Part 1: The Grey Barracks
[Location: Earth, Year 2145. Dynasty Guild Corporate HQ - "The Hive".]
The sound wasn't a scream. It was the hiss of six hundred hydraulic seals depressurizing at once.
In the vast, dimly lit "Dive Barracks" of the Dynasty Guild's headquarters, rows upon rows of immersion pods popped open in unison. It looked like a morgue suddenly waking up. Elite soldiers—men and women who had spent the last three years dominating the lower floors—scrambled out of their pods. Some vomited from the sudden sensory disconnect. Others clawed at their throats, phantom pains from Elian's blade still lingering in their minds.
"Status!" a Lieutenant yelled, stumbling onto the metal grating. "Why did we eject? I was at full health!"
Then, the holographic wall at the front of the room flickered to life. It didn't show the game world. It showed a System Administrative Alert in unforgiving crimson.
[SYSTEM ALERT: GUILD WAR CASUALTY REPORT]
Conflict: Battle of Iron-Root (Dynasty vs. Eclipse).
Outcome: Total Annihilation of Aggressor Force.
Penalty applied to: All 647 Participants.
Login Lockout: 168 Hours (Real Time).
A collective gasp swept through the room. 168 hours of real time was 21 days in-game. In the center of the room, Marcus Thorne emerged from his private pod. He didn't scream. He stared at the screen, his face pale. "He didn't just kill us," Thorne whispered. "He erased us from the era." For three weeks, they were trapped in the real world, forced to watch on the global news feeds as Eclipse conquered the floor without them.
Part 2: The Hero's Welcome
[Location: The Aerie, Capital of the Sky-Kin.]
While the Dynasty suffocated in the real world, the Eclipse Guild breathed the sweetest air in Aetheria. The Obsidian Leviathan drifted toward the docking spires of the Cloud Palace, flanked by forty Wind-Drakes.
Thousands of Sky-Kin citizens lined the marble bridges, tossing petals made of solidified light.
Sylvia Rain stood at the prow, her recording drone broadcasting live via the Aetheria Chronicles Network. "The Dynasty sleeps," she narrated. "For the next three weeks, the sky belongs to the Revolution."
Elian walked down the gangplank. Most of the loot—the gold and the standard equipment—had already been tallied and moved to the hold, but the "Special Tier" remained.
Part 3: The Avalanche
In the palace courtyard, Elian stood before the final, wrapped object. He beckoned Titan forward. While the others had already received their shares of the 9 million gold, this item was different.
Elian pulled the cloth away.
[Item: The Cataclysm Spear]
[Rank: Epic (Growth)]
[Description: A spear that becomes heavier the longer it is swung. It stores kinetic energy in its obsidian tip.]
Titan gripped the shaft. THOOM. The spearhead hit the ground, cracking the palace marble. Titan grunted, his muscles bulging as he tried to lift it. It was clumsy, a dead weight in his hands.
"You fight like a stone," a voice called out.
Prince Thal'dor leaped from a balcony, landing silently. The Storm-Prince walked up to Titan. He didn't sneer; he placed a blue hand over Titan's gauntlet.
"You root yourself and endure. That is for a shield," Thal'dor said. He kicked the butt of the spear, and the weapon spun, using Titan's own center of gravity as a pivot. The heavy tip whistled through the air, weightless for a split second before slamming into a training dummy, obliterating it. "This is an avalanche. Do not lift it, Groundling. Guide its fall. If you move together... nothing can stand in your way."
Titan looked at the Prince, then at the spear. A slow, determined grin spread across his face. "Be the avalanche," he repeated.
Part 4: The Gathering Storm
"Elian."
King Zephyr stood by the eastern archway, his back to the celebration. Elian walked over.
"Problem?"
"Look," Zephyr pointed.
Elian looked past the floating islands toward the distant Thunder Peaks. Usually, the sky there was a mix of grey and gold. Today, it was pitch black. A wall of darkness was consuming the horizon, moving against the wind.
"Volcanis," Zephyr whispered. "He felt his brother die. The Winter King is gone, and the balance is broken."
"We'll be ready," Elian said, his hand drifting to the hilt of Winter's Eclipse. "We'll fly out at dawn."
Zephyr turned, his eyes filled with a terrifying certainty. "You do not understand, Elian. That storm is not waiting for you to visit. He is not a boss who sits on a throne. He is a living hurricane."
A flash of crimson lightning tore through the black wall. KRA-KOOM. The sound hit them seconds later, shaking the wine in the goblets.
"He is coming here."
Elian stared at the approaching wall of night. The 21-day lockout on the Dynasty was a blessing, but it felt irrelevant now. The world itself was coming to kill them. They didn't have three weeks. They might not even have until morning.