Child of Destiny

"Halt! This is Silversky Town. State your business. Where do you come from?"

Their quest had failed before it had even truly begun. The entire contingent of players was stopped cold at the gates of Silversky Town, blocked by a squad of guards whose hands rested on their sword hilts, their faces etched with suspicion.

A wave of frustration rippled through the players. Their objectives were all inside the town, but these guards were clearly not just decorative set pieces. They looked grim, alert, and spoiling for a fight.

What the players didn't know was that this was highly unusual. Ordinarily, the guards of Silversky Town were a study in lethargy, waving travelers through with a lazy hand or, at worst, shaking down obvious merchant-types for a nominal "gate tax." After all, Silversky was a destitute border town with nothing worth stealing. Who would possibly trouble themselves to attack it?

Their uncharacteristic diligence today was owed entirely to the whims of a certain unscrupulous lord who was, at that very moment, enjoying the unfolding drama from the comfort of the mayor's manor.

The players huddled together, murmuring softly among themselves.

"We're all human, why are they stopping us?"

"Dude, look how many of us there are…"

"I heard Silversky Town is part of the Frostfell domain. It's private territory, so they probably can't just let outsiders in."

"I say we just fight our way in. There are hundreds of us."

One of them cast an inspection skill at the guards.

[Name: Max]

[Identity: Silversky Town Guard]

[Power Level: Swordsman Lv. 6 (1-10)]

[Equipment: ???]

[Skills: ???]

[Threat Level: Normal]

The five guards were all similarly matched: three swordsmen, a shield-bearer, and an archer, none of them higher than level 10. After a quick huddle, the players reached a consensus. They could take them. The guards' gear looked standard-issue, and while their levels were higher, they were drastically outnumbered.

Just as the more aggressive players were about to surge forward, Riven pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

"I am a knight of the Griffin family," he announced, his voice carrying an aristocratic authority. "I have brought my retinue to pledge service to the Earl of Frostfell."

The guards exchanged uncertain glances. A knight with a retinue this large looked less like a supplicant and more like an invading army. Still, they'd heard of House Griffin—a fallen noble family from the county's borderlands. Minor or not, they were still nobility, far above the station of a town guardsman.

They scrutinized Riven. His handsome face, his faintly contemptuous gaze that seemed to look down on everything, and the ornate, almost gaudy filigree etched into his otherwise standard-grade armor…

Their suspicions placated, the guards bowed stiffly and stepped aside, clearing the path into Silversky Town.

As the players followed Riven through the gates, their swagger returning, the chat was abuzz.

<Damn, the protag has serious pull. What's his background?>

<He said he was from the Griffin family. Must be a big deal. Wonder how they stack up against this Earl of Frostfell.>

<We should look into it later. Man, having status is nice. The guards didn't just let us pass, they bowed.>

<How do you get a noble title? I want to try getting one.>

Riven walked at the head of the procession, a feeling of profound satisfaction washing over him.

He was the chosen heir of the Valerius dynasty—a prodigy born into a lineage that had secretly cultivated paragons of human combat for generations. Bathed in the glow of countless accolades since birth, he had already proven himself invincible against the scions of other dynastic families. Before he'd even turned twenty, his skills already rivaled those of the world's reigning Grandmasters.

Riven never played video games, because his own life felt like he was playing with cheat codes enabled.

He had assumed his life would continue on this boring, unbeatable trajectory forever. Until two days ago, when a mysterious entity found him.

Riven had never experienced anything like it—a will of cosmic proportions. Before its immense pressure, he was an ant facing a tidal wave that could swallow the sky.

This vast consciousness informed him that he had been chosen for a mission: to spearhead an invasion into a new world.

Invade a world? The thought sent a jolt of pure excitement through him. He had grown so tired of the world he already owned. The endless compliments, the worshipful gazes, the women who threw themselves at him, the invincible power, the inexhaustible wealth… it was all so tedious. A true warrior's destiny was not to rule one world, but to conquer many. This was a mission worthy of his talents, a thought that made his blood sing.

He was then brought before another great will, but this one felt different. It was faint, weak, like a dying star. The two entities seemed to reach an agreement, and the weaker will bequeathed to Riven a beautiful, pulsating crystal before fading into silence.

The mysterious entity explained that the crystal would serve as a nexus, a bridge between the laws of his world and this new one. The fundamental laws were too different for a direct crossing.

For now, humans from his world—Earth—could only be summoned in a special state to serve as the main invasion force. The entire game was the delivery mechanism for this grand summoning ritual.

Riven understood immediately. The humans were being summoned as players, sustained by the energy of the Continent of Destiny to invade it, while Earth itself remained safe and shielded from risk. He, Riven, would serve as the anchor, the beacon that allowed the players to manifest in this world.

Of course, such a gift came at a price. By accepting the godhood of the dying will—a goddess named Silvana—Riven also inherited her vendetta. He was now bound to help her beastkin people reclaim their glory and to make the Pyrian Empire pay for its transgressions in blood.

This was hardly a problem. The moment he laid eyes on the Saintess, Lena, he had already decided she would be his. Aiding her cause would only serve his efforts to conquer the heart of a girl so perfect no words could describe her.

The only point of frustration for Riven was the power drain. Due to the lack of energy, his true power, equivalent to a level 40 master, had been suppressed to a mere level 11.

As compensation, however, he had been granted three opportunities to unleash his original strength, a daily precognition ability, and a suite of top-tier skills gifted directly by the dying goddess.

Gazing at his own spectacular character panel, Riven couldn't suppress a supremely confident smile.

[Name: Riven]

[Identity: Child of Destiny, Civilian]

[Power Level: Knight Lv. 11 (11-20)]

[Skills: Radiant Cross Slash, Purify, Aura of Glory, Aegis of Sanctity, Grandmaster of Combat]

[Destiny Skill 1: Breakthrough (Charges Remaining: 3)]

[Destiny Skill 2: Precognition (Charges Remaining: 0)]

[Equipment: The Fool's Ornate Armor (Masterwork), The Fool's Ornate Longsword (Masterwork)]

[Reputation (Pyrian Empire): 1 (Your existence is known)]

[Reputation (Beastkin Clans): 22 (A new arrival)]

I wonder who in the Pyrian Empire already knows of me, Riven mused. I only arrived yesterday. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. He was the Child of Destiny. It was only natural that he would already have enemies and admirers. He would have to get used to it.

He turned to the throng of players. "Disperse into squads of five and canvas the town. If you find any enslaved beastkin, begin rescue operations. Report to me if you encounter any special circumstances."

He, too, had a panel. It allowed him to issue quests and advance the players a small amount of energy—experience points. In return, he could skim a twenty percent tithe from all the energy they generated to strengthen himself.

Riven had already used his precognition for the day and knew the rough outline of the coming "plot." As the protagonist of this game, his role was simple: reap the rewards and make a grand entrance at critical moments. The grunt work was for the players.

...

"Quest log updated! LFG, need a group!"

"Three Mages, LF2M, need Warriors!"

"Hey, can we borrow one of your Mages?"

...

Not all players, however, were so quick to join the fray. A few were lone wolves. Anxious_Waffle was one of them.

She wasn't here to grind quests. She was here as a traveler, to soak in the sights and sounds of a new world. For her, the thrill of exploring the unknown and uncovering its mysteries was the entire point of the journey.