The air in the guild room trembled with a silent charge, as if the screens themselves knew what was coming. Faces bathed in pale monitor light flickered between excitement and dread. Somewhere between whispers and prayers, one name passed through their lips:
"The Dark Lord."
Radiance, healer and heart of the Defiance Guild, felt the words pierce her like a blade. They had fought countless sieges in Aetheria, but this was different. Tonight, they weren't just defending a castle. Tonight, they were facing a myth.
Legends said he was more than a player. A shadow who had walked the code itself, reshaping the world into something cruel, something broken. Some swore he was once a developer. Others whispered of betrayal, exile, and a hunger for power that hollowed him into the monster he had become. Whether man or myth, one truth bound every story: when the Dark Lord came, nothing survived.
"Months of silence," muttered Grimmer, the guild's High Sorcerer. "And now he's after the Crest of Dominion."
The words sank heavy into the room. That relic wasn't just a prize—it was their heart, their banner, their legacy. Lose it, and they'd lose everything.
The throne room screen flared white. Fire erupted across the battlefield. And then—he came. A lone figure stepping through smoke and flame, shadow blade gleaming, Welcome to the Jungle thundering from his world music scroll. The castle shook with orc roars and dragonfire, but all eyes locked on the phantom moving through chaos like death incarnate.
Radiance's fingers trembled over her keys. She threw up a barrier, locking the Dark Lord inside a dome with their defenders. For a heartbeat, she thought they had him—until he slipped through shadows and reappeared behind her.
Her blood went cold. It was a trap.
The world fell into blackness as his ultimate carved into her. Her defenses shattered. Every blow was merciless, unrelenting. Her death would mean the Crest's.
"ONEHIT! NOW!" she cried, unleashing her Unity Scroll. A surge of light bound her life to seven tanks at once, replenishing their strength with every heartbeat. Still, the Dark Lord's rampage tore away a third of her vast HP with every strike. She clung to her focus, healing, shielding, refusing to fall.
OneHit roared the counterattack. Monks fell like meteors, annihilating bosses in blasts of flame and steel. Casters unleashed their ultimates—lightning, meteors, arrows of fire and ice. Warriors charged.
The throne room drowned in chaos. And when the smoke cleared—
He was still standing.
Not alone.
Twelve Dark Lords. Each avatar a different class: tanks towering like giants, healers channeling holy light, mages chanting storms, assassins ready to strike. Twelve against forty. One man against an army—yet somehow, the odds felt reversed.
"Guild Defiance!" Radiance commanded, her voice a battle cry. "Attack relentlessly! Give him no quarter!"
The clash was a nightmare of steel and sorcery. Blades flashed, summons clashed, tanks bashed through lines, spells split the sky. Defiance fought with fury, but the Dark Lords moved like predators playing with prey.
And then—Radiance screamed.
"STOP HIM! STOP HIM NOW!"
The assassin was gone. She realized too late. The Crest.
A flash. Explosions ripped through the emblem. Its HP plummeted.
Radiance poured every drop of her life into the relic, binding her essence to it. Her health drained like sand through broken glass. Five seconds. Just five seconds to hold on.
The Dark Lord spun, hurled a dagger. It screamed through the air—straight for her heart.
She didn't flinch. She couldn't. All her will was chained to the emblem, forcing her blood into its fading glow. She knew the dagger would kill her. Still, she stayed.
Impact. Pain like fire. The blade buried itself in her chest.
"NO!" OneHit roared, berserk fury igniting. His power tripled, burning his life away in exchange. He blurred faster than sound, slamming into the Dark Lord with a blow that cracked the air and hurled him against the wall. Stone shattered. For a heartbeat, silence.
Then a whisper behind him.
"I am the Dark Lord."
Steel split flesh. A dagger drove into OneHit's heart. His time was up. Death was certain. But instead of ending him, life surged through him. The weapon dissolved. The Dark Lord crumbled to dust.
And the music stopped.
A world announcer echoed through the system: Welcome to the Jungle, performed by Guns N' Roses.
The battlefield froze. Cheers erupted. Loot glittered across the courtyard, legendary gear—the Dark Lord's trophies—spilled like offerings. The emblem still pulsed with light. Against all odds, they had endured.
Yet OneHit stared at the empty space where the Dark Lord had stood, his chest still burning with borrowed life. Radiance wept quietly as she healed the emblem, her tears falling harder than victory deserved.
Did he quit? Did he leave forever?
OneHit's throat tightened. The thought was unbearable. The Dark Lord was their doom, their nemesis—
and Radiance's secret devotion.
If he was truly gone, this wasn't just victory.
It was loss.
The air in the guild room trembled with a silent charge, as if the screens themselves knew what was coming. Faces bathed in pale monitor light flickered between excitement and dread. Somewhere between whispers and prayers, one name passed through their lips:
"The Dark Lord."
Radiance, healer and heart of the Defiance Guild, felt the words pierce her like a blade. They had fought countless sieges in Aetheria, but this was different. Tonight, they weren't just defending a castle. Tonight, they were facing a myth.
Legends said he was more than a player. A shadow who had walked the code itself, reshaping the world into something cruel, something broken. Some swore he was once a developer. Others whispered of betrayal, exile, and a hunger for power that hollowed him into the monster he had become. Whether man or myth, one truth bound every story: when the Dark Lord came, nothing survived.
"Months of silence," muttered Grimmer, the guild's High Sorcerer. "And now he's after the Crest of Dominion."
The words sank heavy into the room. That relic wasn't just a prize—it was their heart, their banner, their legacy. Lose it, and they'd lose everything.
The throne room screen flared white. Fire erupted across the battlefield. And then—he came. A lone figure stepping through smoke and flame, shadow blade gleaming, Welcome to the Jungle thundering from his world music scroll. The castle shook with orc roars and dragonfire, but all eyes locked on the phantom moving through chaos like death incarnate.
Radiance's fingers trembled over her keys. She threw up a barrier, locking the Dark Lord inside a dome with their defenders. For a heartbeat, she thought they had him—until he slipped through shadows and reappeared behind her.
Her blood went cold. It was a trap.
The world fell into blackness as his ultimate carved into her. Her defenses shattered. Every blow was merciless, unrelenting. Her death would mean the Crest's.
"ONEHIT! NOW!" she cried, unleashing her Unity Scroll. A surge of light bound her life to seven tanks at once, replenishing their strength with every heartbeat. Still, the Dark Lord's rampage tore away a third of her vast HP with every strike. She clung to her focus, healing, shielding, refusing to fall.
OneHit roared the counterattack. Monks fell like meteors, annihilating bosses in blasts of flame and steel. Casters unleashed their ultimates—lightning, meteors, arrows of fire and ice. Warriors charged.
The throne room drowned in chaos. And when the smoke cleared—
He was still standing.
Not alone.
Twelve Dark Lords. Each avatar a different class: tanks towering like giants, healers channeling holy light, mages chanting storms, assassins ready to strike. Twelve against forty. One man against an army—yet somehow, the odds felt reversed.
"Guild Defiance!" Radiance commanded, her voice a battle cry. "Attack relentlessly! Give him no quarter!"
The clash was a nightmare of steel and sorcery. Blades flashed, summons clashed, tanks bashed through lines, spells split the sky. Defiance fought with fury, but the Dark Lords moved like predators playing with prey.
And then—Radiance screamed.
"STOP HIM! STOP HIM NOW!"
The assassin was gone. She realized too late. The Crest.
A flash. Explosions ripped through the emblem. Its HP plummeted.
Radiance poured every drop of her life into the relic, binding her essence to it. Her health drained like sand through broken glass. Five seconds. Just five seconds to hold on.
The Dark Lord spun, hurled a dagger. It screamed through the air—straight for her heart.
She didn't flinch. She couldn't. All her will was chained to the emblem, forcing her blood into its fading glow. She knew the dagger would kill her. Still, she stayed.
Impact. Pain like fire. The blade buried itself in her chest.
"NO!" OneHit roared, berserk fury igniting. His power tripled, burning his life away in exchange. He blurred faster than sound, slamming into the Dark Lord with a blow that cracked the air and hurled him against the wall. Stone shattered. For a heartbeat, silence.
Then a whisper behind him.
"I am the Dark Lord."
Steel split flesh. A dagger drove into OneHit's heart. His time was up. Death was certain. But instead of ending him, life surged through him. The weapon dissolved. The Dark Lord crumbled to dust.
And the music stopped.
A world announcer echoed through the system: Welcome to the Jungle, performed by Guns N' Roses.
The battlefield froze. Cheers erupted. Loot glittered across the courtyard, legendary gear—the Dark Lord's trophies—spilled like offerings. The emblem still pulsed with light. Against all odds, they had endured.
Yet OneHit stared at the empty space where the Dark Lord had stood, his chest still burning with borrowed life. Radiance wept quietly as she healed the emblem, her tears falling harder than victory deserved.
Did he quit? Did he leave forever?
OneHit's throat tightened. The thought was unbearable. The Dark Lord was their doom, their nemesis—
and Radiance's secret devotion.
If he was truly gone, this wasn't just victory.
It was loss.