Author: Sunless Rain
Chapter 1 – Prologue
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Lucian awoke to the shrill sound of his alarm clock.
Today, though, carried a subtle excitement—different from the usual routine. It was his first official day as Assistant Director at the university, a promotion he had earned just a week ago after the retirement of his senior.
Later that evening, after a long day of meetings and paperwork, Lucian sat at his desk in the now quiet office,With a sigh, Lucian leaned back in his chair, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs. His back protested, and his fingers dug into his neck to relieve the tension.
"Damn… this is exhausting," he muttered, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs. "But fulfilling."
He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled softly.
"I've been grinding for nearly two decades to reach this point. Sure, I got here thanks to someone else stepping down—but it's not like I don't deserve it. What matters is I made it. Finally."
A glance at the wall clock reminded him that he wouldn't have time to linger in nostalgia.
"I guess this means no more Eryndor," he sighed. "The game's on life support anyway. I should pass the guild master role to Wrathatat or Dessaster. Not that they've been active lately. Still… Wrathatat's a professional gamer—he can handle it."
The demands of his real-world work and his pursuit of an academic career made him consider transferring the guild master title to Wrathatat. His new role would consume more of his time, making it difficult to remain an effective leader.
After work, Lucian returned home. Despite being in his early forties, he still lived with his mother. It wasn't out of dependence, but choice. He had never married, never imagined himself as a father. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He had dinner with his mother, exchanged a few quiet laughs, and eventually retreated to his room. After a moment of stillness, he stared at the familiar headset sitting beside his desk.
"One last time, I guess," he whispered..
Year: 2125 A.D.
The world had long embraced a new era of gaming—DMMO-RPGs.
The term stood for Dive Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game. These were immersive experiences that connected directly to the brain through a neural nano-interface—a fusion of cybernetics and nanotechnology. It allowed players to live inside their games, feeling everything as if it were real.
Among the countless titles that emerged, one stood above them all:
Eryndor.
Released in 2113, Eryndor had earned its place as the pinnacle of virtual gaming. Its core appeal? Unparalleled player freedom. With a thousand of basic and advanced job classes and hundreds of playable races, players had near-limitless customization.
On top of that, paid creator tools allowed full customization of armor, weapons, appearances, and even flavor text. In Eryndor, the only limit was your imagination—and maybe your wallet.
The game world of Eryndor was divided across nine realms—each distinct in purpose and design: Aetherion, Sylvaris, Verdelain, Durnkhar, Elandor, Gorngrad, Valkros, Noctheros, and Ignarok.
This scale, freedom, and aesthetic fueled what would be remembered as a stylistic revolution in gaming culture. For many, Eryndor and DMMO-RPG were synonymous.
"But that was long ago—12 years have passed since the release of Eryndor."
A golden glow welcomed him. A majestic throne room opened before his eyes, its ceiling arching high like the sacred halls of ancient churches. Giant chandeliers—brimming with magical gemstones—bathed the room in radiant color.
A familiar voice rang out.
"Welcome back to your Realm, Lord BURNING_ONES," said Akasha, the NPC.
Lucian—no, BURNING_ONES—nodded wordlessly and stepped forward. He ascended the steps and sat upon his throne at the center of the grand chamber.
He had returned.
Without wasting a moment, he summoned his system panel. His fingers moved instinctively, flicking through menus, eyes scanning the guild interface. He hoped—perhaps foolishly—that someone else might still be logged in.
He looked and saw
Dessaster online 9 minutes ago
BURNING_ONES exhaled through his nose and leaned back in the throne.
"If I'd logged in just a few minutes earlier," he muttered, "I could've caught Dessaster. We might've had a good chat…"
A faint smile touched his lips at the thought.
Dessaster. One of the original founders of Celestial Trium, along with Wrathatat. She wasn't just a guildmate—she was one of his closest friends, ever since their senior high school days. They had even ended up in the same university program—not by design, but by coincidence.While their careers took them in different directions, they had always found time to reconnect through Eryndor. In many ways, it was their shared world, their sanctuary.
Much like him, she had never married—not for lack of beauty or grace. In fact, back in her prime, she was former national pageant contender. The kind of woman who turned heads just by walking into a room.
But love? Love had never quite been kind to her.
It was an old joke between them, really.
"Unlucky in love, blessed in loot," she used to say, laughing while looting another boss drop. That truth, which began in their teenage years, had quietly followed her into adulthood.
And yet, despite everything—time, careers, missed chances—she was still here. Still logged in. That, more than anything, made BURNING_ONES' chest tighten with something that felt like nostalgia... and a little regret.
He closed the panel and stood up.
The grand throne room around him stood frozen in time—an eternal monument to a guild that once stood at the top of the world.
"I wonder if anyone else will log in tonight," he said aloud, though no one was there to hear it.
As he stood in silence, his gaze drifted toward the far end of the chamber—where the flags and insignias of all his guildmates hang above. Then there, standing still like a statue carved from moonlight, was Akasha.
Even now, she wore the same flowing, silver-gray robes and the soft, silk blindfold that concealed her eyes—just as she always had. The blindfold itself was embroidered with arcane threads, faintly glowing, as if pulsing to some ancient rhythm.
Despite her blindness, she stood with quiet poise—never lost, never faltering. She didn't need to see. She felt the world through magic, through soulbinding, through the code written by those who had given her life.
BURNING_ONES' chest tightened.
Akasha, the Blind Seer, was one of the most intricate NPCs ever created within Celestial Trium. And more than that—she was Dessaster's masterpiece. Built with the creative finesse of Jezzy Chi, who specialized in spiritual and psychic-type characters, Akasha wasn't just an attendant to the throne.
She was a memory.
"Damn... why am I getting emotional? It's not like I'm quitting," BURNING_ONES muttered under his breath, brushing his hand across the armrest of the throne. "I'm just passing the Guild Master title to Wrathatat. That's all."
But even as the words left his mouth, they rang hollow.
Deep down, he knew.
It wasn't just about stepping down—it was the slow, inevitable farewell. Eryndor was dying. The player base had been thinning for years now. The once-bustling cities now stood quiet, the auction houses rarely updated, the global chat reduced to sporadic flickers of life from the few veterans who still lingered.
Celestial Trium—his pride, his home, the peak of all their effort—was a fortress in the middle of a fading world.
No update would save them now. No patch, no revival campaign, no miracle. Only memories remained.
And soon, even those might vanish.
Still, he stared ahead, into the silence.
"Just a title transfer," he told himself again.
But letting go was never that simple.
He reopened his system panel—but his gaze drifted again, drawn not to menus or player logs, but to the burning hands at his sides.
They weren't ordinary hands. These were the gauntleted fists of a seraphim, wrapped in shimmering divine metal inscribed with sacred glyphs. Each finger radiated a soft celestial glow, dancing like molten gold beneath the armor. Flames licked across his frame constantly—not heat, but presence. An eternal fire that never faded, marking him as the one and only BURNING_ONES.
Standing at over nine feet tall, he was a colossus of holy wrath. His three pairs of wings, folded neatly behind him, pulsed with a light that shifted subtly through divine hues—silver, gold, and purest white. Behind them, floating majestically in concentric, slowly-rotating layers, hovered his triple-tiered halo: the Halo of Eternal Ascension. A Transcendent relic, one of the few soul bound relic in the entire game.
Resting casually against the dais in his right hand was Lord's Host, the colossal ethereal sword radiating an aura fiery red.and one of the three guild artifacts.
Despite its design as a sword, the Lord's Host—a Tier 5 divine-class item. Its true power didn't lie in its sharp edge that could slice through armor like butter, but in its ability to cut through dimensions and summon a host of angels of various classes and levels.
Eryndor's equipment was classified based on how much data each item contained. Items with more data were ranked higher. From the lowest to the highest rank, they were: Common class, Uncommon class, Rare class, Unique class, Legendary class, Mythical class, Arcane class, and finally, Divine class.
Most guild artifacts, or what most players referred to as their guild's ultimate weapons, were Tier 5 Divine-class items. Crafting a Tier 5 Divine-class item was extremely difficult and would require a significant amount of time, effort, money, and manpower to create even one.
As for how Celestial Trium was able to craft three such items with their composition of guild members, it's important to note that Celestial Trium members were not merely average players.
Most of Celestial Trium's members were successful and well-known in their respective fields of expertise. Like Dessaster, who had been a former model and national pageant contender; Bini a famous pop idol; and Jezy Chi, a somewhat well-known graphic artist. And others who are also successful in their own fields.
The guild spend a huge amount of time, effort, money, and even real world connections to create this guild artifacts.
As he continue osberving his character and reminiscing about the past, he somwhat realize he somewhat like— a god in a dying world.
Then suddenly a pop-up flickered. Wrathatat had just logged in. A moment of hesitation.
Then, he opened the message box.
To: Wrathatat
You still got time, old friend?
I need to talk. About the guild… and maybe more.
He sent the message, then leaned back in his throne, the weight of his legacy pressing down more than the armor on his shoulders.
He closed his eyes momentarily.
"Kzzzzt!"
A sound woke him up then suddenly heard a voice
"Lord BURNING_ONES"?
He opened his eyes in confusion as he heard an unfamiliar voice—no, it was familiar, but the words were not.
BURNING_ONES's eyes snapped open.
And he abruptly stood, scanning his surroundings.
The voice echoed again, louder this time:
Lord BURNING_ONES?"
His gaze sharpened, flicking toward Akasha, who stood still and unmoving by the dais.
He ignored her.
He tried to pull up the system panel—but nothing responded.
No sound.
No response.
No—there was no interface at all anymore.
Just the silence of the throne room… and his own breath.
A creeping sense of unease settled over him.
"System error?" he muttered.
He moved his hands into the force-exit gesture, but nothing happened.
Then he heard the familiar voice again—and before he could stop himself, he answered:
"Yes, I can."
His eyes widened.
The words had slipped out—pure instinct.
But then—he froze.
Akasha's tone… it was unnatural.
Yes, NPCs could communicate with players using advanced AI. But this?
For her to speak first… and in that tone…
There was something beneath her words.
Worry.
"Is there something wrong, LORD BURNING_ONES?"
He hesitated, then said,
"Nothing. I'm just lost in my thoughts."
Akasha nodded and smiled, returning to her original posture.
BURNING_ONES sat back down—deep in thought.
After a pause, he gave a command:
"Leave me. I want to be alone in the throne room."