Chapter 2: Plug in Your Mouse, HenryMany online gamers are deeply invested in the lore and world-building of their favorite games. In Valia, the 54 fortresses scattered across the nd are remnants of an ancient civilization. Millennia have passed since their fall, until the Adventurers—aka avatars of the pyers—arrived and began utilizing what was left behind.

  Some believe these fortresses hide a grand secret—perhaps a massive treasure—and that only when a faction activates all 54 strongholds will the treasure map be revealed. Or something along those lines. Over time, more and more theories have emerged, all revolving around the same question: why must the two factions fight to death? The answer is simple—whoever controls all 54 fortresses can reach that secret treasure.

  However valuable this rumored treasure may be, it ultimately exists within a virtual world. Most pyers don't particurly care about it. The ones actively participating in this war do so partly due to the competitive spirit ingrained in every gamer—but more importantly, because of the absurd amount of real-world money being poured into this game.

  That’s right—real money.

  ===

  Shun shifted uncomfortably in his brand-new suit, which he had picked up from some high-end boutique in town. Handcrafted by a seasoned French tailor—at least, that's what the sales clerk had enthusiastically babbled about. The suit was paired with seamless oxford shoes made from cordovan leather, crafted by some Paolo-someone who only produced ten pairs per year. Shun didn’t care much for Western fashion. He had simply walked into the store and asked for the most expensive outfit avaible.

  The shoes were as stiff as rocks.

  Muttering curses under his breath, he strode across the cobblestone boulevard. Leather shoes required a break-in period, but he hadn’t known that. Western shoe sts were long and narrow—ill-suited for his broader Asian feet—but he hadn’t cared either. As the second son of a wealthy Chinese - Japanese family, had he ever once needed to dress up like this for anyone.

  Shun’s father was a Japanese politician who had risen from humble farmer origins in Fukui. Hardworking and charismatic, the man was a shining presence on media. In stark contrast, Shun’s mother was reserved and enigmatic. Few knew that her Chinese family wielded immense influence—controlling a third of Japan’s economy and exerting significant sway over South Korea.

  For twenty-two years, Shun had been the bck sheep of his family. His older brother became the Japanese Prime Minister’s secretary at the age of twenty-eight, and his younger sister was on track to earn a Harvard Law degree and pursue a Ph.D. at just nineteen. In comparison, Shun had dropped out of three universities within a month of enrollment and burned through tens of millions of dolrs on frivolous pursuits. To his parents, he was nothing short of a colossal disappointment.

  "What are your aspirations in life? Your passions? Surely, you must have a purpose beyond drifting aimlessly?"

  His mother had once asked him this, her voice calm and composed, even as she became one of the most powerful figures in their cn.

  "I like games," Shun had replied curtly before walking out the door.

  That had been over a year ago, and he hadn’t returned home since. Could this be considered running away? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem like his family had even noticed his absence—after all, his bills were still being forwarded to them, and the household functioned just fine without him.

  "Down on the boulevard, they take it hardThey look at life with such disregard~~"

  He hummed softly, turning into a secluded alleyway.

  ===

  No one would have guessed that behind the narrow entrance of this old townhouse y a private club.

  A small reception counter was tucked behind the doorway, where an elderly Chinese man in a sleek tuxedo stood silently. A Chinese elder in a tuxedo—it was an unusual sight. He neither moved nor spoke when Shun entered. Here, silence was an unspoken rule.

  Shun stepped forward and presented a card. This was his first time here. The atmosphere inside was far from stuffy or oppressive—rather, it was cool and pleasant. A faint scent of vanil lingered in the air, reminiscent of the oak tea table in his father’s study. The fragrance wafted from the liquor shelves and bookshelves lining the room. The chandelier’s soft glow cast gentle waves of light over the bck-cquered reception desk, where a jade box y open. Wearing pristine white gloves, the elder respectfully pced Shun’s card inside the box.

  The old man then led him to the staircase, motioning for him to ascend while he remained behind, bowing slightly. As Shun climbed, he suppressed the discomfort in his feet from the stiff shoes. The wooden stairs led to a spacious tearoom, its refined elegance resembling his mother’s reserved style rather than his father’s ostentatious dispys. Seated at the tea table was another man.

  In an instant, Shun could feel the man’s gaze scan over him. Though brief and nearly imperceptible, Shun was well-versed in assessing gnces—he had received plenty in his lifetime. The man leaned on a cane as he stood, nodding slightly, acknowledging that Shun’s new attire met the club’s standards.

  "Requiring people to dress formally—it’s a subtle form of psychological manipution," Shun mused.

  The solemn atmosphere, combined with the stiffness of his suit and the pristine elegance of the man before him, made him more tense than he had anticipated. It was just a discussion about an online game, yet even as a wealthy heir, he couldn’t help but feel the pressure.

  "Longjing, Jade, or Pu-erh? What’s your preference?"

  The man, dressed in a formal daytime suit with a white bow tie, casually revealed a Patek Philippe Catrava peeking from his wrist. (Unlike fashion, Shun had an eye for luxury watches.) The man’s European features were sharp yet not overly angur, and his voice was warm and inviting—enough to charm any woman in Asia.

  "I’ll have Oolong."

  Shun responded in a softer tone than usual. He rarely drank tea, and even when he did, it was reluctantly during family gatherings. To him, Oolong was the safest choice. If he were being honest, his ideal drink was still just a few cans of Monster Energy for an all-night gaming session.

  The man nodded slightly, reclining in his chair. Within moments, a group of attendants materialized, swiftly and silently arranging an eborate tea set before them.

  "This is our first time meeting, isn’t it, Shun?" The man finally spoke after taking a sip of tea. "Rex—this is a space for our Guild. No need for excessive formality. Of course, certain standards must be upheld, as this building holds a long tradition. Ah, traditions—you must be familiar with them. This property still belongs to the World Bank, after all."

  Shun took in his surroundings. He imagined a time when this room was filled with the world’s elites, sipping tea while shaping the course of history. And now, here he was—a dropout and a drifter, cd in a unfit RTW suit, about to discuss an online game.

  "I heard you’re a senior member of the World Bank, aren’t you, John?"

  Johnathan nodded, his emerald-green eyes blinking as golden shes caught the light.

  "For now, yes. I don’t crave power, but sometimes, a title can smooth things over. It’s not always about wealth—sometimes, just having the right designation can make life easier."

  "Like getting access to this room?"

  "Exactly. And also our Guild. But most importantly, it allows me to connect with remarkable individuals like you. You all make my otherwise dull life far more interesting."

  "Hah. I’m just a college dropout who’s addicted to games."

  "The Guild has strict standards regarding background and ability, that much is true. But above all else, every member must have a genuine passion for the-game. So, tell me, Shun—what does Valia mean to you?"

  Shun hesitated for a moment. This was an important question.

  "In that world," he finally answered, "I was reborn."

  Johnathan smiled.

  ===

  "The damage from Arcturus’s st attack was 156k."

  Henry lowered one side of his headset and spoke to his five teammates in the room. Their cn was originally responsible for defending the eastern gate, but with the western gate on the brink of colpse, all six of them had to rush to reinforce it.

  "If we let it spew a dozen more attacks like that, the western gate will be gone. The JAV team really is all talk!"

  A teammate, galloping beside Henry, grumbled. Just like them, JAV—short for Javelin—was also a professional team. Both cns were from Europe, roughly equal in strength, and frequently faced off as rivals in tournaments.

  Unlike Zephrania, which had a well-organized command structure, Estapha cked centralized leadership, making it difficult to issue top-down decisions. Most of the time, the major teams were just seen bickering and competing with each other to pocket as much of the budget as possible.

  To counter Zephrania’s Grand Offensive campaign, Estapha had also been granted a massive financial boost. This was real-life money, which was converted into "army upkeep"—essentially saries for pyers participating in the defense. The rest was spent on thousands of in-game gear sets.

  At present, statistics showed that over 20 million pyers had been part of Estapha’s faction at some point. However, the actual number of online pyers had been gradually declining. Zephrania’s expansion was draining Estapha’s resources—pyers were losing cities, farming zones, and dungeons. Leveling up became slower, and acquiring gear and materials grew increasingly difficult. Too many pyers were crammed into ever-shrinking territory, and the experience wasn’t exactly enjoyable when they were constantly getting crushed by Zephrania’s dominant forces. This had caused more and more pyers to quit the game.

  However, thanks to the recent influx of sponsorship money, the number of active pyers had surged again. At one point, as many as 500,000 pyers were online simultaneously in Asterith to defend the city!

  Casual pyers returned for the financial support—and for the free gear upgrades. Some were also motivated by a sense of patriotic duty toward their virtual homend, Estapha. Standing on the grand battlefield, they, too, felt a surge of pride and courage.

  For professional teams, however, this defensive campaign was more than just a battle—it was an opportunity to showcase their skills, secure funding, and, most importantly, ensure that the game didn’t end.

  This game was their livelihood. If Zephrania truly defeated Estapha and brought the war to a conclusion, where would the professional tournaments go? How would they make a living?

  Perhaps many pyers on Zephrania’s side had their own internal conflicts as well, but they were on the winning team. The prize pool had been set by major backers—real money, a fortune for the victorious faction. The top pyers of Zephrania would receive a hefty sum, enough to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. That was their primary motivation for pushing to end the game.

  In contrast, professional gamers from Estapha, like Henry and his team, were the ones who desperately wanted to prolong the war.

  Henry’s team, KOG—Knights of Gale—had six official members, the very same six people who were now in the midst of this grueling defense. They charged forward on warhorses, beasts tamed through the Tamer skill tree. The steeds from the Cassian pins were reliable partners for Knights and Padins, turning them into fearsome war machines on the battlefield.

  Henry spurred his horse forward. His mount, Copenhagen—named after the legendary steed that carried the Duke of Wellington to victory over Napoleon—surged ahead, breaking from formation as its superior stamina and speed propelled him toward the Summoner who had called forth the Ice Dragon, Arcturus.

  "We’re charging straight for that Summoner. Force him to burn all his Spirit Points, or better yet, send him back to base!" Henry shouted.

  "Mighty Summoners are always surrounded by elite bodyguards," said Jin, sitting across from him. At 28 years old, Jin was considered somewhat "old" for professional gaming, but he made up for it with stability and experience. As the team captain, he was always the one to rein in their youthful recklessness when needed.

  "That much is obvious!" Henry was still resolute. He quickly downed another gulp of Monster energy drink. "But this is our best option right now. It’s rare for a Mighty Summoner to expose himself like this during a siege. If we take him out, he’ll be crippled for an entire month, and Zephrania will lose one of their biggest weapons."

  Jin had to admit that Henry had a point. He gnced at him through the gap between their screens. The freckle-faced, cocky blond, usually smirking or rolling his eyes, now had an intense, focused expression. Whenever Henry looked like this in a match, he always pulled off something spectacur.

  At this moment, there was only one thing left for Jin to say.

  "Plug in your mouse, Henry."