THOSE CRIMSON AND EMERALD EYES

"Scatter!" one ranger said. But before they could move, an attack swept them from behind. Their heads flew away from their body.

"My Lord, please forgive me for not knowing earlier," the attacker said.

"Rabor, son of Rorin, you're just like your forefathers. Slaves to their flagon," Aildrin said in a deep voice. "Eliminate the other one and leave the orc behind."

"Yes, My Lord," the dwarf said.

Pilades finally freed himself from Papa Bear when he sent him crashing to the sidelines. He then saw the slaughter. "What the-"

"Shield Asunder!" Rabor said. He hurled his axe with violence towards Pilades.

Pilades dodged the dwarf's attack, and the axe flew past him. "Why is this NPC attacking me?" he thought.

But then the axe returned like a boomerang and cracked Pilades' skull. Blood spilled. And the last member of Burning Orient finally dropped dead on the ground.

"Skulls! Fight me!" Papa Bear said after recovering. "Eh? Where are the enemies? You dwarf? You wanna fight me?"

"My Lord, may I teach this orc a lesson?" Rabor said.

"You may now return to your flagon, Rabor," Aildrin said.

"Woah, Ilidran! Why are your eyes red and your voice deep? Are you possessed? Don't scare me like that! Papa Bear is afraid of ghosts!"

Aildrin ignored the orc. He then gazed at the forest and then disappeared in a blur.

Rancor was sitting on his own puddle of black blood when Aildrin arrived. Arrows and cards riddled its frail body. He was just a push away from death.

The goblin hissed when Aildrin walked towards him. "Ah, those crimson eyes...I heard them before in stories of men....Harbingers of war, slaughter, and death. The eyes...of the War Gods' lineage..." He forced a violent cough. "Ha! It's an honor to die under your hands. Be quick and end my miserable—"

Rancor's vision spun, then turned black. His head flew out of his body.

[Victory!]

[Leaving Ranzac Valley...]

Aildrin found himself back outside the three portals. Fatigue screamed for sleep deep within him. His memories of the match were all a blur.

[Congratulations on winning your first war, Ilidran!] Kerstein said.

[You have been promoted to Rookie IV. You may return anytime to the War Room to earn more experience on the battlefield and increase your rank.]

[Organizing your spoils of war...]

[You have received a secret key for defeating the Ranzac.] In Aildrin's inventory, a circular black stone the size of one's palm appeared.

[You have received the Weaver's Amalgam from the Ranzac.] It was a jet black one-piece leather suit with furry white outlines and an ivory bow with eight bulbous red eyes in its limb.

[You have received a barrel of Hornpub's Mead from Rabor.]

[You have unlocked the portal to Alistor City. You may now enter the Open World and begin your search for the Empty Throne. Do you wish to enter now?]

"No..." Aildrin said with droopy eyes and a roaring stomach. "I need to sleep..."

After a minute, Aildrin finally installed and activated WisDoom's CommCenter that Sol told him about.

"Sol...please get me out of here—"

Aildrin was snoring in his chair when Sol arrived at his station. The boosters that should have lasted for a month were already empty.

Meanwhile, inside Burning Orient's training room, a tube-shaped gaming cabin opened. An azure-haired teenager in a white shirt came out. His right chest displayed an insignia of a blue pearl in white flames.

At least fifty figures wearing the same shirt surrounded him. Their murmurs bombarded his ears when his body finally adjusted to the actual world.

"What a shame! I thought he's a prodigy with a God-level assessment." His ears caught one whisper.

The boy did not mind them. He glanced at the four figures with heads bowed low beside him. They've been waiting for him for a while.

He nodded towards them and marched out of the room, paying no attention to the scrutiny and degrading looks around him. The four followed.

A scarlet-haired teenager blocked his way and said, "Whoops! Where are you going?" He was higher, so he looked down on him while speaking. "You owe us an explanation, God Zaito. We're sent here every day to learn from your prowess. But what was that shit? You were the first to die in battle!"

"Watch your mouth, Aoki!" said by a gruff voice behind Zaito. It came from a burly man with olive skin and a bald head. He was around mid-twenties.

"Pacholo, my friend! Why don't you mind your own business, huh?" Aoki said.

Zaito looked daggers at Aoki. He had nothing but disgust for him. He then continued walking.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Aoki grabbed Zaito's shoulder when he walked past him.

Zaito executed a backward kick towards Aoki's abdomen, but the latter blocked it. "Ha! Still too slow."

"Stop!" The shout came from a short-haired lady by the room's exit. Her hair's color was the same as Zaito.

Aoki released his grip and then grinned. "Zoraida! I won't accept this little brother of yours as the captain of the main team!"

Zoraida crossed her arms. "So what do you propose, kid?"

"A one-on-one match in Wargrounds! And if he loses, I get to captain the main team for the Rookie Challenge...and choose my members."

"Tomorrow. After Burning Orient's match against Titans, I'll face you. And if you lose, you'll be excommunicated from the guild." Zaito finally spoke. He then left Aoki for good and resumed his march towards the exit.

"You heard that, Zoraida! Your cute little brother finally accepted my challenge!" Aoki said. He then stirred the crowd with his maniacal grin. "You heard that! God Zaito finally accepted my challenge!"

When Zaito reached the exit, he did not meet Zoraida's gaze. Those emerald eyes reminded him he would never amount to something, no matter how hard he tried to improve. "I'll take my rest for tonight," he said with clenched fists by his waist.

"Just when I thought you'd redeemed yourself, you pulled off another disappointment. Go to your room and reflect on your lack of strength!" Zoraida said with stern eyes. "And make sure to learn from my match against Titans tomorrow."