After being driven out of the lands where they were persecuted, the Donaters united, deciding to start from scratch. They left the bustling cities and inhabited territories, going to the wild, abandoned corners of the world. There, in the wastelands where the wars of the ancient guilds once raged, they began to build their own fortifications. Their wealth, accumulated through the platinum system, became the basis for a new civilization, built with grace and pragmatism.
Majestic fortresses surrounded by powerful walls and armed garrisons began to grow on the site of lonely ruins and dilapidated castles. The donors used their powerups to easily clear the local lands of monsters and establish resource extraction. They had the best architects, rare drawings bought for fabulous sums, and, most importantly, a huge amount of gold.
At one of these meetings, held in the hall of the newly built Platinum Citadel Castle, their leaders gathered around a round table. The emblem of their union flashed on the central panel of the table: a platinum circle with a sword piercing its center.
"We were exiled,— said Argemont, the leader of the Platinum Sunrise Guild. His voice was firm, and his cold blue eyes scanned the room. "They left us with no choice. We could have stayed and suffered humiliation, but is this the way of those who consider themselves strong?
— no! — it was heard from the back of the hall. One of the people gathered, a warrior in shining armor with embossed gold patterns, slammed his fist on the table. "We created this world with them. We funded the game when many people were just enjoying the free benefits. But now they call us outcasts, not realizing that it was our money that allowed this universe to reach its heights.
"And yet,— Argemont continued, raising his hand for silence, "we must not seek revenge. For now. Our enemy is too numerous, and our image is too vulnerable to propaganda. We will show them true strength not in anger, but in order. We will create a new world that they will be forced to recognize.
Everyone froze, realizing that it wasn't just an idea. That was the plan. The new order.
Fortress after fortress, their cities grew. They weren't limited to just accumulating power. The donors understood that survival requires strategy. Forges were opened on their lands, working around the clock. Hired workers created items that could compete with the rarest drops from the raids. They've been improving their technology, hiring the best programmers to modify interfaces and develop combat algorithms.
On one of the outskirts of the platinum lands, a huge training camp was busy. Dozens of players have honed their skills by learning from mentors who used to be members of the world's top guilds. They didn't care what the regular players said. Here, in these lands, it was not the disputes that mattered, but the results.
— Blow! Faster, sharper! The mentor shouted, watching a group of newbies practicing combo attacks.
— You have to be machines when the time comes. Without pity, without a doubt," he added, giving them a hard look.
Those who did not have time to master complex maneuvers could count on the support of their platinum powerups. But even this did not free them from tough training.
The meetings of the leaders continued. Now the donors lived not only in isolation, but also with plans for the future. The discussions reached a critical point in one of the halls.
"We can't hide forever,— said Barlius, the leader of the other guild. — If we want recognition, we must come out of the shadows.
—Early,— Argemont replied, leaning forward. — Let them keep fighting each other. Let them weaken. When they realize that fighting for their ideals is pointless, we will come with our order.
Barlius was not convinced, but he understood that Argemont was not inclined to make decisions on impulse. They were waiting in the wings.
—Time is on our side," said the magus in scarlet robes, who was sitting to the side. "Their hatred of us is the fuel for our power. And when we come back, it won't be revenge. This will be a transformation.
Thus began a new chapter in the history of the platinum society. They did not seek revenge so early, but dreamed of power. And now, beyond the walls of their fortresses, their enemies were beginning to realize that the wastelands were no longer as desolate as they seemed.
The events that followed the expulsion of the donators developed slowly but inexorably, like a gathering thunderstorm. At first, the players who remained in the regular guilds felt relieved. The world seemed to have been cleansed of those they considered "parasites" of the system. The return to fair play has become their new banner. However, the euphoria did not last long.
The first rumors began to spread in the chat of small guilds.
"Did you hear that?" The caravan of the Golden Blade was defeated.
"Again?" This is the third week in a row!
— They say that this is the work of donors. We saw a squad in platinum armor that just burned everything to the ground.
At first, they didn't believe it. Many believed that this was just another bluff or local raiders pretending to be donors for fear. But then the evidence came out. Screenshots of attacks, recordings of battles, where players in shining armor stood in the first rows, which could only be obtained through the platinum system. These were not just detachments—they were an army that was led with frightening precision.
"They're back..."
These words started flashing in all the chat rooms. First in a whisper, then louder. The players, who had recently celebrated the "purge", now began to feel anxious.
Somewhere in the mountains, in a remote fortress of the Donaters, Argemont, the leader of their new alliance, stood on a balcony, watching the training. Below, dozens of players were honing their movements, and their coordination was impeccable. The warriors moved as one, like one giant machine, each part perfectly synchronized.
Barlius, one of his closest advisers, approached him.
"Argemont, our raids are starting to attract too much attention. How long are we going to keep going?
Argemont slowly turned around, his face remaining calm, like a carving on a statue.
— These are not just raids. It's a message. They should know we're here. They should be afraid of us.
Barlius frowned, his voice quieter.:
— But they are starting to gather forces. Several guilds have already joined together to organize retaliatory strikes. They are not as weak as we would like to think.
Argemont smiled, but it was a cold, almost predatory smile.
— Let them collect. They don't understand that our resources are limitless, and our discipline surpasses their chaotic alliances. If they attack, we will break their will. And if they don't attack, they will die slowly, one by one.
At the other end of the map, in a small settlement, a group of adventurers were discussing the latest developments. Among them was Gard, an old veteran who had been through dozens of wars, and a young archer named Kaylan, who was just starting his career.
"These platinum bastards think they can come back and take everything we've built!" Gard growled, slamming his fist on the table. "I will not tolerate being kept in fear again."
"But what can we do?" Kaylan asked cautiously, his voice filled with doubt. "They have armor, they have weapons, they have... everything.
Gard looked at the young archer, his gaze heavy.
"They have everything but one thing. They don't have our spirit. We are not fighting for gold, but for honor. This is something they will never understand.
But even Gard knew that these words sounded more to maintain morale. Deep down, he understood that spirit and honor might not help if your enemy could literally buy his invincibility. And even the availability of skills is not enough here.
Meanwhile, the donors continued to gain strength. Their armies trained in the most remote corners of the map, preparing for something more. There was an order in their ranks that ordinary players lacked. Each new day brought them closer to their main goal: to show the world that those they called "outcasts" were actually the new elite.
Active work was underway around the platinum citadel. Donors bought resources, built new fortifications, and hired professionals to improve their combat algorithms. Their plans were ambitious, and their leadership was impeccable.
When the message about the new donater attack reached the main chat, many players froze.
"They've struck again. This time it was a city in the Teira Valley.
"Losses?"
"Total annihilation. No one survived.