The twelve-hour window was drawing to a close. Back in Blackridge, the atmosphere within the Nocturne Order had grown thick with tension, the kind that sat heavy on the chest and refused to disperse. Even their leader, known for her poise and her doll-like voice, was starting to crack under the pressure.

'Did he forget about us?'

She opened her friends list, fingers moving faster than she meant them to. He was online. On the WCC broadcast feed, she could see him clearly, standing atop the dragon's massive head, calm and composed, looking every bit like a conquering hero basking in his own legend.

"Ugh… what a show-off," she muttered under her breath, irritation creeping into her voice despite herself.

She was just about to click his name and send a frantic message when a private chat window suddenly popped up, the sender listed as anonymous.

Blackridge North. Coordinates: 58654.63593.94458. Path is clear.

Xandria stared at the message for a long moment, then flicked her gaze back to the man frozen on the screen. Her heart skipped. Was this his doing?

She closed the live stream without hesitation.

"Move out!" she commanded, her voice high-pitched but sharp, leaving no room for doubt.

The guild had been standing by for hours, nerves stretched thin from waiting. At her words, a wave of relief and adrenaline rippled through the group.

"Where to, boss?" someone called out.

"Follow me. Less talking!" she snapped. The threat in her tone was meant to sound intimidating, but it came out closer to a petulant child throwing a tantrum. A few members exchanged amused glances, though none of them dared comment, falling into formation immediately.

Shwoosh… Shwoosh-shwoosh…

Xandria activated Stealth, her form shimmering briefly before fading from view. Behind her, the sound echoed again and again as the entire guild followed suit. Thousands of Rogues vanished almost simultaneously, the collective whisper of so many players entering stealth creating an oddly overwhelming hush.

Once cloaked, Xandria adjusted her bearings and moved toward the coordinates. North. A silent tide of invisible assassins flowed across the terrain, swift and purposeful.

Solo players grinding mobs in the lower-level zones felt an inexplicable chill crawl up their spines, the hairs on their necks standing on end for no clear reason. They glanced around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and shrugged it off, unsettled but unaware. They were far too low-level to detect the legion slipping past them.

Not long after the Nocturne Order began their march, another global announcement flashed across the world.

The world's third Advanced Fortress had fallen to the Renegade Alliance. The reward was the same as before, a +1 increase to Guild Level. The Alliance had now reached an astonishing Level 11.

At this point, system announcements barely registered anymore. Even if one suddenly declared that the Renegade Alliance now ruled the entire world, most players would probably blink once and keep watching.

While Ethan's bombing campaign had made for somewhat anticlimactic viewing, the WCC broadcast team was hardly disappointed. Their numbers were soaring. The long stretch of tense inactivity earlier had turned out to be a goldmine, drawing viewers in and keeping them hooked. The absence of action had built suspense, and now that the method behind the destruction was revealed, no one was leaving. The broadcast had shifted seamlessly into full-blown hype, analysis, and endless commentary.

Trina Starr and her rival co-host were already deep into a comprehensive recap of Druid God's rise to power, dissecting his previous battles and unexpected plays with theatrical enthusiasm. It felt as though the grand finale was approaching, the opening chapter of the Fortress Wars nearing its end.

As for the Blade Syndicate, once hailed as the undisputed top guild of the Northern Frontier, they had already faded into irrelevance. A Level 8 guild barely stood out anymore. With the Renegade Alliance sitting comfortably at Level 11 and leading the global rankings, guilds at that level were becoming increasingly common in other regions. This single siege alone had saved Ethan what he estimated to be nearly a million gold in upgrade costs, a victory that went far beyond the battlefield.

Down south, Leo's forces finally whittled the Commander's health down to zero. With a final, echoing roar, the massive figure collapsed and vanished. Another global announcement followed, but this time there was no reward. Only the top three fortresses granted prizes, and this one ranked fourth. The Advanced Fortress had been taken cleanly, efficiently, and almost quietly.

With that, most players breathed a sigh of relief. Many were already stretching, checking the time, or preparing to log off after the exhausting siege window.

Then a new system message erupted across every screen.

[Ding… Global Announcement: The world's fifth Advanced-tier Fortress has been captured! Capturing Guild: Nocturne Order. Region: Dragonspire, Northern Frontier, Blackridge Territory!]

The entire server detonated into chaos.

A guild almost no one had heard of had just captured an Advanced Fortress, and they had done it immediately after the Renegade Alliance's string of victories.

Viewers who had been half out the door snapped back to attention. The WCC stream chat exploded back to life, messages flooding in faster than moderators could even pretend to keep up.

The Nocturne Order was quickly identified as a Blackridge-based guild with a small but memorable reputation. They were known almost exclusively for one thing, an all-Rogue roster. It was a strange, impractical concept that most people had dismissed as a novelty. Now it was impossible to ignore.

Information spread rapidly. Old forum posts were dragged up. Screenshots circulated. Someone even unearthed a dated video clip of their guild leader speaking during a small regional event.

The video began playing on stream.

The chat immediately lost its mind.

"Whoa, she's gorgeous."

Then she spoke.

Reports later claimed several viewers physically clutched their chests, while others collapsed onto their keyboards from sheer emotional shock. That delicate, doll-like voice coming out of such a striking face created a level of cognitive dissonance that bordered on weaponized. It was less a contrast and more a direct psychological assault.

---

A few minutes earlier.

Xandria led her thousands of Rogues toward the coordinates she had been sent, her heartbeat gradually quickening as the landscape opened up before them. As the structure came into view, she slowed to a near stop.

An Advanced Fortress.

The coordinates pointed directly to its center.

Her thoughts stumbled over themselves. 'He didn't… he didn't seriously bring me here to take this, did he? That's impossible.'

In their original deal, Ethan had promised her a fortress to serve as a guild hall. She had assumed a Starter Fortress, something modest, something survivable. This was far beyond anything she had imagined.

None of it made sense.

Still stunned, she pressed forward. Her guildmates saw it too, and even in stealth, whispers rippled through the invisible ranks.

The closer they drew, the more disbelief set in.

"Boss… am I seeing things?" a Rogue whispered from nearby, rubbing his eyes as if afraid the image might vanish. "The main gate is wide open. There isn't a single guard on the walls."

Ethan would have recognized the speaker immediately. This was the first Rogue he had encountered in the Blackridge mountains, now Xandria's second-in-command and the guild's de facto manager. He handled logistics, discipline, and internal operations, much like Celia did for the Renegade Alliance. Rumors about his exact relationship with Xandria were a long-running source of amusement within the guild.

"If you're hallucinating, then I am too," Xandria hissed back. "Tell everyone to move. Now. Get inside and shut that gate."

The invisible army surged forward as one.

The ground beneath them told the story of a brutal battle. It was torn apart, riddled with deep craters like emptied graves, the stone scorched and broken by catapult fire. Whatever fight had taken place here had been fierce and decisive.

They poured through the open gate in a silent flood. The moment the last Rogue crossed the threshold, the massive doors were dragged closed with all their strength. Xandria immediately sent three teams to secure the remaining entrances.

The reports came back quickly.

All other gates were sealed from the inside.

At that confirmation, Xandria froze. A sharp breath caught in her throat, and a fierce, triumphant light flared in her eyes as the full weight of what she had been handed finally settled in.

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