The silence in the meeting room was deafening after the broadcast ended. Everyone stood frozen, minds racing, trying to process what they'd just witnessed. Seventy-four matches. Seventy-four deaths. Not a single victory against even one Centurion.

And they had three days before it was their turn.

"We can't just sit here," Aria finally said, breaking the paralysis. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the shock. "We need to do something. Anything."

"What do you suggest?" Nyla asked, though her tone wasn't dismissive—she genuinely wanted ideas.

Aria's jaw tightened, her hand moving instinctively to her blade. "We kill Jeren. Directly. If the Titan dies, the tournament dies with him, right? No more compulsion. No more arena. No more Centurions."

The room stirred. Several people sat up straighter, hope flickering in their eyes.

"That..." Ryan said slowly, his good arm crossing over his chest while the broken one hung in its sling. "That could actually work. Cut off the head of the snake."

"It makes sense strategically," Nibo added, his deep voice rumbling with approval. "Why fight through a thousand warriors when you can eliminate the one controlling them?"

"Exactly," Aria pressed. "We've faced Titans before. We beat Langdon. We survived the Blood Monarch. Jeren might be powerful, but he's still just one person."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. The mood was shifting from despair to determination, from helplessness to action.

But Akhil remained quiet, his expression troubled.

"Akhil?" Aria turned to him, noticing his silence. "What do you think?"

He looked up, meeting her eyes. "I think it's a good idea in theory." He paused, letting the weight of that qualifier sink in. "But I have one question."

"What?"

"How?"

The single word deflated the rising hope like a punctured balloon.

"How do we kill him?" Akhil continued, his voice calm but pointed. "How do we even get close to him? Where is he right now? What are his abilities? What defenses does he have? Can we even reach him before the tournament starts?"

The room fell silent again, but this time it was different—thoughtful rather than shocked.

Ryan's brow furrowed, his muscular arms still crossed over his chest. He stood like that for several moments, clearly working through the problem. Then his eyes lit up slightly.

"Infiltration," he said. "Jeren said the tournament starts in three days. That means he's somewhere preparing, setting things up. If we go now—right now—we might be able to find him before all his defenses are in place. Strike while he's vulnerable."

"A preemptive attack," the elven woman nodded. "Before he expects resistance. Before the full convergence of players."

"We have fighters," Nibo added. "Between the humans, orcs, elves, and dwarves, we could assemble a strike team. Our best warriors, moving fast and hitting hard."

The energy in the room was building again, plans forming, strategies developing.

But Akhil shook his head.

"No," he said quietly.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"No?" Aria asked, confusion and frustration mixing in her voice. "Akhil, we need to do something. We can't just wait for—"

"I'm not saying we do nothing," Akhil interrupted gently. "I'm saying rushing in blind is suicide." He looked around the room, meeting each person's eyes. "Think about it. Doesn't this feel too simple? Too easy?"

"Easy?" Ryan's voice rose slightly. "What about this sounds easy?"

"The solution," Akhil clarified. "Just... go find Jeren and kill him. A Titan who's orchestrated tournaments for who knows how long, who has the favor of multiple gods, who commands ten legendary warriors and a thousand elite fighters. And we're supposed to just walk up and assassinate him?"

The words hung in the air, uncomfortable but undeniable.

"He's a Titan," Akhil continued. "He didn't get that title for nothing. Langdon was a Titan, and look what he was capable of. The Blood Monarch..." He paused, the memory still raw. "We barely survived. And you want to charge at another Titan without even knowing what his powers are?"

"So what do you suggest?" Nyla asked. Her tone wasn't challenging—she looked genuinely interested in his perspective.

"Information," Akhil said simply. "We need to know what we're dealing with. What are Jeren's abilities? What can he actually do? How does his compulsion work? Can it be resisted? Broken? What are the rules of his arena? Are there loopholes? Weaknesses?"

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table.

"We can't afford to underestimate him. Can't afford to assume it'll be straightforward. We need intelligence before we act."

Another heavy silence fell. Everyone understood the logic, but the frustration was palpable. They wanted action. Wanted to fight back. Wanted to feel like they were doing something other than waiting to be slaughtered.

"But how?" J asked, voicing what everyone was thinking. "How do we get information on someone like that? It's not like we can just ask around."

More silence. The problem seemed insurmountable—they needed information, but had no way to gather it. Needed to act, but couldn't act blindly. Needed time, but only had three days.

Then a deep, gravelly voice spoke up from the back of the room.

"We have a way."

Everyone turned. The dwarven king—a stocky figure with a magnificent braided beard and armor that looked like it had survived a hundred wars—stepped forward.

"A way to what?" Akhil asked.

"To travel," the king replied. "To move quickly between locations. We have an item—a teleportation rune. Ancient dwarven craftsmanship. That's how we managed to reach the southern district so fast when we thought we were coming to war."

Akhil's eyes widened. A teleportation device? That changed everything. They could scout. Could gather intelligence. Could potentially even execute hit-and-run tactics if needed.

But then another thought struck him, and his eyes truly lit up.

"You're dwarves," he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

The king raised an eyebrow. "Aye? And?"

"You make weapons. Equipment. Armor." Akhil stood up, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "You have forges. Crafters. The best metalworkers in the game."

"The best metalworkers anywhere," the king corrected with a hint of pride.

"Then that's what we need," Akhil said, his mind racing. "Forget infiltration for now. Forget rushing in blind. What we need is to arm ourselves. Properly arm ourselves. If we're going to face Jeren, face his Centurions, face a tournament designed to kill us—we need weapons worthy of the challenge."

The room stirred with renewed interest.

"Powerful weapons," Akhil continued. "Legendary equipment. Armor that can withstand divine blessings. Swords that can cut through Centurion defenses. We have three days. Three days to prepare. Let's use them."

The dwarven king stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Aye, we can do that. We have the skill, the forges, the knowledge." He paused. "But we'll need materials. Cores, specifically. Beast cores, monster cores, any cores of sufficient quality to craft weapons powerful enough for what you're describing."

"We can get cores," Aria said immediately. "Hunt beasts. Clear monster dens. The surrounding area still has plenty of dangerous creatures."

"But there's a problem," Ryan interjected. "If only our group is hunting, if only a handful of us are gathering cores... we won't collect enough fast enough. Not for hundreds of fighters. Not in three days."

The momentum faltered again. They had a solution, but the scale was overwhelming. How do you arm an army in three days with only a handful of gatherers?

The door to the meeting room creaked open.

Everyone turned, hands moving toward weapons out of instinct. But the figure that stumbled through wasn't a threat.

Seth stood in the doorway, looking absolutely terrible. His armor was askew, his hair was a mess pointing in every direction, and his eyes were barely open. He swayed slightly, clearly having just woken up from a very long, very deep sleep.

"Ugh," he groaned, rubbing his face. "Why is everyone yelling? What time is it? What day is it?"

He blinked slowly at the room full of people staring at him, clearly trying to process why there was a meeting happening and why he hadn't been informed.

Then something clicked in Akhil's mind. Something important. Something that might just solve their entire problem.

His eyes went wide. "Seth!"

The guild master flinched at the volume. "What? What's happening? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"The guild master title," Akhil said urgently. "You can add quests to the adventurer board, right? System quests that all registered adventurers can see and accept?"

Seth blinked at him groggily. "Uh... yeah? I mean, yes. It's one of the title abilities. Why—"

"That's it!" Akhil spun to face the others. "We don't need just our group hunting. We mobilize everyone. Every adventurer in the district. Seth posts a quest—gather beast cores, bring them to the dwarven forges, and in exchange, you get a custom weapon crafted specifically for you."

Understanding dawned across the faces in the room.

"The adventurers do the hunting," Nyla said, working through the logistics. "Bring the materials to the dwarves. The dwarves craft the weapons and distribute them back to the adventurers. Everyone gets equipped. Everyone becomes stronger."

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