Kaito's expression grew more thoughtful as he shifted his gaze toward his grandmother. Her back remained straight, her expression composed as always—but there was a subtle curiosity in her eyes, the kind he'd noticed ever since she began poring over the alchemical notes excavated from the ancient ruins.
"You know, Grandmother," Kaito said gently, "there's more to Glory than just battles."
She blinked, lifting her eyes toward him.
"There's an alchemist profession in the game," he continued. "A full system dedicated to refining herbs, brewing potions, and creating medicine. And unlike the real world… the ingredients aren't expensive. You don't need to wait months or pay a fortune to acquire aged medical roots or high-tier flora. In Glory, you can experiment freely—test your theories, refine techniques, even invent new formulas."
For a long moment, she didn't reply. Then, she reached for her teacup and said, almost absently, "The old methods I've been studying… they haven't been practiced for decades. It's rare to find even a sliver of pure herb anymore."
Kaito smiled faintly. "Which is why this could be your new garden. A place to bring those forgotten techniques back to life."
His grandmother glanced at his mother, who offered her a soft nod in return.
Kaito then turned toward his mother. "And you, Mom… there's plenty for you too. Glory isn't just about combat or potion-making. There are dozens of lifestyle paths—crafting, tailoring, design, home-building, even music and sculpture. I've seen how much you enjoy working with your hands, creating things. You'd enjoy it more than you think."
His mother gave him a look. "You just want me to play so I can cook for you in-game, don't you?"
He laughed. "Only half true."
She shook her head with a sigh—but her smile lingered.
Then, Kaito's eyes slid toward the other side of the table, where his father, his third Uncle, and his second uncle were seated.
"I won't sugarcoat it," he said, voice firm. "I want all three of you inside Glory, not just for fun… but because I'm building something inside that world. A network. A guild. A business empire that'll span across cities and economies."
His second uncle raised an eyebrow. "You sound serious."
"I am," Kaito replied. "Glory isn't just a game. It's a world with its own rules and power structures—and I plan to be at the center of it. But I can't do it alone. I need people I can trust. People who can build and manage things from the inside. People who understand long-term vision."
He paused, then looked directly at his second uncle.
"And I want your help with that. You've been running logistics and strategy for the company for years. If you handle the in-game enterprise the way you handle real-world operations, I can guarantee we'll be ten steps ahead of every other guild before the first expansion even drops."
His voice dropped slightly, carrying an edge of gravity.
"You all saw what happened tonight. That's just the start. Our enemies are desperate. Some are still hidden. And Glory is the only battlefield where we can outpace them without risking real-world exposure."
There was silence at the table. But this time, it wasn't somber.
It was contemplative.
Resolved.
After a moment, Grandfather cleared his throat. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see what this game of yours is like. If anything, I'm curious what sort of 'alchemy' you're talking about."
His grandmother gave him a sideways glance. "You'd last five minutes before getting lost in the menus."
"I've worked with tech longer than you think."
"Tech from the last century," she muttered.
Luther chuckled. "If the old folks are joining, then maybe we really are moving into a new era."
Kaito leaned forward with a grin. "Trust me. This will be the best decision you've ever made. Once you're inside, I'll guide you all personally."
Rygar raised his brow. "Don't expect us to grind rats for five hours."
Daelen hid second Uncle looked toward Grandfather. "Should we make this official?"
His grandfather gave a slow nod.
"Tomorrow morning, we'll begin setup. Each of us will have a dedicated capsule. The AI can walk us through installation."
"And don't worry," Kaito added, "I'll set up your builds and professions. All you need to do is follow my instructions."
His grandmother raised a brow. "That sounds dangerously close to bossing your elders around."
Kaito grinned. "In the game, I'm the guild leader."
A pause.
Then they all laughed.
For the first time that night, the heaviness in the room lifted completely.
Outside, the moon hung low over the Ren estate, bathing the stone paths in quiet silver. Inside, for the first time in what felt like days, warmth and laughter filled the room.
They had survived.
They had struck first.
And now, they would rise—together.
...…..
Later that night, after the tea had gone cold and the family had dispersed to their rooms, Kaito returned to his own chamber. The moment his head touched the pillow, exhaustion began to creep in—he hadn't slept properly in days. But before rest could claim him, a voice echoed in his memory.
It was his second uncle's voice, spoken a few minutes ago, while everyone was dispersing:
"Don't forget, Kaito. We'll be needing to go to the ancestral worship ceremony on 15th April, keep a place for that also in your schedule."
Kaito opened his eyes again, staring up at the ceiling.
The Ren family… was never just this small branch in Silvercrest.
In truth, they had once been a much larger family—one that spanned generations. But the paths they had chosen were different. Most of the family had believed that remaining low-key, far from the chaos of the world, was the wisest path. For them, being a "hidden family" meant true isolation—living in seclusion, tucked deep in nature, untouched by politics, war, or ambition.
But his grandfather had disagreed.
He had a fight with his brothers, believing that staying hidden would never allow anyone to reach the pinnacle. That strength wasn't preserved through stillness, but through struggle. And so, he had left—alone—and built the Silvercrest branch from the ground up.
But they still returned every year for the ancestral worship ceremony. It wasn't a complete severing of ties—only the relationship between his grandfather and his brothers had soured. The later generations were never dragged into that conflict, as the family still upheld the ancestral teachings of mutual respect and unity.
Kaito's chest tightened.
In his previous life, when the enemies came for them, when their family stood at the edge of ruin… those family ties had returned. The ones from the ancestral estate. They had come—quietly, without fanfare—to stand beside them.
But even then… it hadn't been enough.
They had come too late. Even together, their combined force couldn't turn the tide.
And yet, Kaito knew it wasn't their fault. It was the ideology they'd followed for generations—an ideal that power should be hoarded until perfection, that exposure led only to ruin. But perfection never came. And the world never stopped moving.
His grandfather had understood that.
And now, so did Kaito.
He closed his eyes again.
The past had returned. But this time, he would be ready.
And when the time came… the Ren family bloodline would rise again.
...….
...
Morning came.
At exactly 6:15 a.m., the Federation's Enforcement Division arrived outside the Velthorn estate in Silvercrest City, flanked by armored transports and drones overhead.
They found… nothing.
No resistance.
No alarms.
The main gate was unguarded. Not a soul in sight.
The commander frowned. "Something's wrong."
They breached the front doors—and stopped dead in their tracks.
The entrance hall was littered with corpses.
Crimson streaks lined the floor like spilled paint. Chunks of melted rifles, cracked marble. Blood soaked into velvet carpets. The air stank of burnt flesh and death.
One of the officers muttered in horror, "What the hell happened here…"
They advanced cautiously—checking room after room. Every corridor led to the same result: death.
Upstairs, in the main council hall, Bane Velthorn's body was found propped on his throne, head lolling at an angle. A massive cut ran down his torso, and his vibrosaber lay snapped in two beside him.
Downstairs, in the underground shelter, they found the younger Velthorns. Dead. Executed.
There were no survivors.
Not one.
The Federation commander stood in stunned silence, the heavy scent of blood and ash clinging to every breath. This wasn't just an execution—it was a message carved in flesh. A massacre of over two hundred lives, wiped out without mercy or hesitation.
The Velthorn family, one of Silvercrest's most politically tangled clans, had been annihilated to the last child. And now, their corpses were his responsibility. His fists clenched. This wasn't merely a breach of law—it was a blatant defiance of the Federation's authority.
A group had dared to act ahead of them, rendering their justice irrelevant. They had trampled on the dignity of the Federation. No matter who stood behind this carnage—there would be consequences. The Federation would not stay silent. Retribution was coming.
...