2170 October 11 — 6:57 AM

A melodic alarm chimed softly.

Eyes blinked open, slow and heavy, revealing a room tinted pink by the dawn.

Floating shelves lined the walls, stacked with magical-girl figures and neatly arranged plushies.

Sunlight filtered through the translucent ceiling, painting everything in gentle gold.

“Miss Tsukihara, this is the tenth alarm you’ve set. Shall I snooze it?” The house AI’s voice was warm, polite — almost smug.

Saiya didn’t answer. For once, the room was still. No guild calls. No tournament pings. No chatter from the outside world. Only that fragile silence before the flood.

Her phone buzzed again on her nightstand. She groaned, grabbing it, and squinted at the endless notifications piercing into her eyes.

At first, her brow furrowed. Then, despite herself, she stifled a laugh.

“Why do I put up with this idiot,” she muttered, smiling faintly.

She swung her legs out of bed and padded over to her desk. Her monitor blinked to life, casting a cool glow across the pink walls. Dropping into her gaming chair, she opened the group chat.

[ Sephoric — The Very Cool Chat [545 Wins · 0 Draws · 70 Losses] [Power Ranking: #10]

xSaiya: Ping me again and I’ll have Gravity install a rootkit on your computer.

mirai-rai: rise and shine! join the call asap!

Takarazumi: Morning.

Issan_Eternal: Already online. Stream countdown’s ticking.

ZenbyStarLight: Sorry I overslept. I’m up! ]

Saiya leaned back, rubbing her temples with an exasperated sigh that couldn’t quite hide her amusement.

“Children,” she murmured, before clicking join call.

Click.

“Yo,” Mirai said first, his voice casual but buzzing with energy.

The others chimed in soon after — Takara’s calm greeting, Issan’s low “morning,” and Zenobia’s quiet hello that barely cut through the chatter.

“This is already looking insane,” Mirai said, his grin almost audible through the mic. “Check the stream numbers—holy—”

Saiya leaned closer to her monitor, eyes flicking across the screen. “Forty-five million viewers?!” she practically shouted. “That’s before the premiere even starts?!”

Mirai whistled, leaning back in his chair lazily. “Fifteen years of silence and now they’re finally showing something real.”

Takara smiled from her desk, the faint glow of the holographic screen lighting her face. “Square Phoenix knows exactly what they’re doing. Everyone’s been waiting for this since Frontier’s last update.”

Mirai laughed “That comment section got obliterated by people asking where this game was at.”

Issan adjusted his glasses, his tone level but edged with curiosity.

“And for good reason. They’ve patented five different neural sync technologies in the last decade, you can’t really hide that from the public eye. Whatever they’re unveiling… it’s not just a game anymore.”

Zenobia hugged her knees up to her chest in her chair, eyes reflecting the shifting colors of the pre-stream animation.

“It’s kind of surreal,” she whispered. “All of us waiting together like this. It feels… nostalgic — I don’t know why.”

Saiya huffed through her nose, though a faint smile lingered. “Don’t get sentimental. It’s just a trailer.”

Mirai grinned. “You’re blushing, Commander.”

“I will uninstall your life, Mirai.”

Takara’s quiet laugh broke the tensioN. “Play nice, you two. It’s starting.”

The pre-stream ticker dropped to 00:10.

Across five different rooms, five sets of eyes locked on their screens.

9...

Mirai leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Ohh shit, let’s go.”

8...

Zenobia’s breath caught.

7...

Takara clasped her hands together, whispering, “Finally.”

6...

Issan muttered, “History in the making.”

5...

Saiya’s fingers hovered near her keyboard, poised like she was about to enter a battlefield.

4, 3, 2, 1—

The stream flickered once — then the screen went black. The live chat was moving faster than the eye could process.

A heartbeat echoed.

Then the logo: “From the creators of FRONTIER.”

Thud.

Thud.

The sound deepened, pulsing louder — until it filled every headset, every room.

A calm, feminine voice spoke through the darkness.

“This world was never built to last.”

A soft light flared across the screen. The black gave way to a crimson sky — torn and vast, its horizon stitched with broken towers and drifting ruins.

The camera swept low through fields of glass and ash, where petals scattered upward instead of falling down.

A lone figure stood at the center of the ruin — a woman in shattered armor, her breath shallow, her blade cracked and glowing faintly blue. The sound of wind, the echo of prayers long forgotten.

Her thoughts bled into the scene — faint, quivering:

“It was supposed to be a test…”

Takara sat up slightly, her brow knitting. Something about that line hit too close.

“Why? I couldn’t save anyone. Every hope turned to ash. There is no peace here. Why struggle?”

The camera panned.

A towering silhouette loomed above her — blurred, monstrous, eyes burning like twin stars.

Her scream tore through the air—

SMASH.

A colossal fist came down.

The screen cut to black.

Silence. Then—

A voice rang out, rich and maternal, but laced with severity:

“Mortals cling to illusions of safety. But fate demands they face the storm.”

Saiya’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“…Okay? What?”

No one answered.

The music swelled — haunting, melodic.

It climbed in intensity, an eerie symphony that crawled into the spine as the screen lit up with a montage:

> A masked figure sprinted through temple ruins, daggers glowing like comets. A cultist lunged. Blades clashed.

> A marble city glittered under morning light; shadows twisted beneath its canals.

> Floating towns drifted across pastel skies as bandits and cloud beasts clashed midair.

The montage accelerated:

• Fists collided in brutal, hand-to-hand combat.
  
  
• A lone warrior charged an arena beast, their roar shaking the stands.
  
  
• A mage ignited a cavern with spirals of fire and frost.
  
  
• A sniper twisted mid-air, loosing arrows as debris collapsed around them.
  
  

Cryptic voice lines cut through the chaos:

“The relic’s power isn’t for mortals to wield.”

“They’ll burn it all, if it means keeping us in line.”

“You’ll wish you had stayed behind.”

A colossal winged creature burst from the clouds, luminous wings spanning the horizon.

Mechanical constructs clung to its body like parasites on a god.

“Yo, this looks insane!” Mirai breathed.

Then the pace slowed.

An artifact pulsed on a pedestal like a heartbeat.

“Everything has a price. Will you pay it?”

Cut.

A darkened draconian humanoid figure appeared — unstable, roiling energy, eyes burning twin-star bright.

It didn’t move.

But its gaze met the screen.

WHITE.

Then darkness.

A deep voice echoed in every mind:

“Your triumph… or your doom… either way—your world will change.”

The logo flared, molten and divine.

CodeName: FNL / Legacies eNd.

Silence.

For a long moment, no one breathed.

Takara finally spoke, her voice small but sharp. “Interesting…”

Issan tapped his chin, analytical even in awe. “They’re leaning into darker tones this time. Trending, but unexpected for the F-series.”

Mirai exhaled with a grin, the glow of the monitor reflected in his eyes. “Unexpected? It’s perfect.”

Saiya leaned forward, irritation creeping into her voice.

“Looked good and all, but only story stuff?! Where’s the gameplay—the combat—the movement?! We got lore-dumped!”

Mirai shrugged. “Hey, the sky bird looked cool.”

Zenobia fidgeted in her seat, clutching her sleeves. Her voice was quiet.

“…It felt off. Didn’t it?”

Before anyone could respond, the presentation resumed.

The screen cut to a new scene: a sleek stage drenched in light.

A man stood beneath it — sharp suit, silver tie, immaculate hair. His voice was calm, steady, confident.

The name tag at the bottom read: SHIRO – Lead Developer, Square Phoenix.

“Good evening,” he began, a smile practiced but sincere. “We hope you enjoyed your first glimpse into what’s to come.”

The camera pulled back. Floating holograms surrounded him — moments from the trailer suspended midair, looping like living memories.

“F-N-L is not just a game,” Shiro continued. “It’s a journey. An experience we’ve poured our very essence into. A world that challenges your limits… but welcomes you in.”

The feed shifted — fast, sharp, exhilarating.

Chain combos. Midair dodges. Spell clashes.

Cinematic takedowns.

“Combat? Refined. Movement? Seamless. And as for visuals…”

He turned to the side. A new scene unfurled:

An ethereal forest glimmering under moonlight.

A collapsing city suspended in stasis magic.

“All powered by our brand new, innovative, proprietary A-Engine. This isn’t a render — it’s immersion, rebuilt from the ground up.”

Saiya’s eyebrow twitched. She looked impressed but refused to show it, arms folded tight.

“We’ve waited fifteen years to reach this moment,” Shiro said, his tone softening.

“And now, we’re proud to announce: F-N-L launches worldwide on October 13, 2170, at 7:00 PM. Two days from now. The wait is finally over. Your next adventure begins.”

The logo returned.

Black screen.

One final line read:

PREORDERS OPEN NOW.

Chaos erupted.

[Live chat — Global Premiere Stream — 65.6M]

[ > HOLY HELL that trailer???

> i got chills when she screamed

> “your world will change” THEY DID NOT JUST SAY THAT

> this music feels religious wtf

> stop calling it a “game” this is an EXPERIENCE

> bro i’m at WORK and i’m crying

> watch it be an MMO again lmao

> nah this looks too real

> too real. ]

The chat accelerated until it became unreadable, a stream of emotes, and pure cultural meltdown.

Saiya leaned back, eyes wide. “I’m gonna piss myself!”

“Ew,” Mirai muttered, already navigating to the site.

“You’re on your own there,” he laughed as his monitor flashed an error. “Aand the site’s already down. Classic.”

Issan adjusted his headset slightly. “To reveal the most anticipated game in history and then drop the release date less than forty-eight hours later… bold strategy.”

“With how long everyone waited I think it’s warranted,” Mirai said. “But their servers? I can smell the smoke from here.”

Saiya didn’t respond. Her fingers were a blur, hammering her keyboard as she refreshed the page again and again.

“Stupid,” she hissed. “Stupid launch. Their servers should’ve been reinforced to survive a goddamn asteroid!”

Zenobia squinted at her own browser. “I think I got through?” she said hopefully. Then, with a soft deflate, “Oh, never mind. Error again…”

“Zenobia, you’re cursing the queue.” Saiya snapped.

Issan gave a dry laugh. “Perhaps this was the real test all along. Survival of the fastest clicker.”

“Years of training led to this,” Mirai said solemnly. “Flash sales. Midnight releases. Early access demos. All of it.”

Saiya glanced at her screen, jaw clenched. “Your training sucks. You’re still locked out. Shut up.”

Zenobia stifled a laugh.

Takara, quiet until now, leaned her chin into her hand, watching the chaos with a tired smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you all this desperate,” she said, voice warm.

Saiya glared. “This game’s development time is older than some of this community. This is desperation.”

Takara chuckled. “It’s cute… but I’ve been waiting for this moment. I have a surprise.”

Everyone froze.

Screens lit up with curiosity.

Takara held up a confirmation code, smiling faintly.

“Since I knew this trailer was dropping well in advance… I placed my order last week. Got one for all of you, too.”

Silence.

Mirai blinked. “…Wait. You what?”

Saiya’s lips parted in awe.

Issan stared, for once at a loss for words.

Takara shrugged, calm and bright. “Five units. Standard edition — the only one they’re selling. All secured, all paid for.”

“Takara—” Mirai started, still processing.

Saiya’s jaw dropped. “No way. Seriously?”

She smiled gently. “Consider it an early farewell gift. Our last year together deserves something unforgettable, doesn’t it?”

Zenobia sniffled, tears threatening to overwhelm her.

Their joy faded into the hum of their monitors — faces glowing faintly in the dark.

Outside, the world carried on — unaware that, in two days, none of them would ever see it the same way again.

[THREAD] FNL Trailer Analysis

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User: ArdentTheory

> The “woman in armor” is def the protagonist or a player avatar.

> “It was supposed to be a test” = tutorial gone wrong?

> And that thing at the end has to be a boss — look at those twin-star eyes.

User: lofiJunkie

> Wait, you can see eyes? I thought those were suns??

> Either way, that last line — “your triumph or your doom.” Ice.

User: BrightFury

> If the dev team nailed this tone in gameplay, this’ll be the greatest MMO of all time