•••••
Player#42069
NAME: John Smith.
PLAYERS ELIMINATED: 4
ASCENSION ORBS: 0
HP: 1410
MP: 1410
•••
[STATS]
VITALITY: 141
STRENGTH: 141
INTELLIGENCE: 141
AGILITY: 141
DEXTERITY: 141
AVAILABLE STAT POINTS: 0
•••
[SKILLS]
PLAYER EXCLUSIVE SKILL: Gacha Fusion.
COMMON: Spit.
UNCOMMON: Thunderstrike, Nebula Mirage, Savage Surge, Bloodhound's Mark, Circlet of Revitalization, Quantum Arsenal, Phantom Shroud, Ricochet Mastery.
RARE: Arcane Firearm Mastery, Spectral Annihilation.
•••••
As the first rays of morning light pierced the sky, casting a golden glow upon the Fortress of Dawn, Wan stood outside the towering walls, the newest addition to the base's workforce. With determined eyes, he set out to make his mark on the landscape. Wan possessed a unique gift, a mastery of magic that he channeled into the earth beneath his feet.
With meticulous care and unwavering focus, Wan began to cultivate a sprawling plantation of crops, each seed sown with purpose and intent. Unlike conventional farmers who toiled under the constraints of nature's whims, Wan wielded the power of magic to accelerate the growth of his crops, ensuring a bountiful harvest with unmatched speed and efficiency.
Day after day, Wan labored tirelessly, his hands moving with the grace of a seasoned artisan, coaxing life from the fertile soil. The land responded to his touch, yielding to his will as he nurtured it with ancient incantations and whispered spells. In his hands, the earth became a canvas upon which he painted a masterpiece of abundance and prosperity.
As the base's territory expanded, the need for increased patrols led to a surge in the number of subordinates tasked with securing the perimeter. High above, Vuha and Dayanara circled the skies, their vigilant eyes scanning the landscape for any signs of danger.
Dayanara's majestic dragon, Deragon, accompanied her, his massive wings slicing through the air as they cast imposing silhouettes below.
Meanwhile, down on the ground, John sat comfortably on a weathered wooden chair, observing Wan diligently tending to another set of crops.
"Thanks to Wan's dedication," John remarked, taking a sip of refreshing fruit juice, "we can rest assured that our crop yield will remain plentiful, ensuring the sustenance of our community for the foreseeable future."
With Wan's unwavering commitment to agriculture, the base could thrive amidst the challenges posed by its expanding borders.
Under the sheltering canopy of a majestic oak, John reclined in his chair, basking in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the emerald leaves.
Sharon, his steadfast companion, stood vigilantly by his side, her eyes fixed intently on him, a silent guardian in the tranquil scene.
Beside them, a living suit of armor, adorned with verdant foliage, orchestrated a gentle breeze with its massive leaf, enveloping John in a comforting embrace of nature's soothing touch.
Each element of the tableau seemed to harmonize, creating an atmosphere of serene protection around John, as if the very earth itself conspired to shield him from the world's troubles.
As John gazed up at the sky, the silhouette of Deragon, the majestic dragon, captivated his imagination. "Dragon Rider is undoubtedly a rare class," he mused aloud, his curiosity piqued. "I wonder what other classes in the Character Gacha are considered the rarest."
Taking a leisurely sip of his fruit juice, John couldn't help but smile at the delightful taste that danced across his palate. The cool, refreshing drink provided a welcome respite from the day's adventures.
Meanwhile, Sharon observed John with a warm smile, her heart swelling with contentment at seeing him enjoy the juice she had lovingly prepared. Her affection for him radiated from her eyes, silently conveying her happiness at being able to bring him joy.
As John pondered the rarity of certain character classes, a voice echoed within his mind, breaking the tranquil moment. "The rarest classes are Hero and Dark Lord," Dawn's voice resonated in his thoughts. "Obtaining even their common versions is an exceedingly daunting task, to the extent that I doubt anyone has successfully summoned either of them yet."
John nodded approvingly at Dawn's insightful answer. Sensing a need for change, he shifted the topic of conversation. With a languid stretch of his arms, he remarked, "The tranquility of these past few days is almost unsettling, don't you think?" His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of impending unease.
Before anyone could respond, a sudden interruption shattered the serene atmosphere. Kageko materialized beside John with an unexpected urgency. "My lord," she intoned, her voice carrying a sense of urgency that cut through the tranquility like a blade.
Startled, John leapt from his chair, his heart racing at the unexpected intrusion. "Mother of the sweet summoner of Heroes and Dark Lords!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and reverence.
Unfazed by John's outburst, Kageko regarded him with a serene expression, her head tilting ever so slightly as if silently assessing the situation.
John's demeanor shifted from surprise to one of authority as he cleared his throat, his expression morphing into one of determination. With a firm hand placed on his chest, he took a slow, deliberate breath, straightening his posture. "What is it that you require, Kageko?" he inquired, his voice steady and commanding.
A moment of hesitation passed before Kageko responded. "We have an unexpected guest," she revealed, her tone measured. "And this visitor is seeking an audience with you... on peaceful terms."
John's brow furrowed in contemplation as he absorbed the news. "A visitor?" he echoed, his mind racing through the possibilities. "Very well," he finally conceded, his voice firm yet tinged with curiosity. "Lead the way."
Despite relishing his rare moment of relaxation, John abruptly abandoned it, compelled by a sense of duty to venture out to the far reaches of the base.
With purpose in his stride, he made his way towards the main gate, where he found a group of his subordinates patiently awaiting his arrival.
Among them stood Mark, who respectfully approached John and greeted him with a bow, addressing him with reverence as "My lord."
On the fortress wall's exit, John exchanged a nod with Mark, their silent communication speaking volumes of their unspoken bond. Shogun, Allan, and Migul flanked them, their stalwart presence a testament to their shared resolve.
As they stood overlooking the vast expanse beyond the fortress, John's gaze fixed on the approaching figures in the distance.
Mark's voice, barely audible over the rustle of the wind, conveyed a message laced with caution. "A Player, my lord," he murmured. "He claims to seek a peace talk, proposing an alliance."
John's laughter echoed against the stone walls, a cynical response to the notion of unity in a world rife with deception. "Alliance," he scoffed, his tone tinged with skepticism. "In this realm, alliances are but fragile illusions, easily shattered by the blade of betrayal."
With a firm resolve, John prepared to engage in the delicate dance of diplomacy, mindful of the hidden agendas that lurked beneath the surface. For on the edge of their fortress, where the line between friend and foe blurred, trust was a luxury they couldn't afford to blindly extend.
With his mask firmly in place, John strode purposefully towards the group of visitors, his subordinates trailing behind, ready for any situation that may arise. Among the visitors were ten members, one Player, and nine of his summoned characters. Their gaze shifted to John as he approached, their curiosity evident in the way they scrutinized him.
Despite the tension in the air, John maintained a calm demeanor, his mask concealing any hint of apprehension he may have felt. He knew that this encounter could determine the course of events to come, and he was determined to handle it with finesse. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders as he assessed the group before him, each member radiating a distinct aura of power.
As John drew nearer, he could sense the energy crackling in the air, a silent testament to the gravity of the situation. His subordinates stood ready, their muscles tensed, prepared to spring into action at a moment's notice.
A figure stood out amongst the crowd. His presence commanded attention, not just for his aristocratic aura but also for his striking appearance. With dark red hair cascading in waves around his shoulders and piercing gray eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets, he exuded an air of mystery and refinement. His alabaster skin spoke of privilege and nobility, accentuated by the fine craftsmanship of his tunic clothes that draped elegantly over his frame.
As John approached, the man turned his attention towards him, a gentle smile playing upon his lips. Unlike his subordinates who stood at a distance, armed and vigilant, the man seemed unarmed and at ease, a testament to his confidence in his own abilities. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, a palpable sense of anticipation as the two men regarded each other, each silently assessing the other's intentions.
With a nod of acknowledgment, the subordinate of the visitor took a step back, granting them the space they needed for their conversation to unfold without interruption.
[Player (7).]
The visitor bowed with a dignified grace. "Greetings, my friend. Earl Grey, ruler of the Red Hair Fortress, at your service." His smile, soft and captivating, swayed like a gentle breeze. "Meeting a fellow human of such distinction as yourself is a pleasure indeed." With a graceful gesture, he extended his hand. "May I inquire as to your name?"
"I am John Smith, ruler of the fortress of Dawn." John's posture stiffened as he crossed his arms. "Let's dispense with pleasantries. What is it that you seek from me?"
Earl nodded, acknowledging John's directness. "Ah, a man of action, I see." He straightened his stance. "I come on behalf of the Foxtail Coalition, as emissary to our empress." Raising both hands in a gesture of sincerity, he continued, "Rejoice, John Smith of Dawn, for our empress, the illustrious Fivan, has recognized your potential and desires your allegiance to her burgeoning empire."
John's scoff echoed through the room, his lips curling into a mocking smile. "So, she's already sent you after me, huh?" He unfolded his arms, his gaze piercing through the tension. "And you, one of her esteemed right-hand members. What exactly are the privileges of being in her inner circle?"
A heavy silence settled, tension thickening the air.
John's smirk widened. "And what's it like being part of her harem?" he remarked sarcastically, emphasizing the word.
Earl's expression darkened at the mention of the word. "Let me make one thing clear, referring to our alliance as a mere harem is profoundly disrespectful." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Nevertheless, our empress has instructed me to exercise patience with you. She believes despite your stubborn nature, you possess qualities that could benefit our cause."
John's expression darkened, his voice dripping with disdain. "Your empress should have heeded my warning to cease all contact with me," he declared, his tone cold and unwavering. "I have no intention of aligning myself with your coalition or submitting to her authority. Firstly, I refuse to be subordinate to anyone. And secondly, I have serious doubts about her trustworthiness. That woman is a glaring warning sign."
Earl's brows furrowed, his gaze hardening. "You speak with audacity, young man. Do you not comprehend the gravity of your words?" he cautioned, his voice tinged with warning.
A smirk played on John's lips, his eyes glinting with defiance. "If my message hasn't gotten through to you yet, allow me to reiterate," he retorted sharply, his words laced with venom. "I am explicitly instructing you and your empress, with her penchant for harems and sly maneuvers, to steer clear of me. Or face the consequences."
"Consequences?" Earl echoed, a challenging edge to his tone.
John stood unwavering, his hand deftly retrieving his Flintlocks from his Quantum Arsenal. Each metallic click as he armed himself resonated with the resolute gravity of his words. "Or else this will happen," he thundered, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade forged in the fires of defiance.
Beside him, his stalwart subordinates mirrored his unwavering resolve, assuming battle stances with a unity forged in the crucible of shared purpose.
Across the bleak expanse, Mark emerged, his hammer a thunderous testament to unyielding strength, while Migul's blade danced with furious flames, a scorching symbol of indomitable will. Even Shogun, with his silent demeanor, conveyed his readiness with a subtle adjustment of his katana, a silent promise of impending reckoning.
In the distance, a sound akin to the primal roar of a dragon reverberated through the stillness, a portent of the impending tempest.
Earl, once revered as a figure of authority, now stood back with disbelief etched into the furrows of his brow. "You are disobeying the sacred rule that shields envoys," he accused, his voice trembling with the bitter sting of betrayal.
John's smirk remained unyielding, a defiant monument in the face of encroaching chaos. "I don't. I am a despicable soul, yet I hold reverence for that unspoken decree," he retorted, his words dripping with venomous disdain and twisted amusement. "That's the sole reason your heart still beats within your chest."
Earl's countenance contorted with seething fury, his once gentle demeanor now a tempest of madness. "This is blasphemy!" he thundered, his voice resonating like the toll of a doomsday bell. "You dare to defile the name of our empress. Such insolence demands swift and severe retribution!"
John's laughter reverberated through the crowd, sending shivers down Earl's spine and unsettling his subordinates. His laughter, tinged with madness, filled the space with an eerie tension that seemed to suffocate the air.
With a dramatic flourish, John covered his eyes with his palm, adding a theatrical flair to his menacing demeanor. As he slowly lowered his hand, his gaze locked onto Earl, radiating an unmistakable aura of arrogance and defiance.
"Punish me?" John's voice dripped with contempt, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "I dare you to try." His words carried a chilling undertone of menace, accompanied by a piercing stare that conveyed his intent to inflict harm. "And as for your precious empress," he sneered, "tell her not to underestimate me. I'll dismantle her empire piece by piece, leaving nothing but ruins in my wake. I'll tear apart everything she holds dear."
With a swift, fluid motion, John aimed his flintlock directly at Earl, the weapon poised to strike at a moment's notice, a silent but potent threat hanging in the air.
With irritation and rage burning in his eyes, Earl stormed away, his subordinates trailing behind like obedient shadows. "I will ensure that Empress Fivan receives your message," he spat at John, his tone laced with warning. "There is no one my empress cannot conquer. She will come for you."
John watched them retreat, his expression unreadable, until their silhouettes dissolved into the distance. As the tension eased, he lowered his flintlock and let out a long exhale. "That was quite the diplomatic exchange," he remarked casually. "Surprisingly smoother than anticipated."
"It seems you're not keen on the idea of forming an alliance, my lord," observed Mark.
"You'd understand if you ever crossed paths with Fivan," John replied darkly. "That woman is a spectacle of madness. I recognize insanity when I see it. It takes one to know one."
John strode confidently back into the heart of the base, his footsteps echoing off the walls. Mark met him with a knowing nod, acknowledging John's rationale. "Indeed," Mark murmured in agreement.
With a firm tone, John elaborated on his stance, his words dripping with conviction. "Alliances, my friend, are a double-edged sword. They may promise strength, but in reality, they breed betrayal. Forming such pacts only renders me vulnerable, leaving my back exposed to potential foes lurking in the shadows," John explained as he meticulously stowed away his flintlocks in the Quantum Arsenal.
His gaze hardened as he continued, his resolve unwavering. "I'd sooner face the entire world as adversaries than risk the treachery of supposed allies. For at least in open enmity, there lies a clarity that allies, with their hidden agendas, could never offer. I refuse to gamble with my life on such precarious alliances."
John came to a halt, his gaze sweeping over the characters trailing behind him. Each one awaited his command with unwavering loyalty, their anticipation palpable in the tense air. With a deliberate motion, John unfastened his mask, revealing a countenance etched with determination and resolve.
"Another war looms on the horizon," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of inevitability. "But fear not, for we stand united, stronger than ever before. This time, our adversaries form a formidable coalition, but they are not our equals. They are merely obstacles on our path to dominance." A sly grin crept across his face, igniting a fervor in his followers' hearts. "Together, we shall crush them, leaving nothing but rubble in our wake. For every battle we win, we emerge more powerful than before."
With that, John strode purposefully through the gates of their stronghold, leaving his comrades to exchange eager glances brimming with anticipation. For under his unwavering leadership, they knew no foe could stand against them, and victory was inevitable.
As the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting warm hues across the Heartbound townhall, Fivan stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The soft light caressed her striking features, illuminating the determination in her eyes. With a graceful movement, she closed her eyes, relishing the gentle touch of the wind on her skin and the rustle of her long, auburn hair.
Her five vibrant orange fox tails swayed behind her, a silent testament to her otherworldly nature. Turning her attention to the figure kneeling before her, she watched Earl, his expression a mix of frustration and simmering anger.
"He refused?" she asked, her voice calm but tinged with disappointment.
Earl nodded, his jaw clenched with suppressed fury. "Yes, and he had the audacity to mock you right in front of me. Such insolence is unforgivable. I should have struck him down then and there," he said, his words dripping with venom as he recounted the encounter.
As Fivan tenderly ran her fingers through Earl's hair, a sense of tranquility enveloped him. Her touch was gentle yet firm, a soothing balm to his raging emotions. The fury that had ignited in his eyes gradually dissipated like wisps of smoke in the wind.
"I anticipated his reaction," Fivan remarked with a serene smile. "He is indeed quite obstinate. The allure of power can cloud one's judgment, but I have transcended that phase of my life."
Earl bowed his head even lower, his determination shining through his submission. "Empress, grant me permission. Allow me to besiege his stronghold and deliver him to you, vanquished and humbled. Let me mete out justice to John Smith in your name, ensuring he understands the consequences of his hubris."
Fivan reclined on her ornate wooden desk, the fading sunlight streaming through the windows casting a warm glow on her elegant figure. Crossing her long, slender legs, she leaned back, a contemplative expression gracing her delicate features. With a soft sigh, she brought her hand to her chin, her perfectly manicured nails grazing her skin as she gently bit her lower lip, a subtle sign of her intrigue.
"So, his name is John Smith," she murmured, her voice laced with curiosity as her eyes sparkled with interest. "A man with eyes as empty as the void, devoid of any semblance of emotion. Like a starless night sky, cold and indifferent."
Across the room, Earl observed Fivan's fascination with John, a simmering resentment bubbling within him. His gaze narrowed with jealousy, his own desire for Fivan's attention burning fiercely in his heart.
Fivan turned to him, a seductive smile playing on her lips as she regarded him with an air of amusement. "Earl, my dear," she purred, her voice dripping with allure. "Bring him to me, alive. But if need be, I don't mind if he's left shattered, a broken vessel for me to toy with."
A wicked grin spread across Earl's face as he straightened, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Consider it done," he declared, his voice dripping with malice. "I'll ensure he's broken beyond repair, but death will not grant him mercy, even if he begs for it." With a confident stride, he exited the room, leaving behind an atmosphere thick with intrigue and sinistral intent.