The hall was vast and imposing, its domed ceiling adorned with intricate murals depicting battles, victories, and moments of profound unity. Chandeliers hung high, their flickering lights casting a golden hue over the polished marble floor. At the center of the hall stood a grand round table, carved from dark oak and embellished with silver inlays. Each seat was accompanied by a high-backed chair, equally ornate, signaling the importance of those who sat there.
Around the table, the Revients—leaders of the guilds that governed the Paradox World—were seated. Each of them was flanked by an assistant, their most trusted soldiers, standing silently yet alert. The air was heavy with tension, a testament to the gravity of the meeting.
---
The Merchant Guild
A man with sharp, calculating eyes and an air of quiet confidence was the first to speak. His name was Reynard Vos, the Revient of the Merchant Guild. Reynard was known for his shrewd negotiations and a network of spies that spanned the world. His tailored suit and neatly trimmed beard spoke of wealth and precision.
"The portals have become increasingly erratic," Reynard began, his voice smooth but edged with concern. "Trade routes have been compromised, and several of my caravans have disappeared entirely. This behavior is unprecedented."
Beside Reynard stood his assistant, Lyric Gale, a wiry man with a hawk-like gaze and a habit of scanning the room constantly. Lyric's reputation as an informant and bodyguard was unmatched.
---
The Assassin Guild
A soft chuckle came from a figure dressed in black leather armor, her hood pulled low over her face. Velara Sable, the Revient of the Assassin Guild, leaned forward, her movements fluid and deliberate. Her silver hair framed a face that was equal parts beautiful and deadly.
"Perhaps your caravans were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," Velara said, her tone laced with mockery. "Distortions or not, the weak are always prey."
Velara's assistant, Kane Dusk, stood behind her—a towering man with an unsettling calmness. A scar ran across his jawline, a mark of battles won and lives taken.
---
The Healer's Guild
"Enough, Velara," came a soft but firm voice. The speaker was Evelyn Mora, the Revient of the Healer's Guild. Evelyn's presence was one of calm authority, her robes flowing like liquid silver. Her green eyes, full of wisdom and empathy, scanned the room.
"Lives are at stake here," Evelyn continued. "Even those who serve your guild have been caught in these distortions. Players are being dragged into portals without proper clearance or preparation. This is not a matter of strength but survival."
Beside Evelyn stood Alden Vex, her assistant, a sturdy man with hands calloused from years of battlefield healing. Despite his rugged appearance, his demeanor was gentle, a reflection of his guild's values.
---
The Foot Soldier's Guild
A low growl came from a hulking figure clad in plate armor. Garran Thorn, the Revient of the Foot Soldier's Guild, was a giant of a man, his face weathered by countless battles. His deep-set eyes glared at Velara before addressing the room.
"This isn't the time for petty remarks," Garran rumbled. "My men have been reporting strange occurrences too. Distortions that drag them in mid-mission, splitting squads and leaving them vulnerable. Whatever this is, it's targeting all of us."
Behind Garran stood Rika Blayne, his assistant, a fierce warrior with a reputation for leading troops with unmatched precision. Her sharp gaze mirrored her commander's no-nonsense attitude.
---
The Beast Guild
The final voice was a low, guttural tone that demanded attention. Harkon Dray, the Revient of the Beast Guild, stroked the thick fur of a massive wolf lying at his feet. Harkon's appearance was as wild as his guild—his unkempt hair and fur-lined cloak gave him the look of a man who thrived in chaos.
"The beasts sense it too," Harkon said, his voice measured. "They're uneasy, restless. Whatever's happening to the portals, it's affecting the natural order. And that's dangerous."
Beside Harkon was Mira Lynx, his assistant, a lithe woman with animalistic grace. Her piercing yellow eyes seemed to see far more than she let on.
The Revients exchanged glances, their faces etched with concern. The table was silent for a moment, save for the faint scratching of Lyric Gale taking notes.
"What's most troubling," Reynard said, breaking the silence, "is that the distortions seem… targeted. They're not random anomalies."
Evelyn nodded. "It's as if the portals are choosing who to take and when."
Velara smirked. "Then perhaps the question isn't what's causing this, but who."
A murmur spread through the room. The possibility of an orchestrated attack was one none of them had voiced aloud until now.
Before the conversation could go further, the heavy wooden doors at the far end of the hall creaked open. All eyes turned as a figure entered—a young player, his steps deliberate and his expression apologetic.
"Forgive the interruption," the player said, bowing deeply. "The recruits have assembled and are awaiting your address."
The Revients exchanged glances. The recruits—new players who had survived their initiation and were now ready to be integrated into the guilds—were to be introduced to their leaders today. The timing was unfortunate, but the meeting could not be postponed.
"We'll conclude this discussion later," Reynard said, rising from his seat. The others followed suit, their assistants stepping into formation behind them.
As they exited the hall, the gravity of the situation lingered in the air. The distortions were not just a threat to the players but to the existence of humanity. Whatever was behind them, it would take more than guild politics to uncover—and confront—the truth.
The heavy doors closed with a thud, their sound echoing through the vast hall. Slowly, the lights began to extinguish, one by one, casting long shadows that crept across the marble floor. The air turned colder with each fading glow, until the room was swallowed by complete darkness.
A sharp crackle shattered the silence. A faint blue light flickered at the center of the hall, growing steadily brighter. The air twisted and rippled as a portal began to form, its swirling edges crackling with unstable energy. The vortex pulsed with an otherworldly hue, casting faint shadows on the towering pillars and the enormous circular table.
The portal expanded, its surface shimmering like liquid glass. Then, a single step echoed. A foot emerged—worn leather, scuffed from travel, mist clinging to its edges. Another step followed, deliberate and steady. A figure took shape, cloaked in shadows and faintly illuminated by the dying glow of the portal.
The rift behind him closed with a hiss, leaving the hall silent once more. The figure stood motionless in the darkness, their presence heavy and foreboding. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if anticipating what was to come.
He fell to his knees and sweat dripped from his head. He vomited due to obvious irritation. He wiped his mouth as he looked up.
"Were the hell am I" Erwin muttered.