"My lord, please… something requires your attention, urgently." an unfamiliar voice said.
Kaquibe's mind went blank. His thoughts didn't just slow—they stalled, as if someone had pulled a cord inside his skull and drained the current. For a heartbeat he couldn't process anything beyond the sound itself.
Then panic tried to assemble a theory.
'Did another player invade?' he thought. 'How? Our Alliance defenses are insane.' he thought. 'Unless… unless the defenses vanished after midnight.' he thought. 'And why the hell did he call me my lord?' he thought.
Questions stacked so fast they blurred. Kaquibe moved before the fear could root him in place, striding toward the door with sudden urgency.
When he opened it, the figure outside dropped to one knee and lowered its head, waiting for Kaquibe's response.
Kaquibe recognized the silhouette immediately—because Arcadia had forced him to learn it during wars and sieges. It was an illithid: bald, skin like wet stone, a face too humanoid to be comfortable, with tentacles where a beard should be. It wore a black mantle with gold details along the back, and stamped across it was the Alliance sigil—the winged skull with a red cross behind it. Leather boots. Leather gloves. Every detail rendered with that disturbingly vivid realism Arcadia was famous for.
But what shook Kaquibe wasn't the model.
It was the behavior.
Ignar, the Castle Strategist—one of the Castle Guardians. In battle, he was the second authority on the field beneath any Alliance member, designed to organize battalions, propose formations, and execute strategies. Outside combat, he served as a counselor for long-term plans.
A high-tier NPC.
An NPC that wasn't supposed to look anxious.
Even kneeling with his head lowered, Ignar's agitation was obvious in the tension of his shoulders and the way his breathing seemed… real.
Kaquibe's confusion deepened into something colder.
'NPCs don't do this.' he thought. 'Not like this.' he thought.
Ignar waited, as if truly expecting judgment. Kaquibe was still lost in the storm inside his head when the illithid spoke again, trying to pull him back.
"My lord—" Ignar said.
"Come with me." Kaquibe said.
Kaquibe turned and headed down the corridor toward the balcony, moving faster, leaving his staff floating beside the throne behind him. Ignar rose immediately and followed at a quick pace, staying half a step behind as if that distance mattered.
They reached the balcony—a vibrant medieval structure, heavy with gold, extravagant to the point of indulgence, as if the castle itself exhaled luxury. Kaquibe stepped out, ready to see the familiar chain of mountains surrounding the Alliance's mountain.
Instead, he saw a plain.
A vast, open stretch of land—clean, empty, wrong.
It was familiar in the sense that it was land under a fantasy sky, but unfamiliar in the way the world refused to match his memory. In Arcadia, plains existed to host cities, forts, roads, patrol routes. An untouched plain like this felt unnatural.
Kaquibe froze again.
'This isn't Arcadia.' he thought.
He turned his skull-face toward Ignar. The illithid looked up with calm curiosity, waiting, as if Kaquibe's next command would define reality.
Kaquibe tried to access his inventory—nothing. No interface. No gesture worked. No system responded.
He drew a slow breath and forced himself to remember an old method—an impractical one most players abandoned once menus became seamless. He focused on the concept of his inventory, raised his hand, and imagined the specific item he wanted.
The space obeyed.
A dagger formed in his grip.
Kaquibe made a shallow cut across his palm, careful, controlled—just enough to test.
Pain flared. Real pain. A sharp burn that made his instincts recoil.
In Arcadia, pain was blocked. Damage was shown as a red vignette, a number, a bar dropping. You saw consequences without suffering them.
Here, there was no red warning, no bar, no overlay—only the sensation and the thin line of blood.
Kaquibe's heart seized for a second, then he forced it back under control.
He faced Ignar.
"Have you seen any sign of danger? Anything approaching?" Kaquibe said.
"No, my lord. None of the sensors or scrying visors have detected any presence beyond small animals within a five-kilometer radius of the castle." Ignar said.
Kaquibe stared at the empty plain again, then made the decision that felt like war logic—because war logic was the only thing steady enough to stand on.
"First, we make sure no threat identifies us until we understand what's happening." Kaquibe said.
He spoke quickly, cleanly, with the authority he'd used for years.
"Go to Jon and Joanna. Tell them to use their battalions to raise an invisible capsule around the mountain. Use every resource we have and finish it as fast as possible." Kaquibe said.
"And order every other guardian—except Jeff and Rubi—to move their battalions to the five-kilometer perimeter. If anything approaches, I want that information immediately." Kaquibe said.
Ignar listened without interruption. When Kaquibe finished, the illithid nodded once.
"As you command, my lord." Ignar said.
Ignar vanished in a teleport flash, leaving Kaquibe alone on the balcony with the weight of an impossible situation settling onto his shoulders.
Kaquibe's mind ran circles around the same problem: NPCs weren't supposed to understand ambiguous instructions like "secure a five-kilometer perimeter." They were supposed to request clarification. They were supposed to fail gracefully. They weren't supposed to decide, interpret, or emote.
Yet Ignar had done all three.
Kaquibe returned to the throne hall, retrieved his staff from where it floated beside his throne, and forced himself to think like a commander instead of a trapped player.
'If the inventory still works by intention… maybe abilities do too.' he thought.
He gripped the staff and focused on short-range teleportation. Without a menu, the sensation was different—more internal, like feeling the shape of the spell inside his bones. He could sense distance limits, mana cost, and even the cooldown like a pressure in the air.
He activated it.
His body snapped forward in space. Clean. Instant.
It worked.
Kaquibe confirmed the truth with a bitter calm: he still had his magic. The difference was that everything required concentration now—no interface, no shortcuts, no safety rails.
A teleport flash sparked at the hall's entrance.
Ignar reappeared, immediately kneeling and bowing his head.
"My lord, it is done. All guardians are moving to their tasks." Ignar said.
Two more figures appeared behind Ignar, dropping to their knees as well.
One was a demon with dark skin, large pointed ears, and four horns rising from his head. Multiple piercings lined each ear, with another above his eyebrow. His eyes glowed red. His outfit was almost modern—an elegant dress shirt and formal trousers, the top buttons undone, the shirt hanging loose over the belt with an effortless, sensual confidence. Formal shoes. An athletic build. He moved like he owned the air around him.
The other was a woman slightly smaller in frame, pale-skinned with fiercely red hair and matching brows. She wore a red dress with yellow, flame-like details; the hem truly burned, embers licking at the fabric as if it fed on heat. Her eyes were a hot, molten yellow.
"Jeff, at your service, my lord." the demon said.
"Rubi, at your service, my lord." the woman said.
Kaquibe's stomach tightened.
He hadn't called them. He had explicitly excluded Jeff and Rubi from perimeter deployment. They were supposed to maintain castle position.
And yet they came anyway.
'They decided on their own.' he thought.
That realization threatened to crack his composure. In the game, if you didn't tell an NPC to do something, it didn't happen. That rigidity was law. It could save you or doom you, but it was consistent.
This wasn't.
Kaquibe closed his eyes, ignoring the three kneeling guardians, and focused on one thing: projecting strength. If these beings now had will—real will—then weakness would be a mistake he couldn't afford.
He felt the teleport cooldown had ended. He used it twice in quick succession—one step forward in space, then another—ending directly before his throne. He sat, letting his staff float beside him again like a symbol rather than a tool.
"Good. Stay alert. Keep the castle on maximum guard. Place your people at key points and be ready to respond instantly until the invisibility dome is complete." Kaquibe said.
"Yes, my lord." Ignar, Jeff, and Rubi said.
They rose and vanished, leaving Kaquibe alone with the echo of their obedience.
He exhaled slowly, then forced his mind back into motion.
After a short time, movement and flashes in the corridor announced their return—Ignar leading, with Jeff and Rubi behind him. Jeff walked with relaxed, extroverted swagger, shoulders loose, posture almost playful. Rubi moved like a blade with a stern face and heavy steps, each footfall carrying weight. Ignar remained thoughtful, silent, focused.
Jeff broke the tension first.
"What are you thinking so hard about? The boss already gave the orders. There's nothing left to overthink." Jeff said.
"The fact that you don't understand is why you were made for combat and not for strategy." Ignar said.
Ignar didn't slow.
"The lord's decisions were fast and clean, but I still fear an invisibility dome won't be enough." Ignar said.
Rubi's eyes narrowed, heat flickering at the edges of her dress.
"Then why didn't you tell the lord directly?" Rubi said.
"I refused to doubt his strategy in front of him." Ignar said.
He glanced back once, his tentacles shifting slightly, controlled.
"I believe he already intends to cover whatever weakness the dome leaves. If he takes responsibility himself, he can solve any problem." Ignar said.
Jeff scoffed like boredom was a joke he could afford.
"Sure, sure. Strategy. Doom. Whatever. If there's work to do, someone should do it." Jeff said.
He drifted away with a mocking ease.
Rubi clicked her tongue and stomped once, irritation flaring. A fiery footprint remained on the stone like a scorch mark shaped by attitude.
She vanished in a heat-flash.
Ignar stared at the burning mark for a brief second and released a controlled breath.
"I'll have to call Caleb to clean this mess again." Ignar thought.
Then Ignar turned and continued on, vanishing into his duties as the castle prepared itself for a world that no longer felt like a game.