Gathering.

The cafe was quiet, save for the occasional clink of cups and the low hum of conversation. The warm aroma of coffee lingered in the air, blending with the faint scent of freshly baked pastries. It was the kind of place that invited conversation—the kind that stretched into the afternoon without notice.

Rael sat across from Evan, absently stirring his coffee. It had been a while since they sat like this—just the two of them, no game, no guilds, no rivalry. Just two old friends sharing a table. Yet, even in the easy quiet between them, there was an unspoken weight in the air.

Evan smirked as he leaned back in his chair, eyeing Rael with amusement. "So, you really went and did it."

Rael set his spoon down, meeting his gaze. "I did."

Evan chuckled, shaking his head. "And here I thought you'd turn me down just to keep playing solo."

Rael gave a slight shrug. "I did turn you down."

Evan laughed. "Fair. But I didn't expect you to go and start your own." He took a slow sip of his coffee, his smirk lingering. "So, who's in it?"

"Leon," Rael said, then after a pause, "and Gale. A new friend."

Evan nodded. "Only three of you?"

"For now."

Evan let out a quiet whistle. "Man, I never thought I'd see the day. You, leading a guild again."

Rael didn't say anything, but there was an understanding between them—one that didn't need words.

Evan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His smirk softened into something more thoughtful. "It feels different, doesn't it?"

Rael met his gaze. "Yeah."

ROF had been a force—five players moving as one, bound by years of experience and trust. This wasn't the same. It wasn't supposed to be.

Evan nodded, then sat back with a grin. "Well, you know what that means, right?"

Rael raised an eyebrow.

Evan gestured to himself. "We're rivals now."

Rael let out a small breath of amusement. "Technically."

Evan laughed. "No 'technically' about it. Twisted Demons is the real deal, and I'm not going easy on you just 'cause we used to be on the same team."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

Evan's grin turned slightly more mischievous. "But if you ever get tired of the uphill climb, you know the offer's still open."

Rael tilted his head slightly. "And if I say no?"

Evan shrugged. "Then we'll just have to settle it in the game."

There was no edge to his words, no real challenge—just the natural competitiveness that had always been between them. It was the same energy that had pushed them to be better, to rise to the top together all those years ago.

Rael took a sip of his coffee before changing the subject. "So, what's this gathering you mentioned?"

Evan's expression shifted slightly. "It's for the old guard—pros, ex-pros, big names. Not a tournament, just a party. But…" He let the words hang.

Rael's fingers tapped lightly against his cup. "You think I should go?"

Evan's smirk faded, replaced by something more serious. "I think you should settle things with Lucian."

Rael didn't respond immediately. His grip on his cup tightened slightly, but only for a moment.

Evan studied him. "You never told me what happened between you two."

Rael exhaled slowly. "That's because I don't know what to say."

Evan didn't press. Instead, he leaned back again, his usual smirk returning—but this time, it was lighter. "Maybe seeing him in person will help."

Rael didn't answer right away, but after a few seconds, he gave a small nod. "Yeah. I'll be there."

Evan grinned. "Good. People are going to lose their minds when they see you walk in."

Rael raised an eyebrow. "And you?"

Evan chuckled. "I already knew you couldn't stay away."

The two sat in silence for a while, the weight of familiarity settling between them. 

* * *

The venue hummed with energy—layers of conversation, bursts of laughter. Chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, illuminating the faces of legends, both past and present.

Rael stepped inside with Evan, his sharp gaze cutting across the gathering. Years had passed, yet the atmosphere remained unchanged—old rivals watching each other with measured glances, new players carrying the arrogance of youth, and scattered among them, the silent titans who needed no introduction.

Evan nudged him. "Didn't think you'd actually show."

Rael exhaled. "Figured it was time."

"Or you just wanted to see who's still standing."

Rael didn't answer. His attention had already shifted to the different clusters of players—former champions, tactical masterminds, and those who had taken the throne in his absence.

It didn't take long before someone noticed them.

A voice rang out from the bar. "Evan! And—damn. Aureus, is that really you?"

Rael tensed slightly at the name before forcing himself to relax. He turned. "It's been a while, Samuel."

Samuel Vex, former strategist of Ironbound Legion, approached with an easy smirk. His team had never bested ROF, but their clashes had been brutal and legendary.

"Haven't seen you in years," Samuel said, giving Rael an appraising look. "Didn't think you'd ever come back."

Rael shrugged. "Things change."

Samuel chuckled, sipping his drink. "Guess so. But the scene's moved on. You're stepping into a whole new battlefield." His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Take Solomon's Demons, for example. They own the game now."

Rael raised an eyebrow. "Never heard of them."

Evan smirked. "They came after you left. Won three consecutive championships. They're the ones to beat."

Rael let the information settle. A new dynasty. It explained the lingering glances, the unspoken question in the air—was he here to reclaim something?

Across the room, a group stood together, distinct even among the elites. Solomon's Demons.

At the center was Apex. He wasn't the loudest or the most physically imposing, yet his presence anchored the room. There was a quiet intensity to the way he stood, like an unshaken pillar amid the storm of competition. His team surrounded him, radiating confidence.

And as expected, they had already noticed Rael.

"Tch." A wiry man from their group—Isaac—crossed his arms, eyes flicking toward Rael with skepticism. "That's Aureus? Doesn't look like much."

"He was a legend," another member countered, sounding almost offended. "Before you even touched the scene, Isaac."

Isaac scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. Before. Past tense. We've been holding the throne. You think some guy who's been gone for years is just gonna waltz back in like it's still his era?"

Ari, leaning against the bar beside Apex, exhaled through her nose, amused. "You're loud for someone who hasn't even fought him." She tilted her head toward Rael, eyes sharp. "He does have that look, though."

"What look?"

"Like he knows something we don't."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Oh, please—"

Apex finally spoke.

"He's not someone you underestimate." His tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable weight behind it.

Isaac frowned but didn't argue. The room wasn't loud, but somehow, Apex's words cut through it.

Apex then turned his gaze fully to Rael.

"I respect what you were," he said, his voice even, unreadable. "But I only care about what you are now." A flicker of something competitive edged his expression. "So let's see if you still belong here."

There was no arrogance in his voice—just certainty, the kind that came from knowing exactly where he stood.

Rael met his gaze.

Guess we will.

The silent conversation between them faded into the background noise of the party, but the tension lingered.

Then, just as Rael was about to turn away, a shift.

A presence.

His instincts kicked in before his thoughts did. He turned sharply—

Lucian.

Standing near the edge of the party, half in shadow. His posture was relaxed, but his presence was like a drawn blade—silent, sharp.

Rael opened his mouth—

Lucian turned and left.

No words. No hesitation. Just gone.

Rael stared at the empty space where he had stood, fingers curling slightly at his side.

Rael moved through the crowd with purpose, his sharp gaze scanning the room. Lucian couldn't have gone far. He knows him—knows his habits. And sure enough, he finds him standing alone on a balcony, leaning against the railing. The cool night air stirs Lucian's hair, but he doesn't turn around.

"How did you find me?" Lucian's voice is calm, but there's an edge to it, a quiet weight beneath the words.

Rael steps forward but keeps a respectful distance. "You always looked for fresh air when you were upset."

A tense pause. Then Lucian turns, finally facing him. His gaze is sharp, unreadable, but his presence hasn't changed—it's just as intense, just as unwavering.

"You don't get to act like you still know me."

Rael doesn't react outwardly, but the words hit deeper than he expects.

Lucian tilts his head slightly, studying him. His posture is relaxed, but there's something dangerous beneath it, something coiled. "You never said anything back then. You just left."

A flicker of something crosses his face—anger, bitterness, or maybe something more complicated. "And when I asked for answers, you stayed silent. So I gave you my own."

Rael remembers the fight. It wasn't just words. It had escalated fast, and for the first time, Lucian—always composed, always precise—had fought with something raw, something messy. And in the end, they had walked away from each other.

Lucian exhales slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips curl into something that isn't quite a smirk.

"You know, I used to look up to you."

The words should have felt heavier, but they slip from Lucian's mouth like an afterthought. A statement of fact. Used to.

Lucian steps past him. Then, just as he's about to disappear down the hallway, he pauses, tilting his head slightly.

"If you're serious about coming back, then I'll make sure you regret it."

Rael watches him go, the weight of his words lingering in the cold air.

"Sorry."

The word is quiet, but Lucian doesn't acknowledge it. Doesn't even slow his step.

Rael sighs, shaking his head. Still the same. Still stubborn. Still childish in his own way.

Just like a little brother.

* * *

The apartment was dimly lit, the glow from the kitchen casting soft shadows along the walls. The scent of garlic and butter filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of traffic outside. Elias stood by the stove, stirring a pan with practiced ease, his expression relaxed but attentive.

Rael stepped inside, tossing his jacket onto the couch before leaning against the counter. His mind was still a tangled mess—memories of Lucian's sharp words clashing with the weight of his own silence. He exhaled, rubbing his temple.

Elias barely glanced at him. "Didn't expect you back this early."

"Got tired of the party." Rael's voice was flat, but Elias wasn't fooled.

Elias tapped the edge of his knife against the cutting board, eyeing Rael with a knowing smirk. "You've got that look again."

Rael raised an eyebrow. "What look?"

"The 'I just got flamed in chat but can't say anything because I'm on stream' look."

Rael let out a quiet huff, but Elias was already sliding his plated food onto the table, dropping into the seat across from him with an easy grace. He twirled his fork into the pasta, waiting. When Rael didn't say anything, he sighed.

"You ran into Lucian."

Not a question.

Rael dragged a hand down his face. "Yeah."

Elias whistled. "Bet that was fun."

Rael rested his arms on the counter, staring at nothing. "He still hates me."

Elias didn't even blink. "Well, yeah."

Rael shot him a look.

"I mean, come on," Elias said, gesturing lazily with his fork. "The guy's been carrying a grudge longer than most MMOs last. You thought he'd just see you and go, 'Ah, my long-lost friend, let us embrace under the moonlight'?"

Rael exhaled through his nose. "Not what I was expecting."

Elias snorted. "So what did he actually say?"

Rael hesitated. "That he'd get in my way."

That made Elias pause mid-bite. He studied Rael for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before speaking. "Do you think he will?"

Rael frowned. "…I don't know."

Silence stretched between them, weighty but not uncomfortable. Elias took another bite, then leaned back. "You know, it wasn't your fault."

Rael's grip on the counter tightened. "Doesn't change anything."

Elias let out a slow breath but didn't argue. Instead, he pointed his fork at Rael's face. "You look like you need to go kill something."

Rael rolled his shoulders, standing up. "I'm logging in."

Elias gave him a thumbs-up. "Go forth, commit virtual violence. I'll be here, enjoying carbs."

Rael shook his head, already heading for his room.

* * *

Vash'kar's night air was crisp, the city streets illuminated by the glow of arcane lanterns lining the roads. Despite the late hour, players still moved through the bustling district—some haggling with merchants, others heading toward dungeons or guild halls.

Rael stood outside the Eclipse headquarters, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword. He could've gone inside, checked on the guild's progress, or planned their next move. But right now, he didn't want to deal with anyone.

He needed time alone.

His gaze drifted toward the outskirts of the city.

That quest... I never finished it, did I?

It had been some time since he first stumbled upon the abandoned town, only to be turned away by a Paladin of the Order, his strength deemed insufficient.

With no further hesitation, Rael turned and started walking.

The familiar stone paths of Vash'kar eventually gave way to open terrain as he left the walls behind. He passed by hunting grounds where newer players fought beasts for experience, their clashes filling the air with the sounds of steel and magic. The further he wandered, the quieter it became.

Time passed in a blur.

It wasn't long before he reached the Aldar ruins.

The grass beneath his boots thinned, giving way to cracked stone and remnants of old structures. The air around him felt heavier, charged with something unseen.

Rael slowed his steps.

The last time he had come here, he had been forced to turn back.

His level had been too low. The Paladin had warned him.

Now, no one stood in his way.

A soft, heart-wrenching sobbing echoed through the ruins.

Rael's grip on his weapon tightened. His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for the source.

The prompt flickered before his eyes.

[Quest Update: Echoes of the Lost]

Objective: Investigate the abandoned town and uncover the source of the weeping.

Reward: ???

The wind carried a biting chill as Rael stepped forward, his boots pressing against fractured stone. The ruins stretched before him—worn pillars and broken archways jutting from the ground like the skeletal remains of a forgotten era. The sobbing grew louder, weaving through the silence like a ghostly lament.

His gaze swept the surroundings. There were no signs of life—no flickering torches, no movement among the shadows. Just the eerie sound of weeping.

Rael halted.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. His instincts were screaming now—something was here.

The moment he turned, the air shuddered.

A low, guttural wail erupted behind him.

Rael barely had time to react before a spectral figure materialized from the shadows.

Its hollow eyes burned with a sickly green glow, its form flickering between reality and the void. Dark, tattered robes clung to its skeletal frame, and its elongated fingers curled into razor-sharp claws.

Then—

[WARNING: Hostile Entity Detected]

Haunted Spirit – Level 17

Danger Level: HIGH

The spirit lunged.

Rael barely dodged as its claws raked through the air where he had just stood. The force of the missed strike sent a blast of frigid wind against his skin.

He retaliated immediately, his sword flashing toward its torso—

Only for the blade to pass straight through.

His attack met no resistance, cutting through the specter as if it were mist.

"Tch."

A bad matchup.

The spirit let out an ear-splitting screech and vanished.

Rael's muscles tensed. It hadn't died. It was still here.

Then—

A chill crawled up his spine.

Behind.

His instincts flared, and he spun just in time.

A clawed hand lashed toward him.

Rael brought his sword up to block—

Too slow.

The attack ripped through his chest, sending him flying backward. His health bar plummeted as he hit the ground hard, vision shaking.

[HP: 250 → 110]

Pain pulsed through his body. If that had been a direct hit to his head, he would've been dead on the spot.

Rael let out a sharp breath, wincing. "Should've brought my shield," he muttered, staring at his empty off-hand. Would've been real useful about five seconds ago.

The spirit was already moving again.

Rael forced himself up, raising his free hand.

[Holy Aura – Active]

A faint golden glow flickered around him, reinforcing his defenses. It wasn't much, but it would keep him alive.

The spirit lunged.

Rael sidestepped—just barely. Its claws grazed his side, tearing through armor like paper.

His health dropped again.

[HP: 110 → 40]

One more hit would kill him.

His grip on his sword tightened.

No choice.

His free hand clasped his blade, and light flooded its surface.

[Holy Edge – Active]

The silver of his sword became wreathed in radiant energy, golden runes burning across its length.

The spirit reeled back, hissing violently.

It was weak to holy.

Lucky for him—he was a Templar.

Rael stepped in. His sword arced through the air, striking the spirit's form. This time, it connected.

A piercing wail split the air as the ghost shuddered violently, its form distorting where his blade cut through.

But it wasn't over.

The creature lunged again, shrieking, its spectral form twisting unnaturally.

Rael raised his sword high, channeling the last of his strength—

Then brought it down in a clean, decisive arc.

A burst of radiant light erupted from the impact.

The spirit convulsed violently, its form disintegrating into nothing.

[Enemy Defeated: Haunted Spirit]

-Experience Gained.

[HP Restored: 40 → 90] (Combat End Bonus: Minor Recovery)

[Quest Progress Updated]

-You have eliminated a lingering entity. Continue deeper into the ruins.

Rael exhaled sharply, shaking the tension from his limbs. His grip on his sword remained firm, but his breathing was uneven. He glanced at his health bar—90 HP.

A reminder that time dulled even the sharpest edges.

Rael sighed, then activated a basic healing potion, feeling the warmth of restored vitality course through him. His HP climbed back up

He exhaled through his nose, shaking the thought aside. No use dwelling on it. He wasn't dead, and the quest wasn't over. He drank a basic healing potion, feeling the warmth of restored vitality course through him. His HP climbed back up to full slowly.

The sobbing had grown louder.

Rael adjusted his grip on his sword and pressed deeper into the ruins.

The town had long since succumbed to decay. Buildings stood in half-collapsed states, their skeletal remains jutting toward the sky. Faint traces of old murals and carvings lined the walls, their meanings lost to time.

The air had grown thicker, heavy with something unseen.

Then, he saw her.

A woman in white, seated at the center of the ruins. Her form was half-transparent, flickering between solid and ethereal. Long, silvery hair cascaded down her back, strands curling against the ground like mist.

Her shoulders shook violently as she wept.

Rael slowed his approach. His instincts remained sharp, but he didn't raise his weapon. This was the source of the sobbing.

A new notification appeared.

[Quest Progress Updated]

You have found the Weeping Maiden.

Objective: Speak to her.

Rael stopped a few paces away. "You're the one crying."

The maiden stilled.

For a long moment, she didn't move.

Then, slowly, she lifted her head.

Her face was shrouded, an unnatural blur obscuring her features. But even without eyes, he could feel her looking at him.

"Have you come to release me?" she whispered.

Rael hesitated. That was never a good question.

But before he could answer, a new presence seeped into the air.

A low, resonant chanting filled the ruins.

Rael spun around, sword at the ready.

From the shadows of a collapsed shrine, something moved.

A figure emerged, draped in blackened robes with golden embroidery that had long since faded. Its hazy hands gripped a twisted staff, and a mask of cracked porcelain concealed its face.

The air shuddered.

A new notification appeared.

[WARNING: Hostile Entity Detected]

Corrupted Monk – Level 18

Danger Level: HIGH

The monk's head tilted, its masked gaze locking onto Rael. Then—it moved.

The monk's attack carved through the air, a blur of motion. Rael barely twisted his body in time, feeling the wind rush past his cheek as the staff smashed into the ground beside him, leaving deep cracks in the stone.

Fast.

Rael didn't wait. He retaliated, stepping in with Holy Edge blazing along his sword, aiming for the monk's torso. The corrupted figure twisted unnaturally, bending farther than humanly possible, dodging by mere inches.

Then, a sudden counterstrike.

The monk's staff came from below, slamming into Rael's side. Pain exploded through his ribs. His body skidded across the ground, boots scraping against stone. His health dropped sharply—70%… 50%… 40%.

Too strong to fight head-on.

Rael gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright. His hand clenched around his sword. The monk was already closing in, shadowy energy rippling along its staff. Another direct hit could be lethal.

He needed to end this fast.

Rael's gaze flicked to his surroundings—the black stone statue stood behind the monk.

A plan formed.

As the monk lunged, Rael ran straight at it. But at the last second—he dropped low, sliding past the attack. The staff whistled over his head, missing by an inch.

And then—Rael slashed the statue's base with Holy Edge.

The already decayed stone cracked. The structure tilted, groaning as it collapsed directly onto the monk.

A guttural, distorted screech echoed through the ruins as the corrupted figure was crushed beneath the weight of the statue's broken form.

[Level Up!]

You have reached Level 17.

Rael exhaled, barely standing. His health was in the danger zone—just 12%.

He let out a shaky breath, pulling out a potion and drinking it. Warm energy flowed through his body as his health slowly recovered.

"…Damn," he muttered, rolling his shoulder. "I really have gotten rusty."

[Quest Complete: Echoes of the Lost]

You have uncovered the source of the weeping and laid the spirit to rest.

Reward: Cursed Beads of the Corrupted Monk

Rael stared at the object in his inventory. it was a set of beads, darkened with age, their surface cracked and pulsing faintly with something unseen. A dull, almost imperceptible whisper echoed at the edge of his hearing as he held them.

A new screen appeared.

[Cursed Beads of the Corrupted Monk]

Active Effect: Once per day, the beads reveal a single hidden truth.However, truth is a double-edged sword. Not all revelations bring clarity.

Status Effect: After use, the beads seal themselves for 24 hours, and the wielder's Holy power is slightly weakened during this time.

Rael exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as a faint sense of irony settled in.

"A Templar winning because of Holy power… and now getting debuffed because of it," he muttered dryly.

He let out a short, almost amused sigh. Of course it worked out like this.

The weight of the beads felt oddly heavy in his grip, as though something unseen pressed against his palm. He tightened his fingers around them before tucking them away.

At least it wasn't permanent.

Rael opened his guild chat and sent the item's details. Might as well see what the others thought.

It didn't take long before a response came in.

[Leon]: ?? The hell is that? You went off grinding alone??

[Gale]: bro. why are u solo leveling?

[Leon]: No, actually. Why are you SOLO LEVELING!?

[Gale]: without us.

Rael chuckled as their messages stacked up.

A moment later, another one popped up.

[Leon]: logging in.

[Gale]: same. wait for us.

Rael stretched, feeling the tension ease from his muscles. Fine by me.

The night wasn't over yet.