Player-run areas had a certain charm, if you could call it that. They were cobbled together in ruins and wastelands, a mix of shoddy ingenuity and opportunism. Inns with lumpy beds, overpriced shops selling subpar potions, and taverns filled with players scheming or flexing their gear. It was as if everyone here had mastered the art of extracting every last coin from desperate adventurers like me.

This settlement was no different. Built in a decayed city, it had a strange air about it—a creeping sense of unease I couldn’t shake. Maybe it was paranoia from the dungeon ordeal, or maybe the place itself carried an unseen threat. Either way, I didn’t dwell on it. Fear wasn’t a luxury I had time for.

After what felt like an eternity, my log-out button finally reappeared. Relief washed over me as I stepped into a dimly lit tavern, found an empty table, and logged out.

When I opened my eyes, the real world hit me like a freight train. My body was weak, my head throbbed, and my stomach growled angrily. It was no wonder—I’d neglected myself for four straight days. The disorientation from being immersed in VR for so long made me stagger to the bathroom, where I barely reached the sink before vomiting.

Leaning on the counter, I stared at my pale, hollow-eyed reflection. My EternaLink had been hacked. Dozens of texts from Mira confirmed my fears. The Spectre wasn’t just an in-game menace; it had manipulated my connection, trapping me in the game against my will.

My phone buzzed, breaking my spiral of thoughts. It was Mira.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was laced with concern.

“Barely,” I croaked, rubbing my temple. “I just need food and water.”

She didn’t sound convinced. “There’ve been three deaths linked to Age of Eternity. The devs announced an emergency patch, and the game’s going offline for a whole week.”

I froze. Deaths? That didn’t make sense. Age of Eternity wasn’t like other full-dive games where mistakes could lead to lethal accidents.

“What do you mean, deaths? How does that happen?”

“No details yet, but it’s serious enough that the servers are shutting down. What actually happened to you?”

I took a deep breath, the memories of the past few days swirling in my mind. “I went into the Lower Dungeon alone, like I planned. It was fine until I hit floor five. Then the Spectre showed up. It glitched me straight to floor ten—a boss level. No warning, no prep. I had to fight the Black Samurai, and… I beat him, but it was brutal.”

There was silence on the other end before she spoke again. “And you’re okay now?”

“My head’s pounding, my body feels like crap, but yeah. I’m alive.”

“You need to rest. And eat. I’ll come over in the morning with breakfast, okay?”

I hesitated. Mira and I had history, more than most gaming partners. Back during the Royale Online days, we weren’t just teammates—we’d been a couple. We gamed together, lived together, until everything fell apart. When Blazer and his followers wrecked my reputation and drove me out of the game, it led to drama that ended with Mira moving out and us breaking up.

Despite it all, Mira had always been a constant. She understood me in a way few others could.

“Thanks,” I muttered, feeling oddly vulnerable.

“Get some sleep,” she said firmly.

Morning came with a loud knock on the door. Still groggy, I stumbled to answer it. Mira stood there holding a tray of food—an egg sandwich, miso soup, and a tall can of iced coffee.

“Eat up,” she said as she brushed past me, setting the tray on my cluttered table. Mira hadn’t changed much. She still had the same magnetic energy that drew people to her, but beneath her polished surface, she was as ruthless as any top-tier gamer.

I dug into the food without hesitation. It was exactly what I needed, grounding me after the chaos of the past few days. Mira leaned back in her chair, watching me with a smirk.

“With Age of Eternity down for a week, a lot of players are heading back to Royale Online,” she said.

I couldn’t help but grin. “Is my name still at the top?”

She rolled her eyes. “The devs removed you from the Top 20 Builders, but they put up a statue of you in Gathering City. It actually looks decent.”

I laughed. Back in those days, I’d been called the Master of the Meta. I’d reshaped the competitive scene, turning overlooked classes into powerhouses. My builds were legendary, and I even worked with the devs to refine the game’s balance. Sure, I’d been arrogant about it, but I’d earned that arrogance.

But those days were long gone, and despite the nostalgia, I wasn’t sure if revisiting Royale Online was the right move. Then again, with Age of Eternity offline and the rest of the player base flocking back to Royale, maybe it was worth a look.

“I might check it out,” I said between bites. “Just to see if I can still kick some ass.”

Mira grinned. “You better. The game’s changed a lot, but I’d pay to see you wipe the floor with the new meta players.”

For now, though, Royale Online could wait. I had breakfast, a rare moment of peace, and Mira’s company. After everything that had happened, it was enough.

I scoured the forums for news on the Age of Eternity deaths, looking for anything that could connect the dots. Theories ranged from rogue AI to intentional sabotage, but nothing concrete. As I sifted through the chaos, a text from an unknown number pinged my phone.

We know you’ve been hacked. Please provide data on the hacker – GM Smasher.

I stared at the message. I wasn’t stupid enough to engage blindly, but curiosity got the better of me. I replied cautiously:

Put me in contact with your head developer, and then we can talk.

It felt like a shot in the dark, a bluff they’d probably ignore. To my surprise, my phone buzzed seconds later. A call.

“Hello?” I asked, unsure what to expect.

“This is Sato Junko,” a calm, professional woman’s voice replied.

I blinked. “You’re the lead developer for Age of Eternity?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “We’ve been monitoring your account activity and noticed several anomalies. Some of the code affecting your account has started to seep into other parts of the game. This ‘Spectre’ that players are discussing—what do you know about it?”

I hesitated, piecing together how much to reveal. “The Spectre claimed the company had it—or rather, him—killed. Honestly, I think it’s just some low-tier hacker. He causes graphical glitches, pulls stunts like locking players into areas, and, worst of all, seems to have hacked the EternaLink system itself. That’s where things get dangerous.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, she spoke, her voice more deliberate.

“We will send you a replacement EternaLink unit immediately. Please box your current one and hand it to the delivery agent when they arrive. The servers will remain offline, so this is your chance to disconnect safely while we investigate further.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

I frowned but nodded to myself. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Consider it a precaution,” Junko said. “Thank you for cooperating. And if you recall any additional details about the Spectre, please inform us directly.”

The call ended, leaving me with more questions than answers. The urgency in her voice felt genuine, but I wasn’t about to let my guard down. This situation was bigger than I’d realized.

After boxing my EternaLink unit and handing it over to the courier, I found myself staring at my empty gaming setup. With Age of Eternity down and no VR system, there wasn’t much to do. But an idea started forming, one I couldn’t ignore.

Royale Online.

It had been years since I’d logged into that game. Once my playground, it was now a distant memory, marred by drama and betrayal. Mira had mentioned that players were flocking back during AoE’s downtime, and curiosity gnawed at me. Did my old builds still hold up? Was my legacy intact?

I dusted off my old VR rig, a clunky relic compared to the EternaLink. It took hours to set up and even longer to update the game. By the time I logged in, the familiar sight of Gathering City filled my view.

The first thing I noticed was the statue.

It stood in the heart of the city, unmistakably modeled after my character: the Master of the Meta. A smirk tugged at my lips as I circled it. Even after everything, they couldn’t erase my influence completely.

The chat was alive with players, old and new. Some debated the viability of revamped classes, while others traded tips on gear and strategies. I couldn’t resist joining a nearby duel arena, eager to see if I still had the chops.

The first challenger was a cocky player wielding a new meta build—something flashy with a lot of AoE damage. But they didn’t anticipate my unconventional tactics. Old habits kicked in as I dismantled their strategy, exploiting every weakness with surgical precision.

By the time the duel ended, a small crowd had gathered. Whispers rippled through the chat:

“Who’s this guy?”

“Wait… is that him?”

“No way, I thought he quit ages ago!”

I grinned, adrenaline pumping. Maybe it was nostalgia, or maybe it was the sheer thrill of proving myself again, but for the first time in days, the weight of the Spectre and AoE’s mysteries faded.

"I see this game has been lost without its Master to preside! That simply won’t do," I declared with a smug grin, my words dripping with arrogance. The chat exploded in response, players flooding the screen with messages:

“No way, it’s him!”

“Meta King is back!”

“Was wondering when he'd show up.”

My pure Evocator Wizard build hummed with power as I effortlessly blasted through challengers. My gear was leagues beyond what most players could dream of, a culmination of countless hours farming materials and rerolling affixes with cruel RNG gods watching. My prized possession? The Dragon God’s Staff of Ultimate Magic. Sure, the name was cliché, but its power was anything but. Renaming it required real money, and I'd already spent my allowance on getting The Avisious Tower immortalized in the game.

As I basked in the crowd's attention, my eyes locked on a familiar figure. Blazer. His classic Flaming Sword Knight archetype glowed ominously as he leapt from a nearby rooftop, landing with a heavy thud.

"Couldn’t resist crawling back now that AoE is down, huh?” he sneered. “How about a duel for old times’ sake?"

I scanned his build. Subtle tweaks here and there, but nothing I couldn’t dismantle.

"Why not?" I said, a playful smirk tugging at my lips.

Blazer grinned savagely, activating Barbarian’s Fury. His attack power surged, doubling instantly. One hit would hurt like hell. He roared and lunged, sword ablaze, the flames licking the air as he closed the gap.

I stood my ground, calm as ever, and activated Silent Spells. No incantations, no flashy hand movements—just raw, seamless magic. I buffed myself with every advantage the game allowed, my fingers already dancing across my setup for the inevitable counterattack.

Blazer charged with reckless abandon, but his movements were too familiar. He had a new flourish—a spin meant to disrupt timing—but spinning was my thing. His sword smashed into the barrier I cast at the last second, sending sparks flying.

His grin faltered as I raised a finger. "Lightning Driver."

A spear of pure lightning erupted from my outstretched hand, screaming through the air with deadly precision. Blazer’s reflexes were sharp, and he twisted away at the last moment, the lightning grazing his armor.

"Nice dodge," I quipped, already chaining my next combo. "Let’s see you dodge this."

I unleashed Tornado Wind first, whipping up a furious vortex that pinned him in place. Before he could recover, I layered it with Dark Pulse: Wind, creating jagged, slicing currents within the storm. He grit his teeth, raising his shield to weather the damage, but I wasn’t done.

"Lightning Spear!" I called, a crackling bolt forming in my hand. I hurled it into the vortex, the wind amplifying its speed and unpredictability. Blazer cursed as he rolled out of the storm, barely escaping with singed armor.

"You’re slipping, Blazer," I taunted, lifting my staff for the finale. "Crushing Force."

The air above him rippled before a massive gravitational burst slammed down, pinning him to the ground. He groaned, his movements sluggish as the pressure bore down on him.

“You’ve gotten predictable," I said, stepping closer, my voice cold. “Same tricks, same overconfidence. Admit it—you’re outclassed.”

Blazer growled, trying to push himself up, but the fight was already over. One final Lightning Driver lanced toward him, exploding in a brilliant display that left him sprawled, defeated.

The chat erupted again.

“Blazer got SMOKED!”

“Avisious back to flex on us plebs!”

“Absolute domination!”

Blazer coughed and grumbled as he respawned nearby, glaring at Blazar stood still for a moment before sending me a private voice message.

“Need to talk. Meet in the Waiting Room.”

I nodded and waited for him to enter. When he did, there was an unusual air of seriousness about him.

“So, listen,” he began, his voice low and measured. “You keep seeing that specter asshat, don’t you?”

There was no arrogance, no jabs or uncouth words this time. It almost sounded like genuine concern.

“Yeah. Floor 5 of the Lower Dungeon,” I admitted. “He glitched me and dumped me on Floor 10.”

Blazar raised an eyebrow, skepticism flickering across his face. “Floor 10? So, in essence, he’s making you cheat?”

I sighed. “I didn’t have much of a choice. I barely made it out alive. That bastard hacked my VR unit.”

Blazar frowned, the concern deepening. “Damn… Mira and I have been digging into some of the employees’ pasts at EternaLink. Turns out, a few devs got canned for abusing the tech. One of them managed to keep his access to the game. Do you still have your EternaLink unit?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I returned it to the company this morning.”

“That’s good.” Blazar paused, his tone dropping further. “The deaths—those people who never logged back out? One of them was just sixteen. The third death was a guy who died of malnutrition. Couldn’t log out, couldn’t pull the unit off his head, and the paralysis meant he couldn’t even scream for help. It’s sick.”

I leaned back, processing his words as he continued.

“And then there are the Ascended,” he added. “The ones who took this idiot’s deal. Their characters are nearly maxed—stats through the roof, gear that’s absolutely top-tier. But you know there’s no such thing as free power. Whatever this guy is offering, it’s gotta come with a cost.”

Deep down, I knew Blazar wasn’t as much of a hardass as he liked to act. Our rivalry had always been more his thing than mine, and moments like this proved he was alright beneath the bluster.

“Mira brought over breakfast this morning,” I said, shrugging. “So at least someone still cares.”

Blazar let out a dry laugh. “She still loves you. Don’t ask me why, but she does. You two used to be RO’s power couple. Now, in AoE, you’re just the lone wolf.” I half grinned

Yeah, I guess," I said, leaning back. "Besides, what exactly are you offering here?"

"I'm offering to watch your back," Blazar said, his tone softer than usual. "Like the old days. The Sunbringer Guild still in the spotlight."

I raised an eyebrow. Blazar always had a flair for dramatics, but this time, there was something genuine buried beneath the bravado.

He exhaled deeply, his usual confidence faltering for a moment. "I know we didn’t exactly see eye to eye—about anything. I made a mistake, thinking I had to be the best at everything. I obsessed over my builds, tweaking and refining, but nothing I ever came up with could match the way you played. I got into AoE for the purity of it, the freedom. But then I saw you in there."

He hesitated, as though weighing his next words carefully. "The color scheme. Your moves. I knew it was you. And then Mira told me you’d been playing, and... I lost it. Seeing you there just pissed me off. Like you were crashing my game. But honestly?" He sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was wrong. You’ve always been better, and not just because of your builds. You use the damn game like it’s a part of you."

I stared at him, unsure what to say. Was this Blazar's way of apologizing?

"Look," he continued, his voice steadier now, "I know I’m a Grade-A prick. I know that. In the real world, I’m just some rich guy. But in VR, I’m a beast. Or at least, I thought I was—until you showed up. If you ever need help in AoE, I’ve got your back. No strings attached."

I nodded, letting his words settle. "Thanks. I’ll think about it."

Blazar gave me a small, almost reluctant smile, then logged out.

A week later, my new EternaLink arrived. The redesign was sleek, a significant improvement over the older model. It even had an emergency Disconnect button—a physical override to force a shutdown, no matter what. It seemed EternaLink wasn’t taking any more chances.

I unpacked the device, hooked it up, and booted up the game. After patching the client and logging in, everything seemed normal. My inbox pinged with an official email:

We have reviewed your VR unit, there was imbedded code in there to override the system and cause systematic failure, forcing you to stay logged in, the issue has been resolved. Any further issues reply to this email and we will sort it.

The email didn’t address whether the rogue developer—or whatever they were—had been dealt with. I had a sinking feeling I’d have to find out the hard way.

My character loaded in exactly where I left off: Floor 11 of the Lower Dungeon. I checked my inventory—my Atlas of Power, my equipment, my skills. Everything was intact.

I took a moment to adjust my gear, ensuring I was ready for anything. The glow of the dungeon walls flickered in the distance, shadows playing tricks on the edges of my vision.

It was time to return to the grind.

And that’s when the game took a dark turn.