As a result, Victor appeared remarkably ordinary and unassuming in his daily life. When he remained silent, people often felt as though he simply faded into the background, a presence so faint it could vanish at will if one stopped paying attention. There was something about that quiet, withdrawn air that carried a faint echo of Regis, the former city lord of Beastfall. It was worth remembering that Regis had reached the Apex State, the legendary harmony between man and heaven, where existence itself seemed to bend around one's presence.

"According to old legends," Victor said calmly, laying out what he knew, "when reality first crystallized from chaos, the Primordial Sun and Abyssal Void separated, and from that division was born the First Principle…"

He spoke at length, outlining pre-cataclysm theories and half-forgotten cosmological frameworks. To Blackie, it sounded like dense philosophical fog, words stacking on top of one another without forming anything solid. Blackfin wore the pained expression of a schoolboy being forced to relearn lessons he had happily forgotten years ago, his patience clearly wearing thin. Only Micah listened with genuine intensity, his brow tightening and relaxing as though something deep inside him was being stirred. He interrupted often, firing off sharp, incisive questions, and Victor answered each one with steady patience, sensing that Micah was hovering on the edge of an unusual kind of enlightenment.

Eventually, Blackie shot Blackfin a loaded look. Blackfin understood instantly, and the relief was almost physical. Without wasting a second, he made a hasty retreat, grateful for the excuse to escape before his brain melted completely.

---

Inside the icehouse, the moment Rainie finally reached her limit and collapsed, a subtle but unmistakable change flickered through Ethan's eyes.

The previously solid, luminous gold of his irises was suddenly invaded by a deep, unsettling violet. The color spread rapidly until nearly half of each eye was overtaken. At that exact moment, far above and beyond the icehouse, the Convergence Sigil that Victor's group had witnessed outside was born into existence.

When that Sigil, now compressed to the size of a ping-pong ball, pierced through the earth and plunged into the icehouse, it did not hesitate for even an instant. It shot forward with unerring precision and stamped itself directly between Ethan's brows, vanishing in a flash of light.

Its arrival was like throwing a master switch.

The gold and violet energies within Ethan's eyes began to rotate, intertwining as miniature Convergence Sigils formed and spun within his pupils. A heartbeat later, his finger twitched. Then his muscles followed, trembling as if awakening from a deep, enforced slumber.

Rainie, still lying on top of him, felt the change more clearly than anyone. A soft, broken whimper escaped her lips as the sensation overwhelmed her completely. Her body, which had been struggling to gather the strength to rise, gave up entirely and melted back down against him, trembling uncontrollably.

"Amber… help me…" she whispered, her plea so faint it barely carried through the cold air.

---

In Ethereal, war raged across every region without pause. The scramble for fortresses had reached a fever pitch, and in a single day the average player level across all servers dropped by three. It was slaughter on an industrial scale, a brutal culling that spared no one careless enough to fall behind.

Yet amid the chaos, the Northern Frontier Region of Dragonspire stood out as an anomaly. There, a strange and almost unsettling harmony had taken root.

After securing four advanced capital cities, the Renegade Alliance did not launch further aggressive campaigns. Instead, they mobilized to assist other guilds, offering military support to clear out the most formidable NPC-held strongholds. Once victory was secured, they handed those fortresses over entirely to their allies. Although many guilds had initially relocated their headquarters to the Renegade Alliance's first fortress, that arrangement had always been temporary. One by one, as each guild claimed its own stronghold, they moved out. Before long, nearly every major guild in the region possessed an independent, fortified base of its own.

Springhaven, by contrast, descended into absolute chaos. When the Blade Syndicate seized their fortress and the relocation deadline loomed, every guild that had sworn fealty to them flooded in all at once. A single Mid-Tier fortress became crammed with a chaotic sprawl of guild halls layered on top of one another. Even so, nearly a fifth of the pledged guilds could not fit inside at all and were forcibly dissolved by the system.

Springhaven's world chat erupted into a storm of furious curses. Those voices belonged to the players. The former guild leaders, however, were conspicuously silent. They had a reason. They were being hunted down and slaughtered back to the Starter Zone by their own former members.

The rage was inevitable. The moment a guild dissolved, all contributed points and guild-issued equipment vanished instantly, reclaimed by the system without exception. Many players had joined their guilds at the very beginning. Six months of grinding, loyalty, and effort were erased in the blink of an eye. No one could accept that quietly. The leaders had signed contracts with the Steele Consortium and allied themselves with the Blade Syndicate, all without the consent of their members. Now that the guilds were gone, former authority meant nothing. Revenge came first. Explanations could wait.

The organized scramble for fortresses in Springhaven collapsed entirely, giving way to pure, uncontrolled PvP anarchy.

Blackridge presented a different kind of struggle. The Nocturne Order, originally an all-rogue guild, had expanded by absorbing numerous affiliates to patch their strategic weaknesses. Even so, their position remained precarious. They were forced to coordinate coalition assaults on NPC fortresses while simultaneously maintaining the illusion that they were relentlessly hunting down the nuisance known as Markham.

Markham, for his part, was not playing along halfheartedly. Every time he appeared, he went all out, unleashing ultimate skills that caused real, catastrophic damage. Each time Xandria successfully led a fortress capture, he seemed to materialize solely to ruin the victory celebration.

On the third attempt, they finally cornered him. Seven or eight rogues struck at once, their openers landing in perfect synchronization and killing Markham instantly. Before his body even hit the ground, he managed to shout, "I'll be back!"

His corpse was then enthusiastically hacked apart. Blackridge despised him, and by extension, their resentment spilled over onto Ethan and the Renegade Alliance. They were simply too overpowering to ignore.

Shortly before Markham's supposed death, the Blade Syndicate in Springhaven finally suppressed their internal rebellion and began organizing proper fortress assaults in earnest.

Seeing Markham fall at last, Xandria released a long breath she felt she had been holding for days. Even knowing this was all part of Ethan's plan, Markham had committed to the role far too thoroughly. Every appearance had caused genuine losses. The only reason she had managed to catch him this time was because he deliberately leaked his own coordinates. She could not understand it. What was it with the people around the so-called Druid God? Every last one of them seemed unhinged.

Markham had been enough to mobilise half of Blackridge, with no clear solution in sight. How someone who was not even a stealth class, kept slipping past her scouts again and again was beyond comprehension.

Despite his final threat, Xandria knew Markham would not be returning here. Springhaven was his next destination. He was heading there to unleash his brand of chaos all over again.

At last, she grasped the full scope of Ethan's scheme. This was about cutting every visible tie between herself, Ethan, and the Renegade Alliance. Markham had provoked the Blade Syndicate first, then come to Blackridge. It was all a performance, staged for a wider audience. Xandria suspected Ethan's true goal was to maneuver her into a position where she could appear to ally with the Steele Consortium, becoming a hidden piece on the board, poised to deliver a decisive strike when the moment came.

She had never been particularly ambitious. Leadership had simply followed her from game to game until it became her livelihood. Looking back, her past accomplishments now felt trivial compared to the scale at which Ethan operated. More than ever, she found herself wondering what kind of man he truly was.

Within Ethereal, factions plotted, alliances shifted, and wars erupted with every passing moment.

And at that same moment, Ethan himself was undergoing a transformation of his own.

His consciousness, once scattered beyond repair, snapped back into place as if he were waking from a blackout. His memory froze on the instant he had detonated his own soul. Then, immediately after, he became aware of a strange yet deeply familiar sensation, an instinctive call echoing from the deepest part of his being. The unfamiliar surroundings sharpened into focus.

"You two…" Ethan said hoarsely, looking at the women before him.

Those were the only words he managed.

Driven by pure, primal instinct, he moved.

At a moment like this, hesitation would not have been foolish. It would have been inhuman.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.