Ethan’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, a mix of apprehension and fatigue clouding his thoughts as he logged back into Rebirth Online. The familiar loading screen filled his monitor, the soothing melody doing little to quell the knot in his stomach.

He had logged out in a rush the day before, hoping that the chaos and hostility surrounding him would die down overnight. But as the virtual village materialized before him, it was clear that peace was not in his cards.

The moment Ethan appeared, his chat window exploded.

[Player1]: Hey healer, we need you for the farming event!

[Player2]: Party up with us! We’ve got DPS!

[Player3]: Dude, what’s wrong with you? Heal us this time!

He grimaced as message after message scrolled by. Even more players crowded around his avatar, their desperation palpable. Clicking furiously, he dismissed each invitation, his patience wearing thin.

The sheer number of players calling on him was staggering. Many of them were fresh avatars, hastily created as alts by more experienced players who had heard about the farming event and realized they couldn’t progress without a healer.

But healers were a rare breed in Rebirth Online. The role’s inherent difficulty and lack of immediate gratification turned most players away. Many of the so-called “alt healers” would quit after an hour of frustration, abandoning their characters in favor of returning to their mains.

The cycle was vicious and unsustainable, leaving Ethan once again as one of the few healers online, and the only one with even a modicum of experience.

“I just want to play the game,” Ethan muttered under his breath, moving his character to a quieter part of the village.

As he tried to escape the chaos, a notification popped up.

[ChronoKnight]: Hey, Ethan. Got a minute?

The message was like a lifeline in a storm of party requests. Ethan blinked at the name, his heart skipping a beat. ChronoKnight—the mysterious, competent swordsman who had helped him during his first job change quest.

Ethan hesitated, his fingers poised over the keyboard. He couldn’t deny that ChronoKnight had been a reliable ally, but the timing of the message made him suspicious.

[Ethan]: Hey. What’s up?

The reply came almost instantly.

[ChronoKnight]: Heard about the farming event. I figure you’re being swamped with requests.

Ethan exhaled, his tension easing slightly. At least ChronoKnight wasn’t one of the rabid players demanding his help.

[Ethan]: Yeah, it’s been… a lot.

[ChronoKnight]: Thought so. I was wondering if you’d be interested in teaming up.

Ethan’s fingers stilled. ChronoKnight’s directness was refreshing, but it also put him on guard.

[Ethan]: Why do you want to team up?

There was a pause before ChronoKnight’s reply came through.

[ChronoKnight]: Because I know how these events work. They’re tailored to frustrate solo players. And let’s face it, healers like you are a game-changer in these situations. If we team up, we could actually make some progress.

Ethan stared at the screen, mulling over the words. ChronoKnight’s reasoning was sound, but a niggling doubt remained in the back of his mind. He had been burned before—by teammates, by supposed allies—and he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

[Ethan]: What’s in it for you?

[ChronoKnight]: Honestly? I just like playing the game with competent people. You’re a good healer, and I’m a decent swordsman. We’d make a solid team. That’s all.

Ethan felt a pang of guilt for doubting him. ChronoKnight’s message didn’t come off as insincere or manipulative. If anything, it sounded genuine.

[Ethan]: Fine. I’ll team up with you. But no funny business.

[ChronoKnight]: Funny business? I’m not Esmo. Chill. I’ll meet you by the event portal.

When Ethan arrived at the portal, ChronoKnight was already waiting, his armor polished and his sword glinting in the sunlight. He looked every bit the confident warrior Ethan remembered.

“Good to see you again,” ChronoKnight said, giving a friendly wave.

Ethan nodded, unsure how to respond. Social interactions, even virtual ones, were still not his strong suit.

ChronoKnight gestured toward the portal. “Ready to take this on? Or do you need to prep?”

“I’m good,” Ethan replied, adjusting his inventory. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The two stepped into the portal, and the bustling village gave way to a sprawling farmland, bathed in golden light. Fields of wheat stretched out before them, dotted with massive, menacing creatures that looked like a cross between bulls and dragons.

“This is what everyone’s struggling with?” Ethan asked, eyeing the creatures warily.

“Yup,” ChronoKnight said, cracking his knuckles. “High health, high damage, and they enrage if you take too long to kill them. It’s a nightmare without a healer.”

Ethan sighed. “Great. No pressure, right?”

The first encounter was rocky. Ethan’s healing skills were adequate, but he struggled to keep up with the fast-paced combat. ChronoKnight, however, was a force of nature. His swordsmanship was precise, his movements fluid and controlled.

“You’re not bad,” ChronoKnight said, dodging a sweeping tail attack.

“Thanks,” Ethan muttered, casting a healing spell. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

As they worked together, their synergy improved. ChronoKnight would call out attacks, and Ethan would time his heals perfectly. The fights were grueling, but they managed to bring down creature after creature.

During a brief pause, Ethan found himself asking, “Why’d you really want to help me? You could’ve teamed up with anyone.”

ChronoKnight sheathed his sword and leaned against a nearby fence. “I like helping new players. Reminds me of when I started. Plus, I’ve been on the other side—struggling alone, getting ignored by better players. It sucks. I don’t want anyone else to feel that way.”

Ethan blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in ChronoKnight’s voice. It was a sentiment that hit close to home.

“You’re full of surprises,” Ethan said.

ChronoKnight grinned. “Stick around. There’s more where that came from.”

Ethan chuckled, feeling a rare moment of camaraderie. For the first time in a while, he felt like he wasn’t just another healer being used for their utility. ChronoKnight saw him as a player, an equal.

As they prepared to take on the next wave of creatures, Ethan realized something else—he was actually starting to enjoy himself. For the first time since he logged in, the weight of expectations felt a little lighter.

______

The sleek offices of EPGames were buzzing with tension. Since the revelation about Phoenix’s age during a recent tournament, the agency had been inundated with questions. Reporters, sponsors, and fans were all clamoring for details about their mysterious ex-captain. The agency’s social media platforms were flooded with demands for an official statement, and speculation was running rampant in gaming circles.

Alex, Ethan’s former manager, sat in his corner office, scrolling through the chaos on his phone. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on his shoulders. The more the agency stayed silent, the worse the rumors grew.

“We have to do something,” Alex muttered, slamming his phone onto his desk. He rubbed his temples, his mind racing. Phoenix isn’t even part of the team anymore, and he’s still causing this much trouble.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. There was only one option left: he had to reach out to Ethan himself.

Ethan was in the middle of a boss fight with ChronoKnight when his phone buzzed. Ignoring it, he focused on timing his heals, keeping his teammate alive as they battled a hulking, enraged bull-dragon.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

But the phone kept buzzing.

“Hang on,” Ethan said, quickly casting a regeneration spell before grabbing his phone. He frowned when he saw the caller ID: Alex.

“What do you want?” Ethan asked, answering the call while keeping half an eye on the game.

“Hello to you too, Ethan,” Alex replied, his voice clipped. “I’m assuming you’ve seen the news?”

Ethan blinked, confused. “What news?”

Alex groaned. “The whole gaming world is talking about you, Phoenix. Your age, your identity, your disappearance. People are demanding answers. We’re drowning here.”

Ethan sighed, leaning back in his chair. “And what does that have to do with me? I’m not part of your agency anymore.”

“Don’t be so naive,” Alex snapped. “This is about your legacy. If you don’t say something, the rumors will only get worse. Do you really want people thinking you’re hiding some dark secret?”

Ethan hesitated, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. He hated being in the spotlight, but Alex wasn’t wrong. The longer this dragged on, the messier it would get.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Ethan asked reluctantly.

“Just make a statement,” Alex said, his tone softening slightly. “Something simple to clear the air. You don’t have to give too much away—just enough to stop the speculation.”

Ethan groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I’ll do it. But after this, I’m done. Don’t call me again.”

Later that evening, Ethan sat in front of his computer, staring at the blank tweet box. He had never been active on social media, and crafting a statement felt like pulling teeth.

After several false starts, he finally typed something he could live with:

“Hey, everyone. Yes, it’s true—I was a minor while competing as Phoenix. I left the scene to focus on other things. Thanks for the support, but I won’t be returning. Please respect my privacy.”

He read it over a dozen times before hitting send. Almost immediately, the notification bell on his account began pinging incessantly. Ethan quickly logged out, not wanting to deal with the fallout.

The gaming world exploded.

Fans and critics alike dissected every word of Ethan’s statement, and theories about his current whereabouts multiplied. Some believed he was under protection by powerful sponsors, while others thought he had gone completely underground.

The fact that Phoenix—an esports legend—had never used social media before made his sudden appearance all the more sensational. Everyone wanted more information, but Ethan’s lack of online presence made tracking him down nearly impossible.

Gaming forums buzzed with speculation:

“How did a minor manage to dominate the esports scene?”

“Who are Phoenix’s connections? He must have a crazy network to stay hidden like this.”

“Does anyone have any clues about his real identity?”

Even the EPGames agency found itself in the spotlight, with people accusing them of hiding details about their former star. Alex, for his part, regretted ever calling Ethan. The statement had only added fuel to the fire.

Meanwhile, Ethan was blissfully unaware of the chaos his statement had caused. After logging out of Twitter, he went back to his game, teaming up with ChronoKnight for a few more quests.

The farming event was still in full swing, but thanks to ChronoKnight’s skills and Ethan’s healing, they managed to make decent progress. The camaraderie and steady rhythm of the game helped Ethan relax, and for a few hours, he forgot about the real world entirely.

By the time he logged off, it was well past midnight. Ethan yawned, stretching his stiff limbs before collapsing onto his bed.

“Just one more day,” he murmured to himself. “I’ll deal with everything tomorrow.”

While Ethan slept soundly, the world kept turning. Gaming news outlets picked up his tweet, plastering it across their headlines.

“Phoenix Speaks: Esports Legend Confirms Age Rumors”

“Phoenix Breaks Silence—But Where Is He Now?”

“The Enigma of Phoenix Deepens”

Fans scoured every corner of the internet, trying to piece together his identity. Some even speculated that his cryptic wording meant he was planning a comeback, sparking further debate.

But for Ethan, the noise of the outside world didn’t matter. As far as he was concerned, he had done his part. He had said his piece and closed the chapter on his esports career.

For now, all he wanted was to play Rebirth Online, grind his healer, and enjoy a quiet life—no matter how impossible that seemed.

______

Ethan’s character crouched in the fields of the farming event, carefully targeting pests that swarmed over the crops. The event was an odd mix of combat and management, requiring players to fend off attackers while simultaneously improving the farm’s yield. Ethan enjoyed the challenge—it was the perfect balance of strategy and action.

ChronoKnight, his trusted companion in the game, was helping Ethan manage the event. His character, a towering swordsman clad in gleaming silver armor, was hacking away at oversized rats that were gnawing on the wheat.

“This event is kind of fun, don’t you think?” ChronoKnight asked, sheathing his sword as the wave ended.

“Yeah, I like how it’s not just about fighting,” Ethan replied, casting a healing spell on one of the farm NPCs. “It’s different.”

As they worked together, ChronoKnight suddenly brought up a topic Ethan had been dreading.

“So... what do you think about this whole Phoenix situation?” ChronoKnight asked casually, slashing a stray monster.

Ethan’s fingers froze over his keyboard for a moment before he forced himself to keep playing. “What about it?” he asked, feigning disinterest.

“Well, it’s all anyone’s talking about. I even saw some people in the chat earlier wondering if Phoenix might secretly be playing Rebirth Online. Pretty wild, huh?”

Ethan chuckled nervously, trying to steer the conversation away. “Sounds like people have way too much free time on their hands.”

ChronoKnight didn’t push further, but Ethan could feel his gaze lingering.

As the next wave of enemies descended, Ethan focused on healing the NPC guards and keeping the crops safe. However, he couldn’t shake a strange feeling that prickled at the back of his mind.

“Hey, Chrono,” Ethan said cautiously.

“Yeah?”

“Does it feel like... someone’s watching us?”

ChronoKnight paused, his character halting mid-swing. “Watching us? Like how?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan admitted. “It just feels weird. Like someone’s following us.”

ChronoKnight immediately activated a skill called Eagle’s Perception, a high-level ability that expanded his field of vision and allowed him to detect hidden players within a certain radius.

“Wait a second...” ChronoKnight muttered. “You might be onto something. There’s someone hiding over there—east of the barn.”

Ethan’s stomach dropped. “What do we do?”

“Stay calm,” ChronoKnight said, gripping his sword. “Let’s see if they make the first move.”

Before they could act, the hidden player stepped into view. It was a mage, clad in flowing dark robes that shimmered faintly with an ominous aura. The name NightGleam hovered above their head in crimson text, signaling that they were flagged for PvP.

“Looks like someone’s been busy,” the mage said, their voice dripping with amusement. “I’ve been watching you two for a while now. Quite the teamwork you’ve got going on.”

Ethan immediately tensed. “Who are you, and why are you watching us?”

NightGleam twirled their staff lazily. “Oh, no need to be so hostile. I’m just here to... observe. You know, see what all the fuss is about.”

“What fuss?” ChronoKnight demanded, stepping in front of Ethan protectively.

The mage smirked. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. You think people haven’t noticed you two dominating this event? A healer and a swordsman working this well together—it’s a bit suspicious, don’t you think?”

Ethan felt a wave of irritation. “We’re just playing the game. What’s it to you?”

NightGleam chuckled. “Relax, kid. I’m not here to pick a fight. Yet. I just wanted to see if the rumors were true.”

“Rumors?” ChronoKnight echoed, his grip tightening on his sword.

The mage tilted their head, their expression unreadable. “Word on the forums is there’s a player out here who’s unusually skilled. Some even say they might be... Phoenix.”

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to stay calm. “That’s ridiculous. Why would someone like Phoenix be playing a farming event in a low-level zone?”

NightGleam shrugged. “Who knows? But it doesn’t hurt to check, right?”

ChronoKnight took a step forward, his sword glowing faintly. “If you’re not here to fight, then leave. We’re busy.”

NightGleam raised their hands in mock surrender. “Easy, knight. I told you, I’m just here to watch. But... if you’re so eager to prove yourselves, how about a little test?”

Ethan groaned. “We’re not interested in whatever you’re selling. Just go away.”

“Suit yourself,” NightGleam said, their smirk widening. “But don’t think you can keep hiding forever. People are watching, Phoenix. And they’ll find you eventually.”

Before either of them could respond, the mage activated a teleportation skill, vanishing in a swirl of dark smoke.

Ethan and ChronoKnight stood in silence for a moment, the tension lingering in the air.

“Well, that was weird,” ChronoKnight finally said, sheathing his sword.

Ethan nodded, his mind racing. “Do you think they’ll come back?”

“Probably not,” ChronoKnight said. “But we should stay on guard. If they’re spreading rumors, it could attract more players like them.”

Ethan sighed, feeling a headache coming on. “Great. Just what I needed.”

ChronoKnight clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you. Let’s finish this event and call it a day.”

Despite the encounter, Ethan pushed forward, determined to complete the farming event. However, NightGleam’s cryptic words lingered in the back of his mind. For the first time, he wondered if his quiet life in Rebirth Online was about to get a lot more complicated.

Ethan worked through the farming event alone, tending to crops and swatting away the occasional pest. ChronoKnight had logged off, citing some real-life commitments, leaving Ethan to handle things solo. He didn’t mind. The peace and quiet were welcome after their strange encounter earlier.

The sun was setting in the game, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold as Ethan cast a rejuvenation spell on a struggling crop. He was so focused on his task that he almost didn’t notice the shadowy figure approaching from the east.

A familiar name floated above their head: NightGleam.

“Back again?” Ethan muttered, straightening up and gripping his small dagger tightly.

NightGleam stopped a few paces away, their dark robe shifting in the evening breeze. “I’m surprised you’re still here,” they said, their tone casual but edged with something unspoken.

“I could say the same about you,” Ethan replied, his voice wary.

NightGleam chuckled. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Should I?”

The mage tilted their head, disappointment flickering across their face. “You really don’t know. I suppose that makes sense. You’ve probably met thousands of people in your time, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ethan said flatly, his patience wearing thin.

NightGleam sighed, leaning on their staff. “How tragic. Here I thought I’d finally get a reaction out of you. No matter. Let’s cut to the chase.”

“And what’s that?”

“A duel,” NightGleam said simply, their smirk returning. “One on one. No distractions. No outside help. Just you and me.”

Ethan blinked, caught off guard. “Why would I do that?”

“Why not?” the mage countered. “Consider it a test. You’re clearly skilled, even as a low-level healer. Aren’t you curious to see how you’d fare against someone like me?”

Ethan scoffed. “You’re flagged for PvP, aren’t you? This is just an excuse to mess with me.”

NightGleam shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I want to see if the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?” Ethan demanded, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

NightGleam’s smirk widened. “You know exactly what I mean. You can keep pretending all you want, but people are watching. They’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes, his grip on his dagger tightening. Part of him wanted to accept the challenge, if only to shut the mage up. But the other part of him—the cautious, calculated part—knew better.

“I’m not interested,” Ethan said, turning back to his crops.

NightGleam let out a disappointed sigh. “Suit yourself. But don’t think you can avoid me forever, Phoenix.”

Ethan froze at the name but didn’t turn around. By the time he gathered his thoughts and looked back, NightGleam was gone, leaving only a faint trace of dark smoke behind.

“Great,” Ethan muttered, resuming his work. “Just what I needed.”