As a gust of wind hit the flying lion, making its wings flutter and forcing it to correct its position, Alan tightened his hold around Astrid's waist.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Y-Yeah. It's just that I haven't gotten used to this yet."
"If it makes you feel better, some High Levelers still haven't shaken the vertigo to this day!"
"Nope. That didn't help!"
Astrid laughed.
Her laughter was warm and melodic.
"Regardless, flying is quite handy. And really simple once you get the hang of it. But if it isn't your thing, I wouldn't mind riding you whenever and wherever you want!"
Another gust of wind hit Alan's ears just as Astrid was speaking.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that last part. What were you saying?"
"Never mind."
When the trip became less turbulent, he looked down at the sleeves of his brand new jacket.
Astrid had insisted on visiting a clothing store before returning to HQ.
"Are you sure we have time for this? That call sounded urgent," Alan had said minutes prior as Astrid dragged him inside.
"We'll be in and out before you know it! Let's just look for something close to your current style."
"But I don't have any mo—"
Before Alan could finish, Astrid spun on her heel and pressed an index finger against his lips.
"I don't want to hear a single word about it, okay?"
As promised, the selection took no more than five minutes—the racks could be filtered by style and color, and a mirror showed a preview of Alan wearing each option in real time.
After settling on a red sporty jacket and black pants—from a brand promising a retro look inspired by the gear of the old good times—Alan noticed they carried the highest stat values he had seen to date.
Astrid nodded, satisfied. "Red looks good on you," she said, grinning.
Her mount landed softly in an open courtyard surrounded by neatly trimmed square hedges, where a smiling Tamara Morin was already waiting for them. Her twin tails swayed as she bounded toward them.
"Good morning, Guild Master!" She then turned to Alan. "Good morning to you too, Mr. Warden."
"Come on, where did the 'Mr.' come from? Just call me Alan."
"What's this urgent matter Marco wants to discuss? Do you know, Tammie?" Astrid asked, though she already had an idea.
"The First Officer has summoned all division officers to a meeting. He'd like to officially welcome Alan Warden to the guild!"
Despite the joyous news, Astrid's ears buzzed with dread.
Surely just an excuse to interrogate him about his five-year absence in front of the other Captains, she thought, gazing at Alan with unease. She then glanced at his new outfit. At least he looks like any other User now. With the exception of that strange value above his head.
Alan looked back and smiled. "Sounds like fun. I'd like to meet everyone."
"Follow me, please," Tamara led the way, but before Alan could take a step, Astrid anchored him by the wrist. Worry flickering behind her eyes.
He whispered to her, "It'll be all right."
But I still don't know your full story yet! Do I have to find out the same way as everyone else? That isn't fair at all! she thought, and yet, let him go.
They walked toward the main building—a structure that felt more like a gallery than a guild hall, with clean white walls, tall arched windows, and a cupola rising above the roofline.
Outside, two NPCs in maid outfits waited. One received Alan with a warm smile. The other looked as though she was attempting to see straight through him.
"Good morning, Manager. We were expecting you," Bella said, waving cheerfully.
Anastasia had her arms crossed. "Master, why did you leave without telling us? How are we supposed to serve you if you vanish without a word?"
"I'm so sorry!" Alan clasped his palms together. "I should've messaged you! I have no excuse. It won't happen again, I promise!"
"Can you even message an NPC?" Tamara whispered to Astrid, who exhaled.
"No, you can't," Astrid replied, watching the scene with narrowed eyes.
"We will discuss our communication later," Anastasia said sternly, before glancing toward Astrid.
Both NPCs curtsied in unison.
"It's an honor to meet you, Guild Master," Anastasia said.
"Thank you for looking after Alan Warden in our stead, Ms. Bradford," Bella added.
Astrid was caught off guard by the sudden formality of the two fake women who, just moments ago, had been scolding Alan like a wayward child.
Tamara had already mentioned in her report that the NPCs Alan brought with him acted outside their programming.
"It's difficult to explain," Tamara had written. "It'll be easier once you see them."
Somehow, their behavior reminded Astrid of the humanoid monsters that had tried to communicate with her in recent days—the ones that expressed having found a goal of their own.
NPCs are nothing but basic AI, built to fulfill a limited task: A vendor. A cook. A maid. But these two act as if they were given an extra line of code—one that tells them to play the part of… bodyguards.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Astrid addressed them. "I should be the one thanking you, for helping Alan."
"It's our job," Bella said with a smile.
"No thanks needed, Guild Master. Protecting him is our duty," Anastasia said, holding Astrid's gaze.
That answer unsettled Astrid more than she could put into words.
"Come on, girls, you're embarrassing me," Alan cut in, scratching the back of his neck. "Hey, you got new outfits, huh. Nice!"
Both girls now wore crisp black dresses that fell to mid-thigh, trimmed with white lace along the hem, the collar, and the edges of their puffed sleeves. The neckline dipped deep enough to catch the eye. A white apron cinched each at the waist. Thigh-high stockings disappeared beneath the skirt's hem, and small white headpieces sat neatly in their hair. Bella's version had a red ribbon at the collar, and Anastasia wore the same on her ponytail.
Tamara stepped in, looking apologetic. "I took the liberty of giving them these uniforms—they explicitly insisted on servitude clothing! And since Anastasia's dress was ripped all over the place, and Bella's was too soiled to even wash, I gave them what the guild's NPCs wear."
"Thanks, Tamara. Alright, guys, stay here while I'm in the meeting, okay? Get breakfast. Take a break. Whatever you fancy."
"Will do, Manager! I was starting to get hungry."
"I'll wait here until the meeting is over," Anastasia said, unmoved.
The interior was as pristine as the exterior promised—white walls, high ceilings, and an echo that accompanied every step that only spoke of its grandeur. As they crossed the hallway, Alan took in the walls, adorned with framed videos: fifteen-second snippets of different users showcasing their best Special Moves or Magic Spells. He quickly realized these were Shooting Stars members at their finest, likely captured during PvP tournaments.
Their steps eventually led them to a set of double doors, where a sharply dressed man in a tailored black suit waited with a measured smile. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with jet-black hair and golden eyes that contrasted elegantly with his porcelain skin. Subtle, glossy scale-like accents caught the light along the shoulders and collar of his suit as he strode forward.
"Welcome, Alan Warden. It's an honor to have you with us after… what, five years?"
"Five years and four months," Alan corrected, meeting his steady gaze. "Thanks for the warm welcome. Um…"
"My name is Marco Souza. And the honor is mine… I'm the guild's First Officer. Second in command, if you will."
"Pleasure," Alan said, extending his hand. The handshake was surprisingly light, which prompted Alan to grip tighter.
Marco paused before returning the pressure, though only faintly.
Marco turned to Astrid. "Good morning, Guild Master. Glad you could join us."
"Morning, Marco," she replied, her tone measured. "Are all the Captains here already?"
"Waiting for us as we speak. There's much to discuss. Please, come in." He stepped aside and extended an arm toward the entrance. "After you, Mr. Warden."
"Just Alan."
The conference room was anchored by a long polished table, seven individuals already in their seats. Tamara slid into place beside a girl Alan had not met yet. Marco moved to one end of the table, while Astrid settled into the seat at the opposite head without ceremony—the Guild Master's chair. Alan took the seat to her right.
A pair of female NPCs approached Alan immediately—not much different from the ones he had bound to—and asked if he would like some tea.
He accepted as the other one placed a plate of pastries in front of him.
"Allow me to introduce everyone," Marco said, the only one still on his feet. "You already know Tamara Morin, Captain of the Support Division. Her magical defense rivals our best Tank."
Tamara nodded shyly in Alan's direction.
Despite the introduction moving on, Alan lingered on her a moment longer.
I already have my read on her. Beneath that cute, soft-spoken exterior is someone who would do anything for this guild without hesitation.
He remembered the moment from the day before—when she had not moved a finger while Jason had Anastasia's face against the floor.
"To her side is Vice Captain Daisy Everly, our weaponsmith," Marco continued. "You'll rarely find her outside the forge."
"MY forge." A woman with short, curly brunette hair waved from her seat. "Yo! Nice to meet you, Founder. I saw your maids earlier…" She whistled. "Impressive specimens—especially the tall one! Great arms. If you ever want me to kit them out, just say the word. I've already got ideas."
From that brief exchange, Alan got his read on Daisy loud and clear.
<
Huh. She's refreshingly straightforward.
Alan smiled. Her energy reminded him of his mentor.
Though Abigail would never have bothered asking for permission.
"That help would be more than welcome. I'm counting on you."
Marco took the word again, "Now, the Knight Division—the warriors who lead the vanguard. Captain William Myers is our strongest Tank and the backbone of many victories."
"Pleasure," the enormous man said—large enough that Alan wondered if he was occupying two seats. William's biceps bulged from his crossed arms like grinding stones.
Alan read the man's expression clearly.
<>
"Oscar Bennet is the Knights' Vice Captain, and the most skillful spearman you'll ever cross."
"Hey, Alan, good to meet you!" Oscar said with a grin. He was around Alan's age, with a shaved head and sharp, squared features.
The greeting was warm, but the thought behind it was not hard to find: <
"Now, the Rogue Division, where Helen Reed governs with an iron fist. Right, Helen?"
Alan recognized the name immediately.
Across the table sat a young woman with black hair just below her ears, carrying the same quiet, guarded energy he had noticed in Astrid's photos.
"Hey," she said, with a shrug, not bothering to hide that she would rather be elsewhere.
The moment stretched awkwardly before Marco moved on.
In the silence, Helen glanced at Alan for a moment.
A blank slate.
That was what Alan found when he looked into her mismatched eyes—the right one blue like open water, the left one brown like moist earth.
Like earth absorbing the blood of a battlefield.
He did not know where that thought came from.
Helen seemed to notice what Alan was doing—reading everyone—and let a small smirk cross her face, shifting her expression entirely, as if becoming someone else.
"The Rogue Division's Vice Captain is someone you've already met, Alan. Marissa Laflamme," Marco continued. "She needs no further introduction."
Marissa fluttered her fingers in a casual wave.
<> That's what her smirk said.
"And last but certainly not least, the Mage Division."
Alan locked eyes with a redhead across the table wearing an exuberant dress that left her bosom spilling from the neckline almost obscenely. Her fiery hair fell around her shoulders like a mane, untamed and unapologetic, and she carried herself with the kind of glamour that demanded the Queen Bee position.
Of course, that was only if Astrid Bradford was not sharing the room.
She held his gaze without flinching.
Eyes the color of amber stones.
"The stunning redhead across from you is our Mage Captain, Amelia Laflamme. Don't let the looks fool you, she holds the well-earned title of Princess of Hell for a reason. Nothing that gets in her way stays standing."
Laflamme? Same as Marissa?
Out of everyone introduced so far, Amelia was the one Alan had not been prepared for.
Noise.
The moment he looked into her eyes, it hit him from every direction at once—like speakers blaring at full volume from all sides.
He was surrounded.
Overwhelmed.
Hate. Jealousy. Bitterness. Passion. Pity. Resentment. Grief. Fury. Defiance.
Alan felt the heat all of a sudden as if someone had turned up the temperature in the room. He wanted to tear off his jacket, claw his way out of his own skin—until a warm hand settled against his, steadying him.
Astrid's… sitting right beside him.
The contact lasted only a second, but it was enough to break him free of whatever that was.
A spell? A curse? Wait—was this Amelia trying to curse me just by staring? Can you actually do that?
Amelia met Astrid's glare for a fraction of a second, looked away, smoothed her expression, and said, "Nice to meet you," she said in a low, smoky voice.
Marco continued his presentation, seemingly oblivious to what had transpired in that brief moment. "Our Mage Vice Captain is Karin Svensson. Our answer to armies. A living Armageddon."
"Hi," Karin said, her expression making no effort to hide her feelings on the matter.
This one's easy... She just doesn't like me.
"And that would be everyone," Marco said, sweeping his gaze across the table. "I hope you'll all make Alan feel right at home."
The introductions finally settled into silence.
"So…" William's deep voice filled the room effortlessly. "What is his role going to be, exactly?"
His tone was neither hostile nor rude—the same voice he used when discussing battle tactics.
The ghost of a smirk crossed Marco's face, but said nothing, content to let the moment breathe.
Every gaze in the room settled on Astrid and on the young man with reddish hair shifting uncomfortably in his seat beside her.
Astrid's expression hardened. "That's not a conversation for today."
"With all due respect, Guild Master," Oscar chimed in, "we're already here. Seems like a fair question."
"Is it true you two were an item back then?" Marissa cut in with a playful grin, earning a sharp look from Astrid. The others exchanged surprised glances. Marissa only shrugged. "I'm just curious!"
"Listen." Astrid's voice cut through the noise. "What you need to know is this: Alan Warden and I share a history—one that predates every single person in this room. He founded this guild. That is not up for debate. For the moment, he will remain rankless. Your positions as officers don't change." She let her gaze move across every face at the table, unhurried. "What I do expect, from all of you, is that you treat him with the same respect you'd show me. Are we clear?"
Nobody pushed back. Karin could be heard snickering under her breath, Amelia was examining her nails, Helen seemed to have checked out entirely, and the Knight Division simply nodded.
"Crystal," Marco said with a smile. "But before we move on, I think we still need to hear from him."
He paused, waiting for Alan—who had just engulfed a pair of cookies—to raise his head.
"Um… Yes?"
"We would all love to learn the reason for your long absence," Marco said with a friendly—too calculated—smile.
Astrid's heart skipped a beat. Even Helen, who had been staring out the narrow window to her left, turned her head.
When the room expected him to mince his words, Alan gulped the food and shrugged.
"I was in a coma."
9.1
"Please step onto this platform so I can take your measurements."
Bella stepped onto a flat, circular disc barely raised from the floor, and a translucent cylinder of pale blue light rose around her, humming softly as thin scanning lines traveled up and down her body in steady passes.
As the machine did its work, Daisy glanced over at Alan, who was busy examining the weapon stands.
"How are you getting on over there? Anything catching your eye?"
Alan picked up a sword from one of the display mounts, studied it for a couple of seconds, then set it back. "Not yet."
Daisy's workshop looked more like a high-end boutique than an armory. The walls were a clean matte pink, the floors polished to a mirror finish. Not what one might expect from someone who spent their days shaping metal. There was even a viewing ring at the center, a sunken circular space bordered by curved pink couches, designed for lounging while watching a friend try on a new set of armor.
Astrid occupied one of them, sipping green tea, eyes narrowed at the NPC with violet hair seated across from her. Anastasia sat with her back straight and hands folded neatly in her lap. When she noticed Astrid's gaze, she smiled. Astrid looked away.
Two chiming alerts sounded in quick succession.
"Perfect! Why don't you take a seat over there, love? I'll be with you in a moment," Daisy said to Bella, already striding toward the 'Forge'—a sleek white machine the size of a wardrobe, which exhaled a faint hiss when opening its output tray.
Daisy retrieved a sleek silver breastplate that gleamed under the lights. "Alright, Anastasia dear, stand up please. Time to dress you for the prom."
"We're not going to a prom. We're going to a raid tomorrow," Anastasia said matter-of-factly.
Daisy's expression went blank before a chuckle escaped her. "It's just a figure of speech. Come on! Try this on."
Anastasia equipped the breastplate without ceremony. A single tap, and the system handled the rest. The armor settled into place over her dress, tracing the curve of her waist and cupping her bosom as if it had been poured onto her.
"Too tight across the chest?"
"No. It fits perfectly."
Daisy circled her once, inspecting the fit with a critical eye, before nodding in satisfaction. Moments later, Anastasia was also wearing gauntlets and heeled armored boots, the silver complementing her black and white uniform cleanly.
"You look so cool." Daisy giggled, clasping her hands together with self-satisfaction. She tilted her head left, then right, drinking in the view. "You said you wield a battle axe, right?"
"Yes, Ms. Everly," Anastasia said, summoning the weapon into her hands and offering it to Daisy.
"Wow! So you really do use weapons!" Daisy grabbed it effortlessly with one hand and gave it a slow rotation at the wrist, letting the weight find its own momentum, before snapping it through a clean diagonal cut and a follow-up horizontal sweep that hissed through the air. "What's yours, Bella?"
"I've been practicing with a kitchen knife for the last couple of weeks," the NPC replied as if answering a question about the weather, sending a shiver down Alan's spine.
I don't even want to remember that, he thought, reaching for another sword, only to receive the same notification.
Insufficient level to wield this.
"Crap," he whispered, setting it back.
"How experienced are you with this?" Daisy asked Anastasia, still working through slow test swings, reading the blade's balance with each pass.
"Not much."
"Wouldn't you prefer a—"
"No," Anastasia said, cutting her off.
Astrid looked up from her tea. Even Daisy paused.
That was the first time any of them had seen an NPC behave like that.
"Sorry, sorry! I overstepped!" Daisy recovered quickly. "But would you still indulge me in something?" She strode to the weapon displays, filtered through its contents, and searched.
She returned with a sword that looked like it belonged in a completely different category from Anastasia's axe—a greatsword. Long and slim, its dark blade etched with intricate patterns running the length like veins. The crossguard was broad and golden, adorned with pale blue gems that caught the light cleanly. It looked less like a weapon and more like an ornamental piece.
Anastasia took it, and the moment she felt its weight, her eyebrows rose.
"I could always forge you a new battle axe with a more high-quality material, but why don't you take this one on your next mission first and see how it sits? At least until you get more comfortable with a two-handed style."
"I appreciate it. But I can't use this one. It's above my current level," Anastasia said, her expression making clear she did not want to hand it back.
"Ah, don't worry about that. I'll forge you the same model scaled to your level." Daisy turned to Bella. "Haven't forgotten you, love. How do you feel about trading the kitchen knife for a proper hunting dagger?"
"I would be forever in your debt, Ms. Everly," Bella replied, with a curtsy.
Anastasia followed with one of her own. "Please, Ms. Everly."
"Stop with the 'miss', you're making me blush! Just Daisy." She turned to Alan. "Same goes for you, Founder. You can't equip any of those, but I can forge you a one-handed sword suited for a level ten."
"Oh, you knew?"
"That value above your head? I used to be a programmer back in the day. That 'MTA=' tag means ten in Base64 encoding, am I right?"
"Correct! But… can you really do that? Forge something for me? You've already done so much for them—"
"Oh, shut up. Just pick a weapon and let me do my thing, okay?"
With that settled, Alan started browsing again.
Astrid approached him, arms crossed. "Do you really have to go?"
"Hmm? Of course! The First Officer was kind enough to make room for me and the girls. It'll be my first official raid. I have to go."
"But…" Astrid bit her lower lip.
It's a high level zone. What if something happens to—okay, we can revive. But—!
What if I lose you again?
Those were the words she wanted to say. She kept every one of them behind her teeth.
"Astrid…" Alan said, examining a curved blade. Its glistening surface reflected his face back at him. "I know we haven't had the chance to talk about… you know what. I'm sorry for that. I'll tell you everything, just give me a little time, okay? The only thing I can share right now is that these glitches can't be ignored." He looked up and met her eyes. "You said so yourself yesterday, didn't you?"
I did, but…
As he turned back to the weapons, Astrid channeled mana and cast, "Eye of the Sage," under her breath. Her eyes brightened to electric blue.
"You say something?" he asked, oblivious.
Alan's stats materialized for Astrid alone, and a Passive Skill made her squint.
Accelerated Thought Lv. 1? Why does he have that?
Shaking her head slightly, she let her gaze drift across the display racks.
"Alan?"
He turned, and she held out a katana.
"This one doesn't rely on brute strength," she said quietly. "It rewards accuracy and patience." Her eyes stayed on him a beat longer than necessary. "You'd have to read your target before committing to a strike."
He stared at it before smiling.
"Then it's settled."