Guild Wars

Smirking maliciously, Draco held the Orb of Worlds in his hand, twirling it lazily while looking down on the woman at the foot of his golden throne.

"So, this is all you amount to. After years of competition between our top guilds, Darkrow guild falls to my Hellscape guild. Adding to that is this lovely gift you've given me. With this, our rule in Boundless is secured and all the AAA companies will clamor at our feet."

He bent down slightly, putting his arrogant yet handsome face closer to the black clad woman in tight leathers kneeling at his feet, although her face was obscured by shadows and darkness. She was none other than Riveting Night, leader of the Darkrow Guild.

Despite being on the losing end, she was conspicuously silent, only staring right at Draco. Frowning, Draco felt something was off. No matter how mature and calm a person was, having your empire that you built from scraps crumble at the hands of your hated enemy would elicit some form of response.

The lack of such a response from Riveting Night made Draco alarmed. In fact, his long held paranoia made him imagine a smirk on the lips on her face, although such a thing couldn't be seen.

Without wasting any more time gloating, he executed her using his Mana Sword, a unique weapon he created himself that had been recognized globally as Boundless' number one weapon.

The game had seen a massive explosion in value and publicity in the fifteen years it had been out, becoming more than just a second world. In fact, some may argue that Boundless was the real world while Earth was the second, but those people were delusional in Draco's opinion.

He had started from the utmost bottom position, barely scraping by in college while playing as a harveey, a derogatory term for a guild's resource harvester. The Guild he had slaved for was none other than Darkrow, back in the early days. He had climbed from a measly harveey to an elite member due to his insane skills, essentially becoming the 1st vice guild leader out of two in just five years.

After that, he was recognized as one of the game's best players in the global ranking, taking the 3rd spot. Unfortunately, the two above him existed in different locations that were light-years away from his base of operations, so he never had a chance to thrash them.

At that time, the Guild Leader, Riveting Night, had noticed him and they entered into a relationship. Those fulfilling days of Draco's were shattered when he found out she was sleeping with Local Lord, the other vice guild leader.

He then left Darkrow and swore to crush them into oblivion for this betrayal, creating Hellscape and raising it to legendary status in five years. Then came the brutal conflicts between the two guilds which occurred in game and sometimes out of game. Many elites had been assassinated on both sides, and Draco had even performed a few himself.

The world of Boundless was a cruel one, especially when you were at the top. It was the same as being a politician in the real world, your life was always in danger one way or another.

Draco gazed at his hands, lost in his thoughts of the past and reconciling with his hatred and thirst for vengeance. With Darkrow officially crushed, it could be considered that his quest was complete, but something felt off. Riveting Night's behavior had him wary, but he didn't know why.

"Guild Leader, everything has been set up for the ceremony. When will you perform it?" asked one of his vice Guild leaders.

Forcibly pulled from his thoughts, Draco nodded absentmindedly. "In half an hour's time. I need to go and do something."

The other elders and vice guild leaders were puzzled by his sudden listlessness, but knew better than to comment. Their Guild Leader was far from a benevolent man. Some many even describe him as evil. They would admit that they weren't pure themselves, but compared to their guild leader, they were like kittens to a saber tooth tiger.

Draco paid no attention to their questioning glances and decided to log out for now. Going through the usual animation for de-immersion, he climbed out of his gaming cabin groggily. He hadn't logged out in a few months, and despite the cabins ability to prevent atrophy and keep the body healthy, it still took him some time to adapt to being normal.

Moving through his mansion, he crossed over to the upstairs snack bar and took out some ch.i.p.s. He chewed on them idly while drinking soda, his thoughts scattered across various topics.

It was too late when he realized that his enhanced danger sense was tingling. Diving into a roll, he came up behind where he thought his attacker would be only to find… nothing.

Surprisingly, he felt a hot fluid spreading over his chest area. Did he pour his soda on his body? When he looked down, he was surprised to see that something was sticking out of his chest. It looked like… a sword? In real life? Was this a joke?

When he touched the fluid, his lethargic brain realized that it was not soda, but blood. Probably his blood, he thought. What baffled him was that there was no pain, just mild surprise. Even when he lost control of his body and fell to the floor, the only thing on his mind was a mild contemplation of the sequence of events.

Right before his eyes closed and his consciousness was banished from reality, he suddenly came to a startling conclusion.

Ah… I've been assassinated huh? Interesting.

Such was the sudden and soon to be uproarious death of Draco, the leader of the legendary guild Hellscape of Boundless world. But the soul of Draco wasn't concerned with that. Upon death, it moved to enter the reincarnation cycle, aiming to be reborn in the next two hundred or so years.

Unfortunately, a gigantic hand grabbed his tiny blob of consciousness and threw it at the wheel, but not towards the future segment. His consciousness - his soul - was flung towards the past section, entering the cycle subtly, disappearing from the otherworld almost imperceptibly.

The only being with the awareness of this chaotic action was the owner of the hand, who was laughing happily, excited at the level of carnage his actions would cause. Like a young teenager preparing to watch a superhero movie, he readied himself to watch the show of a lifetime.