The crowd had now swelled to nearly half a million players, a vast army of warriors, rogues, mages, and adventurers—each a force in their own right. If they were to descend upon Earth, they could seize entire continents with ease. And yet, here they stood, gathered not for battle, but to listen to the words of a newcomer, a man who had only recently arrived in Paradise.
Zain took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he steadied himself. The weight of the moment pressed against him, but he did not falter. He embraced it.
"My name is Zain," he began, his voice calm yet firm, carried to every corner of the plaza by the brown glow circling his throat—Lorien's magic amplifying his words. "I have only been in Paradise for a matter of weeks…" His voice rang clear, and the sheer size of the crowd became evident as a wave of murmurs rippled through them.
"But in that short time, I have seen much," he continued, his voice growing stronger. "I have seen injustice. I have seen cruelty. I have seen unfairness that should not exist, even in a world like this."
Zain's fists clenched at his sides, his body language growing more animated as he spoke. "I understand that this is the nature of Paradise, as many of you do. The strong survive, the weak are left behind, and the system forces us to accept it!"
He paused, letting his words settle over the crowd like a heavy fog.
"But what I cannot accept—what I refuse to accept—is that this cruelty is not just from Paradise itself, but from our own kind!" His voice thundered over the mass of players, his tone filled with righteous anger. "It is one thing to struggle against this world, to fight against the dangers it throws at us. But when our own people—fellow players—turn against each other, preying on the weak, profiting off their suffering, hoarding power while others desperately try to survive…"
Zain raised both hands into the air, his expression intense, his skin flushed with passion.
"THAT—WE—MUST NOT ACCEPT!"
A roar erupted from the crowd. The energy was building, shifting, transforming into something far greater than mere curiosity. The independent players, the outcasts, the ones who had been exploited by the guilds—they were listening.
Zain's voice did not waver. It only grew louder, more commanding, more defiant.
"We will not accept it. We will not bow to the guilds who play tyrant with our lives!"
The cheers intensified, a tsunami of emotion crashing through the gathering. The members of smaller guilds, those who had felt the weight of the stronger factions pressing them down, smiled, nodded, and shouted their approval.
Zain turned, his hand tightening around Ashley's, the woman who had stood by his side since the beginning. Their fingers interlocked as he took a deep breath, then unleashed the words that would shake Paradise to its core.
"I hereby announce the first ever guild, created by players, for players. A guild that exists not to serve a god, not to kneel before a divine power that controls our fate, but to stand as one, to fight for ourselves and each other. A guild built on freedom, strength, and unity."
The tension in the air was palpable. The established guild leaders—the rulers of this level—watched with cold, calculating expressions, their fingers twitching near their weapons. Some clenched their jaws, their hostility barely restrained, while others merely narrowed their eyes, their minds already crafting strategies to crush this rebellion before it could spread.
Zain raised his fist high, his brown eyes burning with conviction.
"MARK THIS DAY," he declared, "AS THE BIRTH OF—THE ADVENTURERS' GUILD!"
For a moment, the world froze.
Then—
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
The cheers erupted, louder than thunder, deafening in their intensity. Players screamed and shouted, fists pumping into the air. Others clapped, whistled, and howled their approval. The sheer volume of the response shook the ground, the energy crackling in the air like a brewing storm.
Zain stood tall, Ashley's hand in his, his body illuminated by the golden glow of the sun as if fate itself had chosen this moment for him.
Yet, amid the deafening cheers, among the roaring voices of the masses—
A single thought echoed silently through the minds of every guild leader present.
'War.'
'War.'
'War.'
'War'
They all thought the same thing. They all reached the same inescapable conclusion.
This was a declaration of war.
High above the chaos, perched atop the roof of a three-story building, Ali stood beside Jacob, both watching the scene unfold with differing expressions.
Jacob, usually composed, was rigid, his fingers curled into fists. The easy-going, laid-back demeanour he always carried had vanished. His face was an unreadable mask, but beneath it, emotions warred—anger, frustration, unease.
"War," Jacob muttered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ali's sharp eyes flicked toward the white-haired man, analysing every twitch of his expression. He wasn't calm—not like he wanted to be. Something about this event unsettled him deeply.
Jacob's gaze shifted to the empty air beside him, where his interface flickered with dozens upon dozens of messages from high-ranking figures across Paradise. Guildmates, allies, enemies—they were all asking questions to every contact they had.
But Jacob simply closed the interface, exhaling sharply through his nose before turning to Ali.
His expression hardened.
"Ali," he said, his voice low but firm. "We need to talk."
Ali arched an eyebrow. "I've got time until sunset."
Jacob nodded, then launched off the rooftop, his movements swift and precise, bursts of wind carrying him between buildings as he darted away.
Ali followed at a calm pace, moving across rooftops effortlessly, his Force Sense brushing against the thousands of emotions swirling beneath them. Excitement. Rage. Fear. Anticipation. It was a storm of conflicting emotions, a boiling cauldron of chaos about to spill over.
Beside him, a small metal sphere floated silently, following his movements like a loyal shadow.
They continued leaping across rooftops. The streets beneath them were flooded with players, a chaotic sea of bodies still reeling from what had just transpired. The energy in the air was palpable—some were ecstatic, others furious, and many simply pushed and shoved their way through the crowd, desperate to be among the first to join the newly founded Adventurers' Guild.
As Ali and Jacob moved, they passed by numerous shops, guild headquarters, and gatherings, each one seemingly alive with frantic discussions, hurried meetings, and whispered plans. The declaration of a guild without a god had shattered the delicate balance of power on the second level, and the shockwaves were only beginning.
Eventually, the two reached their destination—a massive walled-off structure, towering and imposing, stretching across an area nearly a quarter the size of the Arena. The walls were made of a smooth, dark stone, with faint glowing symbols etched into them—runes of unknown origin that pulsed subtly in the fading sunlight.
Ali followed Jacob as they dropped down from the rooftop, landing just outside a wide, reinforced entrance leading into the enclosed area.
'This is where players train,' Ali recalled, remembering the brief tour he had received when he first arrived on the second level.
As they stepped inside, they found themselves in a large reception hall with multiple long wooden desks staffed by attendants. The hall itself was spacious, lined with banners displaying various combat techniques, along with holographic screens that showed live footage of ongoing training sessions within the facility.
One of the receptionists, a young man with short brown hair and a nervous disposition, glanced up as the two men approached. His heartbeat quickened instantly. There was something about them—especially the black-haired one—that made his instincts scream at him to be careful.
"D-Day tickets are five Paradise Coins," the receptionist stammered slightly, addressing Jacob as if afraid to meet Ali's gaze.
"We're only here to watch," Jacob replied smoothly.
The receptionist hesitated for a moment before nodding quickly, regaining some composure. "If that's the case, please head to the left. The doors there will lead you to the stands."
Jacob nodded in acknowledgment before leading the way. Ali followed silently, his hands tucked into his pockets as his keen eyes took in his surroundings.
As they passed through the doors, Ali was finally able to see the training grounds—a place he had never laid eyes on before.
It was enormous.
A vast open space stretched out before them, divided into multiple sections, each one designed for a different kind of training. Some areas had large wooden dummies, enchanted to move and react like real opponents. Others had floating platforms, likely used for aerial combat practice. There were even sections covered in thick metal plating, where players unleashed their most destructive attacks without fear of collateral damage.
Encircling the entire facility was a wide running track, clearly marked for speed and endurance training. Every part of the grounds had been carefully designed with efficiency in mind, a stark contrast to the chaotic, unstructured brawls that often took place in the Arena.
As they followed the marked spectator path along the outer perimeter, Ali suddenly felt something blocking his Force Sense.
His gaze sharpened as he turned toward the training field, extending his hand toward the edge of the path. Just before his fingers crossed the invisible threshold, a transparent barrier revealed itself, glowing red where he touched it.
His eyes narrowed. "Who built this place?" he asked, retracting his hand and continuing to walk alongside Jacob.
Jacob barely glanced at the barrier as he responded. "As far as I know, it's been here since the beginning—just like the Arena," he said. "It was built by Paradise itself."
Ali didn't reply immediately, his mind lingering on the strange energy surrounding the barrier.
The two eventually reached the stands, a stone structure that overlooked the entire training facility. The stands were completely empty, their presence undisturbed by the chaos unfolding outside.
Ali and Jacob sat in the middle row, the silence between them heavy. There was no one around to overhear their conversation.
And then—Jacob finally spoke.
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