Seraphina's Perspective:
Dreams.
Humanity craves a savior, yet it often needs a villain, someone to hate, to focus all its will and power. And when that hatred is satisfied, when salvation comes, they beg.
They beg with open hands and empty promises. They ask for mercy when they bleed, for unity when they lose. They call for rescue when the fire reaches their doors, yet when someone truly tries to help, they turn away. They call it distance, someone else's problem.
Compassion exists only when convenient.
They refuse to act because they lack strength, because giving costs too much: time, comfort, pride. So humanity becomes skilled at suffering in public, selfish in private.
They want the world to carry them, yet they won't carry anyone back. They speak of kindness as law but treat it as a favor. They demand hands to pull them from the dark but never extend theirs in return. Their prayers are loud excuses. They want rescue without responsibility, salvation without sacrifice.
I used to be like that. I still have those awful dreams about that day. Maybe if things had been different, he wouldn't have died. Yet I feel no regret. I want to believe it wouldn't have been me who killed him, but the scars, the dreams, tell another story.
I look at my face, and all I see are reminders. That's why I hide it. I hate it.
The truth is simple. Humanity doesn't starve for help. It starves for accountability. They desire others to be good while they stay unchanged. They yearn for light but refuse to become it.
That's why I had to change. I had to become the light. So I would never rely on anyone for help again.
A few days have passed since the floor was unlocked. Adrian and his guild return to their usual routine, guiding people through the floors. I can't help but wonder what the summit is like.
The date approached. It almost feels unreal how fast time has passed.
Today is the day.
Saturday, December 1st, 2035.
I sit on my bed, the one that has served me well on this floor. I stare at the mirror. Black. My own face seems swallowed by shadow, hazy and unrecognizable. I can't even see myself anymore.
I'm sick of pretending. Sick of begging.
My room is clean. Books neatly arranged, clothes where they belong, a hamper for what needs cleaning. NPCs appear from time to time. We took over their city; it's only fair. We try to assimilate as many as possible, though NPCs are weak compared to players.
I look at my body, bruised and scarred. I'm lucky I can hide them from Rei. If she saw it, she would be upset.
A small crystal hangs at my neck, cuddled with string and silver. The remnants of the gem I was given. I remember that night. She was the first to save me, before Teruki could. She offered the little healing knowledge she had. Part of me believes that's why she added a healing effect to her ability.
My sniper leans against the wall. I finally had enough to give it a proper container, made from the highest-level materials currently attainable on the floors. I pick it up, too lazy to store it.
I leave my room and take the familiar elevator. The weapon rests in my hands. My eyes are tired, but I doubt anyone would notice.
Rei is the first thing I see as the morning light fills the room. She stands tall, her red and gold armor gleaming, katana at her side. She fidgets with it slightly, nervous. I never understood why she refused to use inventory magic or a storage space. Maybe she learned it them.
Crusaders.
"It's great to see you," she says. I tilt my head slightly and return the smile.
"You look tired," she observes. I nod.
"I'm nervous," she admits. I can tell. I say nothing, letting her continue.
"I'm worried what the other guilds will think of us. They already see us as player killers. What if Adrian's guild is angry at us?"
I know what she wants to ask before she does.
"With Calder dead, I did nothing. The video has grown more and more viral by the day, and yet I crave confirmation." I sit beside her, placing my hand gently on her head. She makes a small sound as I do.
I give her a sideways glance, and she smiles.
"To my knowledge, no one has reached the 12th floor yet." she says, "I'm not sure if I want to. I think it would be easy if I got stronger." I hear her crying softly, but I look at my gun. I never want to feel like that again.
"I'm a…"
RING.
A familiar chime from the elevator signals new arrivals. Rei burns her tears, the smoke odor evaporating quickly.
Teruki steps out next. She sketches as she moves, her movements deliberate. She's changed her outfit. She used to wear white and silver dresses, but now she opts for light silver armor. Her hair shines silver-blue, and she smells faintly of apricots. It makes sense. A small katana rests at her right hip, and a hunting rifle hangs at her side.
I wonder if the change is due to the boss, whether she really wanted to change. Like I did.
Not just her, all of us did.
I rarely see her with her gun, but given the times, it's necessary to show our strength. I silently wonder why replicating her weapon is so difficult.
Teruki smiles at us.
"Why are you on the floor?" she almost laughs.
"Sho made it way too early," Rei complains as she stands.
"Unfortunately," Teruki begins, "I woke Viri and Eli, but they seemed upset."
"Everyone has to go, unfortunately," Rei sighs. "I wonder how guilds with hundreds of players stay organized."
"You mean RG?"
"Yeah," Teruki says. "Ascend too."
"Sho probably made it so bigger guilds can only bring their most important members."
"Makes sense. Did she tell you anything?"
"Fortunately not," Rei says. "Since ours is small, we had no reason to know."
Rei groans and cracks her back. "Is there anyone you're excited to see?" Teruki asks.
I stood up. Rei pauses for a moment, tapping the hilt of her katana, as she always does, though few people notice.
"I want to see the Black Cat members the most," she says.
"Why's that?" Teruki asks.
"I've heard so much about them and even seen them a few times, but I believe they skipped the last meeting."
Rei looks back at Teruki. "What about you? Who do you want to see?"
Teruki stumbles for a moment, thinking of everyone she knows who will be there. Guilds on top of guilds.
"I want to meet more Glassthorn members," she says, smiling.
RING.
The familiar sound of the elevator chime echoes again. This time, two people step out.
"You ready?" a voice asks.
Green hair. Viri smiles at us, pushing her fist into her palm. Out of everyone, Viri and Eli have changed their armor the most.
Viri wears dark green armor that hugs her frame, reinforced with black plated ridges along her shoulders and chest. The metal doesn't clank.
It moves with her.
Breathes with her.
At her side, a shotgun hangs, and the old shotgun tied to her back is now replaced with an axe.
Eli adjusts the collar of her new coat, studying her reflection in polished steel. Black leather fits close to her body, reinforced with sleek white plating across her collarbone and ribs. Thin yellow lines trace the seams, glowing faintly with stored mana. The coat splits at the back, allowing clean movement when she turns.
"Let's get this done," she smiles.
"Yeah," Eli seems to agree.
I look at my armor, almost completely unchanged. My white cape hides most of my figure.
"Haha," Viri laughs. "You're going to wear that stupid mask?"
I look back at her and tilt my head in confusion.
"I think what she's trying to say," Eli continues, "is that one's old. We should get you a different one."
I shake my head. "Definitely not. I like this one."
"Whatever you say, Snowflake," Eli teases.
I consider responding to her provocation but decide against it. I smile, though I know she can't see it. Her face flashes with annoyance, which fills me with happiness.
CRACK.
A red rune ignites.
A glow appears, and a familiar face steps out of it. Short grey hair. At first, I thought it wasn't Sho, but as the light faded, I finally saw him: red eyes and short grey hair.
"Mr. Sato," Rei smiles, stepping forward. He hangs back and smiles.
"You didn't have to come all the way here," Teruki says.
"I am your teleporter for today," he smiles. Then, slightly teasing, "I'll try to keep Sho in check for now. Why don't we just get to the floor?"
We all step onto the rune. I pick up my gun from the ground. Red light envelops us as we are transported.
CRACK
The light dissipates. We stand on the floor, surrounded by guilds to our right and left. Outside stretches a massive city. I remember this floor anyway.
Sho's guild has bought the entire floor and made it her base. Hundreds of NPCs simulate an economy, turning the city into a safe haven. Most of the floor is deforested, except for areas marked for preservation.
The sounds of guards, shouting, and instructions sting my ears.
The castle gate sits to our right.
The Crusaders' guild radiates power. They do not look at us, maintaining formality. I glance at Adrian. Seriousness etches his face. He seems angry, focused, and resolved.
He stares at someone. He stares at Valen.
Next to him, Shino sits quietly, twirling his hair. Watching him makes me uneasy.
Outside those gates, the strongest guilds in the tower gather.
Not together.
Never together.
They claim ground across the open fields. You know whose territory you stand in by the tension in the air. They all wait for Sho.
Ascend stands closest to the main road. One hundred players in blue and silver armor. Polished breastplates. Layered pauldrons shaped like wings. Long blue capes trimmed in silver. Weapons matched in design.
Straight blades.
Tower shields.
Lances aligned in clean rows.
They do not sit.
They do not wander.
They stand in formation.
At the front, Valen.
Long blue hair down his back. Eyes fixed on the city gates. Hands clasped behind him. Posture straight, calm but alert. He studies angles, measures distance, notes wind direction.
He prepares as if this meeting might shift into a siege without warning.
He does not waste words. His voice stays low and precise.
Beside him, Risto. Slimmer, lighter armor. Hair pulled back tight. Eyes scanning the other guilds. She tracks Black Cats on rooftops, counts Slayers without turning her head, and watches RG for sudden movement.
Her hand rests near her blade.
Ascend looks like discipline made flesh. They had recently updated their logo and it stood out. All their armour was adorned in it.
The logo features a tall, slender tower with a sharp point reaching upward. Several concentric rings and small dots surround the spire to create a celestial effect. Soft clouds sit at the base of the tower while stars and circular shapes fill the space behind it.
Across the broken stone bridge, Black Cats occupy shadow.
Two hundred members. Cloaks heavy and layered, hoods subtly shaped like cat ears. Leather absorbs light. Boots make no sound. Most blend together. Five do not.
Two wear gold-lined hoods. Elevated on a collapsed pillar, silent, radiating authority.
Two wear deep purple hoods, moving slightly, whispering to passing members.
One wears a pink hood. Smaller frame. Arms folded, leaning against a cracked wall. Still. Something about her feels wrong in a way you cannot name.
The rest spread across ruins, rooftops, and alley shadows. Some perch like birds. Others crouch low, blades hidden. They do not form lines. They form pressure. You feel watched from every direction.
Every member has a logo somewhere on the hood. The logo looks like a glyph or rune.
The logo consists of a crescent moon. Feathers or leaf-like shapes decorate the left side of the crescent.
Further out, the ten Slayers stand. Space between them. No formation needed.
They are killers who trust their own reach.
Pendant stands among them. Purple hair rests on her shoulders. A gold butterfly pin secures one side. Purple eyes steady. A gold cloak flows behind her. Rapier at her hip. She waits.
Near her, Jester. Green and purple hair split down the center. Teeth bared in a carved grin. Eyes dart between guilds, hungry for conflict. The Slayers do not talk. They are a verdict already decided.
To the right, Mana. Only six members. Clustered, speaking quietly.
Robes muted, etched with glowing mana script. Crystals float near wrists and shoulders.
Lyra stands in the center. Pink hair frames her face. Blue eyes sharp, analytical. She holds a thin tablet of condensed mana, glyphs shifting. On her robes I see a logo etched in.
A white geometric emblem with a thick ring at its center. Four symmetrical angled arms extend outward to form a diamond shape. Six smaller white stars sit in the empty spaces between the points of the diamond.
Her presence controls the group. Mana prepares contingencies. Counter spells. Barrier sequences. Mana drain patterns. Scholars forced onto a battlefield.
Beyond them, Glassthorn gathers with poise. Arthur at the front.
Arthur notices my gaze. She wears heavy plated armor over a white kimono. Lavender hair frames her face. Her violet eyes track my movement.
She grips a katana hilt with her gloved hand. A glowing ember burns at the end of the thin stick in her mouth. Gray smoke rises from her lips.
The metal plates on her shoulders catch the light. Intricate gold vine patterns cover her purple corset. On her left shoulder the GT guild logo.
The logo features a corked bottle entwined by a curving vine with several leaves. A thin circular frame encloses the bottle and part of the vine while small diamond accents mark the horizontal sides.
She carries multiple blades at her waist.
One is a katana with a golden hilt wrapped in green vines that mirror her armor.
One is a silver rapier with a dulled sheen, its scabbard scuffed and worn from long use.
One is a massive longsword held in a black sheath.
She smiles at me, smoke curling around her as she unsheathes the massive longsword and looks straight into my eyes.
It's forged from compressed crystal, once shattered in battle and sealed by a glowing golden glass seam down its center, faint fractures spread through the clear blade like frozen lightning.
She remains still. She waits for my first move.
Knights in pale armor. Duelists stretch quietly. Healers in pale cloaks wait in the rear.
Glassthorn looks ceremonial, as if they belong inside the city walls more than anyone here.
I look away, and she slides the blade back into its sheath.
Finally, RG. They cover the largest stretch of land. Thousands.
At least twenty-four hundred visible, more scattered across hills. No uniform. Weapons and armor vary wildly. Clusters sit around cookfires, gamble, argue. Some stand alert, watching like veterans among chaos.
Contracted fighters, mercenaries. Impulse rules them more than discipline.
Beyond them, Cog and Core. Two thousand members, mechanical precision. Rows measured, constructs stationed at intervals. Crystals glow.
At the center, an old silver-haired mage. White beard trimmed. Amber eyes warm but observant. White and gold robes etched with mystical symbols.
Engineers and battlemages adjust devices, calibrate floating mana arrays. Constructs still but ready. Cog and Core do not look emotional. They look optimized. Their log is impressive.
The logo consists of a silver mechanical emblem with three interlocking gears arranged in a triangle. Each gear features a central metallic sphere and sharp teeth. A circular frame with small rivets and layered rings encloses the emblem.
Tension thickens across the plains.
Ascend ready for order.
Black Cats breathe in the shadows.
Slayers wait for permission.
Mana prepares counters.
Glassthorn holds honor.
RG buzzes with unpredictability.
Cog and Core calculate outcomes.
Above all, Sho watches from the city walls.
Every guild waits for her decision.
"SILENCE!"
One word shifts balance.
One command redraws power across the entire field.