Amidst the pulsing energy of the Nexus, Fiona stood—a mere breath away from the coveted World Championship Cup. Its polished surface gleamed, tantalizingly close yet impossibly distant. She felt unworthy, her mortal hands trembling, fingers yearning to brush against its crystalline curves. Impossible bosses had fallen before her, but this? This was a different battle altogether—the clash of dreams against reality.
Sky, the enigmatic man who had traversed realms, stepped forward. His eyes shimmered with ancient wisdom, wielding knowledge like a blade. With a flourish, he projected the leaderboard: 300 million players, and she, the unknown, languished at the abyss of rankings. Her dream—once luminous—now seemed a fragile wisp, fading in the shadow of statistical insignificance.
But then, a twist—Sky shifted focus to the Latin American server. A smaller pond, perhaps, but still vast: 30 million players. She remained last, but hope stirred within her. "Now," he said, his voice steady, "your dream sheds its impossible skin."
He dissected her aspiration, laying bare its sinews. "Desire," he intoned, "is your compass. It will steer you through tempests, past naysayers, beyond the mundane." His gaze pierced her, as if reading her very soul. "Do you truly want this cup?"
Her throat constricted, words caught in a tempest of emotion. The cup—majestic, reflective—seemed to mock her. Its surface distorted her image, a stark reminder of her mortality. Yet Sky persisted, weaving threads of memory and magic.
"In my time," he murmured, "world championships were grand festivals—a symphony of nations converging. A song echoed through stadiums: 'This cup is the cup of life.' Love and honor, they said, must fill its hollows." And suddenly, the Nexus—the cosmic keeper of dreams—responded. Images flickered: roaring crowds, sweat-soaked jerseys, and fireworks painting the sky.
Sky leaned closer, his voice a fervent whisper. "Fight," he urged, "as if your daughter's heart beats within you. Imagine your victory and her laughter echoing across continents." The cup ceased to be mere metal; it transformed into her grail, her quest. Strength surged—a metamorphosis. She was no longer a single mother; she was a champion-in-waiting.
"The cup," he whispered, "will bless you, but first, dream yourself into existence." His hands rose, mimicking champions of yore. And there, amidst the scent of fireworks and echoes of past championships, she glimpsed her path—a collision of worlds, a crescendo of purpose.
In that charged moment, Fiona vowed: She would fight, not for herself alone, but for love, honor, and the connection with her daughter. The cup—once unattainable—now pulsed with life. As her gaze met Sky's, she whispered, "Yes, I want it. I want to change my destiny."
Sky's voice rang out like a clarion call, "Then etch your name upon it. As the song says, reach the cup of life because your name can be on it. But to reach it, you need to fight for it—imagine that you're fighting for your daughter, her heart to win."
Sky continued, "Let's talk about the competition, Fiona. To get to the World Championship, you'll need to know who you're up against."
He gestured to the leaderboard, highlighting Akan first, his avatar a sleek warrior poised for battle. "Akan is the number one player on the North American server. He's quick and clever, with a reaction time of 150 milliseconds. A force to be reckoned with. You'll need to outsmart him if you want to rise through the ranks."
Fiona's heart raced as she absorbed the information, the weight of her ambition pressing down on her.
Next, Sky pointed to Aein's avatar, a dazzling figure radiating confidence. "Then there's Aein, the queen of the Asian server. She's not just a gamer; she's a global idol. Her tactical prowess is unparalleled, and she has the charisma to back it up. Winning against her will be no easy feat."
Fiona felt a pang of self-doubt but quickly pushed it aside.
Sky switched to show Straya's profile, a hulking figure clad in impenetrable armor. "Straya is the strongest in terms of defense. He can absorb attacks that would wipe out entire playfields. He's like a wall you'll have to break through."
Fiona swallowed hard, envisioning the colossal challenge ahead.
Finally, he revealed Chulo's avatar—a shadowy figure lurking at the bottom of the top 5, enigmatic and elusive. "And Chulo, he's the top player in Latin America. Stealthy, always waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He plays like a rat, avoiding confrontation until he sees a clear opening. But he's smart; he knows he can't face the world stage directly yet."
Sky's tone shifted as he mentioned Pulverizer, the ultimate challenge. "And then there's Pulverizer, the undefeated champion for three years. He's the only one who can surpass all of them at the same time. And here's the kicker—he's the son of the Grand Master of the Lodge of Edinburgh."
Fiona's eyes widened, the connection clicking into place with chilling clarity.
"This isn't just a game, Fiona," Sky said, his voice low and intense. "If you can win, the Lodges of the world will see their plans for a controlled society crumble. Your real-world battles echo here, in Eschenfrau."
Sky pulled up a new interface, displaying a convoluted path to the championship. "To qualify for the World Championship, you'll first need to reach the top two of the Latin American server. Once you do, you'll face Chulo in a 1v1. If you win, you'll enter a battle royale against the others, and then finally, you'll get your chance to take on Pulverizer."
He looked at her seriously, his gaze unwavering. "Are you capable of facing them all at once? Because that's what it will take to win."
Fiona felt the weight of the challenge pressing down on her, a suffocating realization of her current limitations. "Not yet... I can't do it alone."
Sky smiled reassuringly, revealing her full training schedule, a lifeline amidst her fears. "That's why I'm here. Once you recover, I'll send you to your real-life training. It'll be intense, but you'll have Firelez guiding you in the game while I help you in reality. Also, at night, Sensei Leonardo will keep training you."
He paused, sensing her trepidation. "Your daughter will return to Bucaramanga. She'll be safe for a full year, under protection. But you need to prepare for what's ahead."
Fiona nodded, a mix of hope and fear swelling in her heart as she contemplated saying goodbye to Camilla.
As they finished their discussion, Fiona took a deep breath, knowing she had time to say goodbye. Sky added, "For now, recover. You have time to enjoy the game while learning from Firelez and Sensei, but here you will have to calculate time differently."
Sky continued, "You know, Fiona, in gaming, milliseconds can mean the difference between victory and defeat. Your reaction time—the moment it takes to press a button or move a joystick—is like the time it takes light to travel in space. Most players hover around a reaction time of 250 milliseconds, but the pros? They can shave it down to 175 or even 150 milliseconds. In this game, your thoughts reach your virtual body in those precious moments. Your ability to think swiftly will dictate how quickly you navigate challenges and discover solutions."
He paused, locking eyes with her, his gaze piercing. "There's a player you'll face—Akan from Jamaica. His reaction time is an astonishing 150 milliseconds, nearly at the edge of human capability. To him, the game flows with a fluidity that feels almost unreal. Imagine that as a form of time dilation in real life. The faster you move, the slower time seems to pass for you. To everyone else, Akan's reactions appear impossibly rapid. But for him? It's just a natural rhythm."
Sky took a moment, his excitement bubbling over. "Now, consider the speed of light—186,000 miles per second. That's the ultimate reaction time. In space, things dart past at incomprehensible speeds. Here's the kicker: when you approach that velocity, time begins to slow down for you. Just like in the game, when you push your limits, you enter a zone where time stretches, and the world around you becomes a blur."
He smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. "That's called time dilation. The faster you move, the more time bends around you. It's akin to Akan in the game—his speed warps the perception of time for everyone else. But if you push yourself, if you refine your reaction time and tactics, you can match him."
As he walked past her, he spoke with a newfound intensity. "When we travel to the stars, it's not about hours or days like on Earth. Out there, time is measured in light years—the distance light travels in a year relative to our ship. Picture the game world, like Eschenfrau. You might think you're simply walking or flying, but those distances? They're nothing compared to what lies in space."
He gestured expansively at the vastness of the Nexus. "In the cosmos, we measure time by how long it takes light to traverse from one point to another. Rate times time equals distance—it's the formula that governs everything beyond our atmosphere. You're not merely moving through levels; you're navigating entire realms of time and space. The sooner you grasp this, the better equipped you'll be when we embark on our journey to the stars."
Sky pulled up Akan's avatar on the leaderboard, highlighting his rank as number one on the North American server. "Akan isn't just fast; he's the fastest player in the world, both in reality and in the game. No one moves like him. His reaction time surpasses most people's thoughts, and you'll have to face him if you want to claim the cup. He plays as if he's bending time to his will. To stand a chance, you'll need to match his speed—not just in gameplay, but in the swiftness of your mind."
Sky's expression darkened momentarily as he mentioned Pulverizer. "And then there's Pulverizer, who is even faster. He's a wall of relentless pressure, one you can't ignore. The odds seem insurmountable, I know."
Fiona's heart sank at the thought of facing such formidable opponents, feeling the enormity of the challenge wash over her. Doubt gnawed at her, and she opened her mouth to voice her fears, but then she caught a glimpse of Sky's smirk—a glimmer reminiscent of the exiled god when he appeared in Tartarus for Bayron's trial. There was something in his eyes, a glimpse of an uncharted future that she couldn't quite see yet.
Sky's smirk faded, replaced by a fleeting shadow of sorrow. "I've faced the void alone, Fiona. When I was lost, I had no one to rely on. I don't want that for you. I want to be the mentor I needed back then." His tone softened, laced with vulnerability. "I'm willing to help you chase this dream, no matter how impossible it seems. You have potential, a spark I didn't have at your age. I believe you can achieve this."
He stepped farther, sincerity radiating from him. "It won't be easy, and you'll face challenges that will test your very limits. But I'll be with you every step of the way, guiding you through the darkness. Together, we'll prepare you for the stars."
As the Nexus fades from view, Fiona finds herself standing on Sky's island, a serene yet vibrant place where the rustling of leaves and the hum of magic fill the air. Towering trees surround them, their glowing trunks radiating aura magic, while the scent of damp earth and pine fills Fiona's lungs. The island feels alive, and at its heart is Sky's workshop.
In the center of the clearing, Firelez is hunched over a large, intricate blueprint, his gauntlet-clad left hand hovering over it as a strange compass points steadily in Fiona's direction. A half-constructed artifact lies on the table before him—a sleek, elongated weapon with an angular frame that pulses with latent energy. Fiona can't shake the feeling that she's seen something like it before in a classic game, but the name eludes her, hovering just out of reach in her memory.
Sky exchanges a firm handshake with Firelez, their grip radiating the camaraderie of brothers-in-arms. "I'll get the parts you need," Sky says, casting a glance at the mysterious weapon without elaborating. Firelez nods, his sharp eyes catching Fiona's curiosity.
"Hello, Tenza," Firelez greets her warmly, his voice carrying a hint of fatigue but also hope. "I hear you're preparing for the World Championship. I'm glad to see it—you're aiming high." He pauses, his gaze growing distant. "My former students... they once aimed high too, before the betrayal. That was when the server invasion began." Tenza remembers the weight of that moment, the chaos and heartbreak that followed.
Firelez gestures for her to follow as they leave the workshop and the island behind, moving through the forest where the trees' auras blend into a soft, steady glow that lights their path. He leads her to a ridge overlooking a massive construction site where Sky works tirelessly. In the distance, tracks of shimmering light stretch across the landscape, forming an incomplete yet grand railway system. Sky, a lone figure among the vastness, wields a set of tools while managing the aura from nearby trees to power the construction.
"This is the Aura Railway," Firelez explains. "Sky's building it to connect the world of Eschenfrau, so new players can travel and experience its beauty without relying on teleportation shrines. Most players only care about speed, about getting to the dungeons to farm loot. But this railway? It's about the journey." He looks at Sky with a mixture of admiration and sadness. "Not many players understand the aura magic system, so Sky took it upon himself to build the railway here on the Nifay continent. Alone."
Tenza watches as a group of players on their mounts rush past, laughing and mocking Sky as they gallop toward the distant dungeons. They throw jeers over their shoulders about how Sky is wasting his time, yet he pays them no mind, focused entirely on the task at hand. The aura around him pulses gently, fueling the railway's glowing tracks as he connects another segment, ensuring its permanence in the game world.
"He has to finish each part before it becomes invulnerable," Firelez adds. "If he doesn't, other players can destroy it. That's why he works so fast, without resting. He's learned to ignore the ridicule. No one wanted to create this system because of how complex aura magic is, but Sky volunteered."
Fiona turns to Firelez, a question forming in her mind. "Did you bring me here to help him?"
Firelez chuckles softly. "No, Tenza. I brought you here to observe. Sky's not just building this railway—he's teaching you how to face the kind of players you'll meet in the World Championship. Those gankers? They'll target you, swarm you, try to drag you down. You need to learn how to engage them, how to disengage when necessary."
He points down at Sky, who now stands amidst the half-finished tracks. "Sky's learned to fight off multiple opponents in classic MMOs. He knows how to handle groups, how to pick his battles. Watch him closely, Tenza. You'll need those skills soon."
Tenza studies Sky as he works, the aura around him shifting subtly as he prepares for the inevitable disruption from hostile players. There's a calm focus in his movements, a confidence that comes from years of experience. She can't help but notice that even though Sky looks exhausted—likely from his real-life battles against angels and demons—there's a peace in his work here, a contentment that shows despite the challenges.
As she stands beside Firelez, the scent of the forest and the hum of the aura magic all around, Tenza feels a mix of admiration and uncertainty. The task ahead seems insurmountable, and yet, in Sky's tireless dedication, she sees a spark of hope.
Firelez turns to her, his expression softening. "This is why I brought you here, Tenza. Not just to train—but to learn how to fight, to disengage, and most of all, to endure."
Amidst the ancient trees, their leaves whispering secrets, Tenza perched on the hill's edge, her gaze riveted below. The forest—the very fabric of aura magic—stirred, tendrils of emerald energy weaving through the air. And there, in the heart of this mystical wilderness, Sky toiled.
His hands, calloused from battles both corporeal and pixelated, moved with unwavering purpose. The magical railway—a sinuous ribbon of luminescent tracks—snaked through the underbrush. Each pylon he erected stood as a sentinel, its roots entwined with the earth, a solemn promise to the forest, built with reverence for its sanctity.
But shadows crept. A rider materialized—a phantom astride a midnight steed. The horse's eyes glowed like dying stars, and its breath hung frosty in the air. The rider observed, silent as moonlight, before vanishing into the foliage, a spy reporting back to unseen masters.
Sky sensed the ambush. His tools—wrenches, chisels, a pickaxe, and arcane gauges—lay scattered. He abandoned them, drawing forth a greatsword—an heirloom from the Abyss Guardian. The forest murmured its approval; it knew his intent—to defend its heart against marauders who sought to sunder the tracks and desecrate its purity.
And they came—a motley crew of seven. Axes swung, lances thrust, and energy shapers conjured bolts that crackled like vengeful spirits. The pylons groaned, their magic strained. Sky danced on the precipice of chaos, deflecting blows with the grace of a waltz, parrying with the precision of a master duelist.
But he had a strategy—the audacity to target the healer first. The players, accustomed to predictable tactics, blinked in disbelief as Sky's blade cleaved through the healer's defenses. The healer crumpled, and the forest exhaled—a sigh of relief.
Now, the remaining six circled him—combatants, each armed with unique skills: warriors with brawn, mages with incantations. Sky's eyes narrowed, reading their intentions; the combatants' souls laid bare before him.
The axe-wielder lunged. Sky sidestepped, striking the mage behind him. Magic fizzled, and the mage stumbled into the lance-wielder, their spells colliding in a burst of iridescent sparks.
The energy shapers—arrogant wielders of raw power—fired bolts. Sky zigzagged, disrupting their aim. He spun, his greatsword whistling through the air, severing their connection to the ley lines. Their magic sputtered like dying stars.
The closest warrior—blade gleaming—charged. Sky met him, their clash echoing through the forest. Steel sang, and the warrior staggered, disarmed.
The mage, desperate, invoked forbidden runes, but Sky anticipated their intent—their proximity betrayed them. He deftly deflected the spell, redirecting it toward the remaining attackers. They staggered, allies turned foes.
And then, silence. Sky stood amidst fallen leaves, chest heaving. Seven opponents lay defeated—bruised egos and pixelated wounds. His greatsword leveled at them, defiance etched in every line of his face.
"In my time," he declared, voice steel and memory, "gankers were titans who fed us fear—strategists, poets of chaos. You?" He swept his gaze over their crumpled forms. "You are nothing but feeble attempts at villainy in this game."
The forest rustled—a collective applause. The magical railway thrummed, its tracks intact. Fiona watched, heart pounding, as Sky sheathed his blade. He'd defended more than a railway; he'd safeguarded dreams—the forest's and his own.
"Now it's your turn, Tenza," Firelez said, rising to her side. "But you will start with PvE. You're not ready for PvP yet."