Jurra squinted at the crowd before him. He wasn't stupid—he already had a guess about who they were.
RexGodzilla had been a dead giveaway, and now that he was scanning the crowd more carefully, more familiar figures popped into his mind. But he needed to be sure.
"Who are you all again?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.
One of the taller figures, with a sleek obsidian body and glowing amber eyes, stepped forward and knelt again. "We are your subordinates, sir. The commanders of the Jurassic Dominion, forged under your will. We live and die by your roar."
Jurra narrowed his eyes. The nameplates floating faintly above their heads flickered one by one.
The first one stepped up.. "I am BladeTail, your Deinonychus assassin. You gave me the BloodFang evolution path and equipped me with the legendary Shadow Vortex Scythe. You used me to assassinate the Dragon Overlord's phoenix generals."
Jurra rubbed his temple. "Right… I remember now." This dino is ridiculous.
The second one appeared.
"I am TerraShell, the Ankylosaurus tank who blocked the entrance to your Crystal Mines. You upgraded my shell into an obsidian fortress and gave me the skill Reflective Thorns."
And they just kept coming.
"I am SkyWing, the Quetzalcoatlus scout and storm mage, upgraded during the Aero Tempest event. I mapped the entire western sky for you."
"I am CryoMaw, the Ceratosaurus who froze the river and crushed the amphibian Dominion. You called me your 'Ice Cannon.'"
"I am Scorchfang, the mutated Allosaurus who breathes plasma. You assigned me to burn the Hydra Wastes. You painted my scales red and black."
One by one, the memories surged back. Jurra began to see them not as humanoid figures, but as the beasts he had once deployed. Each one had evolved through battles, resource investments, and hours of strategy.
There were hundreds—no, maybe thousands.
More stepped forward, their humanoid forms shimmering with prehistoric echoes.
"I am Tectospike, your Stegosaurus siege breaker."
"I am AquaGorge, your Baryonyx river patrol chief."
"I am DarkRazor, the raptor squad commander who infiltrated enemy data centers."
"I am BloomJura, the plant-imbued Parasaurolophus that you used for long-range healing. You crafted my Bloom Crown yourself."
Jurra raised his hand. "Stop. I remember. I remember all of you."
Silence fell across the hall.
Then cheers erupted, but not the deafening kind from earlier—these were soft, joyful, and personal.
Some of them smiled wide, others teared up with sparkling eyes.
Their faces glowed with relief, pride, and awe.
For them, this was more than a game—this was the descent of their supreme one.
One fell to her knees and sobbed. Another clutched a pendant bearing Jurra's Jurassic Overlord Dominion crest and whispered, "Our Lord remembers…"
Some saluted with arms across their chest. Others looked to one another, nodding solemnly.
Jurra, for all his detachment, felt a pressure in his chest. It was a strange kind of guilt. These beings—these... people—had served him loyally in a game he treated like a violent fantasy. They were alive now. Sentient. Emotional.
He coughed awkwardly. "How… how are you all humanoid now?"
They looked at each other again. RexGodzilla was the first to answer. "We've always been this way, sir."
"What?" Jurra blinked.
Sephina—the Spinosaurus Matriasaur—stepped forward, calm and radiant. Her long black hair flowed like a waterfall behind her, and her eyes had a gentle yet fierce glint.
"When you recruited us, when you summoned us, we were already in this form. At least… this is how we were inside our Domains."
"Oh." Jurra scratched his head and thought. "Makes sense… I guess I never saw the inside of your castles. I only saw you in your combat forms, marching out or slaughtering."
The thought felt surreal.
Back on Earth, he was clicking and dragging, barking commands through his headset. Now he could feel the cold air brushing against his scaled skin, and could hear the hum of ancient power within him.
Then, Jurra felt pain.
Real, unmistakable pain.
Because he had dug his claws into his palm hard enough to bleed.
Several of the humanoid subordinates gasped.
Sephina took a step forward. "My Lord, are you wounded?!"
RexGodzilla snarled, scanning the room for threats. "Who dares harm the Overlord?!"
Jurra waved his hand. "Relax," he said outward but inside he was thinking, 'I just wanted to feel my flesh. I needed to confirm that this… this isn't a dream or a bugged-out immersion glitch.'
The expressions on their faces shifted. Eyes filled with worry, lips drawn tight, even the most fearsome among them held their breath.
Some reached out as if they wanted to touch him, comfort him, but held back.
Jurra took a deep breath. His instincts screamed that this was more than a game now. He wasn't just a player with units. He was a leader… maybe even a god to these people.
Still, he needed to know more.
He straightened his back. "This world. The outside. Have any of you ventured beyond?"
They all fell silent.
Then, slowly, one stepped forward—elegant and commanding, with a presence like royalty.
Sephina.
Jurra blinked.
That name… he hadn't thought of her in months.
Sephina, the Matriasaur. She had been one of his top-tier breeders, producing the elite troops that made up his main army. Her offspring had always inherited unique traits.
She bowed low. "Lord Jurra. We did venture outside. Or at least, we tried."
Her voice was calm but heavy with tension.
"You all… tried?"
"Yes. We all did. After your voice vanished, time stood still. But then, suddenly, one by one, we returned. As if pulled back into existence. We awoke in our castles, confused… but aware. Fully sentient. And yet, something felt wrong."
She continued, "There is no mana out there, Lord. Or rather, no magic atmosphere that we recognize. We felt… disconnected. None of us could leave. No matter how much power we used, it was as if something bound us here."
Jurra's claws twitched. "What do you mean, bound?"
"Our skills, spells, forms—all inaccessible. As if they were locked away. Like… like they were never meant to be used here."
Jurra's eyes widened.
"Cannot be accessed?" he muttered.
Soon, a heavy silence fell across the hall again.
Jurra placed his hands over his head, fingers threading through his dark, spiky hair as he stared into the distance.
Everything was starting to make sense now.
Every time a new expansion had dropped in War of Warlocks:
Metamorphosis Online, players who stepped into the expansion zone found their stats temporarily sealed.
Combat abilities, passive perks, even their beast forms—it all got locked.
Why? Because the expansion introduced new mechanics.
The game needed players to work through the content, to earn the right to regain their former power.
Progression through effort, through grinding, through resource acquisition.
Jurra had once cursed that mechanic. But now?
He exhaled slowly.
This was familiar and it was comforting.
Their abilities weren't gone. Just sealed.
And the fact that none of them could leave the territory?
Yeah.
That made sense too.
In past expansions, the starting zones were sealed off, protected.
Until the official release timer ticked to zero, players were trapped in the expansion's hub or stronghold, unable to step outside the boundaries.
A smile tugged at his lips. "So that's what this is…"
He lowered his arms and stood upright, back straight, eyes gleaming with recognition.
This… this was the new expansion.
But it felt so much more immersive. Too immersive.
Still, that was fine. He could roll with it. This realism, this detail—it was beyond anything he had experienced before.
The way he could feel the stone beneath his claws. The way he could smell the wind. The emotions on his subordinates' faces. The weight of their words.
It felt like this wasn't just a game anymore.
This was… something more.
"Tomorrow…" Jurra whispered to himself, "Tomorrow must be when it officially starts."
He turned to look at the commanders gathered before him, all standing with pride, nervous excitement, and silent anticipation.
He scanned their faces.
Some of the older ones… yeah, they got it. They'd been through this before.
RexGodzilla was nodding slowly, muttering to others.
"This is like the Wasteland Siege update," he said to a younger dinosaur woman who looked half-raptor, half-mage. "We couldn't even flap our wings until the resource nodes were rebuilt."
"The Evolution Lock," murmured BladeTail. "Yeah, this track. Our abilities aren't gone—they're under restriction until we meet the new world's requirements."
"I told you!" cried BloomJura, pointing a vine-wrapped hand at another healer. "This is a reset phase, not a curse!"
Jurra couldn't help but grin.
They understood.
This wasn't fear—it was war prep.
"I'm glad some of you remember," he said, arms behind his back. "This isn't just a random setback. It's because we're in a new world."
Gasps rippled through the room.
A few commanders dropped to one knee again.
A few looked at one another in a mixture of realization and awe.
"A new world," whispered SkyWing. "That means… another campaign."
"We'll conquer again?" said CryoMaw, ice mist puffing from her mouth in excitement.
Scorchfang's tail lit with a flicker of red. "Glory returns."
"Yes," Jurra said calmly.
His words sent a shiver of energy through the crowd.
The idea that their war was not over—that it was simply a new beginning—filled the air with purpose. Determination settled into their stances.
"Spread the word," Jurra commanded. "Train, prepare, and monitor the outer limits. Tomorrow, we march."
As the subordinates dispersed, Jurra closed his eyes and sighed.
He could finally relax.
That last battle—what was it again? Oh right, the Eternal Rift showdown with the Dragon Overlord—had nearly fried his brain. He had stayed up for two straight days commanding armies, managing buffs, shouting at his mic.
That kind of PvP chaos would drain anyone.
Now that he had a grip on this "expansion," he could afford to rest. There was no real threat until launch day. He needed to refresh his brain.
He smiled lazily to himself.
"System," he whispered.
And just like that, a glowing interface screen blinked into existence in front of him.
An elegant and floating semi-transparent screen.
A soft hum of digital energy resonated around it. No one else in the hall seemed to notice—it was like only he could see it.
Jurra tapped the side menu. It responded perfectly to his clawed finger.
Profile
Equipment
Inventory
Territory Stats
War Beasts
Dominion Panel
Audio Settings
Visual Settings
System Settings
He clicked on System Settings.
The familiar sub-menu appeared.
Controls
Notifications
Display Adjustments
Audio Calibrations
He scrolled down, expecting to see the usual.
Voice Commands Toggle
Exit to Title
But—
Jurra froze.
His eyes scanned the screen.
He scrolled back up. Then back down. Then up again.
No. No logout?
He frowned. Surely it was there. It had to be there.
He tapped the filters—alphabetical, recent, commonly used.
Still nothing.
He opened another panel. Territory Stats.
Maybe it was hidden in the submenus?
Nope. Just his territory growth numbers.
Back to System Settings. He opened every section. Voice Calibration. Input sensitivity. Combat delay settings.
No logout.
He narrowed his eyes, opened the hotkey configuration panel. Maybe there was a shortcut. But even under hotkey listings, nothing showed up for "Logout" or "Exit."
He opened Help.
FAQ
Tutorials
System Glossary
Tips & Tricks
He typed in "Logout."
No results found.
"What…?" he muttered.
He shook his head. Maybe this was a bug. Maybe the interface was glitching?
He whispered, "Logout."
Nothing.
"Exit Game."
Still nothing.
He said it louder. "System. Exit. Terminate session. Return to real world."
The interface flickered. Then went back to normal.
Jurra swallowed.
The faint hum around the system screen began to sound less like calm ambient tech… and more like a whisper.
The corners of his eyes twitched. His claws hovered over the screen again. Desperate now, he scrolled through every menu he hadn't opened yet. Checked every settings folder. Searched every button.
"Come on," he muttered. "Where is it…?"
Then, finally, something odd.
At the bottom of the main system screen, where the "Logout" should have been—was a small grayed-out box.
No label. No icon.
Just three dots pulsing.
He tapped it.
Nothing happened.
He tapped again. Harder.
Still nothing.
And then…
The dots vanished.
Replaced by a blinking text message.
[Feature Currently Unavailable.]
Jurra's pupils narrowed.
"…What?"
He scrolled back up. Down. Clicked again.
[Feature Currently Unavailable.]
His breathing grew shallow.
"…No logout?" he whispered.
And for the first time since arriving…
Jurra's eyes widened in real panic.