Silence hung heavy in the plundered throne room, thick enough to taste. Tenza shifted on the cold stone floor, the echo swallowed by the emptiness. Polished gemstones, once embedded in the walls, had been ripped out, leaving behind jagged scars that mirrored the anxiety gnawing at her. The only sound was the shallow rise and fall of their breaths, each one a stark reminder of the ticking clock on Godslayer's respawn timer.
Across from her, Luctolome sat with a posture as rigid as the plundered columns. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where the dungeon's treasure had resided, his jaw clenched tight. Tenza recognized him from countless streams and tournaments – his avatar, a warrior clad in immaculate, gleaming armor, an image of perfection. Now, however, a faint crease marred his brow, a flicker of something unsettling in his usually stoic eyes.
Suddenly, Tenza blurted out, unable to contain the question that had been burning a hole in her mind, "What's the difference between us?"
Her voice, small and hesitant, echoed off the bare walls. Luctolome turned his head slowly, his gaze cool and calculating. It lingered on Tenza for a beat too long, making her feel like a fly trapped under a microscope. A nervous grin tugged at the corners of her lips, a fleeting attempt to mask the disquiet simmering within.
Godslayer, who had remained silent since his defeat, despite having party chat open, finally stirred. He shifted slightly, his avatar shrouded in shadow, casting an even deeper gloom over the scene. No words escaped his lips, but Tenza could swear she felt the weight of his gaze settle on her – a heavy, unreadable silence that spoke volumes.
Luctolome finally uncrossed his arms, a slow, deliberate movement. "Practice," he said, his voice flat, "Thousands of hours spent honing reflexes, anticipating strategies. Knowing a dungeon like the back of your hand, even if it's procedurally generated, it follows a pattern." His gaze flickered to the empty spaces in the walls, a flicker of something akin to grudging respect crossing his features for a fleeting moment.
Tenza swallowed, the dryness in her throat mirroring the barrenness of the chamber. "Practice," she repeated, the word flickering a memory of Sensei Leonardo telling her to train. "On good days, train. On bad days, train harder." Her fingers subconsciously tapped against her leg, a nervous rhythm counterpoint to the pounding of her heart. "And what about..." she faltered, glancing at Godslayer's shadowed figure, "What about facing something...unexpected?"
Luctolome's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak. "That's what I want to know as well. He is not even in the leaderboard, he broke my legendary katana with a custom build," he tried to continue but the sound was cut short by a sudden flicker of light. Godslayer's avatar shimmered for a moment, the shadows on his avatar receding, the respawn timer ticking away.
The silence returned, thicker and more oppressive than before. Tenza stole a glance at Luctolome, but his face remained an unreadable mask. The answer hung heavy in the air, partially answered: what was the difference between a pro-player and someone like Godslayer, who seemed to possess an edge beyond mere practice or even someone like her? It was a question that gnawed at Tenza, a mystery wrapped in an enigma that threatened to unravel the fragile truce between them.
Dust motes danced in the fading light filtering through the gaping holes where the once-gleaming gemstones resided. Tenza clenched her fist, a silent celebration of the hidden message she'd secured amidst the chaos. Yet, a hollowness echoed within her, mirroring the emptiness of the plundered throne room.
Godslayer, his avatar now standing again, let out a low sigh that seemed to resonate with the ancient stones. "History repeats itself," he muttered, his voice laced with a weariness that transcended the virtual realm. Breaking the silence, he asked, "Tell me, why are you invading the server?"
Across from him, Luctolome stood rigid, his brow furrowed in frustration. The ease with which Godslayer had dismantled his legendary katana still rankled.
"You surpassed me," he spat, his voice dripping with suspicion. "You're not on the leaderboard. You fight like a veteran, yet your rank is bronze. Explain yourself and I'll gladly tell you what I know."
A short, humorless chuckle escaped Godslayer's lips. He turned towards Luctolome, but his gaze flickered away before making direct contact. "Surpassed you?" he asked, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. "You flatter me."
Before Luctolome could retort, Godslayer continued, his voice devoid of its earlier amusement. "The leaderboards hold no interest for me. My time passed a century ago; I have no right to step into the spotlight now." He paused, then gestured towards Tenza. "As for the true treasure, she holds it now."
Tenza glanced between them, bewildered. Luctolome's jaw clenched tight, clearly stung by the implication. Godslayer's words hung in the air, heavy with a truth Luctolome's intuition seemed to accept, despite defying logic.
Tenza stepped backward, her voice trembling slightly. "It wasn't an artifact or a weapon," she explained, her gaze meeting Luctolome's. "The dungeon itself… it was a message for me."
Luctolome's confusion deepened. "A message? What kind of message?" His voice betrayed a hint of awe, a stark contrast to his earlier annoyance.
Tenza shook her head, unable to articulate the emotions swirling within her.
Godslayer broke the silence once more, his voice a low murmur. "It seems these cryptic messages are popping up across servers. Some call it lore expansion, others… something more. Whispers of a connection to the initial DNA scan, a hidden purpose within the game's core."
Luctolome's eyes widened. He recalled the videos circulating on social media, documenting similar occurrences in other regions. Could there be truth to the theories?
The mystery of the message hung thick in the air, an enigmatic puzzle that defied their understanding. The throne room, stripped of its treasures, now held a deeper secret, one that promised to unravel the very fabric of their reality.
Tenza emerged from the plundered dungeon, blinking as sunlight filtered through the dense canopy. The weight of the message settled heavily on her chest, a secret carried not just within the game, but potentially within the real world as well. The image of the mighty Zipa Nemequene and his ferocious Guecha warriors flashed behind her eyelids—a legacy passed down through a digital whisper. "Muisca code," the voice echoed in her mind, a cryptic puzzle piece that belonged not to the virtual realm they were leaving, but to the life that awaited them beyond.
Godslayer and Luctolome walked ahead, their conversation muffled by the rustling leaves and the chirping of unseen birds. Tenza's gaze flicked between them, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Luctolome's brow furrowed in a deep crease, his shoulders held tight. Godslayer, ever the enigma, remained shrouded in his usual stoicism, but his silence felt heavier than usual.
Suddenly, Luctolome stopped, raising a hand in a silencing gesture. He tapped a command on his menu, and his remote chat crackled to life, displaying a disembodied voice.
Tenza joined them, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She instinctively reached up, her hand clutching at the empty space over her chest, as if grasping the intangible message and anchoring it to her very being.
The voice, cold and impersonal, crackled through the speakers. "Report, Luctolome. What did you find? Was there a message?"
Luctolome's jaw clenched tight. He stole a glance at Tenza, his apprehension mirrored in her wide, preoccupied eyes.
"There was no message at the end," Luctolome finally replied, his voice strained. "Only precious metals and gems. No artifacts either."
A murmur of discontent filtered through the speaker, followed by another voice, faint and indistinguishable.
The disembodied voice resumed, a touch of suspicion creeping into its tone. "No message? That's peculiar. What about the other players you encountered? Godslayer and Tenza… the leaderboard makes no mention of him, yet your companions claim he was a formidable opponent, and Tenza…" The voice trailed off, a hint of amusement replacing the suspicion. "Tenza remains firmly rooted at the bottom."
Luctolome swallowed hard, his gaze darting between Godslayer and Tenza. "I defeated Godslayer and Tenza," he stated, his voice firm but lacking conviction. "They possessed no treasure."
The voice continued its inaudible conversation for a moment before resuming. "Very well. Please submit a written report so we can process your real-life payment. In-game compensation should have already been deposited."
Luctolome opened his menu, his expression betraying a mix of bewilderment and unease. "Yes, I have received ten thousand gold coins," he confirmed.
The call ended with a click, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Luctolome stared at his menu, a frown etched on his face. Tenza remained lost in thought, her hand still pressed against her chest. Only Godslayer seemed unaffected, his gaze scanning the surrounding forest with a practiced eye.
"Back to the island," he finally declared, his voice low and urgent. "We've been compromised."
Luctolome looked up, his confusion evident. "Why? They're paying me handsomely, both in-game and real-life. Ten thousand gold coins and fifty thousand euros… that's a fortune!"
Godslayer shook his head, a hint of a wry smile playing on his lips. "They're not paying you for the dungeon," he said. "They're paying you for our information. We are being watched."
The revelation hung heavy in the air, as heavy as the secrets Tenza carried within her. A new question gnawed at her: why would anyone pay so much for the newly discovered regions? For their information? Luctolome stayed, but Godslayer and Tenza teleported back toward the safety of Godslayer's island. Luctolome, intrigued by the cryptic message's absence and the hefty payment, sent friend requests to both Godslayer and Tenza.
The teleport shrine on the island shimmered, depositing Tenza and Godslayer onto the familiar, sky-kissed shores of his island. The rhythmic crash of clouds against the rocks contrasted sharply with the tense silence hanging between them. Tenza's gaze lingered on the Muisca Kogi tattoo on her shoulder, a physical reminder of her ancestral heritage.
Godslayer avoided her eyes. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated as he paced back to his workshop, his back hunched under an invisible burden. The setting sun cast long shadows, stretching them across the ground like accusing fingers.
Tenza sank onto a weathered log, her eyes fixed on the mesmerizing dance of the clouds. A pang of loneliness twisted in her gut, stark against the warmth of the message nestled within her, the smell of ozone filing her lungs. Godslayer's silence was deafening, a wall he often built around himself, yet this time, it felt laced with something deeper—regret.
He stopped pacing, his silhouette stark against the fiery orange horizon. "They paid him handsomely," he finally spoke, his voice rough with unspoken emotions. It wasn't a question but a statement, bitter and accusatory.
Tenza remained silent, her gaze unwavering from the sky horizon. The sound of the clouds seemed to carry away any need for words.
Godslayer let out a humorless scoff. "Silence speaks volumes, doesn't it?" He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture steeped in frustration and dishevelment. "I suppose a few thousand coins are worth more than the truth, in the game and real life."
Tenza finally turned towards him, her voice gentle but firm. "Silence doesn't mean betrayal, Godslayer. It can mean understanding." Her eyes held a quiet empathy, a silent acknowledgment of the internal storm raging within him.
He flinched at the mention of his name, a flicker of pain crossing his features. But it was quickly replaced by hardened resolve. "Understanding? How can you understand a man who lives in the shadows, who carries burdens you can't even begin to comprehend?" His voice cracked slightly, betraying a vulnerability he usually fought hard to conceal.
Tenza rose from the log, her movements slow and deliberate. She moved closer to him, stopping just out of reach, respecting the invisible barrier he often erected. "I may not understand everything," she said softly, "but I can learn. I can be here." She didn't reach out to touch him, her respect for his boundaries evident.
Godslayer met her gaze, surprise flitting across his eyes. Then, a slow, hesitant smile played on his lips. "Here? In this lonely existence, surrounded by secrets older than time itself?"
Tenza shook her head, a strand of wind tracing a path across her hair. "Not lonely," she whispered, her voice barely a tremor in the cloud's breeze. "Maybe… maybe a little less alone."
The setting sun dipped below the horizon, cloaking the island in a veil of twilight. In the deepening shadows, a silent understanding passed between them. Words were unnecessary. The weight of their shared experience, the secrets they carried, and the uncertain future stretched before them—a bond forged not in words, but in shared solitude.
The familiar scent of ozone, a metallic tang heavy in the humid air, remained. Yet, the beauty of the sky-kissed shores blurred at the edges of her vision. A wave of dizziness washed over her, leaving her legs weak and wobbly. Daemon's digital voice, usually calm and reassuring, now crackled with urgency, cutting through the sounds of the crashing clouds.
"Warning: Emotional overload detected. Unregistered user at risk of breakdown. Disconnect or system will initiate forced disconnection in 3 minutes."
Tenza blinked, her vision filled with flashing red warnings that overlapped the image of Godslayer pacing restlessly, his back hunched like a brewing storm cloud. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic counterpoint to the digital countdown. She needed to stay, to offer him the silent comfort he needed. Yet, the overwhelming weight of the message, the tension with Godslayer, and the strain of the virtual world threatened to pull her under.
Godslayer finally stopped, his silhouette sharp against the fiery horizon. He turned, his gaze landing on her swaying form. Recognition flickered across his face, followed by concern that softened his features. He rushed towards her, his movements quicker than usual, fueled by worry.
"Tenza? What's wrong?" His voice, usually clipped, held a tremor of urgency, mirroring the time Firelez crumbled and disconnected.
Tenza reached out a hand, her fingers trembling as she gripped his arm for support. "I… I think I need to…" The words caught in her throat, choked by the rising tide of dizziness.
Godslayer's eyes widened as he saw the red warnings shimmering around her. Understanding dawned on him. "The DRD," he breathed. "It's pushing you to the limit."
He didn't need to say more. Tenza knew he understood. This wasn't just about the virtual world; it was about the emotional toll of everything they had experienced. A wave of gratitude washed over her. He wasn't angry; he wasn't accusing her of weakness. He saw this as a necessity, not a betrayal.
"Go," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Rest. You need it." He squeezed her hand, the gesture brief but genuine, a silent thank you for the solace she had offered him. "Think about Ho-Jin's riddle tomorrow. Occupy your mind with something else."
Tenza fought the urge to protest. She wanted to stay, to face whatever storm brewed within her friend together. But the red warnings intensified, pulsing insistently at the edges of her vision. Her body swayed, and the world began to tilt precariously.
Reaching towards him, she managed a weak smile, a silent promise to return. Before she could voice the question that burned on her tongue, the world dissolved into a swirling vortex of colors and lights. The DRD, with its cold efficiency, had chosen for her.
Godslayer watched her disappear, a flicker of worry lingering in his eyes. He stood there for a long moment, the silence broken only by the rhythmic crash of the clouds. But on his lips lingered the ghost of a smile, a genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He hadn't been wrong to trust her, to let her into his world. They were a team, forged in the crucible of this virtual world and the magical place of the guayacán, and their bond, though tested, had only grown stronger. He turned and walked towards his workshop, the setting sun casting long shadows, but Godslayer no longer felt alone in this twilight.