Ding!

[Congratulations, player Stonehaven for killing the Golden Corpse Soul Digger Demon. Reputation increased by 100. Reward: 1000 gold coins.]

Ding!

[Congratulations, player Stonehaven’s level has increased to 47. HP increased by 10. MP increased by 10. You have 5 attribute points to distribute.]

Two days later, Marcus defeated the three respawned bosses once again and successfully reached Level 47. The progress felt solid, yet the rewards were no longer as exciting as before. Reputation gains had clearly diminished, and even the gold payouts were shrinking. The system was making its rules obvious. Farm the same bosses repeatedly, and the returns gradually decreased.

He opened the loot window and examined the results. Three bosses, and only two pieces of golden equipment.

Compared to his first clears, the difference was almost painful. Back then, he had walked away with two Mythic Artifacts in a single run. Now, Mythic drops felt completely out of reach, and even high-quality golden gear appeared inconsistently.

Repeated farming crushed drop rates.

’Frustrating.’

Even worse, the Corpse Demon Helm still refused to appear. The final piece of the set remained missing, leaving the bonus effects locked away just beyond reach.

He sighed. Another respawn cycle meant another two days of waiting.

Grinding suddenly felt dull. He checked the time and realized it was already late. Logging off sounded far more appealing. Sleep, rest, maybe curl up beside Lily and forget about optimization for a night. He could always return tomorrow.

Or...

He could descend to the third level of the Mystic Turtle’s Tomb, take things slowly, scout the environment, and return to the second floor when the bosses respawned again. Exploration without pressure did sound tempting.

---

The next morning followed his usual routine. Marcus walked Lily and the others toward campus before heading to the track for his daily run. The morning air was cool, carrying the faint freshness that only came before the day truly began.

"Marcus!"

A soft, playful voice called from behind him.

He turned immediately.

Talia stood at the edge of the track, waving with a smile bright enough to make the entire morning seem warmer. Then she began jogging toward him.

She wore loose white athletic clothes, simple and clean, the fabric shifting lightly with each step as the breeze caught it. Nothing about the outfit was revealing, yet it could not hide the graceful proportions of her figure. Long lines, elegant posture, effortless movement. She ran with natural rhythm, every step smooth and balanced, like motion itself favored her.

There was something almost unreal about it.

She looked less like someone exercising and more like a dancer drifting across a stage. Marcus found himself smiling without realizing it.

"Talia."

Of course it was her. No one else moved like that. Only a dance prodigy could carry such instinctive control over their body. Only someone born for movement.

He was far from the only person watching. Conversations around the track quieted as eyes followed her approach. Crestwood’s Campus Queen had that effect. People noticed when she appeared.

The attention was not limited to men. Women watched too, some openly admiring, others unable to hide their envy. Talia Quinn existed at a distance most people never crossed. She was admired, discussed, even idolized, but rarely approached.

Yet here she was, walking straight toward Marcus.

"Marcus, you still run every morning."

She stopped in front of him, barely two feet away.

A faint fragrance reached him, clean and soft, mingling with the cool morning air. She stood close enough that he could feel the warmth lingering from her run. Her breathing had not fully settled yet, giving her presence a quiet vitality that filled the space between them.

Marcus suddenly became very aware of how close she was.

Her loose athletic wear moved gently as she caught her breath, subtle motion drawing attention despite the simplicity of her outfit. Tall and slender yet undeniably feminine, she carried a balance of elegance and softness that was impossible to ignore. Heat radiated faintly from her skin, the afterglow of exercise making her seem alive with energy.

His thoughts stalled.

’I’m in trouble, he admitted silently.’

His heartbeat picked up, his throat dry as he struggled to keep his composure. Standing this close to Talia felt dangerous in a way he had never quite experienced before.

’Easy. Calm down.’

This was Talia Quinn, after all. The woman people jokingly called the vixen. The girl who drove half the men at Crestwood into quiet obsession while remaining untouchable. Admired from afar, desired endlessly, yet never truly approached.

A few days ago she had seemed softer, almost reserved, as if cautiously reacquainting herself with him after a year apart. Now that restraint was gone. The confidence had returned, natural and effortless.

And it was devastating.

Marcus forced his gaze upward, searching for something safe to focus on. Her hair had been gathered loosely behind her head, not quite a ponytail, softer and more relaxed. A few strands escaped, brushing against her cheeks whenever the breeze passed. Without her hair framing her face, her features stood out clearly.

Flawless felt like an understatement.

Delicate yet lively eyes, pale smooth skin, gentle curves to her expression that carried both warmth and mischief. She looked carefully sculpted, as if someone had taken extra care when creating her.

"Beautiful," he murmured before he could stop himself.

He had always known she was attractive. Everyone did. But seeing her this close, noticing details he had never allowed himself to linger on before, felt entirely different.

She stood comfortably among the most beautiful women he knew. Snow’s cool elegance, Lily’s gentle charm, Anya’s quiet grace. Talia belonged beside them without hesitation. Yet her particular allure was unique. There was a subtle sense of temptation in her presence, something playful and dangerous at the same time.

A natural weapon.

And for the first time, Marcus realized he had never truly looked at her before. Now that he did, it was difficult to look away.

"Marcus."

Talia noticed immediately. She saw the change in his eyes, the way his gaze lingered, the quiet fascination he no longer bothered to hide.

A faint blush colored her cheeks.

No man had ever stood this close to her like this. No one had looked at her so openly, with such undisguised appreciation. Even Marcus, the one person who mattered to her most, had never crossed that invisible boundary before.

Instead of discomfort, warmth spread through her chest.

Relief followed it.

And beneath that warmth came a deeper emotion, an ache she had carried quietly for a year. The feeling was difficult to translate into words, a mixture of longing, grievance, and tenderness born from distance and waiting.

At last, he was really seeing her.

She had spent an entire year away from Crestwood, away from him. A year filled with regret and restlessness. Eventually she stopped pretending she could move on and made a decision she would not abandon.

She came back. And now that she stood here again, her goal was clear.

’Marcus,’ she thought silently, ’I came back for you.’

People often described her as seductive, as someone who could easily charm or tempt anyone she wished. She had always disliked those labels. She had never used her beauty intentionally, never leaned into that reputation, because no one had ever felt worth the effort.

Her charm had always been reserved for one person. Now, she chose to stop holding back.

If the world believed she was tempting, then she would become exactly that. She would step forward instead of waiting. She would draw closer instead of retreating.

She would tempt him. Not anyone else, only the man she loved.