In the heart of the Lamdal Capital, Starlight Castle stood tall as an absolute symbol of power.
Within the war room that served as the base for the Pioneer Guild, twenty-three chairs encircled a massive, circular ebony table. In the grandest, most intricately carved seat at the head of the table sat the guildmaster, Alphonse.
He rested his chin on his hand, staring blankly at the rows of chairs as they began to fill. Alphonse had pitch-black hair with a slightly messy cut, yet he somehow maintained an air of effortless elegance.
Contrasting his dark hair, a pair of glowing golden eyes gazed sharply from behind a golden monocle, which was attached to his collar by a thin chain. Those eyes radiated a deep analytical brilliance, coupled with a dense, magical aura.
He wore a pitch-black outer robe adorned with intricate gold embroidery along its edges. Whenever he moved, the deep maroon interior of the robe peeked through, granting him the demeanor of a mysterious nobleman.
White wolf fur lining his shoulder collar accentuated his imposing silhouette. Beneath the robe, a gold-buttoned black vest wrapped around a pristine white shirt, finished with a classic ascot tie.
Hovering calmly just to his right was the Stella Obscura—a black crystal the size of a fist. Inside the crystal, a miniature nebula spun slowly, radiating the light of trapped stars.
Noting that all members were present, Alphonse glanced at the clock in the corner of his system interface.
The server update was imminent, and his instincts as a Guild Master anticipated the bloodiest war in the history of Orion Online. He knocked on the ebony table twice with his knuckles.
The sound was not loud, but it was enough to bring all chatter to a dead halt. Twenty-two pairs of eyes now locked onto him.
The atmosphere in the room shifted entirely in a fraction of a second. It transitioned from a casual gathering of friends into the command center of a military general.
Alphonse's golden eyes gleamed. He raised his left hand.
[Tier C - Holographic Display]
A gigantic holographic map now blanketed the entire table. Mountains, valleys, and rivers of an unseen continent were laid bare for all to see.
"Before this meeting officially commenced, I managed to extract the topography of the new continent using my ultimate skill," Alphonse explained, his tone shifting to utter seriousness.
"Observe carefully. This new continent was birthed from massive spatial turbulence. The side effect? All spatial displacement skills, including the game's default portal and teleportation systems, are completely disabled there."
Surprised murmurs echoed around the table.
"This means that any player wishing to explore must travel on foot or rely on flying mounts," Alphonse continued.
His index finger tapped the air, highlighting three specific points on the map that instantly glowed red. "Obsidian Canyon, Silvery Gulf, and the Shattered Plains."
"These three areas are the sole land routes connecting the safe landing zones to the resource-rich interior of the continent."
Alphonse leaned back into his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "Vrischil, liquidate our entire guild treasury. Buy and hoard every mana stone currently circulating in the market, regardless of the cost."
Across the table, Vrischil gave a slow nod. Her pointed Elven ears twitched slightly in response to the command.
Her face was beautiful yet exuded a fierce authority through her piercing gaze. Her silver hair cascaded gracefully down to her waist, adorned with a small braid on one side that added a touch of elegance.
The ends of her hair faded into a soft turquoise gradient, as if pure magic flowed through the strands, complemented by a blue, crystal-wing hairpin. As a Core Member, her attire reflected the identity of an elite warrior.
She wore an asymmetrical combat suit of black and dark gray, interspersed with bright turquoise accents and gold detailing. Her shoulder and arm guards featured sharp designs, perfectly matching the Fractal Ruin—a crystal-bladed one-handed sword with a silver hilt resting quietly against her chair.
"Meanwhile, once the update concludes, the core forces of Pioneer will not hunt monsters or seek out mines. You will immediately occupy and fortify these three routes."
Silence washed over the war room as the minds of twenty-two elite players processed their guildmaster's strategy.
"The Three Emperors will undoubtedly deploy their main forces straight to the center of the continent to secure the World Boss," Alphonse stated casually.
"While the other Kings will be busy fighting over mining territories. They will completely overlook these three chokepoints."
"Conquering the World Boss will take days, and the territorial wars between the Kings will burn through thousands of mana stones for magic artillery and recovery."
A faint smile formed on Alphonse's lips. "When their logistics run dry mid-battle, they will turn to the market and realize... the market has been bled dry. Not a single mana stone remains."
Vrischil's eyes widened as she grasped the logical conclusion of the strategy. "They will be forced to purchase from us, the sole monopolizers of the market, at exorbitant prices."
"Precisely," Alphonse nodded. "And when their supply lines must transport the newly acquired mana stones from the safe zones to the interior... they must pass through the territories we already control."
On the other side of the table, Arcus flashed a wide grin. His appearance exuded high social status.
He wore a sharply tailored maroon trench coat decorated with intricate gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. Beneath that aristocratic coat, a gold-buttoned vest encased a crisp white shirt and a matching tie, creating a visually striking contrast.
His golden-blonde hair was left slightly long and naturally unkempt. It framed a calm face that harbored the sharp focus of a combat unit general.
He looked at his childhood friend with a mixture of awe and mild terror. One of his hands rested casually near the Sirius Piercer—a wooden bow carved with constellations that constantly emitted a faint glow at his side.
"You truly are a devil. We sell them the goods, and then we exact a heavy toll when they try to transport those very goods. A double extortion."
"Let us simply call it a 'route security fee'," Alphonse corrected lightly.
Instantly, the room erupted into cheers and laughter from the members of Pioneer. The tension of welcoming a new continent was replaced by a burning anticipation.
Before their laughter could subside, the majestic toll of a bell echoed from the castle ceiling. In the peripheral vision of every player, a semi-transparent, crimson UI forced its way onto the screen.
[SERVER ANNOUNCEMENT: THE NEW ERA UPDATE WILL COMMENCE]
[TIME REMAINING: 00:03:00]
Three minutes.
Alphonse rose from his chair, his aura turning razor-sharp. "Meeting adjourned! Equip all your primary gear!"
The relaxed atmosphere evaporated in an instant. The sound of clashing metal rang out as all the members of Pioneer stood up in unison.
Vrischil swiftly checked the scabbard of her Fractal Ruin, while Arcus gripped his bow tightly, his jovial expression replaced by the intense focus of a predator.
[00:00:10]
[00:00:09]
"I will see you all on the other side, Pioneer," Alphonse declared firmly.
As the digits hit zero on the UI, a blinding flash of white light swept through the entire room.
The stone walls of Starlight Castle, the grand pillars, and the bodies of the twenty-three players faded. They shattered into millions of luminous pixels, forcefully pulled into the heavens before the server fully disconnected into darkness.
In Wealden, a city enclosed by towering stone walls, the citizens went about their daily routines beneath the scorching sun.
Wealden's market district was flooded with a sea of humanity. The shouts of merchants hawking fresh vegetables and woven fabrics echoed against one another.
These sounds melded with the clinking armor of adventurers restocking their supplies, accompanied by the rhythmic march of iron boots from patrolling guards. On street corners, young children ran about, chasing stray dogs.
Garrick, a veteran guard with greying hair and a scar across his cheek, glared sharply at his younger comrade. Elian, a guard with less than a year of service, was leaning against his spear with half-closed eyes, yawning widely.
"Straighten your back, rookie," Garrick growled, lightly kicking Elian's iron sabatons. "You are guarding the city gates, not herding sheep."
"Why have you been yawning since sunrise? We are paid to remain vigilant," the veteran continued.
Elian rubbed his watery eyes and forced a grin. "My apologies, Uncle Garrick. The weather is far too warm."
"Besides... I was up late last night at the 'Red Rose' brothel," the youth chuckled. "Lily, my favorite girl, was incredibly aggressive. My back feels like it's about to snap."
Garrick scoffed in disgust. He gripped the hilt of his sword, prepared to deliver a moral lecture to the young man. "You useless youth. Wasting your hard-earned wages just to satisfy your lusts at—"
Garrick's reprimand was cut short. Elian suddenly flinched.
The drowsiness vanished from the young man's face, instantly replaced by a pale expression of absolute shock. He raised a trembling hand, pointing toward the expanse of blue sky behind Garrick's back.
"Uncle... up there. F-falling stars!" Elian shouted.
Garrick furrowed his brow in annoyance. "Are you still drunk? There are no falling stars in broad dayli—"
As the veteran guard turned around, the words died in his throat.
The cloudless daytime sky had been torn asunder by hundreds of brilliant lights. Streaks of multicolored fire plummeted from the heavens, dragging blinding tails of light behind them.
The earth appeared to be showered by magical meteors descending in absolute silence.
Garrick was mesmerized for a few seconds, rooted to the spot by the unnatural beauty of the cosmic spectacle. However, his warrior's instinct quickly took over.
Realizing that the objects were hurtling toward the earth at breakneck speeds, Garrick turned and sprinted toward the warning bell in the center of the watchtower.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
"FALLING STARS! TAKE COVER! EVERYONE, TAKE COVER!" Garrick's roar echoed throughout the market.
Panic erupted instantly. The previously peaceful crowd descended into chaos. Merchants abandoned their wares, mothers screamed while clutching their children, and people scrambled desperately for shelter.
From atop the tower, Garrick watched one of the massive luminous projectiles nosedive toward the Eastern Forest, just a few miles from Wealden's city walls.
He gripped the stone battlements, shut his eyes tightly, and braced his muscles for the shockwave of an explosion that would surely decimate everything.
One second. Three seconds. Ten seconds.
A profound silence reigned. The devastating explosion he expected never came. There were no earthquakes, no thunderous booms.
Hesitantly, Garrick opened his eyes. The sky was a pristine blue once more. The lights had vanished without a trace, as if the apocalyptic phenomenon just moments ago was nothing but a collective optical illusion.
Garrick's breathing was still erratic. His heart pounded fiercely. Down below, the frantic screams of the citizens still raged on, proving that what had just occurred was no mere waking dream.
The scent of damp earth, fresh grass, and pine needles pierced his olfactory senses.
Alphonse regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, squinting as sunlight pierced through the gaps in the dense forest canopy above. The chirping of birds echoed around him, accompanied by a cool breeze that swept across his face.
This was not his gaming pod.
He sat up, taking in his surroundings with a furrowed brow. Rows of towering trees, untamed thickets, and moss clinging to damp boulders filled his vision.
"Where is this?" he muttered softly.
Right by his side, the Stella Obscura floated tranquilly. The miniature nebula within the black crystal spun slowly, radiating a familiar, magical luminescence.
Alphonse touched the monocle on his face, then felt the wolf fur on his collar. He was still wearing his in-game avatar's attire.
Shouldn't the system have automatically logged him out and sent his consciousness back to his real body on Earth when the server update began? Why was he still here?
His gaze focused straight ahead. It was completely clear.
There was no User Interface (UI). No red HP bar, no blue Mana bar, no minimap in the corner of his eye, and no digital clock. His vision was entirely rooted in reality, stripped of any augmented reality filters from Orion Online.
Alphonse tried waving his hand in the air, performing the specific gesture to open the menu. "Menu."
No panel materialized.
"Log out. Status. Guild," he commanded in rapid succession.
Nothing. There was absolutely no response from the system.
Faced with this anomaly, Alphonse did not panic. His analytical and rational mind immediately began processing the available variables.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a fleeting moment of apprehension washing over him before cold logic took the reins. The oxygen entering his lungs felt unimaginably pure. He could feel the humidity on his skin and the gentle warmth of the midday sun.
This level of realism far exceeded the neural simulation capabilities of even the most advanced gaming capsules.
He opened his eyes once more. An absurd speculation crossed his mind.
Have I reincarnated? Into a real world governed by the same laws as the game?
In the past, Arcus would endlessly ramble about fantasy novels and comics with this exact plotline, adopting an annoyingly hopeful tone. Alphonse had always dismissed it as trashy, fictional nonsense.
Yet now, he was the lead actor in this very scenario.
Alphonse stood up. The moment his boots touched the ground, he realized something. His body felt as light as a feather.
The chronic fatigue, stiff posture, and physical weakness of his modern human body on Earth had vanished. In their place, he felt a surge of pure energy pulsating fiercely through his veins. A new power lived within his flesh—a dense and expansive magical might.
Curiosity took hold of him. He walked toward a colossal oak tree, easily two meters in diameter.
Taking a short breath, Alphonse clenched his right fist and threw a straight punch at the trunk without using a single damage-boosting skill. It was a purely instinctual movement.
BAM!
The sound of exploding wood echoed through the forest. His fist pierced the bark and the dense fibers inside as if the tree were made of wet paper.
The trunk shattered to pieces at the point of impact. The upper structure of the tree lost its balance, groaned violently, and ultimately collapsed. It fell with a deafening crash that shook the earth and sent flocks of birds scattering into the sky.
Alphonse retracted his hand. He stared at his knuckles. There were no scrapes, nor the slightest hint of pain. Only a few wood splinters clung to his gloves.
He stood in silence for a moment, genuinely amazed by his own brute physical strength.
"Damn... am I Superman now?"
However, that momentary euphoria was swiftly extinguished by his logic. Physical strength alone was not enough. He needed to ascertain exactly how much of his equipment had crossed over to this world.
Alphonse raised his hand, attempting the downward swiping gesture typically used to summon the Inventory space. In Orion Online, this motion would conjure a panel displaying hundreds of dimensional storage slots.
His hand merely sliced through empty air.
Alphonse's brow furrowed. He tried again, this time focusing his mind, visualizing the dimensional pocket dimension where he kept thousands of gold coins, rare materials, and backup weaponry.
Nothing. There was no spatial distortion. No interface screen.
He looked down, inspecting his silk robes, the monocle, and the Stella Obscura floating faithfully beside him. His hand traced the leather belt at his waist, discovering a small pouch he had equipped as an accessory for quick access to emergency potions.
He unfastened the pouch; nestled inside were two glass vials containing crimson liquid and five thumb-sized mana crystals.
A chilling reality struck his mind.
"The inventory is gone as well," Alphonse muttered softly. "Only equipped items have become reality."
Every single item stored within the inventory... vanished. Erased alongside the death of the game.
A harsh rustling from behind the bushes interrupted his train of thought. Alphonse turned slowly.
From behind the dense, dark green foliage, a pair of glowing red eyes stared at him with ravenous hunger. A wolf the size of a pony stepped into the clearing.
Its fur was a dirty grey, as sharp as needles, while thick, sticky saliva dripped from its unhinged jaws. Merely by observing its silhouette, Alphonse's memories instantly identified the creature. A Dire Wolf.
In Orion Online, it was nothing more than a level 15 monster, frequently used as a punching bag for novice players looking to level up. The giant wolf let out a low growl, baring fangs as long as daggers.
"Even low-level monsters like a Dire Wolf look quite terrifying when they become real," Alphonse commented, his flat tone contrasting sharply with the threat before him.
As if provoked by the utter calmness of its prey, the Dire Wolf howled in fury and lunged forward. Its massive body sailed through the air at breakneck speed. Its jaws opened wide, aiming straight for the neck.
Alphonse did not dodge. He merely raised his left arm to shield his face.
The wolf's jaws clamped down with bone-crushing force right onto Alphonse's left arm. However, the razor-sharp fangs scraped violently against the fabric of his legendary-tier robe.
Instead of tearing flesh, the monster's teeth slipped, completely halted by the garment. Alphonse did not even feel a twinge of pain; the pressure felt comparable to the bite of a small puppy.
The Dire Wolf's eyes widened in confusion. Alphonse did not let the opportunity slip. With his right hand, he seized the wolf by the thick scruff of its neck.
Channeling his newly acquired physical strength, Alphonse hoisted the beast—weighing hundreds of kilograms—into the air, before slamming it ruthlessly into the hard clay beneath him.
CRACK!
The earth trembled. The sound of shattering ribs and a snapping spine rang out, sharp and horrific.
The Dire Wolf spat out black blood, howling in sheer despair and agony as all of its internal organs were pulverized by the sheer gravitational force and monstrous strength behind the blow.
Alphonse stood tall, allowing the wolf to convulse helplessly at his feet.
He looked down, inspecting the left sleeve of his robe, which remained entirely pristine without a single thread out of place. However, his brow immediately furrowed in disgust upon seeing the foul-smelling saliva sticking to the luxurious silk.
With an expression of pure apathy, he lifted his heavy boot and stomped down on the dying wolf's neck with one decisive strike.
Snap.
The monster's neck bone fractured completely. Its body went limp instantly, dead.
Alphonse flicked the residual filth from his hand, gazing down at the massive carcass with a look of absolute disdain.
"I hope in your next life you become a domesticated lapdog," Alphonse said casually, "so your master can help you brush your teeth."