Chapter 6: White Lotus

Inside the castle, the transformation was breathtaking—a stark contrast to the murky atmosphere outside. The interior exuded an ethereal beauty with soaring ceilings and pillars carved from glass-like stone that shimmered with their own inner light. The floors were paved with smooth, opalescent tiles that seemed to glow softly underfoot, guiding Klade and the multitude of other adventurers deeper into the castle's heart.

Asura, comfortably perched on Klade's shoulder, cast wary glances around, his senses sharpened for any signs of danger. His ears twitched at the soft echo of hundreds of voices whispering strategies and marveling at their surroundings.

"This is beautiful…" Asura blushed.

"I'm just ready for the boss." Klade pouted.

"Take a moment to just admire the beauty around you! We've never been in a castle dungeon before have you?"

"Not really. But it's weird. Where's the boss?"

Other players pointed at things, talking about them, and saying amongst one another:

"It smells like cake in here."

"You smell that too?! This game is too real!"

Klade moved with an air of cautious curiosity, his eyes scanning every detail of the castle's luxurious decor. Chandeliers crafted from what appeared to be frozen light dangled from the high ceilings, casting a soft luminescence that made the air itself seem to sparkle.

'Weird. No enemies at all. I don't sense any serious hostility. A dungeon with no enemies waiting for us at the door is new to me. Not even small annoying ones. Asura would usually grow at something that was dangerous, but he's content. This….is so boring!' 

Klade yelled with his hands in the air, "AGHH! Where the boss?!"

Players around him scoffed, "Shhhh! You might wake them up or something."

"Good! Let them wake up!"

"Never seen anything like this," murmured a player to Klade's left, a young mage with eyes as wide as saucers. 

"It's like stepping into a legend..." replied another, a warrior with a voice used more to shouting commands than whispering in awe.

Voices from the Eternal Guardian guild, recognizable by their crimson cloaks and coordinated movements, carried over the murmuring crowd. 

"We must be vigilant," Orsik, saying in a low, gruff voice. "This beauty could easily be a facade for peril. Keep your eyes peeled."

Locke, nodded in agreement. "Formations should still be kept," he advised, adjusting the hilt of his sword. "Let's not be lulled into complacency by pretty walls. If Klade has to take us seriously, we stay formal."

Seraphine, her hair catching the light as she walked, added, "True, but let us also appreciate what might once have been a place of peace. These halls speak of a history we are yet barely touching."

Zenith, the quietest yet most observant, pointed toward the walls lined with paintings. "This is just a game. But Look at those," he suggested, drawing the group's attention to the artworks.

Klade, overhearing Zenith, drifted closer to examine the paintings more closely. Each depicted members of what seemed to be the same family, all adorned in flowing white garments with unsettlingly glowing white hair. Every painting displayed a different scene: one showed a grand banquet, another a harsh battle with luminous swords, and yet another a serene scene featuring cosmic alignments.

Curiosity piqued, Klade couldn't help but admire the detail in each stroke, the way the painter captured the light reflecting off their hair, giving each figure an almost divine appearance.

'These paintings…I can see the creases on the borders, no signs of technology or anything in them. They went to such lengths to make this game as real as it gets huh? Way better than the real world.'

"Those glowing locks... could they be some sort of royalty or gods?" Klade mused aloud.

Asura sniffed the air as if trying to catch a scent of the figures immortalized on the canvas. 

"That's them!"

"Who?"

"The beings of light who fought those demigods..and right after, all of this happened."

"Who the hell are they?"

"I don't even know, Klade."

"That's a family that knew power, you can tell," a passing rogue chimed in, eyes locked on a painting where a young figure commanded an array of mythical beasts.

The adventurers continued their trek, the conversation around them a swirl of speculation about the castle's origins and the identity of its former inhabitants. The deeper into the castle they ventured, the more grandiose the scenery became. Statues of alabaster lined the halls, each depicting warriors in various poses of battle and victory, contributing to the mystique of the place.

Finally, the corridor widened, and the group found themselves standing before a massive door. It towered above them, the surface glowing softly with intricate gold runes that pulsed rhythmically, as if breathing. The light from the door reflected off Klade's and others' faces, casting them in a heavenly glow.

Orsik raised his hand, signaling the group to halt. "This is no ordinary door," he declared, his voice thick with a mix of awe and caution.

Locke ran his fingers near the runes, not touching them, as if feeling their energy. "There's magic here older and more potent than any I've ever felt," he observed grimly.

Seraphine stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the glowing barriers. "Whatever lies beyond, it's meant to be found only by those brave enough to face the unknown," she spoke softly, yet her voice carried through the crowd.

Zenith merely nodded, his eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to decipher the patterns of the runes.

Klade, with Asura still vigilant on his shoulder, took a deep breath, his hand resting on his hammer. "Well, looks like that's our cue," he said, rallying the surrounding players with a confident smirk.

The massive door stood silent, a final gatekeeper to secrets untold, its glowing runes whispering of challenges and destiny.

The grand door, adorned with ancient golden runes, stood as a formidable barrier to the crowd of players. Whispered debates and frantic searching filled the atmosphere as everyone scrambled for clues that might reveal how to unlock this arcane gateway.

"Perhaps these runes correspond to a star constellation? Or maybe they represent key battles fought by this family?" one quizical player proposed, running his fingers along symbols that felt as ancient as the castle itself.

"It could be a phrase or a riddle related to their legacy," another player suggested, her eyes scanning over the intricate carvings with a thoughtful frown.

Meanwhile, Orsik of the Eternal Guardian guild drew his group together, "Focus on combinations. Think about real world familial relationships or historical events that could be relevant."

Locke examined the door closely, "I suspect these symbols are not just decorative. They are part of a larger puzzle tied to the castle's former inhabitants."

Seraphine added, her voice carrying a hint of excitement, "And these people were no ordinary beings. Look at the aura in their paintings—the white glow, the regal demeanor. They were clearly powerful."

Zenith, ever the observer, noted, "Every rune could be an integral part of understanding their story. Maybe they are not so much a lock but a legacy."

Klade, with Asura alert on his shoulder, grew thoughtful as he listened to the others. He glanced back towards the paintings they had passed earlier. "What if the answer is right there in those pictures? Maybe it's about understanding who they were, not just what is written," he muttered to Asura.

Asura, eyes glowing slightly, replied, "Yes, each scene might represent more than a moment in their lives—perhaps it's a clue."

Together, they walked back to the gallery of paintings. Each scene suddenly seemed like pieces of a larger puzzle. "Look, this painting where they're at a banquet. Notice how the old man's placed at the head of the table? And in this battle scene, the younger one leads the charge," Klade observed, pointing at the images.

"And in this one, where the family is observing the stars, the woman stands slightly forward, as if she's the one explaining the cosmos," Asura added thoughtfully.

Klade nodded, an idea forming. "It's not just who they are, it's about their roles, their positions—hierarchy or importance maybe."

[Ding!]

A message popped up in front of Klade.

Klade read it, and his straight-face expression turned into a grin.

Asura sighed, "No way."

Klade celebrated, "Finally! Stay here, Asura."

"Please let me come with you!"

"It's alright. It'll be fine. I'll be back. You have to stay to let me know if there's a boss here too."

"Fine fine."

In the heart of the other crumbling castle, encircled by ancient stone pillars etched with the marks of old battles, the wounded warriors found themselves pressed into desperation. Dust and debris lay scattered beneath their footing, painting a bleak tableau of their grim odds. The air, heavy with a tense silence, was abruptly shattered by the emergence of Grendell, the monstrous wolf entity renowned within those cursed walls.

Grendell, fearsome and majestic, towered over the brave band of players. His large, imposing form sprouted four sinewy tails, each gripping a longsword, their blades ablaze with ghostly white flames that danced like spectral serpents in the chill castle air. The gold runes that patterned his dense fur pulsed with an ominous energy, enhancing his imposing presence as his sharp teeth gleamed menacingly in the shadowy light.

Suddenly, the ground shuddered as Grendell dropped down, his massive paws crushing the stone beneath. With astonishing speed, he darted toward the warriors, the menace in his eyes promising doom.

In the heat of the moment, one of the players, his resources dwindling, knew it was time for a bold move. Desperate, he utilized all his remaining shards to invoke the summoning system. Placing his hand firmly on the cold ground, he felt the energy drain from him, even as the system screen emerged before his eyes:

[System: Summoning Initiated - Compiling Resources…]

The air vibrated with potential, a crescendo of otherworldly power building as the summoning crest flared to life. The stones etched symbols ignited in a vibrant light, heralding the arrival of an-other force.

"Please show up…these were the last of the shards I have…"

'This hurts…this hurts so bad…it's a pain I've never felt before…I can feel my pulse, my heartbeat…why is this so immersive?! Please hurry, Klade!'

[System: Klade the Dragonhound Blacksmith, has been summoned]

From the heart of the luminous crest, a figure rose slowly. Klade, with a menacing grin spreading across his battle-hardened face, outlined with a white glow, stood before the distressed warriors. 

Klade said, "Wow, you guys are really taking this game seriously. Laying all over the floor and stuff. Cool."

The player screamed, "This isn't a game! It's hell!"

"Nice role play . I applaud you."

As the so-called 'violent strings' resounded—boss battle epic music, a unique composition filled with thundering drums and the clash of steel—Klade faced the monstrous wolf. With little hesitation and immense power coiled in his muscled frame, he launched forward and delivered an explosive punch directly into Grendell's maw.

"What the-?!" Grendell exclaimed.

The impact of Klade's punch was monumental. Rumbles of thunder echoed through the castle as streaks of white energy shot forth. Grendell, caught by the surprise and force of the blow, was sent flying. His massive body crashed through the ancient stone pillars, each meeting his weight with a resounding crack before yielding to destruction. Yet, the creature was not so easily defeated. Skidding across the rubble-strewn floor, Grendell managed a swift recovery, flipping back up onto his massive feet with a snarl, eyeing Klade with renewed fury.

Grendell, slowly walking to the right, snarled, "Who are you…?"

Klade replied, "Klade the Dragonbound Blacksmith. I solo bosses on my own for fun. And why do you resemble those people in the pictures in the other castle?"

"Fool. Do not refer to my family as people. The principle of royalty extends through this new world, as many call the Apocalypse. But it is now known as Carnage, for the demigods before this land had corrupted the lands and its inhabitants. The entire lands is full of carnage, darkness, and despair, but the family shall build it anew with rule. But some still lurk and have crafted new descendants, as they have scattered the lands to—."

"—Are we gonna fight or what?"

Players exchanged tense glances, knowing this summoned ally could shift the balance but at what cost? The system log flashed momentarily as it processed the recent action and calculated the impending consequences of the summon.

[System: Shard Reserve Depleted. Attribute Penalty Enacted]

When players cast a summon crest, it was usually crafted with ingredients or purchased for 10 shards at a nearby merchant. But the penalty is a negative attribute penalty to all stats, and all remaining shards are gone forever.

As the dust settled and the eerie silence of the castle halls wrapped around them like a cloak, Klade raised his hand, reaching into the shimmering system window that hung like a specter in the air. His fingers grasped something substantial yet unseen, pulling from the digital realm into tangible reality. With a flourish, he drew forth two fearsome chain daggers, each blade jagged and gleaming with an ominous white glow. The dark purple runes etched into their surfaces pulsed with a deadly promise.

[System: Weapon Acquired - Name: Nether Chains. Rank: Demi-God. Description: Twin daggers linked by unbreakable dark ether chains, capable of brutal and explosive attacks. Available skills - 7.]

As Klade's form blurred slightly, a radiant halo appeared above his head, signaling his ascension in power. The eerie sounds of the castle merged with the clinking of the chains as Klade maneuvered, ready to engage in a cataclysmic battle.

Grendell, the formidable wolf, stood opposed. With every leap, a white flaming lotus flower blossomed at his feet, marking the earth with scorch marks shaped like mystical petals. This phenomenon not only heightened his ferocity but allowed him to harness his energy, each flower boosting his strength and speed tremendously.

Klade laughed, "Let's do this!"

Klade spun, the Nether Chains whipping around him as he approached Grendell at breakneck speed. The wolf countered, slashing with his flame-wrapped longsword, creating arcing trails of fire in the air. The two met mid-leap, chains clashing against sword with a loud clang that reverberated through the cavernous space, sparks showering around them—each trying to gain the upper hand in a display of sheer power and agility. Klade's chains entwined around one of Grendell's swords, tugging sharply. The maneuver forced Grendell downwards where a swift, brutal kick from Klade connected with his side, sending him skidding across the rubble. Not to be underestimated, Grendell rolled, utilizing the momentum to rise and unleash a barrage of fiery slashes that Klade narrowly avoided by vaulting backwards onto a broken pillar.

In mid-air, the two combatants clashed again. Klade, using the chains to swing forward, attempted a downward strike with his daggers; Grendell countered by launching himself off the newly formed lotuses, his swords creating a devastating circular flame. The collision resulted in a shockwave, scattering petals of fire across the battlefield. Back on the ground, Grendell intensified his attack, his paws pounding the ground, causing flame-riddled fissures to erupt. As Klade dodged the explosive earth, he whipped his chains forward, lashing Grendell across the facade, drawing first blood—a spectacular display of violet and crimson against the backdrop of blazing white.

'Something's weird…' Klade thinks.

Klade twirled, his chains cutting through both air and flame, creating a whirlwind that momentarily enveloped Grendell. Within this swirling vortex of power, Klade delivered a series of close-up strikes with his daggers. Each chain-dagger dug deep, marking Grendell's golden fur with stark, vivid lines of red. Grendell roared in fury and pain, retaliating with a massive tail swing that caught Klade off-guard, slamming him against a stone column.

"AGH!" Klade exclaimed, shaking his head.

'What the hell…. That actually hurt…? And my durability stat is maxed out, how did I get hurt just from that?!'

The other players, who were trying to heal themselves, saw this, saying to each other:

"Klade is actually hurt?!"

"How strong is that damn wolf?!"

"We need to get out! Can we log out?!"

"It won't let me!"

"Me either!"

Klade overheard them, saying, "You guys are taking this way too seriously. Take a chill pill for a second. This game just too immersive for you? Go log out then."

"This isn't a game! I can feel my own pulse!"

"That's a part of the immersion. Magic doesn't exist. Of course this isn't real. Get yourselves together."

With Klade temporarily dazed, Grendell seized the moment. He leaped from lotus to lotus, each jump amplifying his next move. As he reached the peak of his momentum, Grendell descended upon Klade with a thunderous roar, his swords ablaze and aimed deadly blows that Klade narrowly escaped by rolling away, the heat singing his hair.

Regaining his footing, Klade flicked his wrists, extending the reach of his chains, aiming to ensnare Grendell's legs. The wolf, quick on the recoil, evaded and lashed out, his sword aiming a piercing blow that Klade blocked with a chain-wrapped forearm, the impact sending shockwaves up his arm.

Using the chains to ascend, Klade launched himself above Grendell, spinning in a deadly descent. Grendell met his attack with raised swords, the clash of their weapons a terrifying symphony of metal and flame. Sparks flew as Klade managed a glancing blow across Grendell's snout, drawing more blood amidst a chorus of growls and grunts.

Grendell exclaimed, "You're not as weak as those humans over there. Tell me…how did you all gain access to this realm?"

Klade laughed, "The developers really outdid themselves this time! Wall breaking NPC's!"

'It is strange though. I can't see the stats of this bastard. Or his rank, level, or health bar.'

Enraged, Grendell abandoned precision for sheer power, his attacks becoming wild and erratic yet devastating. He lunged, swords sweeping in broad, deadly arcs. Klade's agility was put to the test as he backflipped, somersaulted, and pivoted, each move a calculated dance of life and death. Klade seized an opening, his chains darting out like serpents, wrapping around one of Grendell's swords. With a yank, he disarmed the wolf, pulling the fiery blade from its wielder's grasp and grasping it. Unbalanced, Grendell growled, but Klade was relentless, delivering a flurry of rapid stabs that pushed the wolf back.

'He's using my own weapon against me…the dishonor…' Grendell thought.

Not one to be underestimated, Grendell roared back into the fray, his remaining sword now a blur of motion, each strike leaving trails of flame in its wake. Klade was hard-pressed to defend, the intensity of the battle reaching a fever pitch.

With renewed vigor, Klad lunged, his chains slicing through the air, targeting Grendell's limbs. The wolf dodged, countering with a tail sweep that Klade barely avoided by leaping, his silhouette outlined against the flickering flames—a moment of beauty in the brutal ballad of their war.

"I'm having fun, aren't you?!" Klade asked.

"Fun is for the weak. It's only true redemption that should be the reward for blood that has been shed."

In the heat of battle, Klade's form shimmered slightly, an indication of his increasing command over the Nether Chains. With an intense concentration and a raw shout, the daggers along the chains reconfigured, melding seamlessly into his limbs—arms and legs alike turning into lethal, elongated blades. Grendell, fueled by rage and desperation, charged forward, his sword aimed directly at Klade's heart. Meeting his attack, Klade sidestepped with uncanny speed, his leg-blades sweeping out to slice at Grendell's flank, cutting through fur and flesh relentlessly.

"Always tricks?" Grendell asked.

"I don't do tricks."

"So full of yourself, the oppressor is always the one who is oppressed."

"You don't know me."

Klade now moved with the fluidity and grace of a deadly storm. Each limb worked independently, a full extension of his will, turning his body into a whirlwind of blades. Grendell, struggling to keep pace, unleashed a flurry of sword strikes, only to meet the cold, hard steel of Klade's daggers at every turn. Blood, both violet and crimson, splattered the stone beneath them, Grendell wincing at each fresh wound that Klade inflicted with surgical precision. Corralled into desperation, Grendel used his enhanced leaping ability, trying to outmaneuver Klade's relentless attacks. Jumping from one flaming lotus to another, he gained a momentary aerial advantage. With a snarl, Grendel descended, swords poised to strike. But Klade, eyes glowing with an unearthly light, spun, his entire body a lethal weapon, and met Grendel mid-air. The clash was thunderous, a spectacle of sparks and flame, Klade's blades meeting Grendel's swords with a force that sent shockwaves throughout the hall.

The other players couldn't keep up with their insane movement and speed, often getting dizzy just by looking at them.

Landing gracefully, Klade didn't wait for Grendell to recover. He spun rapidly, becoming a blur of movement, each limb striking with the intent to incapacitate. With a particularly vicious sweep, he targeted Grendell's legs, his blade-legs finding their mark and slashing deeply. Grendell howled in agony, collapsing onto the ground, his white flames flickering weakly around his form.

"That power..the power to craft…" Grendell spoke.

As Grendell struggled to rise, Klade walked towards him, his blade-limbs retracting to form once more into the chained daggers—this time, gleaming brighter under the spectral halo above him. With a fluid motion, he whipped the chains horizontally, catching Grendell across the chest, drawing deep gashes that spurted lines of blood. Grendell's growls filled the chamber, mixing pain with simmering wrath.

Klade's every movement was now a display of mastery over the combat arts, his body moving in complete harmony with the chained blades. Each strike was not just an attack but a proclamation of his power. Grendell, driven to the brink, tried rallying his dwindling strength, his fur matted with blood, eyes blazing with defiance. With Grendell weakened and staggering, Klade ceased his forward assault, stepping lightly on his toes as if beginning a dancer's choreography. Arms raised, he started a slow, mesmerizing dance that seemed to draw the very energy of the air around him. Spectral blades, similar to his own Nether Chains, began to coalesce around them, forming a swirling halo of deadly promise.

With a sudden halt to his dance, Klage slammed his fist into the ground, sending a command that turned the spectral blades toward Grendell, who tried in vain to escape. The blades pierced through him, pinning him to the ground amidst a garden of flaming lotuses, the sight a stark and brutal testament to the battle's ferocity. As the light faded from Grendell's eyes and his body lay defeated, covered in blades that glittered with a ghastly light, Klade stood, his halo shimmering more brightly than ever. With no further glance at his fallen adversary, Klade's form pixelated, disintegrating into countless motes of light that whispered back to the realm from whence he came, leaving behind the silence of victory and the echoes of a battle that would become legend.

"See you guys!" Klade said to the players. "I had fun. Now I have to go back to my boring group."

He was gone, and the players said, "He's strange."

"It was definitely a good idea to summon him. We need to figure out how to leave this place..I'm scared." Another one said.

"Don't worry, we'll find a way.".

As the silent chamber seethed with the aftermath of their brutal combat, a deep, resonant roar shook the fractured stone beneath. The blades impaling Grendell began to melt, dripping away in steaming rivulets of molten metal. Alongside them, Grendell's tattered form also began to dissolve, melting into an ambiguous form that pulsed with intense white flames.

The players gasped, slowly standing up.

"What's going on?!"

"No way…"

As the form melted, a voice, potent and resonating, echoed through the chamber, revealing a depth of authority yet unheard. "I am the consort of the Sovereign of the Ethereal Veil, the guardian of its ancient legacy, the heart of King Rothgar himself," the voice declared, transforming the perception of the battle-scarred beast. "Know me not as Grendell, but as the keeper of balance, nurturer of destruction and life."

From the smoldering remnants arose not the grotesque figure of a defeated beast, but a deity-like presence framed in a halo of swirly white flames. Around her new form, which bore no semblance to the ferocious creature from before, large glowing white flowers bloomed from the blood-soaked earth, resonating with ethereal energy. Suspended in the air above her, a massive sword materialized, wreathed in flaming white light. She reached out, her slender hands grasping the hilt of the sword, completing her transformation.

Her appearance was stunning—long golden hair flowed down over a long, flowing white dress that shimmered with a spectral elegance. Covering her face was a glowing white mask adorned with gold lotus runes, shaped to reveal only her eyes, establishing an impression of serene majesty.

"Behold the relentless cycle," she proclaimed, her voice melding sorrow and strength. "In the throes of apocalypse, we nurture, we balance, and, yes, we must also destroy. All that has begun must one day end, only to be reborn anew from the ashes of its predecessor. Only the righteous rulers can deliver us from evil."

As she stepped forward, the newly transformed deity moved past the battle-worn soldiers who, only moments before, had struggled to recover from their injuries. With an effortless gesture, faster than the blink of an eye, the heads of the soldiers were severed, their bodies collapsing in silence. With each step, she gathered their escaping souls into her hands, an act of both mercy and dominance.

Turning slightly, her masked face reflecting the dimming light of the dying fires, she addressed the air with a voice of calm but unmistakable intent. "To the one who defeated me in combat… Klade, was it? We shall meet again, in another dance of creation and destruction."

With those final words, the figure vanished, her form dissipating into the white flames that had heralded her transformation. The chamber, once filled with the clamor of battle, settled into a haunting stillness, the remembering echo of her presence lingering like a promise—or a threat—in the air.

"With every death, there is power. Dear Klade, you have only made me stronger.."