On the outskirts of the City of Harmony, hundreds of thousands of people had gathered, their anxious voices blending into a chaotic chorus that echoed off the towering walls.
Towards the back of this restless crowd, a lone figure stood out—a man clad in black and white full-body armor, his chest emblazoned with a red cross. His crimson cloak, bearing the symbol of a heart crossed with a blade, fluttered behind him as he tried to push his way through the dense throng of players.
Despite his imposing presence and the sharp, confident stride of a seasoned warrior, the sheer mass of bodies proved a formidable obstacle. The crowd barely budged, players locked in panicked conversations or stubbornly holding their ground, each too focused on their own fear and confusion to notice the armored figure attempting to pass.
Crimson Aegis let out a low, frustrated growl, his gauntleted fingers flexing with restrained irritation. He needed to reach the gates, but for now, the sea of players stood in his way.
Crimson Aegis paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the dense crowd of players that stretched out before him. Without the game's familiar system interface, he had no way to confirm if his custom skills, painstakingly crafted over years of play, would still function in this strange, seemingly real world.
But he had to try.
He bent his knees, his armor creaking slightly under the strain as he prepared for a long jump. Focusing his mind on the skill he had dubbed "Heaven's Leap", he felt the familiar tension coil in his muscles—a sensation he hadn't felt since the days when his abilities were just lines of code and calculations.
With a sudden burst of power, he launched himself into the air, rocketing upward in a blur of black, white, and crimson. The ground below cracked under the force of his takeoff, and he soared over the heads of the stunned players, the wind whipping past his helmet as he arced through the air.
But as he reached the peak of his jump, he realized he had miscalculated. The towering western wall of the City of Harmony rose rapidly before him, and before he could adjust his trajectory, he crashed down onto its stone battlements, landing with a resounding thud.
The stone beneath his armored boots cracked and splintered, sending a shockwave through the surrounding ramparts. Nearby soldiers, armed and armored in the style of the Heartless Republic's elite guard, stumbled back in alarm, their eyes wide as they turned to face the armored figure who had just dropped from the sky.
For a moment, the wall fell into stunned silence, broken only by the faint, lingering echo of his landing.
"W-What the hell was that?!" one of the soldiers stammered, his spear shaking in his grasp as he took a step back.
"Did… did someone just jump up here?!" another guard shouted, his helmet clattering as he turned to face the massive, armored figure standing at the center of the fresh crater.
Crimson Aegis straightened slowly, the red cross emblazoned on his chestplate catching the light of the midday sun. He glanced down at the shattered stone beneath his feet, his own shock evident even behind the shadowed visor of his helmet.
"W-What the…?" he muttered to himself, his grip tightening on the hilt of his greatsword as he processed what had just happened. "I… I actually made it…?"
The soldiers continued to stare, some whispering to each other in hushed, fearful tones as the dust settled around them. One of the braver guards took a cautious step forward, his eyes narrowing as he raised his spear defensively.
"Identify yourself, stranger!" the guard demanded, his voice wavering slightly. "Who are you, and how did you manage to leap onto the city wall like that?"
Crimson Aegis took a deep breath, his mind racing as he tried to piece together his next move. "So… my skills really do work here," he thought, a faint grin spreading beneath his helmet.
But one high ranking soldier who are in charge of monitoring the situation on the western wall noticed the his cloak because it is the mark on his cloak is their nation flag.
As the dust began to settle, the soldiers surrounding Crimson Aegis remained tense, their weapons pointed at him in wary anticipation. The air crackled with a mix of fear and confusion, the once steady routine of the western wall shattered by the sudden, explosive arrival of the armored figure.
But one soldier, standing a little farther back, froze as his eyes locked onto the crimson heart and cross emblazoned on the billowing cloak of the intruder. The symbol was unmistakable—two powerful, interlocking emblems that formed the unmistakable flag of their nation, The Republic of the Heartless.
The soldier's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as a wave of disbelief washed over him. This wasn't just any warrior.
"W-Wait…" he stammered, his hand falling away from the hilt of his blade as he took a hesitant step forward. "That… that symbol… it's the Heartless insignia!"
The other guards, their nerves already on edge, glanced at each other in stunned silence. They shifted their attention from their trembling spear tips to the heavy, fluttering cloak on the newcomer's back.
"The Heartless insignia?" one of them muttered, his grip loosening slightly. "But… that can't be… The Heartless Guild members vanished fifty years ago!"
The high-ranking officer, his armor adorned with the ornate insignia of a battalion commander, pushed his way through the line of stunned guards. His sharp eyes took in every detail of the newcomer's attire—the meticulously crafted Templar-like armor, the crimson heart and cross, and the air of unshakable confidence that surrounded the figure.
"You…" the officer said, his voice steady despite the disbelief etched across his face. "You bear the mark of the Heartless. Identify yourself!"
Crimson Aegis slowly turned to face the officer, his armored frame casting a long, imposing shadow across the battlements. Beneath his helmet, his eyes narrowed as he considered his next move, the thrill of a long-forgotten power thrumming through his veins.
"I am Crimson Aegis," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of countless battles and the unyielding pride of a warrior who had once stood among the legends of the game world. "Supreme Executor of the Heartless Guild… and one of the Six High Elders of this nation."
A shocked silence fell over the wall, the gathered soldiers frozen as the weight of his words crashed over them.
Even as Crimson Aegis declared his identity, a wave of disbelief rippled through the ranks of the soldiers around him. Many of them had been born long after the adventurers had vanished, their childhoods filled with tales of the unkillable warriors who had once walked their world. To them, the Heartless were legends—myths whispered by elders around campfires, stories etched into history but never witnessed firsthand.
One of the younger soldiers, barely out of his teens, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at the imposing, armor-clad figure. "You expect us to believe that?" he shouted, his voice tinged with both fear and defiance. "The Heartless disappeared fifty years ago! Our grandparents might have known them, but we were born into a world without adventurers!"
Another soldier, a seasoned veteran with streaks of gray in his hair, tightened his grip on his spear. "And even if you wear their insignia, anyone could have stolen that cloak. Anyone could claim to be one of the Six High Elders."
Murmurs of agreement spread through the ranks, a low, uneasy rumble like the distant growl of an approaching storm. The soldiers' eyes darted between each other, doubt etched into their faces as they struggled to reconcile the impossible sight before them. Some even whispered that this might be an elaborate ruse—an imposter seeking to exploit ancient fears and forgotten loyalties.
Crimson Aegis remained silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the doubtful faces around him. A faint, almost amused chuckle echoed from within his helmet, the sound carrying an edge of anticipation.
"I see," he muttered, the corners of his mouth curving into a hidden smirk. "So the world has truly forgotten us."
He reached back, his armored fingers tightening around the hilt of his massive blade. The metal groaned under his grip, the ancient runes etched into the blade's surface beginning to glow with a fierce, crimson light. The air around him crackled with the faint hum of forgotten power, a pulse of raw, unrestrained might that sent a shiver down the spines of every soldier present.
"Then perhaps," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, predatory tone, "it's time I remind this world who the Heartless truly are."
As the commotion grew tense atop the wall, down below, a tall, sharp-eyed figure dressed in a finely crafted military uniform paused, his long, pointed ears twitching slightly. He felt it—a sudden, intense surge of energy radiating from the upper wall, like the awakening of a long-dormant storm. His keen senses, sharpened through centuries of life, recognized this presence immediately.
"Impossible," he whispered, his emerald eyes narrowing as he turned towards the source of the disturbance. Without another thought, he began moving, his long, graceful strides carrying him swiftly through the bustling soldiers and frantic officers. His silver hair trailed behind him, catching the sunlight as he ascended the stone steps leading to the top of the western wall.
When he reached the summit, the sight before him made him stop in his tracks. There, towering over the gathered soldiers, stood a figure he had only ever heard about in the tales passed down through generations—a warrior clad in black and white armor, the crimson heart and cross emblazoned on his cloak flaring out behind him like the banner of a forgotten era.
For a brief moment, the elf's mind raced, recalling the stories his ancestors had told him—stories of the Heartless Guild, the unkillable adventurers who had once reshaped the very fabric of this world, and the six High Elders who had led them.
"Crimson Aegis," the elf breathed, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. He quickly straightened his posture, his hands instinctively moving to his sides as he approached the armored figure.
"Welcome back, my lord," he said, his deep, melodic voice cutting through the tense silence on the wall. "It seems the winds of fate have truly begun to stir once more."
Crimson Aegis straightened, the weight of his armor settling firmly on his broad shoulders as he turned to face the elf who had addressed him. The sight of the tall, silver-haired figure sparked a faint, distant feeling, a flicker of recognition that danced just beyond his grasp.
For a moment, he studied the elf's sharp, angular features, the way his emerald eyes shone with a mix of respect and curiosity, and the confident, almost regal way he held himself. It felt familiar, like a fragment of a forgotten dream or the echo of an old comrade's voice.
"Do I... know you?" Crimson Aegis muttered, his deep voice muffled slightly by the helmet that covered his face. He felt a strange sense of connection, as if this elf had once stood beside him in the heat of battle or perhaps shared a drink in a long-forgotten tavern.
The elf's eyes softened for a moment, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He stepped closer, his boots making a soft clink against the ancient stones of the wall.
"You may not recall me, my lord," the elf said, placing a hand over his heart in a gesture of deep respect, "but my father was once one of your trusted comrades. He fought beside you as a member of the Heartless Guild, building this nation from the ground up."
Crimson Aegis tilted his head, the name stirring faint memories of a tall, battle-hardened elf who had often stood at his side during the chaotic early days of the Republic's rise—a fierce warrior with a blade that sang through the air like a whisper of death.
"Your father... he was a player," he muttered, his voice low and thoughtful. "One of us."
The elf chuckled softly, his eyes shimmering with an ancient, unspoken understanding.
"Indeed, my lord," he replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "It has been fifty long years since you and the other High Elders vanished. Many of us had begun to believe you would never return."
Crimson Aegis remained silent for a moment, the weight of the elf's words settling over him like a shroud. The years had passed like a fleeting breath in the real world, but here, time had marched on without him, reshaping the very world he had once helped build.
"It seems," he said, his voice steady and firm once more, "that we have much to discuss."
The elf straightened, a glint of determination sparking in his eyes.
"Indeed, my lord," he said, stepping back and gesturing towards the heart of the city below, where the ancient spires of the capital glowed in the midday sun. "Welcome back to the Republic of the Heartless."