It was a blur. Had it really only been two days, when you’ve lived through six? Whether out of desperation to make up for lost time or out of a desire to remain social and keep up with one’s friends, you continued to dive into the fantastic world of Cacophony Concord, breathing in air purer than any that you could breathe outside, experiencing wonders natural and magical, which regardless of repetition, never truly lost their charms. Goldspun Fields and the deadly critters lurking between golden longgrass. Pearl Bloom River and the amphibious creatures at once comical and lethal. Thunderstruck Grove and the shadows that lurked at the edge of your sanity. And Nyu-Taro, the untamed city-state, from which all corners of Horogi interacted without threat of violence, from which all corners of the world first arrived to properly immigrate into the nation of perpetual war. In your dreams, it haunted you, brilliant ideals of a paradise craft of code, outshining the grim humdrum of reality, of political divides and mounting tensions, of acid rain and desertification.
Of course, even the worse news was never about your own cities, your own homes. It was radio static, compared to immediate concerns. Stocks traded in consideration to the calculated whims of the free market. Musings of marriage murmured between dates and kisses. Late night conversations across all castes of the social hierarchy. Brotherly rivalry, reignited through video chat and parental comparisons. Impatient seconds, crawling away as the timer continued to tick. Moments of levity found, even in the maelstrom of academics and filial obligation. Between the necessities of physical existence and the flashes of fantastic living, a life beyond both still peeked in occasionally for you, reminding you of the small joys that persisted still.
But war, war was on the horizon. Chances for glory, for promotion, for recognition, for loot, for blood. It was a war that could shape the entire political landscape of Horogi. It was a war that could engrave your name upon the history books of a world separate from your own. It was the impetus of change, and undoubtedly the termination of many lives. It was something that you absolutely could not miss.
So you plug in once more, feeling technology seep into your brain, dragging your senses away.
And you fall.
Search for it, starve for it, thirst for it, struggle for it, and seize it.
That which you desire most.
𝔸
ℙ
𝔸
ℝ
𝕋
𝔽𝔸𝕃𝕃𝕊
𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕎𝕆ℝ𝕃𝔻
𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔹𝔼𝕃𝕃 𝕊𝔼𝕃𝔼ℂ𝕋𝕊
𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℂ𝕆𝔾𝕊 𝕊ℙ𝕀ℕ
𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊ℂ𝔸𝕃𝔼𝕊 𝕊ℍ𝕀𝔽𝕋
𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℙ𝔼ℕ𝔻𝕌𝕃𝕌𝕄𝕊 𝕊𝕎𝕀ℕ𝔾
⚙
⚙
⚙
《𝔻𝔼𝕊𝕋ℝ𝕌ℂ𝕋𝔼𝔻 𝕎𝕆ℝ𝕃𝔻 𝕄𝔸ℕ𝕀𝔽𝔼𝕊𝕋𝔼𝔻》
《𝔻𝔼𝕊𝕋ℝ𝕌ℂ𝕋𝔼𝔻 𝕎𝕆ℝ𝕃𝔻 𝕊𝕋𝔸𝔹𝕀𝕃𝕀ℤ𝔼𝔻》
⚙
𝕡ℝ𝕆𝕍𝔼 𝕪𝕆𝕌ℝ 𝕝𝕆𝕍𝔼 𝕚𝕊 𝕥ℝ𝕌𝔼
War!
Between the Mora-Sho clan, scions to the greatest disaster that befell Horogi, and the Tato-Ie clan, perpetually in the shadow of the titan they split themselves off from! The Ryoku-Jo and Sa-Li, both opportunists, shadowed the outskirts of this conflict, none but the clan heads truly certain of whether they would act. And the Gakui-Re, a people without nations, an army without borders, wildcards that could drastically shift the tides of any battle they involved themselves in. It had been a long time since any of the clans had last pronounced their desire for wealth and land, and now, within the city-state of Nyu-Taro, on the morning of the war’s start, the city was in a fever pitch. Foreign mercenaries from lands as far away as Deneb and Erid strode boldly, lead by leaders both callous and charismatic. Merchants, overstocked with wartime necessities of food and potions, peddled them at prices that announced discounts…from overpriced values. And despite the bloody business of war, there was a festive atmosphere as well, exceeding even that of the conclusion of the continent-wide tournament just nine days ago. Death, violent death, was simply a fact of life for the Riens of Horogi, and Nyu-Taro, ever neutral, could watch any of the battles from a safe distance.
And, amongst those milling about the Keystone Plaza, five figures arrived at the preordained time, all greatly changed from a mere six days.
Of prodigious size, such that even his own oversized axe was rendered small, Klein was the first to emerge from his pilgrimage to the mountains. The blood of giants now flowed through his veins, and he towered above many others, a behemoth of physical prowess, experienced both in battle against monsters as well as against other Immortals. After all, though he did not yet commit to joining the Gakui-Re clan, he had certainly worked for them, ambushing merchants, collecting loans, and all the other small-time thug activities expected of someone who couldn’t truly get involved in the greater operations of the bandit clan. They would welcome him with open arms, if he ever asked. But for now, the Mountain Man had no intention on asking, for on his quest to obtaining his desire for a truly unkillable build, Klein had heard about something else. A rare low-rank job that could only be uncovered in the territories, or perhaps history, of the Mora-Sho clan: [Dead Soldier].
Prodigious size alone did not dissuade a sharpened blade though, and in the time he had spent becoming accustomed to possessing only one truly functioning arm, Raime’s blade had not just become sharpened, but had become teethed and possessing a hand cannon. His own studies, more cerebral in nature, granted him a small collection of common and uncommon consumables at his disposal, as well as the ability to make more if he could find the materials for them. Nyu-Taro was still just the ‘tutorial’ area of Horogi though, home to only a small selection of vegetation that a beginner alchemist could transform into higher quality ingredients. If he sought the battlefield though, following in the path of the Tato-Ie army, perhaps there would be more chance for quality ingredients. Much has been said, after all, of the blood lilies that bloomed upon the Plains of Repentance.
Repentance, or any cerebral activity, however, was the furthest thing from Magpie’s mind. Having had the least amount of time to grind for the war, due in part to her heroic sacrifice within the territories of the gyunin, the Brawler-Strongman-Qi Gong had absolutely destroyed her soul trying to depopulating all the farming zones within the nature. Her body count must have numbered in the hundreds now, her fists stained with the viscera of a dozen demons. If Klein was a mountain, immovable and impassable, Magpie was a drill, capable of piercing both the earth and the heavens. She had become
strong. And in the clash of armies, she would grow even stronger. The Path of the Macho was never-ending, after all, and her steps matched the tempo of war.
But if war was the end for Magpie, war was a means for Amulak. His continued progression into the realm of the dead had only added a more and more sinister air around the man, face obscured by an impenetrable veil. Even the stone beneath his feet seemed to blacken somewhat with his approaching footsteps as lightless fire flickered within his lantern. A few faces in the crowds of adventurers buzzing about the war even noticed him, waving or shouting a quick greeting. Though his fame was insignificant within solo arena PvP, which was what people were naturally inclined to valuing, Amulak had formed a half-decent reputation for himself in randomized 3v3 PvP matches, slowly becoming accustomed to expecting the unexpected. With thousands of job classes and an infinite amount of permutations available due to Nuclei, equipment, and personal habits, it was impossible to have perfect counters for every scenario, but very possible to train one’s skill to analyze and adapt on the fly, which he had done to great effect. And if he could replicate that same success on the battlefield, if he could play any significant role in driving back the Tato-Ie army…perhaps there was an opportunity for a meteoric rise into the echelons of the Mora-Sho clan.
Politics and clan advancement, of course, was something that Ames simply couldn’t be bothered to really care about. After all, the flame-haired swordsman was not only the proprietor of a travelling inn, but also, as he learned from his more hardcore gamer friends after that fateful night, the person who possessed one of the rarest Nuclei types currently in the game: the Maiden-Hybrid. Between visits to the Shin-Yu Temple (of which Lugh had never returned to since), keeping up the grind with his other regular party members, and exploring both the potential of The Sweet Maid and the potential for in-game fashion, Ames had been keeping busy, and had been keeping busy in such a way that when the time came for the war, he hardly even realized it. After all, it was just an in-game war. It may as well be treated as a scripted event, like any other large-scale MMORPG event that didn’t really alter the world in any way. So, it must be fine too, then, to just have fun.
After all, Cacophony Concord was just a game. An escape from a grayscale reality.
And, as the five of them shared their greetings, they could all hear the rumbling of an engine in the distance, an anachronism within the Eastern Fantasy environment they’ve grown accustomed to.
The roar of the engine, and the arrival of a friend.
