The Tyrrhenus continent stretched before Tenza like an endless painting—its mist-covered mountains and crashing seas fading into the horizon. It was a world unknown to her, unfamiliar but enticing. The wind carried the tang of salt and mystery, an invitation to a city that beckoned from the ocean's depths: Okkus. The game reflecting her real life yet again.
Firelez walked beside her, his usual calm unchanged, though something about him seemed different here. The sea air made him appear more at ease. His gauntlet-clad hand twitched occasionally, towards her, and his sharp eyes swept the cliffs that descended to the city's shimmering shores.
"Welcome to Okkus, capital of the Sea People," Firelez said, his voice cutting through the roar of the ocean. "You'll feel their magic soon enough. The flow of water... it's not like anything you've ever experienced. Here, magic is movement. As natural as breathing."
Tenza's eyes followed his gaze toward the crystalline city rising from the sea. Its towers curved like waves frozen in mid-motion. Water was everywhere—cascading through aqueducts interwoven with the streets, pouring from interconnected spires, and powering the city's mechanical marvels. The people moved in harmony with the water, their hands guiding the currents with subtle gestures. It was a symphony of motion, as effortless as the tide itself.
She watched a woman gracefully lift a column of water from a fountain with a simple twist of her wrist. The water danced in the air, spiraling into intricate forms before collapsing back with a splash. No incantations, no barriers—just the sea's rhythm, woven into magic.
"Looks easy," Tenza remarked.
Firelez nodded. "It is—if you understand the sea. That's the key to Tyrrhenus' magic. It mimics the waves. Control the flow, and the power follows."
As they walked deeper into the city, Tenza overheard players talking, their voices tense with the undercurrent of something ominous.
"...Did you see that over the Vatican? They said it was a movie ad…"
"A movie? That didn't look like a stunt—military, maybe? Government's hiding something."
"Religion's falling apart. If they can't protect the Vatican…"
Tenza's attention sharpened at the mention of the Vatican. Sky's battle still rippled across the world. Some thought it was a clever hoax, others whispered of more sinister truths. The idea that it might've been real—a cosmic battle hidden beneath layers of conspiracy—seemed absurd. Yet...
She glanced at Firelez, but his expression remained neutral.
"Doesn't matter what they believe," he said quietly. "The truth's out there, but people cling to what's easiest. Mr. Sky's fight... it's shaking things up."
His words lingered as they neared the heart of Okkus, where artisans and traders showcased their goods, suspended in columns of water that spun and gleamed in the light. Above, bridges of water connected spires, where players and NPCs moved effortlessly, carried by streams they controlled with mere flicks of their hands.
But the serene beauty was shadowed by a sense of unease. Sky's battle had left its mark not just in the real world, but here too, among the players.
Firelez guided her to the outskirts, where the city's architecture grew darker and the ocean's waves crashed with more fury. The sound was louder here, as if warning of danger.
"We're close," Firelez said, his voice dropping as they approached a grand staircase spiraling into the earth. "This is the Necropolis of Kas Gur."
A chill ran through Tenza despite the warmth in the air. The Necropolis loomed before her—a place where countless players had fallen and triumphed, their shadows still lingering in the abyss. Her HUD flickered with a new notification: "Entering the Necrohova of Kas Gur. Planetary Chronicles Updated."
"This is where you'll train," Firelez continued, his voice steady. "You've heard of battle royales. This is similar, but there's no safe zone. No rest. The dead don't sleep here. They wait."
Tenza's pulse quickened as she opened the journal entry:
In the shadowed depths of Okkus, where the abyss weighs heavily on all who enter, whispers tell of beings more sinister than mere ghosts of fallen warriors. These were not just restless souls, but echoes of legendary adventurers, whose prowess had once bested the treacherous Necrohova. Their shadows roam the desolate city, haunting reminders of victories carved in darkness.
Yet one name stands above them all, feared even among the boldest: the Angel of Death, a lone conqueror who had achieved the impossible by mastering the Necrohova unaided. Clad in spectral armor that absorbs the shadows around him, he moves with deadly grace. His presence signals doom, a silent promise to those who hear his steps—they are already prey.
Even the most seasoned raiders, undaunted by Kas Gur's dangers, shudder at the thought of encountering him. The Angel of Death is more feared than Ardor, the Sunken King who sits upon the Necrohova's throne. Within the Grand Colosseum, Ardor welcomes warriors as they clash for their final battle, yet the Angel of Death lurks always, watching from the shadows, an overseer of death itself.
Tenza exhaled slowly. She had fought digital battles, but this felt different—an ancient weight pressed upon her. The legacy of those who had fallen, the looming shadow of this Angel of Death, whose presence was woven into the very fabric of Kas Gur.
"The shadows here," Firelez hesitated, eyes narrowing. "They're not just memories. They evolve. The stronger the player, the stronger the shadow. And Godslayer…"
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"Godslayer was the first to conquer the Necropolis alone. No teams. No backup. His shadow remains, and it's not like anything you've faced. It moves like him. Thinks like him. If you're not ready, it will destroy you."
Tenza's stomach churned. Facing Sky's shadow—a perfect reflection of his power and tactics—was daunting. Yet, this was what she sought: to face the impossible, to rise beyond fear.
She met Firelez's gaze and nodded.
"Let's go in."
Firelez's lips curved into a smirk. "Not yet. We're just two—we'll wait for others."
As they waited in the shadow of the Necropolis, the roar of the ocean became a steady backdrop to the silence between them. Firelez leaned back against a nearby wall, eyes glinting beneath his hat.
"You know," he began, breaking the quiet, "surviving the Necropolis isn't about raw strength alone. It's about timing. Strategy. You have to understand your team—trust them. Without synergy, you're dead weight."
Tenza frowned, shifting her grip on her katana, Chia. "Synergy? I have no idea how to create it."
Firelez chuckled. "That's exactly the problem. Going solo might work against lesser enemies, but this... this is different. Every shadow here remembers its past life, its tactics. They're not mindless NPCs. Without understanding your team's strengths and weaknesses, you'll be caught off guard, no matter how skilled you are."
He gestured toward the cliffs. "Dungeon mechanics here are like waves. Timing is everything. If you move too soon or too late, you'll drown. It's not just about reacting fast, it's about anticipating. Think ahead—what will the enemy do next? What will your teammates need? A healer can't save you if you charge in blind, and a tank's shield won't matter if you can't create openings."
Tenza nodded slowly, digesting his words. In her solo fights, it had always been instinct—relying on her reflexes. But here, in Tyrrhenus, that wouldn't be enough.
"So how do I learn to... sync up with my team?" she asked.
Firelez raised an eyebrow. "You watch. You listen. And most of all, you adapt. Synergies aren't just about roles—they're about understanding how others think. A good strategist doesn't just know their own moves—they know their allies' as well."
He paused, eyeing Chia at her side. "That katana… you're not ready to wield it fully, are you?"
Tenza's grip tightened around the hilt. Chia was powerful, but she hadn't mastered its full potential. It felt like it held secrets she couldn't yet unlock.
"No... not yet," she admitted. "But I'm trying."
Firelez's gaze softened. "The blade's waiting for a master, not just a warrior. It's not something I can teach you. You'll need to find someone who can."
Tenza's brow furrowed. "Sky? Could he—"
Firelez cut her off with a shake of his head. "Mr. Sky's no master of Niten Ryu. In his own words, he's a humble student, nothing more. He'll refuse to teach you, but he knows where you can find a real master."
Tenza's heart sank slightly at the thought. Sky was a force of nature, someone she looked up to, but even if he couldn't guide her in mastering Chia...
Seeing her unease, Firelez gave her a reassuring nod. "You'll find your way. Trust in that. The blade will call to the right teacher when the time is right."
They stood in silence for a moment longer, the wind carrying the scent of saltwater, and the distant hum of Okkus filled the air. Tenza felt the weight of what lay ahead, but also the excitement of what she could become.
As they waited for the others to join, Firelez motioned toward a small pool of water nearby, where the currents swirled and shimmered. "Tyrrhenus magic is… different. It's about flow, like I said. Control comes from your connection to the world—and to yourself."
Tenza knelt by the pool, her reflection staring back at her, distorted by the water's movement. She extended a hand over it, attempting to channel the magic Firelez had spoken of. The water barely stirred.
Firelez crouched beside her, his voice soft. "You're still thinking like a fighter. Here, it's not about force. It's about feelings. Magic responds to emotion, to your inner self."
Tenza closed her eyes, trying again. She thought of the mist-covered mountains, the sea, the endless world before her. But nothing seemed to connect. The magic remained elusive, distant.
Her frustration began to rise when a sudden image flashed in her mind—Camilla, her daughter, much younger. The memory surfaced of them playing together in the rain, Camilla's laughter ringing in the air, the droplets splashing around them. It was one of the few moments in Fiona's chaotic life that had felt whole, complete.
As she focused on that memory, the water beneath her hand began to respond. It swirled gently, forming delicate ripples, then lifted slowly into the air, dancing in rhythm to her thoughts. The connection came naturally, as if the water understood her feelings.
Tenza's eyes opened wide in surprise. Firelez watched, smiling faintly. "There it is. The magic flows strongest when it's tied to something real—something meaningful."
Tenza's breath caught. Camilla. She was always in her mind, but she believed that her focus needed to be on the battles ahead. And here, in this world, her daughter was her greatest strength.
"The most powerful magic," Firelez said quietly, "comes from what matters most to you. The sea people understand that. You'll master it in time but remember—it's not about controlling the elements. It's about what you're fighting for."
Tenza let the water fall gently back into the pool, her heart beating faster. Her mind raced with this new understanding. Her power came from more than just her skills, her weapons—it came from her love, her connection to her daughter, even if broken. That was her true source of strength.
She stood, feeling more grounded than she had in a long time.
Firelez rose beside her. "You're learning fast. But in the Necropolis, it won't just be magic or emotion that saves you. It'll be how well you work with your team. You'll need to synchronize with them, create bonds, and trust that each of you can cover the other's weaknesses."
Tenza nodded, her mind still buzzing with the realization. She was starting to understand that her journey wasn't just about mastering the blade or fighting alone. It was about finding strength in others and herself—both in her skills and in the love she carried for Camilla.
As others began to arrive, the weight of the coming battle settled in. But now, she felt a little more ready.
Tenza noticed the first wave of players arriving. Some already formed parties, their gear gleaming with mid-level enhancements, their steps confident. Others, less organized, hovered near the edge, nervously seeking companions or finalizing last-minute arrangements for their parties. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of excitement and dread, as they all prepared to face the depths of Kas Gur.
Firelez remained still, leaning on the wall, watching the groups assemble. His eyes scanned the players, but he made no move to approach them. Tenza shifted beside him, wondering why he seemed so passive.
"Shouldn't we…?" she began, motioning toward the bustling players.
"Mr. Sky taught me something about instances like this," Firelez said calmly, his voice steady amidst the chaos. "There are always left-overs. Players who don't get chosen for teams—underdogs, under-leveled. Like you."
Tenza frowned, but before she could respond, a group of well-equipped players spotted Firelez. Recognizing his signature gear, they approached, their eyes wide with recognition.
"Firelez!" one of them called, grinning. "Man, it's an honor! You're leading a raid here?"
Another player nudged forward, practically beaming. "We could use someone like you on our team. You'd make this run a breeze."
But Firelez only shook his head, polite but firm. "Not this time."
More players gathered around, drawn by his reputation. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but Firelez remained steadfast in his refusal. Despite his fame, he wasn't here for the strongest or the best. He was here for something else.
Tenza watched, intrigued. "Why don't you just join them? They're all top players."
Firelez glanced at her with a faint smile. "That's not the point. In these dungeons, it's the ones who are left behind that often have the most to prove. And sometimes, they're the ones who make the biggest difference."
As he spoke, a lingering question nagged at the back of Tenza's mind. She had been on other instances, where invaders from the other servers were a constant threat, monopolizing dungeons and terrorizing weaker players. But here, in this Necropolis, there was no sign of them. No invaders lurking in the shadows, no enemy guilds laying traps. It was…strangely peaceful.
"Why aren't there invaders here?" she asked, her curiosity finally surfacing. "They're everywhere else on the Latin American server, monopolizing dungeons. Why is this one free of them?"
Firelez's smile darkened, his eyes shifting toward the distant shadows of the Necropolis. "That's because of Godslayer's shadow. The Angel of Death."
Tenza's pulse quickened at the name. "Sky…?"
Firelez nodded, his voice lowering. "When invaders tried to claim this dungeon, they encountered it. Godslayer's shadow wiped entire teams. Word spread quickly, and they stopped trying. No one wants to face it again."
A chill ran down Tenza's spine. Godslayer wasn't just a name here—he was a force, a legend. But even beyond that, Firelez added something else, something more pragmatic.
"This is also a high-level dungeon. Even when players come here, they wouldn't be able to fully traverse it. They can handle the entrance mobs, maybe collect a few drops from the weaker enemies, but the deeper they go, the stronger the dungeon becomes. Without proper preparation, they wouldn't stand a chance."
Tenza absorbed his words, her mind racing. She had known Sky was powerful, but this… It was on another level entirely.
As more players formed up into their teams, Tenza scanned the crowd, her eyes catching on a pair sitting off to the side. A healer, hunched over with a custom-made holy staff that looked well-used but distinctly low-level. Beside him sat a woman, her fingers tracing the string of her bow, also low-level, though clearly of standard quality—nothing special.
They both wore tired expressions, almost resigned, as if they were preparing to head back to the city, having been passed over by every other party.
"Firelez," Tenza said, nudging him subtly. "What about them?"
Firelez followed her gaze and nodded slightly, his eyes softening. "They've been waiting a long time. Almost gave up, by the looks of it."
As the healer and the archer stood, clearly preparing to leave, Firelez took a step forward. "Hey, you two."
They froze, eyes wide with surprise. The healer turned first, his grip tightening on his staff, and the archer beside him stood straighter, her eyes growing large with recognition. "Firelez?!" the healer exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. "You—y-you're… talking to us?"
The archer's face lit up in disbelief, her previous melancholy vanishing in an instant.
Firelez smiled, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. "If you're up for it. We need a healer, and your staff looks like it's seen some action. And you," he nodded at the archer, "your bow might be low-level, but I've got a feeling you know how to use it."
The healer's eyes practically sparkled as he exchanged glances with the archer. They couldn't believe their luck. A party with Firelez, of all people?
"Y-yes! Absolutely!" the healer stammered, his joy almost contagious.
The archer gave a wide grin, nodding eagerly. "We won't let you down."
Tenza watched the interaction, her chest swelling with a sense of quiet pride. Firelez could have picked the best players in the field. But he hadn't. He had chosen the ones left behind, the ones no one else wanted.
As their new party formed, Firelez turned back to Tenza, his eyes glinting with the wisdom of someone who had seen many battles. "Now, let's show them that underdogs can fight, too."
As they approached the entrance to the Necropolis, a palpable chill descended, wrapping around them like a cold, invisible hand. The air grew heavier with each step, a foreboding sense of unease prickling at their skin. The gates, towering and fashioned from corroded metal, loomed like the jaws of some ancient beast, half-submerged in the murky waters that whispered of the city's watery grave. Vines of bioluminescent kelp draped over the archway, their eerie blue-green glow casting ghostly shadows that flickered and danced in the faint, otherworldly light.
The path leading to the gate was littered with the remnants of ancient battles—broken weapons, shattered armor, and the skeletal remains of players who had dared to enter, only to meet their game over. Each step they took echoed ominously in the oppressive silence, swallowed by the thick darkness that seemed to cling to the very stones beneath their feet.
The closer they drew, the more the whispers began. Faint at first, like the sigh of the wind, but soon growing louder, more distinct. The voices of long-lost souls, their sorrowful murmurs rising from the ground beneath them, weaving tales of despair and warning. The weight of the centuries-old curse that clung to Kas Gur pressed down on them with each passing moment, thickening the air, making every breath feel like a struggle against the suffocating gloom.
Before them stood the gates, dark and foreboding, the final barrier between them and the cursed city beyond. As they stared into the shadowy depths of the Necropolis, the oppressive weight of the city's tragic history bore down upon them, and an unsettling presence seemed to linger just beyond the threshold. Something was watching. Something ancient and malevolent, lurking in the shadows, marking them as prey.
Tenza felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, a chill running down her spine. This was no ordinary dungeon. The Necropolis was alive in its own terrifying way, a labyrinth of death and despair that had claimed countless players, never to return here. And now, it was their turn to face whatever horrors lay within.