The banquet hall was alive with celebration, echoing with the joyous sounds of a grand event. It was a lavish affair, marking the coming of age of Nadia’s daughter, and every detail was curated to perfection. The hall, a vast expanse adorned with golden trim and glittering chandeliers, buzzed with the chatter of elegantly dressed nobles and distinguished guests from distant lands.
Tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous feasts—platters of spiced meats, exotic fruits, and decadent sweets—each dish more enticing than the last. The air was thick with the aroma of roasted delicacies and floral perfumes from the towering centerpieces that decorated the tables.
Musicians nestled in a corner strummed and piped lively tunes, their music weaving through the crowd, lifting spirits, and coaxing a few enthusiastic souls into a dance. Laughter pealed over the clinking of glasses as toasts were made in honor of the young woman whose transition into adulthood they were all gathered to celebrate.
The atmosphere was one of unbridled joy, a festive tapestry that draped over all attendees, binding them in a night of merriment. Each laugh, each note of music, added to the splendid cacophony that filled the grand space, making it a night to remember.
Across the room, Delilah noticed Damian, who seemed remarkably at ease compared to his usual stern demeanor. He was dancing with Saskia, both of them moving gracefully to the rhythm of a lively tune. The sight was unexpectedly touching; Saskia's laughter, free and genuine, echoed across the hall. "So that's why Saskia was so willing to help me" Delilah realized. It dawned on her that Saskia's actions were driven by more than just familial duty; she was in love with Damian, hoping to be a good sister-in-law.
Watching them, Delilah felt a mix of relief and responsibility. She alone carried the memories of what had transpired in all previous attempts—none around her, not even Damian or Saskia, could recall the events that she had navigated through time and again. It was a solitary burden, knowing the potential dangers and the roles everyone unknowingly played.
At that moment, from the corner of her eye, she noticed Isaac being discreetly led away by the guards. Earlier in the evening, she had subtly informed them of his plans, ensuring that his scheme to disrupt the celebration was thwarted before it could unfold. The guards, with a nod of understanding, had waited for the opportune moment to apprehend him without causing a scene.
Now, as they dragged him towards the dungeon, Delilah felt a pang of sadness for Isaac, yet she knew it was necessary to maintain the peace and safety of all those present.
"Lady Fernway, you seem distracted... is something amiss?" Thaddeus inquired, his tone laced with concern.
"I just need some fresh air" Delilah responded, her voice softer than intended. Noticing her discomfort, Thaddeus suggested, "Perhaps the terrace would offer some respite?" Together, they made their way to the secluded balcony overlooking the gardens.
Once they arrived, Delilah leaned against the railing, the cool night air enveloping her. "I'm cold" she murmured almost absentmindedly. Thaddeus, ever the gentleman, quickly shed his coat and draped it over her shoulders. While she slipped her arms into it, she sighed, "It's not enough."
Thaddeus looked slightly puzzled, his eyes scanning the surroundings for something else to keep her warm. Delilah watched him with a playful smirk and finally broke, "Are you that slow, or are you pretending not to know?"
"I'm sorry, Lady Fernway, but I don't know what you mean" Thaddeus replied, his confusion genuine.
"I'm seducing you, dummy" Delilah said with a chuckle, reaching for his neckwear, pulling him closer, and pressing her lips against his in a bold kiss.
Thaddeus's initial shock gave way to a flustered but eager response. His cheeks flushed with a mix of surprise and desire, hinting at his inexperience but also his deep affection for her. He looked as though he wanted more but hesitated, unsure of his next move.
But it didn't matter. Delilah took the lead, her confidence guiding them through the moment. They allowed the night and the magic of the banquet to envelop them, their shared laughter mingling with the distant music as they enjoyed the rest of the evening together, wrapped in each other's company.
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"Em, Emmmm... wakey wakey, sleeping beauty!" came the jovial voice of her dad, accompanied by the gentle knocking on her bedroom door. Outside, the chirping of birds filtered through the open window, mingling with the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle morning breeze.
Emily slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the soft sunlight streaming through her window. The familiar sights of her room greeted her: the walls adorned with posters and photographs, shelves filled with books and trinkets collected over the years, and her desk cluttered with sketches and notes. It was all unmistakably hers, the same as she had left it.
She was finally back home, back to the world she knew, back to her family.
A surge of relief and joy washed over Emily, and she threw back her covers with a burst of energy. She scrambled to her feet, rushing to open the door. The moment she saw her father, a wide smile spread across his face, mirroring her own elation. Without hesitation, Emily wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, the familiar scent of home filling her senses.
"Woah, looks like someone just had a nightmare?" her father remarked with a gentle chuckle, lightly patting Emily on the head as they broke from their hug.
"Yeah, it was a nightmare" Emily replied, her voice still carrying a hint of that distant turmoil as she clung to the comforting presence of her father.
"Well, I'm sure you'll feel better once you try today's breakfast, honey. It's mama's special mushroom soup" her father suggested with a warm smile, trying to lift her spirits with the promise of something familiar and comforting.
"Okay" Emily smiled back, feeling the normalcy of home begin to seep back into her bones. Together, they headed downstairs to the kitchen, where the rich aroma of the mushroom soup filled the air, reminding her of all the small, beautiful details of life she had missed.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
The long night of adventure and uncertainty had finally ended, and Emily could now enjoy the simple pleasure of being back with her family.
Yet, as she settled at the table and began to spoon the steaming soup into her mouth, part of her mind remained restless: What had really happened with the game? How did it happen, and most importantly, why her? She needed answers, and the only way to get them was to find out more about the company behind the game.
As her family chatted about ordinary things, Emily’s thoughts were already turning to her next steps. She knew she couldn’t let the matter rest—not only for her own peace of mind but to ensure that what happened to her wouldn’t happen to someone else. Once breakfast was over, she decided, she would start looking into the company, determined to uncover the truths hidden behind the virtual worlds that had so completely altered her reality.
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"Aghh..." Cedric gasped, the sound torn from his throat as he felt as if he was being pulled through a hole so narrow it might squeeze the life from him, it threatened to crush his very essence. His existence seemed to hang on the brink of oblivion.
The world around him spun wildly, disoriented and disjointed, each moment an unbearable eternity marked by excruciating pain. The system that governed the bounds of his reality was now consuming him, tearing him apart piece by piece.
He could feel each part of his body being ripped away into nothingness, a digital erasure so complete it seemed to promise the end of his very being. Another deep, involuntary grunt escaped him, a human sound in the midst of digital chaos.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain stopped.
Cedric found himself lying on the cold, hard floor of the unfamiliar realm. A chill wind greeted him, its icy fingers caressing his face with the haunting familiarity of an endless void. He was alone, save for the presence of the enigmatic shrine that had been both a beacon and a bane in his existence.
The realm was stark, an expanse of shadows and whispers, where the cold seeped into his bones as if welcoming him back to a place he could never truly leave.
As he lay there, gathering his strength, Cedric realized that his journey was far from over. The shrine stood silent, its ancient stones imbued with a power that seemed to pulse with a life of its own..
"Another death, another return" Cedric mused as he stared into the endless void around him. "I’ve lost a friend this time, but at least I managed to save someone else." His thoughts lingered on the tangled web of fate and sacrifice that had defined his existence since that initial catastrophic event.
But there was never a quiet moment for reflection; fate always had a way of presenting new twists. The shrine in front of him pulsed with a faint light, signaling the end of one chapter and the start of another. It felt like both a curse and a calling, an endless loop he was bound to follow.
Cedric sat up, his gaze fixed on the enigmatic shrine. More than twenty years had passed since his death in that explosion, yet he hadn't aged a day; time seemed irrelevant to him, suspended as he was between the various worlds he had traveled through.
"What do you want from me? How long must this go on?" he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the void. The shrine offered no response, remaining silent and indifferent. How could something that endowed him with such power and purpose ignore his pleas? Cedric pondered alone, frustrated by the lack of connection.
How could a shrine grant such profound powers yet remain deaf to his questions and calls for guidance?
Cedric let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. There wasn’t even time to mourn his friend, and his questions hung unanswered in the cold void. He didn’t want to continue this—didn't want to step into another world, attach to its people, and possibly witness their downfall. The path before him felt like a never-ending tunnel, and for a moment, he resisted the call.
He stood up and began to walk around aimlessly in the silent expanse, his steps slow, his heart heavy. Each step was a battle against the pull of duty. He glanced back at the shrine, desperation seizing him. "Maybe all of this is just a mistake!" he shouted at the cold stones. "I can't always save a life, what if I'm just making things worse?" His voice echoed in the void, filled with a raw edge of desperation, but just like before, the shrine offered no response, no sign of empathy.
In a fit of frustration, Cedric unhooked his sword and hurled it at the shrine. The clatter of metal on stone rang out sharply in the void, but still, nothing changed; the shrine remained silent and indifferent. This futile exchange continued for what felt like an eternity of Cedric raging against his fate, throwing whatever he could at the unyielding shrine.
But as his breaths grew heavy and his anger subsided, a new realization dawned upon him. Instead of feeling defeated, he should ensure that no other downfall would happen again in the future—this is what Brenon would have wanted him to do. With renewed purpose, he walked over to where his sword lay discarded on the cold floor. He picked it up, feeling its familiar weight in his hand, a reminder of his duties and capabilities.
He approached the shrine once more, this time with a sense of resolve. He read the name of the next world inscribed upon the ancient stone, waiting for the familiar gust of wind that would carry him to where he was needed next.
As he stood there, a last thought flickered through his mind—was he truly the guardian of all these protagonists, a sentinel across dimensions? Or was he just a wandering man, chasing after something he wasn’t even sure existed?
With a swirl of cold wind enveloping him, Cedric was taken away, his figure fading into the realm that called for him, leaving behind the shrine and the echoing questions of his purpose.
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"Haah..." the emperor gasped, his breath ragged as he slumped against the base of his throne. The room around him was a scene of chaos, the floor strewn with the bodies of both loyalists and rebels. He was surrounded, with only a few of his guards left standing, their faces etched with desperation and defeat.
"You've brought this upon yourself" one of the rebels said, his voice cold and unyielding as he stepped closer to the weakened ruler.
"I'll kill all of you rats, I swear" the emperor growled through clenched teeth, pain lacing his voice as he struggled to rise. His powers, once feared across the kingdom, were now drained; he was too exhausted to summon even a flicker of his formidable strength.
"We hope you rot in hell, you tyrant" another rebel sneered, stepping forward with his sword raised. The emperor, with nothing left but his pride, stared defiantly back, refusing to cower even in his final moments.
In that instant, the cold blade swept across his neck, a sharp slide of steel that was eerily quiet against the chaos of the room. His vision tilted, the world turning sideways—and then suddenly, he sprang up from his bed, gasping for air, his nightclothes drenched in sweat.
He sat there panting, his chest heaving with each rapid breath. Was that just a nightmare? It felt horrifyingly real, more visceral than any dream should be.
He glanced around his bedroom, noticing with a start that everything was far more organized than the usual disarray he had grown accustomed to over the past few months. Yet, despite the unfamiliar orderliness, there was no doubt in his mind that this was his bedroom. The furniture, the arrangement of books on the shelf, and the paintings hanging on the walls were all his.
Outside the window, sunlight streamed in, accompanied by a gentle breeze that played with the curtains—such a stark contrast to the sounds of civil war, the artillery fire, and the burning red sky that had been the backdrop of his life for the past few weeks.
Confused and a little alarmed, he swung his legs out of bed to investigate, but as soon as his feet touched the ground, he stumbled and fell. The bed was taller than usual, or had he shrunk? His heart raced as he looked down at his hands and feet—smaller, much smaller, like those of a child.
Scrambling to his feet with the agility of youth he hadn't felt in years, he rushed to the mirror across the room. The reflection staring back was that of a 12-year-old boy. It was him, unmistakably him, but as he had been decades ago. His younger self looked back at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"How is this possible?" he murmured, his voice high-pitched and unfamiliar. The reality of his room—the peaceful, childlike innocence of it—clashed violently with the vivid memories of war and leadership. Was he losing his mind, or had something inexplicable transformed him back to his childhood overnight?
In another wing of the expansive royal palace, the current emperor, father to the child who had astonishingly reverted to his youth, was deep in a strategic discussion. His chief advisor, a man known for his unwavering loyalty and strategic mind, leaned in close, his voice a discreet whisper. "Your Majesty, I believe it unwise to employ mercenaries of such unpredictable nature."
The emperor, burdened by the challenges his reign faced, exhaled a heavy sigh, his gaze weary yet determined. "Alaric has chase away everyone I've sent. At this point, I’m willing to hire just about anyone who can handle him. Leander!" he called out sharply, summoning a tall, commanding figure from the shadows of the room.
Leander, his demeanor as imposing as his stature, nodded briskly. "Escort this man to the crown prince's palace!" the emperor instructed.
As Leander led the mercenary through the opulent corridors, rich with the history and intrigue of the realm, he issued a cautionary note, "Just so you're aware, His Highness has a formidable temper and has dismissed numerous tutors and advisors already. Are you sure you're prepared for this role?"
Cedric turned to Leander. "Don't worry, I've seen much worse" he replied with an assured calm.