I sprint toward the door, my heart pounding as the mansion begins to tremble. A deafening bang echoes through the air—the raiders are breaking down the house! I burst outside, shouting at the top of my lungs.

"Tiffany!"

In the chaos, I spot a soldier aiding a wounded comrade. Without hesitation, I rush over.

"Do you know if Tiffany is safe?" I ask, desperation clear in my voice.

"Yes," he replies quickly, "she and her parents fled to the backyard with guards."

Relief washes over me. "Thank you!" I say, snatching the wounded soldier’s sword and taking off before he can protest. Behind me, I hear him yelling to run away, but I don’t stop.

What am I doing? Why am I running toward danger instead of away from it? Why risk my life for someone I barely know? The questions flood my mind, but with each one comes clarity.

She helped me—a complete stranger. She and her family welcomed me when they didn’t have to. Now, it’s my turn to repay the kindness. I can’t just leave them to die. Images of Tiffany’s warm smile flash in my mind, kind and genuine. I grip the sword tighter. I’ll protect that smile. I’m coming, Tiffany!

The hallways stretch endlessly, but I finally reach the backyard. Exhausted, I use the sword as a crutch, my breath ragged. Even here, I can’t escape my lack of stamina—not even in this game.

"Tiffany!" I call out, my voice strained.

Seconds pass before I hear a faint reply. My heart leaps as I realize it’s her voice. But between us lies another obstacle: a forest thick with smoke and strewn with lifeless bodies. Flames rage all around—on fields, campsites, and the mansion itself. Yet the forest remains untouched, eerie and defiant.

Through the trees, I discover a hidden structure. There, I see Tiffany, her parents, and several guards.

"There you are!" Tiffany exclaims, relief and worry mingling in her tone.

I start toward her, but before I can reach her, shadowy figures descend from the sky, landing silently atop the building. The guards tense, some stepping protectively in front of Tiffany’s family.

"Protect the family at all costs!" a soldier shouts.

One of the figures raises a hand. A spark ignites at his fingertips, quickly forming a blazing fireball.

"Fireball!" he roars, launching it.

The fireball grows larger, feeding on the oxygen, before slamming into the guards. The explosion is catastrophic, vaporizing them in an instant. As the flames subside, the figures step into the light—seven of them.

The one who cast the fireball catches my attention immediately. He looks eerily like me but with red tones and a sleek, robotic design. His chest and forearm armor gleam, a cape billows behind him, and his hat, triangular in shape, contrasts sharply with my own rounded one. His face is complete with a mouth and piercing eyes, setting him apart even more.

I grip my sword, but my hands tremble. Fear grips me as more guards rush in, only to be met with brutal efficiency. A girl in a black kimono descends from the roof, landing gracefully. She wields a katana with a dark, intricate design.

The guards charge, but she’s faster. She vanishes, reappears, and they collapse, blood staining the earth. The sight freezes me in place. She turns her gaze toward me, and for the first time, I feel true terror.

A hand rests on my shoulder, breaking my trance. It’s GreekLord21. His expression is calm but determined.

"Take my mistress and her family out of here, Lance," he says firmly.

His courage earns my respect, but I shake my head. "Are you kidding? We’re in this together."

He smirks. "You’re full of surprises. Fine, let’s fight together."

I turn to Tiffany. "When we charge, you and your family run into the woods!" I shout.

From the rooftop, a faint voice responds. "That voice…"

Before I can process it, the girl with the katana charges.

"Not gonna happen," she sneers.

GreekLord21 and I let out a battle cry, surging forward. She moves like lightning. I swing my sword with all my might, but she’s gone. A scream pierces the air—GreekLord21’s. I turn to see him collapse, blood pouring from a wound I didn’t even see her deliver.

My heart races. I clutch my sword, but my knees buckle. "I’m useless," I whisper, dropping to the ground.

She approaches me, her katana dripping with blood.

"Just kill me," I mutter.

She looks down at me, her expression cold. "You’re not a target." With that, she turns and races after Tiffany’s family.

I rise to my feet, determined, even as chaos unfolds around me. My gaze locks on the katana-wielding girl as she corners the family. Without hesitation, she strikes down the father, then turns her attention to the mother. My heart races—I'm too far away to intervene in time.

Tiffany, the youngest, is the last in her sights.

"AHHHHHHH!" I hurl my sword with all my might.

The attacker charges Tiffany, her katana poised to strike. Just as she swings, my blade collides with hers, knocking the weapon from her grip.

"Bingo!" I exclaim, a surge of relief washing over me. "Not a target, my ass! I may be weak, but my aiming skills from FPS games are second to none!"

Admittedly, I was aiming for her, but disarming her works just as well.

The attacker glares at me, venom in her voice. "You're not a target, but if you're going to defend this demon, then you're no better than them."

"Demon?" I question, confused, but she wastes no time.

In a flash, her katana returns to her hand. I glance at the ground; my sword remains where it fell. She retrieved hers with an inhuman speed. Damn it. I’ve bought some time, but now it’s my neck on the line.

I sigh, steady myself, and take a fighting stance. "Bring it..."

She narrows her eyes and lunges. Time seems to slow. This is it—now or never! I throw a punch with everything I’ve got.

My fist connects—not with her, but with the red-clad fire-wielder, who appears between us in an instant. One arm blocks my punch, the other stops her katana with just his fingers.

"What are you doing, Noobmaster?" she demands, lowering her weapon.

His voice, familiar and loaded with recognition, makes my heart stop.

"Hector...?"

I stare at him, my shock mirrored in his expression.

"Rodrick? Is that you!?"

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"Dude! How’s it hanging?"

Our tension dissolves as we break into our signature bro handshake. The girl in black watches us with a full-on "bruh" expression.

Rodrick shouts over his shoulder, "Hey Ivan, get over here!"

From atop a nearby building, another figure drops down—a sleek, blue-armored version of us with bug-like eyes and a shorter hat design.

"Hello, Hector," Ivan greets, as calm as ever.

"Ay, Ivan! Good to see you!" I grin, pulling him into another elaborate handshake.

The girl in black, dragging Tiffany by the hair, approaches with a scowl. More figures emerge from the forest—three in total.

“No survivors,” one says coldly.

Tiffany struggles in the girl’s grip. "Damn you, Endeavors!" she shrieks, her voice venomous and demonic.

Rodrick smiles and gestures to the group. "Let me introduce you to my comrades."

He points to each of them in turn.

"This is Brandon."

The large man steps forward with a nod and a warm grin, his silent demeanor radiating calm. Brandon is broad and chubby, with brown skin and a man bun. His expression is steady, his squinty eyes quietly observant. The massive two-handed hammer slung over his shoulder looks as though it weighs a hundred pounds, yet he carries it effortlessly.

"Hey," he says softly, the single word brimming with quiet cheer.

Rodrick moves on. "And this is Hattori."

"Yo, what’s good!" Hattori flashes a wide grin and gives me a casual wave.

He’s clad in a violet ninja outfit, sleek and practical, with a strange mechanical device strapped to his hand. His lean, wiry frame and relaxed posture make him seem almost carefree, but there’s an alertness in his robotic eyes that hints at sharp reflexes.

"Next up, Strider," Rodrick says with a flourish.

Strider steps forward with a salute, his glowing yellow eyes flashing. "Yours truly," he says, his voice dripping with confidence.

Towering and broad-shouldered, Strider is fully clad in dazzling dragon-themed armor, predominantly white with hints of black at the joints. His scythe is enormous, its blue blade glinting ominously against the light.

"No need to be intimidated," he adds with a smirk. "But, uh, no shame if you are."

Rodrick chuckles and gestures to Elaine. "This is Elaine. Careful—she bites."

Elaine shoots him a glare sharp enough to pierce steel and promptly punches him in the gut. "Knock it off," she mutters, still gripping Tiffany by the hair.

Elaine is pale, with dark purple eyes and long black hair. Her black kimono sways as she moves, the katana at her hip adding to her air of precision and menace. Unlike the others, she doesn’t bother with pleasantries, her silence colder than ice.

Rodrick rubs his stomach with a laugh. "Yeah, okay, I deserved that."

Suddenly, a thud echoes through the clearing—a deliberate step or perhaps the impact of a landing. I turn toward the sound as a figure emerges from the shadows.

"There she is. Claire."

"Shut it, jackass," the girl snaps, her tone razor-sharp.

Claire strides into view, her gaze cutting through the air like a blade. My breath catches. Her hair is a stunning mix of light pink and red, a fiery halo framing her face. Those piercing blue eyes could freeze the ocean, and her outfit—a fantasy-style cloak, a white skirt, black stockings, and red accents—completes her striking presence.

She spares me a glance, her expression cool and disinterested, before looking away. My heart sinks, crushed under her icy indifference.

Rodrick shrugs. “Anyways, Lance, we are the Seven Endeavors," Rodrick says, his voice filled with pride. It's a well-earned pride, considering what this group is capable of. If the rest are anything like Elaine—or stronger—these are not people to trifle with.

Elaine shoves Tiffany forward, her movements precise and cold.

"Your orders," she states flatly, her voice devoid of any emotion.

Rodrick catches me glancing at Tiffany, my expression conflicted.

"I know how you feel, Lance," he says, his tone softening slightly. But then, his face hardens. "You need to see this first."

He gestures for me to follow, his voice heavy with a seriousness that demands attention. "Come. I’ll leave it to you to decide her fate, but you need to know the truth."

I nod, swallowing hard. "Okay. Thank you, Rodrick."

As we walk toward a looming building, I notice something off about Rodrick—his usual energy seems dampened, his face shadowed with a quiet sadness.

We arrive at the structure, its two massive doors standing like grim sentinels before us. Rodrick pauses, glancing back at me one last time.

"You ready?" he asks.

I nod again. "Yes."

Before I can steel myself further, Tiffany's voice cuts through the air, desperate and trembling.

"Don’t open those doors!" she cries.

Rodrick ignores her, raising a boot and kicking the doors open with a resounding crash. They swing wide, revealing a dark abyss within.

Then the stench hits me—a rancid, gut-wrenching odor that nearly makes me collapse on the spot. I gag, covering my nose.

"What is that?!" I manage to choke out.

Rodrick, his jaw tight, points ahead. "Look."

My gaze follows his gesture, and my stomach twists in horror. The room is lined with cages, each filled with people. They are emaciated, their limbs skeletal, their eyes hollow and lifeless. The oppressive silence of the room is broken only by faint, uneven breaths.

This... this is inhumane. My legs falter, and I collapse, my entire body trembling.

Rodrick's voice is low, edged with fury. "This family built their fortune by selling slaves to the highest bidder."

I glance back at Tiffany, my thoughts spinning out of control. Did she... did she know about this?

"What about Tiffany?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rodrick’s expression darkens further. "She’s the worst of them all. She manipulated her family to follow her whims. She tortures these people for fun, treats them as nothing more than insects to crush underfoot." His fists clench at his sides, the anger radiating from him palpable.

I remain silent, unable to process it all.

Rodrick continues, his voice now laced with bitterness. "We know this because one of their victims escaped and told us everything. She endured hell to make it to the capital of Weafdom."

He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Let’s go back."

I nod weakly, allowing him to guide me back to the group.

When we arrive, my gaze locks on Tiffany, who stares back at me, her eyes wide and tear-filled.

Rodrick gives Elaine a subtle signal. She releases her grip on Tiffany, who stumbles forward, right in front of me.

"Lance," Rodrick says quietly. "It’s your choice."

Tiffany’s voice trembles, her words spilling out in a frantic rush.

"Don’t listen to them, Lance! I didn’t know! My parents told me to stay out of that place—it’s dangerous! I swear, I was only trying to protect you!" Tears stream down her face, her voice cracking with desperation.

My hands shake, my fists clenching tighter as her words wash over me.

Ivan steps forward, his voice cold and deliberate. "Unlucky for you, we have a witness."

At his signal, a figure steps out from the shadows. A girl in black robes. The moment her eyes land on Tiffany, her expression contorts with terror and rage.

"It’s her!" she cries, her voice raw with pain. "She’s the one who made my life a living hell!" Tears pour down her face as she collapses, her body shaking with sobs.

Rodrick turns to Tiffany, his expression unreadable but firm.

Tiffany’s tears vanish in an instant, replaced by an enraged sneer.

"How dare you come back here!" she spits at the girl.

Ivan kneels beside the trembling witness. His voice softens. "Can you tell us what happened?"

Through her sobs, the girl recounts her nightmare. "I... I was new... to this game," she stammers, her words broken by sobs. "She... she offered me a place to stay... and when I fell asleep... I woke up in a cage."

As her words sink in, something clicks in my mind. My own room—it had no lock.

Ivan notices my sudden realization. "Sounds familiar, Lance?"

I nod, the weight of betrayal crashing down on me. My hands stop trembling. My decision is made.

Tiffany’s voice cuts through, sickly sweet and mocking. "Be a hero, Lance. Save me from these monsters."

I turn away, my back to her.

"You ungrateful bastard!" she screams, her voice venomous. "After everything I’ve done for you, THIS is how you repay me?!"

I don’t respond.

A sudden movement behind me—Tiffany lunges, a hidden knife glinting in her hand.

"Fireball."

Rodrick’s spell ignites the air, flames engulfing Tiffany before she can reach me. Her screams are brief, her body reduced to ash.

"Not on my watch," Rodrick says grimly, lowering his hand.

The nightmare ends, but the images of the cages and the broken people linger in my mind. With the battle over and the slaves freed, my body finally gives out. As I collapse, darkness creeping in, I take solace in knowing my friends will watch over me.