Time Skip: One Month After Launch (One Year In-Game)


    The Shadowed Vale stretched before Kyle, a desolate expanse where the dusky skies bled in muted reds and bruised purples, casting an eerie, suffocating pall over the jagged terrain. Shadows coiled and slithered like restless predators, their movements unnatural, as though imbued with a sinister awareness. He adjusted the gauntlets on his hands, their spectral surface pulsing faintly, the glow more haunting than reassuring. The weight of his Mirrored Revenant class was no longer an anchor but an extension of his will—a transformation far removed from the trembling uncertainty of the player he had been a mere month ago.


    He could still remember those early days—a month ago, in-game terms—when every movement felt foreign. Gestures meant to summon his Revenant’s abilities had been awkward and stilted, his strikes too slow to land against even the weakest foes. Now, his hands moved with practiced ease, the ethereal gauntlets responding to every flick of his wrist as though they were extensions of himself.


    Behind him, his guild readied themselves, their silhouettes cutting sharp against the crimson haze.


    “Kia, Mia, stay on the flanks,” Kyle ordered. The twins exchanged a knowing grin, their twin blades gleaming as they spun them with ease.


    “Gareth, up front. We’ll need your shield if things get messy.”


    The grizzled tank rolled his shoulders, his armor clanking in protest. “If this shield had a tongue, it’d charge you rent for how often it saves your ass.”


    “Mason, keep an eye on the rear. Styles—just… do your thing.”


    “Thing’s already done,” the rogue quipped from the shadows, a dagger spinning lazily between his fingers.


    Kyle’s focus lingered on the shadows, which seemed to stretch and flicker unnaturally. “Let’s move,” he said, shaking off the unease.


    Their destination loomed ahead, a skeletal ruin clawing at the ashen sky, its shattered spires barely visible through the ghostly mist that clung to the air like a living thing. The structure exuded a suffocating sense of foreboding, its jagged edges and gaping voids whispering of forgotten horrors. Somewhere within, the artifact awaited—an object steeped in the tangled roots of Eidolon’s origins, its secrets veiled in malice and dread. The path was fraught with unseen dangers, but for Kyle’s team—hardened by the relentless trials of the Shadowed Vale—it was another perilous step deeper into the abyss


    As they neared the ruin, the mist thickened, curling in unnatural patterns that seemed to recoil from their presence. Then, from the shifting haze, a figure materialized—a tall, robed NPC whose glowing silver eyes pierced through the gloom like twin beacons. His presence was otherworldly, the air around him heavy with a palpable weight that stilled even the faintest sound. The robes he wore flowed and twisted like liquid shadow, never settling, as though they harbored secrets too dangerous to reveal.


    This was Kaelith, the Fateweaver—a name that had surfaced in scattered fragments of lore, always shadowed by whispers of calamities and cryptic prophecy. There was an inevitability about his presence, as though he had been waiting for them long before their journey began.


    When he spoke, his voice was measured, but each word carried an undertone that felt like the tolling of distant bells. “The shadows here are not what they seem. You believe you walk a path of your own making, but it is they who guide your steps. Always, they have.”


    Mia frowned, her brow furrowing as she glanced at her twin. “What’s that even supposed to mean?” Her voice wavered slightly, betraying a flicker of unease.


    Styles let out a nervous chuckle, though it lacked his usual bravado. “NPCs are getting way too good at creeping me out,” he muttered, his fingers tightening around the hilts of his daggers as if the steel could shield him from the weight of Kaelith’s words.


    Kaelith’s glowing silver eyes bore into Kyle, unblinking and relentless. “You lead them,” he intoned, each word dripping with a chilling finality, “but do you truly understand where you are going? The Rift Unseen stirs beneath you, its hunger eternal. Beware the cost of your curiosity—some doors, once opened, cannot be closed.”


    The air seemed to grow heavier, pressing against Kyle’s chest like an invisible vice. His stomach churned, and for a brief moment, he questioned whether he could trust his own footing in this cursed place. But he swallowed hard, forcing his voice to remain steady. “We’ll take our chances.”


    Kaelith tilted his head, his gaze sharpening as though dissecting Kyle’s very soul. Then, with the faintest incline of his head, he whispered, “So it begins.”


    As his words faded, the mist around him surged, swallowing his form completely, leaving only the lingering echo of his warning and the suffocating stillness of the Vale. For a long moment, no one spoke.


    “Okay,” Mason finally said, his voice tight. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really starting to hate this place.”


    The group barely had time to process Kaelith’s warning before the shadows around them began to writhe, twisting and coiling like serpents preparing to strike. A guttural screech tore through the mist, freezing the air in their lungs as hulking, spectral creatures burst forth—jagged claws glinting like razors and glowing red eyes seething with unearthly rage.


    “Positions!” Kyle barked, his voice cutting through the rising panic.


    Chaos erupted. Kia and Mia wove through the melee, their movements a deadly dance as they struck with precision, their blades flashing like silver lightning. A beast lunged for Mia, claws raking through the air, but Kia intercepted with a desperate parry, the clash sending sparks flying. “Focus, Mia!” she shouted, her voice strained as another creature closed in.


    Gareth braced himself against the tide, his shield groaning under the weight of relentless blows. “Little help here!” he roared as a beast’s claws raked his armor, sending him staggering back. He countered with a savage swing of his mace, crushing the creature’s head in a shower of black ichor, but another was already upon him.


    “Mason, buffs—now!” Kyle shouted.


    “I’m on it!” Mason yelled, his hands glowing as he cast a shield just in time to deflect a beast’s deadly swipe aimed at Gareth’s exposed side. The hulking tank nodded his thanks and slammed his shield forward, sending the creature skidding across the ground.


    Styles was a blur, weaving between beasts with ghostlike agility. A shadow beast leapt at him, jaws snapping, and he ducked low, its claws grazing his hood. He retaliated with a dagger to the throat, spinning away as the creature crumpled. “You’re all too slow!” he taunted, but his grin faltered as another beast erupted from the mist, nearly pinning him to the ground before Kyle’s spectral clone intercepted with a flash of steel.


    Kyle activated his Mirrored Revenant ability, spectral doubles springing to life at his sides. They flanked the creatures, their ghostly blades carving through the fray in perfect synchronization with him. But the beasts were relentless, their claws slicing through one of his clones with a hiss of dissipating energy.


    The ground trembled as a massive shadow beast emerged from the ruin, its form towering over the others. Its feral roar sent shockwaves rippling through the mist, momentarily paralyzing the guild. The creature’s claws dug furrows into the earth as it charged, its glowing eyes locking onto Kyle.


    “Kyle, move!” Gareth shouted, hurling himself forward to intercept the charge. The beast’s claws raked across Gareth’s shield, the impact throwing him back with a bone-jarring crash. Blood trickled down his brow, but he forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth. “I’ll hold it—just finish it!”


    “Focus fire!” Kyle commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos.


    The team rallied. The twins slashed at the beast’s legs, their strikes relentless but dangerously close to its snapping jaws. Mason laid down traps, their magic sparking as the creature’s movements slowed, its legs entangled in glowing runes. Styles appeared behind it, a blur of motion as he plunged his dagger into the beast’s flank, but its enraged thrash sent him sprawling.


    Kyle lunged, his clones mirroring him, striking at the beast’s exposed chest. The creature roared, swiping wildly, its claws missing Kyle by inches as he darted back. “Now, finish it!” he yelled.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Styles recovered, his eyes narrowing as he leapt onto the beast’s back, driving his dagger into the base of its skull. The creature let out a final, deafening shriek, its form collapsing into writhing shadows before dissolving entirely.


    The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ragged breaths of the guild. Gareth leaned heavily on his shield, his armor dented and streaked with black ichor. Mason’s hands trembled as he dispelled his last rune. “Tell me that’s the last one,” he muttered.


    Kyle’s gaze lingered on the ruin, unease prickling at his skin. “For now,” he said, though the flickering shadows around them hinted otherwise.


    As the group caught their breath, Kyle noticed the shadows flickering at the edges of his vision, twisting unnaturally as though alive. They seemed to stretch and retract with an unsettling rhythm, shapes forming and dissolving too quickly to name. Kaelith’s warning echoed in his mind, coiling in the back of his thoughts like a whisper he couldn’t ignore.


    Mason broke the silence, his voice low and wary. “Anyone else notice… things getting weirder? NPCs acting off, areas that feel like they’re rewriting themselves?”


    Kyle nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the mist-shrouded terrain. “It’s not just here,” he said, his voice tense. “I’ve heard whispers—players talking about glitches. Shadows where there shouldn’t be any. Events triggering without reason. It’s almost like… the game is watching.”


    For the first time, Gareth’s confident facade cracked. He adjusted his dented shield, his eyes flickering with unease. “You think this is more than a game?”


    Kyle didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.


    The group pressed forward, their footsteps heavy against the cracked and crumbling ground leading into the ruins. The air grew colder as they approached, and the mist thickened until it clung to them like a second skin. The ruins loomed ahead, a fractured monument to some long-forgotten age. Its walls were jagged, stained with an unnatural blackness that pulsed faintly, as though alive.


    “Stay close,” Kyle ordered, his voice firm despite the rising tension. He led the way into the structure, their footsteps echoing unnervingly in the hollow silence. The interior was labyrinthine, the air thick with a damp, metallic scent. Faint glyphs glowed on the walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to ripple as the group moved.


    “What the hell is this place?” Styles muttered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. His usual bravado was tempered by the oppressive atmosphere.


    Kia ran a hand along the glyphs, her fingers pulling back sharply as the glow flared beneath her touch. “It’s reacting,” she said, her voice trembling. “To us.”


    They ventured deeper, their path lit only by the faint, sickly glow of the glyphs. The corridors seemed to shift around them, passages narrowing and twisting without warning. More than once, Mason swore he saw a door where none had been seconds earlier, only for it to vanish when they looked again.


    Then they reached it—a chamber at the heart of the ruin. The air here was colder still, so heavy it felt like it might crush them. At the center of the room stood a pedestal, and atop it rested the artifact: a jagged, crystalline shard encased in faint, pulsating light. The shard seemed to hum, its sound low and resonant, vibrating in their bones.


    Kyle approached cautiously, his hand hovering over the artifact. “This is it,” he whispered.


    “Careful,” Gareth warned, his voice steady but tense. “If it’s glowing, it’s probably cursed.”


    Styles snorted nervously, though his grip on his daggers tightened. “Aren’t they all?”


    As Kyle’s fingers closed around the artifact, the room erupted in motion. The shadows at the edges of the chamber surged inward, solidifying into monstrous forms. The air filled with a deafening screech, the creatures’ glowing red eyes locking onto the group.


    “Ambush!” Kyle yelled, spinning to face the nearest threat.


    The battle was brutal, the creatures faster and stronger than any they had faced. Kyle’s Mirrored Revenant ability was pushed to its limit, spectral clones darting around the chamber in desperate attempts to outmaneuver the beasts. Gareth’s shield was battered, cracks spidering across its surface as he fought to hold the line. The twins moved like a whirlwind, their strikes precise but strained as the creatures pressed harder.


    Mason’s magic flickered as his energy waned, his protective shields barely holding against the creatures’ relentless attacks. “We can’t keep this up!” he shouted.


    Kyle gritted his teeth, clutching the artifact tightly. It pulsed in his hands, sending a jolt of power through him that made the shadows recoil for a moment. “This isn’t just a trap,” he said grimly. “It’s a test.”


    “What kind of test?” Styles yelled, narrowly dodging a clawed swipe.


    Kyle didn’t answer. Instead, he raised the artifact high, its jagged crystalline surface catching the faint glow of the glyphs around them. For a moment, the shard pulsed—an angry, rhythmic thrum that reverberated through the chamber, syncing with the pounding of his heart. Then, without warning, light erupted from it.


    It wasn’t just light—it was alive. Searing and brilliant, it tore through the shadows with violent intensity, casting jagged, shifting patterns across the walls. The creatures recoiled, their glowing red eyes dimming as the light consumed them. Their screeches rose to a deafening crescendo, twisting into guttural cries that echoed until they dissolved into nothingness, leaving the chamber heavy with silence.


    Breathing heavily, the group gathered around Kyle, their expressions a mixture of relief and dread. He looked down at the artifact in his hand. Its surface, once shimmering with an almost hypnotic glow, was now blackened and cracked as though the light had burned it from within. The edges, sharp and uneven, seemed to drink in the faint light of the glyphs around them, creating an eerie void in the palm of his hand. It was cold now—unnaturally so—and its weight felt heavier than before, as though it carried something far more than its physical form.


    “What the hell is that thing?” Mason whispered, his voice barely audible.


    Kyle didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared at the shard, its jagged edges pressing uncomfortably into his skin. It wasn’t just an object anymore. It was something more. Something dangerous.


    “I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice low and strained. “But I don’t think it’s done with us yet.”


    “Let’s get out of here,” Gareth said, his voice heavy. No one disagreed.


    As they exited the ruin, Kyle’s vision blurred for a moment. A notification appeared, hovering before him like a ghost.


    New Quest: The Rift Unseen


    Description: Unknown


    Difficulty: ???


    The words felt alive, staring back at him with cold intent. Kyle’s fingers hovered over the accept button as a chill ran down his spine. He pressed it, his voice a whisper as the screen faded to black.


    “This is where it begins.”


    The next day, Kyle sat in his room, the faint hum of his computer filling the silence. The familiar dim glow of his monitors bathed the walls, but his thoughts were elsewhere.


    Was the game just a game? The question had haunted him since Kaelith’s cryptic warning. There was something off about Eidolon—something beyond its impressive design or immersive gameplay. It was a gut feeling he couldn’t shake.


    Kyle reached for his phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing. While it rang, his gaze drifted to the posters on his wall. He remembered sitting in this very chair months ago, transfixed by the Eidolon trailer. The hauntingly beautiful visuals, the promise of endless possibilities in a VR world—it had pulled him in like a siren''s call. He’d thought it was the perfect escape. Now, he wasn’t so sure. The game was fun, yes, but there was something more to it, something he didn’t yet understand.


    The ringing stopped. “Kyle, what’s up?” Nash’s familiar voice came through the speaker, casual and unbothered.


    Kyle leaned forward, gripping the phone tightly. “I know you’re not into VR games, but…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “What would it take to get you to play this one?”


    There was silence on the other end for a beat too long. Then Nash asked, his tone sharper now, “What happened? This doesn’t sound like you.”


    Kyle sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But something’s… weird. I need you to trust me on this. Play the game. Please.”


    Nash didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was serious. “Alright. I’ll give it a shot. But you owe me an explanation.”


    Kyle’s shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. The knot in his stomach didn’t ease; if anything, it tightened. “Thanks,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ll set you up. Just… don’t take too long.”


    As he hung up, the faint click of the line disconnecting felt heavier than it should. Kyle stared at his phone, the screen dimming to black, his reflection staring back at him. The unease gnawed at him, clawing its way to the surface. He had a hunch—a feeling he couldn’t quite name—that this wasn’t just about getting Nash to try a game.


    It wasn’t just a good idea. It was necessary.


    The thought sent a chill down his spine, but it wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way. He thought of Kaelith’s cryptic warning, of the shifting shadows in the Vale, and of the artifact that had pulsed with unnatural energy in his grasp. The lines between the game and something deeper—something far more real—had blurred in ways he couldn’t ignore.


    And then there was Nash. For weeks, Kyle had dismissed the whispers of glitches, the stories of players seeing things that couldn’t be explained. But now, as the pieces started to fall into place, one thing became clear: Nash Kyler wasn’t just another player he wanted on his team. He was part of this—whether either of them knew it or not.


    A faint buzz pulled Kyle from his thoughts. His phone lit up again, a notification glowing ominously in the dim light.


    New Party Invitation Required: Nash Kyler. Initiate Process?


    The message wasn’t from him. It wasn’t from any app he recognized. His breath caught, and for a moment, he could swear he felt the walls of his room close in.


    Kyle stared at the notification, his thumb hovering over the screen. A faint whisper echoed in his mind—not a sound, but a sensation.


    It begins.


    He pressed the button.