The rain poured relentlessly in District 9. Midnight shadows clung to narrow alleys like hungry beasts. Thunder growled in the heavens, rumbling like an omen, while flashes of lightning briefly lit the wet concrete below.
Amid the downpour, a figure sprinted—soaked to the bone, gasping for air, boots slapping puddles with desperate rhythm. But he didn't stop. He couldn't.
Stopping meant death.
BZZZT—CRACKKK
Lightning tore across the sky as the man rounded a corner, breath ragged, limbs screaming in protest. Blood streaked down his arm, mixing with the rain. His coat was shredded, his once-sleek gear ruined from the long pursuit. But his eyes... his eyes remained sharp.
Cold.
Indifferent.
Behind him, shadowed figures gave chase—dozens of them, their outlines blurred by rain and flashing lights. Some wielded swords wreathed in flame. Others floated mid-air, commanding winds or shadows to lash out toward him. This was no ordinary pursuit. The world's top-ranked players, government-licensed agents, and guild elites were all after one man.
And he was still standing.
He twisted mid-run and hurled a red-glinting dagger behind him. It shimmered with crimson energy, slicing the leg of a pursuer and forcing a gap. With that brief opening, he vaulted over a broken fence into a narrower alley.
Pant... pant...
His body was close to collapse, but he kept going, his boots grinding over shattered glass and debris. The rain couldn't wash away the blood on his hands. Nor could it drown out the memory of how this all began.
A game.
It had appeared out of nowhere two years ago—Ascension Online.
The world had changed with it.
A global single-server game that transcended borders. Players could level up, take on dungeons, earn favor with intelligent NPCs, and at every ten levels, they could bring one thing from the game into the real world—an ability, an item, or a profession—at a price.
The game was more than a game. It had become reality.
And in that brutal, unpredictable new world, he had climbed through blood and betrayal to reach the top. Solo player. Assassin. Ranker. Known by many as Ravenblade.
But the moment everything changed...
...was when he found the Ring of Erosion.
A mythical artifact. The first of its kind. Discovered in an abyss-level dungeon where death was almost guaranteed. No respawns. No forgiveness.
He survived.
The ring—obsidian black with rust-like veins—whispered to him. It pulsed with ancient power and something else... something alive. He knew it wasn't normal. But he kept it.
That was his mistake.
Or perhaps, the world's mistake.
Because once the news leaked, the world turned on him. Guilds that once traded with him placed bounties. Officials called him a threat. The media twisted the narrative—branding him a traitor to humanity.
But he knew the truth.
They didn't care about danger. They wanted power. And the ring was power.
He skidded into a wider space—an abandoned market square in the heart of District 9. His boots splashed through puddles as he came to a halt, chest heaving. For the first time, he paused.
He knew this was it.
They had surrounded him.
Figures emerged from the shadows—cloaked in guild emblems, armor, and government badges. Elemental energies crackled from their hands, weapons gleamed in the lightning.
He counted them.
Seven major guilds. Two high-ranking officials from the Global Council. And—
His breath caught.
—his own comrades.
Three of them.
People who had started the game alongside him. Who had fought through blood-soaked dungeons, survived boss raids, and laughed beside him during breaks.
They stood across from him now—silent.
His gaze fell on her.
The one person he had truly trusted. The one he had thought incapable of betrayal.
She looked away.
He felt nothing.
Just a void.
"You've run long enough, Ravenblade," a tall man in white battle armor spoke, his voice amplified by a comm-sigil. "Hand over the ring."
"No more need for conflict," another added—this one cloaked in blue robes, a guild leader known for preaching peace. "You stole something that doesn't belong to you. Turn it over and we'll... consider your sentence."
He chuckled. A low, tired sound.
"So that's the story now?" he said, eyes scanning each of them. "I 'stole' it?"
"It was a myth-level artifact," a woman with hawk-like eyes hissed. "You had no right to keep it for yourself."
"I nearly died for it," he said quietly. "Where were you when I was bleeding in that dungeon? When my soul was being eaten alive?"
"Doesn't matter," someone muttered. "You're a threat now."
He stared at them all. And then, finally, at the people he once called comrades.
"I see," he whispered. "So this is what truth looks like to all of you."
Silence.
And then he smiled.
"Come then."
Without another word, magic flared. Blades rose. Skills ignited. The square erupted in chaos as they charged.
He moved like a shadow, crimson veins flaring along his arms. His dagger returned to his grip as if summoned by blood. Each slash, each dodge, was born of instinct and rage. The blood-based ability surged, his own life force fueling his strikes. He carved a path through three attackers, his blade drinking their blood and glowing brighter with each cut.
But there were too many.
Wounds piled up. His stamina drained. His vision blurred.
One final time, he stabbed forward—piercing an attacker's chest—before collapsing to one knee.
Breathing hard.
The rain mixed with his blood on the stone.
The ring on his finger pulsed—slowly, faintly—as if feeding.
He looked up one last time and saw the world for what it was—corrupt, selfish, and cruel.
"I'll remember all your faces," he whispered.
A final burst of power surged toward him—he didn't flinch.
Then everything went dark.
---
Softness.
He felt it first—warm blankets, silky sheets. His head rested on something... fluffy?
He opened his eyes.
A ceiling he didn't recognize stared back.
The scent of cherry blossoms and perfume filled his nose. Soft pastel colors surrounded him. Pink walls. Plush furniture.
He sat up slowly, mind dazed.
What...?
His body felt... strange. Lighter. Slender.
He looked down and froze.
Hands.
Smaller, paler hands.
Chest.
Softer. Fuller.
He stumbled off the bed and stood before the nearby mirror.
And what stared back made him blink.
A beautiful girl.
Long black hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves. Pale skin. Deep, black eyes that shimmered with faint confusion and icy cold. A petite figure clothed in silk sleepwear that clung gently to her delicate frame.
He stared in silence.
The girl blinked. So did he.
So… this is me now.
He didn't scream. Didn't cry. He was too tired for that.
Instead, his mind simply processed it—dazed but clear.
Transformed.
From male to female.
That ring must've done something at the end. Or maybe this was a second chance. He didn't know. He didn't care much, either.
Because despite everything, one thought remained:
Revenge.
He clenched a delicate fist.
Their faces were etched into his memory.
This body, this form—it didn't matter.
He was still him.
Still Ravenblade.
She stared at her reflection for a moment longer—her eyes slowly tracing the sharp yet delicate lines of her new face, the subtle curves of her frame, the expression that refused to soften even in this unfamiliar skin.
Still me.
It was strange, undeniably.
But not unbearable.
More than confusion, there was a clarity—a sense of purpose burning just beneath the surface of her new skin.
She turned from the mirror and glanced around the room. It looked like a teenage girl's villa suite: pastel pink bedding, plush dolls, a hanging chandelier, sleek furniture, and a high-end terminal system.
The contrast was jarring—but not unwelcome.
She approached the desk. A sleek black phone lay docked on the surface. With a soft tap, the screen lit up, displaying the date.
July 12, 2033.
Her breath caught.
The day Ascension Online was released.
She quickly tapped into the phone's messages and files. No passwords stopped her. The device was synced to her fingerprints—hers now.
The girl who owned this body had barely any social activity. No messages from friends. No calls. Just routine deliveries, e-receipts, and idle browsing history.
Name: Aria Lancaster
Age: 18
Status: Independent student, private curriculum.
Family: Both parents abroad—intermittent visits only.
Residence: Personal villa in Central District 4.
Wealthy.
Alone.
Private.
Convenient, she thought.
She swiped to her calendar. One notification caught her eye—an ad at the top.
> [Ascension Online Re-Released – Global Launch at 12:00 AM!]
Only limited calibration slots remain. Order your DiveGear™ today!
She checked the clock. 8:12 PM.
That gave her just under four hours.
Without hesitation, she placed an express order for the latest full-immersion gaming device, DiveGear™ EX-V. Premium. Overnight drone delivery.
She leaned back on the bed, phone resting on her chest. The soft fabric clung to her body, but she ignored it.
Her mind was somewhere else.
The game's starting again...
A second chance.
This time, she wouldn't play the same way.
No trusting others. No mercy. No alliances.
Just one goal:
Make them pay.
She stared at the ceiling, memories flashing through her mind like bleeding wounds. She saw the faces of her so-called comrades. The guild leaders. The hypocritical peace brokers. The officials who stood by while she was branded a criminal.
She could still hear their voices.
Their smug righteousness.
Her fingers clenched around the fabric of the pillow.
She'd been naive before. Believing that power could be shared. That loyalty meant something in a world twisted by greed.
Never again.
---
By 10:45 PM, the drone arrived. A soft chime echoed as a compartment in the villa's wall slid open, revealing the sealed DiveGear box. She unwrapped it with swift hands, reading through the setup instructions even as her mind raced with possibilities.
She calibrated the helmet, synced her biometrics, and connected it to the neural interface module built into the room.
Everything was top-tier.
At 11:30 PM, she completed the final checks.
A low hum filled the room as the device powered on fully.
She glanced at the mirror one last time. Her long black hair framed a beautiful face with steely eyes. Despite her soft appearance, there was an edge—something that warned anyone who looked too long that she was not to be underestimated.
"Ravenblade died," she whispered. "But I didn't."
She slipped into the device and lay down, feeling the soft cradle of the capsule seal around her.
The countdown appeared inside the visor.
11:59:46
11:59:47
11:59:48
Her breathing slowed.
Her heart beat calmly.
11:59:59
3... 2... 1...
A soft pulse of light.
Then, silence.
Darkness bloomed, followed by a brilliant radiance that filled her vision.
The screen displayed glowing golden letters as a familiar, ominous voice echoed in her ears.
> WELCOME TO ASCENSION ONLINE.