#December 31st, 2032. 9:00 p.m. UTC.

#Private Server ‘Fallen Crescent’

#Host ID: ‘Isil von Caligo’

#Player Count: 53

#Companion NPC Count: 128

#Flavor NPC Count: 1,311

#Loaded Sector: ‘Dirak-Feûr’

#Time until server shutdown: 2 hours 59 minutes

#End Report#

In Tyverra, the sun was slowly setting behind the horizon. In the her room in the black tower Dirak-Feûr, the master of the guild ‘Fallen Crescent’ gazed out of the window. Her room – well, more accurately, her office – was situated near the top of the tower, giving her a spectacular view of the lands her guild owned. In her hand was a glass of red wine, nested between her middle and ring finger. She wore a set of black robes with silver trimming, creating a simple, yet elegant appearance. She wore a silver circlet shaped like two intertwining vines, carved with numerous runes and runic lines. Her eyes seemed to hold a deep-set melancholy as they gazed out at the sun that set over the water.

As the sun began to set for the final time on Tyverra, Isil von Caligo, first ranked player in the region of North America, felt weak. It was not a weakness of body or mind, but of will. She felt weak, as she could do nothing as she watched months of work dissolved with the setting sun. Money and time, the two most important things in the world. She had poured much of that into this game, this world of its own. And she had gotten much in return.

In the real world, she had already drafted up a novel based on her time in this world. A character should could sympathize with, villains that were multi-faceted, and a world that felt real. All of it was thanks to the game, ‘Endless Conquest’. If her book worked out, then she would probably get back in full the money she dumped into the game, and most likely exceed it. But she couldn’t get the time back. She sighed and sipped her wine. It was absolutely tasteless.

Isil looked around her office. The room was not as grand or opulent as one might expect of the master of the fifth ranked guild in North America, but Isil found that resources would be better off being used for guild projects, rather than personal opulence. Even the desk was made of normal, polished wood, not the magical variety. The office was mostly bookshelves, some records, others short flavor text books. The only other noteworthy things in the room was the window, which Isil was sitting on the edge of, and the desk, which was before the window. A single chair and a single desk, representing much of the solitude Isil had felt in the real world.

Three knocks resounded on her door, and a voice followed. “My lady, your presence is requested in the banquet hall.” The voice of what sounded like a maid came from the other side.

“By who?” She asked.

“Master Tyre.” The maid responded.

“Of course, I’ll be right there.” She replied.

As the wine in the game could not affect the mind like real alcohol did, Isil freely downed the whole glass in one go. She then walked around the desk, and out the door, where she nodded to the bowed maid. The door closed shut behind her, without a finger so much as touching it. The floor her office was on was extremely small, and it was only a few steps until she reached the magic elevator. While it was called an elevator, it was truly a teleporter, that only acted in the vertical direction. Isil pointed downward, and vanished from her position.

Isil reappeared on the floor below her. It was not the banquet room, so she pointed downwards once more, then again. Three floors below hers was the impossibly large room. Even at the base of Dirak-Feûr, the tower could not fit a room this large. Instead, it was through the warping of space and time that this floor was able to be constructed. The field of space and time was a very convoluted and mana-intensive path; and with spells concerning dimension transcendence - ‘bigger on the inside’ - the product was often very fragile, and had to be treated with care, else everything inside would violently explode outwards in a disastrous cataclysm.

Which was why Isil was understandably furious seeing the strongest members of her guild casually hurling powerful magic spells at each other.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Isil yelled, instantly casting a mana cancel.

Though most of the spells were too powerful to be canceled completely, some fizzled out while the rest were greatly weakened. The group turned to face the wrathful Isil, none of whom decided to attempt an escape. This was a smart decision on their side. While Isil might not have been able to capture two or more escapees, she could certainly handle one, and the other hundred combatant NPCs would follow her orders to the letter, even if it meant killing other guild members. While she wouldn’t order their deaths, pain could still be transmitted from virtual reality to normal reality. If they simply stayed put, then all they would have to endure would be a tongue-lashing and a slap on the wrist.

“Do you know how much money I’ve put into this tower? Do you know how expensive this room alone is?!” Isil waved her hands in anger. “It costs more than your worthless lives that’s for sure! Why is it that everyone here is involved in a magic food fight?! And where the hell is Tyre?!”

“Guildmaster, I saw him pop an invisibility potion before you came.” Someone said quickly.

Isil turned around swiftly, raising her hand that had suddenly become clad in sparks. She jutted out her hand in the direction of the elevator. A bolt of lightning shot from her hand, only lacking the sound of thunder. It hit something invisible, which shouted in pain. The invisibility faded away, revealing a middle-aged man squinting in pain.

“Hey, guildmaster,” The man complained, recovering himself rather quickly. “I thought you were busting us for using big spells, why are you using one yourself?”

“Because unlike the rest of you, I can actually aim my spells.” Isil retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I wouldn’t even have to use it if you didn’t try to make a run for it, Tyre. You’re the vice guildmaster, show some professionalism!”

Tyre laughed. “Well, what can I say? It’s our last day together, I was hoping to have a bit of fun doing something different.”

In an instant, the air in the room turned from mock sadness to helplessness. Just 3 hours. 3 hours and they would never return to the Dark Tower, Dirak-Feûr. It was a terrible feeling, they all agreed, to see your hard work be lost to the world. Some had felt it before, perhaps in school, work or at home, but it was notably different from this situation. Here, they had built this guild with passion and love. It was perhaps the most involved thing they could remember doing, and one of the most emotional. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real, to them, they loved the guild just as much as a real thing. That was why they were all here, at the end.

“… Enough. We have just under 3 hours left, let’s get the party started.” Isil said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

She clapped her hands twice, and suddenly, the large double doors at the end of the hall burst open, and maids and butlers wheeled in carts of luxurious food. They promptly went about setting the banquet table, laying cutlery and plates at record speed. Isil smiled sadly. She loved how amazing the AI for even the simplest character could be, but this would be the last time she saw it.

“Everyone, please find a seat. I will naturally be taking the host’s seat, and vice guildmasters Tyre and Norden will take the two next to me. You guys can sit wherever else you want, even in someone’s lap.” Isil momentarily paused and corrected herself. “Actually, don’t do that. That’s pretty weird.”

The other guild members nodded, and, with small murmurs of conversation, took their seats. Tyre had still been trying to escape to the elevator, but two maids came back dragging a bruised and bloodied Tyre with them. Sighing, Isil simply waved a finger and cast healing magic, restoring him back to perfect physical condition. Tyre stood up, shook the dust off his clothes, and looked away shamefully. He took his seat without another word.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” Isil glowered at Tyre.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve learnt that it takes about five max-level NPCs to take me down when I’m not serious.” Tyre muttered, picking up a fork and piling food unto his plate. “Hey, Diam, pass the chicken?”

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“Here,” A warrior with a sword almost as big as his body passed Tyre a plate of chicken.

“Whatever.” Isil shook her head, then turned to address the crowd. “Everyone, today is out last day together. Though it pains me deeply to make this speech, I feel that I would not fully be able to let this game go without some sort of closing ceremony. And thus, I am pleased to inform you that my novel, based on this game, has been accepted by August Publishing Company, and will be published by March of next year.”

A wave of surprised chatter moved through the crowd. While it wasn’t quite what they expected as part of the closing ceremony. But many were quite interested. They all knew their leader had a creative streak, but never thought she had actually went all the way with it in the real world. Everyone paid close attention to her next words.

“It is called… ‘Founding of The Endless’. As you can tell, the title is inspired by the game, while the story itself takes place a few hundred years before current events. It involves a much younger Exalia Union, back when it was simply a loose collection of tribes sharing a religion. However, the story also expands into the ancient Quintium Empire, the nation of Arrendara, the ruins of Falor, and even the thriving Nonpareil Plane. Follow Damien and Kel as they slowly become more and more tied in to the schemes of the powerful Divinity of Magic.”

“Now I didn’t write that part, just taking the words right off the back cover, but I’m fairly certain that you all will enjoy it. Also, of you want a free copy of it, you can email me with your guild information and address, and I’ll have a signed copy of it sent over. Thank me later when I become the new J.K Rowling.” Isil chuckled.

The table joined in on the laughter. Not everyone cared deeply about the book, but they could all feel the passion in Isil’s words. They could understand just how important it was to her. Isil smiled, then grabbed a wine glass. She then picked up an expensive bottle of champagne and filled the glass.

“Now, let us all have a toast. A toast to this wonderful game that has brought us years worth of long-lasting memories. A toast to all of you, who helped make this guild into what it is. Cheers!”

““““Cheers!”””” The crowd responded.

There was no real way to get ‘drunk’ in Endless Conquest, but there was a large array of debuffs that could occur with excessive drinking, some mimicking a feeling of drunkenness. But as a player increased their physical stats, it became harder and harder to become drunk. Meaning, to get all 53 max-level players drunk, the alcohol required would be enough to crush a normal person to death with sheer weight alone.

As the server shutdown rapidly approached, the breadth of Fallen Crescent’s liquor stores became apparent. All 53 players had received at least one alcohol debuff, many with more than just a few. One person actually had to excuse themselves from the table as their nausea was getting so bad. He came back after a few minutes to down an entire barrel of wine.

To many, the party was a blur. Alcohol in, words out. They all wanted to make their last minutes their happiest. In no time, the last minute arrived. A timer appeared in front of everyone’s eyes, instantly taking up most of their view. As soon as it appeared, any and all debuffs they had instantly disappeared. There was a moment of pause while everyone regained their bearings, then everyone became grim.

“It’s here.” Isil stated. “It’s been an honor.”

“Same,” A woman dressed in mage robes nodded. “I’m sure your book sucks, but I’ll give it a pity purchase when it comes out.”

“Shut up.” Isil chuckled lightly.

Isil returned to her chair, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. The timer remained in the center of her sight, despite the fact that she had closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled.

“I’ll be sure to make sure the book is dedicated to you all.” Isil muttered just loudly enough to break the silence. “To my friends from Fallen Crescent, thank you for inspiring me to make this book, and thank you for making me who I am today.”

“… I’ll miss you, Isil.” Tyre said, raising his glass.

“Cheers to that.” Another person spoke up.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“… Cheers.” Isil muttered, and the timer hit zero.

For a moment the world simply stopped. There was no movement, no sound, nothing. Then, in a flash of light, Isil saw her guildmates vanish. And out of the nothingness of feelings, she was suddenly overwhelmed with a flood of sensory information. Sounds and smells, the taste of the inside of her mouth, the feeling of her silken robes, and the bright light from the collapse of the server. Over all that, she heard the voice of an old man speak three words.

“Manifest. Summon. Endless.”

She didn’t know what they met, nor did she really think much of it. Amidst the sudden overflow of senses, she was vaguely aware of her own body – no, her own bodies. For a moment, she felt like she was in two different places at once. She couldn’t move either, but she felt what both of them felt. The clothes on her bodies, the temperature of the air, the sounds of parents shouting at each other. She felt something was distinctly wrong with that last one, but what little part of her mind that was still able to string together logical thought was busy freaking out.

Logouts, while disorienting sometimes, does not cause the same experience Isil was going through at the moment. Whatever was happening to her, it was something new.

But then, all of a sudden, it stopped. Isil returned to normal, sweaty and out of breath, but normal. She took a moment to calm herself, then reached for her forehead, where the VR helmet was. But when she put her hand down, she did not feel the familiar plastic curve, but rather her own forehead. ‘Did someone remove my helmet...’ Isil wondered to herself. She slowly opened her eyes, knowing from experience that the light would be blinding.

But there was no blinding light. There was no slowly spinning ceiling fan. There was no familiar lingering air freshener smell. There was not even the ever-present hum of electricity. She froze.

Since her last words in Endless Conquest, perhaps a few seconds had passed. Even with slow internet or sudden delay in shutdown, there should’ve been no problems logging out on time. The reality before her, was a spit in the face of that belief.

The banquet hall stood before her. The maids and butlers seemingly just as confused as she was, their mouths agape in shock, their eyes searching for in traces of those that had suddenly vanished. But wait, their AI shouldn’t be advanced enough to react like that when someone logged out. Isil leaned her head into her hand, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. But as she exhaled, she was shocked at the feeling of breath leaving her body.

It was too realistic. Far too realistic.

Surprisingly, in the face of all this confusion, Isil was completely calm. She felt like she was simply waiting at a bus stop while someone explained why the bus was going to be a bit late. It wasn’t her problem.

But then it hit her.

“Oh shit.” She muttered involuntarily.

In response to her words, every head within earshot, and even outside of it, turned to face her.

It was at this time, Isil was glad to have read a variety of novels in preparation for her own. She recognized what was happening. The game had become reality, and she was stuck in it. Most likely no way home, stuck in renaissance times, and most importantly…

… A man in a woman’s body.

It didn’t take a genius to realize she was fucked.