Damien stood amidst the organized chaos of the Adventurer's Guild, his eyes scanning the room. Adventurers of all types crowded the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of chatter, strategy, and boasting. The scent of sweat, leather, and something that resembled burnt toast filled the air. Cass, Tyson, and Grizz stood close, their expressions a mix of tension and curiosity. They had barely recovered from the attack, yet here they were again, trying to make sense of it all.
"So, what do we know?" Cass asked, her voice cutting through the noise. She crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on Damien. Beside her, Tyson adjusted the strap of his sword, while Grizz—massive and silent as ever—glanced around the room with watchful eyes, as if expecting another attack at any moment.
Damien exhaled sharply. He had been turning the events over in his mind since the battle, the pieces fitting together in a way that still felt incomplete, like a puzzle missing its final corner. "They're Drows," he said finally. "Or at least, most of them are. They call themselves the Harbingers." He paused, watching the reactions on his friends' faces. Cass's eyes narrowed, Tyson's jaw tightened, and Grizz's usually stoic face twitched with a hint of recognition.
"The Harbingers?" Tyson echoed. "Never heard of them. What do they want?"
Damien shook his head. "Death. Chaos. But that's not all." He clenched his fists, remembering the cold, calculated gaze of the cultist. "They're after something bigger. The carnage is just a cover. A means to an end."
"And the end is…?" Cass probed, her voice low, almost hesitant. She wasn't used to uncertainty.
Damien hesitated, feeling the weight of the Tear of Daemora hanging like a shackle around his wrist. He extended his arm, showing the gauntlet that had fused with him during the fight. Its once ethereal glow had dimmed to a mere glimmer, but it pulsed faintly, as if listening. "This," he said, "is one of the Tears of Daemora. It… gave me the power to fight back that thing in the sky. But I don't think it's a coincidence they showed up right when I got this."
Grizz finally spoke, his voice a deep rumble. "What do they gain from the Tears?"
"That's the problem," Damien said, frustration bubbling up. "I don't know. I mean, I know they hold immense power, that much is clear... But they've got to mean something more than that if they're willing to tear apart the sky to get them. And if they're after them, that means there's more out there." He glanced at his friends, searching their faces. "We can't just sit around here, not knowing what we're up against."
Tyson frowned, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "So, what's the plan? We can't just charge in blind."
"We're leaving Arnenia," Damien said, the words coming out more resolute than he had expected. "We're going beyond the beginner continent."
There was a beat of silence as the words sank in. The Adventurer's Guild continued to hum around them, oblivious to the monumental decision being made in their midst. Cass looked at him sharply. "You're serious."
"Absolutely," Damien replied. "Staying here means waiting for them to strike again while we sit around with our thumbs up our—"
Tyson raised a hand to cut him off. "We get it. But leaving Arnenia? That's a whole new level, man. There are players out there who have surpassed us by miles. People who've been grinding in advanced areas, gaining power we can't even imagine."
"And that's exactly why we need to go," Damien shot back. "We've been stagnant. We've been comfortable. But this world isn't waiting for us to catch up. If we stay here, we're just sitting ducks. The Harbingers know more than we do. They've been places we haven't. They've seen things we haven't."
Grizz nodded slowly, a rare sign of agreement. "We need to evolve. Adapt."
Cass's eyes flicked between them, her mind clearly racing. "Zeras," she said softly, almost to herself. "The continent of magic. Elves, Cait Sith, Kitsune… It's a world apart from Arnenia."
"It's our only lead," Damien said. "If the Harbingers are after something as powerful as the Tears, then the answers lie in the places that hold that kind of power. And Zeras? It's practically swimming in magic."
Cass raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Great plan, Damien. But how exactly do we get to Zeras? Last I checked, none of us own a boat."
Damien hesitated for a moment, his mind flashing back to the crater and the words of the cultists before they vanished. "We'll meet you in Boska," one of them had said. He hadn't paid much attention to it at the time, more concerned with the fact that they were disappearing right in front of him. But now, that name clicked into place like a key turning in a lock.
He snapped his fingers, eyes lighting up. "Boska. One of the cultists mentioned it during the fight. It's a town."
Grizz's eyes widened with recognition. "Boska? Oh, yes, I've been there before on a discovery quest, back when the game first launched. Very early gameplay." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It's a coastal town, has docks and boats. You can hire a ship captain to take you to any of the continents—if you've got the credits, that is."
Tyson let out a low whistle. "And here I thought this was going to be another dead-end. But if we can get to Boska and secure a boat, then we've got our ticket to Zeras. Sounds easy enough."
Cass took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright. We go to Zeras. We gather information, find out what the Harbingers are really after, and what the Tears of Daemora have to do with it."
Tyson grinned, a spark of excitement finally lighting in his eyes. "About time we moved on from this beginner's sandbox. Let's see what this world really has to offer."
Damien looked around at his friends, feeling a surge of determination. They were stepping into the unknown, facing a world that was larger and far more dangerous than anything they had encountered before. But that was exactly what they needed. To push their limits, to grow, to uncover the truth.
"Then it's settled," Damien said, a small, confident smile forming on his lips. "Pack your gear. We leave for Zeras at dawn."
The next morning, Damien stood by Fort Keller's west gate, the early morning fog still lingering like a veil over the cobblestone road. His gaze fixed on the road ahead.
The Cloak of Nightshade draped over his shoulders, its dark fabric rustling lightly in the morning breeze. It flowed around him like shadows come to life, partially concealing the Tear of Daemora that still encased his right arm. Beneath the cloak, the gauntlet's orange glow was barely visible, a faint, pulsing reminder of the power it held.
Damien glanced at the gauntlet on his arm, frustration evident in his expression. Unlike the mysterious cultist who had effortlessly summoned and dismissed his own gauntlet, Damien was still grappling with the basics. He had barely managed to conjure the Tear of Daemora during their last encounter, and even now, he was clueless about how to control it with any semblance of ease. The process of unequipping the gauntlet remained a perplexing puzzle; he couldn't find any option to remove it in his inventory.
However, by his side, the Steelbane Broadsword gleamed with a cold, steely light, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. His inventory was stocked to the brim—potions, antidotes, and bombs, everything he might need for the journey ahead. He had packed for every scenario, every possible threat, because out there, beyond Fort Keller's walls, anything could happen.
Damien's eyes shifted to the road leading up to the gate, and soon, he spotted his companions approaching. Their silhouettes grew clearer, their new gear gleaming in the morning sun.
Tyson was up front, clad in a full suit of iron armor. No frills, just pure defense. Over his shoulder, he carried a twin-headed mace, each end spiked and deadly. It looked heavy, but Tyson wielded it with ease, ready to crush anything in their path.
Grizz walked beside him, a hulking figure in rugged leather armor reinforced with metal plates. His battle axe, a massive double-edged weapon, hung across his back. The dark iron blades gleamed, their edges sharp enough to slice through armor. The weapon seemed almost too large, but in Grizz's huge paws, it looked right at home.
Cass came up on the right, moving with a feline grace. Her leather tunic fit snugly, offering protection without restricting movement. Her enchanted longsword, the only magical item besides the Tear of Daemora in their arsenal, hung at her hip, glowing faintly with a blue light.
Damien stared down at the gauntlet encasing his right arm—the Tear of Daemora. Its orange glow flickered like embers in a dying fire, pulsing with a power he still barely understood. He took a slow, deep breath, feeling the weight of its presence. This power, as awe-inspiring as it was, needed to be concealed if he was going to travel unnoticed. He focused on the gauntlet, closing his eyes, and imagined it fading away, retreating back into whatever mystical realm it had come from.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, like a gust of wind whispering through leaves, the gauntlet began to dissolve. Orange mist seeped from the seams of the metal, swirling around his arm as if caught in a miniature storm. It coiled upward, glowing brighter for a heartbeat before dispersing into the air, leaving his arm bare. The sensation was both relieving and unsettling, as if a great burden had been lifted while a protective barrier had been stripped away.
Damien flexed his fingers, half-expecting the gauntlet to suddenly reappear. But it didn't. It was gone, dissolved into nothingness, yet he could still feel a faint hum under his skin where it had been, a reminder that its power was just a thought away. He glanced up at his friends, who had stopped to watch the spectacle.
"Well, that's convenient," Cass remarked, her eyes flicking from his now bare arm to his face. There was a mixture of curiosity and caution in her gaze.
"Convenient and freaky," Tyson added, adjusting the grip on his mace. "But freaky in a good way, you know?"
Grizz nodded silently, his eyes narrowing as he studied Damien's arm, as if trying to gauge the power that lay dormant within.
Damien just shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching into a wry smile. "Who would've thought such a rare item would be in the Beginner Dungeon, right?"
As they wrapped up their final preparations, Damien was lost in thought when a voice pierced the bustle of the west gate. He spun around to see Kiyara sprinting towards him, her white hair shimmering in the morning light.
"Damien, what's going on? Are you leaving?" Her voice was laced with both urgency and confusion.
For a moment, Damien was struck by her presence, her blue eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his heart race. In the chaos of the attack, he'd almost forgotten how much she meant to him.
Should I ask her to come with us?
"We need to figure out what's happening, who those attackers were," Damien explained, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest. "If we stay here, we might never get answers."
Without missing a beat, Kiyara declared, "I'm coming with you."
Damien's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure?"
Kiyara's expression was resolute. "Trust me, I'm sure. I don't need to pack—I'm ready."
A burst of laughter escaped Damien, tinged with both resignation and amusement. "Alright, then. I guess we have a new party member."
"Indeed," Kiyara said with a smirk, her confidence palpable.
As if on cue, Damien's HUD flashed with a new notification: Kiyara has joined the party. Her HP bar now appeared alongside Cass's, Grizz's, and Tyson's. He glanced at her, feeling a surge of relief mixed with excitement.
They made their way to a nearby stable, where they found an array of horses of all shapes and temperaments. They rented five sturdy mounts. Cass ended up with a spirited black stallion that matched her energy, while Kiyara selected a calm, chestnut mare. Grizz picked the largest horse of the bunch, a muscular draft horse that barely flinched at his weight. Tyson opted for a sleek, gray gelding, and Damien chose a reliable brown mare with a steady gait. Saddled up and ready to go, they mounted their horses, the leather creaking as they adjusted in the stirrups. With a final glance at the road behind them, they set off, their destination clear: the town of Boska, where the path to Zeras would begin in earnest.
"Let's move out," Damien said, turning toward the gate. "We've got a journey ahead of us." Kiyara's horse fell into step beside him.
As the party crossed the threshold of Fort Keller's west gate, the city's familiar skyline receded into the distance, replaced by the sprawling wilderness of Arnenia.
The road to Boska wound through verdant forests and rolling hills, where the air was crisp and the scents of pine and earth filled their lungs. The sky above was a brilliant blue, dotted with wisps of white clouds that seemed to follow their every move. Damien glanced back occasionally, ensuring that everyone was keeping pace and noting the determined glint in Kiyara's eyes.
Their path was filled with wildlife encounters —gentle deer, chirping birds, wild beasts, and trickster sprites. Luckily, their horses gave them the ability to avoid any confrontations.
As they neared closer to Boska, Cass finally broke the ice. She tilted her head, looking at Tyson with genuine curiosity. "I know that we're all trapped in this game and everything so our real lives don't matter, but I'm curious, you guys—what were your real lives like before Gearsword?"
There was a brief silence as the group exchanged glances. Tyson cleared his throat, breaking the quiet.
"Well, I guess I'll start," Tyson said, his tone thoughtful. "Back before Gearsword, I was running a small tech startup. It was a pretty exciting time—lots of potential and a lot of late nights. My company was all about innovative software solutions. We were working on some pretty cutting-edge stuff, solving complex problems with technology."
"Wow, that sounds intense," Cass said, her eyes widening. "What was it like, running your own business?"
"It was a mix of exhilarating and exhausting," Tyson admitted with a chuckle. "There was always a new challenge, a new problem to solve. But it also meant I had to put in long hours. I barely had time for myself, let alone for friends or hobbies. It was all about the hustle back then."
Grizz, who had been listening intently, nodded in understanding. "Sounds like you were really passionate about it. But with all those hours, did you ever feel like you missed out on something?"
Tyson's expression softened as he thought about it. "Yeah, sometimes. I missed out on a lot of social stuff, and I didn't have much of a personal life. It was all work, work, work. But then again, I loved what I was doing. I guess it's a trade-off, right? You give up some things to chase your dreams."
"Yeah, I get that," Kiyara said, her voice gentle. "I think we all make sacrifices for what we're passionate about."
Cass nodded in agreement. "Definitely."
Tyson smiled at the encouragement from the group. "It's funny how life works."
"So, who's next?" Damien asked, breaking the reflective mood.
Cass's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "I'll go next, if you don't mind."
Cass cleared her throat, leaning forward on her horse before speaking. "Alright, I'll go next. Before Gearsword, I had just graduated with a degree in computer science. I was excited about starting my career, but the job market was way tougher than I expected. I ended up feeling kind of lost, so I started playing this game to distract myself."
Tyson nodded, trying to relate. "That makes sense."
Grizz scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose it's my turn now?"
Grizz leaned back, adjusting his grip on his axe. "Alright. I was a Marine before all this. Did multiple tours and served in some pretty intense places. When I got out, adjusting to civilian life was rough. Everything felt different—less structure, less camaraderie."
Tyson raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. "That must've been a major shift."
Grizz nodded. "Yeah, it was. I missed the routine and the team spirit. I found the VR game as a way to channel some of that energy and keep up with combat skills. It's not the same, but it's close enough."
"What about you, Damien?" Cass asked, tilting her head and peering at him with curiosity.
Damien hesitated, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. "Uh... You know, I was just a normal guy. Worked a job, went to school, all that good stuff..."
"Oh, cool," Kiyara interjected, her eyes brightening with interest. "What school did you go to?"
Damien's eyes darted around, searching for a way out. "U-uh... The School of…" His shoulders slumped as he sighed. "Alright, I didn't go to school."
Cass's eyebrow arched in confusion. "Um, why did you lie?"
Damien felt the heat rise to his face as he realized everyone was now focused on him, their horses slowing. The friendly curiosity in their eyes made him feel awkward. He knew he had to come clean, or risk losing their trust.
"Okay, fine," he admitted, his voice steadying. "The truth is, I actually have a condition called Spinal Muscular Atrophy. It affects my muscles and keeps me bedridden in real life. I'm pretty much stuck with medical care and equipment all the time."
The group fell silent, processing his words. Cass's eyes softened with empathy. "Wow, Damien. That's... really tough. I'm sorry."
Kiyara nodded, her gaze full of understanding. "No wonder you're so into the game. It must be a huge relief to have this escape."
Damien gave a small, grateful smile. "Yeah, it really is. Here, I can do things I can't do in real life."
Tyson and Grizz exchanged glances, then Tyson spoke up. "I think we all have our reasons for being here, and yours is just as valid as any of ours."
Grizz added with a nod, "It's good to know each other's stories. Builds trust."
Damien turned to Kiyara, curiosity piqued. "And what about you, Kiyara? What was your life like before Gearsword?"
Kiyara's expression shifted from thoughtful to nostalgic. "I used to be a competitive athlete, focused on martial arts. It was my life—training, competing, the whole nine."
"Wow," Cass said, intrigued. "What happened?"
Kiyara's smile faltered slightly. "I had an injury that ended my sports career. It was a pretty big blow, not just physically but mentally. Had to throw in the towel, you know how it goes."
Tyson nodded, understandingly. "So, you turned to gaming?"
"Exactly," Kiyara replied, her eyes lighting up. "I saw Gearsword as a new arena where I could apply the same skills and mindset. The strategy, the combat—it's like a different kind of competition, but it still lets me channel that drive and focus, y'know?"
Grizz grinned, clearly impressed. "Your athletic background must give you a serious edge in fights."
Kiyara shrugged, a hint of pride in her voice. "I like to think so."
"You're the only player I know who doesn't need a weapon to survive," Tyson remarked.
Damien's admiration for Kiyara grew. "Sounds like Gearsword found the perfect place for you."
"Yeah," Kiyara said with a smile, "It's been a good fit. And it's nice to have something to focus on again. Being here with you all, exploring this mystical world... It's something I never saw myself doing in a million years."
"But here we are," Damien said.
As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the silhouettes of Boska's docks became visible in the distance. The coastal town lay sprawled against the backdrop of the vast ocean, its lively harbor filled with ships of various sizes bobbing gently on the waves.
Boska's docks were bustling with activity. The sounds of sailors shouting, ships creaking, and the scent of saltwater mingling with the aroma of grilled fish filled the air. The party navigated through the maze of wooden piers and bustling market stalls, heading straight for the docks. Once they dismounted, their steeds dematerialized into ethereal mist, returning to the stable they rented from.
Damien led his friends to the central pier where a handful of ship captains and their crews were busy preparing for their voyages. Together, they approached the nearest captain.
Damien stepped up to a grizzled captain leaning against a weather-beaten helm, his sea-blue eyes scanning the horizon. The captain's weathered face broke into a grin as he saw them approach.
"Evening, folks," the captain called out, his voice rough like the sea. "Need a ride, do ya?"
Damien nodded, stepping forward. "We're looking to head to Zeras. Can you take us there?"
The captain's eyebrows shot up. "Zeras, eh? That's a long haul. Not many make the trip these days, with all the rumors floating around." He eyed them with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "What's your business there?"
Cass chimed in, her voice steady. "We're investigating some attacks and seeking answers. We have the credits."
The captain's gaze shifted to the glittering pouch Cass held out, filled with shiny coins. His eyes narrowed as he considered it. "Alright, alright. I'll take ya. But it won't be a smooth ride. The seas are unpredictable, and Zeras isn't exactly a vacation spot."
Tyson grinned, clapping Damien on the back. "We're used to dealing with unpredictability. Let's get this show on the road."
The captain waved them aboard, and the party followed him onto a sturdy, sea-worn ship. As they settled into the creaking wooden decks, the ship's sails unfurled with a flurry of activity. With a final shout to his crew, the captain maneuvered the vessel out of the harbor.
As the shores of Boska faded into the distance, Damien braced himself for the journey ahead, his thoughts filled with the mysteries awaiting him in the magical continent of Zeras.
The ship sliced through the dark waters, the creaking of the wood mingling with the salty breeze. Above, the moon hung high, painting a silvery path that stretched across the restless sea. Waves sloshed and slapped against the hull, the rhythmic motion doing little to ease the sense of anticipation in the air.
Cass, standing by the mast, suddenly burst into song. It started as a low hum, but soon her voice filled the night, belting out sea shanties and bawdy tavern tunes she must've picked up somewhere in Gearsword. Her voice was vibrant, infectious, and before long, the ship's crew joined in, clapping their hands and stomping their feet. She spun tales of pirate kings and forbidden treasures, the crew's laughter echoing into the vast, open sea. Even the gruff captain, usually as stern as an oak plank, couldn't help but crack a smile, his shoulders relaxing with each verse.
Grizz, despite the raucous atmosphere, had found himself a quiet spot between a couple of barrels. He was curled up like a bear in deep hibernation, his massive frame tucked neatly in a ball. The sight was almost comical—the hardened warrior, feared by many, snoozing like a child. The crew, consisting of actual players aware of the game's character creation system, shot glances at him, bewildered. "Ain't he supposed to be a Human?" one of the deckhands muttered.
"Yeah," Damien replied with a shrug, trying not to laugh. He was just as bewildered as them, in truth. "He... just does that."
Tyson was having a decidedly less entertaining experience. He gripped the ship's railing with white knuckles, face turning an alarming shade of green. "Ugh... this... this is torture," he groaned before heaving over the side. The sea welcomed his offering with a splash. Damien patted his back, half-sympathetic, half-amused. "I thought you were all about the thrill of the journey?"
"Not... this kind of thrill," Tyson choked out between heaves, eyes squeezed shut against the rolling horizon. "Ground... solid ground is where I thrive."
As if to contrast Tyson's misery, Kiyara sat on the hull, perfectly composed. Her white hair danced in the wind, her eyes closed as she meditated amidst the chaos. She was as still as a statue, completely at one with the world around her. It was as if the rocking of the boat, the chill of the sea air, and the occasional spray of saltwater didn't even register to her.
The night marched on, a blend of song, laughter, and the occasional retching sound from Tyson. Damien watched his friends, a strange warmth settling in his chest despite the chill. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of camaraderie. They were an odd bunch, sure—but they were his odd bunch.
Damien caught the eye of one of the crew members as they leaned against the ship's railing, taking a break from their duties. He approached with curiosity, figuring it was as good a time as any to learn more about the world and the people—NPC or not—who inhabited it.
"So, what's it like being part of a ship's crew?" Damien asked, his gaze shifting from the endless horizon to the crew member. "Why choose this life instead of, you know, playing the game normally?"
The crew member, a grizzled man with salt-and-pepper hair and weathered skin, chuckled softly. "Ah, you think we're just here for show, eh? Well, let me tell you a story. Me and my mates, we were like you lot once—running around, looking for adventure, grinding out levels. One day, we hitched a ride with the captain on one of his voyages. He may be an NPC, but we went through some real rough patches out at sea—storms, starvation, the works. After a while, we stopped seeing him as just code, and he stopped seeing us as just passengers."
The crew member's eyes softened with a hint of nostalgia. "We became a crew, a family, if you will. By the end of that trip, the captain offered us a spot on his ship. See, when you're trapped in this game like we are, risking your life on the front lines every day isn't everyone's cup of tea. Some of us chose a simpler life, one that still has its dangers, but feels... manageable."
Damien listened intently. "But how does that fit into the game's system? I mean, don't you miss leveling up and getting stronger?"
The crewman smirked, tapping the side of his head. "That's the beauty of the Trait System, lad. It recognizes all kinds of lifestyles. Me, I took on a profession—'Crewman,' it's called. Unlocked the whole profession system, actually. You'd be surprised what kind of skills and perks come with it. Navigational boosts, weather prediction, even some combat skills if the need arises. It's not the life most players dream of when they log in, but it's ours."
Damien was silent for a moment, processing the information. The idea of settling into a role that wasn't all about glory and combat was... refreshing. "Huh. I never really thought about it like that," he said, a new respect forming in his mind for the crew. "Guess there's more to this world than just fighting the big bads."
"Aye," the crewman replied, looking back out at the sea. "It's a big world out there, full of choices. It's up to each of us to find our place in it."
Cass's scream pierced the air, slicing through the jovial mood like a knife. "Sea monster! I saw a sea monster!" She scrambled away from the edge of the boat, eyes wide with panic, pointing a shaky finger at the dark water. The crew burst into laughter, their boisterous guffaws echoing off the waves.
"A sea monster, really?" one of the sailors chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. "Sweetheart, there ain't no sea monsters in Gearsword. Not a word in the trailers, not a whisper in the beta. It's all land-based, you know that."
"Yeah, right," another crewman added with a grin, "The devs wouldn't waste time coding a sea monster no one's gonna see."
Tyson's face turned from green to pale at the mere mention of the word. "S-sea monster?" He stumbled to the railing and, once again, leaned over the side, offering his stomach's contents to the sea. "Oh god... why did it have to be sea monsters...?"
"Cass," Damien said, trying to keep his voice calm as he reached for her shoulder. "Think about it. The crew is probably right. Sea monsters would be a waste of coding time if the game is mostly on land. You're just seeing things."
But Cass was having none of it. "I'm not blind, Damien! It was there! A huge, scaly... thing with eyes the size of dinner plates!" Her eyes darted around, scanning the black sea, expecting at any moment to see the monster surface again. She folded her arms stubbornly, staring daggers at the water. "Laugh all you want, but I know what I saw."
Kiyara sat cross-legged near the mast, eyes closed, her expression utterly serene. If she was aware of Cass's outburst, it didn't show. Her breathing was steady, her meditation unbroken by the chaos around her. It was as if nothing in this world—or any other—could rattle her concentration.
Meanwhile, Grizz was still a human boulder in his corner, snoring softly despite the noise. Not even Cass's frantic yells or the crew's laughter could wake him from his slumber. He shifted slightly, letting out a contented grunt, but otherwise remained dead to the world.
Damien glanced nervously at the water. A part of him wanted to dismiss Cass's sighting as a trick of the moonlight on the waves, but another part—a small, irrational part—couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that maybe, just maybe, there were things lurking in the deep that Gearsword's trailers hadn't mentioned.
The ship lurched violently, sending everyone staggering. Cass yelped and clung to the railing, her eyes going wide. Tyson, who had just managed to peel himself off the side, was thrown to the deck, clutching his stomach as he groaned. The crew exchanged quick, alarmed glances before rushing to the edges of the boat, peering into the dark waters below.
"What the hell was that?" Damien shouted, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword. He scanned the horizon, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.
"Nothing, huh?" Cass hissed at the crew, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and vindication. "I told you! I told you there was something out there!"
One of the sailors, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, squinted into the inky black sea, his jaw clenched. "Probably just a rogue wave," he muttered, but there was doubt in his voice.
"Rogue wave, my ass," another crewman whispered. "That felt like something hit us."
Kiyara opened one eye, her meditation broken, but her demeanor remained calm. "Whatever it is," she said coolly, "it's not friendly."
The boat rocked again, this time with more force, nearly toppling Grizz from his curled-up position. His eyes snapped open, and in one fluid motion, he was on his feet, axe in hand, his instincts kicking in faster than any of them had ever seen.
"What's going on?" he growled, looking around, his muscles tense.
Cass pointed to the water, her voice frantic. "There! Look!"
A low rumble resonated from the depths below, a sound that vibrated through the hull and into their bones. Then, for a brief moment, the sea went eerily still.
Damien's breath hitched as he stared into the water. Something enormous and dark was moving just beneath the surface, circling the boat like a predator stalking its prey. The tension was palpable, every creak of the ship's wood amplified in the silence that followed.
"Brace yourselves!" the captain bellowed, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Whatever that is, it's coming back!"
A monstrous shape began to rise from the depths, its silhouette growing larger and more defined with each passing second. The crew scrambled to their positions, weapons drawn, eyes wide with terror and resolve. Tyson staggered upright, wiping his mouth, his mace at the ready despite the terror etched on his face.
Cass swallowed hard, her grip tightening around her sword. "I knew it," she muttered, eyes fixed on the rising shadow. "I knew I saw something."
Damien felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the looming shape, his mind racing. "Sea monster or not," he muttered under his breath, "we're in for a hell of a fight."
A massive fish burst out of the water with a thunderous splash, its sleek body shimmering in the moonlight. It was enormous—easily the size of a small house—and for a brief, breathtaking moment, everyone on the boat was transfixed. Cass's fear turned to awe, her eyes wide as she watched the giant fish arc gracefully through the air.
"That's...incredible," Tyson managed to say, his seasickness momentarily forgotten as he stared up at the creature. Even Grizz, ever stoic, seemed impressed, his axe momentarily lowered.
But then, the water around the boat began to churn violently. A shadow even larger than the fish moved beneath them, a dark mass that dwarfed everything in sight.
"Uh...guys?" Damien's voice wavered as the shadow grew bigger, rising rapidly toward the surface.
The sea monster exploded from the depths with a roar that shook the air, revealing a maw filled with rows of serrated teeth. It looked like a megalodon, only worse—a nightmarish combination of shark and ancient sea beast, its scales glistening like armored plates. The giant fish was mere prey, swallowed whole in one terrifying gulp. The monster barely paused, its colossal body crashing back into the sea, sending a tidal wave cascading over the boat.
The ship was thrown skyward like a toy in a bathtub, the force of the impact nearly flipping it over. The crew shouted in a mix of panic and desperate orders as they clung to anything they could grab. Cass screamed, holding onto the railing for dear life, her knuckles white. Tyson lost his grip and was sent sprawling across the deck, sliding perilously close to the edge before Grizz's strong arm caught him just in time.
Water poured over the sides, drenching everyone and making the deck slippery. The boat spun wildly as it crashed back into the sea, the world becoming a chaotic blur of saltwater and screams.
Damien's heart pounded in his chest as he clutched the mast, trying to make sense of what had just happened. His eyes scanned the frothing waters where the sea monster had vanished, his mind racing. "What the hell is that thing?" he shouted, half to himself and half to the crew.
"Sea monster! I knew it!" Cass screamed over the roaring waves.
"Forget I said anything!" the captain yelled back, fighting to steer the ship back under control. "Everyone, get ready! If that thing comes back, we're gonna need every bit of firepower we have!"
The ship rocked gently as the sea slowly calmed, leaving only the bubbling wake where the sea monster had made its terrifying appearance. The crew stood tense and ready, eyes glued to the water, but the moments stretched into minutes, and nothing more surfaced.
"Is... is it gone?" Cass whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and waves.
"I think it just wanted the big fish," Damien said, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He glanced over the side of the boat, half-expecting the monster to leap back out. But the waters remained still, save for the faint ripples and the occasional splash of the crew's frantic movements. "Guess we're not on the menu tonight."
"Thank the gods," Tyson muttered, finally peeling himself off the deck. He still looked pale, but at least now it was from the scare rather than seasickness. "I don't think I could've handled any more of that."
Cass let out a shaky laugh, a mix of relief and lingering fear. "See? I told you I saw something! But... maybe next time it can just be, like, a seagull or something."
Kiyara remained by the hull, her eyes still scanning the horizon, her calm demeanor unwavering. "It's gone," she confirmed, more to herself than anyone else. "Just after the fish."
"Yeah, well, it can stay gone," the captain grunted, his grip still white-knuckled on the wheel. "Never thought I'd see something like that in this game. Someone's got a twisted sense of humor."
The crew gradually began to relax, returning to their duties with nervous chuckles and shared glances of disbelief. The party followed suit, shaking off the adrenaline and seawater.
Grizz slumped against the mast, drenched from head to toe, looking like a wet bear rug that had seen better days. Water dripped from his thick fur in steady streams, creating small puddles around his paws. His usually proud, wild mane now hung flat and matted, plastered against his massive frame.
Cass approached him cautiously, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Uh, Grizz... you good?"
He glared up at her, water dripping from his brow. "I look good to you?" His voice was a low grumble, matching the storm clouds still rolling in the distance. "I was asleep! Then that happened." He gestured to the ocean with a limp hand, as if blaming the entire sea for his soaked state.
"Yeah, but at least you're... um, refreshed?" Cass offered weakly.
"Refreshed? I'm soaked to my bones," Grizz muttered, pushing himself up with a groan. "Not to mention my fur's gonna take days to dry out. Days. And it smells like fish." He sniffed his arm and grimaced.
Damien tried to hide his amusement. "Look on the bright side, Grizz. At least now we know you're not just a big tough guy—you can swim, too!"
"Swim?" Grizz's eyes narrowed, his voice full of indignation. "I didn't swim. I was thrown around like a sack of potatoes! I didn't even get to punch that sea monster in the face."
"Maybe next time," Kiyara said dryly, still in her meditative pose. "If there is a next time."
Grizz shook his head, muttering under his breath. "If there's a next time, I'm tying myself to this mast." He wrung out his sleeve, water cascading to the deck, then trudged off toward the bow of the ship, each step leaving a soggy trail.
Tyson watched him go, then glanced at Damien. "Should we... help him or something?"
Damien shook his head, grinning. "Nah, he'll be fine. Just let him grumble it out. Besides, it's a good look on him. Rugged, even."
Grizz shot them a glare from the front of the ship. "I heard that."
Cass snickered, and even Kiyara allowed herself a small smile. Damien just shook his head, feeling the tension of their recent scare finally start to lift.
"Well," Damien said, trying to lighten the mood as they resumed their places. "Here's to hoping the rest of the trip is a little less... eventful."
Cass managed a smile, though her eyes still darted nervously to the water now and then. "I'll drink to that."
Damien approached the captain, who was still gripping the wheel with a mix of resolve and lingering nerves. The sea was calm again, but the atmosphere remained thick with the memory of what had just transpired.
"Hey, Captain," Damien began, trying to sound casual despite the tension still buzzing in the air. "How long until we reach Zeras?"
The captain glanced at him, then out over the dark waters. He seemed to be weighing his answer, as if the sea monster had thrown off his internal compass. Finally, he let out a gruff sigh. "Three days, if the seas stay calm and we don't run into any more... surprises."
"Three days?" Damien echoed, trying not to let his impatience show. It felt like an eternity, especially now that they knew the waters weren't as safe as they had assumed.
"Aye, three days." The captain's eyes were fixed on the horizon, his jaw set. "Assuming nothing else out there decides we're worth a look."
Damien nodded, trying to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. "Alright then. Let's hope the sea monster was a one-time thing."
The captain chuckled dryly, though there was no humor in his eyes. "In this game? There's always something lurking where you least expect it. Best get comfortable with surprises, lad."
Damien forced a smile and stepped back, his mind already turning over the possibilities. Three days at sea with who-knew-what beneath the waves. He tried to stay positive despite the anxiety gnawing at him. Maybe the captain was right; surprises were everywhere in this game. But at least they had each other to laugh about it afterward—even if one of them was a dripping wet, fuming grizzly bear.
He turned to rejoin the others, trying to keep the captain's words from echoing too loudly in his head.
"Three days, if we don't have any more surprises," he announced as he returned to his friends, who were still scattered around the deck. "So, we better get used to the boat... and whatever else might be out there."
"Three days," Cass muttered, shaking her head. "Let's hope we don't get any more 'surprises.'"
"Yeah," Tyson added, looking queasy again just at the thought. "I'm not sure my stomach can handle much more of this adventure."
Kiyara, still seated in meditation, opened one eye and gave a slight nod. "Three days of training, then."
Grizz let out a low chuckle. "Trust Kiyara to find the silver lining."
The night was still and silent, broken only by the soft lapping of waves against the ship's hull. The party lay sprawled across the deck, their breathing steady in sleep. Tyson was curled into a ball, mumbling softly in his dreams. Grizz, looking more like a furry pile than a man, was snoring gently. Kiyara sat cross-legged near the railing, deep in meditation, while Cass was sprawled comfortably, snoring lightly.
Damien, however, was restless. He couldn't shake the events of the day from his mind. He leaned against the rail, staring out at the endless black expanse of the sea, the moon's reflection dancing on the water's surface.
A shadow fell over him. The captain, who had been silently watching the night, approached and broke the stillness.
"Can't sleep, eh?" the captain said, leaning casually against the rail. "Ever heard of The Champions of Gaea?"
Damien looked up, puzzled. "No, what's that?"
The captain's gaze grew distant as he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of an old seafarer's tales. "Well, let me take you back to the beginning. Millennia ago, Gaea was forged by the Mother Goddess Daemora. She crafted the world and its eleven races, each blessed with special traits and a fragment of Gaea's essence."
He continued, his tone growing more serious. "But perfection drew attention, and not the good kind. Dark cosmic forces, known as the Void Lords, wanted to drain Gaea's power and remake it in their image."
He paused, letting the gravity of the story sink in. "So Daemora picked 11 Champions, one from each race, to fight these invaders. Unfortunately, they didn't succeed. They were beaten. Daemora cried for her fallen champions, and with her tears, she created a powerful weapon capable of defeating the Void Lords. With this new weapon, she succeeded in driving the invaders away. But there was one final task: the Void itself, that primal, destructive force, couldn't be destroyed. Daemora had to seal it away to protect Gaea."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "The Void has been imprisoned on the Dark Continent ever since, but whispers have been growing about the seals weakening. Some say that the Void's influence is seeping back into our world, hinting at a resurgence of its dark power."
We just left Arnenia, and I'm already learning more about the Tears of Daemora, Damien thought. I knew leaving was the right choice.
The days at sea rolled on as Grizz, true to his bear-like instincts, snoozed through it all, curled up snugly in his corner. Damien and Kiyara made the most of their time, pushing each other in rigorous training sessions under the watchful gaze of the stars. Cass, ever the caretaker, tended to a seasick Tyson, who alternated between the deck and the overboard.
As the sun rose on the third morning, the horizon finally unveiled the jagged outline of Zeras, its silhouette cutting through the morning mist. The party, now alert and buzzing with anticipation, readied themselves to disembark.
As the ship drew closer to the bustling docks of Zeras, the once quiet expanse of ocean transformed into a hive of activity. Ships of various sizes bobbed in the harbor, and the distant clamor of merchants and townsfolk floated over the water.
Grizz, finally stirring from his long slumber, shook off his drowsiness and lumbered to the edge of the ship, his fur matted but his eyes bright with curiosity.
The ship glided into the harbor with a smooth ease, and the crew started tying off the ropes. Damien, eager to set foot on solid ground, could hardly contain his excitement. "We made it!" he said, turning to his friends with a grin.
Cass, stretching her arms, glanced at the sprawling city beyond the docks. "Zeras looks huge. I wonder what kind of quests await us here."
Tyson, still pale but resolute, managed a weak smile. "Let's hope this place is kinder to my stomach."
As the ship docked and the party disembarked, the captain called out to them one last time. "Before you head off, just a heads-up—this town is called Whimvale. It's charming in its own right, but if you're looking for the real action and sights, head to Phantia. It's the capital city and has everything from grand markets to legendary landmarks. And if it's information you're wanting, I'd go to the Archives "
Damien nodded, taking mental notes. "Thanks for the tip! We'll check it out."
With that, the party stepped onto the bustling streets of Whimvale. The town was quaint, with cobblestone roads winding between charming shops and cozy homes. Despite its small size, there was an air of friendly bustle, with locals going about their day and welcoming newcomers.
Damien was immediately struck by the sheer diversity of the crowd bustling around him. He had expected the usual: Elves with their graceful strides, Cait Sith darting nimbly between the larger folk, and Kitsune with their sly smiles and flicking tails. But as he scanned the crowd, he realized there was more. A lot more.
Humans milled about with determined looks, haggling with vendors or lugging crates off ships. Dwarves with their stocky builds and impressive beards hammered at metalwork stations, sending sparks flying into the air. He even spotted the tall and imposing forms of Dragonians, their scales glinting under the sun as they towered over the market stalls. There were Salamanders, with their faintly glowing skin, walking alongside the Beastmen, who bore the traits of various animals. Every race he knew of—and some he didn't—seemed to be represented here.
This wasn't just some sleepy port town. Whimvale was a crossroads, a melting pot where the varied peoples of Gaea came together. And it made sense. This was the continent of magic, after all, the place everyone was hyped to go to before the game even released. If there was a place to become powerful, to push the limits of one's abilities, this was it.
Kiyara, her focus shifting to the horizon, nodded. "First things first, we need to get our bearings."
"I agree." Damien pointed to a cozy-looking tavern with a sign proclaiming "Best Food in Whimvale."
"You guys up for a bite?"