The light that swallowed Elias’s vision burned through the sky, bleeding into another horizon — and became the light refracting through Saiya’s eyes.

The plaza she woke in was quiet — unnaturally so.

Her eyes opened to the shimmer of light refracted through glass. The ground beneath her was smooth marble, inscribed with geometric runes that glowed faintly like veins.

She pushed herself upright, every movement deliberate, eyes narrowing at the crystalline skyline reflecting in her pupils.

She remembered booting the game. Then nothing.

No login screen. No menu. Just this.

A soft mechanical chime sounded behind her. She turned sharply — a floating orb, its surface mirrored, hovered a few paces away.

“Player identified,” it said in a placid voice. “Designation: Saiya.”

[ CLASS UNLOCKED: THUNDRÚN ]

The title pulsed faintly in her vision, projected like a HUD only she could see.

She blinked, muttering under her breath, “I didn’t pick that.”

It floated away.

Her jaw tightened. She watched the native civilians— or NPCs, she assumed — pass by in awe, reverence with serene smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

They bowed to her without curiosity, their steps perfectly timed, like a loop repeating on a rhythm only they could hear.

She exhaled slowly. “These NPCs are better than I expected.” she whispered.

“Guys?”

She glanced around, scanning the marble avenues, boots echoing softly against stone.

Her expression was unreadable—calculating the angles, mapping her surroundings.

Even without knowing the rules, she was already in control.

– TAKARA –

She woke to sound.

The low hum of voices. The gentle crash of waves.

Her body lay half-submerged in a shallow canal that wound through the lower district, its water glowing gold beneath the morning light.

Petals drifted across the surface like tiny lanterns, gliding past her reflection — a face she almost didn’t recognize.

She blinked slowly, her breath trembling.

Thin crystalline patterns glimmered along her forearms, tracing elegant paths across her skin like living tattoos. She lifted her hand; the light shifted with her pulse, refracting in delicate fractal shapes.

Around her, chaos was waking.

Dozens of players and natives stumbled through flooded streets, their voices echoing between marble walls. Some cried out for friends; others stared skyward, searching for meaning.

She waded out of the canal, water trailing from her crystal-lined fingers.

Her heart pounded, not from fear, but instinct. She spotted a collapsed player near a fountain — shaking, gasping, eyes wild with panic.

“Hey,” she said softly, kneeling beside him. “You’re okay. Breathe with me.”

Her voice steadied, calm cutting through confusion. Without realizing it, her hand moved to his shoulder — and light bloomed from her touch.

Warm, gentle light.

The player’s breathing slowed. His eyes widened in disbelief.

“You… you healed me,” he whispered.

She froze. “I—did I?”

She looked down. Her fingertips shimmered, light refracting into a faint halo that pulsed with her heartbeat.

A faint interface flickered before her eyes —

barely there, like a whisper across glass.

[ CLASS: GLASBJORN ]

INNATE ABILITY UNLOCKED

[ SUBSYSTEM ACTIVATION: CRYSTAL REBIRTH ]

She exhaled, standing slowly as her reflection rippled across the golden canal.

Her eyes swept the unfamiliar skyline — marble spires, drifting petals, the hum of a city that shouldn’t exist.

“Maybe they’re nearby,” she murmured, her voice carrying softly into the light.

– ISSAN –

He awoke, back against cold marble, dust swirling in filtered light. The architecture around him was pristine.

His glasses, cracked but intact, lay beside him. He slid them on out of habit, though his vision had already corrected itself.

“The game? Wasn’t I voice-calling a moment ago?”

The question formed, but no answer came. His memories ran up to the moment the headset booted… then silence.

A whisper flickered across his vision like code:

[ CLASS UNLOCKED: VolksArbiter ]

He stared at the text until it dissolved into dust. “Arbiter,” he repeated under his breath, tasting the irony. “Fitting.”

Around him, faint glyphs glowed across the floor—circles of language, When he reached toward one, it pulsed, rewriting itself in real time.

“Responsive systems. This world… isn’t running on game logic I recognize, impressive.”

The air hummed. Someone shouted in the distance—Saiya’s voice, sharp and commanding. Instinct pushed him toward it.

– ZENOBIA –

When she awoke, it was to silence.

The world was dimmer here — an underpass beneath the city, where lanterns flickered in pale blue light.

Her head throbbed.

Her vision swam in static. When it cleared, she saw rows of collapsed players around her, still unconscious, their breathing shallow.

Her pulse quickened. “Am I… the only one awake?”

She dragged herself to her feet, clutching a stone pillar for balance. The air smelled of metal and ozone.

Her reflection shimmered faintly in a puddle — shorter hair, same hollow eyes, but her pupils now faintly slit, feline and faintly luminescent.

A voice echoed faintly from nowhere and everywhere at once:

[ CLASS UNLOCKED: FERALIS ]

She flinched. “Feral?” Her laugh cracked — half panic, half disbelief. “Yeah… fitting.”

Her ears caught something before her eyes did — footsteps, distant, rhythmic.

Not human.

She crouched low behind a broken wall as something passed through the underpass — a towering construct of light and armor, faceless, patrolling like a machine running its endless route.

Its movements were fluid, rehearsed.

She held her breath. “It’s not looking for me. It’s just… doing its job.”

But even that thought came with fear.

“Uh, what’s its job? What if I'm the job it’s searching for. I need to leave.”

She waited until it was gone, then whispered to herself, a small mantra against the growing panic:

“You’re fine. You’re still you. Just… find them. Find the others.”

She stepped into the faint light leaking from the upper streets.

For a brief moment, the shimmering towers above reflected in her eyes — and the fear softened into something else: determination.

– MIRAI –

Back on the surface his pulse steadied as the noise of the plaza dulled to a distant hum — voices of bewildered strangers fading into the glow of morning light.

The morning light spread across glass bridges and spires that pierced the clouds.

He looked down at his new attire—half royal regalia, half wanderer’s armor, the cloth shifting like sunlight over water. His sword rested at his side, silver and black, impossibly balanced.

Each of them wore garments that shouldn’t have existed outside a dream — tailored not for function, but for who they were.

Every thread looked drawn from their souls rather than a wardrobe.

A flicker of red caught his eye — movement through the haze. A figure stood at the edge of the plaza, her posture sharp, every motion deliberate.

Saiya.

Her hair was white-silver with a red interior now, not dyed but alive, gleaming faintly with each turn of her head.

Across her skin ran thin crimson stripes, jagged and pulsing like dormant lightning veins — they glowed subtly whenever she breathed.

The faint static hum that followed her sounded almost like the world itself was exhaling through her.

“Saiya!” he called out.

“Took you long enough,” she said flatly, turning toward him. Her tone was cold, familiar, grounding. The faint scent of ozone followed her words.

He stopped beside her, a grin tugging at his lips. “You look—”

“Different?” she cut in. A faint smirk ghosted across her lips. “So do you.”

He smirked. “How sweet—you thought of me when picking your hair color.”

She blinked once, expression unreadable.

She glanced away, brushing a hand behind her neck. Ears flushing faintly pink

“I didn’t pick this.” she muttered. “Whatever. You can have that one.”

Takara appeared next.

Her limbs had fully crystallized—organic and translucent, glowing with shifting prismatic hues.

Her arms ended in living crystal up to the shoulder; her legs followed to the thigh, forming elegant heels that clicked softly on stone.

“They feel alive,” she murmured, flexing her fingers. “Like they’re breathing.”

Saiya eyed her, half-mesmerized, half-mocking. “Unfair. I get red scars. Yay.”

Takara laughed. “They suit you though.”

Zenobia emerged from a nearby archway, kimono, kimono pants, cloak drawn tight. Her pink-fused feline eyes glinted in the light; a pair of ears twitched atop her head. “It’s bright,” she whispered. “Too loud.”

“You’ll adjust,” Saiya said—gentle, not cold

Then Issan descended the marble steps—sleek dark armor trimmed in azure runes, cape trailing like liquid shadow. Scholar and knight in one.

“You’re all here,” he said evenly. “Good. Then it’s not a dream.”

The five of them stood together for the first time—silhouetted against Elysium’s towers, radiant and impossible.

For a breathless moment, none of them spoke.

The hum of the city filled the silence, a steady pulse like the heartbeat of a world just beginning.

Then Mirai broke it.

“Shit. Impressive stuff from Phoenix. Doesn’t even feel like a game.”

Saiya’s red stripes flared faintly as she turned her gaze to the horizon. “Fifteen years… guess it was worth it. But next time, maybe warn us about the muscle soreness.”

Issan adjusted his glasses. “It’s a strange feeling… but I can’t quite shake that I've been here my whole life.”

Takara nodded faintly “The air is…refreshing — I can feel it in my lungs.” she said.

Then the Central Spire began to stir.