This was the first live, in-game update in the history of Ethereal, and every player across the world watched the landscape reshape itself in real time.

The ten minute grace period ended just as Ethan, with Markham clinging awkwardly to his back, was flying out of the Blackridge region toward Harmony City. The distance was huge, and even at his top flight speed he figured it would take at least half an hour.

"Markham, that big move of yours… what's the cooldown?" Ethan asked, his eyes sweeping over the constantly changing terrain below.

All across the world, fortresses were pushing their way out of the earth like monstrous stone mushrooms. Empty plains were turning into castle courtyards, popular grinding zones were suddenly split apart by tall unfamiliar walls, and the whole landscape seemed to shift and reorganize itself as if the world engine had woken up and started rearranging its own pieces. As he watched it unfold, a plan began to take shape in his mind, still vague but already dangerous in its outline.

"That move? It's ready," Markham said after a hesitant moment. "If the Blood Fury gauge is full, there is no cooldown."

Ethan almost lost a wingbeat. No cooldown?

"And if it isn't full?" he asked, focusing on the detail that mattered.

"If there's no Fury at all, the damage and the environmental effect are tiny, and the cooldown becomes thirty days. If the gauge is partially filled, the damage and destruction go up based on how much Fury there is, and the cooldown goes down in the same way," Markham said quietly.

"How many kills to fill it?" Ethan asked, his voice tightening.

"Killing mobs doesn't work. It has to be players," Markham answered, sounding even more uncomfortable.

"Give me a number," Ethan said.

"Roughly… three thousand. More or less. That's about what I had built up in the catacombs."

"Three thousand?" Ethan hissed. The number hit him like a physical blow, but his mind was already moving, turning the information over and looking for angles. A sharp glint flickered in his eyes, the sort that meant he had already found a path forward even if he had not said it aloud.

He opened a private channel. "Celia, I need you to pull four thousand players from the guild roster. Non core members preferred. They need to understand this is a high risk operation with a high chance of death and level loss. Compensation… I will discuss that with them when they get here. See who is willing."

Tears of the Fallen: "Four thousand? Non core? That will be mostly the casuals, or the ones who did not make the cut for the Elite Corps. Their gear will not be great."

NotADruid: "Understood. Have them gather near Springhaven. Coordinates four five eight nine four five point six nine four six four two. Tell them to stay quiet."

Tears of the Fallen: "On it."

Ethan closed the channel with a slow grin spreading across his face. He banked sharply in the air and shifted course toward the spot he had just given. He was already deep inside Springhaven's territorial airspace, and below him the land looked like a living map of rising strongholds and shifting power.

Most of the new fortresses were forming on the old foundations of small towns and abandoned outposts, turning those places into newly fortified hubs. A few were pushing up in high traffic leveling zones, instantly claiming the surrounding resources. Each fortress seemed placed with purpose, each controlling ground that was valuable for its resources, scenery or the presence of high yield monster spawns.

Ethan landed with Markham in a secluded mountain hollow, a quiet bowl of stone and trees that made the perfect hidden rally point, the kind no one would ever stumble into unless they were deliberately looking for it.

Before long, small groups of Renegade Alliance players began filtering in, all of them with their guild insignias hidden. The first group consisted of five men.

Ethan froze.

He knew them, and seeing them here made a quick, sharp jab of guilt slice through him. Their presence meant they were not part of the Elite Corps. They were regular line members. Maybe they had joined late, or maybe their skill level had not been enough to get them promoted, but the realization still stung in a way he had not expected.

He pulled up the guild log with a flick, checking their join dates, and the quick stab of guilt sank deeper. They had been members for a long time, long enough that they had probably joined right out of the starter zones.

"Rowan," Ethan said, stepping forward before he could change his mind. His voice came out softer than he intended.

The burly man at the head of the group blinked at him. "Huh?"

They had been told the Guild Master needed volunteers for a secret mission with a risk of de leveling, and being addressed so casually by the legendary, never seen, almost mythical Druid God was the last thing Rowan expected.

The man standing before him was Rowan Kane, Ethan's old college roommate, the head of their dorm, the one who had been injured by Jade's ghost, the son of Mr. Kane from the Ninth Division's Neutral Faction.

Rowan stared at Ethan as recognition finally settled in, the voice and presence clicking together in his mind. His idol. The Druid God.

The five players behind him were just as stunned. When the call went out that the Druid God himself needed four thousand members for a classified mission, they had thrown themselves into the sign up list and barely managed to secure spots before it filled. The only reason they made it in at all was because they had already been questing near Springhaven.

Now, hearing the Druid God call Rowan by name, their brains simply stalled.

"You… you are Ethan?" one of them, a Sharpshooter, finally managed, pointing with a hand that actually trembled.

Ethan sent friend requests to all of them. As soon as they accepted, the system illusion masking his real features dissolved.

He smiled then, a genuine, warm smile, and stepped in to pull Rowan into a back slapping hug. The others stared at the scene as if reality had short circuited.

"Ethan… it is really you?" Rowan murmured, still locked in shock, arms returning the hug out of instinct more than intention.

None of them could reconcile it. The figure who had dominated every leaderboard, the notorious troublemaker who regularly shook the server, the name whispered like a force of nature, was their quiet, sometimes bullied dormmate, Ethan.

"Hold on," Ethan said, pulling away, the smile fading into a more serious expression. "Why are you guys not in the Elite Corps?"

In his past life, these five had been strong. Not top ranked, but reliable, stubbornly competent, and fiercely loyal. They had earned a small reputation as an independent squad that could hold their own. Had the Renegade Alliance shifted that dramatically, raising the bar so high that these five could not clear it?

More than that, a wave of shame washed over him. In that other life, these five had been his lifeline, the people who had stuck with him through the worst patches. They might not have been the most powerful, but whenever he was hunted, they came running without hesitation, throwing themselves into hopeless fights beside him. When he had been killed back down to the starter zone, it was these five who hid with him for an entire month in a forgotten valley, grinding him back up without complaint.

This time around he had been so focused on racing to the top that he had never looked behind him. He had forgotten them.

The guilt settled on him like a physical weight.

"Ah, Ethan… we were in the Corps, actually. But then…" one of the younger ones, JJ, the so called little brother of their dorm, started to say.

"JJ, not now," Rowan cut in sharply, his tone carrying a warning.

"But Rowan…" JJ tried again, frustration tightening his voice.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. He heard the evasion immediately. Rowan was hiding something, either protecting someone inside the Alliance or protecting Ethan from something uglier. The implication sat heavy between them. The Renegade Alliance was not the unified force he had imagined. There were politics, fractures, and rot under the surface.

A cold, dangerous light flickered through his eyes for a brief moment.

Rowan saw it and flinched with sudden worry, while the other four exchanged looks filled with a simmering, vindictive thrill.

"Alright, Rowan," Ethan said, his voice calm, carrying a new, firmer edge. "Stay with me for now. We will deal with your situation later. Right now, we have more important things to handle."

He gestured for them to fall in. Markham, who had already picked up the general mood of the reunion and the hint of guild tension, swaggered over and threw a heavy arm around Rowan's shoulders. He had the same bulky, boisterous presence as Rowan, but where Markham radiated loud confidence, Rowan remained more reserved and awkward.

Rowan stiffened under the weight of Markham's arm and shot Ethan a confused look over the man's shoulder, his eyes asking the question he did not voice. 'Who is this guy, and why is his name so damn red?'

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