Rebirth

Sitting on a throne carved from the coldest ice, a seat of power for one of the most enigmatic and feared figures in all the realms sat Jack His reputation, was as chilling as his throne.

Smirking maliciously, Jack held a shard of the crystal of chance in his hand, twirling it lazily between his fingers, his piercing gaze settling upon a figure knelt at his feet - a woman, once his fiercest rival.

The air was thick with the scent of defeat and the cold sting of triumph. The halls echoing with his voice, a blend of malice and satisfaction, as he addressed her, "Look at you now, at the end of our long rivalry between our guilds your Rainguards falling to my Dark Swords. This is all you amount to, a defeated pawn in my grand design. With this shard, my rule over Odyssey is not just affirmed, it is eternally secured."

Jack slowly bent down putting his arrogant face right in front of hers, the air around him crackling with the raw energy of the magic from the shard. Although with a face obscured by shadows and darkness. She was none other than Khione, leader of the Rainguards Guild.

Despite being on the losing end, she had a confident air around her. Frowning Jack felt something was wrong. No matter how strong a person was having everything you've built crumble down at the hands of one sole man would elicit some form of anger.

The lack of such a response from Khione put Jack on edge. Without wasting any more time gloating, he executed her using his blade which was known as the best sword in 'Odyssey.' The game had seen an exponential increase in publicity in the 12 years since its release becoming what some would say to be the real world. But to Jack all of those people were insane.

He had started from the lowest position within the game an information gatherer, people who were treated the worst out of everyone and got little to nothing in return for their work, for none other than the guild Rainguards.

Back then he had to fight tooth and nail showcasing his skill as a player rising through the ranks of the guild and eventually becoming a vice guild leader 3 years later.

After that, he was quickly recognized as one of the top players in the global ranking, taking the 5th spot.

Unfortunately, 2 of the 4 above him were what seemed like centuries away from his base or he would be 3rd. The 1st and 2nd global rankers though being complete freaks of nature Jack had gone against them multiple times only ever tying with the 2nd global ranker once before. 

It was around this time that the Guild Leader, Khione, realized Jack knew the secret to her power within the game and tried to silence him trying to get him into a sexual relationship with her and blackmailing him when this turned over no results, she eventually had everyone he was close to silenced failing to kill him in the process too.

He then left the Rainguards and swore to erase them from existence for the murder of his family, creating Dark Swords and raising them within the top-ranking guilds within 5 years.

Then came the chaotic conflicts between the two guilds which resulted in many elites on both sides being assassinated in and out of the game, Jack had even performed a few himself on certain higher-ups.

'Odyssey' was a cruel world, especially when you were at the top. It was the equivalent of being in the jungle in the real world, your life was always in danger one way or another.

Jack stared at the shard in his hands, lost in thoughts of the past, and coming to terms with his hatred and vengeance. With Khione and the Rainguards being abolished, his quest was complete. But something felt off about Khiones behavior. Something was telling Jack that this fight was not over just yet. 

"Guild Leader, the preparations for the attunement to the shard are complete. Will you begin the process now?" asked one of the elders of the guild.

Pulled from the inner parts of his mind, Jack shook his head. " In an hour. There's something I need to take care of first."

Logging off for the first time in months, he exited his gaming pod, a capsule of advanced technology that had become his throne.

The transition was jarring; the stark, unadorned room was a stark contrast to the lavish halls of his fortress.

His body, unaccustomed to physical movement after such prolonged immersion, felt awkward and heavy. His muscles protested in silent rebellion as he staggered to his feet, a far cry from the powerful figure he embodied in the game.

Hunger, a sensation long ignored in the depths of virtual battles, gnawed at him. He shuffled towards the kitchen, his steps uncertain and clumsy.

The fridge hummed a lonely tune in the silent apartment. Extracting a simple slice of ham and a glass of water, he barely registered the taste, his mind still entangled in the web of his conquests and the lingering sensation of the Shard of the Crystal of Chance.

But as he stood there, a shadow loomed, a presence unnoticed in his distracted state. An assailant, motives unknown, launched a violent attack. The fight was nothing like the strategic duels of 'Odyssey'; it was brutal, desperate, and entirely physical.

Jack, weakened by months of inactivity and unprepared for real-world violence, was no match. The scuffle was brief, fierce, and ended with him being hurled through the window. Glass shattering, a rain of sharp daggers following his descent into the dark, rat-infested alley below.

The cold hard ground greeted him with unforgiving brutality. Pain flared briefly before his body went numb, a sure sign of a broken spine. Paralyzed, Jack lye there in the snow the cold seeping into his bones, a chilling contrast to the warmth of his gaming pod. Hypothermia setting in, each shiver a stark reminder of his vulnerability in the real world.

And then, the rats came. Drawn by the scent of blood and the stillness of his body, they began their grim feast. Jack, trapped in a body that no longer obeyed him, could only watch in horror.

As the life ebbed from his body, Jack's thoughts drifted to the world he had conquered, and the battles he had won. In the world of 'Odyssey', he had been a legend. But here, in the cold embrace of an uncaring world, he was just another forgotten soul, his final moments marked by the gnawing of rats and the creeping chill of death.

The gnawing pain, and the icy grip of hypothermia, all seemed to fade into a distant echo. Then, abruptly, there was a jolt, like being pulled back from the brink of an endless chasm.