Mark's hands clenched into fists as he scrolled through the logs, his mind screaming that this had to be some kind of mistake. Some cruel joke. Some hack.
But the reality stared back at him in brutal, undeniable clarity. Dark Solution belonged to Dominant now.
His guild. His home. Gone.
And the one responsible? Sophia.
The woman he had trusted above all. His second-in-command. His partner. The one he had foolishly imagined a future with—both in the game and beyond.
And she had sold it all. Sold him out.
His breath came slow and ragged as he scrolled down the transfer logs, where her message sat, waiting like a final dagger to the chest:
> Mark, I did what was necessary. You'll understand one day.
Public Humiliation
A notification popped up in his private messages. A live guild meeting was being streamed in Dominant's grand hall. His fingers hovered over the link. He shouldn't watch. It would only make the pain worse.
But he clicked it anyway.
The screen loaded, revealing a packed hall, banners of Dominant draped over polished marble walls. At the center of it all, lounging on an ornate throne, was Sophia.
She looked comfortable there. Too comfortable.
Around her, familiar faces—his former officers, his most trusted members—laughed and drank, toasting their new allegiance.
One of them—a warrior named Vance, who had once sworn loyalty to Mark—grinned at Sophia. "Man, I almost feel bad for him. Did you see his face in the logs?"
Sophia smirked, swirling a goblet of digital wine. "Oh, I saw it. I almost expected him to cry. Poor thing."
Laughter erupted through the hall.
Mark's grip on his mouse tightened until his knuckles turned white.
Another officer, Clara, grinned. "Guess he really thought all that 'loyalty' and 'family' crap meant something, huh?"
Sophia leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Mark was a relic, clinging to a dream that was never sustainable. Dark Solution was doomed the moment he refused to evolve. All I did was cut the dead weight before we all got dragged down with him."
Dead weight.
The words hit harder than any sword ever had.
The Final Betrayal
A document flashed on the screen.
Sophia held up a signed contract with a smug smile. The Dominant Guild Contract.
"Oh, and if he thinks he can 'rebuild' or 'fight back'... well, let's just put that nonsense to rest right now." She flicked the document open, zooming in on the fine print. "Mark signed this when Dark Solution was first formed—standard leadership terms. In the event of a hostile transfer, the original guild leader must delete their account. Compensation will be provided."
The camera zoomed in further.
1,000,000 credits.
A drop in the ocean compared to the hundreds of millions a first-rate guild like Dominant made daily.
Mark felt his stomach twist.
She wasn't just taking his guild. She was erasing him.
Sophia leaned back, stretching like a cat that had just devoured a helpless mouse. "If he follows the contract, he gets his little compensation and can go start a farm in some PvE game. If he doesn't?" She smiled. "Well… Dominant doesn't take kindly to loose ends."
More laughter. More toasts. More mockery.
Mark closed the stream.
His hands shook, his entire body trembling with an emotion far beyond rage.
This wasn't just about betrayal anymore.
They thought they had ended him.
They thought he would just disappear.
They were wrong.
Mark stared blankly at the screen, his vision blurring. His mind screamed, his body ached, but his soul—his very identity—felt like it had been ripped apart.
He had fought in wars, crushed enemies, and built a legacy that had stood for fifteen years. Yet, with a few lines of legalese and a signature, Sophia had erased him from existence.
A notification popped up on his HUD.
> Account Deletion Pending.
He could fight it. Try to find a loophole. But against Dominant? Against Sophia? The legal team of a first-rate guild was stronger than any sword or spell.
The walls of his apartment felt like they were closing in. The silence was suffocating.
With shaking hands, he pulled off his VR headset and tossed it onto the desk. The screen reflected his hollow stare back at him. Who was he now, without Dark Solution?
A bottle of whiskey sat on the counter. He wasn't much of a drinker, but tonight, it didn't matter.
He grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap off, and took a deep pull. The burn in his throat was nothing compared to the fire raging inside him.
Another swig. Then another.
By the time the room started spinning, the bottle was half-empty.
He slumped back into the chair, his limbs heavy. The world around him faded into a blur of bitterness and alcohol.
That was when the knock came.
Three slow taps.
Mark frowned. Who the hell would be at his door this late? Probably some delivery mistake. He ignored it.
Then the door unlocked.
His blurry mind barely processed it before the door creaked open, revealing Sophia.
But she wasn't alone.
Behind her stood two men—massive, broad-shouldered, dressed in black. Not gamers. Not friends. Hired muscle.
Mark blinked, his alcohol-fogged brain struggling to process the sight. "What… the hell… are you doing here?"
Sophia stepped inside, her heels clicking against the floor. She wore the same smirk from the guild meeting, but now, there was something else in her eyes. Disdain. Cold, detached cruelty.
She walked over, looking around his apartment like it was a trash heap. "You really let yourself go, huh?"
Mark forced himself upright, his instincts screaming that something was very, very wrong. "Get out."
Sophia tilted her head. "Or what?"
The two men stepped closer.
A pit formed in Mark's stomach. This wasn't some social visit. This was a hit.
His foggy brain tried to make sense of it. "What the hell is this?"
Sophia sighed, pulling a small holo-tablet from her bag. With a tap, she brought up the same contract she had shown in Dominant's guild meeting.
She turned the screen toward him. "This contract says you need to delete your account." Her gaze darkened. "But I don't trust you to stay gone."
Mark's blood ran cold. "This is just a game, Sophia."
Her smirk widened. "No, Mark. This was your life. And now it's over."
She turned to the two goons. "Make it look like an accident."
The first punch shattered his ribs.
Pain exploded through Mark's body as he crashed to the floor, the whiskey bottle smashing beside him. He gasped for breath, but another blow struck his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs.
They weren't playing.
Mark fought back, swinging wildly, but the alcohol dulled his reflexes. A fist cracked against his jaw, sending his vision spinning.
The beating was brutal. Precise. Efficient.
Each blow stripped away more of him—just like Sophia had stripped away his legacy.
As he lay on the floor, coughing up blood, he looked up at her.
Sophia crouched down, her expression unreadable. "You were always too sentimental. That's why you lost."
Mark tried to speak, but blood filled his mouth.
She leaned in, whispering the last words he would ever hear.
"Game over."
A final, crushing blow to his skull sent him into darkness.
The World Moves On
By the next morning, Mark's body was found in his apartment—officially ruled an accident. Alcohol poisoning. A tragic end for a once-great guild leader.
In Mortal Online, Dark Solution was already a forgotten memory. Sophia's name rose in power. Dominant continued its reign.
And Mark?
He was just another deleted account.
Darkness.
Mark's body lay broken, his mind slipping into the abyss. His senses dulled, his breath shallow. Pain faded into nothingness. This was death.
Yet beyond the veil of mortality, something stirred.
A place beyond time. A higher plane.
Here, existence was not bound by flesh, nor by the artificial constructs of a game. This was raw will, woven into the threads of fate. And within this boundless realm, they watched.
A council of gods.
Entities beyond comprehension, shrouded in cosmic energy, their voices reverberating across dimensions.
One, clad in celestial armor, spoke first. "Another soul discarded. His fate is sealed."
A second, wreathed in ever-shifting shadows, chuckled. "Sealed? No. This one is... different."
A third, with eyes like collapsing stars, peered into Mark's essence. "Stripped of power. Erased by betrayal. Yet even in death, his will burns."
A fourth, the eldest, leaned forward. "He has been wronged. The cycle of life and death has cheated him. Perhaps it is time we interfere."
The celestial-armored god frowned. "Intervention is forbidden."
The shadowed god grinned. "So is amusement, and yet, here we are, watching."
Their gazes fell upon the mortal soul adrift before them.
Mark.
A man cast aside. A leader betrayed. A warrior who lost everything.
And yet, he did not break.
The eldest god extended a hand. "Mark of Dark Solution... what do you desire?"
For the first time since his death, Mark moved.
His soul stirred, rising. The last remnants of his shattered consciousness coalesced into a single, burning thought.
Revenge.
The shadowed god laughed, voice thick with anticipation. "Good. Then let us give you the power to take it."
Lightning ripped across the void. Reality trembled. The gods reached out.
Mark's soul ignited. His form twisted, reforged in the crucible of divine will.
But just before the power took hold, a thought formed in his mind—a flicker of doubt.
"Why?" His voice, raw and unfamiliar, echoed through the void. "Why are you helping me?"
For a moment, silence. Then—laughter. Deep. Rumbling. Echoing through the cosmos.
The eldest god smirked. "I told you. He is interesting."
The celestial-armored god scoffed. "Too weak to understand now."
The shadowed god leaned in, grinning. "We will tell you when you satisfy us... in the game."
A chorus of laughter filled the void. The gods watched with anticipation.
Power surged.
Mark screamed as divine energy carved through him, shaping him into something new. Something unstoppable.
He would return.
Not as a man.
Not as a forgotten guild leader.
Not even as a player.
But as a god of vengeance.
And Mortal Online would tremble.