The Dead Man's Gorge was silent. Save for the whistling of the wind through the jagged rocks.
Minutes ago, this place had been a slaughterhouse. Now a graveyard of humiliation. The elite members of the Golden Lion Guild had fled. Naked and terrified. Leaving behind a mountain of high-tier equipment that glittered mockingly in the gloom.
Sebastian stood amidst the loot. His expression indifferent. He didn't look like a hero who'd just defied a fifty-man raid group. Looked like a bored janitor cleaning up a mess.
Beside him, Valerie was still trembling. Not from the cold. Not from fear of the enemies. The aftershock of witnessing absolute power. She looked at the crater left by the [Gravity Well]. Then at the pile of gear worth tens of thousands of real-world credits.
"You..." Valerie swallowed hard. Gripping her new staff to steady her shaking hands. "You just declared war on one of the biggest financial groups in the server. Baron_K isn't just a gamer. He has backing from the Iron-Blood Consortium."
Sebastian bent down. Picked up a [Ring of Fortitude] from the pile. He inspected it for a second—Rare grade, +10 Vitality—tossed it into his inventory as if it were a pebble.
"War requires two sides capable of fighting," Sebastian said. His voice flat. "This isn't a war. It's pest control."
He turned to Valerie. His eyes, flecked with the golden light of the [Eye of the Void God], bore into hers.
"Do not mistake their money for power, Valerie. In the old world, money bought influence. In this world? Only strength buys survival. Baron_K thinks he's playing a game. I am building an ark."
Valerie fell silent. She sensed the weight behind his words. Not the arrogance of a teenager. The heavy, suffocating certainty of a general who'd seen the end of the world.
Sebastian finished sweeping the loot. His [Ring of Space] absorbed hundreds of items instantly. He now held enough capital to equip a small army.
"Let's move," Sebastian commanded. "The tutorial phase is ending."
As if on cue, the sky above the gorge began to change.
The perpetual grey clouds of the Dead Man's Gorge turned a violent, bruising purple. The ambient mana in the air spiked. Causing the hairs on Valerie's arms to stand up. A low, resonant hum vibrated through the ground. Shaking dust loose from the canyon walls.
Then the text appeared.
Not a local notification. Not a region alert. A World Announcement. Emblazoned across the retina of every single player logged into The Ethereal Plane.
[Ding!]
══════════════════════════════════════
[ WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT ]
The mana density of the world has reached the First Threshold.
The seals on the Ancient Beasts are breaking.
[Event]: The First Calamity.
[Boss]: The Doom-Howl Wolf (World Boss).
[Location]: The Plains of Despair (Coordinates: 450, 990).
[Time until Spawn]: 1 Hour.
[Rewards]:
Legendary Equipment Box x1.
50,000 Gold Coins.
+1000 Global Fame.
[Guild Creation Token (Unique)].
══════════════════════════════════════
The message pulsed three times. Burning itself into the collective consciousness of the player base.
Valerie gasped. Reading the last line of the rewards.
"A Guild Token..." she whispered. "The first one on the server."
In The Ethereal Plane, creating a guild wasn't as simple as paying a fee. You needed a token dropped by a boss of Lord Tier or higher. The first guild to be established would gain massive benefits: permanent tax reduction in NPC cities, a global fame boost, the ability to claim territory.
For the mega-corporations and professional gaming houses investing billions into this game, that token was priceless. The key to early-game dominance.
For Sebastian though, it meant something else entirely.
"The Foundation," Sebastian murmured.
He didn't want a guild for tax breaks. He needed the token to establish a "Sanctuary."
In his previous life, during the third year of the apocalypse, the system introduced the Sanctuary mechanic—safe zones that could resist the corruption of the Void gods. To build one, you needed a Guild Core level 5.
If he secured the token now, he could start building the Sanctuary immediately. Fortify it. Layer it with forbidden spells. Create a fortress that would serve as the last bastion for humanity when the real monsters started spawning in New York, Tokyo, London.
"We need that token," Sebastian said. His tone leaving no room for argument.
Valerie looked at the map. "The Plains of Despair... that's near the starter villages. Open ground. Every major power will be there. The Crimson Skull, the Golden Lion, my father's guild... everyone."
She looked at Sebastian with worry.
"Even you can't fight ten thousand players at once, Zero. If we go there, we are walking into a meat grinder."
Sebastian began to walk toward the exit of the gorge. The wind whipped his tattered Drifter rags around him. He didn't look back.
"They are fighting for a flag to wave," Sebastian said coldly. "I am fighting for the right to exist. Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? It doesn't matter."
He opened his status panel as he walked.
[Available SP: ∞]
He navigated to his skill tree. He needed speed. Flight.
[Skill Tree: Aeromancy]
[Basic Levitation (Tier 1)] -> [Evolution Available].
He poured points into it. The numbers blurred.
[Ding! Levitation evolved to... Flight.]
[Ding! Flight evolved to... High-Speed Aerial Maneuver.]
[Ding! Skill Evolution Complete.]
[New Skill: Sky Walk (Tier 4)]
[Effect: Tread upon the air as if it were solid ground. Movement Speed +500% while airborne.]
Sebastian felt the change instantly. The gravity shackles on his body loosened.
"Valerie," he called out without stopping. "Keep up. If you lag behind, the wolves—human or otherwise—will eat you."
Valerie gritted her teeth. She grabbed a stamina potion from her inventory. Downed it.
"I'm coming," she said. Running after him.
The race was on.
Across the server, the world was in upheaval. In the main cities of Ironhold, Stormwind, Silver-City, players were abandoning their quests. Blacksmiths dropped their hammers. Merchants closed their stalls.
"World Boss! Did you see the loot table?"
"Legendary gear! In the first week!"
"Forget the gear, the Token is worth millions of credits!"
Rivers of players flowed out of the city gates. Converging like a plague of locusts toward the Plains of Despair.
For the average player, this was an exciting event. A chance to be part of history.
For the Guild Masters, this was a business transaction. A hostile takeover.
For Sebastian though, walking through the shadows of the gorge with eyes that had seen the end of time, this was simply the first step of the reconstruction.
He clenched his fist. The sensation of power was intoxicating. The hunger in his real-world body was a constant reminder though.
Time is short, he thought. Get the token. Build the Sanctuary. Survive.
"Let them gather," Sebastian whispered to the wind. "The more of them there are, the more witnesses I'll have when I kill a god."