It began subtly. Rumors first. Whispers at taverns. Bounty boards updated with suspiciously specific phrasing like "Looking for information on members of 'Linked Hearts'—well-paid inquiries only." Missions that should've gone to them were suddenly rerouted. Even when they qualified first, some "technicality" got in the way. Rival guilds that had barely noticed their existence during the Guild War Trials were now strangely hostile, glaring at them in public squares, or mocking their victories as "luck." It wasn't overt at first, but it felt like something invisible was coiling around their reputation, like a noose tightening little by little.
MC didn't notice the full scope of it immediately. He was too busy handling guild matters — balancing new member dynamics, sorting through quest requests, managing food expenses (which had mysteriously tripled thanks to Jax's "liquid diet"), and figuring out whether their new base's roof leak counted as a "curse" or just poor construction. But slowly, even he couldn't ignore it. The invitations dried up. Merchants suddenly seemed nervous when he tried to shop. His name started drawing the wrong kind of attention.
"You again?" one innkeeper muttered when MC asked about renting a stable for their guild's mounts. "Maybe try somewhere less cursed next time."
"Wait, what?" MC blinked. "I just asked for hay."
Kaela noticed it first in the guild's system ledger. "Somebody's been flagging our missions," she said, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "Look at this routing algorithm — it diverts requests with above-average pay toward other guilds, even if we're more qualified."
"That's… illegal, right?" Kira asked while sharpening her daggers on the armrest of a chair she had no intention of paying for.
"It's untraceable," Kaela muttered darkly. "Which means someone very clever is pulling strings."
Luna said little but began watching the skies more often — a quiet unease growing in her eyes as if she knew something no one else could say aloud.
Meanwhile, the Cult was busy tightening its grip from afar. A veiled woman with glowing sigils tattooed across her arms met with various rival guild leaders under the pretense of "shared interest." She whispered words like "threat to stability," "system anomaly," and "remove the variable before it multiplies." The Cult didn't need to act directly — not yet. Why draw their own blood when they could point others toward the scent?
One particular rival guild, known as The Iron Maw, suddenly tripled its recruitment efforts. Posters depicting "Linked Hearts" with mocking caricatures began showing up in back alleys and shady bulletin boards. Some showed MC's face with a crown and the words "King of Useless Tricks." Others mocked their female members, reducing their accomplishments to petty jealousy and "harem antics." Whoever designed the posters clearly had no artistic taste — and even worse handwriting.
MC first saw one of them stuck to a tree outside the guildhouse. He stared at it for a long time.
"Should I be flattered?" he asked eventually.
"No," Lina said, tearing it down and setting it on fire.
"That's actually one of the nicer ones," Iris noted, holding up another depicting MC being carried by the girls like a fainting nobleman. "At least this one gave you abs."
He laughed with them, trying to stay lighthearted. But at night, he couldn't sleep as easily. He'd lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering who he'd angered. Who wanted to break them. Who had enough power to twist the world against them without even stepping into the light.
It wasn't just about being mocked. It was about being watched.
And he could feel it now — in the weight of every stare in town, in the extra-long pauses before merchants gave him a price, in the sudden frost of tension every time he walked into a guild registry.
Someone had declared war.
But not with swords. Not yet.
This was a war of whispers. Of shadows.
And he was only just realizing how deep it went.
END OF CHAPTER 53