Ren jogged back into Greenwild Cross, making a straight line for Widow Shelly’s little cottage near the back of town.
He had carefully packed the twelve Thistle Roses into his satchel—each one nestled between folds of cloth so they didn’t get crushed. It felt almost stupid, being that careful in a game, but Ren wasn’t about to screw this up. Not when he knew how valuable this hidden quest line could become later.
It was a secret—one of those weird little quirks of Towerbound—that if you just dumped herbs and reagents straight into your inventory, they’d stay fine. But if you took the time to pack them carefully before storing them, they’d stay extra fine.
What did extra fine even mean?
There was a hidden quality value—never shown, never explained—that made the herb slightly better than a regular one yanked out of the ground and tossed into a bag. Nobody figured it out at first. It wasn’t until years later that crafters started noticing their potions came out just a little bit stronger, a little more stable, if they treated their herbs with care. Same ingredients, same recipes—different results.
Widow Shelly was exactly where she always was—sitting on her creaky rocking chair, sewing quietly with hands that looked far too frail for needlework.
As soon as Ren approached, the scripted NPC dialogue triggered.
“Oh, traveler,” she said, her voice quivering with age, “have you brought me the roses I asked for?”
Ren clicked through the standard dialogue options quickly and handed her the flowers.
System Message:
Quest Complete: Thistle Rose Gathering
Reward: 500 Experience Points, 2 Copper Coins, Favorability +5 with Widow Shelly
Shelly smiled warmly as she took the roses.
“Thank you, dear. My husband would be proud.”
It was exactly what he expected.
At this low level, NPCs like Widow Shelly were mostly built off simple dialogue trees—basic, mechanical, almost robotic in how they responded.
You completed the quest, they said thank you, and you moved on.
But one cool thing Towerbound had was the favorability system.
The more you helped an NPC—or interacted with them meaningfully—the more their dialogue options expanded.
You could unlock hidden conversations, secret quests, even access to unique shops or services that weren’t available otherwise.
At lower levels, the NPCs still clearly felt like a game.
You could tell you were talking to a script.
But at the higher levels—around Level 50 and beyond—the NPCs shifted into full AI.
Conversations with them became unpredictable, emotional, even unsettlingly real.
They remembered what you said.
They remembered your choices.
They could even call you out for past mistakes.
It was one of the reasons Towerbound’s immersion blew every other VR game out of the water.
Ren, however, didn’t need a full AI Widow Shelly right now.
Scripted was fine—so long as it opened the door to the next phase.
And it had.
Because he hadn’t just brought five roses.
He had brought twelve.
And a few seconds later, after the basic quest completion faded, another window flickered open:
System Message:
Hidden Condition Fulfilled: Extra Roses Offered (x12)
New Quest Unlocked: ‘The Widow’s Regret’
Ren grinned.
Exactly as planned.
Folo, who hadn’t logged out yet and had been trailing behind him carrying a handful of random herbs and junk loot, stumbled into the event radius just in time.
His system pinged too, and he got the standard Thistle Rose quest completion.
But he didn’t get the hidden quest.
In Towerbound, even if you were grouped up, hidden conditions were single trigger.
Only the player who physically handed in the quest could unlock hidden branches.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Everyone else?
Tough luck.
Folo didn’t mind.
He was just happy to snag the basic rewards and a handful of experience.
Poor Reed, though, wouldn’t be so lucky.
He was already back in the real world, stuck pulling another grinding laundromat shift.
By the time he logged back in, Widow Shelly would be reset, the roses would be picked, and the secret quest would be gone.
Ren didn’t feel too guilty about it.
This was the race now.
You grabbed every advantage you could—or you got left behind.
It didn’t matter which member of the slum guild got the “oh-by-the-way” reward requests. At the end of the day, they’d be pooling their coins, converting their credits, and stacking everything they had to get out of the guild—and out of the slums. Whether it was Reed or Folo who triggered the quest didn’t matter. As long as Ren kept pushing forward and snagged that hidden reward quest, that was all that mattered.
He flicked open his quest log and looked at the new mission now sitting there, golden and gleaming.
‘The Widow’s Regret.’
He was already ahead of ninety-nine percent of the server.
Exactly where he needed to be.
***
Now it was time to log off and switch.
Ren was going onto his third shift, and Kanuka was finally about to start his first.
Kanuka was practically hopping around outside, pacing impatiently like a kid waiting for recess.
Kanuka had chosen Cleric for his main class too—because, as he loudly declared, “swords are overrated.”
Ren actually thought it was a good thing.
Their guild—the little slum guild they were trying to build—would absolutely need a proper dedicated cleric.
And Ren sure as hell wasn’t going to volunteer for that.
Kanuka’s secondary profession was even better.
Blacksmith.
Which was perfect.
Every serious guild needed a blacksmith—someone who could make weapons, repair gear, and later, forge higher-grade equipment.
But blacksmiths were expensive.
Not just because of the raw materials, but because of the forge itself.
Alchemists needed a lab to make potions, sure.
But a forge?
A forge needed constant resources—charcoal, metals, maintenance—and once you started forging, it was pure time grind.
Blacksmiths who stuck with it could eventually make a fortune, but it wasn’t something you did casually.
Kanuka was practically vibrating with excitement, ready to dive in.
But just as he was about to put on the helmet, Ren held up his hand.
“Hold up a second,” Ren said.
Kanuka narrowed his eyes immediately. “What now? You’re picking on me again, aren’t you?”
Ren laughed. “I swear I’m not! We just need… a few more coins.”
Kanuka crossed his arms. “Yup, because you already took all of mine.”
“Exactly,” Ren said cheerfully. “And now it’s time to raid the next guy.”
The next person in line was supposed to be Cameron—but he wasn’t back from work yet.
The dorm always had a few people floating around, though, and it turned out Pierre was there, sitting on the battered couch, reading lore notes on his cheap tablet.
Pierre was scheduled to jump in soon-ish, maybe two or three rotations from now.
He had already picked his classes ahead of time.
He was going to be a Warrior for his main class, and an Herbalist for his secondary.
A smart pick.
Herbalists didn’t make potions—that was the alchemist’s job—but they could break down raw ingredients into usable materials, or synthesize stronger herbs for crafting.
Every serious alchemist needed a few herbalists working alongside them.
Because while a good alchemist could harvest herbs, grow them, and tend them well enough, a dedicated herbalist had higher percentages across the board. Better chances to find rare nodes, better yields per plant, and better odds of preserving quality. It wasn’t even close in the long run.
Ren silently made a note: Pierre was going to be important later.
“Come on, Pierre,” Ren said, clapping him on the back. “Time to log in real quick.”
Pierre grumbled but didn’t argue.
Everyone knew how the system worked: share helmets, share chances, move fast.
They logged Pierre in, let him take a quick, wide-eyed look around Greenwild Cross, and then gently pried five copper coins out of his starter wallet.
It wasn’t like he needed them yet anyway.
Then they logged Pierre back out, handed the helmet back to Kanuka, and finally—finally—Kanuka could jump in.
“Finally!” Kanuka said, throwing his arms in the air. “Six hours of pure fun and gaming!”
Ren gave him a hard look.
“You mean six hours of grinding and hard work.”
Kanuka groaned. “You’re seriously giving me the speech now too?” Kanuka had heard the “Game equals Work” speech from Reed in the dorm.
Ren smirked. “Damn right I am.” He was tired, but still enthusiastic. His revenge and a castle made of cheese kept him motivated.
Twelve hours straight in-game was no joke.
By the time Ren pushed to eighteen, he’d be running on fumes.
But everyone had agreed: Ren was leading this project.
He was the one with the knowledge.
He was the one steering the ship.
Even if they didn’t know just how much knowledge he actually had.
And right now, the next move was obvious.
“Alright,” Ren said. “You ready? We’re gonna go hit this Widow Shelly quest next.”
They had logged off in town, so they were perfectly safe.
Starter towns were heavily guarded by Level 60 NPCs, and for the first ten levels, player killing was disabled inside safe zones.
Once you hit Level 10, though?
All bets were off.
Attack someone, you got a red name.
Get a red name, and you couldn’t go back into town until it cooled off—or risk getting ganked by guards and other NPCs.
And dying wasn’t just a slap on the wrist.
You lost your EXP.
You dropped an item.
Period.
Right now though, their focus was simple: start the hidden quest chain.
Widow Shelly’s follow-up quest needed a Potion of Disease-Curing.
Problem was, the potion wasn’t simple.
It needed three ingredients—
Shadowvine, Frostpetal, and Bitterspore Mushrooms—
none of which grew anywhere near the starter town.
Ren already knew this.
Back in Prosperous Guild, when he had been the Chief Alchemist, he would just submit his ingredient lists and let armies of newbies fetch everything for him.
There were already detailed maps of where these herbs spawned.
But now?
It was just him and Kanuka.
Two clerics.
Level 2 and Level 1.
And not exactly intimidating.
Finding a party that wanted two newbie clerics was practically impossible.
One cleric was bad enough to find a pick up group for.
Two?
No chance.
It didn’t help that after thirteen hours of launch, most solo players—especially warriors and rangers—were already pushing Level 2 or 3. Mages and thieves were other classes that needed a group, so those players were also lagging.
Meanwhile, Ren had been splitting his experience, helping every new dorm mate log in, slowing his own climb.
The gap between them and the top players was already growing.
Fast.
Ren sighed, double-checking his starter staff’s sad durability, then turned to Kanuka.
“Alright. You ready?”
Kanuka adjusted his plain cleric robes and grinned.
“Born ready.”
Ren muttered under his breath, “We’ll see about that.”
Widow Shelly’s quest wasn’t just about collecting flowers this time.
Her only grandchild—Liam—had gotten sick after a hunting trip to the southern swamp.
It wasn’t deadly yet, but the disease would get worse fast if it wasn’t cured.
If no potion was delivered in time, Liam would die, a grave would appear, and the entire hidden quest chain would be permanently locked.
Ren winced a little thinking about it.
This wasn’t just about loot.
This time, there was a real clock ticking.
‘No pressure,’ he thought grimly.
Kanuka was practically bouncing along next to him.
“Don’t worry!” Kanuka shouted proudly. “I won’t let a sick kid down!”
***
