The sun was just beginning to rise over Erisport, casting a warm, golden gloss across the cobbled streets. Merchants pulled open their stalls with a clatter of wood and cloth. The scent of fresh bread and roasting meat drifted lazily through the morning air.
Yet today, something felt different.
In the heart of the city, the Grand Plaza overflowed with people.
Word had spread faster than wildfire—
A bard stood atop a wooden platform, his lute slung over his back. Voice cutting clean through the murmur of the crowd.
"Hear ye, hear ye! The Dragon Lord, scourge of flame and terror, has fallen! Slain by a figure unknown, yet mighty beyond measure!" His words flew out into the morning air, each syllable snapping with energy.
The crowd surged closer, their faces a blur of disbelief, awe, and frantic curiosity.
Among them stood a tall man, the lines of countless battles etched into his weathered face. His armor, dented and worn, bore silent testimony to the life he lived. Beside him, a younger woman, her eyes bright with fire, listened intently.
"This changes everything, Elise," the man murmured as he leaned forward ever slightly. "We've lived in his shadow for years... Now, maybe we carve out a path of our own."
Elise nodded, her fingers tightening around the hilt at her waist. "If the Dragon Lord can fall... so can the others."
The man gave a humorless chuckle. "System users aren't invincible. Whoever dropped the Dragon Lord has the guts, or madness, to challenge that fate."
"The curse..." Elise whispered. "So it wasn't just a pact between them. The fear was real."
"Fear, a pact... doesn't matter anymore," he replied.
"Someone just broke the first and most important rule."
A stir rippled through the crowd as a messenger in royal suit shoved his way forward. His face flushed, breath coming in hard gasps. He handed a sealed scroll to the bard, who cracked it open and read aloud, voice ringing through the plaza.
His flat smile turned into a full-blown arc.
"By decree of King Alistair: The Dragon Lord's defeat marks the dawn of a new era! Erisport is free!"
A cheer erupted, crashing over the plaza like a tidal wave.
Hats flew into the air. Strangers embraced.
In a single moment, hope replaced fear.
But while Erisport celebrated, the ripples of change raced across the land.
In Lumina, the city of spires and shining streets, the news slammed into royal courts like a hammer.
Inside the palace, Queen Seraphina stood at the heart of a gathering storm. Advisors pressed closer, voices rising in a tangled mess of panic and excitement.
She raised a single hand. Silence fell.
"An opportunity opened for us," Seraphina said, her voice calm.
A mage in crimson robes stepped forward, bowing. "Queen Seraphina, our forces report the system user is unknown. And his abilities are unlike anything we've seen."
The Queen's lips tightened into a small, unreadable smile. "Good. Double our surveillance."
She turned toward the towering windows, her reflection caught against the glass as sunlight poured in.
"And prepare everyone," she said quietly. "The game has changed. We must be ready."
Far across the continent, in the port city of Drakhar, the same news stirred darker currents.
In the shadows of a tavern, where the air reeked of spilled ale and old smoke, a rough-looking man leaned across a battered table.
"So, the Dragon Lord's dead," he muttered, voice low and grim. "Bren, what's your take?"
Across from him, a woman with cold, sharp eyes and a mouth that rarely smiled, set her mug down with a soft thud.
"It means the world's about to get a lot more dangerous," she said flatly. "Whoever killed him isn't the type you cross lightly."
The man's fingers drummed against the wood. "Without the Dragon Lord's arrangements, moving product gets a hell of a lot riskier."
Bren nodded. "We lay low. The smart ones will survive."
All around the tavern, quiet agreements passed between shadowed faces.
Meanwhile, in a quiet village tucked between forgotten hills, the news traveled not by messenger or bard, but by the excited shout of a young boy.
"Grandma, Grandma!" he cried, bursting into the room, his face glowing. "The Dragon Lord's gone!"
An elderly woman looked up from her weaving, the lines around her eyes softening into a knowing smile.
"Yes, my little warrior," she said, setting aside her work.
"The world stirs again. Adventures await. But remember this..."
She tapped his chest gently.
"True strength doesn't come from power. It comes from here, and here." She touched his forehead next.
The boy nodded solemnly, the spark of dreams already dancing behind his wide eyes.
And elsewhere still, the world darkened.
In the twisted alleys of Burg, a lone woman in a black robe stood frozen, the conversation she'd overheard rooting her in place.
A wicked grin split her face.
Her hands clenched at her sides. Her full tail wagging briskly.
"I can finally get her back," she whispered to the empty street.
The weight of years of pain and longing poured into that single breath.
She imagined chains snapping, her sister's broken spirit restored, and a new world burning behind them.
"That system user..." A sound that was half-laugh, half-sob escaped her lips. "All these years... the pain she's suffered... it will finally end."
The laughter bubbled up from her chest—wild and sharp.
It spilled into the night, bouncing off the narrow stone walls. Nearby, cats startled from the trash piles, scattering like shadows under the weight of her hysteria.
The world had turned a page.
And everyone, from kings to tavern rats, from dreamers to madwomen, would be caught in the story that followed.