《A Warrior's Kingdom》 The Birth of a New World Morning broke, and the birds outside were at it again, their chirping oddly sweet yet grating enough to drag me toward consciousness. Then came the alarm¡ªa blaring reminder that life doesn¡¯t care if you want five more minutes. With a groan, I slapped it silent and stared at the ceiling. Another day. Another grind. Dragging myself out of bed felt like clearing a boss fight on low health. I stumbled into the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and went through the motions of looking presentable¡ªor at least human. By the time I finished, I had a few minutes to spare. Naturally, I ended up in my gaming chair, the console already humming to life. The screen flickered to my MMO world, and for a moment, everything else faded. There, I wasn¡¯t just Hector Flynn, a high school nobody. I was HellBringer, leader of a top-tier faction. Unstoppable. Respected. The thrill of victory after victory grounded me in a way reality never could. Thirty minutes vanished in what felt like seconds. The real world pulled me back with a pang of dread. I grabbed my backpack, headed downstairs, and braced myself for the void. The house was silent¡ªtoo silent. Like a scene in a horror movie just before the killer shows up. But there was no killer. Just an empty house, the kind of quiet that felt deliberate. I shook it off, made a quick breakfast, and stepped outside. The sun hit like a punch to the face, forcing me to squint until the world came into focus. The neighborhood buzzed with life¡ªkids playing, parents doting, teens laughing too loudly, some hand-in-hand like a rom-com clich¨¦. I should¡¯ve felt something¡ªmaybe envy, maybe joy¡ªbut all I felt was apart. Like I was watching a life I wasn¡¯t part of through glass. At school, the chaos of the crowd melted into background noise as I found my usual spot. Rodrick and Ivan were already there, huddled over a table. Rodrick was ¡°borrowing¡± Ivan¡¯s homework again, muttering under his breath as his pen scratched furiously. His mess of brown hair, tinged with an odd red, always looked like it needed a wash. Ivan, in contrast, sat with the precision of someone who planned five moves ahead. His blonde hair was neatly combed, his glasses catching the morning light as he quietly endured Rodrick¡¯s shameless antics. ¡°Morning,¡± Ivan said, not looking up. ¡°You¡¯re tired.¡± I slumped into the seat across from him. ¡°You¡¯re observant.¡± ¡°It¡¯s in my nature,¡± he replied, tapping his pen against his notebook. ¡°Trouble sleeping?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± I muttered. ¡°What about you? Anything new?¡± Ivan straightened, his eyes flickering with something close to excitement. ¡°Yes, actually. Something peculiar.¡± ¡°Have you heard about A Warrior¡¯s Kingdom?¡± he asked. Before I could answer, Rodrick broke in. ¡°Oh, dude! That¡¯s the game that sucks you into the TV, right?¡± Ivan nodded. ¡°Precisely. I received a copy yesterday.¡± Rodrick abandoned his homework entirely, leaning in like Ivan had revealed buried treasure. ¡°No way! I got it this morning. That thing¡¯s wild, man. You¡¯re not just playing¡ªyou¡¯re in it.¡± I blinked. ¡°Wait, what? A game that sucks you in?¡± Ivan adjusted his glasses, giving me a how-are-you-this-uninformed look. ¡°It¡¯s been all over the news. The game appears in mailboxes without explanation, compatible with any device. When you start it, you¡¯re transported to another world.¡± ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± I said, though my voice wavered. Ivan didn¡¯t exaggerate. He didn¡¯t joke, either. Rodrick grinned. ¡°Dude, it¡¯s real. I played ten minutes this morning. Felt like I was actually swinging a sword.¡± Ivan¡¯s tone sharpened. ¡°It¡¯s beyond VR¡ªa technological anomaly.¡± ¡°Or a trap,¡± I muttered. It sounded more like the setup for a bad horror movie than a dream come true. Rodrick stretched dramatically. ¡°Man, this sucks. Why do teachers even bother giving us homework?¡± ¡°It¡¯s school,¡± I replied. ¡°Yeah, but this is high school, man. Our golden age! I¡¯m telling you, I¡¯m getting a girlfriend by senior year.¡± ¡°Good luck with that,¡± I said. Rodrick shot me a devilish grin. ¡°What about you, Hector? Don¡¯t you want someone?¡± The question hit harder than it should¡¯ve. I shrugged. ¡°Not really. I¡¯m just me. Awkward, average, invisible. Girls don¡¯t notice me unless they need a pencil or gaming help.¡± Rodrick¡¯s grin faltered. ¡°You¡¯re too hard on yourself, dude.¡± The morning bell rang before I could respond. Rodrick dashed off with Ivan¡¯s folder, leaving me to replay his words. --- The day dragged on. Without Rodrick or Ivan in most classes, school felt like a slog. But my thoughts kept drifting to A Warrior¡¯s Kingdom. Could something like that exist? My phone buzzed¡ªa group chat notification. Ivan wanted to play tonight and asked if I¡¯d checked my mailbox. I hadn¡¯t. He urged me to look as soon as I got home. --- P.E. was my last class, and I dreaded it. The uniform highlighted my scrawny frame, making me an easy target for ridicule. Rodrick, thankfully, was always there to have my back. He stuck close, his presence enough to keep the bullies at bay. ¡°All right, class! Today¡¯s the mile,¡± the coach announced, blowing his whistle. The athletes bolted, while I barely made it thirty seconds before my legs burned and my breath came in gasps. Rodrick jogged effortlessly beside me, like he had all the time in the world.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You don¡¯t have to stick with me,¡± I panted, embarrassed by how out of shape I was. ¡°Of course I do,¡± he replied with a grin, not even winded. Then his grin widened as his gaze fixed on a group of girls running ahead of us. ¡°Man, physics is amazing.¡± I followed his eyes and immediately regretted it, my face flushing. ¡°Rodrick, you perv!¡± I hissed, forcing myself to look away. ¡°What? It¡¯s a great view,¡± he teased, unbothered by my reaction. Despite his antics, Rodrick hadn¡¯t changed much since middle school. He still found ways to get into trouble, earning the nickname ¡°P.E. pervert¡± back then. But beneath his flaws, he had a good heart. And as much as I hated to admit it, I admired him. Rodrick was everything I wasn¡¯t¡ªconfident, brave, and unashamed of who he was. He didn¡¯t care what people thought, and that made him strong. One day, I wanted to be like him¡ªto stand strong and protect the people who mattered to me. --- Walking home, spring wrapped the neighborhood in warmth and vibrant colors. The breeze tugged at my hair, birds chirped, and memories of camping with Dad crept in. I missed those trips¡ªthe connection we used to have. At the mailbox, my heart raced. I flung it open. Empty. The excitement I¡¯d carried all day deflated. Dragging my feet, I went inside to the usual silence. My parents were workaholics; family dinners were a distant memory. I made a quick meal, muttering a quiet ¡°thanks for the food¡± before retreating to my room. The console hummed to life. ¡°The king has returned,¡± I muttered, diving into my game to escape the emptiness. Hours blurred into victories and digital glory. My phone buzzed again. Ivan asked, ¡°Did you get the game?¡± ¡°Nope. You guys go ahead,¡± I replied, forcing nonchalance. I stared at the empty corner of my desk where the game could¡¯ve been. In another world, maybe I¡¯d already be there¡ªa hero, somebody. But here? Just Hector. And that would have to be enough. For now. . . . Looming across the ashen sky, a dark swarm began to coalesce, writhing like a living shadow. Shrieks erupted from the clouds¡ªsharp, grating, and inhuman¡ªas the sun dipped toward the horizon, its dying light casting jagged silhouettes over the desolate city below. Above the ruins, the scavengers circled with a manic rhythm. Crimson eyes burned with ravenous lust, piercing the blood-soaked streets below. Their harsh cries shredded the silence, each scream raw with desperation. The wind grew violent, spiraling into chaos as the creatures turned on each other, claws tearing and wings flailing in a savage brawl for dominance. Hunger ruled them, each shriek a declaration of frenzied madness. Below, the city lay in silent ruin. Once-vibrant streets were now graveyards, fragments of a proud civilization strewn among the wreckage. Elegant, rustic buildings¡ªemblems of life and culture¡ªwere now broken husks. Inns and taverns that had once welcomed adventurers with roaring hearths and open arms stood as lifeless monuments to the past. The streets were a crimson sea, waves of blood lapping against the remnants of what once was. Bodies littered the ground, strewn like discarded dolls. Warriors lay in the embrace of death, their weapons still clenched in lifeless hands. They had fought bravely, spilling their blood in a desperate bid to defend their home. But it was not enough. This was no battle. It had never been. It was a massacre. Among the floating bodies and shattered armor, something darker moved. Hulking figures prowled the blood-soaked streets, their grotesque forms illuminated in brief flashes of fading sunlight. They feasted with an insatiable hunger, their massive jaws crunching through bone and sinew. Rows of jagged teeth, too numerous to count, worked tirelessly, their pitch-black flesh glistening with gore. They towered over their prey, elongated claws rending through flesh as if it were parchment. Bones cracked, muscles tore, and blood seeped between their gums. They swallowed their victims whole, the corpses sliding down their throats into an abyss of hunger. There were hundreds of them, and no two were alike. Each creature bore its own monstrous deformities, yet they shared the same sunken, soulless eyes¡ªvoids devoid of light or humanity. Their bipedal forms resembled twisted parodies of human figures, their distorted proportions seeming like nightmares given flesh. Among the chaos, one figure stood apart. Shrouded in shadow, he was neither as large nor as monstrous as the rest, yet his mere presence sent an unnatural stillness rippling through the horde. Even the scavengers above hesitated, their frenzied cries momentarily silenced. His form was forged of obsidian hues, layered in jagged, plated armor. Sharp spikes jutted from his elbows, knees, and the crown of his head. As he moved, his footless, blade-like limbs pierced the water, trampling the dead with cold indifference. With a single motion, he wiped blood from his bladed hands, their edges glinting menacingly in the fading light. The sun¡¯s last rays illuminated him fully. His most striking feature was a radiant, diamond-shaped crystal embedded in his face. It glowed with an ominous purple light, obscuring any trace of emotion. Amid the sea of corpses, one figure stirred. Against all odds, a lone survivor crawled among the dead. Their breaths were shallow, their movements feeble. Blood and mud clung to their broken form as they dragged themselves forward, desperation etched into their every motion. The man in black took notice, his gaze unyielding as he closed the distance. With a single, effortless motion, he kicked the survivor onto their back. Face to face with death, the survivor trembled, tears mixing with the blood that poured from their mouth. The weight of despair crushed them, yet amidst the terror, a spark of defiance remained. With their final breath, they forced trembling lips to form words. ¡°W-why... why would you do this?¡± The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the man in black tilted his head, his crystal face catching the dim light. In an instant, his blade descended, cleaving through the survivor¡¯s skull with surgical precision. The body fell limp. No hesitation. No remorse. The strike was perfect, its execution betraying a practiced efficiency that spoke of countless such acts before it. Wiping his blade clean once more, the man in black uttered two words, his voice resonating from within the crystal. ¡°Game over.¡± The words were swallowed by the silence, a final declaration of victory. Raising an arm to the sky, he surveyed the scene, the groans of the dying fading into the void as shadows consumed the city¡¯s final breath. Then, a ripple broke the stillness. A single footstep splashed through the bloodied water behind him. He turned sharply, his blade-hand raised, scanning the dim horizon. From the shadows emerged a figure clad in pristine white armor, their footsteps measured and deliberate. ¡°There you are,¡± the figure said casually, an air of smugness in their tone. ¡°You¡¯re not exactly easy to find.¡± The man in black¡¯s blade glinted ominously as his stance shifted. ¡°Choose your next words carefully,¡± he growled. ¡°What do you want?¡± The armored figure stopped, an eerie grin spreading across their face. ¡°Let¡¯s make a deal...¡± Welcome to the Game The next morning greeted me with disappointment¡ªnot just because I didn¡¯t get that game, but because it was raining. Normally, I¡¯d welcome the sound of rain, the kind of cozy ambiance that pairs perfectly with a bowl of popcorn and a good movie marathon. But walking to school on a rainy day? That¡¯s a whole different story. It¡¯s like nature slapping you in the face while whispering, ¡°Your life sucks.¡± And if rain wasn¡¯t enough to kill my mood, the wind decided to join the party. Holding onto my umbrella was like reenacting The Battle of the Century, and spoiler alert: I lost. I stumbled through the school gates, drenched from head to toe, my umbrella flailing in defeat. If anyone had the audacity to ask, "Why so gloomy?" I¡¯d point to the sky and shout, ¡°Exhibit A!¡± Our usual hangout spot was out of the question¡ªit was outside and looked like a swimming pool now. So, I slogged through the hallways, dripping and miserable, when I spotted Rodrick. His distinct, messy brown hair with that streak of reddish tint stuck out even in the crowd. The guy was holding his hands up like binoculars, scanning the distance with the intensity of a hawk. I crept up behind him, my lips curling into a mischievous grin. Whatever this fool was up to, he had no idea I was about to ruin his day. But curiosity got the better of me. What was he staring at? I followed his line of sight and¡ªoh. Oh. Girls. Girls everywhere. They were outside in the rain, soaked to the bone. Our school¡¯s white uniforms had officially betrayed humanity, turning translucent and clinging to skin in ways that made my brain short-circuit. Rodrick¡¯s breath hitched audibly as a gust of wind sent skirts flying. My brain finally screamed, ¡°What the hell are you doing, Hector!?¡± snapping me back to reality. I jabbed Rodrick in the ribs and shouted, ¡°BOO!¡± ¡°OH JESUS CHRIST!¡± Rodrick practically jumped out of his skin, flailing like a fish out of water. His panicked expression shifted to a sheepish grin as he tried¡ªand failed¡ªto play it cool. ¡°A pervert to the bitter end,¡± I teased, crossing my arms. ¡°Chu know it!¡± he shot back, flashing the goofiest grin known to mankind. Rolling my eyes, I steered the conversation to something less... hormonal. ¡°So, how was it, Rodrick?¡± ¡°How was what?¡± he blinked, clearly still stuck in his fantasy land. ¡°The game, A Warrior¡¯s Kingdom. Remember?¡± ¡°Ohhh, that!¡± His face lit up like Christmas morning. ¡°Dude, it¡¯s amazing! I don¡¯t even know where to start!¡± Before he could dive into details, the school bell rang, slicing through our excitement like a buzzkill blade. We groaned in unison. Just my luck¡ªanother interruption. First, the game eludes me, and now this. Still, I wasn¡¯t about to let Rodrick off the hook. ¡°Walk with me to your class and tell me everything,¡± I demanded. As we trudged along, Rodrick¡¯s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. ¡°Okay, so picture this: you boot up the game, and BOOM! A flash of light blinds you, like you¡¯re being sucked into another dimension. Then, you get to choose your name and pick from three ethnicities for your character. It¡¯s like creating your own destiny!¡± ¡°What name did you pick?¡± I asked, my stomach doing backflips. This was torture¡ªthe good kind. Rodrick smirked like he¡¯d just discovered the secret to life. ¡°Oh-ho-ho! That¡¯s classified info, my dude.¡± He winked dramatically. ¡°Really? My man, you¡¯re gonna pull that on me?¡± I gave him my best death glare. ¡°Anyway,¡± he continued, completely ignoring my glare, ¡°the world looks so real. The grass sways with the wind¡ªlike this!¡± He waved his arms around, making whoosh sounds like a human wind machine.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°I found Ivan pretty quickly, and guess what? It¡¯s a fighting game!¡± he gushed, his excitement contagious. Sadly, we reached his classroom, and our conversation had to pause. ¡°See ya later in P.E.,¡± he said, fist-bumping me before disappearing inside. My thoughts swirled with jealousy and excitement. A fighting game? That¡¯s it. I need this in my life.
The wait for the game became unbearable. Every day after school, I checked the mailbox like a man possessed. And every day, I was met with disappointment. Flyers, bills, coupons¡ªeverything except that game. Even Rodrick and Ivan¡¯s tales of their adventures couldn¡¯t cheer me up. Instead, they only reminded me of what I was missing. My friends noticed my mood shift. They tried their best¡ªoffering to hang out or letting me play their copy. But it just didn¡¯t feel right. That game was theirs, not mine. No one else could play it on their console. Days passed like this, and I resigned myself to my fate. I was the only kid in the neighborhood who didn¡¯t have A Warrior¡¯s Kingdom. Until one fateful day. Walking home, I shot my mailbox the nastiest glare. It had taunted me for weeks, standing there smugly empty, mocking my patience. "Screw you, mailbox," I muttered, my tone dripping with betrayal. Just as I started to pass by, something caught my eye¡ªa glint of white against the darkness inside. My steps faltered. Could it be? My heart stumbled, then picked up speed like an overclocked game console. ¡°No way...¡± I bolted to the mailbox, nearly tripping over my own feet. My trembling hands wrestled the metal door open, and there it was: a package. My breath caught in my throat. Slowly, like I was unearthing some sacred treasure, I pulled it out and held it up to the fading sunlight. ¡°Beauty supplies for women, 50% off,¡± the label read cheerily. For a moment, the world froze. ¡°ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!¡± My voice tore through the quiet neighborhood, echoing off walls, rooftops, and the heavens themselves. I hurled the box onto the lawn with all the fury of a gamer scorned. And that¡¯s when I felt it¡ªa small, solid nudge against my foot. I glanced down. There it was. A second package, unassuming yet radiating cosmic importance. My heart skipped a beat. My jaw dropped. ¡°A Warrior¡¯s Kingdom.¡± Time seemed to slow as I bent down, reverently picking up the package like it was the Holy Grail. The weight of the game in my hands¡ªthis was no ordinary box. This was destiny. Eyes wide, I tilted my head back, holding it up like Simba in The Lion King. My voice cracked as I shouted to the skies, ¡°YES! THANK YOU, UNIVERSE!¡± Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the blood from my earlier fall. Not that I cared¡ªthis was a moment for the history books. It had been weeks. Weeks of false anticipation, endless prayers, and watching my friends dive into the game while I sat there in my room, left behind in my lonesome. But now, it was here. It was finally here. I sprinted home, ignoring the throbbing pain in my nose and the growing stitch in my side. My front door nearly flew off its hinges as I barreled inside. Hands trembling, I tore the packaging apart and slid the disc into my console. The screen flickered to life, the title card glowing like some ancient artifact: "A Warrior¡¯s Kingdom." The opening jingle played, and my heart swelled with a blend of nostalgia and exhilaration. But then something odd happened. The room began to shake. At first, it was subtle¡ªa soft tremor, like the rumble of distant thunder. But it quickly escalated. Books toppled off shelves, my controller slid off the desk, and a framed poster of Final Space Odyssey crashed to the floor. ¡°What the¡ª?¡± Colors exploded from the screen, swirling into an impossible storm of light and energy. Blues, greens, and fiery oranges twisted together like a living aurora, filling the room. The game¡¯s title glowed brighter, pulsing in rhythm with the shaking. I tried to back away, but the air seemed to thicken around me, pulling me forward. My legs refused to obey. The screen grew impossibly large, consuming the entire wall. Suddenly, a deep voice boomed from nowhere, resonating in my chest: ¡°WELCOME TO THE GAME.¡± The vortex swallowed me whole. The Adventure Begins For a moment, there was only weightlessness. Then came the sensation of rushing wind, followed by the impossible colors. My vision blurred, and my body felt like it was being stretched and compressed at the same time. Panic surged, but beneath it was an undeniable thrill. ¡°Is this¡­ really happening?¡± I managed to whisper, though I wasn¡¯t sure if the words escaped my mouth. Your Avatar Name: It took me a moment to realize I hadn¡¯t even thought about my character¡¯s name. Hell, I hadn¡¯t even told my friends I got the game. LolGetRektNoob69. That¡¯s what I typed first, instinctively. Then I stared at it. Yeah, no. Delete. Lance. That one felt right. I¡¯d once read about a heroic dragon master named Lance¡ªa total badass. The name stuck with me ever since. I hit confirm. Suddenly, three letters appeared before me: H A R The choices glowed ominously, their meaning unknown. My excitement drowned out any hesitation as I tapped H without much thought. The vortex around me trembled violently, the colors shifting into a storm of chaos. Cracks of splitting thunder echoed around me. I glanced at my hands, and my breath hitched. Tiny square pixels swirled around my fingertips, forming intricate patterns as they began to crawl up my arms. The pixels wrapped around me like living threads, weaving a shimmering suit that pulsed with faint green light. My chest and legs were quickly consumed by the strange material, its texture both metallic and smooth. The vortex shifted into a blinding white void, and for a moment, I floated weightlessly, utterly consumed by light. Then, suddenly, solid ground met my feet.
The first thing that hit me was the air. It was unlike anything I¡¯d ever experienced¡ªcrisp and clean, with a faint hint of wildflowers and damp earth. My bare feet sank into soft, lush grass, cool and springy underfoot. I opened my eyes. A sprawling valley stretched endlessly before me, a sea of vibrant green broken only by rolling hills and patches of bright, colorful wildflowers. Mountains loomed on the horizon, their jagged peaks dusted with glittering snow. Above, the sky was a brilliant blue, unmarred by clouds, with a golden sun that radiated warmth without scorching. A breeze stirred, carrying with it the faint hum of insects and the soft calls of distant birds. The world was alive. ¡°This¡­¡± I breathed, taking in the staggering beauty around me. ¡°This can¡¯t be a fighting game.¡± The vivid details overwhelmed me. I could see every blade of grass, hear the rustling of tiny creatures scurrying through the undergrowth. The faint scent of pine wafted through the air, mingling with something sweet and floral. It was immersive in a way that no screen, no VR headset, had ever managed. On the horizon, I spotted a small town nestled at the foot of a hill. Its cobbled streets and stone buildings looked straight out of a medieval fantasy. Between me and the town lay a dense forest, its towering trees casting long, sprawling shadows. The forest seemed to breathe, its ancient trunks gnarled and twisted. Leaves rustled softly, though there was no wind. The shadows beneath its canopy danced unnaturally, making my skin crawl. My eyes darted to the top-left corner of my vision. Two bars hovered there, faint but unmistakable:Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Lance¡¯s Hitpoints: 50/50 Energy: 10/10 ¡°Huh,¡± I muttered. ¡°Health and energy bars.¡± Curiosity sparked, I decided to test the energy. I sprinted a few steps, expecting the blue bar to drop. Nothing. I tried jumping, crouching, even flailing my arms in a mock dance. Still nothing. ¡°Magic, maybe?¡± I wondered aloud. I attempted a dramatic spellcasting gesture, muttering every incantation I could recall from fantasy movies and games. Nothing happened. Feeling like an idiot, I gave up, but my eyes lingered on the bars. Level: 1. ¡°So I can level up,¡± I murmured. ¡°But how do I get XP?¡± My gaze returned to the forest ahead. The town was on the other side, which meant I had no choice but to go through.
The forest swallowed me whole. The air grew damp and heavy, clinging to my skin. A thick fog drifted across the forest floor, coiling around my ankles. Every step felt deliberate, the silence around me oppressive. Strange plants lined the path, their shapes twisted and alien. Some pulsed faintly, like they were alive, while others oozed a dark, sticky substance. I kept my distance, but my unease only grew. Pairs of glowing circles flickered in the shadows. Eyes, maybe? My pulse quickened as I realized I wasn¡¯t alone. A distant sound of rushing water caught my attention, piercing through my rising panic. My throat suddenly felt dry, and the thought of fresh water overpowered my fear. I stumbled toward the sound, breaking through dense underbrush to find a narrow river cutting through the forest. Its surface shimmered like liquid crystal, reflecting the ethereal light filtering through the canopy. Dropping to my knees, I plunged my face into the water. The coldness shocked me, but the taste¡ªpure and refreshing¡ªwas unlike anything I¡¯d ever had. Then I saw my reflection. I froze. Staring back at me wasn¡¯t my face. It was green, metallic, with large yellow, insect-like eyes that glowed faintly. My features were robotic, sleek and futuristic. There was no nose, no mouth¡ªjust smooth metal. ¡°What¡­ the hell?¡± I whispered. Tentatively, I raised a hand to my face, feeling its smooth surface. I glanced down at my body. The shimmering suit from earlier had evolved into full armor, with glowing green accents and a flowing, tattered cape. I was humanoid, but clearly not human. Somehow, though, I could drink water, scream, and even feel the coolness of the river against my non-existent mouth. The surreal nature of it all should¡¯ve terrified me, but there was something undeniably cool about my new form. I felt like a makeshift superhero. Rustling came from behind me. I spun around, my heart pounding. My eyes locked onto a bush trembling violently. Instinctively, I crouched, grabbing a fallen branch. ¡°W-Who¡¯s there?!¡± I shouted, my voice cracking despite my attempt at bravery. The rustling stopped. A suffocating silence followed, broken only by the faint dripping of water. Then, from the bush, something rolled out. An egg. It was massive, about a foot long, its smooth surface etched with glowing, golden runes. A crack ran along one side, and through it, a tiny eye peered out. The creature inside blinked at me. ¡°What¡­ are you?¡± I whispered, lowering my branch. Before I could examine it further, a deafening roar erupted from deep within the forest. The sound was guttural, primal, and terrifyingly close. The ground trembled beneath me as a massive shadow loomed in the distance. ¡°Nope!¡± I yelled, leaving the egg behind to whatever beast lurked inside the woods. I bolted. Branches tore at my armor as I sprinted through the underbrush. My lungs burned, and my legs ached, but I didn¡¯t dare look back. A sudden drop caught me off guard. I tumbled down a steep hill. Rocks and roots tore into me, and I crashed hard at the bottom, landing in a thorn bush. Pain erupted as razor-sharp thorns pierced my armor and skin. My health bar plummeted to 9/50. Groaning, I stumbled to my feet, bloodied and shaking. But ahead, past the tree line, I saw it: The town. Small, medieval, with thatched roofs and cobbled streets, it looked like a haven. A stone fountain stood at its center, water glinting in the sunlight. Relief flooded through me as I staggered forward. ¡°Please¡­ let there be a hospital,¡± I muttered. Behind me, the forest stirred, the roar echoing once more. I muster the strength to book it to town, hoping I could find escape from the forest as quickly as possible. Struggling as a Beginner As I step into Sully Shark Town, the sheer scale of it takes my breath away. The streets are alive with a sea of players, each one a vibrant blend of creativity and individuality. There are towering knights in gleaming armor, shadowy assassins cloaked in smoke, and even some avatars that look like outright jokes¡ªa giant banana wielding dual swords stands out particularly. ¡°Whoa...¡± I murmur, trying to soak it all in. The buildings are no less impressive. The architecture is a mix of old-world charm and futuristic flair. Medieval-style inns with holographic signs sit next to sleek, glass-walled shops displaying gear that practically screams unaffordable. Above it all, airships hover lazily in the sky, their engines humming softly as players disembark via glowing platforms. I weave through the crowd, my avatar''s mismatched armor drawing a few amused glances. My health bar hovers dangerously low, flickering like a dying candle. Even though I¡¯ve barely started the game, I feel like I¡¯m already carrying a scarlet letter: Noob Alert. ¡°Oh my God, you¡¯re gravely injured!¡± The voice comes out of nowhere, high-pitched and full of alarm. I whip around to find two girls staring at me, their expressions a mix of concern and pity. ¡°Do you need help?¡± the taller one asks, her green eyes scanning my sorry state. Before I can answer, the other girl jumps in, her tone even more frantic. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding out! You need to get to the medical center immediately!¡± I glance down at my avatar. Perhaps she was exaggerating, but yeah, I look like I¡¯ve been dragged through a battlefield. My armor is cracked, my health bar is a sliver away from zero, and my boots are coated in pixelated mud. ¡°I... uh...¡± My tongue ties itself in knots. Talking to girls in real life is bad enough, but here? In front of all these players? Forget it. Thankfully, they take my awkward silence as agreement. ¡°It¡¯s right over there,¡± the taller girl says, pointing toward a building with a glowing red cross above the entrance. The structure is sleek and futuristic, a beacon of hope in this chaotic town. ¡°Th-thanks!¡± I stammer, practically sprinting away before I embarrass myself further.
The medical center is surprisingly serene compared to the bustling streets outside. Inside, a robotic nurse floats toward me, its metallic frame polished to a mirror finish. ¡°Welcome, adventurer,¡± it says in a soothing, automated voice. ¡°Your injuries are severe. Please drink this.¡± A glowing potion materializes in its outstretched hand. I take it cautiously, half expecting it to taste like battery acid. Instead, it¡¯s sweet and refreshing, like a fizzy soda. ¡°Recovery in progress. Please rest,¡± the nurse instructs as I¡¯m led to a reclining chair. The moment I sit down, a wave of drowsiness washes over me, and the world fades into black.
When I wake up, I feel like a new person¡ªor at least, my avatar does. My health bar is full, my armor restored to its shiny, pre-battle state. I glance at myself in a nearby mirror and grin. Looking good, Lance. I step back outside, ready to explore the town properly this time. The streets are just as lively as before, but now I feel like I can actually enjoy the sights without worrying about keeling over. That¡¯s when it happens. ¡°Hey, you there!¡± I freeze as a booming voice cuts through the crowd. Slowly, I turn to see the source. A mountain of a man strides toward me, his robotic arms gleaming under the sunlight. His avatar is decked out in boxer¡¯s gear, complete with red gloves and a cocky grin. ¡°I challenge you to a duel!¡± he declares, his voice carrying the weight of a command. Me? A duel? My stomach sinks. Of all the people in this massive town, he picks me¡ªa level 1 nobody? ¡°Don¡¯t look so nervous,¡± he says, smirking. ¡°I¡¯m only level 3. Everyone else around here is level 7 or higher, so consider this a free lesson.¡± A glowing text box pops up in front of me:
Lv. 3 CakeLover Mode: 1v1 Combat Field Accept Challenge? Yes NoStolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
I hesitate, my finger hovering over the ¡°No¡± option. But something about the guy¡¯s confidence irritates me. Plus, this is a game¡ªwhat¡¯s the worst that could happen? ¡°Fine,¡± I mutter, selecting ¡°Yes.¡± The air around us changes instantly. The bustling town vanishes, replaced by a barren, rocky battlefield under a blood-red sky. A massive scoreboard appears above us, displaying our names and health bars. ¡°Let¡¯s make this quick,¡± CakeLover says, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Show me what you¡¯ve got.¡± I gulp.
He charges first, closing the distance between us in seconds. Before I can even think about dodging, his fist slams into my jaw. The impact sends me sprawling to the ground, my health bar plummeting. ¡°Lesson one,¡± he says, looming over me. ¡°Never hesitate.¡± I scramble to my feet, adrenaline coursing through me. This time, I swing wildly, hoping for a lucky hit. He sidesteps effortlessly, grabbing my arm and twisting it behind my back. ¡°Lesson two,¡± he continues, his tone almost bored. ¡°Control your movements. Don¡¯t just flail like a scared rabbit.¡± ¡°Gee, thanks for the advice,¡± I snap, yanking my arm free. He grins. ¡°Now you¡¯re getting into it.¡±
What follows is the most humiliating fight of my life. CakeLover dodges every attack I throw at him, his movements fluid and precise. Meanwhile, I¡¯m a clumsy mess, tripping over my own feet more times than I care to admit. ¡°C¡¯mon, newbie,¡± he taunts. ¡°At least try to hit me.¡± Finally, desperation takes over. I let out a primal scream and charge at him, fists flying. To my surprise, one of my punches actually connects, hitting him square in the chest. He stumbles back, his health bar dipping slightly. ¡°Not bad,¡± he admits, brushing himself off. ¡°But let¡¯s see how you handle this.¡± CakeLover steps forward, his hand outstretched, an intense glow beginning to emanate from his fist. The light swirls and intensifies, condensing into a chaotic mass of raw, pulsating energy. Sparks dance around him as if the very air is alive, trembling under the weight of his spell. "This is it," he declares, his voice steady, yet brimming with power. The glow spreads up his arm, illuminating the battlefield with an ethereal radiance. His expression is calm, but his eyes burn with unwavering focus. The energy around his hand spirals faster, forming a miniature storm of blazing light and sheer force. "Meteor Blow!" CakeLover roars, and with a single, decisive punch, the storm erupts. The air itself seems to split apart as the attack is unleashed. A deafening roar accompanies the cataclysmic blast that tears across the battlefield. The sheer force of the shockwave slams into me before the attack even lands, hurling me backward like a ragdoll. I barely register the moment my body collides with a distant stone fountain, the impact cracking its base. Water bursts upward, raining down as my health bar plummets. Zero. Pain sears through every part of my body as I lie crumpled amidst the wreckage. My chest feels heavy, the phantom weight of that attack lingering long after it¡¯s done. My avatar flickers, starting to dissolve into tiny fragments of light, but my mind holds onto the moment. That power... It wasn¡¯t just strength. It was precision. Technique. Sheer will. It was everything I dreamed of but was so far from achieving. I stare up at the sky, its fading light swallowed by the black void of defeat. Yet, within that emptiness, a spark ignites¡ªa determination far stronger than the pain. "I lost," I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible over the cascading water. But the words don¡¯t sting as they should. They fuel me. One day, I¡¯ll reach that level. No¡­ I¡¯ll surpass it. The fragments of my avatar scatter completely, leaving nothing behind but the long road ahead¡ªa road I¡¯m determined to walk, no matter how hard or painful. Because this isn¡¯t the end. It¡¯s just the beginning.
When I respawn, the familiar hustle and bustle of Sully Shark Town greets me. My health bar gleams full in the corner of my vision, but my pride? Still shattered. The town¡¯s cheery atmosphere feels almost mocking¡ªthe lively market stalls, the chatter of NPCs, the distant laughter of players. It¡¯s like the world doesn¡¯t care I just suffered a crushing defeat. ¡°Hey, Lance!¡± I turn toward the voice to see CakeLover weaving through the crowd. His usual cocky grin is subdued, replaced with a faint smile. ¡°Congrats on surviving your first duel,¡± he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Most newbies don¡¯t last half as long.¡± ¡°Thanks, I guess,¡± I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck. He lets out a soft laugh. ¡°Don¡¯t look so down. You¡¯ve got potential, kid. With some training, you might actually stand a chance against me someday.¡± We begin walking through the town. He talks as if we¡¯re old friends, pointing out little tips and tricks¡ªhow to manage inventory, allocate skill points, and master special moves. He even shows me a glowing hand spell of his own design, casually illuminating his palm like it¡¯s no big deal. ¡°This isn¡¯t just a game,¡± CakeLover says, his voice taking on a serious edge. ¡°It¡¯s a world. Every decision you make here matters. And outside the Combat Field¡­¡± He stops walking, turning to face me. ¡°Death is permanent. You lose everything¡ªgear, progress, friends. It¡¯s gone in an instant.¡± His words send a chill through me, but I can¡¯t help asking, ¡°Have you¡­ lost someone?¡± His expression darkens. For a moment, it¡¯s like the lively town around us fades away, replaced by something colder. ¡°My squad. We were ambushed by demons on a raid. They didn¡¯t stand a chance, and I¡­¡± He exhales shakily. ¡°I wasn¡¯t strong enough to protect them.¡± The raw pain in his voice stirs something in me. I don¡¯t know what to say. Instead, I place a hand on his shoulder, grounding him in the moment. ¡°You¡¯re not alone,¡± I say, softly but firmly. ¡°We¡¯ll both get stronger. I¡¯ll catch up to you, and when I do¡­¡± I force a grin. ¡°I¡¯m challenging you again.¡± He blinks, then chuckles. ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, Lance.¡± His voice trembles, but the faintest smile returns. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting.¡± As he steps away, disappearing into the crowd, the weight of his story lingers. I stand there for a while, gazing at the pastel skies that stretch over Sully Shark Town. Somewhere in the distance, the world hums on¡ªplayers laughing, merchants haggling, the rhythm of life undeterred. But beneath this calm surface, horrors lurk. I can feel it in the air, in CakeLover¡¯s haunted eyes. I clench my fists, my resolve hardening. ¡°I¡¯ll become the strongest player in this world,¡± I whisper to myself. ¡°No matter what it takes.¡± The Kind and Wealthy Family The town bustles with life as I wander its streets. Lively shops line the roads, each with signs that sway gently in the breeze. There¡¯s an armory, a weaponsmith, and a vibrant food district filled with aromas that make my stomach growl. This place feels like it was plucked straight out of a medieval fantasy. There are no cars, no phones, no sidewalks, and no modern conveniences. The cobblestone streets are open for everyone to roam freely. The houses, built from stone and timber, have thatched roofs and rustic charm. Children play outside, their laughter echoing as they kick a patched-up leather ball across the square. Adults stride through the streets, some in casual tunics, others clad in gleaming armor with swords strapped to their sides. Vendors shout out their wares, offering everything from fresh bread to magical trinkets. Instead of banks or supermarkets, I spot a sheriff¡¯s office, vendor stalls, and a Guild Quest building that towers above the smaller shops with its grand wooden doors. Even the animals here add to the atmosphere¡ªdogs, cats, and birds wander freely, but a few creatures seem decidedly magical. One catches my eye: a fluffy orb with stubby legs and a beaming smile. It¡¯s chasing a dog, its joyous expression matching the wagging tail of its canine companion. After some time exploring, my legs grow weary. I find a shady spot beneath a large tree and plop down to rest. Pulling up the game menu, I decide to poke around and figure things out. My profile screen appears first: Avatar Type: Plant Level: 1 Stats: ¡°Figures,¡± I mutter. ¡°That explains the whole green theme.¡± Scrolling further, I notice an empty slot labeled Ability: N/A. Great. No abilities yet. Maybe CakeLover¡¯s flashy move was an ability? Or was it a unique attack? Either way, I¡¯m jealous. Curiosity drives me to explore more tabs. The Special Moves section lists twenty slots¡ªall empty. Ultimate Moves has ten slots, also blank. My Inventory? Nothing but empty placeholders. When I click Transformation, nothing happens. ¡°Must be a bug,¡± I grumble. The Map feature redeems my mood. A vast layout of the world unfurls, and a message pops up: (Touch the map to move it or mark a destination.) Nice. I swipe westward, revealing more of the region. A blinking icon shows my current location. Handy for navigation, especially when this world feels so vast. Finally, I click Options. A helpful screen explains the game¡¯s mechanics. It confirms this is a battle-centric game and introduces a crucial element: typing. A massive chart fills the screen, listing eighteen types, from Fire and Plant to Shadow and Light. It even shows strengths and weaknesses. Water. Plant. Fire Ground. Steel. Poison Fairy. Giant. Beast Shadow. Demonic. Light Magic. Psychic. Healing Flying. Electric. Super Curse. Legendary. Mystery ??? I¡¯m a Plant type, which means I have strengths against Water and Ground but weaknesses to Fire, Poison, Flying, and Beast. The imbalance feels unfair¡ªsome types, like Electric, have only one weakness but multiple strengths. ¡°Us Plant types got it rough,¡± I mutter. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll just have to work with it.¡± (Strong) Type. (Weak) Fire (Water) Electric Ground Plant (Plant) Water Fire Ground Poison Beast Flying (Fire) Plant Water Steel Ground Magic (Ground) Fire Water Electric Plant Ground also completely nullifies electric attacks. (Steel) Giant Fire Fairy Electric Super Steel also has a resistance factor. It resists Plant Shadow Demonic Light Psychic Flying (Poison) Psychic Light Fairy Magic Plant (Fairy) Beast Giant 64 Curse Poison Demonic Flying A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. (Giant) Super Beast Fairy Magic (Beast) Giant Fairy Plant Steel (Shadow) Light Demonic Magic Super (Demonic) Shadow Light Super Healing Demonic also completely nullifies psychic. (Light) Demonic. Shadow Curse. (Magic) Giant. Shadow Poison. Fire (Psychic) Magic Poison Mystery Curse (Healing) Demonic. Curse (Flying) Plant. Electric Fairy. (Electric) Water. Ground Steel. Flying (Super) Shadow. Demonic Curse Giant (Curse) Healing. Super Psychic. Light Fairy (Legendary) No weakness or strength. (Mystery) Psychic Lost in the menu, I don¡¯t notice the sky dimming until the town¡¯s lamps flicker to life. The bustling streets from earlier now feel eerily quiet. Bars and inns are filled with patrons, but the open streets are deserted. Even the animals have disappeared. The wind whispers through the alleys, and the occasional creak of wood sets my nerves on edge. Finding nowhere else to go, I settle under a tree to spend the night. The rough bark digs into my back, and paranoia creeps in. What if monsters attack me while I¡¯m asleep? My eyes snap open every few minutes, scanning the dark. Eventually, exhaustion wins, and my body begins to relax. Just as I drift off, a voice startles me. ¡°Hey... hey, my dude, are you awake?¡± I groan and open my eyes to see a man with spiky black hair, wearing an iron chest plate over orange clothing and a black cloak. ¡°Nope,¡± I reply sarcastically. ¡°I¡¯m totally meditating. That¡¯s it.¡± He chuckles and lets go of my shoulder. ¡°Yeah, dumb question. But you never know in this game. You could¡¯ve been cursed or poisoned. Just wanted to check before rushing you to a hospital.¡± Behind him stand two men in identical cloaks and a girl wearing a pink-and-white dress. She has blonde twin-tails, black shoes, and stockings. When she waves at me, I quickly avert my gaze, thankful my avatar doesn¡¯t have pupils to betray my embarrassment. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± he asks. ¡°Lance. And you?¡± ¡°GreekLord21,¡± he says sheepishly. I suppress a smirk at his awkwardness. ¡°So, why¡¯d you wake me up?¡± ¡°Our mistress would like to offer you a place to stay for the night. She helps out beginners.¡± He gestures toward the girl in pink. She waves again, her bright smile radiating warmth. ¡°Her?¡± I ask skeptically. ¡°Yeah, her,¡± he confirms. My cheeks grow hot. Why is this overly cheerful girl inviting me to her house? ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± ¡°No catch,¡± GreekLord assures me. ¡°You¡¯ll get food and a bed. Sounds better than this tree, right?¡± Reluctantly, I accept his hand. ¡°Fine, you win.
We left the town behind, the wheels of the carriage crunching against the dirt path as it veered northward. My eyes were fixed on the map in my hands, but my focus kept drifting to the scenery outside. The driver¡¯s quiet concentration was the only sound besides the steady rhythm of hooves. On my side sat GreekLord21, while across from us, a woman with an aura of importance and another soldier shared the space. I glanced out the window, taking in the dense wall of trees on either side. The moon hung high, its pale light spilling over the treetops, stars scattered like glitter across the dark canvas of the sky. For a moment, I felt a strange peace¡ªuntil the realization struck me like a hammer. Wait. This is a game! GreekLord21 broke the silence, gesturing to the elegant woman across from him. ¡°I¡¯d like to introduce you to my mistress, Tiffany.¡± She covered her mouth with a giggle, her demeanor almost playful. A princess, maybe? Or something even more important? ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Lance,¡± she said, extending a hand, her voice warm and inviting. I hesitated before shaking her hand, stumbling over my words. ¡°I-it¡¯s, uh, it IS a¡ªplez-zur.¡± Smooth, Lance. Real smooth. She laughed, the sound like music to my ears. ¡°The pleasure is all mine,¡± she assured me, her smile disarming. The tension in my chest eased, but she was almost too nice. Could it be an act? Or was she genuinely like this? ¡°You already know me,¡± GreekLord21 chimed in, puffing his chest. ¡°I¡¯m a soldier for Mistress Tiffany. I swear on my life to protect her!¡± The declaration felt genuine, and I noted that the other two men wore matching cloaks and boots, their attire exuding a sense of unity and loyalty. Whoever Tiffany was, she had the presence to command soldiers like these. I took another look at her, carefree and almost whimsical in her demeanor. ¡°My name¡¯s Rick,¡± said the other soldier, his face stoic. ¡°I¡¯m also sworn to protect Lord Tiffany.¡± His tone matched his expression¡ªserious and disciplined. Curiosity tugged at me. Using the same system CakeLover had used to reveal my level, I focused on the two soldiers. GreekLord21 and Rick were both Level 8. Double CakeLover¡¯s level. The thought of fighting them sent a chill down my spine. If CakeLover had been a challenge, these two would be nightmares. Thankfully, I was on their good side. I looked at Tiffany again¡ªLevel 3. Stronger than me, but nowhere near the soldiers. Would she stand a chance against CakeLover? Time slipped away, and the forest gave way to a grand estate. The carriage pulled up to a mansion, its front yard a display of extravagance. Sculpted bushes in the shape of animals lined the path, golden fish statues formed the gate, and soldiers patrolled every corner¡ªfrom the hedges to the balconies on the upper floors. This was no ordinary home. It belonged to someone important. We disembarked, and the inside of the mansion was even more stunning. Golden walls adorned with paintings, polished suits of armor standing like sentinels, and a plush red carpet leading us deeper in. I could only marvel. Maybe, someday, I¡¯d earn enough to live like this. Another reason to become the game¡¯s number one. Tiffany seemed unfazed, skipping ahead like a child, while the soldiers trailed behind her with calm efficiency. We ended up in a lavish dining room, where waiters appeared almost immediately, carrying trays laden with food. The spread was overwhelming¡ªsteaming cuts of meat, seafood glistening with butter, and dishes I couldn¡¯t even name. I wasted no time digging in, savoring every bite. As I ate, two more people entered the room, sitting beside Tiffany. She beamed and gestured toward me. ¡°Hello, Mom and Dad! I¡¯d like to introduce you to Lance!¡± I nearly choked. These were Tiffany¡¯s parents? Her cheerful, childlike nature had thrown me off, but now it made sense. ¡°Welcome to our home, Lance,¡± they said in unison. Unable to speak through a mouthful of noodles, I gave an awkward wave. Her mother chuckled, holding up a hand. ¡°It¡¯s all right, dear. Eat your fill. Introductions can wait until morning. It¡¯s late, and you¡¯ll need rest.¡± I nodded, grateful for the reprieve, and kept eating. The food was too good to stop. ¡°Tiffany,¡± her father said, raising an eyebrow, ¡°another guest? How many more will it take to satisfy you, my dear?¡± ¡°Oh, Daddy, you know I can¡¯t resist,¡± she teased, giggling. After the meal, GreekLord21 led me to my room. It was luxurious¡ªfar better than sleeping on the ground. Though I noticed the door had no lock, my exhaustion outweighed my concern. I collapsed onto the bed, reflecting on the whirlwind of events that had brought me here. The creepy forest. Sully Shark Town. The fight with CakeLover. Exploring the game world. And now, this mansion. Sleep came easily, darkness enveloping me as I drifted off.
Some time passed, and the weight of the day pulled at my eyelids. My limbs sank into the plush mattress, exhaustion melting the tension from my body. A yawn escaped me, and my eyes grew watery, heavy. I let the soft embrace of the bed cradle me, the silky sheets a gentle cocoon against the chill of the night. As I drifted off, darkness enveloped me, an endless sea of calm and silence. In that quiet, light began to creep in. Faint at first, it shimmered at the edges of the void, yellow and orange hues softening the shadows. The glow was warm, comforting even¡ªa distant sunrise stretching into my dreams. But as it grew brighter, the warmth turned intrusive, the golden haze intensifying. I squinted in my sleep, groaning as the light pierced through the soothing darkness. My body resisted. Just a little longer, I thought. The bed was too cozy, the pillow perfectly cradling my head. I burrowed deeper into the blanket, unwilling to face the interruption. Yet, the light persisted, relentless. It grew harsher, almost searing. Annoyed, I groggily opened my eyes. Sunshine, I thought, blinking at the brightness stabbing through the room. Dammit, I must¡¯ve forgotten to close the blinds. But something didn¡¯t feel right. The air smelled faintly sharp, tinged with something acrid. As I sat up, rubbing my face, I glanced at the window. The moon still hung high in the sky, stars scattered across the dark canvas. Confusion prickled at the edges of my grogginess. Then I noticed it¡ªthe glow wasn¡¯t sunlight. It was flickering, alive. My chest tightened as I approached the window, the acrid scent growing stronger. Flames. The entire front yard was ablaze. My breath hitched as I took in the sight¡ªsoldiers sprawled on the ground, their bodies twisted unnaturally, blood glistening in the firelight. Shadows danced across the once-pristine sculptures, now shrouded in chaos. The peaceful mansion was a battlefield, and the screams of panic and clashing steel began to cut through the night¡¯s eerie quiet. My heart thundered in my chest, a cold sweat breaking across my skin. Panic clawed at my mind as the weight of the situation slammed into me. We¡¯re under attack. ¡°Tiffany¡­ GreekLord21¡­¡± Their names escaped my lips in a breathless whisper. My legs felt like jelly, but my mind was racing. Where are they? Are they safe? The warmth of the bed was a distant memory now, replaced by the cold dread coursing through me. I forced myself to move, stumbling back from the window as the reality of the flames seared itself into my brain. I had to act. And fast! The Seven Endeavors I sprint toward the door, my heart pounding as the mansion begins to tremble. A deafening bang echoes through the air¡ªthe raiders are breaking down the house! I burst outside, shouting at the top of my lungs. "Tiffany!" In the chaos, I spot a soldier aiding a wounded comrade. Without hesitation, I rush over. "Do you know if Tiffany is safe?" I ask, desperation clear in my voice. "Yes," he replies quickly, "she and her parents fled to the backyard with guards." Relief washes over me. "Thank you!" I say, snatching the wounded soldier¡¯s sword and taking off before he can protest. Behind me, I hear him yelling to run away, but I don¡¯t stop. What am I doing? Why am I running toward danger instead of away from it? Why risk my life for someone I barely know? The questions flood my mind, but with each one comes clarity. She helped me¡ªa complete stranger. She and her family welcomed me when they didn¡¯t have to. Now, it¡¯s my turn to repay the kindness. I can¡¯t just leave them to die. Images of Tiffany¡¯s warm smile flash in my mind, kind and genuine. I grip the sword tighter. I¡¯ll protect that smile. I¡¯m coming, Tiffany! The hallways stretch endlessly, but I finally reach the backyard. Exhausted, I use the sword as a crutch, my breath ragged. Even here, I can¡¯t escape my lack of stamina¡ªnot even in this game. "Tiffany!" I call out, my voice strained. Seconds pass before I hear a faint reply. My heart leaps as I realize it¡¯s her voice. But between us lies another obstacle: a forest thick with smoke and strewn with lifeless bodies. Flames rage all around¡ªon fields, campsites, and the mansion itself. Yet the forest remains untouched, eerie and defiant. Through the trees, I discover a hidden structure. There, I see Tiffany, her parents, and several guards. "There you are!" Tiffany exclaims, relief and worry mingling in her tone. I start toward her, but before I can reach her, shadowy figures descend from the sky, landing silently atop the building. The guards tense, some stepping protectively in front of Tiffany¡¯s family. "Protect the family at all costs!" a soldier shouts. One of the figures raises a hand. A spark ignites at his fingertips, quickly forming a blazing fireball. "Fireball!" he roars, launching it. The fireball grows larger, feeding on the oxygen, before slamming into the guards. The explosion is catastrophic, vaporizing them in an instant. As the flames subside, the figures step into the light¡ªseven of them. The one who cast the fireball catches my attention immediately. He looks eerily like me but with red tones and a sleek, robotic design. His chest and forearm armor gleam, a cape billows behind him, and his hat, triangular in shape, contrasts sharply with my own rounded one. His face is complete with a mouth and piercing eyes, setting him apart even more. I grip my sword, but my hands tremble. Fear grips me as more guards rush in, only to be met with brutal efficiency. A girl in a black kimono descends from the roof, landing gracefully. She wields a katana with a dark, intricate design. The guards charge, but she¡¯s faster. She vanishes, reappears, and they collapse, blood staining the earth. The sight freezes me in place. She turns her gaze toward me, and for the first time, I feel true terror. A hand rests on my shoulder, breaking my trance. It¡¯s GreekLord21. His expression is calm but determined. "Take my mistress and her family out of here, Lance," he says firmly. His courage earns my respect, but I shake my head. "Are you kidding? We¡¯re in this together." He smirks. "You¡¯re full of surprises. Fine, let¡¯s fight together." I turn to Tiffany. "When we charge, you and your family run into the woods!" I shout. From the rooftop, a faint voice responds. "That voice¡­" Before I can process it, the girl with the katana charges. "Not gonna happen," she sneers. GreekLord21 and I let out a battle cry, surging forward. She moves like lightning. I swing my sword with all my might, but she¡¯s gone. A scream pierces the air¡ªGreekLord21¡¯s. I turn to see him collapse, blood pouring from a wound I didn¡¯t even see her deliver. My heart races. I clutch my sword, but my knees buckle. "I¡¯m useless," I whisper, dropping to the ground. She approaches me, her katana dripping with blood. "Just kill me," I mutter. She looks down at me, her expression cold. "You¡¯re not a target." With that, she turns and races after Tiffany¡¯s family. I rise to my feet, determined, even as chaos unfolds around me. My gaze locks on the katana-wielding girl as she corners the family. Without hesitation, she strikes down the father, then turns her attention to the mother. My heart races¡ªI''m too far away to intervene in time. Tiffany, the youngest, is the last in her sights. "AHHHHHHH!" I hurl my sword with all my might. The attacker charges Tiffany, her katana poised to strike. Just as she swings, my blade collides with hers, knocking the weapon from her grip. "Bingo!" I exclaim, a surge of relief washing over me. "Not a target, my ass! I may be weak, but my aiming skills from FPS games are second to none!" Admittedly, I was aiming for her, but disarming her works just as well. The attacker glares at me, venom in her voice. "You''re not a target, but if you''re going to defend this demon, then you''re no better than them." "Demon?" I question, confused, but she wastes no time. In a flash, her katana returns to her hand. I glance at the ground; my sword remains where it fell. She retrieved hers with an inhuman speed. Damn it. I¡¯ve bought some time, but now it¡¯s my neck on the line. I sigh, steady myself, and take a fighting stance. "Bring it..." She narrows her eyes and lunges. Time seems to slow. This is it¡ªnow or never! I throw a punch with everything I¡¯ve got. My fist connects¡ªnot with her, but with the red-clad fire-wielder, who appears between us in an instant. One arm blocks my punch, the other stops her katana with just his fingers. "What are you doing, Noobmaster?" she demands, lowering her weapon. His voice, familiar and loaded with recognition, makes my heart stop. "Hector...?" I stare at him, my shock mirrored in his expression. "Rodrick? Is that you!?"The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Dude! How¡¯s it hanging?" Our tension dissolves as we break into our signature bro handshake. The girl in black watches us with a full-on "bruh" expression. Rodrick shouts over his shoulder, "Hey Ivan, get over here!" From atop a nearby building, another figure drops down¡ªa sleek, blue-armored version of us with bug-like eyes and a shorter hat design. "Hello, Hector," Ivan greets, as calm as ever. "Ay, Ivan! Good to see you!" I grin, pulling him into another elaborate handshake. The girl in black, dragging Tiffany by the hair, approaches with a scowl. More figures emerge from the forest¡ªthree in total. ¡°No survivors,¡± one says coldly. Tiffany struggles in the girl¡¯s grip. "Damn you, Endeavors!" she shrieks, her voice venomous and demonic. Rodrick smiles and gestures to the group. "Let me introduce you to my comrades." He points to each of them in turn. "This is Brandon." The large man steps forward with a nod and a warm grin, his silent demeanor radiating calm. Brandon is broad and chubby, with brown skin and a man bun. His expression is steady, his squinty eyes quietly observant. The massive two-handed hammer slung over his shoulder looks as though it weighs a hundred pounds, yet he carries it effortlessly. "Hey," he says softly, the single word brimming with quiet cheer. Rodrick moves on. "And this is Hattori." "Yo, what¡¯s good!" Hattori flashes a wide grin and gives me a casual wave. He¡¯s clad in a violet ninja outfit, sleek and practical, with a strange mechanical device strapped to his hand. His lean, wiry frame and relaxed posture make him seem almost carefree, but there¡¯s an alertness in his robotic eyes that hints at sharp reflexes. "Next up, Strider," Rodrick says with a flourish. Strider steps forward with a salute, his glowing yellow eyes flashing. "Yours truly," he says, his voice dripping with confidence. Towering and broad-shouldered, Strider is fully clad in dazzling dragon-themed armor, predominantly white with hints of black at the joints. His scythe is enormous, its blue blade glinting ominously against the light. "No need to be intimidated," he adds with a smirk. "But, uh, no shame if you are." Rodrick chuckles and gestures to Elaine. "This is Elaine. Careful¡ªshe bites." Elaine shoots him a glare sharp enough to pierce steel and promptly punches him in the gut. "Knock it off," she mutters, still gripping Tiffany by the hair. Elaine is pale, with dark purple eyes and long black hair. Her black kimono sways as she moves, the katana at her hip adding to her air of precision and menace. Unlike the others, she doesn¡¯t bother with pleasantries, her silence colder than ice. Rodrick rubs his stomach with a laugh. "Yeah, okay, I deserved that." Suddenly, a thud echoes through the clearing¡ªa deliberate step or perhaps the impact of a landing. I turn toward the sound as a figure emerges from the shadows. "There she is. Claire." "Shut it, jackass," the girl snaps, her tone razor-sharp. Claire strides into view, her gaze cutting through the air like a blade. My breath catches. Her hair is a stunning mix of light pink and red, a fiery halo framing her face. Those piercing blue eyes could freeze the ocean, and her outfit¡ªa fantasy-style cloak, a white skirt, black stockings, and red accents¡ªcompletes her striking presence. She spares me a glance, her expression cool and disinterested, before looking away. My heart sinks, crushed under her icy indifference. Rodrick shrugs. ¡°Anyways, Lance, we are the Seven Endeavors," Rodrick says, his voice filled with pride. It''s a well-earned pride, considering what this group is capable of. If the rest are anything like Elaine¡ªor stronger¡ªthese are not people to trifle with. Elaine shoves Tiffany forward, her movements precise and cold. "Your orders," she states flatly, her voice devoid of any emotion. Rodrick catches me glancing at Tiffany, my expression conflicted. "I know how you feel, Lance," he says, his tone softening slightly. But then, his face hardens. "You need to see this first." He gestures for me to follow, his voice heavy with a seriousness that demands attention. "Come. I¡¯ll leave it to you to decide her fate, but you need to know the truth." I nod, swallowing hard. "Okay. Thank you, Rodrick." As we walk toward a looming building, I notice something off about Rodrick¡ªhis usual energy seems dampened, his face shadowed with a quiet sadness. We arrive at the structure, its two massive doors standing like grim sentinels before us. Rodrick pauses, glancing back at me one last time. "You ready?" he asks. I nod again. "Yes." Before I can steel myself further, Tiffany''s voice cuts through the air, desperate and trembling. "Don¡¯t open those doors!" she cries. Rodrick ignores her, raising a boot and kicking the doors open with a resounding crash. They swing wide, revealing a dark abyss within. Then the stench hits me¡ªa rancid, gut-wrenching odor that nearly makes me collapse on the spot. I gag, covering my nose. "What is that?!" I manage to choke out. Rodrick, his jaw tight, points ahead. "Look." My gaze follows his gesture, and my stomach twists in horror. The room is lined with cages, each filled with people. They are emaciated, their limbs skeletal, their eyes hollow and lifeless. The oppressive silence of the room is broken only by faint, uneven breaths. This... this is inhumane. My legs falter, and I collapse, my entire body trembling. Rodrick''s voice is low, edged with fury. "This family built their fortune by selling slaves to the highest bidder." I glance back at Tiffany, my thoughts spinning out of control. Did she... did she know about this? "What about Tiffany?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Rodrick¡¯s expression darkens further. "She¡¯s the worst of them all. She manipulated her family to follow her whims. She tortures these people for fun, treats them as nothing more than insects to crush underfoot." His fists clench at his sides, the anger radiating from him palpable. I remain silent, unable to process it all. Rodrick continues, his voice now laced with bitterness. "We know this because one of their victims escaped and told us everything. She endured hell to make it to the capital of Weafdom." He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Let¡¯s go back." I nod weakly, allowing him to guide me back to the group. When we arrive, my gaze locks on Tiffany, who stares back at me, her eyes wide and tear-filled. Rodrick gives Elaine a subtle signal. She releases her grip on Tiffany, who stumbles forward, right in front of me. "Lance," Rodrick says quietly. "It¡¯s your choice." Tiffany¡¯s voice trembles, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. "Don¡¯t listen to them, Lance! I didn¡¯t know! My parents told me to stay out of that place¡ªit¡¯s dangerous! I swear, I was only trying to protect you!" Tears stream down her face, her voice cracking with desperation. My hands shake, my fists clenching tighter as her words wash over me. Ivan steps forward, his voice cold and deliberate. "Unlucky for you, we have a witness." At his signal, a figure steps out from the shadows. A girl in black robes. The moment her eyes land on Tiffany, her expression contorts with terror and rage. "It¡¯s her!" she cries, her voice raw with pain. "She¡¯s the one who made my life a living hell!" Tears pour down her face as she collapses, her body shaking with sobs. Rodrick turns to Tiffany, his expression unreadable but firm. Tiffany¡¯s tears vanish in an instant, replaced by an enraged sneer. "How dare you come back here!" she spits at the girl. Ivan kneels beside the trembling witness. His voice softens. "Can you tell us what happened?" Through her sobs, the girl recounts her nightmare. "I... I was new... to this game," she stammers, her words broken by sobs. "She... she offered me a place to stay... and when I fell asleep... I woke up in a cage." As her words sink in, something clicks in my mind. My own room¡ªit had no lock. Ivan notices my sudden realization. "Sounds familiar, Lance?" I nod, the weight of betrayal crashing down on me. My hands stop trembling. My decision is made. Tiffany¡¯s voice cuts through, sickly sweet and mocking. "Be a hero, Lance. Save me from these monsters." I turn away, my back to her. "You ungrateful bastard!" she screams, her voice venomous. "After everything I¡¯ve done for you, THIS is how you repay me?!" I don¡¯t respond. A sudden movement behind me¡ªTiffany lunges, a hidden knife glinting in her hand. "Fireball." Rodrick¡¯s spell ignites the air, flames engulfing Tiffany before she can reach me. Her screams are brief, her body reduced to ash. "Not on my watch," Rodrick says grimly, lowering his hand. The nightmare ends, but the images of the cages and the broken people linger in my mind. With the battle over and the slaves freed, my body finally gives out. As I collapse, darkness creeping in, I take solace in knowing my friends will watch over me. The N.F.E System After what felt like an eternity, my body finally surrendered to rest, granting me the reprieve it desperately needed. Slowly, I began to stir. The first thing I noticed was the cool touch of grass beneath me, the earthy scent grounding me as I blinked my eyes open. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above, casting a mosaic of light and shadow across the forest floor. I pushed myself up, my muscles stiff but functional. The woods stretched around me, tranquil yet alive with the subtle sounds of nature¡ªrustling leaves, distant birdsong, the soft whisper of the wind. But amidst it all, I caught something else: voices. Not far away, faint yet unmistakable. Where are Rodrick and Ivan? Hope sparked within me as I moved toward the sound. It didn¡¯t take long before I stumbled upon a campsite, one far more elaborate than I expected. The fire at its center crackled warmly, sending gentle wisps of smoke spiraling into the air. Around it, familiar figures went about their routines. Rodrick sat on a log by the fire, his ever-relaxed demeanor complemented by a smirk that hinted at mischief. At a nearby table, Ivan and Hattori were engrossed in something, their heads bent low as they examined a map or diagram. By a towering tree, Brandon sat with his armor set aside, leaning comfortably against the trunk. Animals surrounded him, an almost surreal sight¡ªbirds perched on his arms, a rabbit at his feet. One small bird pecked at seeds he offered, and his broad smile radiated a rare, wholesome serenity. I couldn¡¯t help but pause and take it in. Huh. That¡¯s¡­ oddly wholesome for someone who looks like he could punch a mountain in half. Shaking off my lingering grogginess, I moved toward the fire and sat beside Rodrick. He glanced up and, as if on cue, his face lit up with that trademark cheerfulness of his. ¡°Yo, good morning, bro! Hope you¡¯re fully rested for today,¡± he greeted, his tone a perfect balance of casual and warm. ¡°Morning, Rodrick,¡± I replied, stretching slightly. My eyes narrowed as a smirk tugged at my lips. ¡°Wait¡­ so your name here is Noobmaster? Seriously?¡± Rodrick burst into laughter, throwing his head back dramatically. ¡°It¡¯s NOOBmaster69 to YOU,¡± he declared, still chuckling at his own joke. I rolled my eyes but couldn¡¯t suppress a grin. Typical Rodrick. Noobmaster69 had been his go-to username for years. No matter the game, no matter the situation, he stuck with it, unapologetically owning the ridiculousness. Somehow, it never got old for him¡ªor, admittedly, for me. ¡°So, how about you, Lance?¡± he asked, emphasizing my name with a sassy tone that made my eye twitch. Ah, Lance. My new username. A far cry from the cringe-fest that was my old one: LolGetrektnoob69. I guess you could say I¡¯d grown up a bit. No more edgy gamer tags to haunt me¡ªjust a proper name with a bit of flair. Still, something nagged at me. ¡°Wait a second,¡± I said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°How do you know my name is Lance? I never told you.¡± Rodrick leaned back, his grin widening. ¡°Dude, come on. You think I wouldn¡¯t recognize my own bro, even in this game?¡± I frowned, glancing at him, then at the others. My focus flickered as I tried to examine the overlay, but as usual, all it displayed was a player¡¯s level. There was no way for him to know my username unless I told him¡ªor unless the game had more layers to its mechanics than I¡¯d realized. Something about that thought made me uneasy. Shrugging it off for now, I leaned back and gave Rodrick a side-eye. ¡°You¡¯re still just as insufferable as ever, you know that?¡± ¡°And proud of it!¡± he said, laughing as he threw an arm around my shoulder. The warmth of his laugh, the camaraderie of the group¡ªit all felt¡­ good. But beneath it, a seed of curiosity began to sprout. How much did this game truly know about us? And how much had it already decided? "Speaking of which, Rodrick," I say, narrowing my eyes. "How did you know my name was Lance?" Rodrick pauses mid-laugh, his grin turning sly. "Hmm. Good question." He taps his chin theatrically, then smirks. "But, y¡¯know, I think it¡¯d be better if Ivan explained it." He raises his voice slightly, calling out, "Oi, Ivan! I know your noisy arse heard everything over here." Ivan, sitting at the table with Hattori, doesn¡¯t even look up. "Please don¡¯t put me under the sun like that," he says, his tone smooth but slightly defensive. He stands, brushing off imaginary dust before joining us. "I just happen to know what¡¯s happening around me at all times." He lowers himself onto the log with an air of patience, adjusting his glasses before meeting my gaze. "The answer lies in the N.F.E. system," Ivan begins, his tone matter-of-fact. "There are three core systems every player should know: the level system, the class system, and the N.F.E. system. What you¡¯re asking about falls under the latter." I blink, trying to process the flood of information. There¡¯s even more to this game than I thought. Every piece of knowledge we uncover makes this world seem less like a creation of human hands and more like some impossibly advanced phenomenon. Ivan continues, his words pulling me back to the moment. "Right now, focus on us, Lance." I nod, shifting my attention to Rodrick. Concentrating, I focus on him with intent. To my surprise, new information materializes in my vision¡ªRodrick¡¯s username and level.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Noobmaster69 ¨C LV. 23 "Whoa!" I exclaim, losing my balance and tumbling off the log. "Holy moly, Rodrick! You¡¯re seriously strong." Rodrick laughs, rubbing the back of his head in mock modesty. "Gosh, Lance, you¡¯re making me blush," he says, clearly relishing the compliment. Ivan gives a small, approving nod before explaining further. "The N.F.E. system governs how and when you can see someone¡¯s information. Unless you¡¯ve directly asked for someone¡¯s name or they consider you an ally, their name won¡¯t be revealed. A stranger or neutral party will only show their level, while an enemy will display neither name nor level¡ªno matter how hard you focus." Rodrick jumps in, his tone teasing. "That¡¯s why, when you fought Elaine, you couldn¡¯t see her level or name. Subconsciously, you thought of her as an enemy¡ªeven if you didn¡¯t realize it." I nod slowly, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. So, the system reads your thoughts, determining your perception of others to decide what information is available. That explains why, despite everything, Elaine remained a blank slate during our fight. Rodrick smirks. "To be honest, Lance, we didn¡¯t really see you as an enemy. You were more of¡­ well, a harmless noob," he says bluntly, shrugging. Ouch. His words hit harder than I expected. All that effort I poured into trying to face them like a hero, and they didn¡¯t even see me as a threat. Ivan picks up the explanation, his tone cool and measured. "Mindset is key. If the person you¡¯re focusing on considers you a friend, but you see them as an enemy, you¡¯ll still be blocked from seeing their information. Your own perception becomes the barrier." I sit back, digesting the implications. This game doesn¡¯t just transport you to another world¡ªit knows your thoughts, your intentions, your very mindset. The level of immersion is¡­ unsettling. "And that¡¯s only scratching the surface," Ivan says, his voice taking on an edge of intrigue. "The N.F.E. system runs deeper than most players realize. For example, if you¡¯re sick in real life, you¡¯ll perform weaker here. It also governs actions like opening menus, executing special attacks, and even boosting your abilities in battle when you¡¯re motivated or determined. It¡¯s the hidden engine behind the game." "So," I mutter, piecing it together, "this system doesn¡¯t just account for stats and skills. It factors in a person¡¯s willpower and determination to win a fight?" Ivan nods. "Exactly. It levels the playing field for new players, giving them a chance if their heart is strong enough." I lean back, staring up at the canopy of trees. This world isn¡¯t just a game. It¡¯s something far more intricate¡ªsomething alive. "Man," I say with a shaky laugh. "No pressure or anything, huh?" Rodrick claps me on the back, grinning. "Nah, bro. No pressure. Just, y¡¯know, don¡¯t slack off. We¡¯re all counting on you to keep up." His words are lighthearted, but the weight of the system lingers in my mind. Determination? Motivation? If that¡¯s what it takes, then I¡¯ll have to dig deep. No more falling behind. Hattori signals Ivan from across the campsite, and with a quiet nod, Ivan rises to leave us. As he walks away, curiosity gets the better of me. I focus on him, and his details flicker into view. Ivan ¨C LV. 21 Not bad. Considering Rodrick is a fire type and his red theme complements his flames, I can¡¯t help but speculate about Ivan. He¡¯s blue, calm, and composed¡ªprobably an aqua type. And then there¡¯s me, the third wheel of this supposed elemental trio. Pretty neat setup if you think about it. But as I glance around, I notice something off. The group is quieter than usual. "What happened to the others?" I ask, breaking the silence. Rodrick snaps out of what I can only assume were thoughts about girls¡ªhis signature daydream expression unmistakable. He blinks at me before replying. "Strider went to the river to clean up, and the two girls are training," he says casually. "Wait," I ask, raising an eyebrow, "in this game, do you actually stink if you don¡¯t shower?" Rodrick bursts into laughter. "Haha, no! It¡¯s not like that. He¡¯s cleaning his armor." Now that he mentions it, Strider¡¯s armor is mostly white. I grimace just thinking about how quickly white clothes get dirty. Ugh. I feel for the guy. But wait¡ªsomething doesn¡¯t add up. "Can¡¯t he just take the armor off? Wouldn¡¯t that be simpler?" I ask. Rodrick shakes his head, his grin turning into a knowing smirk. "Nope, he can¡¯t. His ability doesn¡¯t work like that. The armor¡ªand the scythe, too¡ªare part of his ability. When he summons them, they¡¯ll repair themselves over time if they¡¯re damaged, but dirt? That¡¯s his problem." I tilt my head, still not fully understanding. "That makes no sense." Rodrick leans forward, gesturing animatedly as he explains. "Picture this: whenever Strider turns off his ability, the armor and scythe go back inside his body, like they¡¯re being stored. Little repair helpers get to work fixing any damage. But dirt and grime? That doesn¡¯t count as damage, so when he summons them back out, they¡¯re just as messy as before." "Oh," I say, the logic finally clicking into place. "So, he has to clean it manually. Got it. Poor guy." As the conversation lulls, a new thought creeps into my mind. Speaking of abilities¡­ where¡¯s mine? Why don¡¯t I have one yet? It¡¯s starting to feel like I¡¯m the odd one out. "Hey, Rodrick," I begin hesitantly, "I checked my profile, and it says I don¡¯t have an ability. What¡¯s up with that?" Rodrick chuckles knowingly. "Yeah, that¡¯s totally normal for beginners. In this game, you¡¯re not born with an ability¡ªyou unlock it. How that happens is different for everyone." I nod, but he¡¯s not finished. "Oh! And another thing," he adds, holding up a finger. "Some abilities have more than one trump card. It¡¯s super rare, but some players get two quirks tied to their ability. Take Strider, for example. His armor gives him insane strength and defense, but he¡¯s also got his scythe as a secondary perk." "Two quirks?" I ask, leaning in slightly. "That¡¯s impressive." Rodrick nods, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yep. But then there are miracles. And I mean very rare miracles. Once in a blue moon, someone gets an ability with three quirks. In all my time playing, I¡¯ve only met one person like that." I straighten up, my curiosity piqued. "Who?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Rodrick leans in close, a sly smile spreading across his face. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "...It¡¯s Claire." A Battle between Endeavors "Wait, what?!" I exclaim, my voice shooting up in surprise. "Shhh!" Rodrick hisses, yanking me closer by my cape. He glances around as if expecting someone to pop out of the shadows. "Keep it down, man!" He leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Claire¡¯s never openly said it to any guy. The only reason we know is because Elaine found out. I¡¯m telling you, even though they¡¯re training right now, you never know when they¡¯ll pop out of nowhere. Pretty much everyone in the crew knows, but we gotta keep quiet. We don¡¯t want Elaine looking untrustworthy to her." I nod quickly, feeling the weight of his words. He¡¯s right. If Elaine trusted the group enough to share something Claire hadn¡¯t, the least we could do was not jeopardize their bond. There¡¯s probably a reason why Claire keeps this part of herself so private. Rodrick continues, his tone softening. "She technically has a third quirk, but it¡¯s not unlocked yet. She can¡¯t use it until¡­ well, I don¡¯t even know what the trigger is." The idea of a third quirk, locked away and waiting, stirs my curiosity even more. As we talk about abilities, I feel a pang of anxiety creeping in. What about me? When will I unlock mine? Before I can dwell on it, Rodrick¡¯s grin returns full force. "Actually, speaking of her¡ªhey, Hector, let¡¯s go spectate the two ladies," he says, already standing and stretching. I blink, caught off guard by the suggestion. "Wait, what? Spectate? Where are they?" "Just follow me," Rodrick replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes, motioning for me to get up. Without waiting for an answer, he starts walking away from the camp. I get to my feet and follow him through the trees. We walk for a few minutes, the woods thinning slightly as the sounds of camp fade into the distance. Finally, Rodrick stops near a massive oak tree. I glance around, but there¡¯s no sign of Claire or Elaine. "They¡¯re not he¡ª" I start, but Rodrick cuts me off mid-sentence. "Right here, Hector," he says, pointing to something hidden behind the tree. I step closer and spot it¡ªa floating, blue, diamond-shaped light suspended in the air. It hums faintly, glowing with an otherworldly brilliance. Rodrick touches it with his hand, and a faint shimmer ripples across its surface. "Press spectate," he says casually before, without warning, the orb pulls him in with a flash of light. My jaw drops as I take a step back instinctively. The orb looks untouched, glowing steadily as if nothing had happened. Swallowing my hesitation, I reach out and place my hand on its smooth surface. I feel nothing but a faint warmth beneath my fingers. Suddenly, text pops up in front of me, glowing in midair:
(A 1 v 1 combat battle is in progress: Claire vs. Elaine. Current spectator: Noobmaster69. Time remaining: 5 minutes 45 seconds. Would you like to [Spectate] or [Request to Fight]?)
I hesitate, my mind racing. Then, remembering Rodrick¡¯s words, I select [Spectate]. The diamond vanishes immediately, and the familiar hum and flicker from my earlier duel with CakeLover fill the air. The world shifts slightly, the sky darkening to a muted red. The sudden change in atmosphere makes my stomach twist. I feel a light tap on my shoulder and turn to see Rodrick standing there, his grin as smug as ever. "Follow me," he says, motioning for me to hurry. He leads the way out of the woods, the trees giving way to an open field. The air feels electric here, charged with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. Ahead, I see them. I wouldn¡¯t call this training¡ªnot even close. The way Elaine and Claire clash feels more like a fight to the death. Every swing of Elaine¡¯s katana is precise, calculated, and deadly, aiming straight for vital points¡ªthe heart, the head, the throat. Her focus is razor-sharp, her movements a testament to her mastery of the blade. It¡¯s impossible not to respect her skill.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. And yet, my eyes keep drifting to Claire. She wields a massive two-handed spear, nearly as tall as she is, the handle a polished light brown. The weapon itself is something else¡ªa main blade jutting out like a lance, flanked by two smaller blades on either side. It¡¯s not just a tool for stabbing; it¡¯s a weapon of grace and versatility, equally effective as a sword when swung. And Claire? She wields it with a poise that¡¯s almost hypnotic. "That¡¯s part of her ability," Rodrick whispers, leaning closer. "She can summon that spear." I nod absentmindedly, my gaze glued to her. The way she moves¡ªit¡¯s like watching a dancer in the middle of a battle. Each step, each strike flows seamlessly into the next. Her movements are a symphony of precision and elegance, her strikes calculated to disarm and overwhelm rather than destroy. It¡¯s as if she¡¯s turned combat into an art form. And as much as I admire Elaine¡¯s direct, no-nonsense approach, Claire is the one who leaves me breathless. The truth is, I¡¯ve felt this way ever since I first saw her. Something about her sharp, confident demeanor drew me in, even when she was at her coldest. But this? Seeing her in her element, commanding the battlefield with such skill and beauty¡ªit¡¯s enough to make my chest tighten. "Hey, Hector," Rodrick¡¯s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at him, startled. "Yeah?" I reply, trying to play it cool. He grins, that mischievous glint in his eye making me immediately suspicious. "Check this out." He raises a hand, and a tiny flame flickers to life at his fingertip. My stomach sinks. "No, Rodrick! Stop!" I lunge for his arm, but it¡¯s too late. "Fireball," he says nonchalantly, and the flame shoots toward the battlefield. My heart jumps into my throat, panic surging through me. But just before it reaches them, the fireball collides with an invisible barrier and fizzles out harmlessly. Rodrick laughs, leaning casually against a tree. "Relax, man. I just thought I¡¯d drop a little knowledge on you, that¡¯s all." I glare at him, still catching my breath. "You could¡¯ve said that instead of making me think you were about to incinerate them!" He shrugs, completely unfazed. "Where¡¯s the fun in that?" I turn back to the fight, just in time to see Elaine¡¯s katana ignite. Flames ripple along the blade, casting a fiery glow that reflects in her determined eyes. "Dragon Swing!" she shouts, and with a powerful sweep, she sends a wave of fire hurtling toward Claire. But Claire doesn¡¯t flinch. She plants her spear firmly into the ground, raises it high, and waits. Just as the fire closes in, she swings the spear downward with incredible force. The clash is spectacular¡ªthe fire resists, swirling and crackling like a living thing. But Claire¡¯s resolve is unshakable. With a fierce cry, she forces the flames downward until they collapse into a roaring wall of fire that separates the two combatants. I think it¡¯s over, but Claire surprises me again. She grips her spear tightly and sprints toward the fire. In one fluid motion, she plants the spear into the ground and vaults over the blazing wall. Her timing is impeccable, her landing flawless. Elaine, caught completely off guard, has no chance to react before Claire¡¯s boot connects with her chest, sending her sprawling to the ground. Claire doesn¡¯t hesitate. In a blur of movement, she pins Elaine down, the tip of her spear hovering dangerously close to Elaine¡¯s neck. The fight is over. Elaine groans, catching her breath. "Man, you¡¯re crazy. That was reckless, Claire." Claire¡¯s spear dissolves into thin air, and she offers a hand to Elaine. For a moment, I expect her usual coldness, maybe a sharp remark. But then, she smiles. "Never let your guard down," she says, her voice warm, her smile genuine. And just like that, my heart skips a beat. It¡¯s a completely new side of her, one I never thought I¡¯d see. Claire, who always seemed so rude and unapproachable, now looks¡­ radiant. The smile softens her sharp features, turning her from a fearsome warrior into someone breathtakingly human. It¡¯s not just her beauty¡ªit¡¯s the sheer joy in her expression. She looks happy, and it makes my chest feel tight and my face hot. I touch my cheek, trying to ground myself, but my hand doesn¡¯t feel right. I glance down, and my breath catches. My fingers are dissolving, turning into shimmering particles of light. "What¡¯s going on?!" I ask, panic rising in my voice. "Time¡¯s up, my dude," Rodrick says, his tone casual as ever. I glance at him, and he, too, is beginning to dissolve. I look back at the field, but Elaine and Claire are already gone, the remnants of their battle fading into the red-tinted sky. The world around me begins to blur, pulling me back to wherever the game decides I should go. I close my eyes, surrendering to the strange sensation. But instead of darkness, I see her smile. The Band of the Cardinals I opened my eyes to the soft light of morning, blinking away the remnants of the spectate session. The memory of Claire¡¯s smile lingered, vivid and warm, but I quickly pushed it aside. Back at camp, the girls and Strider were already waiting. There wasn¡¯t much conversation¡ªjust the quiet efficiency of packing up before we set out. The journey that followed was... dull, to say the least. We trekked across an open grassy field, the kind that stretched endlessly in every direction. No trees, no animals, just the sun hanging lazily in the sky and a few clouds drifting overhead. The kind of scenery that would normally make me daydream or feel some kind of peace, but not today. Today, my thoughts kept circling back to someone. Claire. It was like I couldn¡¯t help it. Her face kept popping into my mind¡ªthe way she fought with such grace, the sharpness in her eyes, and, of course, that smile. That smile felt like seeing the sun for the first time after a long winter. But now the question burned in my mind: How do I get her to notice me? Out of all of us, she¡¯s the least approachable. She¡¯s never rude to the others, not exactly¡ªbut she keeps her distance, as if she¡¯s built a wall around herself that no one dares to climb. Even Rodrick, who practically makes a sport of flirting with every girl we pass, doesn¡¯t dare approach her. It¡¯s almost comical. Normally, he¡¯d be elbowing me with some comment about her figure, but when it comes to Claire? Nothing. Not even a whisper. I guess even the mightiest of bros knows his limits. I shake my head, forcing my thoughts to shift gears. Focus, Hector. Now¡¯s not the time to obsess over your little crush. There were more important things at hand¡ªthings like Rodrick¡¯s mention of their leader before we left. The leader of the Seven Endeavors. Rodrick had spoken highly of him, calling him the one who personally assembled this elite force. If Rodrick thinks so much of him, then this guy must be incredible. Probably stronger than Rodrick, which is saying a lot. My curiosity buzzed with questions. What kind of man is he? What¡¯s his story? And if the Seven Endeavors are this powerful, just how strong must their leader be? The walk dragged on, eating up half the day. The monotony of the field gave way to dense trees, their canopy blocking out the sun. As we pushed through the thickets, a sprawling base came into view, hidden in the heart of the forest. My jaw nearly dropped at the sight. This wasn¡¯t some small outpost. It was a full-fledged military base, teeming with soldiers¡ªeasily over 500, by my guess. The energy of the place was palpable, a mix of discipline and camaraderie as soldiers moved with purpose. We passed through the throng, and I couldn¡¯t help but notice the way people reacted. All eyes seemed to light up when they saw Rodrick and Ivan. Cheers and greetings followed them like a ripple in a pond, their presence clearly well-known and well-loved here. The same went for the rest of the Endeavors¡ªeach greeted with respect and admiration. Well, almost all of them. No one spared Claire a glance. Not a single word, not a single nod of acknowledgment. It was as if she didn¡¯t exist. If it bothered her, she didn¡¯t show it. She walked with her usual air of icy composure, her head high and her gaze fixed forward. It was almost like she didn¡¯t even notice. I wondered what it must be like to carry yourself that way. To brush off the opinions of everyone around you as if they didn¡¯t matter. Was it strength? Or was it armor? We reached the center of the base, where a large tent loomed. The group filed in without a word, and I followed close behind. Inside, the air was cooler, dimly lit by a lantern hanging from the center pole. The first thing I noticed was the table¡ªa heavy, wooden piece covered in maps, charts, and scattered notes. Four men stood around it, their postures straight and commanding. This was it. The heart of the operation. And if I had to guess, one of these men was the leader I¡¯d heard so much about. "Hey, Dante," Rodrick calls out as we step into the tent. The man standing at the center of the room, his back to us, turns slowly. His blue cape sways slightly with the movement, catching the dim light of the lanterns. His armor, gleaming white and adorned with intricate silver accents, is pristine despite the battles it must have seen. And then there¡¯s his face¡ªrobotic yet striking, with faint blue lines glowing softly along his angular features. He looks every bit the leader Rodrick described. "Ah, you¡¯re back," Dante says, his tone calm but laced with authority. "How did it go?" "Dead," Rodrick replies flatly, his usual cheerfulness absent. Dante¡¯s glowing eyes narrow slightly. "All of them?" Rodrick nods, his voice quiet but firm. "All of them." Dante exhales through his nose, his posture rigid. "And the slaves?" "We left word with the sheriff in Sully Shark Town. They¡¯ll take care of it," Rodrick says.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The two continue their conversation, their words blending into the background as my eyes wander. The tent feels almost alive with its sense of purpose. Weapons and armor line the walls, meticulously organized. Maps and charts cover the central table, their edges weighted down by daggers and other trinkets. Every detail of this space screams preparation, precision, and power. My gaze drifts to the man standing beside Dante. He¡¯s tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in polished white armor. There¡¯s an air of refinement about him, from the way he stands to the subtle confidence in his expression. He looks like the kind of guy who could charm his way out of¡ªor into¡ªany situation. Definitely someone who¡¯s used to being noticed. I¡¯m startled from my observations when Dante¡¯s glowing eyes lock onto me. "Who¡¯s that?" he asks, nodding in my direction. I straighten up, my pulse quickening. "Uh, hello, sir! My name is Lance." Somehow, despite my nerves, the words come out smoothly, and I manage not to trip over my own tongue. Rodrick steps forward, his tone earnest. "Dante, I¡¯ve got a favor to ask. I want you to recruit him. Look, I know he¡¯s only level one, but I see a lot of potential in him. He¡¯s quick to adapt, and he¡¯s already proven he can handle himself in tough situations. Ivan and I both vouch for him¡ªtrust me, he¡¯s got what it takes to be a great soldier. Please, Dante, give him a chance." Rodrick bows deeply, a gesture of respect that catches me off guard. Without thinking, I follow suit, lowering my head in unison. Dante doesn¡¯t answer immediately. He studies me for a moment, his unreadable gaze making me feel like I¡¯m under a microscope. Just as the silence begins to feel unbearable, the man beside him¡ªVoly¡ªspeaks up. "Rodrick, I understand your loyalty to this boy, but we have policies for a reason," Voly says, his voice smooth but firm. "We only accept level five players and above into the Cardinals. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s important to you, but personal connections can¡¯t override¡ª" "He¡¯s in," Dante interrupts, his voice cutting through Voly¡¯s protest like a blade. Voly blinks, clearly caught off guard. "Sir, with all due respect¡ª" "I¡¯ve made my decision," Dante says firmly, turning to face him fully. "No buts." Voly hesitates, his jaw tightening. "May I ask why?" Dante¡¯s glowing eyes narrow slightly as he replies. "Voly, last month we lost the Robbins family to the demon army. Their strength, their resources¡ªthey were critical to our efforts. If we¡¯re going to win this war, we can¡¯t afford to turn away help. Rodrick and Ivan are two of our most trusted members, and I value their judgment. If they believe in this boy, then so do I." With that, Dante steps toward me, his hand extended. "Welcome to the Cardinals. I¡¯m Dante, leader of this army." I take his hand, gripping it firmly despite the tremor in my fingers. "Thank you, sir. I won¡¯t let you down." Voly steps forward next, his earlier resistance replaced by a composed smile. "Welcome aboard, Lance. My apologies for the hesitation earlier. I¡¯m Voly, a general in the Cardinals and Dante¡¯s left-hand man. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you." I shake his hand as well, nodding. "Thank you. I¡¯ll do my best to prove myself." They return to their work, discussing strategies and logistics as if nothing had happened. For me, though, it¡¯s a moment I¡¯ll never forget. As I step outside the tent, a wave of pride washes over me. I feel like I¡¯ve taken my first real step toward something meaningful. But my elation is short-lived. "I don¡¯t accept it." The voice is cold, sharp, and unmistakable. I turn, and there she is¡ªClaire. Her arms are crossed, and her glare could freeze the air around her. There¡¯s no mistaking the hatred in her expression. "That happy-go-lucky face of yours won¡¯t mean a damn thing in the long run," she says, her voice dripping with venom. "Dante might¡¯ve let you in, but I haven¡¯t. You won¡¯t last. You¡¯ll just end up dead like the little maggot you are." Her words hit hard, every syllable laced with contempt. But there¡¯s something else behind her eyes¡ªsomething deeper, harder to define. Maybe she¡¯s testing me. Maybe she means every word. Either way, I won¡¯t give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. I force a smile, meeting her glare head-on. "Well," I say, my voice calm but resolute, "I guess I¡¯ll just have to prove myself worthy, won¡¯t I?" For a moment, her eyes narrow, her gaze burning into mine. Then, with a scoff, she turns and walks away, her presence as cold and unyielding as ever. I let out a breath I didn¡¯t realize I was holding. Despite her words, despite the weight of her disdain, I feel something else stirring inside me. Determination. If Claire doesn¡¯t believe in me now, I¡¯ll work twice as hard to earn her respect. One day, I¡¯ll show her¡ªand everyone else¡ªthat I belong here. With that thought grounding me, I step away from the tent, ready to face whatever comes next. "Hey, Noobmaster69," I call out, my voice cutting through the quiet. Rodrick turns, raising an eyebrow at me. "Yeah? What¡¯s up?" I hesitate for a moment, then take a breath. "Can you tell me how to log off this game?" I ask. It¡¯s been three days since I entered this world, and while the excitement and adventure have been overwhelming in the best way, reality is starting to creep back in. My parents must be freaking out by now. School? Not so much of a concern¡ªI joined the game on a Friday, so at least I have that buffer. But today is Sunday. Monday¡¯s looming, and I can¡¯t just vanish forever. Rodrick scratches the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Oh, right. Logging off. Yeah, that might be important." He gestures for me to follow. "Come on, I¡¯ll show you." I fall into step behind him as he leads me out of the forest. The towering trees thin out, giving way to an open stretch of road. The sun hangs low on the horizon, its warm light painting the path ahead in shades of gold and orange. It¡¯s beautiful in a way that feels almost too real¡ªevery detail, from the faint chirping of distant birds to the soft rustle of the wind through the grass, is vivid and alive. It¡¯s easy to forget this is all supposed to be a game. Rodrick doesn¡¯t say much as we walk, his usual chatter replaced by a calm focus. It¡¯s not long before we reach the outskirts of a new town. The wooden sign at the entrance creaks slightly in the breeze, the faded lettering spelling out the name: Luka Town. Invasion of the Army made of Demons "Hey, Hector," Rodrick says as we make our way through the forest. "By the way, I should probably mention¡ªeach day you spend here is just an hour over there." I stop mid-step, spinning to face him with a mixture of disbelief and irritation. "What?! You couldn¡¯t have told me this sooner?" Rodrick shrugs, his grin infuriatingly nonchalant. "Slipped my mind. But hey, at least you know now, right?" I groan, shaking my head. "Unbelievable. Anyway, I still need to head back. This whole adventure has been one big rollercoaster, and I could really use a break. You know, actual rest. Maybe even eat something that isn¡¯t¡­ whatever counts as game food." "Fair enough," Rodrick says, nodding as he motions for me to follow. "Come on, Luka Town¡¯s not far." We emerge from the dense forest, the sunlight breaking through the canopy and revealing a sprawling open field. And at the edge of it, perched on a gentle hill, is Luka Town. But this isn¡¯t like the towns I¡¯ve seen before. At first glance, Luka looks simple¡ªquaint even¡ªbut as we get closer, the game¡¯s flair for the fantastical becomes clear. The town has a modular feel, like it¡¯s constantly evolving. Buildings aren¡¯t just built¡ªthey¡¯re growing. Tendrils of glowing vines crawl up the sides of stone structures, their bioluminescence casting a soft, ethereal glow. Some of the houses are perched on mechanical legs that slowly shift positions, as if the buildings themselves are alive. One structure even floats a few feet above the ground, tethered by shimmering chains of light. "Welcome to Luka Town," Rodrick says with a flourish. "One of the weirdest little towns in this game." The streets are lined with smooth, reflective tiles that shimmer faintly as we step on them, lighting up in soft colors that ripple outward like water. A faint hum fills the air, and I realize it¡¯s coming from the street itself, almost as if the town has a heartbeat. NPCs and players move through the streets, their steps leaving behind brief trails of glowing footprints that fade after a few moments. "What¡¯s up with the buildings?" I ask, marveling at the combination of natural and mechanical elements. "Luka¡¯s famous for this kind of stuff," Rodrick explains, gesturing to a house with mechanical shutters that open and close like blinking eyes. "They call it ''bio-mechanical architecture.'' Half magic, half tech. The town¡¯s designed to adapt to the environment¡ªkinda like a living organism. Cool, huh?" I nod, watching as a vendor¡¯s stall reshapes itself to accommodate a new display of goods. The table splits in two, glowing seams appearing as the pieces shift seamlessly into place. It¡¯s mesmerizing in a way that feels uniquely game-like, a blend of fantasy and sci-fi that you¡¯d never see in real life. We pass a group of kids chasing what looks like a ball of sentient light, its movement erratic as it zips around the plaza. They laugh and shout, trying to corner it, but the light always seems one step ahead, dodging their every move. "And over there," Rodrick says, pointing to the town square, "is Player¡¯s Haven. It¡¯s where you¡¯ll find your log-out portal. Trust me, you¡¯ll love it." We walk toward the center of town, and the futuristic vibe becomes even more pronounced. The square is dominated by a sleek, spherical building made of a material that seems to shimmer and shift in the light. It¡¯s as if the structure is made of liquid metal, constantly moving but never breaking form. The portal itself, housed within, glows a bright, pulsing blue, its energy radiating outward like ripples in a pond. "Here it is," Rodrick says as we stop in front of the entrance. "Inside, there¡¯s a portal that¡¯ll take you straight back to the last TV you entered from. Easy as pie." I glance at the building, then back at Rodrick. "Thanks," I say sincerely. He grins and extends a fist. We brofist, the gesture feeling like a promise of more adventures to come. "Catch you later, dude. Don¡¯t stay gone too long. We¡¯ve got plenty of chaos to cause."This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Yeah, yeah," I reply with a laugh, turning to head inside. The interior of the spherical building is just as impressive as the exterior. The walls pulse with light, shifting between shades of blue and silver, as if reflecting the energy of the portal at its center. The air feels charged, like static before a storm, and the faint hum of the portal¡¯s energy fills the space. I step toward it, feeling its pull even before I¡¯m close. The portal itself is mesmerizing¡ªan ever-shifting vortex of light and color, its surface rippling like liquid glass. I hesitate for a moment, letting the awe wash over me. Then, with a deep breath, I step forward and let it take me. The familiar sensation of falling through endless colors hits me again, the vortex pulling me in with dizzying speed. It¡¯s chaotic yet oddly comforting, like I¡¯m being cradled by the very fabric of the game. And then, just like that, I¡¯m back. I land with a soft thud in my living room, the warm glow of home wrapping around me like a blanket. The sounds of reality¡ªthe faint hum of the fridge, the distant bark of a neighbor¡¯s dog¡ªhit me all at once. It¡¯s almost overwhelming after the vibrant silence of Luka Town. But then I notice something. A trickle of wetness runs down my nose. I touch it and find blood on my fingers. Right. My dumbass hit my nose too hard before all this started. I laugh, shaking my head as I wipe it away. My stomach growls loudly, snapping me back to the present. "Okay, okay, food first," I mutter, heading toward the kitchen. "Existential reflections later." The rest of the day passes in a blur. I eat, shower, and let the exhaustion of the past few days catch up with me. By the time night falls, I¡¯m too drained to even think about playing games. My console sits untouched as I crawl into bed, my body sinking into the mattress like it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve ever rested. As I close my eyes, the memories of Luka Town, the Seven Endeavors, and everything else drift through my mind. But one image lingers longer than the rest. Her smile. The night was unnaturally still, the kind of silence that preceded calamity. The village of Ormath, nestled in a quiet valley, had once been a haven of life and warmth. Now, it sat under an oppressive hush, its streets empty, its doors locked, its people praying for safety they would not find. The sound came first¡ªa deep, rhythmic pounding that seemed to rise from the earth itself. Then, the horizon glowed red with an unnatural light, casting long, jagged shadows. The Demon Army was here. They were a force beyond comprehension, a tide of devastation that consumed all in their path. At the forefront marched the foot soldiers, twisted monstrosities that seemed cobbled together from nightmare and reality. Their bodies were malformed, their flesh marked by jagged scars and pulsating wounds. Their glowing green eyes burned with primal hunger as they advanced, their guttural growls merging into a single, deafening roar. Behind them came the beasts¡ªhulking creatures whose grotesque forms defied reason. A giant with flesh that looked like molten rock swung a spiked club large enough to level buildings. An insectoid horror scuttled alongside it, its pincers clicking in eager anticipation. Above, the sky was darkened by winged demons, their screeches cutting through the night as they circled like vultures, waiting to descend. The village¡¯s defenses, meager at best, were swept aside with brutal efficiency. Doors splintered, walls crumbled, and screams pierced the air as the horde descended. The foot soldiers tore through the streets, dragging villagers from their homes and slaughtering them without mercy. Some were chained and hauled away, their fates sealed. Others fell where they stood, their blood painting the cobblestones. And amidst the chaos, he stood. Shrouded in shadow, the leader of the Demon Army was a figure of terrifying presence. He did not move with the mindless ferocity of his horde but with the cold precision of a predator. His bladed limbs pierced the ground as he walked, trampling the dead with chilling indifference. The glowing crystal embedded in his face cast an ominous purple light, illuminating his path as he surveyed the carnage with quiet authority. With a single gesture, the tide surged forward, and the true massacre began. The beasts wreaked havoc with terrifying efficiency. The giant swung its club in a wide arc, leveling an entire row of houses in one blow. The insectoid creature scuttled through the streets, its pincers snapping up villagers like prey. A winged demon swooped down, snatching a fleeing child from the ground and vanishing into the night. By the time the first light of dawn broke, Ormath was nothing but ash and ruin. The once-thriving village was a graveyard, its streets littered with the bodies of those who had called it home. The Demon Army moved on, their march unrelenting, their hunger insatiable. Miles away, the Band of the Cardinals gathered around their campfire, their spirits high as they shared stories and laughter. They spoke of strategies and battles to come, their confidence unshaken. But they had no idea. No idea of the storm that awaited them. The Demon Army was not just an enemy. It was annihilation. And the Cardinals, for all their strength and resolve, were marching blindly into the jaws of despair. Tavern scuffles I woke up early the next day, still groggy from the events of the game. For some reason, my body automatically fell into its weekday routine. I dressed in my school uniform, grabbed my bag, and headed downstairs, only to stop short when I noticed the eerie stillness outside. No cars in the driveway. No kids at the bus stop. No rumble of engines or early-morning chatter. I sighed, the realization hitting me like a bad punchline. It¡¯s Saturday. "Nice one, Lance," I muttered to myself with a laugh, shaking my head. Rodrick¡¯s comment about the time difference in the game came rushing back. On the bright side, I had the house to myself and no school to drag me down. A free day to spend how I wanted. After changing back into something more comfortable, I made another breakfast, determined to fuel up for another session in the game. Once I was ready, I fired up the console, the hum of the portal pulling me in. The swirling vortex deposited me back into Luka Town, exactly where I¡¯d left off. The transition was seamless, almost comforting in its familiarity. The vibrant, biomechanical elements of Luka Town came alive around me¡ªthe glowing vines creeping up the buildings, the mechanical legs of some structures shifting subtly, and the faint hum of energy that seemed to pulse through the streets. The roads shimmered beneath my feet, rippling softly like water as I stepped forward. NPCs and players bustled about, their movements leaving glowing trails of light in their wake. It felt like the town itself was alive, adapting to its inhabitants. Kids chased a ball of sentient light through the plaza, their laughter blending with the ambient hum. It was the same Luka Town I¡¯d left, but something in the air felt heavier¡ªunease hung like a low mist, subtle but present. Retracing my steps, I made my way back to the Cardinals¡¯ base. As I entered the camp, the tension became palpable. Soldiers moved with hurried purpose, their faces grim, and the usual energy of the base was replaced by a quiet nervousness. Something had happened. I spotted Ivan and Dante near the command tent and headed toward them. Ivan stood as calm and composed as always, though his sharp eyes missed nothing. Dante, however, was pacing back and forth, his gaze locked on the ground as if searching for answers in the dirt. "Hey, Ivan," I called out as I approached. "What¡¯s going on?" Ivan turned to me, his expression steady but tinged with something I couldn¡¯t quite place. "Last night," he began, his voice low, "one of our allies, the Raven Army, disappeared." I blinked, startled. "Disappeared? What do you mean?" "Rumor has it," Ivan continued, "that another ¡®red sea¡¯ was found near their territory." "Another one?" I asked, the words tumbling out before I could process them fully. Ivan nodded, his calm facade showing the smallest crack of worry. "The Demon Army," he explained. "They strike at random, vanishing as quickly as they appear. In the past three months, they¡¯ve taken down three of our strongest allies. The Ravens are just the latest." I hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. "Then why don¡¯t we work with the other armies to take them down? Surely, with how dangerous they are, everyone else must be just as worried. Wouldn¡¯t they want to join forces?" Ivan shook his head, his expression grim. "It¡¯s not that simple. Nobody has been able to locate the Demon Army. They don¡¯t leave traces. No trails, no survivors who can offer insight. Every time we¡¯ve joined forces to investigate, we¡¯ve found nothing. The Demon Army doesn¡¯t just fight us¡ªthey control the battlefield itself. They find you. And when they¡¯re done, they vanish." His words sent a chill through me. For the first time, Ivan¡ªthe steady, unshakable strategist¡ªlooked genuinely concerned. Before I could ask more, Dante strode over. His sudden presence startled me, and I instinctively saluted like an idiot. "Good morning, sir!" I barked, my voice coming out louder than I intended. Dante stopped mid-step, blinking at me before letting out a warm chuckle. "Good morning, Lance," he said, amusement flickering across his face. "No need to stand on ceremony. You¡¯re not quite a soldier yet." I relaxed slightly, though my face burned with embarrassment. Dante turned his attention to Ivan, his tone shifting back to business. "Ivan, have you seen General Bruce? I¡¯ve been looking for him all morning." Ivan¡¯s sharp gaze flicked toward the camp before returning to Dante. "Not recently, sir. He may be at the training grounds. Shall I send someone to check?" Dante shook his head. "No, I¡¯ll handle it. If you hear anything, let me know immediately." With that, he gave a brief nod and strode off, his usual commanding demeanor marred by an unspoken tension.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. I turned back to Ivan, my mind racing. "So," I asked hesitantly, "what happens now?" Ivan¡¯s eyes met mine, his expression as unreadable as ever. "We prepare," he said simply. "And we wait. Because whether we like it or not, the Demon Army will come to us eventually." His words hung heavy in the air, their weight pressing against me like an invisible force. For the first time, I truly felt the scale of the threat looming over us. Ivan and I walked through the camp toward the training grounds, the tension from earlier still heavy in the air. Dante had asked Ivan to find General Bruce, and now I was along for the ride. As we reached the training area, a soldier approached us. Ivan stopped him, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly. "Have you seen General Bruce?" The soldier nodded. "Yes, sir. He went into town earlier. Said he was looking for information about the Aspirital Empire." Ivan considered this for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Understood. Go about your duties." Turning to me, he motioned for me to follow. "Let¡¯s go find him." I groaned inwardly. "Great, here we go again," I muttered, falling into step behind him. "Where do you think he¡¯ll be?" I asked after a moment. "If he¡¯s looking for information, the inn is the best bet," Ivan replied. "It¡¯s a hub for players and NPCs alike¡ªplenty of people willing to trade rumors and gossip for the right price. If Bruce is anywhere, he¡¯ll be there." It didn¡¯t take long to reach the inn, but the moment we stepped inside, the atmosphere hit me like a punch to the face. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming, burning my nose as we pushed through the crowded room. The noise was deafening¡ªdrunken laughter and slurred conversations competing with the clatter of mugs and plates. It was chaotic, to say the least, and finding Bruce in this mess felt like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Ivan glanced around briefly before turning to me. "Let¡¯s split up. I¡¯ll check the right side; you take the left." "Fine," I said, though I couldn¡¯t hide my frustration. "But how am I supposed to recognize him? What does he look like?" "Look for a tall man in black robes," Ivan replied simply. I threw up my hands. "Seriously? Half the people here are in black robes! That¡¯s not exactly helpful, Ivan." He remained as calm as ever. "Bruce isn¡¯t the type to wear anything flashy or colorful. Just ask around for a man named Bruce. Once I¡¯m done on my side, I¡¯ll assist you." "Alright," I muttered, shaking my head. "Let¡¯s get this over with." We went our separate ways, weaving through the chaotic crowd. I approached table after table, asking for Bruce, but all I got were blank stares and unhelpful shrugs. The frustration was mounting, but I pushed on, determined not to give up. As I moved to another corner of the inn, my attention was suddenly drawn to a commotion nearby. A waitress had just set a drink down at a table, but before she could leave, a large, burly man grabbed her wrist. He was armored, his sword sheathed at his side, and his sloppy grin made my stomach churn. I focused on him briefly: Level 17. "Thank you soooo much, sweet cheeks," he slurred, his grip tightening on her arm. "But I¡¯d like to ask for one more thing." The waitress froze, her arm trembling. "Uh¡­ yes?" she stammered, clearly nervous. "How about a little smooch right here?" He tapped his lips, leaning back smugly. "I just need some motivation to start the day. I¡¯ll pay double if you do." "Um¡­ sorry, but I refuse," the waitress said, trying to stay polite as she pulled at her arm. "Can you please let go?" "C¡¯mon, sweet thing. Just one. I¡¯ll triple the pay!" he insisted, pulling her closer. My fists clenched. I stopped asking for Bruce, my full attention now on this jerk. My heart pounded as I debated stepping in, but reality hit hard¡ªI was still level one. Going up against him would be a disaster. My foot hesitated mid-step, my hands tightening into fists. Dammit! Before I could make a decision, another figure entered the scene. He rose from the bar and walked toward the table with an air of quiet authority. His black robes concealed most of his features, the hood covering his face completely. When he spoke, his voice was cold, emotionless. "She asked you to stop," he said simply. The drunk man glared at him. "Hey, don¡¯t be a cockblocker. Get lost." The robed figure didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he grabbed the drunk man¡¯s forearm and squeezed. The man winced, his grip on the waitress loosening. She yanked her arm free and bolted, disappearing into the crowd. "Now look what you¡¯ve done," the drunk man growled, drawing his sword. "You¡¯re gonna regret this." The robed figure remained unfazed, his silence unnerving. The drunk man shouted and lunged, his blade jabbing toward his opponent. But the robed figure caught the blade barehanded, holding it with an almost casual grip. "Is that it?" he asked, his voice a chilling monotone. Letting go of the blade, he reached behind his back and pulled out a massive chunk of raw iron¡ªa weapon so large it looked almost comical. He raised it high, the iron catching the flickering light of the inn¡¯s lanterns. The drunk man froze, his eyes wide with terror. He tried to block the incoming strike with his sword, but it was useless. The iron slab came down with a deafening crash, slicing through the man¡¯s sword, his armor, his arm, the table, and even the ground beneath it. The sheer force of the blow left a crater in the inn¡¯s wooden floor. The hood flew back, revealing the man beneath. He was human, his skin light brown and his short, messy black hair damp with sweat. His expression was as cold as his voice had been, his dark eyes scanning the room. "Consider this a warning," he said, his tone devoid of any emotion. "The next time you pull something like this, I¡¯ll take more than just your arm." The room was silent. All eyes were on him, including mine, wide with shock. Whoever this guy was, he wasn¡¯t someone to cross. The training begins Without a word, he turned and fled, tears streaming down his face. The robed man turned to the bartender and dropped a small pouch onto the counter. "I¡¯ll pay for his drink and the damages," he said flatly. The bartender nodded quickly, his hands trembling. The man turned toward the door, his massive weapon slung over his back. Gathering my courage, I called out to him. "A-are you Bruce?" I asked timidly. He stopped, turning his piercing gaze on me. My breath caught, and for a moment, I regretted asking. "How do you know my name?" he asked. I swallowed hard. "D-Dante wants to speak with you." He nodded once and walked out without another word. When I joined Ivan outside, he gave me a small wave. "Nice job," he said, his tone as steady as ever. We scanned the area for Bruce, but he was nowhere in sight. "Where did he go?" I asked, confused. Ivan pointed skyward. "He flew back to the Band." My jaw dropped. "Wait, what?! He can fly?" Ivan nodded, his calm demeanor never wavering. "Yes. Bruce can fly. So can I, Rodrick, Dante, and Voly." I stared at him, dumbfounded. "Why didn¡¯t you mention this earlier?!" Ivan smirked faintly before lifting off the ground, hovering effortlessly. "Flying isn¡¯t as simple as it looks. It¡¯s a skill, and not everyone can master it. For flying-type users, it¡¯s instinctual. For the rest of us, it¡¯s a challenge." "Can you teach me?" I asked, dropping to my knees in dramatic desperation. "Not now," Ivan replied firmly. "Your focus should be on training. Once you¡¯ve improved and grasped the basics, I¡¯ll consider teaching you." "Fine," I said, standing and brushing off my knees. "I¡¯ll train hard, I promise." Ivan nodded, a small smile breaking through his usual stoicism. "I know you will." "I know you will," Ivan said, his voice calm yet teasing. "You always did better than me or Rodrick at any game. But, as of right now¡­" He paused, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You¡¯re technically our worst soldier. I mean, we¡¯ve never before accepted a level one noob." "Geez, thanks," I replied, shooting him a glare. "Your faith in me is inspiring." Ivan chuckled softly, his expression returning to its usual composed state. With that, we made our way back to the Band. The camp buzzed with activity when we arrived. Soldiers trained in the distance, the rhythmic clash of weapons echoing through the air. Strategists hunched over tables, their faces lit by the glow of maps and tactical displays. Even in its busyness, the camp radiated a quiet determination, as though every person here understood the stakes of what lay ahead. We found Rodrick lounging near the edge of the camp, already in the middle of a spirited conversation with some soldiers. His boisterous laughter carried across the space, and as soon as he spotted us, he waved us over enthusiastically.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "Finally back, huh?" he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "How¡¯d it go with Bruce? Did he scare the pants off you?" I rolled my eyes. "Let¡¯s just say he made an impression." Rodrick laughed. "Yeah, he¡¯s good at that. Don¡¯t worry¡ªyou¡¯ll get used to him." After exchanging a few more words, I excused myself to find Dante. The leader of the Band was easy to spot, his commanding presence drawing the attention of everyone nearby. He stood at the center of the camp, deep in discussion with a group of lieutenants. When I approached, he turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "Dante, I¡¯ve got about eight hours in real life, which translates to eight days here," I explained. "Before I head back, I want to use that time to train." Dante regarded me thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. "Understood. You¡¯ll spend two days with each member of the Seven Endeavors. Learn everything you can from them." He handed me a sword¡ªa sleek, balanced weapon that felt sturdy yet light in my grip. "Familiarize yourself with this. By the time you leave, I want to see progress." "Yes, sir," I said, gripping the hilt firmly. This was my chance to prove myself. The first two days were with Ivan, and as expected, his methods were meticulous and demanding. On the first day, he focused on the basics. "Before you can fight, you need to understand the game¡¯s foundation," he said, leading me to a quiet area away from the main camp. He showed me how to summon money, explaining the economy of the game, and broke down the mechanics of special and ultimate moves. "These aren¡¯t just flashy attacks," he said, holding up a card with a glowing blue droplet. "They¡¯re tools. Learn when to use them¡ªand more importantly, when not to." He quizzed me relentlessly on class types and their interactions, using flashcards with symbols that I quickly learned to recognize. "What¡¯s this?" he asked, holding up the card with the water symbol. "That¡¯s water!" I shouted confidently. "It¡¯s strong against fire and ground but weak to grass and electric!" "Good," Ivan replied with a nod. "But don¡¯t forget: type advantage isn¡¯t everything. The player matters just as much as the class." By the end of the first day, my head swam with information, but I felt a strange satisfaction. Ivan¡¯s teaching style was strict, but his focus on strategy made me feel sharper, more prepared. The second day shifted to combat strategy. Ivan taught me how to read an opponent¡¯s movements, anticipate their attacks, and find opportunities to counter. We sparred in the afternoon, with him using water-based abilities to test my reactions. The way he controlled the water was mesmerizing¡ªstreams of it twisted and darted around me like living serpents, making it nearly impossible to get close. "Come on!" he called, his voice sharp. "Think outside the box!" I tried everything¡ªfeints, rushes, even desperate lunges¡ªbut nothing worked. The water seemed to have a mind of its own, batting me away at every turn. Though I failed to land a hit, Ivan pointed out that my stamina and movement had improved. By the end of the day, I¡¯d leveled up to Level 2¡ªa small but meaningful victory. The third day brought me to Rodrick, and the contrast couldn¡¯t have been starker. Where Ivan was precise and methodical, Rodrick¡¯s approach was raw, intense, and utterly exhausting. "Hand-to-hand combat," Rodrick announced with a grin as we stood in a dusty training pit. "Because sometimes, you¡¯re gonna lose your weapon. And when that happens, you¡¯ll need these." He held up his fists, his grin widening. "Ready?" I barely had time to nod before he lunged, his fists flying. For hours, we sparred under the unforgiving sun. Rodrick¡¯s strikes were relentless, each one a test of my reflexes and endurance. "Get up!" he barked whenever I fell, his voice ringing in my ears. "You think the Demon Army¡¯s gonna wait for you to catch your breath?" By the end of the first day, I was drenched in sweat, my muscles screaming in protest. Rodrick, meanwhile, looked as fresh as ever. He patted me on the back with a laugh. "Not bad for a first-timer. But tomorrow, you¡¯d better bring your A-game." The second day was even more grueling. Rodrick pushed me harder, his speed and strength a constant reminder of how far I had to go. But I refused to quit. I studied his movements, learned his patterns, and by the afternoon, I managed to land a grazing hit on his cheek. Rodrick froze, his hand brushing the faint mark. For a moment, I thought I¡¯d made a mistake. But then he broke into a wide grin. "Well, I¡¯ll be damned," he said, laughing. "You actually got me." The acknowledgment felt like a trophy¡ªa sign that my efforts were paying off. "Don¡¯t let it go to your head, though," he added, ruffling my non-existent hair playfully. "You¡¯ve still got a long way to go." Despite the exhaustion, I couldn¡¯t help but smile. Training with Ivan and Rodrick had shown me two very different sides of what it meant to be an Endeavor. And while I still had miles to go, I felt a spark of confidence I hadn¡¯t had before. Learning under Strider and sparring with Elaine. Strider was next. For the first time, I saw him without his dragon armor, and he was¡­ unexpected. Without the intimidating armor and massive scythe, he looked like an ordinary guy¡ªwell, an ordinary guy who could bench-press a mountain. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, dressed in simple black clothing. His long, jet-black hair flowed loosely, adding an almost regal air to his otherwise casual demeanor. He had a kind of effortless confidence, his warm smile making him seem approachable. It was a stark contrast to Bruce. While Bruce radiated an aura of constant danger, like he could kill you with a glance, Strider¡¯s energy was entirely different. He looked like the kind of guy who¡¯d tease you mercilessly but have your back in a heartbeat. "Alright, Lance," Strider said, stretching his arms as he moved into the clearing. "Get ready to witness some real badassery." His grin widened mischievously. Before I could ask what he meant, he raised his arms dramatically and shouted, "Dragon Burst!" The transformation was instantaneous. His sleek black armor materialized out of nowhere, fitting perfectly to his muscular frame. The dragon-themed design glinted brilliantly in the sunlight, with sharp, angular edges that made him look fierce and imposing. Then, with a smooth motion, he held out his hand, and his massive scythe appeared, materializing like it had been summoned from another dimension. It was¡­ awe-inspiring. "Alright, bro," Strider said, twirling the scythe effortlessly in one hand. "Time for some reflex training. Don¡¯t blame me if I go a little rough on ya!" His grin widened, a playful yet intimidating edge to his voice. Before I could respond, he charged. The training was relentless. Strider¡¯s goal was simple: hone my reflexes and teach me to dodge. But putting that into practice? It was like trying to outrun lightning. His movements were blindingly fast, his scythe a blur of silver and black as it swung toward me again and again. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn¡¯t seem to keep up. Every dodge felt like pure luck, and more often than not, I ended up sprawled on the ground, gasping for air. "Come on, Lance!" Strider called out, his voice teasing but encouraging. "You gotta move like your life depends on it! Because one day, it will." By the end of the first day, I was utterly exhausted. Every muscle in my body ached, and my mind was fried from trying to anticipate Strider¡¯s unpredictable attacks. He, of course, looked like he could keep going for hours. "Not bad for a first try," he said with a grin as I collapsed onto the ground. "You didn¡¯t die! That¡¯s progress!"
The next day, the intensity only ramped up. Strider continued his relentless assault, forcing me to dodge, weave, and think on my feet. At first, it felt hopeless¡ªhis speed and precision were overwhelming. But slowly, something started to click. My movements became more fluid, my reactions faster. I could feel my body adapting, learning to move in ways I hadn¡¯t thought possible. Between training sessions, I started noticing something else about Strider. He was¡­ flamboyant. And by the end of the day, it became clear¡ªStrider was gay, and he wasn¡¯t shy about it. At first, it was subtle: the way he¡¯d wink at me after landing a particularly hard hit, or the exaggerated way he¡¯d flex whenever he took his armor off. But by the end of the day, it was impossible to miss. He¡¯d throw in playful, flirtatious comments that left me flustered and unsure how to respond. "Nice dodge, bro," he said after one particularly close call, flashing me a grin that practically sparkled. "If you keep this up, I might just let you buy me dinner." I stumbled over my words, trying to think of a reply, but he just laughed. "Relax, bro. I¡¯m just messing with you!" Despite my initial discomfort, I couldn¡¯t help but admire him. Strider was unapologetically himself¡ªbold, confident, and endlessly supportive. By the end of the day, his constant use of "bro" had rubbed off on me, and I found myself calling him the same.
That night, we lay in our sleeping bags under the open sky. The stars stretched endlessly above us, their light shimmering against the inky darkness. The camp was quiet, the only sound the faint crackle of a nearby fire. Strider lay beside me, his hands behind his head as he gazed up at the sky, a peaceful smile on his face. "Hey, bro," I said, breaking the silence. "Yeah?" he replied, his voice relaxed. "How did you come to know the Cardinals?" I asked. Strider wasn¡¯t just strong¡ªhe was someone I looked up to. His strength, his loyalty, and his unshakable confidence made me want to know more about him. Strider¡¯s smile faded slightly, replaced by a distant look. A long silence followed before he finally spoke. "Back in my early days as a player," he began, his voice quieter than usual, "I was¡­ nobody. Weak. So weak that nobody wanted me on their team." He paused, his gaze fixed on the stars. "The only teammates I had were people I met online. We came into this world together, but¡­ they didn¡¯t last long. We were hunted down by other players." He glanced at me, his expression heavy. "You probably know this already, but killing players in the field gives you double XP. And if you die here¡­ you¡¯re gone." I nodded, my chest tightening at the thought. Ivan had explained the risks to me, but hearing it from Strider, who had lived it, made it feel far more real. "I hit rock bottom," Strider continued. "I¡¯d lost my team, my confidence¡ªeverything. That¡¯s when I met Dante. Back then, the Cardinals weren¡¯t the army they are now. They were just a small group, trying to build something bigger. Dante saw something in me, even when I couldn¡¯t see it myself. He said I had untapped potential and took me under his wing." A small smile returned to his face. "That¡¯s when I unlocked my ability¡ªDragon Burst. It changed everything. Dante gave me a purpose, and I¡¯ve been loyal to him ever since. He didn¡¯t just save me; he believed in me. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, part of the Seven Endeavors." For a moment, his voice trailed off, and I could sense the pain beneath his words. Whatever Strider had gone through, it had left scars. But he didn¡¯t dwell on it. Instead, he turned to me with his signature grin, his eyes sparkling. "But don¡¯t worry, bro," he said, his voice playful again. "I¡¯m strong now. I can protect you." He gave me a wink, his teeth practically sparkling in the moonlight. My face heated up, and I quickly turned away, pulling my sleeping bag over my head. "Go-good night!" I stammered, my voice muffled. Behind me, I heard him chuckle. "Good night, bro." As I lay there, my embarrassment slowly faded, replaced by a sense of gratitude. Strider was unlike anyone I¡¯d ever met¡ªflamboyant, fierce, and deeply loyal. And as I closed my eyes, the last thought that crossed my mind was how lucky I was to have someone like him watching my back. - The following day - The morning air was crisp, the faint chill biting at my skin as I stepped onto the training grounds. My body ached with every movement, a lingering reminder of the relentless training I¡¯d endured under Strider. But this was different. Today, my teacher was Elaine. As I approached, my grip tightened instinctively around my sword. Memories of our first encounter flashed through my mind¡ªher speed, her precision, and the cold efficiency with which she had dismantled me. My chest tightened as I remembered the weight of her strikes, the sharpness of her gaze. I was stronger now, but was it enough? Elaine stood waiting, her katana sheathed but ready. She didn¡¯t need to say anything¡ªher presence alone commanded my attention. Dressed in her usual black attire, her purple eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made me want to look away. There was no smile, no greeting¡ªjust silence as she assessed me. "You¡¯re late," she said finally, her voice calm but firm. I flinched. "S-Sorry," I stammered, rushing to take my place in front of her. Elaine drew her katana¡ªnot the blade, but the scabbard itself. She held it lightly, almost casually, but there was no mistaking the control in her grip. She raised it to her side, the motion fluid and deliberate. "Today, we focus on swordsmanship," she said simply. "Show me what you¡¯ve learned." I nodded, gripping my sword tightly. "I¡¯m ready." From the first clash, it was clear how much I still had to learn. Elaine moved like a shadow, her strikes swift and deliberate. Her scabbard hit with the precision of a blade, targeting weak points with uncanny accuracy. Every time I raised my sword to block, she found an opening. Every time I swung, she countered effortlessly. "Your stance is unbalanced," she said, deflecting my blade with a flick of her wrist. "If I can predict your movements, so can your enemy." I gritted my teeth, adjusting my footing as I launched another attack. Her counter was immediate¡ªa sharp blow to my shoulder that sent me stumbling back. "Again," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. The training was brutal. Elaine didn¡¯t hold back, her strikes unrelenting as she pushed me to my limits. Every swing of her scabbard felt like a hammer blow, and though the weapon wasn¡¯t sharp, the pain was all too real. My hands began to tremble from the repeated impacts, my arms growing heavier with each strike. "You¡¯re hesitating," she said sharply as I faltered. "A sword is not just a weapon¡ªit¡¯s an extension of your body. If you hesitate, even for a second, you¡¯re already dead." Her words stung, but they were true. I gripped my sword tighter, forcing myself to focus. The next time she struck, I parried, the clash of our weapons ringing out across the clearing. For a brief moment, I saw a flicker of acknowledgment in her eyes. "Better," she said quietly.
As the hours dragged on, the pain in my arms became unbearable. My grip on the sword weakened, and every movement sent sharp jolts through my body. Finally, Elaine stepped back, lowering her scabbard. "That¡¯s enough for today," she said, her gaze lingering on my trembling hands. "You¡¯re at your limit." "No," I said quickly, cutting her off. My voice was raw, but my resolve was firm. "I want to keep going." Elaine raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "You¡¯re pushing yourself too far. There¡¯s no point in training if you can¡¯t even hold your weapon." "I don¡¯t care," I shot back, gripping my sword with all the strength I had left. "I need to get stronger. My time with you is limited, and I¡¯m not wasting it." For a moment, she said nothing, her piercing gaze boring into me. I half-expected her to refuse, to tell me I was being foolish. Instead, she raised her scabbard again, her stance shifting slightly. "Very well," she said, her voice steady. "But don¡¯t expect me to go easy on you."
We trained until the sun dipped below the horizon, the clearing bathed in the soft orange glow of twilight. Every part of me screamed in protest, but I didn¡¯t stop. Elaine¡¯s strikes came faster, her movements sharper, and each one forced me to push harder than I thought possible. By the time she finally lowered her scabbard, I was barely standing. My body was bruised and battered, my hands raw from gripping my sword for so long. I collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air, but a strange sense of satisfaction filled me. "You¡¯ve improved," Elaine said, her voice calm as always. She didn¡¯t smile, didn¡¯t offer any praise¡ªjust a simple acknowledgment. But coming from her, it felt like the highest compliment. As I lay there, staring up at the stars, I felt a spark of hope. I wasn¡¯t there yet¡ªnot by a long shot¡ªbut for the first time, I felt like I was getting closer.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The morning air was heavier than the day before, the sky overcast as I arrived at the training grounds. My body ached with every step, yesterday¡¯s brutal session still fresh in my muscles. But I couldn¡¯t stop now. I was stronger¡ªLevel 5¡ªand today¡¯s training promised to push me even further. Elaine stood waiting in the clearing, her posture as composed as ever. Her katana rested at her side, and her purple eyes met mine with their usual piercing intensity. Something about her gaze made my stomach twist¡ªit was as if she already knew exactly how today would end. "Today, we¡¯re doing something different," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet. Before I could respond, she raised her katana high, her tone firm and commanding as she called out, "Duel Multiplication." Two identical versions of Elaine shimmered into existence beside her. They moved in perfect unison, stepping forward as though controlled by invisible strings. For a moment, I just stared, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. They were flawless copies, down to the smallest detail¡ªtheir expressions, their stance, even the faint sway of their hair in the breeze. "This one," Elaine said, gesturing to the first clone, "is Level 11. And this one"¡ªshe pointed to the second¡ª"is Level 5." She explained it calmly, as though describing a simple mechanic. "This ability allows me to create clones at half my level. The first clone is half of me, and the next is half of that. It¡¯s versatile¡ªuseful for combat, distractions, or defense." I nodded, my grip tightening on my sword. "That¡¯s¡­ incredible." Elaine walked up to the Level 11 clone and placed a hand on its shoulder. Without a word, it dissolved into dust, leaving only the Level 5 clone standing. "We don¡¯t need this one," she said simply, turning back to the remaining clone. "Today, she will be your opponent." The clone stepped forward, its movements mechanical and detached. It drew its katana in one smooth motion, adopting the same perfect stance as Elaine. "This will be a deathmatch," Elaine said, her tone unyielding. "Give it everything you¡¯ve got. Don¡¯t hold back because she¡¯s me or because she¡¯s a girl. She won¡¯t hold back, either. She¡¯s here to kill you." I hesitated for a moment, studying the clone. Something about it felt¡­ wrong. Its eyes were cold, unblinking, devoid of the intensity and presence that made Elaine so imposing. It was like staring at a mannequin brought to life¡ªunnerving in its lifelessness. "Understood," I said finally, raising my sword. The clone moved first, its katana slicing through the air with precision. I barely managed to block, the force of the impact rattling my arms. She pressed the attack immediately, her strikes relentless and unyielding. For every swing I parried, another followed, each one perfectly timed and calculated. Unlike Elaine, who radiated purpose and intent with every move, the clone fought like a machine¡ªcold, efficient, and emotionless. There was no hesitation, no pause for thought. Just action. The battle dragged on through the morning, the sound of clashing blades ringing out across the clearing. I could feel the strain in my muscles growing with each exchange. Though the clone was slower and less refined than Elaine herself, its sheer persistence was overwhelming.
By midday, the fight had become a brutal test of endurance. My movements were slower, my strikes less precise as exhaustion set in. The clone, however, showed no signs of fatigue. Its attacks came with the same mechanical precision as when we¡¯d started. "How long is this supposed to last?" I muttered under my breath, sweat dripping into my eyes as I parried another strike. Elaine, who stood observing from a distance, gave no response. Her expression remained unreadable, her arms crossed as she watched in silence.
By late afternoon, I felt like I was fighting a losing battle. My hands were blistered, my legs heavy, and every breath felt like it might be my last. The clone pressed its advantage, its katana slicing closer and closer with each strike. "Gotcha!" I shouted desperately, spotting an opening. I lunged forward, aiming to land a decisive blow. But then the clone¡¯s voice rang out, cold and detached: "Sonic Boom." It was the first time it had spoken, and the sound made me freeze. For a split second, I stared in shock¡ªuntil the clone¡¯s speed exploded. It moved like a blur, its katana grazing my side before I could react. Blood seeped from the cut, and I stumbled back, my heart pounding in my chest. "You¡­ can talk?" I managed to say, still trying to process what had just happened. "My ability," the clone said, its voice devoid of emotion. "It allows me to move fifty times faster than my normal speed. Perfect for catching opponents off guard." The monotone delivery sent a chill down my spine. It was as if I were fighting a hollow shell that had just enough awareness to kill me. The clone attacked again, using Sonic Boom repeatedly. Each time, it closed the gap in an instant, its katana grazing my arms, my legs, my sides. My body screamed in protest, blood dripping from countless shallow cuts. My movements became desperate, each dodge a near miss. By dusk, the battle felt endless. The clone¡¯s ability had turned the tide completely. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how well I anticipated its moves, the sheer speed of Sonic Boom left me defenseless. The stakes were real¡ªif I failed to dodge even once, it would be game over. But then an idea struck me. The clone was faster than me, but I was stronger, more skilled. I just needed to think smarter. The clone rushed at me again, its katana poised to strike. The moment it activated Sonic Boom, I ducked low and slid forward, its blade narrowly missing my head. My hat¡¯s front brim was sliced clean off, but I didn¡¯t stop. Slamming my foot into the ground, I pivoted sharply, using my sword to stabilize myself. The clone noticed too late. I swung with all the strength I had left, aiming for its katana. My blade connected with hers, the impact sending her weapon flying. Without hesitation, I tackled her to the ground, pinning her beneath me. With my last burst of energy, I drove my sword into the ground near her throat. "Pant¡­ pant¡­ I¡­ win," I said, my voice ragged. The clone¡¯s cold expression softened slightly. Her lips curved into a faint, almost hesitant smile, and for the first time, she looked¡­ human. "Looks like you did," she said, her voice no longer monotone. There was warmth in her tone, a flicker of something genuine that caught me off guard. For a moment, I forgot she was a clone. She sounded so real. She relaxed beneath me, the tension in her body easing as if the fight had been as grueling for her as it was for me. "You¡¯re improving," she added softly. "Elaine will be pleased." The clone¡¯s soft smile caught me off guard. For a moment, the lifelessness that had defined it throughout the battle vanished, replaced by a quiet warmth. "Well done," she said, her tone now carrying a surprising humanity. "You¡¯ve passed my test." Seeing her smile¡ªso much like Elaine¡¯s¡ªbrought an involuntary grin to my own face. I couldn¡¯t help it. Despite the grueling battle, the acknowledgment felt¡­ good. And for the first time, I felt like I¡¯d earned it. At the same moment, we both started laughing, the tension of the fight dissolving into the air. It wasn¡¯t just relief¡ªit was the strange camaraderie that came from shared hardship, even if one of us wasn¡¯t real. "What now?" I asked, still catching my breath. The clone stood, brushing off her hands. "There¡¯s not much more to do. Just go to Elaine and show her you passed the test." She paused, her eyes glinting playfully. "She¡¯ll be pleased." I pushed myself to my feet, wobbling slightly. My legs felt like jelly, but I managed to stay upright. Offering my hand, I helped her up, and she took it without hesitation. "Where is she?" I asked, glancing toward the edge of the clearing. "Oh, she¡¯s probably peeping on Bruce," the clone said cheerfully, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. I blinked. "She what?" I turned back to her, but she was gone. I looked around, confused, but there was no sign of her. It was as if she¡¯d dissolved into the wind. Alone now, I let out a shaky breath. For all the exhaustion weighing on me, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a swell of pride. That had been my first real victory. Thanks, Elaine.
I wandered through the forest, searching for the real Elaine. It didn¡¯t take long to find her¡ªher familiar figure was hunched behind a tree, her back turned to me. At first, I thought she might be meditating or lost in thought. But as I approached quietly, I noticed something unusual: the tips of her ears were red. Curious, I leaned around the tree to see what had her so flustered. That¡¯s when I saw it. Elaine, the stoic and commanding swordswoman, was peeping at Bruce. She was carefully watching him from behind the tree, her gaze fixed on him as he practiced. Her face was bright red, and I could practically see the steam rising from her ears. The sight made my heart feel strangely warm. This was so unexpected, so cute. It seemed even the mighty Elaine had a softer side. "Aww," I whispered in a singsong voice, a teasing grin spreading across my face. "Look at this¡ªour little swordswoman has a crush on Brucey boy." Elaine froze, her entire body going rigid. She jumped like a startled cat, nearly letting out a shriek before I clamped my hand over her mouth. "Shhhh!" I hissed, trying to calm her down. "You¡¯re gonna expose us!" Her body stayed tense for a moment, but then she exhaled slowly and relaxed. As soon as I removed my hand, though, she punched me hard in the gut. "Urggghh!" I doubled over, clutching my stomach. "You asshole! Why¡¯d you scare me like that?" she snapped, her face still bright red. I coughed, trying to catch my breath. "Haha¡­ there you go again. Back to your usual serious side." She rolled her eyes, brushing past me. "Come on, let¡¯s go to the hospital," she said sharply, storming off into the forest. I straightened up and followed, still chuckling. "Don¡¯t worry, Elaine. I won¡¯t tell anyone." She glanced over her shoulder, her glare icy. "You¡¯d better not if you value your life." Even so, the redness on her cheeks hadn¡¯t faded entirely. As we walked, I decided to offer a gesture of goodwill. "If it makes you feel better," I began, "I¡¯ll tell you who I like as payback." Her posture didn¡¯t change, but her eyes flicked toward me, curiosity gleaming in their purple depths. "Go on," she said, her tone almost casual. "It¡¯s Claire," I admitted without hesitation. Elaine let out a small giggle, the corner of her lips curling into a smile. "Figures. The moment you saw her, you practically tripped over yourself. You¡¯ve been awkward and flustered around her ever since." "Hey," I protested weakly, though I couldn¡¯t deny it. "So," I pressed eagerly, "would you know if she has a boyfriend?" Elaine¡¯s smile widened, her teasing demeanor softening slightly. "Someone¡¯s excited. No, she doesn¡¯t have a boyfriend. Not for lack of trying, though. Plenty of guys have shot their shot." "So¡­ why doesn¡¯t she?" I asked, genuinely curious. Elaine¡¯s expression turned more serious, her gaze shifting forward. "It¡¯s not that simple," she said quietly. "Claire hates people. Especially men." Her words caught me off guard. "Why?" Elaine hesitated, then sighed. "She told me a little about it once, though I don¡¯t know the full story. When she was a kid, she had a best friend who had cancer. A group of boys did something awful¡ªsomething cruel and humiliating¡ªto her friend. Ever since then, she¡¯s seen men as¡­ pigs. She told me that all they care about is sex and a woman¡¯s body." Her tone grew heavier. "Her hatred was so intense that it started spilling over. She treated everyone the same, even other girls. It took a long time for her to trust me." My heart ached at the thought. "So that¡¯s why she is the way she is," I murmured. Elaine nodded, her voice softening. "But I don¡¯t think she¡¯s a bad person. I think the way she acts is a defense mechanism. Deep down, there¡¯s a gentler, kinder person hidden beneath all that anger. I¡¯ve seen glimpses of it." Her words brought me back to the moment Claire had smiled at her after their sparring session. That brief, genuine expression had stuck with me. I wanted to see it again¡ªto see that side of her. "I¡¯m going to win her heart," I said resolutely, my determination growing with every word. Elaine turned to me, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. Then she smiled, a warmth in her expression I hadn¡¯t seen before. "Good luck, Lance. You¡¯re going to need it." Her encouragement caught me off guard. I¡¯d expected her to warn me off, to say Claire wasn¡¯t worth the effort. Instead, she seemed¡­ hopeful. "To be honest," Elaine continued, "I think the only way Claire will let go of her hatred is if someone proves her wrong. If you can do that¡ªif you can show her there¡¯s more to people than what she¡¯s seen¡ªmaybe you can help her heal." Her words filled me with a new sense of purpose. Elaine wasn¡¯t just on my side¡ªshe believed in me. And for the first time, I began to believe in myself.
We arrived at the hospital, where the healers quickly patched up my wounds. It took an hour to recover fully, and we spent the rest of the day resting. Despite the grueling battles and bruised egos, I felt a sense of peace I hadn¡¯t expected. Through our shared confessions, Elaine and I had come to understand each other better. She wasn¡¯t just my tutor or my opponent¡ªshe was my friend. And as we sat beneath the fading light of dusk, I realized just how much I valued that bond. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the training grounds in deep orange hues, I said my goodbyes to Elaine. Despite her usual stoic demeanor, there was a hint of warmth in her eyes as she nodded and turned to leave. "See you around," I said, my voice steady, though my body ached from the grueling training. Logging out of the game, I was greeted by the familiar glow of the real world. The clock on my desk read 4 PM, and my stomach growled loudly, reminding me of priorities outside of swordplay and survival. I spent the next hour eating, showering, and taking a moment to breathe. It was tempting to collapse onto my bed and call it a night, but as I stretched and glanced at the clock again, a thought hit me. It¡¯s only 5 PM. The realization settled in. If I went back into the game now, I¡¯d have several hours to spare. Several hours here meant several days there. It was an opportunity I couldn¡¯t waste¡ªnot when I was so close to leveling up, another step closer to being on equal footing with the Seven Endeavors. Grinning, I booted up the game. "Just a little more training," I muttered to myself as the portal opened, pulling me back into the world of A Warrior¡¯s Kingdom.