~6,037 words
Ayanokouji Kiyotaka
About a week had flown by already. During that time, there had been zero signs for help.
Before, most players had been living in the comfort of everyday life. They'd been studying in school, working their jobs, commuting through crowded streets—it was the kind of life so many people took for granted. Mundane, predictable, and—if you asked most of them back then—safe.
That life was now gone. Everyone in this game was starting to realize just how much they'd lost.
The first days were chaotic. Panic, confusion—everyone was scrambling to understand what had just happened. It was like watching an anthill that had just been kicked. Everyone ran in every direction.They shouted, screamed, or even called out for some kind of savior.
However, as the days dragged on, that initial stage of panic faded. The terrifying reality was starting to settle over the player base: everyone was trapped, and no one was coming to save us. By now, that despaired energy had all but drained from the faces around me. The expressions I saw didn't look panicked anymore. Instead, they looked hollow.
A few players were still in denial—clinging to the faint hope that maybe the logout button would just suddenly appear one morning. Mumbling things like, "This'll be fixed by next week," or "There's no way they're going to let this go on for long."
But that was wishful thinking.
On the other hand, tales of another group—which turned out to be the minority of the player base—had begun to circulate. They were the ones that had fully accepted their reality, and decided that cooperation brought about the best chance of survival.
I found it fascinating how quickly people can adapt to even the worst situations. Unlike those who chose to helplessly wait at the safe zone, they took it upon themselves to explore the world, trading items and valuable info to each other. I supposed players like those were this population's only hope of making any collective progress in this game.
As for me, I had made some progress of my own. After spending my time experimenting, I found that traveling and exploring for quests was hugely more efficient than repeatedly killing monsters while staying in one grinding area.
Still brandishing a balanced build for my character, I was now level 12. On top of the EXP and Col most common quests rewarded you with, most of them required you to kill specific monsters. As a result, I was able to grow my stats even in the middle of each quest.
However, I was yet to find another quest that granted a special item as a reward. I supposed that was where beta testers had the advantage over me—they were able to locate these secret quests without having to explore. Though, it would be foolish of them to assume everything in the game was exactly how it was in the beta test.
My «Anneal Blade», which now had a +4 to sharpness from my blacksmithing skill, was nothing short of overpowered. Just like Argo had said, I found that its stats were exceptionally higher after comparing it with other common weapons from the marketplace. If I aimed for critical strikes, my blade was able to cut through even the higher-level enemies in floor one.
The sun had dipped and another day had gone by, again. The perception of time here was quite...exaggeratingly fast. Perhaps it was attributed to the fact that I was putting my life in jeopardy by letting monsters attack me in hordes to gain some extra XP. Perhaps this is how grown-ups feel. People who are in the practical phase of their lives.
Which begs the question...what is the true definition of a 'grown-up.' Society insists on an answer: maturity, responsibility, independence. But these words are convenient labels, created by people to justify systems of authority and control. In reality, growing up isn't defined by age, achievement, or responsibility—those are external markers, meant to simplify a far more intricate transition. It is—
My monologue was rudely interrupted as a couple giggled and walked right in front of me, arms linked and eyes constantly locked. As one would expect, they did, as a matter of fact, kiss. There was a small contingent of people like this as well who disregarded everything—their real lives and this life as well.
Just living in the moment.
As the wind crushed the scent of freshly made stew on my face, I looked up into the pink hued sunset. There was a sense of hunger, despite knowing this simulacrum doesn't need nutrients.
Stretching my arms over my head, my back let out an audible crack. Hmm...that was oddly...what is this feeling? Perhaps satisfaction? However satisfaction is characterized as a rare, fleeting alignment between desire and reality. I should do more research into this.
As I was about to move towards the market to buy my usual order, I felt something. Or rather someone, running right behind me.
My upper body twisted and I turned back on a pure instinct. The sound of sword leaving its scabbard felt like a hushed whisper in the cacophony of the mingled voices in the market. The sword got alit as soon as the system recognised the pattern of the diagonal slash and soon after, my sword was traveling with a speed and force far beyond what I was physically capable of.
However, all that it met was wind.
"Hmm?" I hummed out loud. I was sure I was not seeing, or hearing things. I was confident enough. At least this much that what I heard was not the wind. Or well, it was, but it wasn't natural. It was someone who had made its presence known deliberately.
"So how's your new sword treating ya, frontliner?" Argo's voice was muted behind me as my muscles tensed. "Hey, what's the deal? I scare ya or something?"
"Oh." I let out a sigh. "Was that you?"
"Was what me?" She parroted before scanning her surroundings. She turned back to me and raised an eyebrow. "Finally gone insane, didja?"
"I would suppose so."
Argo's name had been spreading as 'The Rat,' given that she was one of the more well-known informants around. Apparently, in the beta, she'd been known to gather information and sell it to other players.
She always paid her sources for information she thought had value and only packaged it to sell once she'd confirmed the story's reliability. I supposed that even one bad piece of intel sold for money could destroy her reputation, so while it wasn't quite like gathering materials in dungeons to sell to NPCs, her business came with its own unique risks.
Argo adjusted her hood, settling in beside me. She leaned one shoulder against the wall, while her eyes scanned the marketplace with a catlike glint. "For a guy who's supposedly as calm as ice, ya really do look...tense."
"Can't be helped," I replied, shrugging. "With all that's happening, it'd be stranger if I didn't react at all."
Argo chuckled softly. "Heh, good point. Though not everyone's got the same instincts."
I noticed her gaze shifting across the square. Following her line of sight, I noticed some players bargaining with a blacksmith, while a few simply lounged.
"Y'know, it's kinda funny," she continued, "a lot of folks came here expecting an adventure. And now, they're stuck in a nightmare they can't wake up from. Ya think it'd unite people, but mostly, everyone's just split into groups."
"Groups make sense," I said. "People gravitate toward what feels safest, or what feels familiar."
"Guess that's why the info business is booming." She shifted her weight, looking off toward the players who huddled together in the corners of the marketplace. "They wanna know who they can trust, where the best farming spots are, which monsters to avoid... Hell, they'll pay a lot to keep feeling a little less helpless."
"That's observant of you," I said.
"Not everyone's as observant as you, frontliner," she replied with a playful jab. "But yeah, I'd say I've got a steady supply of business, and not just from the frontlines. Some folks just want to know where to find a decent meal or a quiet corner where the NPCs won't stare you down."
"Not everyone wants to adapt," I pointed out, glancing at a group of players who were laughing and clinking mugs, almost as if they were at a casual tavern. "Some are just avoiding reality."
Argo shrugged. "Can't blame 'em. Escaping into a role they're comfortable with, ignoring what they don't want to see... It's as much a survival tactic as any other. Just, ya know, not one that's gonna work for long."
I gave her a sidelong glance at her smirk. She caught me looking and raised an eyebrow. "What, got something to say, frontliner?"
"Not really. It was just interesting to hear how you think."
She laughed. "Trust me, it ain't that interesting."
The sunset had nearly faded, and the crowd in the marketplace had thinned out. Argo shifted off the wall, tucking her hands into the pockets of her cloak. "Well, frontliner, I'd better get going. I've got a client on my hands."
I gave her a brief nod. "See you around, I guess."
She smirked, tilting her head in a mock salute. "Same to you. Don't get reckless on me now—I need customers who aren't dead, yah?"
She turned, slipping into the crowd and disappearing into the shadows before I could blink. I watched where she'd gone for a moment before turning back toward the market.
After buying a simple meal from the marketplace, I made my way back to the small house I'd rented out—a modest, quiet spot at the edge of the safe zone, away from the usual crowd. I noticed that the sky had deepened to a velvet-like blue, dotted with stars flickering like scattered embers.
Just as I reached my door, a sudden gust of wind brushed past me, far stronger than before. I stopped in my tracks as I felt my spine prickle. Instinct took over, and my hand hastily glided to my sword. I turned sharply, but what I saw was no human figure.
Instead, it was a small, shimmering orb. A sphere of pale light, floating inches above the ground. I stared at it as it pulsed softly, but before I could take a step closer, the orb began to dissolve.
Just as it faded completely, a whisper slipped into my mind—a voice soft and low that seemed to drift in and out like an echo:
"Seek the path that bends with the breeze, where the air stirs but leaves no trace."
The whisper dissipated and left behind a lingering stillness. It felt almost expectant, as if it were waiting for my response.
I sighed, turning the words over, The path that bends with the breeze...
The wind had been blowing south when the orb appeared. If there was any direction to start with, it would be that.
Opening my inventory, I checked my supplies and slipped a few healing crystals into my hotbar. Crystals were a more efficient form of healing compared to potions. Unlike the latter, which required time to drink and could leave you vulnerable mid-battle, crystals were activated instantly with just a quick squeeze, and their effects were effective almost immediately. They were especially useful in a situation where every second could be a matter of survival.
***
It didn't take long before the landscape shifted during my travels. Rocky spires loomed against the darkening sky. They were incredibly weathered, as if they were ancient ruins left to crumble. Each peak was crowned with crumbling stone structures, looking like fragments of something that was now barely discernible.
As I scanned the area, my eyes caught a small campsite nestled at the foot of the mountains. The shadow of a figure, cast by the firelight, emerged from the camp. I observed them carefully, noting the absence of a player cursor above their head—an NPC, unmistakably.
The figure drew closer, stepping into the firelight, and I got a clearer look at her. She wore a faded cloak that held swirling designs that mirrored the wind.
"I am Lyra, the Windwalker," she said. "I sense that the winds have guided you here, stranger."
"Uh, hey. I'm Kiy—"
"There is a relic," she began, cutting me off. "The Blessing of the Feathered Gale. It lies hidden among the highest cliffs of the Towering Spires."
"The Blessing of the Feathered Gale?" I repeated.
She didn't offer further explanation of its purpose or power, instead she simply nodded and continued.
"To claim it, you must collect ten Falling Lights," she said. "They appear as glowing orbs, descending from the peak like meteors. As you ascend the cliffs, they will fall in bursts, quick and bright as lightning. You'll need to be swift, precise—leap, dodge, find your rhythm to gather them. Only by capturing each Falling Light can you prove yourself worthy of the blessing."
"And then?"
"When you have collected all ten, climb to the top and... free the spirit of the originator. Only then will the blessing be bestowed."
I studied her face, searching for any further clue. Her expression remained vacant, as if she were only reciting those words to pass on a message. It was like she was reading straight out of an ancient rite.
As Lyra finished speaking, a faint chime echoed in my ears, accompanied by a notification appearing in the corner of my vision:
[Quest Accepted: Trial of the Windwalker]
Objective: Collect 10 Falling Lights while ascending the Towering Spires.
Final Challenge: Free the spirit of the originator to obtain the relic.
Reward: ???
The flashing question marks on the reward line were enough to catch my attention. A secret quest, just like the one that led to my Anneal Blade. Special items or skills were always hidden behind obscure or high-difficulty quests like this one. That alone made it worth the effort.
The notification flickered and vanished as quickly as it had appeared. I turned back to Lyra, but her figure had already stepped away into the campsite, with only the faint glow of the firelight remaining.
The base of the spires was steep, jagged and unforgiving. As I began my ascent, there was a noticeable shift in the wind. It was no longer a gentle breeze—instead, it was an unrelenting current that buffeted against me. Each of my steps felt more precarious than the last, and the rocky outcrops seemed uneven and slick from the faint traces of dew.
The first Falling Light streaked from above. It was a radiant, comet-like orb that had a golden glow training behind it.
It fell down faster than I had anticipated, and my first attempt to leap for it was clumsy. The orb slipped just out of reach as my boots scraped across loose gravel.
Sliding back onto the ledge below, I steadied myself while analyzing its movement. It didn't take long for me to notice that the orbs were not random; instead, they followed a trajectory—a pattern, subtle but perceptible. Instead of taking action, my eyes traced the arc of the second Falling Light as it descended.
When the third one came, I was ready. I sprang forward with my arm outstretched, and felt the strange warmth of the orb dissolve into my hand.
[Obtained Item: Fragment of the Feathered Gale]
As I continued up the cliff, the path grew steeper. Jagged stone gave way to narrow ledges, and I had to be precise with my steps. The orbs, or Falling Lights, fell in unpredictable intervals now. Some of them clustered together, while others appeared after agonizing delays.
One of those orbs surged directly toward me. This time, I crouched low before launching myself upward, twisting my body midair to catch it. A sharp ache shot through my shoulder, reminding me that exhaustion still existed within this simulacrum.
By the time I reached the halfway point, I'd already gathered five orbs. My armor was quite light, so the wind was mercilessly robbing my body of its heat with each second that passed.
A trio of orbs shot downward simultaneously, fanning out across the ledge right above me, giving me no choice but to move quickly on the spot. Sprinting across the narrow edge, I vaulted over a crevice to catch the first one. I pivoted myself to catch the second one, then dove to snatch the third one just before it reached the ground.
The higher I climbed, the more fierce the winds became. At one point, a particularly strong gust sent me tumbling backward. I was able to save myself from falling as my hand instinctively shot out to grab a ledge.
Finally, after some time, I had eight orbs collected. The ninth Falling Light came from an unexpected angle, zipping past me horizontally. Whilst clinging onto a ledge, I lunged sideways and snatched the orb midair.
The final orb appeared just as I reached the summit. It hovered above—stationary for the briefest moment before plummeting straight down. After timing my jump, my fingers closed in around the orb before I finally landed on the ground again.
With all ten Falling Lights gathered, I stood at the summit. It was nothing like I'd expected—a medium-sized clearing, resembling an arena of sorts made of weathered stone. In any case, it was clear that this platform wasn't formed naturally.
The edges of the platform were surrounded by large, cracked pillars. Some were toppled, while some were half-buried into the stone-cold ground. The wind here was howling fiercely, but for some inexplicable reason, it didn't seem to touch the center.
There, at the heart of the arena, stood a giant statue.
The statue was of a figure that was carved from what seemed like blackened stone. Its features seemed almost serene and well-preserved despite its solemn pose. Its arms were outstretched, and at its feet, the ground had been worn smooth—a clear sign that people, possibly not players, had long stood here before me.
I approached cautiously while my eyes scanned my surroundings. That was when I noticed it—around the statue, in a circle, were empty slots set into the pillars. Ten in total.
It didn't take long for me to realize what they were for.
Each slot was just the right size for one of the Falling Lights I'd collected. Opening my inventory with a wave of my finger, I materialized each one in front of me. Afterward, I moved to the first slot and placed the first orb into its designated hole.
A low hum reverberated through the platform as the orb settled into place.
I repeated the process for the remaining orbs, letting each one click neatly into its slot. When the last orb clicked into place, the resounding hum grew louder, and the ground beneath me trembled slightly.
As the air grew thicker, I looked at the statue once again, realizing where the sound was coming from.
The grinding groan of the giant statue was eerily loud as icy green wisps started to pour out of the fractures that spiderwebbed the effigy. Gooseflesh roughened my skin up as I stood my ground, my hand ready to pull the Anneal Blade at any moment.
The wisps dipped and swirled into a smoky gray mist, filling the entire platform like water slowly breaking into the hull of a ship. And then it was solidifying. Scientifically speaking, solidifying smoke in its raw form should be impossible, however; this was a simulated environment, so I spent no time in admiring the phenomenon.
However, it still didn't take away the slight discomfort I was feeling.
Lack of data results in uncertainty. Uncertainty is a subtractive factor in the formula of failure, and divisory in survival. As the cocoon of smoke fully hardened, it swirled like the eye of a tornado before taking the shape of a...man.
Layers of tattered robes took shape around it, frayed and apparitional. Like the physical embodiment of the smoke itself. Beneath the hood were twin orbs of cold blue light, flaring, in place of where their eyes should've been. The glint pierced the darkness of the night like a hot knife through butter.
"I am Galecrest." The wraith? introduced itself, his words rasp, as if they were blown on a wind far older than both of us.
"Uhh, well, nice to meet you. I am Kiy—"
Before I could introduce myself, the wraith that was floating ten paces away from me suddenly blurred. The trail of ash and smoke that he left behind was the only indication that he had moved as I felt his bony hand right next to my face.
Shifting my weight back on my heels, I pivoted my body weight and looped to the side as the claw whooshed through the air. A cold chill seeped into my skin as the razor sharp appendage of energy sliced the air with a slight delay, grazing my cheek.
Planting my left foot back, I kicked the wraith, or tried to.
Before my leg was fully decompressed into a kick, he was already 11 paces away from me. An icy burn lingered into the slight graze I had suffered.
The sound of my Anneal Blade leaving its scabbard filled the air as I unsheathed it.
The creature was fast. Fast enough that I could barely dodge that attack. However; it wasn't just because of the speed. The way he moved...it was a feint in order to make me believe he was going to use a weapon. Since even until the attack had happened, I believed he was going to use something.
Hmm? Robes–the baggy robes make it hard to predict how he is going to react or attack. While I was thinking, the wraith attacked again in a straight path.
My eyes darted towards its feet, but even those were hidden beneath the robes. Bringing my blade up front, I began to charge a simple yet effective forward thrust.
However, the wraith decelerated in an instant and then vanished, leaving behind the same trail of ash and smoke like before.
For a split second, all I could hear was the wind and the charged hum of the sword skill.
A loud blur of something and I shifted my weight immediately backwards. The system took over and then I was hurtling forward like a comet. There was not much distance between us, however: the wraith twisted its body and jumped right above me.
The charged thrust pulled me with it, towards the edge of the platform.
Incredible speed coupled with inhumane acrobatics...this is...interesting.
I could feel my blood warm up again.
The wraith adjusted midair and flipped its body. However, this time, instead of a clawed attack, a one-handed scythe descended on me. Bringing my sword up barely in time, I blocked it.
Hmm? The force of the blow was there, no doubt but it felt...there was no weight behind it. Pushing it back, I brought my sword up to my shoulder, charging a diagonal slash and bolted towards it.
The wraith's scythe charged this time and then he appeared to my side.
There was no time to react. Not when the system was in the middle of executing the sequence. The scythe dug right under my lower rib and the following moment, my sword arced at nothing. There was a dull ache and a hot sensation that felt akin to a stab, but not really.
Hmm. This is strange. Can the sensation of being hurt virtually translate into my neural impulses? Since this hasn't happened before. The sensation wasn't exactly pain, yet my brain registered it as such.
Phantom pain—a psychological phenomenon where the brain reacts to sensory input—or the lack thereof—in a way that mimics pain. It's common for amputees to feel pain in a limb that no longer exists. In this case, the Nerve Gear was simulating damage to my body, and my brain is filling in the gaps as though it's real.
The scythe retracted, followed by a kick. Bringing my arm up, I absorbed most of the impact but my feet skidded backward, nearly losing ground on the narrow stone platform.
It boxed in again, but this time I reacted before it could accelerate. A flurry of sparks started to fly everywhere as I started to match its rhythm. The chill it left in its wake clung to me, sending prickles down my arms as I started to parry and block his scythe attacks, studying its every movement.
The platform we were fighting on was suspended high in the Towering Spires, a narrow circle of stone surrounded by dizzying drops on all sides. It was using the tight space to its advantage, ricocheting from edge to edge using the rapid acceleration and deceleration, hovering in place only long enough to strike before vanishing again, sometimes appearing on my left, then my right, then behind me.
This is so...interesting.
The longer the fight went, the more I understood. Small shifts in its posture as it hovered, slight changes in the way it leaned in just before a charge. There was a rhythm buried in its movements, a pattern to the wild gale. I could make out its movements and directional changes from the way his knees would poke out, even in the loose robes.
No matter how veiled they are, one needs to bend their knees to shift directions.
The platform feels like it's his playground, but it doesn't change one thing. And that is that no matter how familiar he is with this place, the options are limited.
Time to test a theory.
This time, as the Wraith closed in for another strike, I stepped deliberately backward, exposing my right side as if off-balance. Sure enough, it lunged, taking the bait with a sudden burst of acceleration.
Reacting on a pre-planned decision, I twisted sharply, letting its clawed arm swipe through empty air as I pivoted to the left, my own blade already moving in response. In one fluid motion, I brought my sword down in a powerful cross-slash, the arc of steel slicing clean through the Wraith's torso.
The Wraith upper half flew high in the air, it's cold eyes flickering in something close to artificially simulated surprise.
Its form wavered, as though disrupted, and for a moment, I saw its mouth open as if to scream—but no sound emerged. Instead, it began to splinter, threads of blue energy unspooling from its body and breaking apart like ashes scattered on the wind. The remains of the Wraith dissolved into a series of shimmering polygons that drifted upward, disappearing into the starless sky above us.
"Huh...?"
I let out an exasperated sigh.
Did it just die...just like that?
In the spot where the wraith was, a glowing orb floated still in the air, shimmering brightly as if to illuminate the fog around the arena. I immediately assumed this was a Falling Light, but I realized this one was bigger, more colorful compared to the orbs from before.
Almost instinctively, I reached out for it. Just as my fingers made contact, a menu—or rather, panel—immediately appeared, obstructing my vision.
[Choose.]
An assortment of items, each one outlined with a holographic glow, began to float around me. Breastplates, shirts, accessories—one attribute they all had in common was the consistent accent color of dark gray. I hummed out loud, looking around and evaluating my options.
Immediately, a single piece of clothing caught my eye—a sleek, full-body cloak with a hood. A cloak that could conceal my features seemed like the perfect choice, because in this world, anonymity was as much of a tool as any weapon.
I selected the Feathered Gale's Hood, and with a brilliant flash of light, the orb disintegrated, leaving behind the cloak in my hands. The fabric felt soft, and the overall design felt elegant—a testimony to this item's rarity.
Inspecting its stats immediately, my eyes scanned over its details. Its modifier, The Blessing of the Feathered Gale, gave its user a 300% percent increase in agility. It seemed almost too good to be true, so I continued down the list of stats—only to realize I had hit the mark.
Defense Penalty: -80%
So the reason I'd been able to kill the Wraith in one shot was due to the cloak's modifier. The increased agility allowed it to move considerably faster than it should have, but the trade-off was clear. It worked by reducing the mass of a body. Lesser mass reduces the momentum required to deliver forceful attacks.
That should explain why I felt the lack of actual impact behind the scythe attack.
Despite the defense debuff, the cloak's agility boost was game-changing. It would make me nearly untouchable by players on my level—something I could use to my advantage if I ever needed to ambush someone or evade an encounter altogether.
I glanced at the quest log in my vision, noting it was now marked as [Completed]. For now, I stored the cloak in my inventory, knowing that its time would come when I needed it most.
As I turned around, I suddenly came to a stop, my face inches away from the NPC—Lyra.
"Congratulations, WindWalker. You have successfully completed the trial of Galeforce and become the lightbearer."
Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared. I am sure this is against basic etiquette. To not let someone complete their sentences.
Letting out a tired sigh and breaking a crystal which healed the small wound into my side, I shuffled my feet around. The journey here was rewarding, but I have to walk a lot. And I can't use the cape since there is a danger of someone seeing me.
Since this quest hasn't been talked about, it's bound to be either a secret quest or something entirely new.
"You...!" A low grumble made me turn my head towards the source of the voice.
"Hmm?"
It was a boy. Two years older than me. He was wearing a breastplate over a casual nightdress and a giant ax strapped to his back. He quickly walked over to me and saw the cloak being stashed away in my inventory.
"You...how?! I should be the only beta tester who knew about this quest...you dare steal my quest?" He growled with frustration and indignation.
"I am not sure if that solidifies your claim to this or any quest," I reasoned, tilting my head slightly, pretending to weigh his words. My hand unconsciously brushed against the hilt of my Anneal Blade, a lingering instinct after the fight with the wraith. My senses were heightened—too heightened—and my gaze flicked over him, dissecting every detail.
His armor was durable but it bore scratches suggesting recent fights? missions? Physical altercation?
The hand gripping his ax trembled ever so slightly—whether from rage or exhaustion, I couldn't tell---and his stance gave way to a critical detail: his weight shifting back and forth, an indicator of unease, not confidence.
A beta tester, someone with prior knowledge, but also... someone who knows this quest is different. I felt my thoughts take a coherent shape.
Deduction one: He's aware this is a one-time quest. Which is news to me as well.
If the quest were repeatable, he'd have no reason to confront me. The cooldown period could easily be exploited to try again later. And this was a particularly difficult task, he doesn't need to worry about it being hoarded. No, this wasn't about waiting—it was about opportunity. A fleeting one.
"It was a limited time quest, hmm?"
His grip tightened on the ax, knuckles whitening, and his eyes narrowed. His pupils contracted—a microreaction signaling an escalation. He's preparing to attack.
I took a slow step forward, letting my hand fall from my blade. An open, relaxed posture. A calculated risk.
Deduction two: He believes intimidation will give him an advantage. He's wrong.
His anger was palpable—thick, simmering like a storm cloud ready to burst. The way he stood, rigid and trembling with frustration, was no longer about the words exchanged. The tension in his every muscle spoke louder than his voice ever could. No, the bitterness had festered beyond mere insults. He was beyond reasoning now.
The ax would come first. I knew it before he even shifted his weight, before the glare in his eyes hardened into something far less human. That's it. Humans devolve when they act on constraints called emotions.
The ax will swing wide, exploiting the range of the weapon with his right hand–which is the dominant one—evident from him favoring that side. Dead giveaway. He was a brawler, someone who relied on overwhelming strength and reach to dominate.
I felt his breath quicken as he tensed, gathering the strength to swing that ax. A weak point—he was already planning the strike, his thoughts locked in that one course of action.
He's predictable.
The motion would be wide, designed to catch me off guard, to batter me down with pure force. It was a classic move for someone like him, relying on power over precision.
The second his muscles twitched, I shifted just enough to the right. Barely a step, but the movement was enough to confuse his timing. My blade was already in motion, unsheathing fluidly, barely making a sound. The air parted around it like water as I cleaned through the air.
His ax came down with a roar, but it met nothing but the ground where I had been a heartbeat before. The sound of metal hitting earth reverberated.
Before the shock of missing could even register on his face, I closed the gap between us with a single step. His stance was already faltering, his weight too far forward, the follow-up swing coming too late. He was already overextended.
The moment was perfect. Just as I had envisioned.
I moved in closer, my blade flashing as I redirected it, placing the tip of my sword at the juncture of his throat. The cold steel against his skin made him freeze, sealing his movements.
His breath hitched, and for the first time since this encounter began, I saw a flicker of hesitation. His eyes darted to the sword, then back to me, realization dawning as his rage began to ebb into fear.
I leaned in, ever so slightly. "I'd advise that it would be wise for you to keep your lips shut tight." My eyes locked onto his, and I could feel the tremor in his hand tightening around his ax, but not daring to lift it. "Consider your next moves very carefully. Because..."
I leaned closer still, pressing the sword just enough. His pulse was a frantic beat under his skin, against my sword. "...I'll be keeping a close eye on you."
The silence stretched as I stepped back, retracting my blade with care. His ax trembled in his grip, barely clinging to his hand as if it were a foreign object. He didn't even seem to know what to do with it anymore.
A quick defeat which renders the opponent in a despair like state where he can't do anything. It is the best way to deal with prideful humans like him.
I didn't wait for him to speak and turned around. The conversation had ended the moment I had drawn my sword.
But there was something more I needed to make clear.
"Just one more thing," I said, my voice carrying over my shoulder as I began to turn away. "I'd keep your mouth shut if I were you." I casually reached for my Message Recording Crystal and played his audio message—the audio message of his own admission to being a beta tester. "There's a rising prejudice against your kind. You don't want to add fuel to that fire." I paused and pondered over my words. "Or become the very fuel that will further ignite it."
"Gruh..." His face twisted into a grimace, a low growl of frustration escaping him as the truth sank in.
But he remained still. No movement. No more defiance.
He was well-aware of the invisible but fragile balance of this world's playerbase. Leaking this audio would only confirm the players' suspicions that beta testers were hoarding secrets to themselves. Thus, igniting a wildfire of distrust.
With a final glance over my shoulder, I started walking away, towards the town, towards my bed. I didn't need to look back. He wouldn't follow.
The shame, the defeat, the crushing weight of his inability to act—it was all too much. He was finished. But most of all...I have intel on a beta-tester's identity now.
Hmmm. Seems like things will get a little easy. For now.
(****)
A/n Leave a vote and comment anything you'd like to see. You can join the discord too if you wanna be a bit more naughty.
That's about it for the a/n. Cya all next week.