As the sun dipped below the horizon on the second day of the players' return, the long, intense meeting finally came to an end. The high elders exchanged solemn glances, the weight of their decisions settling on their shoulders.
They agreed that it was time to call their scattered forces back together. They would need every ally, every loyal warrior, and every veteran strategist if they were to guide this nation through the challenges ahead.
Crimson turned to Moonlight Fury, his expression firm. "Issue a nationwide order," he said, his voice steady. "All core members of the Heartless Guild are to return to the City of Harmony within four days. It's time to regroup."
Moonlight Fury nodded, understanding the gravity of the task. The call would echo across every corner of the Heartless Republic, reaching those who had once stood beside them in countless battles.
Crimson stood, his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd and his fellow high elders. "Before we move forward, there's something I need to do," he said, his voice carrying a firm resolve. "As the former Supreme Executor, I have a responsibility to this city. With so many players returning, including those who once thrived as notorious player killers, it's possible that some of them might try to cause trouble."
He straightened, the aura of authority around him unmistakable. "The local residents may have forgotten us, or perhaps they still remember. Either way, I need to ensure that no one disrupts the peace of this city. I'll conduct a night patrol."
The room fell into a thoughtful silence, the weight of his words settling on the gathered leaders. Crimson knew that he couldn't allow the chaos of the past to resurface, not when so much had been sacrificed to build this nation.
The others nodded in agreement, understanding the necessity of his decision. Sir Pendragon gave him a respectful nod, while Xiao Li Jing playfully added, "Just don't cause too much chaos yourself, Crimson."
Erondil stepped forward, his expression serious. "If you require support, the National City Guard is at your disposal. Colonel General Valandor, who is also present here, commands the guard. They are well-trained and loyal."
Crimson glanced at Valandor, who gave a sharp, disciplined nod. He considered the offer for a moment, appreciating the thought, but then shook his head. "I appreciate it, but for now, this is a task I need to handle alone. My goal is to assess the situation quietly – to understand if any notorious player killers have returned. Moving with a large force would defeat that purpose."
Valandor simply responded with a respectful, "Understood, sir."
One by one, the other past high elders also spoke up about their plans.
Sir Pendragon mentioned that he would focus on stabilizing the financial sector, given the sudden economic boom and supply shortages. Xiao Li Jing, with a playful grin, declared that she would rally their old contacts and ensure that their influence among the returning players remained strong. Salahadin, ever the strategist, said he would investigate the current military capabilities of the Heartless Republic, while Moonlight Fury quietly stated that he would handle intelligence gathering on the changes in the world and potential threats.
Irina, her eyes sharp and determined, added that she would head to the outskirts of the city to assess the strength of the monsters.
"It's been fifty years here. Who knows how the outside has changed? If the monsters have grown stronger, it might be a problem for the returning players and the city's defenses," she said, her voice steady but carrying a hint of excitement at the prospect of a challenge.
With their tasks decided, the meeting came to an end.
Before leaving the Heartless Palace, Crimson slipped away to one of the palace chambers. He removed his elegant prince outfit, neatly storing it in his dimensional ring, and donned his battle outfit. The familiar weight of his armor felt comforting, like a second skin, a reminder of countless battles and victories.
Once he was fully prepared, Crimson leave the chamber without a word. Rather than exiting the main gates, he moved silently through the shadowed halls, finding his way to a secluded part of the palace wall. With a powerful leap, he scaled the wall and landed gracefully on the other side.
Instead of taking the bustling streets below, he chose the higher ground, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. The cool night air brushed against his face as he moved, his cloak fluttering like a shadow through the moonlit city.
For a full two hours, Crimson moved swiftly across the rooftops, his eyes sharp as he observed the streets below. He watched for any signs of chaos or crime, scanning every shadowed alley and bustling avenue. His senses remained alert, catching snippets of conversations, the clinking of armor, and the occasional clatter of merchant carts being packed away for the night.
As he patrolled, he noted the mixture of tension and excitement in the air, a city adjusting to the sudden return of millions of immortal adventurers. Yet, despite the crowd, he found no immediate signs of trouble.
After another hour passed, Crimson had already intervened in several minor crimes. He apprehended pickpockets attempting to swipe purses from distracted citizens and stopped a small gang of robbers trying to hold up a lone merchant in a side alley. Each time, he left the criminals securely tied up before summoning the city guards to take them into custody.
Once satisfied that the streets he had patrolled were momentarily secure, he decided to head to the upper wall of the western gate. He leapt effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop, his cloak billowing behind him, until he reached the massive stone walls that guarded the city. From this vantage point, he could observe the steady stream of newly returned players entering through the western gate, their faces filled with awe and curiosity as they took in the sights of the Heartless Republic's capital for the first time in decades.
While observing the western gate, Crimson noticed a sprawling encampment stretching out beyond the city walls. Rows of tents, makeshift camps, and hastily constructed shelters dotted the landscape, giving the area the appearance of a battle siege. However, this wasn't an invading army but a massive gathering of players and locals still waiting to gain entry into the capital. The long lines stretched as far as the eye could see, with merchants hawking their wares and adventurers swapping tales of their sudden return.
Several soldiers patrolling the upper wall caught sight of him, their eyes widening momentarily before they quickly resumed their posts. They had clearly been briefed by Valandor about the past six high elders, recognizing the figure in the crimson cloak as one of their legendary founders.
From his vantage point atop the wall, Crimson's sharp eyes caught sight of Irina near the western gate. She stood amidst a group of adventurers, their armor bearing the unmistakable insignia of the Heartless Guild. They seemed deep in conversation, with Irina giving them rapid, decisive instructions.
After a brief exchange, the group nodded in unison, their expressions turning resolute. Without further delay, they broke into a run, heading westward, their figures quickly blending into the chaotic mass of returning players and traders on the main road.
After the group vanished from his sight, Crimson's eyes sharpened as he noticed a commotion in the distance. A cluster of returned players had formed a loose circle around two small figures—a pair of young girls, one appearing to be around eleven and the other perhaps seven.
Without a moment's hesitation, he leapt from the wall, the wind rushing past him as he descended. Landing gracefully on the packed earth below, he took off, his speed blurring his form as he closed the distance faster than the eye could track, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow.
Many bystanders are shock because of the shockwave and wind coming out of his run and they are curious as to what's happening also the guards on the upper wall notice Crimson and they immediately on high alert.
As Crimson sprinted toward the scene, a powerful shockwave rippled out from his sudden burst of speed, sending a gust of wind that rustled the nearby tents and whipped the cloaks of the bystanders. Many of the people in the area turned in surprise, their eyes widening as they tried to catch a glimpse of the blur streaking across the ground.
As Crimson closed in, the scene became clearer. Eight players surrounded the two young elf girls, their towering figures casting long shadows over the small, trembling forms. The older elf girl, around 11 years old, had her arms protectively wrapped around her younger sister, who looked no older than 7. Their silver hair and long, pointed ears marked them as elves, a race known for their innate magical talents and long lifespans.
One of the players, a burly man in spiked armor, stepped forward with a wicked grin. He swung his heavy, rune-covered mace casually over his shoulder.
"Come on, little elves," he sneered, his voice dripping with menace. "Just hand over those shiny necklaces of yours, and maybe we'll let you walk away without any broken bones."
The younger elf whimpered, her bright, sapphire eyes filling with tears as she clutched her sister's arm tightly. The older sister, though visibly shaken, raised her chin defiantly.
"W-We have nothing for you," she stammered, her voice trembling but determined. "Leave us alone!"
Another player, a rogue with twin daggers and a scar running down his cheek, let out a mocking laugh.
"Oh, you've got spirit, I'll give you that," he said, stepping closer and twirling his blades. "But spirit won't stop this blades."
Another player, a mage, raised his staff, its crimson gem beginning to glow with dark energy.
"Just give us the amulets," he said, his voice cold. "Or maybe we'll just take them after we turn you to ash."
The circle of players tightened, their cruel smiles growing as the two girls backed away, their small, bare feet shuffling against the rough cobblestones.
But before the first spell could be cast, the ground beneath them trembled slightly. The wind shifted, carrying a low, resonant hum that seemed to pulse with an unseen power. The players froze for a moment, their instincts tingling with the sudden, oppressive presence that closed in on them.
Then, a shadow fell over the scene. Crimson Aegis landed behind the group, his crimson cloak billowing out like the wings of a furious storm. The ground cracked slightly beneath his feet as his powerful aura surged outward, sending a wave of pressure that made the players stagger back in shock.
The rogue with the scar, feeling the sudden chill run down his spine, slowly turned his head, his eyes widening as he recognized the imposing figure behind him.
"Oh... no..." he whispered, his daggers trembling in his grip.
Without a word, Crimson Aegis blurred into motion. His figure became a streak of red as he closed the distance between him and the eight players.
The first to fall was a burly warrior in spiked armor, his mouth still twisted in a cruel grin as Crimson's blade carved a fatal path through his chest. He crumpled to the ground, eyes wide in shock, the light already fading from them.
The rogue beside him, still turning to see what had happened, felt a sharp, icy line cut across his torso before his legs gave out, his daggers clattering uselessly on the cobblestones.
The mage at the back tried to chant a defensive spell, his trembling hands raising his staff in desperation. But Crimson was already upon him, his blade slicing clean through the mage's chest, shattering his staff and splintering his ribcage in a single, fluid motion.
The remaining five players stumbled back, their bravado crumbling into sheer terror. One of them managed to choke out a panicked scream before a crimson arc swept through the group, their bodies collapsing like lifeless dolls onto the blood-stained street.
Silence fell over the scene, broken only by the distant murmur of the shocked crowd, their faces pale as they processed the sudden massacre.
Crimson straightened, the faint metallic scent of blood lingering in the air as his crimson cloak settled behind him. He stepped closer to the two elf girls, their wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto him, their small frames trembling in fear and awe.
"You're safe now," he said, his voice calm but unyielding. "No one will harm you."
As the last echoes of the brief but brutal clash faded, the bodies of the eight players began to dissolve into a shimmering mist. Blue and white orbs, remnants of their essence, slowly drifted upwards, spiraling into the night sky before scattering into nothingness.
Crimson watched this familiar sight with a hardened gaze, his mind calculating the likely outcome. They'll resurrect soon, he thought, but this time it won't be anywhere near the city.
If his memory served him right, when a criminal player died outside the city, the system revived them in the wilderness in areas teeming with high-level monsters, often well beyond their current strength. It was a harsh but fitting punishment, one that made survival a grim challenge for those who preyed on the weak.
Crimson turned his attention back to the two young elves, their wide, tear-filled eyes staring up at him in a mix of awe and fear. Just as two little girls was about to speak, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed against the stone road.
A group of soldiers in polished armor rushed towards them, the moonlight gleaming off their steel plates. At the front was Lieutenant Layla, her long, dark hair flowing behind her as she led her squad with swift, determined strides.
Crimson felt a flicker of surprise. Fate really has a way of putting us on the same path, he thought, a faint smile forming beneath his stern expression.
Lieutenant Layla quickly assessed the situation, her sharp eyes locking onto Crimson. She immediately straightened, placing a fist over her heart in a formal salute.
"Sir Crimson," she greeted with a tone of deep respect, her soldiers following her lead.
Crimson gave a small nod. "These two were being harassed by returning players. I've dealt with the culprits. I'll leave the rest to you."
Layla glanced at the trembling elves, her expression softening. "Understood. I'll make sure they are taken care of and escorted to safety."
Crimson took one last glance at the two little elves, their wide eyes still reflecting both fear and gratitude. Without another word, he turned and began walking back toward the city gates, his cloak fluttering behind him as the soldiers quickly moved to surround and protect the young elves.
As Crimson walked back toward the city gates, the crowd that had gathered began to murmur, their whispers growing louder as they pieced together his identity.
Then, a voice broke through the crowd's chatter, loud and clear.
"That's him!" a tall, muscular player with a scar across his cheek shouted, pointing directly at Crimson. "That's the Butcher of the Battle of Forgotten Wilderness!"
The crowd froze for a moment, eyes widening in shock. The players nearby instinctively took a step back, their faces reflecting a mix of awe and fear. Some of the local residents exchanged nervous glances, recognizing the title as one of the most fearsome in their nation's history.
Crimson paused for a second, his crimson cloak billowing slightly in the wind. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes sharp and unyielding, locking onto the player who had shouted. The sudden, intense pressure of his gaze made the man flinch, quickly lowering his hand as a chill ran down his spine.
Without another word, Crimson continued his walk, the murmurs and whispers trailing behind him like the echoes of his own legendary past.