The red troll dissolved, leaving a faint smell of sulfur and a faintly pulsing chest. Karlos watched it appear, his heart quickening slightly at the sight of the loot drop, something familiar in this strange and hyper-real landscape.

“Another win,” the mage remarked, flicking his staff casually to dispel the ashes lingering in the air. Despite his relaxed demeanor, his gaze on Karlos was intense, weighing. It wasn’t quite a pity, not exactly, but something with a similar edge—detached and complex, as though he was both impressed and a little unsettled.

The knight tilted his head slightly, his voice level but laced with a curious sadness. “You know, Flame Mage, it’s strange to see one of your kind here… in action.” His words seemed to hang in the air, thick with an unsaid emotion. “Most warriors with your kind of potential are trained and tempered over years, but you… Well, you were likely thrown in, unready, right?”

Karlos shifted, trying to keep his expression neutral. They know? Or at least they suspected he was from somewhere beyond, though they seemed to think of him as a kind of transitory figure, here to fulfill some mysterious purpose.

“I…guess you could say that,” he replied cautiously, his tone unreadable.

The mage chuckled, though it was more somber than mocking. “I figured as much. I’ve known other visitors like you, collab warriors, right? Fierce, otherworldly, each of you filled with impressive skill… but fleeting. Already half-gone.” He exchanged a glance with the knight. “It’s as if we’re fighting with a warrior that doesn’t exist.”

Karlos felt a strange pang at that. It was the same half-respectful, half-mournful tone he imagined people would use when talking about a ghost—like he was already a memory in their eyes.

“Tell me, Flame Mage,” the knight continued, not unkindly. “Do you ever wonder what will become of you here? Or…perhaps you already know.” There was a solemn kind of reverence in his gaze, as though he saw Karlos both as a hero and a shadow. “When this ‘event’ of yours ends, and you return to wherever it is you came from, you’ll leave nothing behind but an echo of your skill—a puppet shell, a silent remnant with no will of its own.”

Karlos blinked, alarmed. He’d used collab characters in his gameplay, and it had always been strange to revisit a character that wasn't supposed to exist anymore. How do the characters rationalize the characters that don't exist anymore fighting alongside them? It felt to him the same as a character that is dead fighting alongside them.

I guess he finally found out the answers to his questions. They became silent, soulless copies of the characters he’d once known, lingering as powerful but unthinking artifacts.

The mage seemed to read his expression and offered a faint, understanding smile. “It’s tragic, really,” he said quietly. “To fight alongside someone of your potential, someone who will fade away. The living ghost of a warrior with strength to match legends… yet destined to be forgotten by those you fought beside. The world will forget you, and what remains won’t even remember us. They’ll call it a myth we can summon, nothing more. Even those who were closest to you will see you as a tool—an empty shell of your former self.

The knight nodded solemnly. “It’s for the best, really. No sense in getting too attached.” He offered a rueful smile, though his eyes held a glint of admiration. “Still, it’s an honor to fight alongside you. Just know that if you fall here, we’ll remember you as one of the best—however briefly.”

Karlos tried to keep his face neutral, but inside, he was reeling. He wasn’t sure what felt worse: the idea that they saw him as a doomed visitor, or that they held him in such high regard only because he would soon be reduced to an empty shell. This world treated collaboration characters as legendary, destined warriors but also as inevitable losses—glorious and tragic, precious yet disposable.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

And he couldn’t shake the unsettling realization that maybe, just maybe, they were right.

Karlos stood there, the chill from the mage’s words settling into his bones. To these people, he was something between a warrior and a ghost, someone they’d recognize as powerful yet ultimately… hollow. The mage’s matter-of-fact tone about “losing his mind” unsettled him more than any monster he’d faced here. He might as well have said, When the clock runs out, you’ll just be a shell to us—a puppet with no will of its own.

It was surreal. In the world of the game, he had always seen collab characters come and go, summoned by players for brief events and vanishing afterward. But he’d never thought of it from the perspective of those living here. To them, the collab heroes were more like walking tragedies, warriors doomed to lose their souls once their purpose was fulfilled.

The mage watched him with a look that mingled awe and detachment. “I suppose it’s an honor,” he continued softly, “to fight alongside someone like you. Powerful, yes, but bound to fade away.” His voice held a quiet reverence, as though he was standing in the presence of a ghost who could still act and think but was inevitably fated to disappear.

The knight sheathed his sword, his expression caught between admiration and resignation. “You know,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Karlos as they moved on, “collab warriors like you… you’re legends in the making, but also reminders that nothing lasts. When we’re back in the capital, there are villagers who remember past visitors—collabs who came to help us only to vanish and return as empty shades. There’s even a pub where your kind gather to trade stories.” His gaze turned distant. “But after your event ends, the ones who stay here with us… they aren’t quite the same.”

Karlos felt the weight of their words, realizing they saw him as something halfway between a hero and a phantom—a relic that would lose its spark. They expected him to vanish one day and return as just another silent, obedient vessel, left to be used by players without memory or personality.

He forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “Well, guess I’ll just have to make an impression while I’m here, right?”

The mage chuckled, a sad, knowing sound. “That’s the spirit, Flame Mage. Make your mark, while you can. Just know that when the event ends… we’ll remember you, even if you forget us.”

As they moved on, Karlos felt a strange comfort in the way they saw him. It wasn’t quite pity, yet it wasn’t simple camaraderie either. To them, he was a warrior of immense potential, yet not truly one of them. They respected him deeply, but they were unwilling to get too close, as though he was already halfway gone.

And maybe, for now, that was exactly the cover he needed.

The mage, his expression softened by a flicker of genuine curiosity, fell in step beside Karlos as they moved toward the next chamber. “You know,” he began thoughtfully, “you’re not the first collab warrior I’ve had the honor of fighting beside. But each one is so… different. It’s as if each world shapes its champions in wildly unique ways.”

Karlos, still processing the weight of their assumptions, forced a nod. “Oh? Who else have you met?”

The knight chuckled from ahead of them, his armor clinking softly with each step. “Ah, let me tell you! I remember one—a towering woman from some world where everyone wielded swords as large as their own bodies. She had a way with her blade that felt almost like magic itself, and yet, she was as silent as a shadow.”

The mage leaned closer, his eyes shining with excitement. “She wasn’t alone, either. Came with a whole party—a trickster from a world that ran on gears and strange lights, and a healer who could pull power from something she called ‘the Great Tides.’ I remember them as clear as day, even though they’re gone now.” He sighed, looking wistful. “It’s strange. Each one feels so foreign, yet when they’re here, they seem like they belong… until they don’t.”

Karlos raised an eyebrow, intrigued in spite of himself. “Did you ever ask them about their worlds?”

The mage laughed, nodding eagerly. “Oh, you bet I did! I’m a student of magic, after all. One of them described a place where the stars themselves would grant magic to mortals. Another said that people in her world used something called ‘machines’ instead of magic. It’s fascinating, honestly.” He paused, glancing at Karlos with a mixture of admiration and caution. “I’d love to know what it’s like in your world, too… if it’s not a secret.”

The knight nodded. “I remember one who claimed to be a ‘God of Thunder’ from a realm called Asgard,” he added thoughtfully, adjusting the sword at his side. “Had a mighty hammer, could summon lightning at will. He left a strong impression, though he disappeared as all collabs do.”

Karlos’ pulse quickened. In their eyes, these collab characters were legendary figures, warriors from other realities that defied the natural rules of this world. As they swapped stories, Karlos began piecing together a broader view of the collab phenomenon. The other collab units had arrived with specific powers and distinct stories, often inspiring admiration and caution among those in this world.

The mage grinned, clearly relishing the memory of one such visitor. “There was one, a dark sorceress, who could summon creatures from shadows,” he said, leaning closer to Karlos. “She had this aura—like she was barely here, like one foot was still in her own world. Fascinating woman, but as her time waned, her mind started to… fade. She’d stare off into space, mumbling things we didn’t understand.”

“What… happened to her?” Karlos asked, forcing his voice to remain steady.