Charice walked down an opulent hallway.
His feminine form would draw attention from others, but there were few to witness it. His long, golden locks, alongside his large, gem-blue eyes, immediately attracted the gaze of a nearby NPC.
Long robes hid his small waist, loosely hugging his curves, though they failed to hide the teasing, lonely look in his eyes and full lips.
"Greetings, Consort." Michael bowed respectfully. "Is there anything you require?"
"I'm good, thanks, Michael." Charice gave him a casual, stunning smile.
"Understood..." The guard said, a little rigid.
Michael was one of the elites, dressed in full, dark plate armor interlocking with wyvern scales underneath and equipped with a glinting halberd in his hands. He didn't have a helmet: Paragons don't need one. As such, his full brown hair and deep brown eyes were on full display, along with his trimmed beard.
Charice walked past him, opening a pair of wide, onyx doors with silver inscriptions.
Inside was a large parliamentary hall, a semicircle with tiered chairs overlooking a large platform for speeches. It was empty. Dust settled where fast friends once laughed.
At the very back, looming over all of the parliament, were two chairs.
One was large. Charice climbed a staircase to it, running his delicate fingers over the armrest.
"My beloved..." Charice sighed wistfully, "Uk..." He halted his tears... Barely.
He left a long time ago. Why shed tears now?
Charice sat on the smaller chair, just a step beneath the large one to its right, its soft, plush seat comforted him, nostalgic almost. Perhaps serene, even.
There were only a couple of hours left until the game shut down.
Decades later, he started playing at eight years old, and he would now be turning thirty-two years old.
"I haven't seen my beloved for four years... Maximus..."
And for that entire time, he had defended this place alone.
His mind raced, looking out into the hallway from his seat. Charice watched as the hours ticked by until there was only half an hour left.
The chat was filled with goodbyes and nostalgic memories. Charice smiled as a couple of new, low-level players texted into his guild chat. They had only just started the game, yet they remained at the end.
Some of them were doing one last raid; they invited Charice, but he turned them down. He was never that into combat; he preferred roleplay and politics... As well as some ERP, of course.
The chat flooded with countdowns: 10, 9, 8, the seconds flew by, until the number five appeared, and Maximus logged into the game.
With wide eyes, Charice scrambled to open Maximus' profile; there had to be a number, an address, mail, anything to help him get in touch after the end, yet there was simply not enough time.
The countdown reached zero.
The sensation was sickening. Charice watched as code slipped and cracked; the devs warned them to leave or experience intense nausea, but few heeded their warning.
But something unexpected happened.
As walls vanished, something reforged them. As the senses died, the spirit surged, filling in the gaps of existence.
A blue and red fog flowed where code once did, carried by a piercing headache Charice couldn't hope to describe, racked by insufferable pain, all he could do was weep and clutch his head as his eyes glowed with the golden shine of a hundred suns.
"It hurts!" He screamed, "Please stop!"
Then, it stopped, leaving behind an afterglow of tranquility.
Charice took a deep, shaky breath. His eyes remained closed, cheeks still stained with tears, but he didn't stand up; instead, he squirmed uncomfortably.
He sat there, minutes passing, breathing as deeply as he could to calm down. His head was throbbing, like an overworked computer that struggled to operate. Nonetheless, Charice gently moved his hands from his head and straightened himself in his seat.
The cushions were far softer, tingling his skin through his robes. They gave way to his butt and held it gently, and Charice found a chill crawling up his spine.
A cold chill calmed his mind, like sunscreen to burnt skin; it gave him the strength to open his eyes.
"My senses, mh... They aren't numbed? I-It's not legal to have overly realistic feedback, so why...?" He mumbled, leaning into his seat for a second.
But despite the shock, he found only an overwhelming joy. A surge of warmth fluttered from his stomach, goosebumps racing over his legs as his cheeks flushed.
'Maximus, I saw him log in, I'm sure of it! My beloved!' Any fear or concern was pushed to the side by the sheer excitement Charice felt at the thought of holding his beloved again, just hearing his voice even.
He stood up, focused, feeling the robes hugging him, yet he sought out more than the physical.
"O-Okay... I was able to feel things for kilometers in the game, maybe Max is somewhere in the city or the mountains?"
Charice felt his stomach boil and his mind shudder. Chaos, akin to a bubbling pot or perhaps a looming volcano begging for release, filled his core with butterflies. Red fog flowed from his hair, forming a misty cloak that flowed into the air.
His blue eyes widened with a soft golden hue, seeing a few strands of red cascade over his face.
"O-Oh! Chaos... Magic... Right. It's so warm..."
It felt like a warm shower, the gentle caress of a lover, or even the comfort of a soft bed. Quite in contrast to the other force that emerged.
Charice's eyes filled with a brighter gold hue as the red flowing from his hair became blue, a soft chill traveling down his spine. His senses sharpened even more, his mind stabilized and slowed, while he felt the reassuring hand of Order hold him firm.
From his stomach, heat boiled, while in his skull, rigid cold fell.
It hurt. Ice and lava flowed through Charice's veins, both seeking to purge the other. He gagged, a bit of red smoke pouring from his pores as his muscles tried to expel the Chaos within him. His skull rattled, boiling like a soup as Order wavered under the pressure, shattering against his bones.
"Ow... Damn it... I need to find Max and you two...!" His tone turned more severe, his golden eyes turning a brilliant pink. "Just stop!" Charice shouted with an imperialistic indignity, frustration burning brighter than any other force.
Order and Chaos retreated to their cores, the brain and stomach. Yet now a new one emerged as both gently spread across his body. His eyes calmed, and his breathing steadied as his body stopped fighting itself.
At his heart, neon blue and dark red mixed to create a shield with a light shade of brilliant pink coloring. His third core.
'I don't know what that's gonna do... I thought there were only two cores, one for order in the brain and the other for chaos in the stomach... Oh no...'
Charice could feel stress mounting in his mind as confusion and concern weighed on him, but Order held him firm; his beloved would surely know what to do in this situation, so he turned to that.
"Okay... Gotta find Maximus..."
Now with his power sorted, Charice closed his blue eyes. He licked his lips, eyes gaining a blue shine as Order stretched through the walls around him. he breathed a ruby-red mist, infesting the air around him, feeling every inch.
His senses grew and expanded as a headache mounted. Charice could barely cover a square kilometer, a mere fraction of where his limits truly were.
His Chaos magic was far more intense but local. It never left a couple of meters near him, but allowed him to feel every inch, every subtle change in the wind, every breath of his, every shudder of his skin, the kind his subconscious would have hidden from him.
"Owie... Frick, it hurts..." Charice whined, clutching at his head. He took a deep breath, sucking in the red mist.
Well, the pain meant he was still alive at the very least, and it certainly shouldn't be so intense according to safety laws. If this were reality, what would he do?
The thought disturbed him, so he focused on the present again.
"...I could once cover the whole city... Mhm... I guess my brain has to handle the power instead of supercomputers, and it's taking its toll... I need to check the NPCs too... I think Michael was outside, right?"
Charice walked out into the hallway, the cold marble stung at his bare feet, but the warmth in his belly moved to suppress it soon enough, keeping him at a comfortable temperature, the sensation itself pleasant and soothing.
Charice looked at Michael, now next to him, and the latter stood at attention, tightly gripping his halberd.
"Michael," Charice began, "Could you do something for me?"
Michael froze up; he had never been given an order or request before. He stood and guarded the parliament chamber, but he nodded after some contemplation.
"If you deem me worthy, I will do whatever you ask."
Charice gave him a sweet smile, "Thanks, hun. Could you follow me for a while? Think of it as being my escort."
Not waiting for a response, Charice quickly motioned for Michael to follow, heading down the hallway into places unknown to Michael, who blinked.
"...Hun?" He didn't know whether to be flustered, happy, or honored, and yet he was all at once somehow. Getting called honey by someone who is that pretty will always feel great after all.
'Well... Duty calls, I suppose.' Michael then began walking after Charice to his right, determined to do his duty and do it well.