Maya, Maki's sister, hadn't planned on anything extraordinary that morning. It was supposed to be simple—a quiet breakfast. Bacon frying. Eggs flipping. But what she saw… broke reality in half.
A light flickered like it was confused, turning itself on and off, like a twitching nerve. A flash. And then—a crack. Not in the walls. In the air itself. A crack.
Time didn't freeze; it shattered, splintering like fragile glass. Her mind couldn't catch up fast enough. It was just a blink, then pop—the air split open, and something—a hand?—reached out. Twisted. Green. Small. Too many fingers. Its skin was wrong—like leather left too long under the sun. The fingers clawed at nothing, at the space between her and her scream, then began pulling itself through.
She ran.
"Maki!" she shouted, legs already moving before her brain could fully process it. The eggs burning, the pan smoking, all left behind as she barreled toward her brother's room. "Maki, open up!"
But when she reached his door, the crack behind her seemed to widen, yawning like the mouth of some unseen beast. Another flash—another shape—a goblin—fully squeezed through this time.
Her body reacted before her mind could scream "Close the door!" and her hands moved but not fast enough—Maki hesitated, eyes wide, lost in the chaos. In that breath of confusion, the goblin was inside.
Panic set her limbs on fire.
She was frozen for a second—then two—then Maki did something impossible.
A sword appeared—from nowhere—just hanging there in the air like the universe itself had given it to him. Not a replica. Not a cheap knockoff. A weapon designed for war. The steel gleamed like moonlight, cold, and alien, yet perfectly suited to Maki's trembling grip. Maya watched in stunned horror as her brother, the Maki she knew who never fought, charged at the creature.
"No!" she gasped, but it was too late.
The goblin lunged. Maki swung. The blade cut through with a sound like tearing paper, blood spraying out in sharp arcs. The creature's scream was inhuman, a high-pitched wail that rattled her bones. Maki stumbled back, his arm sliced, but his sword found its mark again, and the goblin collapsed, twitching, defeated.
"Maki... how...?" Maya's voice was a fragile thread, barely audible over her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
But Maki didn't answer. He didn't have to. The blood smeared across the floor, the creature's lifeless body—everything was already an answer. Maya's legs felt like jelly as she backed away, unable to look away from the carnage, unable to process how her brother had summoned a weapon out of thin air. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.
They locked the door after. Maki stacked every piece of furniture he could find in front of it. They didn't speak, only moved mechanically as if words would somehow make it worse. As if saying it aloud would turn it into something more terrifying than it already was.
Now, hours later, Junshen stood in the same room, eyes flicking over the goblin's corpse, the blade still jutting from its chest. He said nothing, just absorbed the scene like he had seen it a thousand times.
Maya shivered. Her voice trembled. "It was terrifying," she whispered. She glanced at Maki's peaceful, sleeping face. "I've never seen anything like it."
Junshen nodded, silent, his thoughts too loud for words. He had assumed Maki was like him—tagged. That sword... it wasn't the same as his, it's not the beginner's blade from the game. But importantly, Maki… he wasn't ready. He didn't know the goblins' weaknesses or how they moved. He fought blind, only on instinct, and it almost cost him everything.
And yet, Maki survived. Because somewhere deep inside him, that warrior had awakened.
Junshen's mind raced. He couldn't leave them behind now, not with Maki out cold and the portal still flickering in the air. He stayed.
Then, the footsteps.
Closer, closer. Echoing through the house, deliberate and sharp.
Maya glanced toward the door, her expression tightening with subtle fear. "The police?"
The door creaked open, and the house filled with men in uniform. But their faces were pale, their eyes wide, transfixed by the crack in the air. The portal hovered above them like an uninvited guest.
"No one go near it," someone said. "We don't know what that thing does."
"Who's gonna volunteer to check?" The murmurs began to ripple through the room. Panic was an electric current, waiting to snap.
But before anyone could decide, a figure stepped forward. The man. The one Junshen had seen outside—the one who had slain a goblin with a single strike. He moved through the group like a king among sheep.
"Cowards," he sneered, striding toward the portal. His face was hard, unreadable. Familiar. Too familiar.
The room watched as he approached the rift. The air seemed to hum as he stepped forward, everyone holding their breath.
And then he entered.
Not electrocuted. Not vaporized. Just... gone.
Minutes passed, but they felt like hours. The tension grew unbearable. Then the light flickered, and the man returned. Calm. Unscathed.
"It's stable," he said, his voice low but commanding. "But I need assistance."
Junshen's hand was already up before he knew it. His gamer heart couldn't resist the opportunity. The whispers followed.
"Isn't that the guy who killed all those goblins?"
"He's a strong player... maybe he can handle it."
Junshen ignored the chatter and locked eyes with the man. "I'll go."
Every eye turned. Whispers swirled like thick smoke, snaking around him. But Junshen's mind was elsewhere, locked on the figure standing near the portal. That familiar smile, half-cocked, like he knew something no one else did.
"Then follow me," the man said, barely turning as he stepped through the shimmering crack. No hesitation. No second glance. Junshen took a breath, stepping in behind him.
The light swallowed them whole.
Cold. The air hit him first. Dark, like the deepest part of the ocean where sunlight never reaches. His field of view narrowed to just the dim glow from the portal behind him. But it was what lay ahead that sent a spike of adrenaline through his veins.
A cave. Wide, ancient, and alive with the kind of silence that watches you, waits for you to make the wrong move. The walls pulsed with faint lights from crystals embedded deep in the stone, casting twisted shadows on the ground.
"I'm Gavin. What's your name, young man?" the man introduced himself.
"Junshen. Junshen Llanard," he replied, still analyzing the surroundings. Its too dark.
Gavin glanced at the surroundings, eyes unreadable in the dim glow. "My eyesight's... poor in the dark. You'll have to lead."
Without a word, Junshen fumbled in his inventory. No light spells—nothing yet. Not until he advanced. Gavin handed him a lighter, a small flicker against the overwhelming blackness. It wasn't much, but it'd have to do.
They walked. Step after step, boots echoing in the hollow silence. The cave felt too familiar—like a glitch in a game, a reused asset. He'd been in places like this in the Advent of Glory hundreds of times. The tunnel wound deeper, a spiral into the earth. But this… was different.
The light from the portal grew dimmer behind them until it was swallowed entirely, yet as they walk deeper in the cave, they see faint glow of candles—candles that shouldn't be there.
The passage opened up into a massive cavern, its ceiling stretching so high it was lost in shadow. Luminous crystals dotted the space, casting the room in hues of green and blue. In the center—a door. Wooden, ancient, covered in runes that pulsed faintly.
"This... isn't in the game," Junshen whispered, more to himself than to Gavin.
Gavin's eyes narrowed as he approached the door, the runes reflecting in his gaze. "Should we go back and bring reinforcements?"
"We should check it first. Then ran fast if there's danger."
Gavin's mouth twitched into a grin. "I like the way you think."
Together, they pushed the door open, the wood groaning like it hadn't been disturbed in centuries. Inside was an enormous chamber, lit by mana crystals. Hundreds of them, all glowing with an otherworldly light, casting what it seemed like a shifting kaleidoscope of color across the stoned floor.
But it wasn't the light that drew Junshen's attention.
It was the chest. Old, wooden, with iron bands crossing its surface. It sat in the middle of the room, unassuming yet impossible to ignore.
Gavin's voice was low, barely audible. "Think it's a trap?"
Junshen stepped forward, heart racing. "We won't know if we don't open it."
They circled it once, twice, then Gavin shrugged, stepping closer. "Only one way to find out." He knelt beside it, fingers hovering over the iron latch. Junshen held his breath.
Click.
The chest creaked open, and inside—crystals. Ten of them, glowing in a deep, ethereal green.
Junshen's heart stopped. He knew what they were. Knew them like he knew his own name. Advancement crystals.
"What the hell are these?" Gavin asked, picking one up, its glow casting a sickly green light across his face.
Junshen's mind raced. These crystals—back in Advent of Glory, they weren't just rare, they were the key to everything. Classes. You needed them to advance. To unlock potential.