Elias felt that familiar rush as Celestian Requiem enveloped him, his apartment's stillness melting into the vibrant hum of Astravell. A cool breeze grazed his skin, the air scented faintly of pine, every sensory detail pulling him further in. It wasn't just a game—each step, each breath was its own reality. His sword's weight pressed against his back, leather straps biting into his shoulder with the expected, worn pressure of real armor.
He took a breath, grounding himself. NPCs and players moved around him in the city streets, voices blending into a symphony of life. But something was different. The world felt…sharper, awake somehow, as if he were being watched. NPCs who usually blended into the background now seemed strangely aware, their gazes tracking him a second too long before moving on.
He opened his map, and his eyes froze on a pulsing new marker on the city's edge, where no quest had ever sent him before. No message, no notification. Just the lone icon, flashing like a heartbeat, inviting him forward.
A shiver ran down his spine. What the hell is this?
His pulse picked up as he started toward it, weaving through the crowded streets. Every footfall felt tangible—his boots echoing off the cobblestones, armor shifting heavily with each step. The game's immersion was real as ever, but today it felt different, as if the line between digital and real had thinned.
The main street gave way to Astravell's older districts, where polished buildings receded into a darker, older part of the city. Time had weighed on these walls; cracks webbed through stone, and shutters hung askew. The further he walked, the quieter it became until only the distant murmur of wind remained.
At the mouth of a narrow alley, someone waited.
The man stood tall in silver armor dulled with age. A hood obscured most of his face, leaving only the faint glow of his eyes visible beneath. He held himself with a strange, casual strength, as if he had borne the world on his shoulders once and hadn't thought much of it.
"WardensBlade," the man said, his voice smooth as silk, low and unhurried. "I've been waiting for you."
Elias's pulse quickened. No NPC had ever spoken to him by name, at least not like this. He tightened his grip on his sword. Is this a new AI mechanic?
"Who are you?" Elias asked aloud, his voice resonant within his in-game body.
"They call me Lucius," the man replied, tilting his head slightly. "But that's not what matters. What matters is why you are here."
Elias felt a strange tightness in his chest. This wasn't just another quest. He could feel it—a hidden layer beneath the game's surface. Maybe even something tied to the warrior's legacy.
Lucius smiled faintly, though the expression held no warmth. "The sword you seek is not just a weapon, WardensBlade. It is a legacy—a power forged in battle, waiting for someone worthy to claim it."
Elias felt his heart race with excitement. This was the moment he'd been chasing—a chance to uncover something no one else had found.
"What do I need to do?" he asked, his voice barely masking the eagerness beneath.
Lucius turned, his silver cloak trailing behind him. "Follow me. The path awaits."
They moved through the twisting alleys, Elias's senses pulled deeper with each step. The leather of his boots creaked, and the cold air stung his exposed skin. Even the mist curling around his feet felt damp, chilling him to the bone.
The path ended at a heavy iron door covered in faintly glowing arcane symbols. Lucius stopped before it, pressing a hand against the iron's rough surface.
"This door marks the first trial," Lucius said. "Beyond it lies the path of the warrior. Only those worthy will emerge."
Elias stared at the door, feeling the aura that radiated from it—weight, power, and something intangible. Whatever lay beyond it was no ordinary challenge.
Opening his in-game menu, he found the name he was looking for and clicked: Artemis.
Need help. Found something big.
Her reply came immediately: Where are you?
He shared his location, and within moments, she materialized beside him. Her longbow was slung across her back, her armor rippling slightly with every movement.
"You've been active recently," she said, her voice light and familiar. "More active than usual, anyway. Congrats on the tournament, by the way."
Elias chuckled. "Thanks. Though, it didn't feel like much. Those opponents…too predictable."
Artemis smirked. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's still that one guy who could clean the floor with you."
"BlackBlade?" Elias scoffed. "I heard he's just some old man who likes to play samurai."
"A very dangerous old man," she replied. "I watched him solo a world boss without getting scratched."
Elias twitched. "Whatever. Right now, I've got bigger things to worry about."
She followed his gaze to the man by the door. "So, who's this? Some kind of new NPC?"
He glanced at Lucius. "Yeah. Lucius. His quest seems tied to…something big, maybe even a hidden class."
Her eyes narrowed, examining Lucius closely. "Why does he look so…real?"
"You noticed it too?" Elias muttered. "The NPCs have been different since the glitch last night."
Artemis raised a brow. "Glitch? What glitch?"
He waved her off, focusing on the door. "Forget it. Are you in?"
She rolled her shoulders, eyes glinting. "As long as there's good loot."
The iron door groaned open, revealing a corridor steeped in mist. A sharp chill filled the air, the cold so real that Elias could almost feel damp stone beneath his feet.
They crept down the passage, flickering torchlight casting shadows that seemed to twist and shift on the ancient walls. Figures locked in battle were etched into the stone, faces frozen in rage or agony.
"This place…" Artemis murmured, her voice low. "It feels too real."
Elias nodded. "Yeah. Something about it is just...off."
A low growl echoed from the shadows, the temperature dropping even further.
Artemis tensed, drawing her bow. "You hear that?"
Elias gripped his sword tighter, his pulse hammering. "Yeah. Something's here."
Out of the mist, a figure emerged—beautiful and horrifying, with skin that shimmered like marble and eyes burning with an unnatural hunger. Twice their size, it moved with grace, its body twisting in ways that defied reality.
"What is that?" Artemis whispered.
"No idea," Elias muttered, "but it's not friendly."
The creature's gaze fell on him, eyes narrowing in sudden disgust. Its voice, when it spoke, was a low, furious hiss. "You… Why do you have that scent?"
Then it lunged. Elias barely had time to raise his sword as it struck, the impact sending a painful jolt through his arms. Beside him, Artemis loosed an arrow, but it disintegrated on contact, the creature's form rippling like smoke and light.
"Damn it," Elias whispered. "We've never faced anything like this."
The creature circled them, movements predatory and calculated. Every instinct screamed this was no ordinary enemy—this was something else. Something ancient.
"We have to kill it," Artemis whispered, tension lacing her voice.
Elias's grip tightened on his sword. Whatever this thing was, he wasn't about to let it stop him. He charged, but the moment his foot struck forward, pain lanced through his head. He staggered, dropping to his knees as a blinding headache split through him, more real than any in-game pain had ever felt.