The cara feed pulled back from Village B12, revealing the full chaos erupting at its gates.
No longer was it just a quiet novice village.
It had transford into a war camp.
Guild banners whipped in the wind—Erald Claw, Violet Serpents, Dragonbone Circle—so of the most infamous nas in both the ga and real-world gaming circles. Known strears, retired military tacticians, and wealthy players decked out in high-tier custom armor had all descended here, drawn by one overwhelming incentive:
The Hidden Class unlocked by the Monster Tide event.
They weren’t here to help.
They were here to claim.
A Hidden Class was a prize that could reshape a build, form the core of an empire, and even dictate the course of future wars.
Amid the sea of voices—players shouting orders, casting buffs, and scrambling to form half-organized attack teams—one figure stood unnoticed.
No guild crest marked his armor.
There was no glow of rare enchantnts around him.
His sword remained at his side.
He looked like just another face in the ocean of beginners—one more adventurer in basic gear, swept up in the frenzy.
Of course, that figure... was .
***
Gods, this was perfect.
I couldn’t help but grin as I watched the chaos unfold in front of .
It was just as wild as I’d expected—an army of overconfident noobs running around with oversized weapons and even bigger egos. So had declared themselves "generals," barking out commands and claiming they’d lead their groups to victory.
Yeah. Good luck with that.
I simply slid into one of the warrior teams, hood drawn up, face down, silent.
They didn’t know . I didn’t care to know them.
My objective was simple:
Sneak into the ss, stay under the radar, and snipe the boss kill with magic.
By slipping into a front-line warrior group, I’d be perfectly positioned. If I struck first, the mage parties would take the bla, not .
Smart, right?
As for Puddle—he was safely tucked away in my Tar space. I wasn’t about to risk him out in the open.
Among all the beginner pets—boars, wolves, birds—a sli wouldn’t turn heads.
Unless...
Soone had a halfway decent Appraisal skill.
If even one player scanned Puddle too thoroughly, they’d imdiately see:
[Rare – Ancient Creature: Black King of White Rivers]
And if that got out?
Forget monsters. Players would co for my head.
Everyone knew the stories.
Even the in-ga lore books in the starter cities hinted at Ancient Creatures—entities of imnse power, capable of tipping battles and commanding the fate of entire wars. Discovering one in a beginner zone?
Unthinkable.
Unbelievable.
And absolutely worth killing soone over.
So yeah, for now, Puddle stayed hidden.
Then a booming voice cut through the noise from up ahead.
"Alright, listen up!"
A man strode forward like he owned the entire forest. His armor glinted in the sunlight—silver and gold, engraved with glowing runes and dotted with precious stones. A full Epic-tier set. Clearly purchased, not earned. And everyone knew it.
"I’ll be leading this squad," he declared, slamming his jewel-crusted sword into the dirt.
"Na’s Moneyking!"
I looked up at his naplate:
[Moneyking] – Level 10 – Class: None
Yep. That tracked.
Of course he didn’t have a class yet. Nobody did. Not unless they’d already made it out of the Novice Zone.
Well—except .
, with my Ancient Tar class, hiding behind a humble cloak, a smirk, and a bubble of rare, world-changing power disguised as a sli.
They had to grind and pray.
I just bent the rules.
Still, I had to admit—Moneyking had his uses.
Not because he was talented.
Not because he was smart.
But because people looked at him, not .
The crowd around him buzzed with attention and admiration. So even clapped or shouted support.
"Let’s go, Moneyking!"
"Lead us to that Hidden Class!"
"Follow his lead!"
It was the kind of frenzy only a rich player with shiny toys could ignite.
Epic armor at Level 10?
That was like showing up to a pebble fight with a siege weapon.
But nobody pointed out the obvious:
He had no class.
No experience.
Just money and gear.
And he wasn’t alone.
Across the staging area, other squads were assembling—each led by soone just like him:
Guild-favored elites.
Trust-fund prodigies.
Strears backed by corporate sponsors.
All Level 10.
All brand new like the rest of us.
Each one had their own squad of fifty players, ard to the teeth, well-coordinated, and laser-focused on one prize:
The Hidden Class drop.
No one openly admitted it, but everyone knew the truth.
They weren’t here for honor, friendship, or a good story.
They were here because the system broadcast said sothing incredible:
A Level 50 Field Boss had appeared... in a Novice Zone.
And more importantly?
That boss had a chance to drop a Hidden Class.
It didn’t say guaranteed, just possible.
But that was more than enough.
Because a Hidden Class wasn’t just a cool title. It was power.
While normal classes gave you a decent build, reliable growth, and predictable skills, Hidden Classes? They changed everything.
Unique skill trees.
Never-before-seen abilities.
Combat chanics no one could counter.
Unless soone else got the sa Hidden Class—or so idiot leaked their ability list online just to chase clout—players couldn’t guess what you were capable of.
And in PvP?
Unpredictability is king.
Eventually, sure, those advantages would fade.
Eventually, people would learn the chanics, test counters, and datamine builds.
But not now.
Not this early.
Right now, Hidden Classes were pure, undisputed cheat codes.
That’s why the field was packed.
That’s why the race was on.
Even though the system never promised a class would drop... just the possibility had triggered a storm.
And I?
I was already in position.
Let them fight.
Let them charge.
Let them bleed.
And then—when the mont’s right?
I’ll take everything.
So, for now, I am simply waiting while looking at the whales(rich Players) who are now leading the groups and strategizing.
’Damm, this Strategy might work’ I couldn’t help but thought as they spoke of the strategy, it was really an good strategy after all.
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