The world felt too vivid to be a simulation.
Carlos knelt, touching the cracked ground. It was rough and warm, like sunbaked stone. A dry wind swept across the plains,
carrying the scent of dust and smoke. Somewhere in the distance, something howled — not human.
The players around him were recovering from the shock of arrival. Seven in total, including Carlos. No usernames, no HUD, no
pause menu. Just… reality.
A figure moved closer — a woman in a long black cloak, a bow slung across her back. Her eyes were sharp, scanning everyone
like a predator sizing up prey.
"You okay?" she asked Carlos.
He nodded. "I think so. Where the hell are we?"
She tilted her head toward the sky, where the words still hovered faintly.
"Level 1: The Shattered Plains.
Survive. Form alliances. Claim a blade. Only five may proceed."
"Name's Elara," she said, holding out a hand.
"Carlos."
They shook.
A muscular man approached them next, bald and thick-armed, with scars running down one side of his neck. He was already
carrying a large stone club.
"Dren," he said. "We should stick together. At least for now."
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Carlos looked between Elara and Dren. Neither seemed particularly friendly — but both looked competent. And dangerous. He
nodded slowly.
"Fine. We move as a group."
They didn't get far before they saw the first challenge.
A narrow stone bridge stretched across a deep ravine, maybe fifty meters wide. On the other side, a glowing pillar of light
marked one of the Blades. But between them and the light stood a monster.
Eight feet tall. Metal-plated skin. A jaw made of jagged stone. A Ravager Golem.
"Elara," Dren muttered, "you think arrows can pierce that?"
"Maybe the joints," she said, already nocking an arrow.
Carlos picked up a broken sword from the ground nearby. It was chipped and dull — but better than nothing.
"We distract it," he said. "One draws its attention. The others go for the blade."
"No," Elara said. "Only one person can claim each blade. You think they'll just let us share it?"
Carlos frowned. She had a point. The others — the remaining four players — were nowhere in sight. Either they'd gone for other
pillars… or were planning ambushes.
Trust was already wearing thin.
They made a plan.
Dren would charge the golem head-on, using brute force to draw its attention. Elara would stay at a distance, aiming for its
joints. Carlos would try to flank and move for the blade — or assist, depending on how things went.
The moment Dren roared and rushed in, the golem turned with surprising speed. Stone cracked beneath its feet as it raised a
massive arm to crush him. Dren barely rolled aside, slamming his club into its leg.
CLANG.
The club bounced off uselessly. Carlos sprinted along the side of the ravine, keeping low.
Elara fired.
The arrow struck the golem's knee joint — sparks flew. It stumbled.
Carlos saw his chance. He ran, heart pounding, and leapt onto the stone steps leading to the pillar. The blade hovered in midair,
embedded in a floating pedestal.
It pulsed with energy — ancient, powerful.
He grabbed the hilt.
A shock ran through his body.
Blade of Ascension claimed.
Player Carlos — advanced.
Light exploded around him — and in a blink, he was gone.