Gara stepped into the tavern and, unsurprisingly, found Dante right where he usually was—at the corner table, face lit by the glow of his blue Story System interface. The red-haired young man sighed lightly when he noticed Dante wasn't watching a [Traveler] rerun for once. Progress.
Instead, the screen showed a playthrough of an ocean-based Fragment. The featured Player had light green hair and wore a loose, petal-patterned summer jacket in shades of blue. He fought using fire, launching burning arcs over crashing waves. An odd contrast.
"Interesting," Gara muttered as he approached. "Thought you'd never watch anything other than [Traveler] reruns."
Dante lifted his head, studying Gara for a moment. "You seem... off."
"Uh… well…" Gara rubbed the back of his neck. "Hah. It's kinda a long story. And yeah, it does involve that Leif guy."
Dante raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. He closed his Story System with a casual swipe. "Interesting. What happened?"
"I…" Gara hesitated, then let out a tired sigh. "Can I tell you some other time? Kinda drained right now."
"Sure."
No teasing, no sarcastic jabs. Just a calm, simple response. That alone told Gara how off he probably looked.
He gave Dante a short wave and made his way upstairs.
Inside his room, he collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He took a long breath in, then let it out slowly. The night air filtered in softly through the open window, cool and refreshing.
This—this was what he loved most about the White Clouds. Night or day, there was always this strange sense of calm. Maybe it was the way the stars looked when seen from above, or how the wind smelled faintly of clean mist and old stories.
There was still so much of the Story World he hadn't explored… but for now, this quiet moment would do.
Out of the thirteen major Territories in the Story World, Gara had only ever visited one—the White Clouds, where he currently lived. And even then, the White Clouds were so vast that exploring it all would take a lifetime.
He'd only been to a few well-known places, mostly the kind people talked about on Blue Trade forums or during Tavern gossip. Other than that, he'd passed through a handful of small towns that weren't aligned with any of the major Territories.
The Story World was home to several different types of places. One kind was the Zones—ancient, untamed regions not ruled by any one power. Gara only knew of five. The first was the Sea of Fragments. The second, the platform above it that served as a central hub: the Golden Space.
The third was a place steeped in mystery, rumored to be where stories went to die—The Edge of the Story.
Two more existed, but Gara hadn't looked into them much. He only knew one was where major wars were fought, and the other had some connection to the Hiros. The same species Dante seemed to hate—if his Story name, [Hiro Hunter], was anything to go by.
'Hiros, huh? I never really looked into them much. What are they, I wonder?' Gara thought to himself. 'Tsk... I mean, I could try looking them up on the Blue Trade Records, but that'd cost me precious Green Cores, and I'm not that curious.'
He shook his head with a light sigh and shifted his thoughts.
Next came the Territories—the largest stretches of land in the Story World, each ruled by one of the dominant Factions. These weren't just places; they were power structures.
One of the most well-known was, of course, the White Clouds. Gara's home.
It was owned and governed by the Grey Rose Organization, led by a Reader named Ren—also known by his title, Duke. His Story was [Grey Rose], and he was widely considered to be among the top ten strongest Z Rankers in the entire Story World.
The White Clouds was said to be the safest place for Player Readers in the entire Story World. In other Territories, Readers often faced bullying and discrimination—but here, things were different. Here, Readers and Fragment Natives, like Gara himself, could speak as equals. They could become friends without fear or hierarchy getting in the way.
Another one of the thirteen major Territories was called Dark Town.
Just as the name implied, it was cloaked in near-permanent darkness. Thick black clouds covered the sky, blocking out the sun entirely, and it rained on most days. Despite the name, though, Dark Town wasn't just a town. In terms of sheer size, it rivaled the White Clouds. Entire continents could fit within its boundaries.
Dark Town was ruled by the Council of Eight—widely considered the most powerful faction in the entire Story World. This alliance included some of the strongest figures alive, such as the [Gold Emperor], the [Last Emperor], the [Dragon King], and others whose names echoed through the Sea of Fragments.
Each member of the Council commanded their own superpower. For instance, the [Last Emperor] was followed by thirteen Dukes, many of whom were Z Rankers in their own right. One among them, known as the [Organizer], was so influential that some considered him an unofficial ninth seat at the Council's table.
Dark Town itself was known for its guilds.
Many Fragments—especially those of higher rank—required players to enter in teams to challenge the story within. And there was no better way to form a strong, reliable team than by joining a guild. Dark Town provided just that. The most elite and well-established guilds in the Story World were based here, or at the very least, operated a major branch within its borders.
Beneath the thirteen Territories in terms of both landmass and influence were the Countries. Below those came Cities, followed by Towns—like the infamous Town of No Return, the place where this year's [Ticket Hunting] Event would be held, and where chosen Players would board the Final Express.
Gara hoped to be among them.
Below Towns were Villages. And beyond even that, scattered across the Story World, were solitary Manors—isolated estates not claimed by any Territory, Country, or Faction, ruled only by their owners.
Gara sighed. The Story World by itself—without even factoring in the Sea of Fragments—was already too vast to fully grasp. And yet, he wanted to explore all of it.
Or at least try to.
But whenever he thought about the Sea of Fragments, with its endless sprawl of unknown worlds, and remembered how some of the biggest Players claimed they had barely uncovered 5% of all Fragments—if even that—he could only sigh again.
'Five percent, huh? And that tiny number already equals over a billion Fragments, maybe even more by now… And it's just a guess. For all we know, it could be one percent—or even less.'
'It's exciting, I won't lie. But also terrifying.'
At the very least, it helped him understand the [Traveler]'s obsession with exploring the Sea of Fragments. Gara couldn't deny the thrill he felt whenever a new playthrough dropped—especially if it was from a never-before-seen Fragment.
He chuckled lightly.
'Haha… I wonder how many Fragments he's actually released to the public. Gotta be a lot he kept to himself. After all, not every Fragment out there is exciting to journey through.'
He then found his thoughts drifting toward the only Z Ranked Fragment currently known in the Story World—[Roses Universe], recited by [Informant Z] and owned by the [Gold Emperor].
'Just how many other Z Ranked Fragments are out there waiting to be discovered? What about… ones higher than Z? I'm pretty sure the [First One Out] is at least a rank above Z, if not more.'
'And that puts the question of Fragments on that same level…'
Gara shook his head slightly. That kind of speculation was way too big for him right now.
He was still just an F Ranker. Not even at the peak of it yet—though close. Before going to sleep, he decided to do something a little more grounded: look up information on Leif through the Blue Trade Records.
Typing in the blonde-haired young man's name, only a single file came up. It was surprisingly short… and cheap. Just ten Green Cores.
'Just how much of a mystery is this guy?'
Then again, it wasn't too strange to be unknown in the Story World if you were still at F Rank. Who would bother digging deep into someone that low on the ladder?
Very few people ever did.
Gara didn't hesitate to buy the available information. Ten Green Cores was a small price to pay for some peace of mind.
He opened the file, and the text appeared before him in clean, sharp letters on his golden Story System interface:
[File: Details on Peak F Ranked Player — Leif]
Name: Leif
Last Name: Unknown
Rank: F
Stories:
Original: [Masked Threat]
Inherited: [Lightning Dance]
Affiliation: None
Fragments Completed: [Wolf of Thunder], [Red Sea], [Slashing Waves of Lightning]
Fragments Visited: Unknown
Whereabouts: Unknown
That was it. Gara stared at the screen in silence.
It felt… strangely empty. Like the file was a placeholder more than an actual record. There were three playthrough recordings attached—presumably the three Fragments listed—but Gara decided to watch those later.
Right now, something else tugged at his mind.
'It says no affiliation… which really shouldn't be the case. What about his Clan? The only clue I have is the [Lightning Dance] Story he now owns.'
He leaned back on the bed, thoughtful. Why wasn't it showing up in his affiliations?
And why did everything about Leif seem designed to be invisible?
So, Gara searched for [Lightning Dance] on the Blue Trade Records.
No results.
Well—there was one. A single listing. But it was fully redacted. The title remained, but every detail below it was blacked out.
'Huh… Someone deleted the only available trace on the story? Why?'
He frowned. 'Sure, Leif himself isn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things—not yet, anyway—but his Clan should be. Especially if Leif's father was at least SSS Rank.'
That kind of legacy didn't just disappear. It was hard to believe no one had recorded anything about it. Or perhaps someone had—and someone else had wiped it.
Wiping Date from the Blue Trade Records was hard, and needed a lot of permissions from higher-ups in the Blue Trade Organization. In other words, the ones behind this, the rival clan Leif had made a mention of, must be well connected in the Story World.
'Hmmm... A Clan huh? That well connected? Should be Z Rank or X at least, right? Clans at those ranks are kinda rare... You got the Injukas, the Paragons and Renegades, Yan Dynasty... Not many others I can think of... But why?'
No matter how much he tried to make sense of it, it was like chasing shadows. The more he thought about it, the more tangled the whole thing seemed.
And honestly, he was tired.
Exhausted, even.
So, with a groggy sigh, Gara decided to leave the mystery for his future self to deal with.
He turned off the glowing gold interface, sank into the softness of his bed, closed his eyes—
—and was asleep within minutes.
...
A blonde-haired young man stood alone in a vast, empty expanse of white.
There were no walls. No ceiling. Just an endless stretch of smooth white floor tiles—interrupted only by thick black lines cutting across the ground like massive brush strokes, dividing the space into ominous, silent arenas.
In one of them stood Leif.
Still.
Focused.
He faced a massive black bear, its fur coarse and matted, its eyes burning crimson like twin coals buried in shadow. The creature stared him down with a primal intelligence, but made no move.
Leif didn't flinch.
Instead, he exhaled slowly—then lifted a hand and tapped at the black interface of his Story System, floating just before him like a ghostly screen.
Tap.
That was the signal.
As if triggered by the sound alone, the beast suddenly roared to life. Its body snapped forward like a whip. Muscles bulged. Bloodlust filled its howl as it surged toward Leif, entering a berserker state with terrifying speed.
But Leif had already moved.
"[Lightning Dance]," he muttered under his breath.
Blue arcs of lightning exploded around him. They spiraled and danced along his arms, snapping and cracking like the beat of a war drum. The entire arena lit up in flickering blue.
In one smooth motion, he reached into the electric storm surrounding him—grasped a streak of lightning like a whip—and hurled it forward.
The bolt screamed across the arena.
The black bear leapt, claws extended, ready to shred him apart mid-air—
—but the lightning struck first.
The crack of impact echoed like thunder in the hollow space.
Electricity surged through the bear's body, forcing it to the ground mid-leap. It slid backward with a guttural groan, steam rising from its fur, claws scraping against the tile as it tried to regain balance.
Leif didn't wait.
Without hesitation, he activated his second Story: [Masked Threat].
Darkness rippled across the white tiles beneath his feet as a long, black odachi materialized in his right hand—its blade etched with intricate, shifting patterns that shimmered like living ink. The weapon pulsed faintly with power, as if remembering every battle it had ever tasted.
Lightning still danced wildly around him. Leif reached out and grasped a second arc of blue light—this one thicker, more violent—and wrapped it around the blade.
The moment lightning touched the steel, the odachi roared to life. Sparks exploded off its edge, transforming it into a weapon of crackling, unstable energy.
Now holding a lightning-forged odachi, Leif exhaled once.
Then moved.
A single burst from his right leg—and he vanished from where he stood. The tiles cracked beneath the force of his acceleration.
Boom!
He was a streak of blue and black, charging forward like a phantom of thunder.
The black bear's instincts screamed. It twisted, tried to dodge—
Too late.
Leif slashed.
One smooth, perfect arc.
The massive head of the beast separated from its body and flew into the air. No blood spilled. No roar echoed. Instead—
Glitch.
The severed head froze mid-air. The body jerked unnaturally, flickering like a corrupted hologram. Then—
They vanished.
No corpse. No stain. Just gone.
And just as suddenly, the same black bear appeared back at its original spot—whole again, motionless.
It stood there, eerily still, like a game piece reset on a board, awaiting the next move. Awaiting orders.
Leif tightened his grip on the odachi.
He didn't speak.
Instead, he exhaled slowly, his breath steady as static still crackled faintly around him.
He lowered his blade, then raised his hand—and with a small swipe through the air, his black Story System interface flickered open before him. Thin glowing lines formed a half-transparent screen, hovering silently in the void.
He was just about to input another command—one that would send the bear lunging at him again—
But then he paused.
In the corner of the interface, a small icon pulsed gently.
New message received.
He tapped it.
A name appeared.
From: Gara
Leif blinked once, the lightning around his body beginning to fade.
"…Huh."
For the first time since entering this sterile white void, a flicker of something passed over his face. Not surprise exactly—just… interest.
He swiped the interface fully open and stared at the message.
The message was brief.
Don't be late. Let's meet up at the open plaza beside the Red Light Inn. 9:30 AM. —Gara
Leif stared at the words for a moment. Then exhaled.
"…Alright."
He raised his hand slightly, and in a smooth motion, the black odachi vanished from his grip—dissolving into thin black motes as he deactivated [Masked Threat]. The arc of blue lightning dancing around his arm faded next, vanishing as he shut off [Lightning Dance].
The space around him—still vast, still white—fell into silence once again.
He looked at the black bear, still frozen in place where it had respawned. Just waiting. Unblinking.
One last glance. Then he tapped a command into his black Story System interface.
A shimmer enveloped him—light folding over light—and then he was gone.
Darkness closed in. Brief and complete.
Then, motion.
Leif's feet touched something solid, but the world around him stretched and swirled—he now stood within a wormhole of sorts. The tunnel around him was black, streaked with flowing blue hues, like rivers of stardust, pulsing faintly as he walked.
He didn't rush.
It was a transition zone—a pathway between contained spaces. He walked its narrow, gently curved path for nearly twenty minutes, silent and alone.
Finally, at the end of the long spiral, a large white portal bloomed open before him.
Without pause, Leif stepped through.
A faint breeze brushed against his skin. The air inside the small chamber was oddly cool, almost too clean—artificial, like a simulation of real wind.
Beneath his feet, the floor had the familiar texture of the White Clouds—mist-like yet solid, faintly glowing with a soft white light.
He stood quietly, letting his eyes adjust to the dim glow of the enclosed room—simple walls, no windows, no doors. Just one white portal behind him, still shimmering faintly, and beside it, a black square machine, quietly humming.
A private transfer node, linked directly to a special Fragment. Locked. Secure. Meant for authorized Players only.
He had returned.
Back to the White Clouds—his current home, or something like it.
And he still had time before 9:30.
He exited the room and stepped into a long, dimly lit hallway. All along the corridor, identical doors lined the walls—each leading to their own private training chambers.
Leif passed them without pause.
His steps echoed faintly as he made his way to the elevator waiting at the far end. He pressed the panel, stepped inside, and rode it upward, leaving the underground complex behind.
With a soft chime, the elevator opened.
He walked out into a small, clean entrance lobby—sleek blue floors, bright lights, and a steady stream of Players coming and going. Several receptionists stood behind glowing desks, answering questions and registering new arrivals.
One young male receptionist glanced up and offered Leif a friendly smile. "Hopefully you had fun in there."
Leif gave a small nod, silent as always, and exited through the glass sliding doors.
Outside, the morning light of the White Clouds bathed everything in soft hues. He turned around briefly to look at the one-story blue building he had just left.
A glowing sign hung overhead, crisp and clear:
Training Grounds.
The Training Grounds weren't just a building—they were part of a vast network run by the Blue Trade Organization. Branches like this existed all across the Story World, each one linked to the same destination:
A single, legendary Fragment known as [Training Grounds].
An X Ranked Fragment, entirely virtual, owned and regulated by the Blue Trade Organization. Unlike most Fragments, it didn't house a narrative, quest, or artifact. Its sole purpose was training—with simulated monsters, or even virtual replicas of other Players, if both parties agreed.
It was a battlefield where strength could be sharpened, stories tested, and skills refined... all without real risk.
But it came with limitations.
The training effects were halved. Whatever a Player learned inside, only half of it would carry over once they returned to the real Story World. And while the cost wasn't outrageous, it wasn't cheap either—especially for low-ranked Players.
Still, for many, this place was the only option.
Renting an open field to train was a luxury. Buying monsters to spar with? Even more expensive. And finding a sparring partner willing to go all out? Risky at best. No one wanted to injure a fellow Player and be dragged into conflict or banned from Fragments.
But inside the [Training Grounds]?
Pain, injury, even death—none of it was real.
It was a space where Players could unleash everything they had, and walk away unscathed.
It was no wonder even SSS Rankers and X Rank Players chose to train inside the [Training Grounds] Fragment.
And the one who profited the most from this indispensable tool?
The Blue Trade Organization, of course.
They were more than just a business—they were the lifeblood of the Story World's infrastructure. Not only had they created the Blue Trade Records—a digital network so expansive that Readers often compared it to the internet from their original world—they also established the Information Markets, grand repositories containing library upon library of data.
Data about Fragments. About Players. About stories, pathways, outcomes, and probabilities. If it could be witnessed, logged, or analyzed, it could be found—or sold—through them.
Then there was the [Training Grounds] program—accessible, scalable, and everywhere. Not to mention the Card Library they hosted as well.
Together, these made the Blue Trade Organization the wealthiest faction in the Story World.
And perhaps the most influential.
Yet despite their power, they held no allegiance—not to the Council of Eight, not to the Grey Rose Organization, nor to any other Faction. Their neutrality was part of their strength. Their portals, Records, and Markets existed across all 13 Territories, making them a presence that no one could ignore, and no one could control.
...
In a quaint open plaza, surrounded by soft chatter and the aroma of fresh food from nearby stalls, a fountain danced at the center—its water flowing in elegant arcs that shimmered beneath the early morning sun.
A red-haired young man in a flowing crimson kimono stood near its base, arms folded, eyes wandering.
Gara. F Ranked Story Guide. Owner of [Root of All Things].
He observed the peaceful scene in silence—couples walking hand-in-hand with their children, old men laughing over a game of checkers, and vendors shouting playful greetings to passersby. The plaza buzzed with quiet joy, the kind born from a place that had seen thousands of peaceful mornings like this.
Gara had been here before. Dozens of times.
And yet, the fountain still made him pause. Just for a moment, he glanced over his shoulder, admiring the delicate way the water caught the light.
He sighed. Then turned away. He wasn't here for sightseeing.
Moments later, a familiar figure emerged through the crowd.
A blonde-haired young man with crimson eyes, wrapped in a long black cloak that obscured most of his form, stepped into view.
Leif.
"Finally here, huh?" Gara said, raising an eyebrow. "For someone who seems so punctual, you're late by five minutes."
Leif offered a respectful nod. "I apologize. I was at the Training Grounds when I received your message. I underestimated the walk from there to here."
Gara waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine."
He gestured toward one of the food stalls. The scent of grilled meats and sweet buns filled the air.
"How about we grab something to eat while we talk over our plans for the [Rashanz] Fragment trip?" Gara suggested.
Leif gave a quiet nod. "Agreed."
He followed behind as Gara took the lead, navigating the familiar streets of White Clouds—a place Leif only knew through purchased data and secondhand records.
...
Gara sat at the small wooden table, sunlight streaming through the open canopy above, casting dappled shadows across the dishes in front of him. He stared at the two plates with a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
It had been a while since he'd tasted food this good. Not even yesterday's restaurant outing with Leif held a candle to this.
Across from him, the blonde-haired young man studied his own plates with quiet anticipation. Leif's crimson eyes flicked between each dish—calm on the surface, but even he couldn't completely hide the subtle excitement that crept into his gaze.
On the first plate:
Cloud Skewers—grilled sticks of tender chicken and plump mushrooms, each piece glazed with a silky white miso glaze that shimmered under the morning light. A gentle aroma drifted up from the skewers, smoky yet soft, thanks to the rare local herb: Mistleaf.
The scent was ethereal, like breathing in a forest after rain.
Beside the skewers sat a neatly wrapped pouch of pickled turnip slices—thin, crisp, slightly sweet—and a small porcelain bowl filled with cloudberry dipping sauce, its vibrant purple hue inviting but refined.
On the second plate:
Storm Buns—steamed to perfection, their pillowy tops carved with lightning-shaped slits, as though struck by a stylized bolt. The bottom of each bun was slightly crisped from a brief flash-toasting, giving them just enough crunch to contrast the soft upper half.
Inside, molten egg and spiced vegetables melded together in a warm, savory burst.
"This one's made by a retired C Ranker," Gara noted, almost reverently. "Made it to 'bring warmth before the storm.'"
He picked up a skewer, turning it slowly in his hand, admiring the gleam of the glaze. "And judging by the smell alone… I'd say he succeeded."
Leif gave a rare smile—small, brief—but genuine.
Then they dug in.
As they ate, savoring bite after bite of the Cloud Skewers and Storm Buns, the conversation gradually shifted toward business.
Between mouthfuls of perfectly spiced vegetables and the soft crackle of grilled Mistleaf smoke still lingering in the air, Gara leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice—not out of secrecy, but out of habit.
"So," he began, chewing thoughtfully on the last piece of chicken, "once we're inside the [Rashanz] Fragment, I suggest we aim for direct transit to the Mountain of Lightning."
He tapped his fingers against the table, eyes narrowing as he recalled the Fragment map. "We'll need to ask the Reciter to place us in Sector D-Seven. It's a mostly safe rocky hilltop, we'll have to walk for about 20 to 35 minutes before we reach the Mountain of Lightning."
He added, "But in my opinion, it's the safest choice we have."
Leif finished a bun and nodded, brushing crumbs from his black cloak. "Sounds reasonable. How much?"
Gara grimaced slightly, "Expensive. That kind of targeted entry isn't cheap, especially not with [Rashanz]."
Leif simply waved a hand. "Don't worry about the money. I'll cover it."
Gara raised a brow, then shrugged. "Alright. I won't argue."
He leaned back in his chair, lifting the last skewer from the plate, then glanced at Leif again. "In that case, let's talk abilities. If I'm going to guide you properly, I need to know how you fight."
There was no tension in the question. In the Story World, abilities weren't considered sacred or hidden. Fame fueled power. And to reach the peak, everyone eventually had to bare their cards to the world.
Secrets were for the weak. The strong were known.
Gara could have watched the three recorded playthroughs of Leif's fights that he'd purchased yesterday along with the information file, but he hadn't.
First, he was simply too lazy to bother.
And second, watching someone use an ability and asking them how it worked were two very different things. Gara wasn't a specialist in analyzing footage to break down combat techniques.
Leif didn't hold back—he shared what he could do without hesitation. In turn, Gara did the same, explaining the workings of his story, [Root of All Things].
The two continued discussing their plans for the [Rashanz] Fragment. It would take them a few days to prepare everything.
—End of Chapter.
-------
Private Conversation:
Gara: So, how do you like our food?
Leif: Your food?
Gara: Yeah, there something wrong with what I said?
Leif: Everything.
Gara: What?? How so?
Leif: It's not your food, it's the food produced where you live. You didn't make it, I doubt you can even boil eggs.
Gara: Hey! I'll have you know that I'm a great cook! Do you think Dante makes lunch and dinner?
Leif: Yes.
Gara: Tsk, I'll show you one of these days, you'll go crazy once you eat what I make.
Leif: I'm sure of that.
Gara: Hey! I didn't mean you'd actually get brain damage from it!!!