The room smelled of mold and stale coffee. No light entered through the windows, which were eternally shrouded by thick curtains featuring anime prints. The walls were overtaken by posters, action figures, and shelves of manga—a sanctuary carefully assembled by someone who had long since given up on the real world. At the center of this profane temple of otaku culture sat a peeling leather gamer chair: the throne of a king without subjects.
And here he came.
With slow, weary steps, the 32-year-old man pushed open the bedroom door like someone returning from a war. His crumpled dress shirt, deep dark circles, and bloodshot eyes screamed that he had pushed himself too far once again. But as he closed the door behind him, something shifted. The tension in his shoulders ebbed away, and a smile began to form.
— Finally...
He tossed his work clothes onto an indistinct pile of laundry. A generous gulp of cold coffee straight from the thermos made him shudder.
— Today is the big day... The greatest event in Supreme Challenge Online 2 is about to begin... and it's going to be historic.
He sat in the chair and switched on the PC—a machine built over years, every part acquired through sweat, overtime, and the sacrifice of basic luxuries like dining out. The cooling fan roared like a waking dragon. Upon loading, the game displayed its interface: a medieval crest of a golden angel and demon against a black background. Epic music filled the stuffy room.
He then selected his character.
On the screen, an imposing warrior emerged with long silver hair and golden eyes that shimmered like cursed jewels. Her armor was ornate, composed of black plates with gold detailing and encrusted mystic gems. The name hovered above her: FatalPrincess.
— Let's enchant the plebeians — he said with a low chuckle.
But behind the digital beauty stood a single man with no social life, whose existence was summarized by office shifts and the infinite grind of DSO2. Yet, in that avatar, he had everything: power, respect, adoration, and control.
Supreme Challenge Online 2, known as DSO2, was a colossus among the most advanced MMORPGs. Unlike its competitors, the game followed no predefined narrative: every event, every geopolitical shift, was a direct result of player actions. Factions rose and fell. Empires grew, seized territory, negotiated treaties, or tore them up like scrap paper.
And at the top of the chaos reigned FatalPrincess.
In the DSO2 community, she was a legend among the legends of the lore itself. Some idolized her as a digital goddess. Others worshipped her with religious fervor. She was the subject of fanfics, heated forum discussions, and, unfortunately for the player behind her, extremely NSFW fanart.
But no one knew that FatalPrincess was just a guy living on minimum wage, typing from a dark room in the middle of a Tuesday night.
The guild Odin's Golden Residence was a digital palace of marble and gold, erected by hundreds of players over years of progress and investment. When the character entered the guild's main lobby, the chat exploded.
[Global] FatalPrincess has entered the Guild Hall. [PM] LadyFleur: OMG! You're back, Princess! 😍 [PM] RickTheGreat: Want to party up, just the two of us? ;) [PM] SwampDanger: WHAT IS YOUR TYPE OF MAN?????
The man burst out laughing.
— Just pretend to have a bit of feminine tact and that's it, these idiots melt...
With agile hands, he began to type.
[Guild] (Vice-Leader) – FatalPrincess: Greetings, noble companions of the crusade. I pray to the Goddess of the Dawn that she protects your pure hearts in the dark times to come.
The chat went wild.
[Guild] SirBlack: SHE IS SO DAMN CUTE [Guild] (Leader) PatoManco: Fatal... you are the soul of our crusade.
This PatoManco, a player in golden armor so bright it was almost blinding from all the "cash" items, was the Guild Leader. A dedicated player, stronger than necessary, and absolutely obsessed with the FatalPrincess persona. The man knew this. It was through this weakness that he had secured the position of Vice-Leader and began manipulating the guild from behind the mask of a perfect princess.
— My subjects, the hour has come! It is public knowledge that we have been invaded by barbarians who think they own our lands. Therefore, we must show them that this land already has masters, and they are mistaken if they think they can wander and consume our valuable resources. These noble lands are ours! — FatalPrincess's words resonated.
— Glory to Odin! — the players screamed in the chat.
Behind the war, there was a Plan.
The war against the Nhyr Empire was no accident. It had been meticulously orchestrated by FatalPrincess over several months.
It all began with the Mystic Dragon Hunt, an annual event that could only be activated with an extremely rare legendary item: the Tear of Ignarion. These items appeared only once every lunar cycle and were protected by dungeons that were nearly impossible to beat, making farming them almost a mandatory task before the event.
Except FatalPrincess had already managed to acquire every single one of those limited, rare items.
Unofficially, of course. Using multiple ghost accounts and exploiting vulnerabilities in the player market system—along with some cash that surely left a hole in his bank account—he managed to buy the Tears from his own guild and even from other players who were confronted by his alt accounts. He created fake logs using the names of Nhyr members, tampered with combat information on Odin's internal reporting servers, and left carefully planted clues in the shared files of the game's most famous guilds.
In the end, everything pointed to Nhyr having betrayed the peace treaties. This sparked immense outrage among the members of Odin and Nhyr, who began fighting whenever they crossed paths. This led to a massive riot from other guilds and solo players who no longer had peaceful spaces to play due to the widespread conflicts across the server.
During an Odin leadership meeting, she presented the "Evidence."
— These records show that the Nhyr sub-faction invaded two of our dungeons and extracted all the key items for the Event. As a result, we have lost four entire events that we can now only perform next year.
— This... this is an open attack — PatoManco said, clenching his fists.
— Exactly. I do not like where this is heading; these Dungeon thieves are causing brawls with our loyal subjects across the map... I see no other way to resolve this... I recommend... war.
The meeting with Nhyr took place in a grand digital arena, where leaders from both guilds appeared with their avatars in ceremonial attire. The floor was white stone, and blue flames burned in the braziers around them.
FatalPrincess stood at the center alongside PatoManco and the Odin members, all surrounded by elite players from each side.
On the other side, SinFonyr, the leader of Nhyr, stared back with a frustrated expression.
— Man, this is a joke. I've told you before, we didn't invade any territory. This dungeon story is a setup.
— A setup? — she said, in a calm and noble tone. — Tell that to the war orphans who will not see their dragons resurrected this season. Our noble and loyal players lost precious hours of gameplay because of this breach of peace.
— Man, for God's sake... — muttered SilenceKiller, the vice-leader of Nhyr. — There are people here who are going to end up losing their jobs because of this fight. Yesterday alone, we were attacked fifteen times by Odin members. No matter how many players we have, this fight is pushing everyone to the limit.
— So be it — FatalPrincess replied with glacial coldness. — In Odin, we prize our honor. Our members are ready to fight to the end for our rights. Even if they lose something... they will have lost fighting for justice, defending their homes from heretical invaders and dungeon profaners.
Her inflammatory way of speaking ignited not only the fear of the enemy leaders who wanted to avoid a groundless war, but also PatoManco's spirit of conquest.
— Like my vice-leader said, there will be no peace. You took our tears, and now we will respond in kind and take your hides. — PatoManco declared.
The war lasted four days and four nights. Players around the world camped in front of their PCs. Keyboards were broken. Relationships ended. People were fired. But in the end, Odin won.
67,000 Odin players waged a historic war, defeating 228,000 Nhyr players, making this event the greatest "steamroll" in the history of modern RPGs.
Absolute victory.
The new guild, born from the forced merger of the two, was named the Sovereign Empire. And FatalPrincess, now at the top of the game, possessed the loyalty... or the fear... of nearly 300,000 players.
Back in the real world, the man laughed, exhausted. His eyes were fixed on an empty energy drink bottle next to the keyboard.
— That was... Epic.
A chat window flickered.
[PM] PatoManco: We've come a long way, haven't we? [PM] PatoManco: You know... I'd like to meet you one of these days. I think we have a real connection, you know?
The man froze.
— Oh... damn it.
[PM] FatalPrincess: I apologize... this is not an appropriate time for personal conversations. [PM] FatalPrincess: I must depart... urgent matters require my attention.
And he logged out.
His body was screaming. His back felt broken, and his eyes burned—the result of a long, four-day crusade in front of a computer screen, living on nothing but coffee and instant noodles. He went to the fridge, grabbed another energy drink, and drank it straight from the bottle.
Checking the time quickly, he noticed he'd have to go to work soon. He headed to the bathroom and stripped off his clothes. His exhausted body throbbed; sharp pains in his chest were ignored. He simply stepped into the stall and turned on the shower. The hot water hit his face.
Then, a strange sensation washed over his body.
Dizziness. A racing heart. The world spinning.
— Shit... what the hell is this? Am I... dying?
He tried to step out of the shower stall, but he slipped. The floor rushed up like a divine slap.
— But... I came so far. Am I really dying...? Damn it, my empire. I didn't even finish the Que—
The sensation of falling was replaced by a feeling of being embraced all over his body—a warmth that soon became a wet cold. It was all so strange; everything was dark.
Suddenly, a light—so bright it hurt his eyes.
Voices. Screams. A warm touch on cold skin.
— Lord Priest! She opened her eyes! They are... they are golden!
— ...It is a miracle — the Priest said, tears in his eyes. — A child blessed by the Divine Light.
"She? Blessed by the light? What is happening?!"
The world spun again. The Priest then handed the child to the mother, who in turn looked at her daughter. She was a beautiful woman with green eyes and hair as black as the night sky, her face filled with happiness and exhaustion.
— She is beautiful... my little lotus flower — the woman said as she held the child.
"What?!" The man's mind screamed.
— What name do you wish to give her, milady? — the Priest asked.
The woman remained thoughtful for a few moments until her eyes filled with brilliance.
— Her father is on a long mission in a place far from here, but we reached a consensus that she would inherit a name given by me... so, your name shall be Elyandra... Elyandra Valemortis — the woman said, embracing the child.
— NO. NO. NO, I AM A MAN!
But all that came out was the weak cry of a newborn.
And so, the legend of FatalPrincess is reborn. No longer as an avatar. But as Elyandra. A child with a mind from another world, blessed by an unknown Goddess.