Two little boys were playing on the ground. Their identical looks made it clear they were twins.
The children had the appearance of nobles, with golden hair and bright blue eyes.
A woman with the sa hair and eye color soon approached them.
"Mom, look! I made a sandcastle!" one of the boys exclaid.
"Hey, we did it together!" the other boy protested.
"It's beautiful. I knew you two would achieve great things together," their mother said, pulling both of them into a warm hug.
Arlon wondered if he was dreaming after the events of the black space. Then, he felt like he was being sucked into sowhere.
---
Arlon woke up in an unfamiliar bed. From the vials scattered around, he guessed he was lying on a cot in the corner of the Moonlight Potion Store. The faint scent of herbs and potions lingered in the air.
His head felt unusually light, as though it had never ached before. Checking the system, he realized it had been two hours since the servers reopened.
As he tried to shake off the sense that he was forgetting sothing, he heard the door creak open.
"Sir Arlon, you're awake! Thank goodness! I was worried, even though Sir Charon told not to be," said Shirl as she entered the room. "You suddenly fainted, and we had to carry you to one of the backrooms in the store."
"Miss Shirl, thank you for your concern. I'm fine. Is Sir Charon nearby?" Arlon asked, sitting up slowly.
"Yes, he is. I'll call him right away."
As Shirl left to fetch Charon, Arlon reflected on the strange events that happened after he fainted.
He had been pulled into a boundless black space, the kind of place that felt more like an endless void than a real location.
It was strange for more than one reason. First, he wasn't truly here in Trion—his physical body was inside a Zeno capsule on Earth.
The players had already logged in for the new week, and Arlon couldn't help but wonder: what would have happened if he'd needed to log out while his consciousness was trapped in that black void?
This was a completely new experience, one that hadn't occurred in his previous tiline. Still, he decided it would probably be fine.
After all, Earth and Trion existed in the sa universe. His consciousness would likely return to his body if anything happened. EVR wasn't so flawed as to leave a critical issue like that unresolved.
Realizing he wouldn't find an answer even if he mulled it over all day, Arlon decided to focus on sothing else.
Opening the system notifications, he finally checked the alerts he hadn't had ti to read before.
He had beco the first player to surpass level 100, and he was hoping for a fitting reward—perhaps even another title.
---
Zephyrion was swinging his sword in steady, powerful arcs.
He was on his training ground, but there was no one in front of him.
This was quite natural, no one was strong enough to train with him, at least no one among Trionians.
Instead, he visualized an enemy, training by fighting the phantom opponent in his mind.
Trion's rulers were chosen not only by strength but also by intelligence and Zephyrion exemplified both.
Actually, this visualized training was only possible thanks to his intelligence.
For ten minutes, he slashed at the air, rolled across the ground, and moved as though locked in battle. To an outsider, it might have looked like the antics of a madman. But for Zephyrion, it was an intense, calculated exercise.
When he finally stopped, his breath ca in heavy gasps.
"Here is your towel, Sir!" said a butler, appearing with a stack of towels.
"Thank you," Zephyrion replied, taking one.
Being a tiger Beastman, one towel was far from enough to dry him. His imposing figure, with its sharp features and massive fra, often intimidated those eting him for the first ti.
His piercing eyes seed to stare straight into the soul of anyone who dared et his gaze, and his sharp canines were visible even when his mouth was closed.
Yet despite his formidable appearance and love for combat, Zephyrion was calm and asured. He was no re brute; he was intelligent, with a mind honed as sharply as his blade.
After finishing his physical training, he headed for the library to exercise his intellect.
After a shower, he donned his reading glasses—a sight that often amused others, though he avoided wearing them in company. The scar above his right brow seed far less nacing with the glasses perched there.
Sitting at a desk, he opened a book about swordsmanship and magic. Yet as he read, his thoughts wandered to a pressing issue: the traitors of Trion.
He understood their plight. Most had betrayed their people not out of malice but because the Keldars had threatened their families and loved ones.
A total of 57 suspects had been arrested in connection with the Keldars' monster-raising operation. Zephyrion couldn't simply pardon them outright—doing so would undermine the authority of the governnt and set a dangerous precedent.
But punishing them without considering their circumstances felt equally unjust.
The real tragedy lay in the fate of their families, who, despite being used as leverage, had already been killed by the Keldars.
One of his advisors suggested publicly announcing the deaths of those families. The reasoning was simple: if people knew their loved ones would be killed regardless, they might resist the Keldars' threats.
Zephyrion, however, rejected the idea.
First, such an announcent would demoralize the Trionians, casting a shadow over the governnt's ability to protect its citizens.
Second, it would undermine trust in the governnt, painting them as powerless to safeguard their people.
Finally, it risked playing into the Keldars' hands, giving them ammunition to spread propaganda and sow further discord.
For now, Zephyrion decided to set this problem aside and focus on the imdiate issues: the upcoming tournant and the Keldar threat in Istarra.
He felt a deep unease about leaving such a significant matter unresolved but knew he needed more ti to find a solution.
For now, the best course was to strengthen their forces by raising an army of saviors.
---
Charon was busy tending to the steady stream of players shopping in his store.
The cramped shop was filled to the brim, as it was the only potion store in Istarra.
Although the potions the players used could be easily crafted by any alchemist, none dared to set up shop in the sa town as Charon. He was, after all, the best alchemist alive.
Shirl was assisting him in the store, having nothing better to do. However, she had gone inside to check on Arlon and hadn't returned yet.
Charon's thoughts drifted to Arlon for a mont. When they first t, Arlon had been a re level 1 warrior.
Yet, in an uncharacteristic manner for Trionians, Arlon had leveled up at a speed akin to the saviors.
There was just one problem: Arlon had arrived before the saviors. Well, not quite—he had shown up in Istarra just a day before they did.
Still, Charon was certain now. He had heard of the level 99 savior, and it all clicked into place when Arlon first walked into his store.
"I knew it!" Charon had thought to himself at that mont.
After Arlon fainted, Charon couldn't help but investigate further. He discreetly asked other players about the number one savior's level on the days Charon had seen Arlon.
He was comparing the number one savior's level progression to Arlon's—an intriguing parallel.
Charon didn't plan to reveal anything if the boy wanted to keep his secret, but he couldn't help but wonder how Arlon had managed to bypass the gods' system.
Then, Charon's thoughts turned to an old friend.
That friend was no re mortal anymore. His strength was such that just hearing his na had been enough to make Arlon faint.
Of course, Charon suspected there was another reason for the fainting, but the mory unsettled him all the sa.
Charon turned to the mirror in his store and studied his reflection.
In Trion, the blessing allowed a person to see others' levels—provided the viewer's level was higher. If the viewer was of a lower level, they would see only "???" in place of the other's level.
When looking in a mirror, Trionians could see their own level displayed above their heads.
But for Arlon, it was different. Every ti he looked in the mirror, all he saw was "???" floating above his reflection.
It was no blessing, but a curse—and one crafted by Charon's old friend.
Before he could think more deeply, Shirl ca in, notifying him that Arlon had woken up.
---
"You have leveled up. You gained 3 CP." This was the first notification Arlon received. It seed Charon had essentially rewarded him with experience points for completing a quest.
NPCs granting XP as quest rewards was standard in other gas, but Arlon hadn't thought it possible in Trion. After all, this was reality, not a ga, and there were no actual NPCs here.
The next notification read:
"Congratulations! You are the first to reach level 100. Most of the Trionians will know your na, but all the Keldars will also know your na."
This was both a blessing and a curse. Arlon wasn't particularly concerned about fa, but being widely recognized could work to his advantage when visiting unfamiliar places in this tiline.
Before he could examine the final notification, a new one appeared, catching him off guard:
"Global Event! The player tournant will start in one week's ti in Istarra."
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