I Obtained The Abyssal Harbinger Mythical Class At Level 1

The world had changed overnight. The Wildlands Unleashed update had turned a game of adventure into a game of survival, and players were quick to adapt. Trust was now a commodity, alliances a necessity. And at the heart of it all, power—whether through wealth, skill, or influence—had become the new currency.

Ethan and Brandon stood at the edge of Redleaf Village, watching as a new structure was being erected near the central plaza. A banner flapped in the wind, bearing the symbol of two crossed swords encircled by a golden ring.

"That wasn't here yesterday," Brandon remarked.

Ethan nodded. His Abyssal Harbinger instincts told him that this structure was more than it seemed. As they approached, the system's notification confirmed his suspicions.

[Faction Hall Established]

Players can now form factions to band together for protection and power. Factions can claim territory, impose rules, and set taxes. Rivalries between factions are encouraged. Rewards will be given to factions with the most influence.]

Ethan exchanged a glance with Brandon. "This changes everything."

Within hours, the plaza was alive with activity. Players clustered in groups, whispering and scheming. Leaders emerged, rallying others with promises of safety and prosperity.

One faction called Iron Vow was the first to formalize. Led by a charismatic swordsman named Darius, the faction immediately set its sights on controlling Redleaf Village.

"We'll provide sanctuary," Darius announced to the crowd. "Join us, and you'll be safe from the chaos of the Wildlands."

Ethan watched from the sidelines, unimpressed. "Safety comes with a price," he muttered.

The price became evident when Darius's faction began demanding taxes from players who sought refuge in Redleaf. A percentage of all loot earned in the Wildlands was now required to stay within the village's walls.

The ripple effects of player-killing and loot-stealing were felt immediately. High-tier items became scarce, and their prices skyrocketed in the player-driven economy.

"5 gold for a mid-tier healing potion?" Brandon exclaimed as they browsed the market.

Ethan frowned. "It's not just the potions. Look at the weapons and armor—they're almost impossible to find unless you're willing to pay a fortune."

In the shadows of the plaza, a black market had begun to form. Players whispered about secret trades and hidden vendors willing to sell high-tier items—if you could afford the exorbitant prices.

Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that some of the scarcity was being orchestrated. "Someone's manipulating the economy," he said. "Probably one of these new factions trying to consolidate power."

The chaos extended beyond players. NPCs, who had always been background figures in the game, were now reacting to the upheaval.

In Redleaf Village, the mayor—a stern man named Gregor—stood before the assembled players.

"We will not tolerate murderers within these walls," Gregor declared. "From this day forward, any player with a bounty on their head will be refused entry to Redleaf Village. Those already inside will be escorted out by force."

A murmur ran through the crowd.

"What about sanctuary?" a player called out.

Gregor's expression hardened. "Sanctuary is a privilege, not a right. If you want protection, you'll abide by our rules."

Ethan felt a chill run down his spine. NPCs were no longer passive. They were taking an active role in shaping the world.

As Ethan and Brandon left the village to avoid drawing attention, they stumbled upon a gruesome scene in the Wildlands.

A group of players had been ambushed and killed, their corpses lying in a bloody heap. Another group stood over them, looting their bodies.

Ethan clenched his fists. "This is what the game has become."

One of the looters noticed them and called out. "You two want to be next?"

Brandon stepped forward, his sword drawn. "Back off."

The looters laughed, but they didn't approach. They recognized Ethan, the infamous Abyss Harbinger.

"We'll see you soon, Harbinger," the leader sneered before disappearing into the forest.

That night, Ethan and Brandon sat by a campfire, discussing their next move.

"We need allies," Brandon said. "This world is too dangerous to face alone."

Ethan shook his head. "Allies are liabilities. The moment they think you're a threat, they'll turn on you."

"So what's your plan? Keep running and fighting until you're the only one left?"

Ethan didn't answer. He stared into the flames, his mind racing.

The factions were growing stronger. The economy was being manipulated. And now the NPCs were enforcing laws. The world was spiraling into chaos, and he needed to find a way to stay ahead.

As they rested, Ethan's thoughts drifted to the lore of The New World. The update had come with a cryptic message about the factions' purpose:

"The factions are not just tools for survival. They are the keys to unlocking the secrets of the Wildlands. Only through unity or conquest will the truth of this world be revealed."

Ethan's gaze hardened. "If this is about unity or conquest, then we'll have to choose a side. But not yet. Not until we know more."