The Monolith Guild Hall loomed over the heart of Elvaris, a fortress of stone and steel with banners that flaunted the guild's power. The sight of it sent a thrill of anticipation through Rocco as he stood outside, taking in the bustling scene around him. Players in gold tabards with black trim moved in and out, their black monolith stone emblems gleaming under the city's lanterns.
Monolith was growing.
Their recruitment banners lined the square, each one promising the same thing:
MONOLITH – JOIN US AND CHANGE YOUR LIFE!
Rocco adjusted the leather straps of his armor, exhaling slowly. He had been grinding alone for days, barely making enough money to get by. But Monolith? Monolith offered a future.
A voice cut through his thoughts. "You thinking about it?"
Rocco turned, spotting a tall man in reinforced plate armor standing beside him. His Black Monolith emblem gleamed, and the easy confidence in his smirk was impossible to ignore.
"Yeah," Rocco admitted. "I heard you guys are the real deal."
The man chuckled. "We're more than that," he said. "Come inside. Marcus Vale wants to meet you himself."
Rocco's heart skipped a beat.
Marcus Vale. The Guild Master himself.
This wasn't just a standard recruitment. This was something bigger.
He squared his shoulders and followed the man inside.
The Monolith Guild Hall was unlike anything Rocco had ever seen. It wasn't just a guild—it was a machine, an operation running at peak efficiency. Blacksmiths hammered away at weapons, strategists pored over dungeon maps, and the guild vault stood heavily guarded, filled with resources and rare loot.
They passed rows of players donning gold tabards, their black monolith stone emblems marking them as part of the elite. This was more than a guild. It was an empire in the making.
At the center of the main hall, seated behind a massive oak table, was Marcus Vale. He had an aura of control—his presence commanding yet composed. His emerald-green eyes flicked up as Rocco approached, assessing him with sharp precision.
Gavin Holt, the officer who had led Rocco inside, gestured toward him. "This is the recruit I told you about," he said. "Rocco."
Marcus leaned back in his chair, fingers steepling. "You've been playing solo since launch," he noted. "Grinding, trading, surviving on your own. That tells me you have initiative."
Rocco felt a bead of sweat trail down his back. Marcus wasn't just talking to him—he was dissecting him.
"But here's the thing," Marcus continued. "This world doesn't reward the lone wolf. The ones who survive—the ones who thrive—are the ones with a pack." He gestured to the hall around them. "Monolith is that pack."
Rocco's fingers curled into a fist. That was exactly what he needed.
"And what does Monolith want in return?" he asked.
Marcus's smirk was razor-sharp. "Loyalty. Commitment. The will to do what's necessary."
There was a pause before Marcus extended a hand. "You want wealth? Power? Stability? Then welcome to Monolith."
Rocco barely hesitated before clasping Marcus's hand.
A system notification flashed before his eyes.
[You have joined Monolith.]
[Guild Rank: Recruit.]
Marcus rose from his seat, his smirk widening. "Good choice. Let's get you to work."
The Price of Power
The days that followed were a whirlwind of opportunity and compromise.
Rocco was assigned to resource collection teams, sent into dungeons, wildlands, and PvP zones to gather materials, secure loot, and run errands for higher-ranked guild members. It was exhausting, but the payouts were real.
When gold was deposited into his real-world account for the first time, he stared at the numbers, his hands trembling.
More money than he had ever made working any job.
But it wasn't long before he started noticing the cracks in the foundation.
Some players were treated differently—those with connections and high-value contributions got priority access to dungeons, better gear, and bigger payouts. Those who underperformed were expendable.
One night, Rocco witnessed a recruit pleading to keep his spot after failing a resource quota. The officers laughed, stripped him of his gear, and kicked him out.
Rocco looked away.
It's just business.
As long as he was on the winning side, it didn't matter.
But the real test came when he crossed paths with Mars again.
It happened just outside Greythorn Village, where Rocco had been sent to negotiate a trade. He spotted Mars leaning against a wooden post near the blacksmith's shop, his signature crimson eyes scanning the streets.
Rocco grinned, approaching with open arms. "Mars! Man, you're something else."
Mars didn't react immediately, his gaze flicking over Rocco like he was studying a puzzle. "Rocco."
The way he said it—it was like Mars already knew something he shouldn't.
Rocco laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You remember my name. That's a good start." He gestured toward the Boots of Judgment Mars was wearing. "So, Baron of Morrath, huh? Didn't think I'd run into a noble."
Mars shrugged. "Titles don't mean much. It's what you do with them that matters."
Rocco smirked. "And what exactly are you planning to do?"
Mars was silent for a moment, then said, "Build something of my own."
Rocco raised a brow. "You mean a guild?"
Mars didn't answer directly.
Rocco exhaled, shaking his head. "Look, man, I get it. You're strong, you've got big plans. But trust me—solo players don't last." He leaned in. "That's why I came to talk to you."
Mars already knew what was coming.
"Monolith," Rocco continued. "We're changing the game. We've got Cyberdyne backing us, we're locking down territories, resources, and real-world profit. You want security? Wealth? We can offer it all."
Mars listened, silent and unmoving, but his mind wasn't focused on Rocco's words. It was focused on memories.
Monolith had started just like this, with promises of power and security. Back then, Mars had bought into the dream, just like Rocco. The guild had given him armor, weapons, resources, and in return, he had given them his loyalty.
At first, it had been great. He had access to exclusive dungeons, secret quests, and a vault filled with powerful gear. But favoritism ran deep. The officers took the best loot, assigned high-paying contracts to their friends, and left everyone else scrambling for scraps.
Monolith had become less of a guild and more of a machine, grinding down those who didn't contribute enough.
Mars had spent months climbing the ranks, believing that if he worked harder, he would earn his place. But when he finally secured a rare epic item, Monolith had demanded it from him. When he refused, the bullying began.
His rewards were slashed. His raid invites disappeared. Missions he was supposed to lead were reassigned.
And when he finally had enough and left?
They hunted him down.
They ganked him in PvP zones, ambushed him in dungeons, spread rumors to blacklist him from other guilds. Every connection he had was severed. And in the end, he had been left with nothing.
Nothing but one solitary epic item.
The same item that had gotten him killed in the real world.
Mars had walked this road before.
And he wasn't walking it again.
Rocco leaned closer. "Come on, man. Don't go at this alone. Join up with us—you won't regret it."
Mars finally spoke. "No."
The answer came swift, firm, absolute.
Rocco blinked. "Wait—just like that?"
Mars nodded. "Just like that."
Rocco let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Man, you're stubborn."
Mars held his unwavering gaze, the weight of his past life pressing against the moment.
Rocco sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I won't push it. But just know—the offer stands."
Mars didn't reply.
Rocco took a step back, flashing a final grin. "Try not to get yourself killed, Baron."
Mars watched him walk away, the weight of their unspoken history pressing down on him.
The game was changing.
And so was he.