Dawnstead Village was no longer a quiet starter zone.
By midday, it was chaos.
The plaza buzzed with energy — players shouting trade deals, scrambling over quest boards, or bartering furiously with merchants for last-minute gear upgrades.
Makeshift stalls lined the streets where simple shops had stood just days before, hawking potions, weapons, scraps of armor — anything that could give an edge.
The air smelled of sweat, cheap oil, and the faint metallic tang of sharpened steel.
It wasn't just a game anymore.
It was a rush.
A scramble.
Everyone could feel it.
The Wilderness was coming.
And with it, a new world.
We sat tucked into a corner booth inside the Broken Lantern Tavern — a squat, smoke-stained building wedged between two gear shops.
It was quieter here, insulated from the worst of the shouting outside.
Rayne nursed a pint of something that looked suspiciously close to motor oil, spinning a dagger idly between his fingers.
Tessa leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her spear resting nearby.
Kale sat stiffly, his newly healed arm in a fresh leather brace.
And me?
I stared into a bowl of greasy stew, pretending to eat while my mind worked.
This life already felt different.
Not just because we were stronger.
Not just because we were winning.
Because we were thinking.
Building something real, not just chasing numbers like last time.
"Twenty-four hours," Rayne said, breaking the silence. "Then it's open season."
He grinned.
"The way I see it, we stake a claim early. Pick a fort. Start building our territory."
Tessa shook her head.
"Too risky. We don't even know what kinds of guilds are moving in yet."
She tilted her head toward the door, where muffled shouting filtered through the wood.
"Listen to them. Half those players are desperate. They'll jump at anything that promises safety."
Rayne shrugged, unbothered.
"All the better. Pick up some numbers, move fast, hit hard."
"Numbers aren't the same as strength," Kale said quietly.
Tessa nodded.
"Exactly."
I stayed quiet, letting them speak.
Thinking.
Rayne wasn't wrong — aggression early could mean momentum.
But it could also mean overextending, burning out, getting crushed the moment real competition arrived.
And Tessa was right too — but being too cautious meant falling behind, letting others set the rules before we even moved.
I didn't want to be reckless.
And I didn't want to be passive.
I wanted to build smart.
Strategic.
Permanent.
In my last life, I'd seen what happened to players who moved too fast or too slow.
They disappeared.
Footnotes in someone else's story.
Not this time.
Outside, a new voice rose above the rest.
"JOIN THE IRON STRIDE! GUARANTEED FIRST FORT CLAIM!"
Another followed it:
"BLACKTHORN RECRUITING! FULL GEAR SETS PROVIDED!"
I stood slowly, pushing my untouched stew aside.
Tessa glanced up.
"Where are you going?"
I adjusted the straps on my sword belt.
"Outside."
They followed without question.
The plaza was packed.
Players clustered around hastily erected boards, covered in parchment fliers.
Some advertised specific dungeons.
Others promised "exclusive starter gear" for new recruits.
Most were just desperate scribbles — half-lies and empty boasts from groups that would probably fold within the first week.
I watched the swirl of movement for a long moment.
Felt the pull of it.
The panic.
The greed.
The ambition.
It would be so easy to dive in — to sign with one of the early guilds, get a guaranteed spot, safer gear, backup in the Wilderness.
Safe.
Predictable.
Easy.
But also...
Short-sighted.
I turned to the others.
"No."
Tessa arched an eyebrow.
"No?"
"We're not joining them," I said. "Not now. Maybe not ever."
Rayne frowned.
"Then what?"
I smiled faintly.
"We build something of our own."
For a moment, none of them spoke.
A bard in the plaza struck up a shaky tune, trying to drown out the noise of haggling players.
Tessa was the first to nod.
"You'll need more than just ambition," she said. "You'll need loyalty."
"We already have that," Kale said simply.
Rayne grinned, clapping me on the shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah. And hey — building our own empire sounds a hell of a lot cooler anyway."
I exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from my shoulders.
This was the right path.
Harder.
Riskier.
But real.
Built on trust and planning, not desperation and fear.
We wouldn't be the biggest guild overnight.
We might not even survive the first month.
But if we did?
If we grew?
We wouldn't just survive.
We'd dominate.
On our terms.
The SYSTEM chimed softly in the background.
[Wilderness Unlock Countdown: 24:00:00]
Full PvP Zones Active Upon Unlock. Guild Territory Wars Enable Upon Unlock. Fortresses, Resource Nodes, and Rare Dungeons will become Claimable.
A low, heavy tension settled over the plaza as players read the update.
Some cheered.
Others cursed.
More than a few immediately began pulling friends aside, whispering urgently.
Everyone knew.
The world was about to change.
Forever.
We moved to the edge of the plaza, sitting on a crumbling low wall overlooking the western fields.
The sun was setting, streaking the sky in deep gold and blood-red.
Out there, beyond the hills, the Wilderness waited.
A place where there were no safe zones.
No moderators.
No second chances.
Only skill, strength, and strategy.
And death.
Rayne tossed a stone across the dirt, watching it skip once before rolling to a stop.
"You think we're ready?"
"No," I said honestly.
Tessa smiled faintly.
"But we will be," Kale added.
I stared out at the darkening horizon.
At the fields where someday, if we survived, we'd plant the banners of something we built ourselves.
Real ambition.
Real legacy.
This time, no shortcuts.
No begging for scraps at someone else's table.
This time, we'd forge our own.
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of distant smoke and the wild promise of battle.
I tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword.
Not because I was afraid.
Because I was ready.
Really ready.
For the first time in both my lives.