The arena floor was massive—a full kilometer-wide combat zone with dynamic terrain. Floating platforms, destructible cover, environmental hazards. This wasn't some simple PvP match. This was war.
**Iron Legion** stood in formation across from us—200 heavily armored players, shields interlocked, spears bristling. They looked like a steel tsunami about to crash down.
Our **Phantom Raiders**? Fifty players total. Five of us in the Top 100. The rest were handpicked elites from the Top 700.
**Guild Rankings:**
- **#3 - Phantom Raiders** (Small but deadly)
- **#7 - Iron Legion** (Numbers and discipline)
We were the underdogs. They knew it. We knew it. The 100,000 spectators knew it.
SteelCommander raised his greatsword, his voice booming across the arena. "IRON LEGION! TESTUDO FORMATION!"
Their shields snapped together with mechanical precision—a perfect Roman tortoise formation. 200 players moving as one entity.
I opened party-wide comms. Voice chat for quick reactions, but I preferred mental messaging for tactics. Felt more natural.
**[PhantomEdge → All Raiders]: "Viper, what's our formation rating against theirs?"**
**[BlackViper → PhantomEdge]: "They're Top 10 guild for a reason. That formation's airtight. We hit them head-on, we're screwed."**
**[IronFist → All Raiders]: "So what, we just give up?!"**
**[PhantomEdge → All Raiders]: "Hell no. We adapt."**
I switched to voice for the full guild. "Alright Raiders, listen up! They want a siege? We give them guerrilla warfare. IronFist, you and the tank squad—twenty players—charge center. Make it LOUD."
"FINALLY!" IronFist roared, his warhammer already glowing with **Berserk Aura**.
"Everyone else," I continued, "split into five-man strike teams. Viper leads Team Alpha, Crimson leads Team Beta, Silent leads Team Gamma. I'll take Team Delta. We flank, we hit their supports, we vanish. They can't hold formation if they can't see the enemy."
**[CrimsonWitch → PhantomEdge]: "What about their mages? They've got at least thirty casters in that formation."**
**[PhantomEdge → CrimsonWitch]: "That's why you're targeting them first. Burn them before they burn us."**
**[SilentStorm → PhantomEdge]: "Archers positioned on their flanks. Twelve o'clock and six o'clock."**
**[PhantomEdge → SilentStorm]: "Take your team, eliminate the six o'clock position. Silent as always."**
**[SilentStorm → PhantomEdge]: "Obviously."**
The countdown hit zero.
**[BATTLE START!]**
---
IronFist charged.
Not ran. *Charged*. Like a freight train made of rage and metal.
"IRON LEGION! COME GET SOME!" he bellowed, his twenty-man tank squad thundering behind him—massive shields, glowing with defensive buffs, the ground shaking under their combined weight.
The crowd went absolutely insane.
SteelCommander smirked behind his formation. "HOLD THE LINE! LET THEM BREAK THEMSELVES!"
Iron Legion braced. Shields locked tighter. Spears angled forward.
IronFist's squad slammed into them like a battering ram.
**BOOOOOM!**
The impact sent shockwaves across the arena. Dust, sparks, the screech of metal on metal. Health bars flickered, damage numbers popped up—but Iron Legion's formation held.
"They're not breaking!" one of our tanks shouted over comms.
**[IronFist → PhantomEdge]: "These guys are tougher than dragon scales!"**
**[PhantomEdge → IronFist]: "You're not supposed to break them, genius. You're the distraction. Keep them busy."**
While Iron Legion focused on the frontal assault, the rest of us moved.
I activated **Shadow Step**—my signature assassin skill. The world blurred, colors shifted to grayscale, and I phased into the shadow realm. To normal players, I'd just vanished.
My four-man strike team followed—**DarkEdge**, **PhantomClaw**, **VoidBlade**, and **NightShade**. All Top 500 assassins. We moved like smoke through the battlefield.
**[PhantomEdge → Team Delta]: "Target: backline healers. Three o'clock. Twenty meters."**
**[DarkEdge → PhantomEdge]: "I see eight healers. Heavy guard."**
**[PhantomEdge → Team Delta]: "Heavy guard means they're important. On my mark."**
I counted down mentally. Three. Two. One.
**[PhantomEdge → Team Delta]: "Mark."**
We emerged from shadows directly behind their healer cluster—five assassins materializing out of thin air.
The healers didn't even have time to scream.
**Phantom's Fang** sliced through the first healer's throat—a critical hit, instant kill. My second dagger **Shadow's Bite** found the kidney of another. Both dropped before their health bars even registered damage.
My team moved with surgical precision. DarkEdge dual-wielded short swords, spinning like a blender through two healers. VoidBlade used chain-daggers, hooking a healer and dragging them into the shadows for execution. NightShade went full stealth, backstabbing the last three before they could cast **Guardian Shield**.
Eight healers. Down in four seconds.
**[Kill Streak Bonus!]**
**[PhantomEdge: +8 Eliminations]**
**[Team Delta: Perfect Execution!]**
"HEALERS DOWN! BACKLINE COMPROMISED!" someone in Iron Legion screamed over proximity chat.
SteelCommander's voice crackled with anger. "MAGES! LIGHT THEM UP!"
Thirty fire mages turned, staffs glowing, preparing **Meteor Swarm**—a devastating AoE spell.
But they forgot about CrimsonWitch.
---
**[CrimsonWitch → Team Beta]: "They're mine."**
She stood on a floating platform 200 meters away, her staff—**Inferno's Heart**—blazing with flames that seemed alive. Her four-man team surrounded her: **FlameLord**, **PyroKnight**, **BurningEdge**, and **MagmaFist**.
Crimson raised her staff high, chanting in the game's ancient language—a mechanic most mages ignored because it was "too slow."
But high-level chants? They were devastating.
"*Ignis aeternum, consume thy enemies, let the world know the wrath of flames—*"
Her mana bar spiked. The air around her shimmered with heat distortion.
"***CRIMSON HELL STORM!***"
Forty flaming meteors materialized above the battlefield—not the standard ten from normal **Meteor Swarm**. Each one the size of a car.
The Iron Legion mages looked up.
"Oh shi—"
**BOOOOOM! BOOOM! BOOOOOM!**
The meteors slammed down in rapid succession, each impact creating a fiery explosion. The backline mages tried to shield, tried to dodge—but there were too many, too fast.
Fifteen mages evaporated in the first five seconds. Ten more were reduced to critical health. The remaining five scattered, formation shattered.
**[CrimsonWitch: +15 Eliminations]**
**[Dominating!]**
The crowd's roar was deafening.
"THAT'S MY GIRL!" I shouted, probably too loud over open comms.
**[CrimsonWitch → PhantomEdge]: "Did you just call me 'your girl'?"**
Oh shit.
**[PhantomEdge → CrimsonWitch]: "Uh. As in. Team. Guild. You know. Camaraderie."**
**[CrimsonWitch → PhantomEdge]: "Uh-huh."**
I could *feel* her smirking.
---
Meanwhile, SilentStorm's **Team Gamma** had ghost-walked around the entire battlefield—twelve archers, pure stealth build.
Iron Legion's archer position at six o'clock never saw them coming.
Silent didn't waste time with flashy moves. One arrow. One kill. Repeat.
**[SilentStorm → PhantomEdge]: "Twelve targets. Twelve arrows. Done."**
**[PhantomEdge → SilentStorm]: "Show off."**
**[SilentStorm → PhantomEdge]: "Efficient."**
Fair point.
---
BlackViper's **Team Alpha** hit from the opposite flank—twenty berserkers and bruisers, built for raw damage and chaos.
Viper himself was a walking tank, but unlike IronFist's "smash everything" strategy, Viper fought *smart*. His greatsword **Viper's Fang** wasn't just big—it was enchanted with **Life Steal** and **Armor Break**.
He cleaved through Iron Legion's right flank, each swing weakening their armor, each hit healing himself.
"PUSH! PUSH! DON'T LET THEM REGROUP!" Viper roared, his team coordinating perfectly—stunning enemies, executing low-health targets, rotating cooldowns.
Iron Legion's formation was crumbling.
SteelCommander finally realized what was happening. "THEY'RE EVERYWHERE! REFORM! DEFENSIVE CIRCLE!"
Too late.
We'd cut their 200-man army into isolated groups. No healers. No mages. Scattered archers.
Just confused, panicking warriors getting picked off one by one.
---
I shadow-stepped back to IronFist's position. "Fist! You good?"
He was covered in dents, his health at 60%, but grinning like a maniac. "NEVER BETTER! These guys hit like toddlers!"
"That's because you're built like a brick wall. Alright, time to finish this. FULL ASSAULT!"
I switched to guild-wide voice chat. "ALL RAIDERS! CONVERGE ON CENTER! WIPE THEM OUT!"
Fifty voices responded as one: "PHANTOM RAIDERS!"
Our guild surged forward—assassins from shadows, mages raining fire, archers picking off stragglers, tanks bulldozing through defenses.
Iron Legion tried to rally. SteelCommander, to his credit, was still fighting hard, his greatsword swinging in wide arcs, trying to create space.
But he was alone.
I appeared behind him, daggers crossed.
He spun, fast for a heavy build, his sword coming down in a vertical slash.
I shadow-dashed left, his blade cutting through empty air. My dagger found the gap between his shoulder plates—**Critical Hit!**
His health dropped by 40%.
"Impossible!" he snarled, swinging again.
I ducked, rolled, came up behind him again. This time, **Shadow's Bite** found his knee joint—another critical.
20% health left.
"You're fast," he admitted, breathing hard. "But you're just one player."
I smiled. "Who said I was alone?"
BlackViper's greatsword slammed into SteelCommander's back—full force, full berserk buff.
The Top 10 guild leader's health bar hit zero.
**[SteelCommander - ELIMINATED]**
**[Phantom Raiders - VICTORY!]**
The arena exploded with noise—cheers, boos, arguments, celebrations. The holographic display lit up:
**MATCH RESULT:**
**Phantom Raiders: 48 Survivors**
**Iron Legion: 0 Survivors**
We'd won. Against a Top 10 guild. With barely any casualties.
---
Our guild gathered at center arena, exhausted but triumphant. IronFist lifted his warhammer, roaring at the crowd. CrimsonWitch twirled her staff, flames dancing. SilentStorm just nodded once—high praise from him.
BlackViper clapped my shoulder. "Not bad, Phantom. Not bad at all."
I grinned. "Told you. Numbers don't mean shit."
A notification popped up:
**[PRIVATE MESSAGE]**
**From: CelestialFlame**
**"That was incredible. You really are something special."**
My heart did the thing again.
**[PhantomEdge → CelestialFlame]: "Just getting warmed up. 😏"**
Send.
Smooth, Ryker. Real smooth.
As we teleported out of the arena, heading back to guild hall for celebration, I couldn't shake the feeling that this—this moment, this victory, this team—was the peak.
I didn't know it yet, but I was right.
It was the peak.
The fall was coming.