Ethan leaned back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as Aqua and ChronoKnight debated strategy in the party chat. It had been a week of relative peace, filled with farming sessions, dungeon runs, and the occasional chaotic laugh at Aqua’s relentless humor.

With Aqua’s formidable skills and ChronoKnight’s unwavering positivity, Ethan was starting to feel like gaming was fun again, despite the occasional leftover echoes of past harassment.

One day, as they wrapped up a raid, Aqua's playful voice came through the chat. “So, you two—how would you feel about joining me for a livestream during the next raid event? You know, give the world a taste of what real teamwork looks like?”

ChronoKnight immediately perked up. “A livestream? That sounds amazing! Count me in.”

Ethan, however, hesitated. He’d been careful about keeping his identity under wraps, especially after all the drama surrounding Phoenix.

“I don’t know,” Ethan said cautiously. “I’m not really a fan of... public attention.”

Aqua’s tone turned coaxing. “Don’t worry, Ash. I’ve been doing this for years. I know how to keep things private. No one will know who you are unless you tell them. And you wouldn’t be on camera—just your voice. What do you say? It could be fun.”

Ethan frowned. He trusted Aqua, but the idea still made him uneasy. However, he also didn’t want to be the one holding the group back.

“Alright,” he said finally. “But only if we keep it strictly voice. No facecams, no personal questions, nothing that could even hint at my real identity.”

“Deal!” Aqua said enthusiastically. “This is going to be great! I’ll set everything up and send you the details before we go live.”

ChronoKnight chimed in, “Don’t worry, Ash. We’ve got your back. This is going to be fun!”

Ethan nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

The day of the livestream arrived quickly, and Ethan found himself double-checking his mic settings and account privacy. Aqua had assured him she’d take care of everything, but he still felt a pang of anxiety as the countdown to the stream ticked closer.

When they finally went live, Aqua’s screen showed their avatars standing in front of the raid’s entrance. Her energetic voice welcomed the viewers.

“Hey, everyone! Aqua here, back with another epic stream. Today, I’m joined by two amazing players: the ever-reliable ChronoKnight and the mysterious healer, Ash!”

ChronoKnight gave an enthusiastic greeting, and Ethan managed a polite “Hello,” keeping his tone neutral.

The chat lit up with excitement.

“OMG, is that the real ChronoKnight?”

“Aqua streaming with a healer? Unheard of!”

“Ash sounds kind of cool. Who is he?”

The raid began, and the trio fell into an easy rhythm. ChronoKnight led the charge, Aqua handled crowd control, and Ethan kept their health bars full with well-timed heals. Aqua narrated their progress, throwing in jokes and engaging with the chat while maintaining a professional air.

Despite his earlier apprehension, Ethan started to relax. The teamwork was seamless, and Aqua was true to her word—she kept the focus on the gameplay, never straying into personal territory.

Midway through the stream, just as they were nearing the raid’s final boss, Ethan’s phone buzzed on his desk. He ignored it at first, assuming it was a spam call or notification, but it buzzed again. And again.

Finally, he sighed and picked it up. The number on the screen was uncomfortably familiar.

“Alex,” he muttered under his breath.

His manager.

Panic shot through him as he realized why Alex might be calling. He muted his mic in the game and answered.

“Ethan,” Alex’s voice came through, brisk and professional. “I need you to explain something to me. Right now.”

Ethan’s heart sank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Alex snapped. “I’m watching Aqua’s livestream. That’s you, isn’t it? You can try to disguise your name and hide behind a different avatar, but I’d recognize your voice anywhere.”

Ethan didn’t respond, his mind racing.

“Look,” Alex continued, “I’m not angry. But this—this could blow up, Ethan. Do you realize what’s happening in the chat right now? People are already speculating. They’re saying you sound a lot like Phoenix.”

Ethan dared to glance at the chat on Aqua’s stream. His worst fears were confirmed.

“Ash’s voice sounds familiar...”

“Wait, is this Phoenix??”

“No way, Phoenix wouldn’t play a healer.”

“I’m not Phoenix anymore,” Ethan said firmly. “I’m just a random player trying to enjoy the game.”

“Well, the internet doesn’t see it that way,” Alex said. “You need to be careful. If this gets out of hand, it could spiral into something you can’t control.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Ethan said tersely. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a raid to finish.” He hung up before Alex could say more.

Unmuting his mic, Ethan rejoined the game just as ChronoKnight was calling for him.

“Ash! Where’d you go, man? We’re about to face the boss!”

“Sorry,” Ethan said quickly. “Got distracted. I’m here now.”

The trio dove into the final fight, their coordination as sharp as ever. Aqua’s voice filled the air with commands and commentary, and Ethan focused on keeping his teammates alive.

When the boss finally fell, the chat erupted in cheers. Aqua celebrated loudly, ChronoKnight whooped with excitement, and Ethan allowed himself a small smile.

“GG, everyone!” Aqua said, her voice full of pride. “That was amazing teamwork. Thanks for joining me, Ash and ChronoKnight. You two are incredible.”

As the stream ended, Ethan couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and apprehension. The raid had been a success, but Alex’s warning lingered in the back of his mind.

For now, though, he chose to focus on the positive. He’d survived the stream, kept his identity hidden, and proven to himself that he could still enjoy the game, even with the weight of his past hovering nearby.

Ethan logged back into Rebirth Online with a heavy sigh, already anticipating the flood of attention that awaited him. Ever since Aqua’s livestream, his in-game inbox had been bombarded with party requests, compliments, and an alarming number of questions about whether he was really Phoenix. The fame felt suffocating. Even ChronoKnight, his steady and cheerful companion, seemed to have changed.

“Yo, Ash!” ChronoKnight’s familiar voice greeted him as he spawned in the starting village. “You see the numbers from Aqua’s stream? People are losing their minds! We’re practically celebrities now.”

Ethan forced a chuckle. “Yeah, I noticed.”

ChronoKnight beamed. “This is huge, man! I’ve been getting invites to all sorts of events. There’s this trendy treasure hunt tomorrow—perfect for us to join in on. Oh, and a couple of streamers reached out to Aqua, asking if we’d guest-star on their channels. We’re on the rise, dude!”

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Ethan hesitated. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, but I’m not sure I want to get involved in all that.”

ChronoKnight tilted his head. “What do you mean? This is a golden opportunity. You’re already a fan favorite, even if you don’t realize it. With your skills and my charisma, we could dominate the scene.”

“That’s just it,” Ethan said, voice firm but calm. “I didn’t start playing Rebirth Online to be popular. I wanted to escape from all of that—the spotlight, the expectations, the stress. This was supposed to be my break from the chaos of my old life, not a repeat of it.”

ChronoKnight’s grin faltered. “You’re overthinking it, man. This isn’t like your past. We’re just playing a game, having fun, and sharing it with others.”

“Is it really just a game when people keep asking if I’m Phoenix?” Ethan countered. “Or when they follow me around and flood my inbox? It doesn’t feel like fun anymore—it feels like work.”

ChronoKnight frowned. “I get where you’re coming from, but hiding from it won’t make it better. You’re talented, Ash. People want to see you shine. Why not embrace it?”

Ethan shook his head. “Because I’ve been there before. I know how this ends. It’s never just about the game—it’s about keeping up appearances, meeting expectations, and dealing with backlash when you can’t. I’ve already lived that life, Chrono. I don’t want to live it again.”

ChronoKnight’s face fell. “So, what? You’re just going to ignore the chance to make something out of this? Throw it all away?”

“I’m not throwing anything away,” Ethan said quietly. “I’m just choosing to prioritize my peace of mind.”

The silence between them grew heavy.

“Fine,” ChronoKnight said at last, his tone clipped. “If that’s how you feel, maybe it’s best if we take a break from teaming up. I didn’t sign up to play with someone who’s going to run from every opportunity.”

Ethan flinched but nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

The next few days felt strange. Ethan logged on and played alone, avoiding popular areas and high-traffic zones. He missed ChronoKnight’s lighthearted chatter and dependable presence, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach out. He knew his decision had driven a wedge between them, and while it hurt, he believed it was for the best.

One evening, as he sat in a quiet corner of the game’s map, grinding for materials, he reflected on their falling out.

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ethan muttered to himself. “ChronoKnight is a natural-born leader—charismatic, ambitious, and always looking for the next big thing. Me? I’m just trying to enjoy the little things.”

The rift between them had been inevitable, Ethan realized. Their goals were too different. ChronoKnight thrived in the spotlight, while Ethan sought refuge in the shadows.

Still, it stung.

Ethan’s solo adventures were peaceful but lonely. Without ChronoKnight to share strategies or Aqua’s boisterous humor, the game felt quieter. He found himself retreating further into isolated parts of the map, focusing on quests that didn’t require teamwork.

One day, as he wandered through an uninhabited region of the game, a message from ChronoKnight popped up in his inbox.

ChronoKnight: Hey. Hope you’re doing okay. Just wanted to let you know I’m joining a big event tonight. It’s gonna be live-streamed. You should check it out if you’re free.

Ethan stared at the message for a long moment before typing a brief reply.

Ash: Thanks for letting me know. Good luck.

He didn’t log off, but he didn’t join the stream either. Instead, he stayed in his quiet corner of the map, completing mundane tasks and reflecting on how much had changed.

Despite everything, Ethan didn’t regret his decision. Playing alone allowed him to focus on the game itself, free from distractions and external pressures. He could take his time, explore at his own pace, and enjoy the small victories without worrying about what anyone else thought.

But as much as he tried to convince himself that this was what he wanted, he couldn’t shake the nagging sense of loss.

For all its challenges, his time with ChronoKnight and Aqua had been some of the most fun he’d had in Rebirth Online. He missed their camaraderie, their shared laughter, and the sense of belonging that came with being part of a team.

Still, he reminded himself, it was better this way. Better to play alone than risk being dragged back into a life he’d worked so hard to leave behind.

Weeks passed, and Ethan continued to forge his own path in the game. He avoided popular events, ignored party requests, and steered clear of high-profile areas.

Yet, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t escape the echoes of his past. Players still whispered about Phoenix, and the name "Ash" had started to gain its own reputation. Ethan had become a reluctant legend—a healer who played by his own rules and refused to conform to the expectations of others.

And though it wasn’t the kind of fame he wanted, he found solace in the fact that he was staying true to himself.

“Maybe I’m not meant to be part of a team,” Ethan mused one evening, watching the in-game sunset from a quiet hilltop. “Maybe this is how I’m supposed to play—alone, free, and unburdened.”

It wasn’t the happiest conclusion, but it was one Ethan could live with.

For now, that was enough.

______

Ethan had settled into his solo playstyle with surprising ease. He found quiet satisfaction in completing quests at his own pace, exploring obscure parts of Rebirth Online, and steadily leveling his character without the weight of external expectations.

It wasn’t the most thrilling way to play, but it gave him a sense of control and peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. For Ethan, the game had returned to being a refuge—a far cry from the bustling chaos of his brief stint with ChronoKnight and Aqua.

One evening, while grinding through a dungeon, Ethan’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, startled to see ChronoKnight’s name flashing on the screen. Hesitating for a moment, he finally accepted the call.

“Hey, ChronoKnight,” Ethan said cautiously.

“Ethan,” ChronoKnight started, his voice tense. “I need to talk to you.”

Ethan braced himself. “What’s up?”

“It’s all falling apart,” ChronoKnight snapped, his frustration clear. “Ever since you went off on your own, things haven’t been the same. People aren’t as interested in me anymore—they’re obsessed with ‘Ash.’ Everywhere I go, all I hear is, ‘Where’s Ash? Why isn’t Ash playing?’ It’s like I don’t even exist anymore!”

Ethan stayed silent, letting ChronoKnight vent.

“I thought this was going to be our moment, you know? But no, you just had to step back, leave me to deal with everything. And now I’m stuck looking like an idiot while you get to be the mysterious, untouchable legend everyone loves.”

Ethan sighed. “I didn’t ask for any of that attention, ChronoKnight. You know why I wanted to stay out of the spotlight.”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out,” ChronoKnight shot back. “You’re more popular than ever, even without trying! Meanwhile, I’m out here scrambling to stay relevant. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?”

Ethan paused, choosing his words carefully. “Chrono, I get that you’re upset. But this was your decision. You wanted to chase the spotlight, and I chose to step away. You can’t blame me for how things turned out.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” ChronoKnight snapped, his voice rising. “You always think you’re so above it all, don’t you? Too good for the rest of us, just because you’re the almighty Phoenix.”

Ethan frowned. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“Whatever,” ChronoKnight spat, his tone dripping with bitterness. “Enjoy your perfect little solo game, Ash. I hope it’s worth it.”

The line went dead before Ethan could respond.

The next day, ChronoKnight woke up feeling a gnawing sense of guilt. The anger that had consumed him the night before now seemed petty and unwarranted. He replayed the conversation in his mind, wincing at how harshly he’d spoken to Ethan.

“I need to apologize,” ChronoKnight muttered to himself. “I was way out of line.”

Logging into Rebirth Online, he drafted a message to Ethan, but before he could send it, a notification popped up.

[Invitation Received: Team Iron Vanguard]

ChronoKnight blinked, rereading the notification. He quickly opened it, finding a message from a player named IronFang, who introduced himself as the captain of a small up-and-coming pro team.

“Hey, ChronoKnight! We’ve been following your gameplay and think you’ve got amazing potential. We’re looking to expand our roster and would love to have you join Team Iron Vanguard. Let us know if you’re interested!”

ChronoKnight stared at the message, his guilt momentarily forgotten. This was it—the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

Without hesitation, he accepted the invitation, sending back an enthusiastic reply.

Over the next few days, ChronoKnight threw himself into his new role as a member of Team Iron Vanguard. The team was small and relatively unknown, but they had big aspirations and a lot of drive. ChronoKnight felt reinvigorated, diving headfirst into training sessions, team meetings, and strategy discussions.

For the first time in weeks, he felt like he had a purpose again. The frustrations of his dwindling popularity faded into the background as he focused on proving himself to his new teammates.

Yet, despite his newfound excitement, a small voice in the back of his mind kept nagging at him.

You still haven’t apologized to Ethan.

ChronoKnight pushed the thought away. He convinced himself that Ethan probably didn’t care. After all, Ethan had made it clear that he preferred playing alone. Why would he care about a petty argument?

Besides, ChronoKnight reasoned, he didn’t have time to dwell on the past. He had a team to focus on, matches to prepare for, and a reputation to build.

______

Meanwhile, Ethan had noticed ChronoKnight’s absence but chose not to dwell on it. He had enough on his plate, navigating the challenges of solo gameplay and avoiding the occasional trolling from players still obsessed with his Phoenix connection.

He missed the camaraderie he’d shared with ChronoKnight, but he reminded himself that their paths had diverged for a reason.

One evening, as Ethan was completing a particularly grueling solo quest, he received a message from Aqua.

Aqua: Hey, heard about Chrono. He joined some new team. Pretty cool, right?

Ethan stared at the message for a moment before typing a simple reply.

Ash: Yeah, good for him.

He meant it. Despite their falling out, Ethan genuinely wished ChronoKnight the best. He hoped that his friend would find the success and fulfillment he was looking for.

But as Ethan logged off for the night, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. Another friendship lost to the relentless churn of ambition and fame.

For Ethan, it was a painful reminder of why he’d chosen to step away from that world in the first place.