Game Over Not Over for Me novel Chapter 65

**TITLE: She Bloomed Like Spring After Surviving a Winter No One Saw by Lillian Rosewood**

**Chapter 65: Clarice Byrde**

Reports from various guilds echoed through the air, each one recounting the same alarming incident. It was clear now: this was no mere anomaly; it was a widespread threat.

“Frost King is capable of taking down a Level 45 Blood-Eyed Mystic Turtle all by himself,” Fenrir stated, his voice grave as he assessed the situation before them.

“Our chances of defeating him are virtually nonexistent. And even if we manage to do the impossible, the price we pay could outweigh any potential reward.”

In the dimly lit meeting room of the Skyspire Club, Fenrir’s voice resonated with a mix of concern and realism. This time, it wasn’t Skyspire Shield who commanded the attention at the head of the table. Instead, a striking woman with an icy, commanding presence took her place.

“The bounty promised by the Demon King is substantial,” she declared, her tone unwavering. “If we wish to outpace the other guilds, this bounty is worth pursuing.”

This was Skyspire Wilhelmina, the elder sister of Shield, and the true mastermind behind the operations of the Skyspire Club. It was clear to all present that Shield was merely a figurehead; the real power resided with Wilhelmina.

“Ms. Wilhelmina, you must understand that this won’t be a simple task,” Fenrir cautioned, his brow furrowing as he recalled the details. “Dream Snow had the Golden Scepter, and they sent over a hundred of their top players against Frost King. They were utterly decimated.”

“Every single one of them lost a level,” he added, emphasizing the dire consequences of underestimating Frost King.

Wilhelmina’s gaze shifted to her brother, a glint of determination in her eyes.

“Shield,” she said, her voice steady and commanding, “you have a decent rapport with Frost King. Why not reach out to him? We could offer him a handsome sum just to stand still while we take him down.”

Shield’s expression hardened, a mix of disbelief and frustration crossing his features. “You can’t be serious. I hardly know him,” he replied, his voice laced with incredulity.

“He’s currently at Level 20. If he dies with his PK points intact, he’ll drop straight to Level 1,” Wilhelmina pointed out, her logic unyielding.

“With his skills, he could easily climb back to Level 20 in no time. Just think about it—one death for five million. He wouldn’t refuse that.”

Shield exhaled deeply, a wave of resignation washing over him. “I’m not going to do it,” he stated firmly.

“Don’t be so stubborn. Twilight of the Gods isn’t just another game. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take,” she pressed, her voice rising slightly with urgency.

“I said no, and that’s my final word on the matter. You’re free to pursue this, but don’t drag me into it,” Shield retorted, slamming his hand against the table in frustration before abruptly turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

Wilhelmina’s expression turned icy, her resolve unshaken.

“Fenrir,” she instructed, her voice cold and calculated, “send someone to negotiate with Frost King. If the offer is enticing enough, I’m certain he’ll agree.”

“No one can resist a lucrative proposal, not even him,” she added, her confidence unwavering.

“Understood,” Fenrir replied, though a sigh escaped him as he contemplated the absurdity of the situation.

In his mind, he couldn’t help but think that Wilhelmina was being unreasonable. Alden, Frost King, didn’t need money. Not with his current prowess. He could easily sell Skill Books or rare gear at any moment and earn more than enough to sustain himself.

But Wilhelmina was in a foul mood, and voicing his thoughts would only lead to more trouble.

Fenrir found himself aligning with Shield’s perspective. Frost King was a valuable ally, and antagonizing him was the last thing they needed.

Wilhelmina had a tendency to throw money at problems, convinced that with enough wealth, anything or anyone could be swayed. Yet, she seemed to overlook a crucial truth: some individuals only accept deals out of desire, not necessity. And Frost King was not motivated by money.

Meanwhile, Alden was engrossed in farming monsters within the territory of the Bloodback Mystic Turtles, relishing the steady rhythm of his grind.

Suddenly, he noticed someone approaching. His heart quickened, but it wasn’t Leona—the person he had secretly hoped would come. Instead, it was a frail-looking old woman, her hunched form and weathered face giving her an air of mystery.

Alden squinted, his instincts kicking in.

Clarice Byrde (??): ??!
HP: ???
Attack: ???
Skills: ???

(Note: She isn’t your average crone. If you receive a quest from her, the reward may astound you. But cross her, and you’ll wish you had never been born. She has a taste for fresh blood.)

Alden’s eyes narrowed as he assessed her. Aside from her name, nothing else about her was visible. The unanswered questions swirling in his mind told him one undeniable truth: he was likely outmatched.

“Hello there. Is there something you need assistance with?” Alden asked, offering a faint smile, his tone polite and cordial.

It was a simple enough question, the kind any adventurer might pose to an NPC.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify