The grand meeting hall had fallen into complete silence.
Not a single voice rose after Toto's exit, his words still echoing like thunder through the minds of those left seated. Each leader stared ahead, lost in the web of consequences and political threads now dangling in the aftermath of the administrator's announcement.
Of course, none of them could move without first reporting to their direct superiors—those enigmatic figures dwelling on the third level. But even then, the third-level executives rarely gave strict orders. Instead, they allowed their lieutenants on the second level to manoeuvre as they saw fit, only intervening if something became dangerously unstable… or particularly promising.
In other words, this.
Suddenly, a soft, almost ethereal voice floated from the corner of the hall.
"Interesting…"
Heads turned as one. A few leaders straightened in their seats. Others squinted into the shadows where the voice had come from.
A slender figure had just stepped back from the window. He wore a smooth grey coat that shimmered faintly in the low light, and his face was obscured behind a matte grey mask with two narrow, black slits for the eyes. His hands were hidden within his sleeves, posture relaxed—yet every single person at that table knew better.
He was the leader of the Shadow Guild. The Guild of Secrets. The Guild of Truths that others were never supposed to know.
When he spoke, everyone listened.
Evelyn tilted her head slightly and studied him, her black eyes narrowing with a gleam of curiosity.
'What's he going to say?' she wondered, already knowing it would be something important.
'He's one of the few here who has access to more information than I do…'
The grey-masked man turned away from the window and let his gaze sweep over the gathered leaders. His voice, calm and clipped, broke the silence once more.
"Your problem," he said, speaking directly to Wu Gongfu, "has achieved something unthinkable."
The room didn't breathe.
Gongfu's large hand moved instantly, calling up his interface in midair, he frantically searched for confirmation. His brows furrowed in increasing anger.
The Shadow Guild leader's voice didn't falter.
"I just received confirmation. Player Ali engaged the Sorcerer Killer, Toji Fushiguro… and defeated him. Alone. Multiple players were witness."
The tension in the hall, already taut, now cracked like glass.
Shock rippled across the table. Some stared blankly at their own interfaces, while others exchanged quiet glances, as if the threat had suddenly become real to them for the first time.
But not everyone was stunned.
One figure, sitting halfway down the table, smiled with radiant delight. Evelyn. Her black-painted nails tapped lightly against the surface of the table, her smirk growing with every second of disbelief in the air.
She stood gracefully, tucking back a lock of raven hair, and turned to leave.
"Is the Death Guild taking sides with a threat to our interests?"
Wu Gongfu's deep voice boomed through the chamber like a gavel slamming against stone.
Evelyn paused mid-step, only halfway through the archway. Slowly, she turned her head over her shoulder, her long lashes casting shadows across her cheekbones. Her voice was sweet, but coldly precise.
"The Death Guild will remain neutral in every conflict, as we always have," she said.
"As you all know, I have a picture of every single one of you on our wall…" She glanced back at the others with a devilish smile. "Right next to Ali."
With that, she walked out of the hall with deliberate calm, the echo of her heels the only sound left behind her.
The Shadow Guild's masked leader let out a low chuckle and followed her out without a word, his coat sweeping behind him like mist.
Wu Gongfu's face twisted in rage, his hand shaking slightly as he gripped the arm of his seat.
CRACK.
The thick wooden chair snapped under the pressure of his clenched fingers, splinters scattering across the tiled floor.
Elsewhere, Paradise was alive—more than alive, it was roaring.
The streets of the second level were flooded with players moving in every direction. The market had erupted into chaos as adventurers scrambled to stock up on anything that could give them an edge before the gate opened. Potions, charms, spells, and enchanted items were being bought in bulk, especially once the Adventurers Guild declared its full support of the expedition.
Even more surprising, the guild announced it would cover 1,000 PC of the entry fee for every unranked member. A powerful move. One meant to rally mass participation and surge their numbers inside the gate.
News of that alone lit up the crowd with energy and argument.
In the centre of it all, unseen and unbothered, Ali moved like a phantom.
Draped in a black hood, his identity was perfectly hidden from the swirling chaos around him. He walked past excited players, past street performers and shouted prices, his sharp ears effortlessly picking up on the constant chatter that filled the air.
Whispers of the guilds' decisions.
Speculation on the gate's dangers.
Rumours of what was said inside that private meeting hall.
Ali's black boots eventually carried him up the side of a quiet shop, and he perched on its roof like a shadow watching the current of humanity below.
'That stone guy wasn't too happy, huh…' Ali mused to himself, thinking if a rumour he heard about Wu Gongfu.
Then a soft chime echoed in his ear—his interface. A message.
[Ali, are you free tonight? I miss you.]
Ali read the message with a quirk of his brow. From Evelyn. The woman now regarded across the city as his apparent lover.
He smirked and replied:
[Are you sure you can handle two nights in a row?]
Her response was quick.
[No, you pervert. Let's go out for dinner.]
Ali exhaled softly, the ghost of amusement crossing his lips. As he thought, he raised his finger, and from his shadow a narrow white fang emerged. It extended to his fingertip like an elegant blade. He tapped it gently, drawing a single droplet of blood that vanished just as fast as it appeared.
'It's sharp.' His thoughts were casual, but behind his eyes, always calculating.
He dismissed the fang with a flick, drawing it back into the void of his shadow.
[I'll meet you outside your headquarters.]
[I can't wait.] she replied, eagerly—too eagerly.
Ali sent one final message.
[And tell the sisters to stop spreading rumours. It should be common knowledge by now.]
No reply.
He closed the interface and opened another—Jacob's.
Jacob responded within a minute, telling him the time for their meet-up.
'I should get the contract ready,' Ali thought, vanishing from the rooftop in the blink of an eye, his figure swallowed by the wind like a ghost returning to the shadows.
Two hours later…
The familiar scent of fresh bread, roasted beans, and melted butter filled the quiet air of the small French café nestled in the second level's market square. Inside, Jacob sat at the same table he and Ali had used for breakfast earlier that day, elbows on the polished wood, fingers drumming absently against a chipped ceramic plate.
The older French owner—graceful despite her age—shuffled behind the counter, pulling ingredients and trays with the rhythm of a woman who already knew her guest's routine. The moment Jacob stepped inside, she'd turned the sign to Closed. He valued his privacy, and she valued his money.
"Prepare a big table of food," Jacob called out over his shoulder. "That guy might eat the chairs if he's hungry."
A soft chuckle came from the counter. But just as the words left his mouth—
CLACK.
The café door opened, the faint bell above it rattling violently from the sudden gust. Jacob sat upright like a soldier caught gossiping by his commander.
"I heard that."
Ali's voice was deep. His black hood slid down as he took his seat opposite Jacob, tossing the cloth casually onto a nearby table.
Jacob let out a theatrical sigh, leaning back in his chair with a sardonic smile. "Of course you did. I forgot I was dealing with Superman over here."
Ali gave him a flat look. "Who's that?"
Jacob blinked.
"What?"
"Superman. I don't know who that is."
Jacob stared, stunned. "You're messing with me."
"No. Never heard of him."
Jacob ran both hands down his face. "You've got to be kidding me. What—did you grow up in the Stone Age? Did you choose to live under a rock?"
"No. And no," Ali said matter-of-factly, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. "Anyway, how far along did you get?"
Jacob groaned and gave up trying to explain superhero culture. He opened his interface and sighed again, this time with more weight. "It was easy at first. Smooth sailing for the first few hours—necklaces were everywhere. But then…"
He trailed off and gestured vaguely toward the sky, exasperated. "The rabbit happened. The damn merchant guild got flooded. Market exploded out of nowhere."
Ali nodded once. "So, how many?"
Jacob's frustration lingered in his voice. "I managed to spend 25,000 PC so far. Most were around 400 each. Merchants promised to track more down by tomorrow, but the supply's tight."
"25,000 is good," Ali said coolly. "Spend the rest by tomorrow. We sell the day after. Arena will be packed."
Jacob snorted. "Flatter yourself much? You think the arena's going to fill just to watch you fight? Everyone'll be too busy preparing for the gate."
Ali calmly broke off a piece of bread as the French owner arrived with a tray of fresh pastries. "Just do your job. That same rabbit won't miss a chance to milk the whole city for PC. You'll see. Don't be surprised if he plasters my face across the arena wall."
Jacob rolled his eyes. "God help us."
Ali's tone changed. "Jacob. You have the gloves with you?"
Jacob leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. "Do you have the ring?"
Ali's black eyes hardened. "I've dealt with your situation."
Jacob's face froze. "What… what does that mean?"
"It means it's not in your best interest to leave the Air Guild," Ali said plainly.
Silence.
Jacob blinked. His jaw tensed. His fingers curled slowly into fists. A storm brewed behind his glowing white eyes, green light starting to pulse dangerously around the edges.
The air inside the café shifted.
Tables trembled. Chairs groaned. The café door slammed open, then slammed shut with a BANG as Jacob's wind erupted like a silent scream.
Pastries were lifted clean off their plates. Napkins and cutlery clattered through the air. The glassware rattled ominously.
Ali didn't flinch. His eyes tracked one pastry spinning in the air, and just before it hit the ground, he raised his hand.
FOOM.
A pulse of Telekinesis swept through the café like a hand brushing a table clean of dust. Every chair, table, and pastry returned to its place perfectly, silently, like nothing had happened.
Jacob looked across the table, breathing heavy. "Ali… you can't do that. You don't get to make that decision. Tell me what you did. We can fix it, I swear—just tell me."
Ali set his bread down, his voice cold and sharp. "You're mistaking this for a negotiation. Calm yourself before I start taking your actions as disrespect."
Jacob's breath caught in his throat. He looked away, his pulse racing. He knew Ali wasn't bluffing. The power he just saw—he could feel the pressure in the air like a coiled blade above his neck.
He swallowed hard. Slowly, he lowered his face. Closed his eyes.
After a few moments of silence, he raised his head again, this time calmer—but not at peace. His expression had darkened. There was fury in his heart now, a deep ember of resentment quietly sparking to life.
"…I got your ring on the first day," Ali said casually, as if nothing had just happened. "It was easy."
Jacob's expression didn't change. "And?"
"That's when I met an interesting fellow. Name's Philip. Dice Devil. Big French guy—slow, but that's part of his personality."
Jacob raised an eyebrow. "I know him."
"Well, long story short," Ali continued, brushing crumbs from his fingers, "I fought him. Put the ring on the line."
Jacob stared at him.
Then blinked.
Then his whole body jerked forward over the table, eyes wide with panic. "You what?"
His voice cracked.
"Ali—did you lose the ring to that freak? Fuck. Fuck, it's over—"
He buried his face in his hands, gripping his hair like he was trying to rip out the consequences.
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