Deep within the Forest, at a point completely untouched by sunlight due to layers of leaf canopy, darkness ruled.
The only source of illumination in that area was the dim bluish glow from a crystal ball the size of a head.
The magical light illuminated two mysterious figures standing flanked between the gaps of tree roots.
Their bodies and faces were completely covered by thick black cloaks. Their hoods were pulled very low, concealing their eyes. Only pairs of pale hands were visible reaching out from beneath the cloak sleeves, holding the edges of the crystal ball floating above a mossy wooden stump.
In the dimness, the first figure appeared to tremble violently. His breath sounded ragged and irregular from beneath the shadow of his hood.
"Damn it... damn it! What do we do now?!" cursed the first figure in a panicked tone, his voice trembling competing with the chirping of forest insects echoing back and forth. "Subject 375 is completely destroyed! The Leader will surely sever both our heads for losing this valuable asset!"
Hearing his comrade's panic, the second figure across the stump tried to maintain his composure, though the faint quiver in his voice betrayed the fear he harbored.
"Calm down," the second figure reprimanded. "From the very beginning, we were ordered here merely to test the subject on the battlefield."
The second figure raised his pale hand, tapping his index finger against the crystal ball.
"If viewed objectively from this experiment, this is actually a massive success," the second figure evaluated with an analytical tone. "Subject 375 successfully exceeded all our initial expectations."
He pointed toward the crystal projecting the remnants of the battlefield.
"Look at its victims," he continued. "It managed to kill a 5-Star Tower Master, obliterate four Gold-Tier adventurer parties without difficulty, and ultimately destroy a Platinum-Tier adventurer party. As a prototype murder weapon, it worked absolutely perfectly."
However, that explanation did not calm his comrade in the slightest. The first figure instead pointed straight at the crystal ball with an increasingly trembling index finger.
"That is not the problem, you fool! But... but... who is he?!" the first figure asked hysterically.
The projection inside the crystal no longer highlighted the adventurers' corpses. The ball's focus was locked on the handsome young man standing casually near the forest line.
His jet-black hair fluttered blown by the wind. That pitch-black Wuxia outfit patterned with glowing red clouds made him look incredibly striking and foreign in the eyes of the two observers.
"His strength makes absolutely no sense!" the first figure cursed, recalling the flash of light that had just occurred.
"What the hell was that attack?! With a single swing of his sword, he created a chasm that cleaved the earth! That is not something a human could do!"
The second figure also swallowed hard while staring at the projection of the young man holding the Jian sword.
Cold sweat now truly seeped through, soaking the back of his cloak. The sense of security he had built from a long distance began to crumble.
"I... I also do not know where this anomaly came from," the second figure murmured, his tone weakening. "We must immediately report this to the Leader."
He stared intently at the young man inside the crystal, trying to dig up memories from their organization's secret archives.
"With such an absurd level of power... it is possible he is a remnant entity from the Ancient Era who somehow managed to survive and awaken back into this world," the second figure proposed, referring to past myths that should have long been buried.
However, their debate halted abruptly and unnaturally.
The air inside the dense forest suddenly felt frozen. A highly unnatural chill assaulted the napes of their necks.
Inside the crystal ball projection, the red cloud-robed young man slowly raised his head from the Jian sword in his hand.
The young man's jet-black eyes stared straight upwards—right at the angle of the projection's 'camera'. That sword-sharp gaze seemed capable of piercing the illusion of space and miles of distance, locking his gaze exactly onto the two cloaked figures inside the dense forest.
From inside the crystal, the young man smirked coldly at them.
Still within the crystal image, the young man raised his Jian sword and delivered a light slashing motion toward his line of sight in empty air.
CRACK!
An incredibly sharp cracking sound of a solid object shattered the silence of the forest.
The crystal ball floating stably above the wooden stump suddenly split into two halves. The crystal shards fell onto the moss.
Its bluish light extinguished instantly, returning that area of the forest into darkness.
"Hiiiiiiiii!"
The first figure shrieked hysterically. Terror crumbled his sanity. His legs instantly turned to jelly as he staggered roughly backward and slammed into a large tree behind him.
The young man had just severed their long-distance observation magic from dozens of kilometers away with merely one casual slash.
The second figure's survival instincts immediately took over. There was no longer time to pick up the crystal shards.
He quickly snatched the wrist of his comrade who was sitting paralyzed in fear. With his free left hand, the second figure struck the base of his magic staff onto the root-filled ground.
Magical energy enveloped the two black-robed figures, pulling them against gravity, then they shot upwards, flying in panic, vanishing between the gaps of the tree canopy.
High above the clouds, hidden from the hustle of death on the battlefield, the air vibrated with angry shouts.
"You bastard, Alphonse! Let me go right now!!!" Arcus roared.
The [Sagittarius]'s body struggled violently in the air. He twisted his shoulders, kicked his legs, trying with all his might to break free from the double lock restraining him.
Alphonse locked his right arm, while Vrischil held his left side with an unexpectedly strong grip.
Alphonse held his breath. He exerted his entire body weight, pulling Arcus's cloak backward to restrain the man who was acting recklessly enough to almost jump down.
"Heh... I know exactly what is on your mind, you idiot," Alphonse answered, the veins in his neck beginning to bulge from restraining Arcus.
Arcus continued to rampage, his face turning red from anger. "Bastard! Let me go! How dare you order a woman to hold me down! What a coward!"
Facing that whining, Alphonse replied casually even though his breath sounded heavy. "Of course I wouldn't be strong enough to hold back a monster like you alone. Luckily there's the reliable Vrischil."
Hearing that name mentioned, Arcus turned sharply toward his left shoulder. His eyes glared angrily at the Elf holding him tightly.
"You bastard, Vrischil! How could you obey Alphonse's orders?!" Arcus demanded.
Vrischil paid absolutely no mind to the explosive anger on the man's face. She held Arcus's arm with a flat expression.
"Alphonse is the Guild Master," Vrischil answered in a cold tone. "Naturally, I must assist him in preventing unnecessary trouble."
"Hah, trouble?!" Arcus nearly choked on his own saliva. His eyes bulged in disbelief. "It's the brains of you two that are troubled! That was a golden opportunity that you threw away for nothing!"
Alphonse did not respond further. His attention shifted downward for a moment. He saw that the young man with the sword had finished wiping out the monster lines, sheathed his weapon, and returned to speak with the crying Aeliana.
The stage performance down there had officially been closed.
"It seems to be over," Alphonse said casually. He loosened his grip. "Just let him go, Vrischil."
As soon as the lock on his arm was released, Arcus did not lunge downward. He was instead stunned for a moment, hovering silently in the air. Staring at the land below, watching the mysterious savior speaking with Aeliana.
Arcus's shoulders slumped drastically. He tilted his head up toward the open sky, then roared in frustration.
"Daaaamn iit! It's gone! Aaaaaaahhh!" Arcus yelled. He clutched his own head, whining and crying without a single tear, cursing his unfortunate fate.
Seeing Arcus's behavior whining like a little child losing a toy, Vrischil snorted. Her gaze radiated an unhidden disgust.
"Hmph, you only wanted to satisfy your ego to look cool," the Elf sneered.
"Damn, damn, daaaamn it! My opportunity! My stage!" Arcus wailed, completely ignoring Vrischil's criticism and continuing to lament the loss of the heroic moment he had so deeply desired since first seeing the Elf girl at the Adventurer's Guild.
Ignoring his noisy comrade's whining, Alphonse rubbed his chin. He looked toward the battlefield with an amazed expression.
"I didn't expect the scene of a hero saving a beauty to actually happen in the real world," Alphonse murmured in a marveled tone. "All this time I thought such cliché scenes only existed in novels."
Arcus, who was still wailing, immediately cut off Alphonse's words. "That's not a cliché! That was a calling of destiny prepared specifically for me! And you two got in the way!"
Alphonse chuckled softly. He patted Arcus's shoulder a few times trying to calm him down, shifting the topic in a more important direction.
"Enough, ease your crying. We have been watched this whole time," Alphonse explained seriously. "Just let him take that stage and draw the attention of whatever is observing this battlefield. We must remain cautious and maintain our secrecy."
Arcus swatted Alphonse's hand away roughly. "So what if we are being watched? They are merely cowardly rats who don't dare to show themselves on stage!"
Alphonse smiled. "Hehe, it seems you were extremely eager to save that Elf. Love at first sight, Arcus?"
That tease instead of making Arcus embarrassed, was met with a far sharper counterattack. Arcus rolled his eyes and snorted dismissively.
"What normal man dislikes Elves, idiot?" Arcus replied bluntly. He pointed at Vrischil with his chin. "Don't you yourself already have one... wouldn't you like it if I had one for myself too?"
Hearing that reply, Alphonse's smile instantly faded. He cleared his throat softly and awkwardly, turning his face away to hide his embarrassment.
To break the sudden awkwardness binding the air between the two men, Vrischil took over the conversation, bringing their focus back to a piece of information.
"The man down there... he is 'Swordsoul', the Guild Master of the top-tier guild, Heavenly Palace," Vrischil revealed in a serious tone, breaking the silence.
Alphonse raised an eyebrow, his interest reignited.
"Ahh, that guy huh?" Alphonse replied quickly. "I didn't expect him to possess such a highly pretentious nature and style."
Arcus, feeling his preferred entrance style was being criticized, actually defended his rival with strange enthusiasm.
"That's not pretentious, Alphonse! That is an art! An authoritative entrance is everything! How could you ignorant people understand such aesthetics!"
Alphonse merely nodded half-heartedly, having no intention of debating the lunatic in front of him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. It seems the two of you are indeed a perfect match."
Vrischil continued presenting her data.
"From the guild's data," she continued, "he is a Top Player with the Unique Job [Heaven Blade]. The last time he became the main spotlight on the forums was when he successfully won against four Level 100 Players holding the [Sword Saint] Job simultaneously, all by himself."
Hearing that terrifying summary of achievements, Alphonse's eyes narrowed sharply. His casual smile slowly vanished without a trace.
"Hmm... so they have all started to make their move, the Players," Alphonse murmured softly.
He stared straight at Swordsoul's figure down there. Inside his head, tactical gears began to spin at full speed. The reality of this world became increasingly clear in his eyes.
The high-tier Players have begun stepping out from the shadows. They were using the stage of this world's suffering and crises as a show of force. They were carving their names as savior gods among the fragile native inhabitants.
If strong Players from various Guilds begin establishing factions and power openly... it is only a matter of time before the future of this continent transforms into a chaotic warzone.
Alphonse clenched his right hand tightly beneath his cloak sleeve.
Our observation time has truly run out. I must immediately move to secure territory, recruit pawns, and build the foundation of my own power to prepare for the incoming wave of chaos from fellow Players.
Making a final decision, Alphonse let out a long breath. He turned to his two friends.
"Let us return. We must also make our move soon," the leader decided.
Alphonse approached and grabbed the back of Arcus's cloak hood. The blonde man was now resignedly hovering in the air with a blank stare, as if his soul were still lamenting his stolen stage.
Alphonse dragged his friend through the air like a sack of rice. Together with Vrischil, they flew slowly back toward the direction of their inn inside Wealden City.
Amidst the peaceful flight across the clouds, Alphonse broke the silence enveloping them.
"Speaking of identities and names..." Alphonse said without looking back. "Should I call you by your real names from now on? Because this place is clearly not a game anymore."
A question that touched the boundary between the reality of their past and their future. Vrischil turned, staring at Alphonse's back.
"What about yourself, Alphonse?" Vrischil asked back calmly.
Alphonse smiled faintly, his eyes gazing at the expanse of the Orion world before them.
"I will continue using the name Alphonse," he answered firmly without hesitation. "The man named Alexander is already dead on Earth."
Vrischil closed her eyes for a moment, pondering her life choices.
"If so, then just call me Vrischil," the Elf answered calmly. "I also wish to bury the past and open a new chapter as my current self in this world."
Hearing the serious tone of his Treasurer, Alphonse looked back and flashed a teasing smile.
"Of course, Miss Priscilia Astride."
Hearing her real name called in such an incredibly annoying tone, Vrischil instantly snorted softly.
"Hmph," the Elf responded curtly. She turned her beautiful face in the opposite direction to hide the faint blush that suddenly spread across her cheeks due to a strange sense of embarrassment.
While continuing to fly, Alphonse then shook the hood of Arcus's cloak, whom he was dragging with one hand.
"Oi. What about you, Marcus Vance? Do you want to use your real name?"
Arcus sighed heavily, still in his depression with half-closed eyes staring at the passing sky.
"Whatever," Arcus answered lazily.
Alphonse chuckled softly, his laugh blending with the gust of wind above Wealden City. "Heh, it makes no difference. Besides, you only removed the letter 'M' from your old name anyway."