After a long night immersed in his virtual odyssey, Aiken finally arrived within the bustling heart of Orion, Letheon's crown jewel. The city glowed like a digital dreamscape, alive with possibility, yet even its splendor could not shield him from the creeping weight of fatigue. His eyes, dry and heavy, swept over the radiant cityscape in search of a sanctuary. An inn—modest, warm, and quiet—appeared like a beacon through the haze. With a final sigh, Aiken logged out, the vibrant world dissolving around him like mist retreating at dawn.
Nearly six hours had passed in that relentless pursuit. Six hours of navigating frosted battlefields, micromanaging his minions, and dragging victory from the jaws of exhaustion. In the real world, his body slumped in the glow of the screen, surrounded by the familiar clutter of his small room. The quiet chaos—cold coffee, tangled wires, notebooks bearing half-sketched maps—stood in quiet testament to a player whose greatest adversary was, perhaps, his own sense of direction. Aiken had gotten lost more times on the way to school than he had in the entire labyrinthine realm of Letheon.
And yet, as morning light slipped through his curtains, he emerged from the depths of virtual conquest not as a disheveled wreck, but strangely—restored. There was something invigorating in the grind, the solitary triumphs, the small victories earned with grit and skill. As he moved through his morning routine, pulling on his uniform and brushing back his sleep-tousled hair, a quiet but unmistakable energy thrummed beneath his skin.
Then, without warning—he spoke.
"Good morning. ^_^"
The words were light. Almost playful. They floated into the quiet space like birdsong through an open window.
Henry, seated at the dining table and halfway through his toast, froze mid-bite. His brain stuttered, rebooting as it tried to match the cheerful chirp with the usually silent and brooding presence of Aiken. For a moment, the illusion wavered—had he imagined it? Was it a trick of too little sleep or too much screen time?
He blinked, stared, and watched as Aiken calmly buttered a slice of toast, utterly unfazed.
Had the world tilted on its axis?
Or was it just a rare crack in the shell?
Henry dismissed the thought with a shake of his head, convincing himself it was nothing more than a glitch in perception.
As the seconds ticked by, the shock slowly dissolved into bemused acceptance. Henry's brow relaxed, and he gave his head a small, almost imperceptible shake, as though brushing off the remnants of a particularly vivid daydream.
"Ey, Aiken… looking gloomy as always," he muttered, the familiar tease sliding off his tongue out of habit. But the words lacked their usual bite. His voice faltered halfway, curiosity peeking through the cracks of his practiced nonchalance. A faint smile tugged at his lips, unbidden but irrepressible.
Something had shifted.
That brief flicker of warmth from Aiken—a simple "Good morning ^_^"—still echoed in Henry's mind. It was such a small thing, and yet it lingered, like the last note of a song you didn't realize you loved until it ended. It unsettled him in the gentlest way.
For a moment, Henry debated whether to say something more, to poke a little, to ask outright. But then he saw Aiken, already halfway through his toast, expression unreadable once again, cloaked in his usual silence like nothing had ever happened.
Henry exhaled quietly. A shrug of the shoulders, a quick flick of the hand—his trademark gesture for brushing off life's minor mysteries.
"Good morning ^3^," he repeated with a mock cheeriness, mirroring Aiken's earlier words. His tone was casual, almost lazy, but beneath it lay something else—a flicker of intrigue, tucked neatly behind his smirk.
And just like that, the rhythm of their mornings resumed. The clink of mugs, the soft shuffle of chairs, the occasional shared glance—ordinary once more, but now shaded with something unspoken. A crack in routine. A note of curiosity.
Something was changing.
***
The school day unfolded with its usual rhythm, a steady cadence of bells, lectures, and idle chatter. Familiar. Predictable. But the illusion of calm shattered abruptly when Scarface—Letheon High's notoriously stern math professor—strode into the classroom with an all-too-familiar glint in his eye.
Without preamble, he dropped a thick stack of papers onto his desk with a thud that echoed ominously.
"A surprise test," he announced, his gravelly voice slicing through the stillness like a guillotine. "Five pages. Begin."
A wave of disbelief rippled through the classroom.
Groans. Whispers. Panic.
Scarface had struck again.
As the test booklets made their rounds, dread settled like fog over the students. Pens hovered nervously above paper. Silence reigned—tense, suffocating. But amid the stunned quiet, something shifted.
Aiken's pen moved.
Not with hesitation, but with a fluid, focused grace that caught the eye of those around him. Line after line, number after number—his answers flowed, precise and swift, like clockwork. Unthinking, unflinching.
He didn't notice the sideways glances. The growing stillness. The subtle tilt of Henry's head as he leaned in with a look that read: Wait… what's gotten into him?
Aiken was elsewhere. In his mind, equations morphed into battle patterns. Fractions became formations. Each problem was a step closer to the one thing that mattered today: his duel with Sco.
The anticipation coursed through him like electricity, sharpening every thought, quickening every movement. His restlessness, barely contained, became fuel. Even he didn't realize the transformation taking root—how his body obeyed instinctively, each calculation an echo of his gamer's rhythm.
Minutes passed in reverent silence. Then—
Clack.
Aiken's test hit Scarface's desk with crisp finality.
Heads turned. Five pages, filled. Not scribbled or rushed, but completed with deliberate confidence. A few students blinked, stunned. Henry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Scarface looked up, his expression unreadable beneath the ever-present scar slashing across his cheek. He accepted the paper with a curt nod, eyes briefly scanning Aiken's face, as if searching for the cause of this uncharacteristic display.
But Aiken had already turned, slipping back into his seat, gaze distant, legs bouncing with restrained energy.
The test was over.
But the real battle had yet to begin.
His resolve unwavering, Aiken rose from his seat. Each step he took toward the door was deliberate, a silent declaration that he had nothing more to prove—at least, not here. His mind had already left the classroom, hurtling toward the digital battlefield that awaited.
But then—
"Where do you think you're going?"
Scarface's voice cut through the tension like a whipcrack, halting Aiken mid-stride.
All eyes turned.
Aiken paused but didn't turn. The hush that fell over the room was immediate, suffocating. He knew the rules. Leaving before time was up—especially in Scarface's domain—was nothing short of sacrilege.
The question hung in the air, weighty and expectant.
Yet Aiken didn't flinch.
He inhaled, slow and even, and responded in a voice that was both calm and edged with finality.
"Then check it. Right here. Right now."
Only then did he glance back, his hand adjusting the thick glasses that had slipped slightly down his nose. The gesture was subtle, but something about it carried power—an unconscious tic made suddenly iconic.
A smirk ghosted across his lips, not arrogant, but sure. The kind of smirk that didn't beg for approval but dared disbelief. It was the look of someone who knew.
Murmurs rippled through the classroom like aftershocks.
Was that really Aiken?
Did he just challenge Scarface?
Even the slack-jawed students, still struggling through page two, straightened up in stunned silence.
Only Henry remained calm, arms folded as he leaned back in his chair with a grin tugging at his lips. He had seen it coming—not the words, maybe, but the spark. The shift. The version of Aiken that Letheon brought out when no one was watching.
Scarface's eyes narrowed, gaze flicking down to the test now resting on his desk like a gauntlet thrown.
He said nothing. Not yet.
But in that moment, something shifted in the room.
Aiken wasn't just the quiet kid anymore. Not just a face behind foggy lenses.
He was a storm coming into focus.
Scarface, ever the iron-fisted arbiter of mathematical justice, didn't let the challenge pass lightly. His lips curled into a tight, bitter line as he leaned forward, one hand flattening over Aiken's paper.
"Very well," he sneered, the words laced with a vindictive gleam. "But if you scored seventy-five percent or lower, you're staying after class. We'll go over every single answer. Together."
A hush fell again, this time colder, heavier. It was no longer just about a surprise test—it was a showdown. A petty power struggle wrapped in chalk dust and red ink.
Somewhere in the room, a pen dropped.
And then the correction began.
Scarface's eyes flicked from question to answer, red pen tapping lightly as he scoured Aiken's work for flaws. His face, once smug and sure, began to cloud. His pen hovered longer over each problem, the smirk draining from his features with every check mark. One page. Two. Three. Four. Five.
A perfect rhythm. Like clockwork. Precise. Unshakable.
And then came the pause.
Scarface's brow furrowed, suspicion sparking behind his glasses. He looked up sharply, scanning the classroom—for Aiken. Ready to pounce, ready to accuse. But—
The chair was empty.
Gone.
Aiken had already left.
All that remained was the quiet creak of a swaying door, still not quite settled in its frame, and a paper that bore no flaws—just quiet defiance in ink and logic.
Scarface's hand clenched around the red pen, the plastic groaning under pressure. But there was no mistake to expose. No grounds to drag the boy back. Only the sting of being outmaneuvered by a student who hadn't just passed a test—
He'd beaten it.
The students around him said nothing, but something unspoken passed through the room—a quiet vindication. A message had been sent.
And Aiken?
By now, he was already slipping back into another world—one of danger, glory, and a rival named Sco.
Scarface's jaw clenched, his eyes seething with a fury that shimmered just beneath the surface. The silence that followed Aiken's exit was deafening, punctuated only by the strained creak of his leather gloves as his fists clenched. The papers on his desk fluttered in a draftless room. His pride—no, his authority—had been publicly tested. And worse, left unanswered.
The classroom, still reeling, seemed to hold its collective breath.
Even the bravest students dared not meet his gaze.
***
Outside, Aiken moved like a man possessed. The adrenaline of his declaration still pulsed through his limbs. Every footstep was fueled by a singular thought: Log back in. The duel was tonight. And after the way he'd finished the test—with such uncanny ease—it felt like the stars were aligning.
But the stars had other plans.
He weaved through crowds, breath fogging the glass of his lenses. When he finally reached the bus station, his chest rose and fell in ragged rhythm. He checked the time: 16:34. Just in time.
The bus idled before him, a behemoth of steel and stillness.
And then—
A blinding screech.
A roar of chaos.
A truck, engine howling like a beast unchained, barreled toward the intersection—
Too fast. Too late.
CRASH.
Metal screamed against metal.
Glass shattered like brittle ice.
The front of the bus crumpled inward, folding like a paper model in a child's careless hand.
Bodies were flung. Horns blared. Screams rang out.
Aiken stood frozen.
His ears rang with silence. Not the absence of sound, but the distortion of it—a numbing, thudding quiet that buried everything beneath shock.
Time fractured.
Glass exploded outward like jagged confetti, and the world lurched into chaos.
Aiken was thrown backward by the shockwave, his body hitting the pavement with a thud that left the air torn from his lungs. For a moment, all he could hear was a high-pitched ringing. Then—distant screams. The distant hiss of a ruptured engine. And something heavier… closer. The metallic groan of the truck door creaking open.
His vision flickered at the edges, reality pulling at the seams.
Blood?
No. Not his. Just noise. Just adrenaline.
His breath came in ragged gasps, and as he tried to push himself upright, a strange numbness overtook him—starting from his fingertips, crawling its way up his limbs, like static swallowing a screen.
Then came the flicker.
The world bent.
Skewed.
Like something was peeling it back.
The shattered glass around him seemed to glitch, pixels jittering at the corners of his vision. The world should have spun into unconsciousness—but instead, it dissolved.
And Aiken fell—
But not onto cold pavement.
He fell through code.
Through darkness lit by trailing symbols, cascading algorithms and geometric pulses of light.
And then—
Solid ground.
Not asphalt.
Stone.
Carved. Weathered. Ancient.
He was standing—not lying—beneath a blood-orange sky in a world unmistakably not Earth.
A low chime rang out. Familiar.
Then, hovering in front of him in ornate letters:
WELCOME BACK TO LETHEON, PLAYER: AIKEN
> ALERT: UNREGISTERED ENTRY DETECTED
> CONNECTING TO SYSTEM CORE...
> DUEL COUNTDOWN INITIATED – SCO CHALLENGE BEGINS IN: 00:19:57
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
THE CURRENT RANKING
Top 12 Guilds
12 • Typho | Guild Leader: Koi
A guild known for its resilience and adaptability, led by the capable Koi.
11 • Ganymede | Guild Leader: Rius
Ganymede, a guild that values strategic prowess and camaraderie, under the guidance of Rius.
10 • Amalth | Guild Leader: Rhion
Amalth, a guild renowned for its innovation and creativity, helmed by the visionary Rhion.
09 • Pegasus | Guild Leader: Stallion
Pegasus, a guild of swift and relentless players, united under the leadership of Stallion.
08 • Antares | Guild Leader: Madouri
Antares, led by the enigmatic Madouri, known as Sco, wields formidable strength and mystery.
07 • Atlanta | Guild Leader: Theo
Atlanta, a guild that values unity and harmony, flourishes under the wise leadership of Theo.
06 • Astraea | Guild Leader: Ceres
Astraea, guided by Ceres, known as Lustitia, strikes a balance between justice and prowess.
05 • Guise | Guild Leader: Nemean
Guise, a guild embodying courage and valor, rallies under the leadership of the fierce Nemean.
04 • Hydra | Guild Leader: Cancri
Hydra, a guild with a multi-faceted approach, thrives under the leadership of the versatile Cancri.
03 • Deuce | Guild Leader: Castor
Deuce, a guild known for adaptability and resourcefulness, follows the lead of Castor.
02 • Gliese | Guild Leader: Aleph
Gliese, a guild of precision and intellect, stands strong under the guidance of Aleph.
01 • Colchis | Guild Leader: Ram
Colchis, the top-ranking guild, is spearheaded by the formidable leader, Ram.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Top 15 Players
15 • Myrpho
Myrpho, a skilled player with strategic acumen, holds a crucial position in the top 15.
14 • Koi
Koi, a leader of Typho, is a formidable presence in both leadership and gameplay.
13 • Cziell<(???)
Cziell, known for his swift ascent and unyielding ambition, commands attention.
12 • Sco [Madouri]<(...)
Sco, or Madouri, a leader shrouded in mystery and strength, occupies a significant rank.
11 • Rius
Rius, a master of strategy, secures a noteworthy place among the top 15 players.
10 • Theo
Theo, a charismatic and insightful player, stands tall in the elite ranks.
09 • Zach
Zach, a player of tenacity and skill, commands respect within the top 15.
08 • Rhion
Rhion, a visionary leader of Amalth, shapes the guild's legacy within the ranks.
07 • Stallion
Stallion's relentless pursuit of excellence places him prominently in the top 15.
06 • Nemean<(hi!)
Nemean, a courageous leader of Guise, extends a friendly greeting from his strong position.
05 • Lustitia [Ceres]
Lustitia, known as Ceres, balances justice and strength within the top 15.
04 • Castor
Castor's adaptability and resourcefulness solidify his place in the esteemed top 15.
03 • Cancri
Cancri's multifaceted approach ensures a significant presence among the top 15.
02 • Aleph
Aleph's precision and intellect grant him a deserving spot near the pinnacle of the top 15.
01 • Ram
Ram, a formidable leader of Colchis, claims the topmost position with mastery and might.