Klade was back in the other castle where he was before, and Asura was waiting for him, his tail wagging.
"Klade!" Asura hopped on Klade's shoulder.
Klade rubbed him, "I'm back. I almost got fucked up back there."
"Impossible! Really?!"
"Yeah but I killed that thing. Whatever it was. Kinda looked like you, but creepier. He resembled the family in those paintings."
"That's creepy…"
"It is."
'That bastard had no health bar, and I couldn't see his stats…'
He kept thinking about the other players on the ground crying and bleeding out, and how they kept saying this was real.
'This is just a game. Magic doesn't exist. Only technology. They're just very good at role playing.'
Klade asked Asura, "So they're still messing with this door, trying to get It open?"
"Yep. Everyone's looking everywhere."
"Then we should continue where we left off; the paintings. Before I was summoned, I figured it out. There's perks to having maxed intelligence stats."
"Without ME?! WE'RE A TEAM!"
"I THOUGHT YOU KNEW TOO, DAMMIT!"
They returned to the enigmatic door. Klade approached the runes, now looking at them through the lens of family dynamics and roles depicted in the art.
Orsik said, "Got worried you logged off." He gestured towards Klade.
Klade nodded, "I got summoned to the other castle. Apparently they ran into a little mini boss. I took care of it."
All of the other players said:
"No fair!"
"They got a boss before us?!"
"We haven't fought in here yet!"
"I should've gone into the other one."
Seraphina commented, "It matters not. We cannot turn back now."
Zenith adds, "Exactly. We are the first of the first to experience this DLC expansion of Shadow Lance Online. We should enjoy every second of it."
Locke rolled his eyes, "Enough with the heroic speeches. Can anyone open this door?"
Klade walked towards the door, saying, "What if these runes need to be aligned to show their roles within the family?" Klade speculated, his hands moving across the cool surface of the door, adjusting the runes to match the hierarchy shown in the paintings. "In the order of the paintings, and where they all stood and what they were doing, it correlates with the runes on the door. Each rune represents each member—."
Orsik said, "But there are hundreds of paintings of those family members. How do you know which one to use?"
"Knowing royalty, the main family is the heart of the entire kingdom and family branch. Each painting surrounds the middle painting, which shows the royal family." Klade then grinned, "Go ahead and clap for me. I know I'm a badass."
Seraphine smiled, "Very well done. Wanna join our guild now?"
Klade scoffed, "NO!"
Seraphina, Orsik, Locke, and Zenith yelled at Klade, "JUST THINK ABOUT IT, DAMMIT!"
The runes began to glow softly under his touch, pulsing slowly as if acknowledging the correctness of his actions. As he placed the last rune in alignment, there was a deep, resonating click, and the mechanism within the door unlocked, the runes bursting into a vibrant light. The heavy doors swung open silently, revealing a vast throne room bathed in white light. The walls and high pillars were adorned with the same opalescent stone seen throughout the castle, casting a warm, welcoming glow. Klade, Asura, and the others stepped inside, their eyes widening in awe. There, around a majestic throne, stood the family from the paintings.
The main family.
The old man, his white hair and beard glowing softly, sat regally upon the throne, his golden eyes piercing as they surveyed the newcomers. Beside him stood the younger man in a white robe, his dreadlocked white hair and dark gold eyes giving him a formidable presence, enhanced by the mysterious red tattoos that seemed to pulse with his every breath. The woman, equally regal, her hair cascading like liquid light, wore a crown of golden crystals that shimmered with an ethereal brilliance. And the little boy, his hair tied back in a ponytail, wore a simple white suit, his youthful face alight with curiosity.
As they stood there, a palpable sense of power filled the room, eerie yet awe-inspiring. The players felt a chill run through them, an unspoken fear that seized their hearts, though they couldn't understand why. Everyone, that is, except Klade and Asura, who remained calm, grounded by the connection they had uncovered through the paintings and the door.
"What the…"
"This feeling…"
"I wanna log off now…this shits getting too real…but I love it!"
Klade said to Asura, "Hey."
"Yeah."
"You sense it?"
"These guys…those are the ones who were waging war with the demigods in the old world."
"Why didn't you say anything back then?"
"Those paintings didn't detail them perfectly, and they wore different clothing, but now that I have a better look at them..they're dangerous. Really dangerous. And back then, I didn't get a great look at them, just a couple seconds glimpse."
Klade thought, 'I still can't read their stats! Tch. Fucking annoying.'
Orsik said, "Hey! Do we fight them?!"
Locke got ready, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm fighting."
Seraphina said, "Calm down everyone. It may be a quest. Allow me."
Seraphina walked forward, smiling and holding out her hand, "Hello. We are adventurers, what is your name—?"
SHIIIINK!
Blood splattered all over the floors, walls, and in the air, and Seraphina's head rolled onto the floor, but her body fell to the other side.
She was dead.
The players exclaimed:
"That looked too real!"
"I got blood on me!"
"They went all out with the gore this time!"
"Fuck! We gotta fight them!"
Klade watched Seraphine's lifeless body, remembering the other players in the other castle.
'It's not real…it's not real…it's not real…'
Locke said, "Seraphina!"
Zenith stated, "Take them down!"
Klade said, "Don't!"
Orsik turned around to Klade, "Are you out of your mind…? Look what he's done..! He doesn't even have a health bar! None of them do! This is fishy! That looked too real!"
"It's not real!"
Asura growled, stepping in front of Klade to protect him.
Klade kneeled down, rubbing Asura's head, "Easy boy…"
Asura growled, "They're dangerous, Klade. They're gonna fight."
"Shhhh. Let me think."
'What's wrong with me?! I was so arrogant before, easily wanting to fight? But now I feel weak? Like back then…like in school…when all I ever wanted was to just be happy and feel strong for once. If not in the real world, then the game world would have to suffice. It's gotten as bad to where I began to hate my own self and love my game character more. Why? Because he was too damn strong. And now you mean to tell me I have to feel like my real self in a game where I love myself best?!'
The old man's gaze, sharp and penetrating, seemed to reach into the very souls of those before him, assessing their worth, their courage. His presence commanded silence, and the throne room fell eerily quiet, the only sound the gentle humming of the runes on the now-closed door. No one dared move, the scene frozen in time, as the legacy of the family in the paintings stood imperiously before them, their history, power, and mystery enveloping everyone in a silent awe. The adventure, it seemed, was just beginning.
The grandeur of the throne room, once filled with awed silence, was broken by the resonant voice of the old man seated regally on the throne. His piercing gaze softened slightly as he began to speak, his tone imbued with the gravity of centuries.
"Royalty," he began, his voice echoing off the marble walls, "is not merely a title nor a position held. It is the embodiment of the will to protect and govern the realms, the duty to sustain and guide the lineage, and the power to judge and discern the faithful from the faltering."
He gestured gracefully towards the two imposing figures by his side. "These are my sons—Vardan, whose strength secures our frontiers, and Eiren, keeper of our lore and wisdom." Both nodded solemnly, their appearances as stark and formidable as their responsibilities.
Turning slightly, he then indicated the ethereal woman beside him, "And here stands my cherished daughter, Seraphelle, the light of our dynasty, her counsel like the radiant dawn that dispels the shadows of uncertainty."
The old man paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle among the crowd before him. His next words came as a whisper, yet they carried a piercing clarity. "I am Rothgar, Sovereign of the Ethereal Veil, guardian of its ancient legacy. King of the new world, and the future father of the firstborn avatar. This land is in my hand, to where my other family are spread out as the new Demi-gods. Making the Lunarelle family name immortal."
As he declared his name, a ripple of terror swept through the players. The atmosphere thickened; the very air seemed to compress around them as they struggled with the realization of their plight. This was no ordinary game. The ornate details of the room, the palpable power radiating from the figures before them—it was overwhelming, to the point where reality itself seemed questioned.
Klade dropped to one knee, thinking, 'Get up! Get up! Fight! Am I scared? Do I actually think this is real…? Do I not want to die?! In the real world I wished for it a lot, to put an end to my own depression, and that's when I found the game and I felt like my life had a new meaning. Am I not fighting because I feel like there's still hope I can have a better life? Even in the real world?! Agh! Why am I even thinking about all of this now—!'
Asura licked Klade on the side of the face, and Klade gasped, "Asura."
[Asura has used the "Familiars Embrace" skill, which causes the pet to make their owner slightly content using mana, and opens the door for an slight 30% increase in intelligence and agility]
"Your anxiety is getting bigger than your head."
The players, their faces white with horror, began to succumb to the fear gnawing at their bravery. One by one, they clutched their chests, dropping to their knees as the oppressive might of Rothgar's words bore down upon them.
Rothgar's gaze swept over the assembled crowd, his eyes reflecting a depth of command and sovereignty that was almost palpable. "Behold," he intoned, his voice resonant with authority, "the power vested in true rulers, those destined to keep the equilibrium of worlds. For we don't know why you otherworlders are here, but we'll be sure to get rid of you all forever."
No sooner had his speech concluded, Vardan and Eiren moved. With the speed of comets, they dashed through the crowd. Light, sharp and blinding, trailed in their wake—a whirlwind of celestial force unleashed with lethal precision.
The scene turned chaotic and brutal instantaneously. Screams rent the air, a horrific cacophony that mingled with the visceral sound of rending flesh. Eiren and Vardan, embodiments of their father's will, were relentless. Their movements were both beautiful and terrifying—each strike executed with a precision that was almost surgical, leaving trails of light that lingered like the afterglow of stars.
[ERR0R]
[ERR0R]
[ERR0R]
Red system screen windows glitched all over the place, and at that moment, Rothgar saw those screens.
"What sorcery is this?"
He slashed them with just his hand with a chop, and the system windows shattered like glass.
Klade was on one knee still, frozen in true fear.
'My heart is pounding…I'm sweating…my senses are overloading…this is real….fake—real…this is real…this is real!'
As each player fell, their bodies became unwitting hosts to a grotesque spectacle. Glowing white vines, roots, and even trees began to sprout, twisting around and through them in a display that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. The roots wrapped around limbs, burrowed through flesh, lifting some into the air as they screamed—voices filled with pain and disbelief.
"AGHHHH!"
"It hurts!"
"This can't be real," one player gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper as he watched his own body distort under the unnatural growth.
Klade was on the floor as well, crying and holding his blood chest and stomach.
'I didn't even see them strike me! This pain…!'
"AGHHH!" Klade exclaimed.
Asura was ready to fight now, screaming, "Klade!!"
Rothgar grabbed Asura by the head, saying, "We could use a powerful mutt like you."
Asura growled, "Fuck you—!"
Asura vanished like magic.
Klade sat up, his entire face and body bloody, saying, "What did you do with him?!"
Rothgar said, "Oh? You're still alive? That's insane. And annoying."
Amidst the carnage, Klade lay on the cold stone floor, vines beginning to encircle him like serpents. But unlike the others, a fierce determination took hold. Clenching his fists, he grasped at the branches, his muscles straining as he snapped them, piece by piece. Slowly, laboriously, he stood, defiance etched across his features. He gritted his teeth as more blood came out of him.
Rothgar, observing, showed the barest hint of surprise. His icy gaze fixed on Klade, reassessing, pondering this anomaly that dared resist the might of his kin. The room, now a tableau of horror and defiance, fell silent again, save for the muffled pains of the afflicted players and the soft rustle of the growing flora. Klade, standing amidst the devastation, his eyes locked with Rothgar's, seemed both a challenge and a beacon of unresolved fate.
All of the other players were dead
As the echoes of the screams faded, and the light from the slain dimmed, Rothgar's voice filled the void, softer, yet carrying an immutable undercurrent of power. "Interesting," he murmured.
Rothgar stuck his hand out, and a white flame engulfed it. And from his hand, Grendell stepped out of it, dressed as she was after Klade had beaten her.
Grendell walked towards Klade, saying, "Husband. He is the one who defeated me. This Klade human."
Rothgar nodded, "Is that so? He's special then. But he must still die. He may be the one that was prophesied about. But the avatar of righteous ruling which should hatch any day now should be the one from the prophecies, who will rightfully claim this world and the wretched deities banished from here."
Klade coughed, "You're…"
Grendell stated, "Yes. I have faced you back in the castle. You don't realize anything. If the family dies, they are reborn, but cannot die to what killed them before. It's an endless cycle of true rebirth. And soon, we will rule a realm of endless rebirth and true tranquility."
The entire family stood in front of Klade.
Klade thought, 'These branches…draining my power…this is all my fault. Why didn't I use my power…? I was scared…? Too scared…? If I didn't accept the summon request, would I have not been skeptical about everything? But the seed was planted in me….this is real…how is it real…? I could've saved everyone, or lost. But the fact that I didn't even try! Would I have won? Probably not…I've never seen Asura get angry or anxious or wearily like that…that means they are way beyond our level!' Man I want to see Asura right now..'
He thought about his real-world self, and how he was a wimp, always allowing himself to get bullied because he couldn't do anything about it. He was scared back then, and he was scared now.
Klade said, "I don't care anymore…I can't go on with feeling like this."
Grendell said, "You were a fine warrior. I was hoping to have a true battle with you, but your time has cut short. Good luck in the afterlife. For that world of the dead is true Carnage, relating to the true horror and peril of its meaning."
Rothgar added, "We call this world Carnage as well, which further adds to the meaning of its name and its peril. Nothing but war. But we are the embodiment of war. This realm of Centurion…is ours. And we will claim what is beyond it. Who can put an end to something that has no end?"
Grendell stuck his hand through Klade's chest, and Klade coughed out blood, his head dropping.
[All players have died]
..
…
[ERR0R]
…
[ERR0R]
…
Drifting silently through a macabre tableau, the river flowed not with water but with a deep, inexorably moving stream of blood. The sky above boiled with peculiar hues, dark pink clouds billowing, their undersides lined with elusive roses that seemed to blossom spontaneously out of the ether, scattering delicate petals into the bloodied river below. An ominous celestial canvas stretched out behind these clouds; dark reds mingling with dark purples, against which black stars twinkled coldly, scattered like obsidian dust across the heavens. Roses from the clouds slowly fell down like rain, there were hundreds of them, maybe even thousands, falling softly in the canoes and the blood river.
Upon this river floated solemn, wooden canoes, each laden with bodies shrouded ambrosially in vibrant layers of roses. The recurrent blossoms weaved around lifeless fingers and pale cheeks, as if trying in vain to breathe life back into the fallen. A downright eerie yet hauntingly beautiful procession, these canoes carried the players—Klade and the hundreds of other players around him—through a realm they could no longer comprehend, watched over by the stoic gaze of stone monuments lining the riverbanks. They were all dead. But their canoes were filled with roses, covering them halfway.
There were carved figures, statues, around the river that stood colossal, their expressions stoic and regal, capturing the glory of not just the current royal lineage but even the last, their legacies immortalized in pristine marble. Etched in sumptuous cursive across each statue's chest was a quote, each one elucidating the royal precepts of rebirth and destiny:
"In the disruption of our mortal coils lies the seed of imperishable sovereignty."
"From the ashes of fairness shall rise the avatar of equilibrium, omnipotent and just."
"To rule is to cycle eternally through the seasons of power—from mortal to divine, from divine to mortal."
"True reign transcends corporeal bounds; it commands the allegiance of man, beast, and deity alike."
These silent sentinels of stone stood as perpetual guardians of the philosophies that sustained their world, additionally hinting at the existence of a prophecy—a harbinger of drastic change and the rise of unparalleled dominion over the realm of Centurion.
The canoes continued their eerie journey down this ethereal river, the milieu evoking a surreal blend of peace and perturbation. The surrounding scenery veiled the harsh reality of their state with a poetic grace that could hardly be believed, let alone comprehend.
Just as the canoes passed under a particularly majestic archway formed from intertwining branches of roses and thorns, Klade's body stirred. Beneath the sheer layer of petals, his eyes fluttered open, the vibrant hazel irises widening as they adjusted to the ungodly beauty—and horror—of his surroundings. The stark beauty of the sky, a palette of nightmarish yet awe-inspiring colors, hovered over him as if waiting for his recognition of this new reality.
Suddenly and jarringly, a system screen window materialized in front of him. Clarity shattered the mystical veil as harsh, digital words etched themselves across the screen in bold, squared brackets, an impersonal font spelling out his new reality:
[Stats have reset to level 1. You are now in the afterlife world of Carnage. Escape. Lives remaining: 1]
The words hung there ominously, a stark contradiction to the mystical world around him, anchoring the now undeniable truth of his situation. This was not the end, but a bizarre continuation fraught with uncertainties and the terrifying promise of an "afterlife" that bore no resemblance to peace, but rather, the stark opposite—a relentless assertion of survival amid death. Klade, and those accompanying him in ethereal repose, had entered a realm where even gods might dread to tread—the merciless world simply known as Carnage.