Lucy's mind almost could not cope with the insanity unraveling around her.
Reality had fractured.
Her breath came in broken pulls, shallow and frantic, her lungs burning as though the air itself had turned hostile. Each inhale tasted metallic, thick with iron and ash, and each exhale trembled as if her body no longer trusted the act of living. The Wister sky loomed overhead—an ugly, oppressive crimson, bruised and rotting, its gilded clouds hanging low like swollen wounds that threatened to burst. Lightning did not strike. It crawled, red veins twitching behind the heavens, as though the world itself were alive and convulsing.
The Island of the Stone Fields was no longer land.
It was a slaughter maze.
Grey, lifeless stone stretched in jagged corridors and broken plains, fractured into cold labyrinths that offered no refuge. The ground was showered in blood—fresh, steaming, splattered in violent arcs across rock and ruin. Bodies lay everywhere, twisted into unnatural shapes, some half-crushed into the stone as though the island itself had decided to swallow them whole.
And the players—
The players had gone feral.
They tore into one another with screams that bordered on laughter. Magicless fists broke bones. Teeth sank into throats. Weapons meant for monsters were buried into human flesh without hesitation. There was no strategy. No alliances. No mercy.
Only survival.
Lucy fell to her knees.
Her legs simply gave out, her body folding as her mind finally cracked under the weight of what it was witnessing. Her palms hit the stone, slick with blood not her own. Her vision blurred violently, the world smearing into crimson and grey streaks as tears welled up uninvited.
Everywhere she looked—death.
Her ears stung with the voices of the dying. Screams layered over screams, begging and cursing and laughing all at once. Bones snapped like dry branches. Someone nearby gurgled, trying desperately to breathe through a crushed windpipe. Another sobbed prayers to gods long dead—or perhaps worse, gods who were listening.
How could all this happen so fast?
How could everything fall apart in moments?
Her thoughts fractured. The Crown on her head weighed heavier than ever, its cold presence resting like an accusation against her skull. It did not speak. It did not punish. It simply reminded her—silently—that this was her reality now.
Then it happened.
A shadow surged into her blurred vision.
Lucy barely had time to lift her head before a massive figure rushed toward her—a large, scarred man with madness burning in his eyes. His body was covered in old wounds and fresh blood, his skin crisscrossed with scars earned across countless battles. In his hands he wielded a stone axe, chipped and jagged, its edge drenched crimson.
He roared—not words, not a battle cry—just raw, animal rage.
Lucy froze.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs as time seemed to slow. She looked up at him, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat. She could not move. Could not think. The axe rose high, blotting out the red sky.
So this is how I die.
But fate had far more terrible plans for her.
A thunderous impact shattered the moment.
A Hornblest burst into the scene—a monstrous man of blood and bone, his body a massive mound pulsing muscle. It moved like a living avalanche. Before the scarred man could bring his axe down, the Hornblest slammed into him with terrifying force.
The man's head was smashed into the stone.
Not cracked.
Not broken.
Erased.
A massive boulder followed through, pulverizing what remained into a wet stain across the ground. Blood sprayed outward in a violent halo, splashing over Lucy's face, her hair, her shoulders. The Crown atop her head was drenched in crimson, its cold metal now slick with gore.
Lucy screamed—but no sound came out.
She sat there, shaking, staring at the remains of the man who had nearly ended her life. The Hornblest snorted, glowing eyes briefly locking onto her. For a moment—just a moment—it seemed to regard her with something like curiosity.
Then, almost lazily, it turned away and lumbered off, vanishing back into the chaos.
Lucy remained where she was.
Alive.
The Crown did not react.
Without access to her ether, it did not punish her for her weakness. It only lay atop her head, silent and unmoving, a reminder of everything she had lost—and everything she might yet become.
Her hands trembled as she slowly pushed herself upright.
The others.
Her thoughts drifted to them—Adam, Abbie, Nark. Were they experiencing the same madness? Were they drowning in blood and screams as she was?
Of course they were.
And of course they were holding their own.
They had to be.
Brenn's words echoed faintly in her mind—mercy has no meaning here.
Lucy swallowed.
If she was to survive, she would have to abandon something precious.
Her humanity.
Her fists clenched tightly, nails biting into her palms as conviction hardened within her chest. She would survive. At all costs.
But first…
She needed her power back.
Her gaze drifted downward.
The scarred man's body lay before her—or what remained of it. His head was little more than a ruin, skull cracked open like a shattered vessel. Lucy's stomach churned violently.
She crawled toward him.
Each movement felt wrong, unnatural, as though her body resisted every inch. When she reached his head, she stared down at the bloodied mess, bile rising sharply in her throat. She gagged, tears spilling freely now.
I can't.
I can't do this.
But the screams around her did not stop.
The world did not care.
Her hands moved on their own.
She clawed into the ruined skull, fingers slipping through gore and bone until she reached soft tissue. Her entire body shook as she tore free a chunk of brain matter.
Lucy shoved it into her mouth.
She did not think.
She did not breathe.
She forced it down, gagging, choking, her vision exploding into white static as her mind rejected what her body demanded. She swallowed again. And again.
There are only three things that can activate ether within a person.
Ethrin fruit.
Nirvra drugs.
Or the brain of an already awakened mage.
Naturally, the human mind produces ether—but it exists in a neutral state. In that form, it cannot be used or stored. It must be activated. Fed. Ignited.
Sugar for the soul.
Lucy collapsed forward, coughing violently, her body convulsing as disbelief crashed into her. What had she just done?
Then—
Energy flared.
At first it was subtle. A faint warmth beneath her skin. A whisper of movement through her veins.
Then it surged.
Ether erupted from her body, blue and divine, exploding outward in a blinding wave of power. The ground beneath her cracked violently as an aura of raw energy enveloped her, roaring like a celestial storm. Her hair lifted wildly as ether screamed free, lightning arcing across her skin.
The Crown did not react.
Its restrictions had been reduced. Its control loosened.
This war favored Lucy.
Across the Stone Fields, every player felt it.
Some froze mid-strike, terror locking their limbs as the sheer pressure of her awakening crushed down on them. Knees buckled. Bones groaned. Minds shattered under the weight of her presence.
The numbers are still too high, Lucy thought coldly.
She raised her hand.
"Fall."
The word carried power.
Thousands of players were slammed into the ground by an invisible force. Their bodies were crushed instantly, reduced to pools of blood and broken flesh as gravity itself turned against them.
Lucy did not stop.
She pulled her ether inward, condensing it near her chest, shaping it with violent intent. A sphere of pure destruction formed—an orb crackling with red lightning, unstable and screaming, its surface writhing with raw annihilation.
Anyone unlucky enough to be touched by it was erased.
She hurled it forward.
The explosion was cataclysmic.
Fire and ether tore through the battlefield, consuming everything in its path. Stone vaporized. Bodies disintegrated. The shockwave rippled outward, flattening what remained.
When it ended, silence fell.
A sickening, absolute silence.
A massive crater scarred the Stone Fields, its edges still glowing as heat hissed through fractured stone. The land itself howled in defiance.
Lucy stood at its center.
A small hologram flickered into existence beside her shoulder.
A duck.
She stared at it, blinking in confusion.
The duck quacked cheerfully, spinning in place.
"Player number 1013 has gained twenty-seven thousand points!"
It vanished.
All around her, the remaining players stared in horror.
"Did… did it really say twenty-seven thousand?"
"She killed them… just like that."
"She's a monster!"
"We have to stop her!"
"Kill her—everyone kill her!"
Lucy looked down at her hands.
Ether crackled at her fingertips, alive and eager.
Her face was cold.
"I don't want to do this," she whispered.
Then her eyes hardened.
"But if I have to… I have to."