The blade in Elias Ward's hand moved like an extension of his arm, slicing clean through the last enemy. The digital landscape of Celestian Requiem stretched around him—vast plains and towering mountains, the horizon painted with a fading sunset.
He took a deep breath, the adrenaline still pulsing as the system declared him victorious. His avatar, WardensBlade, stood motionless amidst the vanishing corpses of fallen foes.
Suddenly, a message appeared before him with fanfare and a descending golden medal.
The Immortal Forge has recognized your might. Receive your reward.
His name flashed on the leaderboard—#1. Again.
It should have felt triumphant. It always did before. But lately, the thrill had dulled, leaving an emptiness gnawing at the edges of his victory. His grip loosened on the hilt as the familiar sense of hollowness crept in.
He sighed, letting the darkness consume his vision as he peeled off the VR helmet, setting it aside. As his eyes adjusted, the bare gray walls of his small apartment greeted him—cold and silent, like an old friend offering no comfort.
A buzz pulled him back to reality. His phone lit up with a message from Markus, his brother.
Still on for dinner tonight? Remember, Ava's coming too, so dress to impress, little bro.
Elias stared at the message, longer than he meant to. Markus's lighthearted texts never failed to brighten his day, yet his efforts to keep them all connected felt... forced.
Ava.
The name stirred an old ache. They hadn't really talked in years—not since he graduated from college, or since he let the game consume his life. She had her own world now—research, AI—things that felt galaxies away from his.
With a sigh, he typed a quick Sure and hit send, ignoring the tightness in his gut. He tossed the phone aside, letting it clatter onto the nightstand, then leaned back against the headrest.
This game... It's where I belong.
The thought should have comforted him, but instead, it felt like a weight pressing on his chest. The empty feeling crept back, like a shadow he couldn't shake.
Later that night, Elias found himself in what some would call a gamer's nightmare: a sit-down dinner. The restaurant was bright and polished, everything gleaming in a way that made him shift uncomfortably. Crystal chandeliers cast soft reflections on the white tablecloths. It all felt... excessive. Too fancy for him.
Markus had chosen the place, of course. His older brother thrived in places like this, basking in conversations about work and the city's nightlife. Ava looked at ease, too, scanning the wine menu with the kind of relaxed poise he could never pull off. Her red hair was pinned up elegantly, a detail that didn't escape his notice.
Elias tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling the stares of sharply dressed patrons all around him—a stark contrast to the virtual warrior he was used to embodying.
Markus's voice cut through the silence, cheerful as always. "So, it's been a while since we all got together, huh? What's been keeping you busy, bro? Still dominating Celestian?"
Elias forced a smile, though the question made him squirm. The game felt out of place here, like a language only he understood. "Yeah, still ranked #1," he replied, keeping his tone even. He reached for his water glass, feeling its weight in his hand.
Markus turned to Ava with a grin. "Isn't that impressive, Ava? And he did it all with the hardest class in the game!"
Ava looked up, her expression unreadable. "Hmm?" she replied, seemingly caught off guard. "Oh, sorry, I don't know much about games. But I'm glad you're doing well," she added with a polite smile.
It wasn't judgment, not exactly, yet her response felt... loaded. Elias shifted, suddenly uneasy. "It's not just a game… at least not to me," he said, his voice sharper than he meant. "It's... I'm the best at something. That means something."
Ava put down her menu, meeting his gaze. "Oh, I didn't mean it that way, Elias. It's just, working in the industry, I see mostly code and data, not the world you experience. Sometimes, it's hard to see the romance in it."
Her words echoed in his mind, chipping away at the pride he'd wrapped himself in. Was she right? Was his world, the one he'd traded everything for, only "a bunch of codes?" He glanced around, at the polished silverware, the well-dressed patrons, and felt a pang of insecurity. This world wasn't his.
Markus, sensing the tension, stepped in with a grin. "Hey, Elias is practically a pro! Not everyone's ranked #1. He even streams sometimes!"
But Elias barely heard him. Ava's words lingered, her dismissal of his world as just lines of code. His chest tightened. He pushed his chair back abruptly, the polished floor amplifying the sound.
"I need to go," he muttered, avoiding their stares as he grabbed his jacket. He didn't wait to see their looks of concern or disappointment. He just needed to get out.
The cool night air hit him like a slap, clearing his head as he stepped outside. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking quickly down the street. The city lights blurred into the background, his mind still reeling from the conversation.
Without realizing it, he found himself at his apartment. His body moved on autopilot, logging him back into Celestian Requiem in a desperate attempt to shake the disquiet.
The world of Astravell opened before him again, a vast and beautiful realm where he held control. Gripping his sword, he let the rush of the game wash over him, filling the void left by reality.
Hours passed, the rhythm of battle dulling his anxiety. Then, without warning, he found himself in an unfamiliar city—medieval, bustling, but wrong. The colors felt muted, as if the vibrancy had drained. NPCs moved through their routines, but every so often, they seemed to look at him... watching.
His heart raced, a chill creeping up his spine. It's just a game, he told himself. But something felt wrong. He opened the map, only to find it blank.
Then everything glitched. Astravell froze—NPCs mid-step, the wind stilled, mountains pixelating in and out. A message appeared on his screen.
They're coming. The sword awaits your grasp. Are you ready to inherit the warrior's will?
Elias's pulse quickened. It wasn't from the game system. No notification, no player chat. This was... different, like one of the ghost stories he read to pass time.
Before he could react, the screen flickered, and for a brief second, an image flashed—a figure, scarred and armored, gripping a glowing sword. His eyes burned with intensity, as if staring directly at Elias.
And then, everything went dark.
The game crashed, logging him out without warning.
Elias sat there, heart pounding, staring at the black screen. His mind raced, but one thought rang louder than the rest.
Are you ready to inherit the warrior's will?