrett had no patience for weakness. He seized the younger man by the collar, lifting him with ease before shoving him toward the exit."I said, get the hell outside before I put you in the ground!"The crowd gave them space, some looking amused, others wisely keeping their heads down. The thug stumbled through the door, barely able to stay on his feet.Garrett followed, still grumbling about his useless underlings.---Raven's Plan UnfoldsPerfect.Garrett was already frustrated, his blood boiling from the minor embarrassment. He was off-balance, pissed off, and less cautious than before.And now, he was outside.Exactly where Raven needed him to be.