(Durmax – Occupation: RoT / Trapline Army) (Zero)

  Some fear God, others fear the unknown, but it is I who fear the known. If I could send you this letter, if I could just tell you my thoughts, would you send me a sign that you heard? Maybe disprove me or, hopefully, see me following your path. I’m confused right now; I don’t know exactly where I’m headed with this, but planning things without writing them down was never my specialty. So that's why I’m starting here—to confirm how I feel… Please forgive me if I got this wrong, Mother.

  A man screams as his legs shatter, bones piercing through his skin. He digs his broken fingernails into the oak floorboards as blood pools around him. Three of his friends died within seconds from a home invader. Everything happened so fast that he didn’t have a chance to see what occurred. But as the invader approaches, Anderson recognizes the familiar face. “BUT WHY!”

  Memories flood Zero’s mind of people he once helped and now kills. He raises his warhammer without hesitation.

  “WHY WOULD Y—” Zero silences Anderson's screams by bashing his head onto the floor.

  His eyes are weary, like a man rising for his nine-to-five. He’s seen it all again and again: the crying, the tears, the confusion… Zero drops to one knee, pulling Anderson’s hand closer. The crystal ring is something he needs. Slipping it off and onto his own finger, he almost feels complete. All he needs now is a brazer warhammer and to max out his level. Standing, he inspects the ring before turning to the door.

  We are the fifty-in-one.

  (Frauw – Occupation: Lit) (Amos)

  In his bed, he lies in silence, trying to gather himself. Though his thoughts are blurry, one thing keeps repeating… Kill RoT. Who is RoT? Does it even matter? Anyone with a pulse would do. This obsessive thought drives him crazy because he wants to kill them.

  Occasionally, someone from his clan enters the room and receives the oddly shaped mask. He can’t focus on who each person is, but it all feels familiar. The chains vanish and reappear as the mask is passed around. Ultimately, it’s still too difficult for him to pay attention.

  Vodka reaches into his jacket, pulling out a flask while singing to himself. “No temper man comes; I hope he stays away. Minutes are moments that we can’t separate. I wish I could be the shepherd moving into the lake. The temper man knows this is his place.”

  Before Vodka can continue his song, Amos interrupts him. “What… are you singing?”

  “A short song from when I was younger.” Vodka lowers his head. “When I was about eleven, my father always listened to the radio while working on his car. One of the broadcasters sang this one day, and only that day. But I remembered all of it.”

  “What is it about?” Amos asks, his voice cracked, almost dry.

  Vodka hesitates, conflicted. “I don’t know for sure… But I always thought the temper man was himself, and no matter where you run, your anger will follow. It ends on a bright note with the sun rising again.”

  “Oh…” Amos sighs.

  “How are you feeling?” Vodka asks.

  The chains vanish from Amos as he opens and closes his hands. “It’s hard to say…”

  Vodka tilts his head before sighing. “Let's go for a walk. It’s been a while since you got out.”

  They walk through the house to the double doors. As Vodka places his hands on one of the doors, he turns back to Amos. “Brother, I was going to wait, but Zero isn’t here. We’ve been trying to reach him for the last two days.”

  Amos’s eyes widen before dimming. Part of him doesn’t care; he can’t even form a coherent thought. But the worst part is the constant static in the back of his mind.

  Vodka and Amos walk down the gravel road between the groves as the sun behind them casts shadows in front of them.

  After a stretch of silence, Vodka finally speaks up, though it’s about everyone except Cazel and Zero.

  As Vodka starts to mention Copper's visit, the static noise, previously distant, grows closer and louder, drowning out what Vodka is saying. In that moment, Amos recalls his memory clearly. That’s right… His students tried to kill him. But why? Amos halts, staring past Vodka.

  Turning around, Vodka also stops. “Amos?”

  Why did they want to kill him? They were his students, his friends, his classmates. SO WHY DID THEY DO THAT?! The static nearly ruptures his eardrums, twisting into a low-pitched humming—one of many hums, yet also a hum of one. An inner voice calls out to him amidst it.

  Amos…

  Rightfully so, Amos’s heart drops, his blood runs cold, and his mind connects.

  Vodka waves a hand in front of him. “Amos?”

  Amos… If you really want to know why…

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  It’s because of RoT; they sent their strongest to the enemy's weakest.

  Feef did this.

  Amos walks past Vodka without a word, stopping only when his clanmate grabs his wrist.

  “Amos, what is happening… Let's go home.”

  Amos slowly turns to Vodka, tears running down his face. “I… I have to kill Feef.”

  “No,” Vodka says, shaking his head and pulling Amos closer. “Feef had nothing to do with this, and Copper already explained it to us. We need to…”

  Talking proves useless as Amos casts an Air Bolt between them, scattering dust around Vodka. In that split second, Amos sprints fifty yards toward the town. The ground nearly shatters, rubble levitates, leaves on the trees flow backward, and the wind burns…

  All in nine seconds. But Amos forgets one thing: why Vodka is called a legend. Vodka speed-blitzes Amos, darts past the trees, and tackles him into an open field. Just before Amos regains his balance to leap away, Vodka shoves him into the ground, pressing his face into the grass and dirt.

  “Amos, calm down!” Vodka says as he slips on the half-talisman mask.

  “FUCK OFF! GET OFF!” Amos yells as chains grab him by the wrists, ankles, neck, and waist. “I HAVE TO KILL THEM!”

  “I said calm down!” Vodka shouts before pulling himself off Amos while chains lock him in place.

  Amos’s voice strains as he cries into the dirt—a low scream into the ground. “PLEASE LET ME GO!”

  “No, Amos!” Vodka replies.

  “FUCK YOU!”

  Vodka relaxes slightly as Amos can no longer move. He sends a few messages to Xander and Hypno while Amos screams until his voice gives out.

  (Durmax – Occupation: RoT / Trapline Army) (Zero)

  Escorted by three hybrids through the halls of one of the largest castles in the world, Zero is told to wait two minutes for the people inside to open the eight-meter-tall double doors, crafted from silver and copper. It takes less than thirty seconds before the doors creak open.

  He steps into a dimly lit room, lined with eight people on one side and seven on the other. Three individuals hold positions at the end of a long table: one leans over the table while the other two sit, all staring intently at Zero.

  The man leaning over the table seems to stare directly at Zero, though it's difficult to tell through the poor lighting and the black mask he wears. Two of the seven on the left also wear black masks. Their RoT uniforms resemble the others, but with unique red stripes replaced by creamy teal and yellow, resembling emerald and eggplant.

  The masked man shifts his attention to the seated figure. “We'll continue discussing my sister's whereabouts later. Search for her again, and you're dead.” Straightening his posture, the masked man passes by Zero; the two other masked figures follow him.

  As the masked man passes, Zero feels an aura-like force surround him, only diminishing as the distance between them grows. Once Zero enters, his three hybrid escorts move into place along the left line of men, evening the count to eight on each side.

  One of the seated men stands. “Zero.”

  Zero stops at the opposite end of the table. “Feef.” He turns his focus on the seated man with a grin. “Ruto.”

  Ruto responds with a broader grin. Now ranked number one after the high scores reset, he sits next to rank three, just beside rank two, Durial of the Sanity clan. Zero knows he’s in dangerous territory, but he also remembers the fear he instills in this city and its clans.

  “Four bodies of traders were found dead with blunt-force trauma to their skulls and other parts of their bodies. Care to explain why you, a warhammer specialist, were found bloodied on the streets just minutes later?” Feef asks.

  “No need to explain anything. You know I killed them,” Zero states. He senses the tremors of the sixteen men around him, yet when he meets Ruto’s gaze, there’s an unsettling familiarity. Ruto’s eyes appear mechanical, almost unreal.

  “But why?” Feef presses. “Is it because—”

  Zero interrupts. “It has to do with why I'm here, but it's also about helping myself along the way.”

  “Did you not receive Copper’s message?”

  “I’m not here for revenge against you,” Zero replies. “I’m here for revenge against Lit.”

  “Then why come here? Why face us now?” Feef questions.

  “Because you owe me,” Zero replies. Before Feef can respond, he adds, “Even if you had no part in the orders.” He doesn’t entirely believe those words but continues, “It was still your people who attacked mine.” His words echo through the room, followed by an eerie silence. Zero raises his hand, and a folder appears out of thin air, sliding across the table toward Feef.

  Feef opens it to the first plan, detailing methods to attack RoT. He skims through the folder, which contains quick yet effective strategies to dismantle RoT’s defenses. “Perhaps we underestimated Lit’s ability to outmaneuver us. That would have been a disaster. General Lion and Drossel will bolster our defenses.”

  “Defenses?” Zero challenges. “You should be attacking them while they’re vulnerable.”

  “You underestimate General Mamer.”

  Zero chuckles. “He’s dead. I already killed him.”

  Several of the sixteen men visibly react, shocked by the revelation.

  “And yet, somehow, I’m not surprised. I’ve known you for years, and you still don’t shock me, not like the first time we fought.” Feef closes the folder, making it vanish into his inventory. “But we still won’t attack them.”

  Zero’s grin fades. “And why not?”

  Feef sighs. “Ruto…”

  It’s rare to see a man in his fifties competing in a game dominated by players aged eighteen to thirty. Yet Ruto, ranked number one, stands alongside legends like Iker and Vodka, having ruled the game almost a decade ago. Ruto, the Man of Music, stands tall.

  “It’s simple, Zero. We don’t stoop to their level, no matter how dirty they play. A face-to-face confrontation is the most thrilling way.”

  Zero’s expression hardens, recalling Ruto's fight-driven nature. “This isn’t a suggestion. I’m warning you. You all know what will happen.”

  Ruto’s grin doesn’t waver. “Big words for a notorious player standing alone. You want some of this?”

  “Try me…” Zero replies, barely finishing the words before an earth pillar erupts beneath him, catapulting him through the roof and two floors above. Ten feet above the castle's roof, Zero pushes off the pillar and tumbles to the ground, gasping for air. What the hell was that spell? All these years, he’s never seen Ruto use that. He coughs up saliva he inhaled on the way up as he hears cracks and hurried footsteps approaching.

  Zero stands just in time to see Ruto leap from behind the pillar with astonishing speed. Warhammer in hand, Ruto hurls a piece of roof tile at him. Zero barely blocks it before Ruto appears beside him, landing a rapid barrage of blows to his abdomen. The strikes send Zero off the roof, crashing through a brick chimney and rolling through a house before finally skidding to a stop on the street outside. Lying on his back, Zero stares at the sky as his warhammer slides to a halt above him.

  “Ow…”