webnovel

Letheon: Forget your Past and Play the Game of the Future.

Lethe Online is a virtual reality game that has been around for over a decade. It is the most popular game in the world, and players from all over flock to it to escape their real lives. Aiken Clinton is a 12th grader who recently started playing Lethe Online. He is known for being the stupid rich kid in school, but in the game he is Czeill, the 13th strongest player in the world. One day, all of the top 15 players in Lethe Online are suddenly erased from every server. This causes chaos both inside and outside the game, as the players behind the avatars are also missing. Aiken woke up inside the game as a level 1 villager, with no memory of how or why he got there. He had no recollection of anything prior to an accident he couldn't quite remember. He had to start from scratch, but he was determined to find out what happened to the other players and get his old life back. Will Aiken be able to solve the mystery of the missing players? Will he be able to reclaim his old life? Or will he be trapped in Lethe Online forever? cover photo by: 藤ちょこ(藤原)

feat_rungaw · เกม
เรตติ้งไม่พอ
18 Chs

If you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried .3

"Welcome, esteemed guests," Myrpho's voice dripped with a sinister edge, each word carrying the weight of malevolent intent. His mocking tone seemed to mercilessly taunt the group, further accentuating their vulnerability while highlighting his own perceived dominance.

Beside him, stood three young girls, their dire circumstances painfully apparent. Shackled by the chains firmly held by Myrpho, they wore expressions etched with fear and helplessness—a stark contrast to the unwavering resolve that blazed within the eyes of Aiken, Aico, Mio, Mimic, and Neon. As a palpable tension saturated the air, it became unmistakably clear that an encounter of monumental significance was poised to unfold—a clash between determination and cruelty, between those who sought to protect and those who reveled in domination.

Myrpho's lips curled into a malicious smirk as he taunted, "Should you desire the return of your fairies, then venture to the mountaintop, where I shall await your presence, little prince and dark lord." The titles assigned to Aiken and Aico elicited scowls from their faces. Aiken's unease was palpable, as being referred to as the dark lord felt far from flattering coming from such a man. Meanwhile, Aico's annoyance was evident as he bristled at the label of "little," a moniker that grated on him despite his current youthful appearance. After all, he was still a 26-year-old trapped in a smaller frame.

Yet, their thoughts were swiftly overshadowed as Myrpho's maniacal laughter erupted, a twisted chorus that resonated through the air. His guild members joined in, their laughter forced and eerie, as if compelled by an unseen power, resulting in a dissonant symphony of forced mirth with Myrpho's crazed cackle serving as its haunting centerpiece.

"How on earth can he wield magic in this state without collapsing into a heap?" Aiken wondered aloud, his voice betraying his confusion. The group's attention pivoted towards him as they pondered the perplexing situation.

"Perhaps he underwent integration as well?" Neon ventured a guess, though his own comprehension of the events unfolding was tenuous at best. His knowledge was limited to the fact that the three girls before them were fairies, their ethereal forms taking on corporeal appearances upon contact with the chains, unlike their usual manifestation as fireflies fluttering around their respective Eves.

"However, our main concern should be those restraints on them," Aico interjected in a hushed tone, directing the group's focus back to the immediate threat.

Mimic, ever the skeptic, couldn't help but share his observation, "Because I can't help but notice that his laughter seems unnaturally prolonged, like a broken record of a villain's clichéd laughter." prompting Neon to deliver a sharp slap to his shoulder. "Get serious, will you?" Neon chided, eliciting an eye roll from Mio who couldn't help but find their antics exasperating. "Honestly, these people..." she thought to herself.

"Well then, now that I've had my fill of your contemptible faces, I shall take my leave," Myrpho sneered, his fingers tightening around the chains and causing the girls to visibly wince in pain, though they maintained a stoic silence in the face of their tormentor. The group's collective anger surged forth, their growls of frustration directed at the 15th top player.

In a sudden burst of shadow, reminiscent of the one Aiken had witnessed in the stadium when Ms. Ram, the ultimate player of them all, had made her entrance, a figure appeared and disappeared just as swiftly. Sco's voice rang out, calling Aiken's name, and he instinctively sprinted towards the ephemeral shadow, clutching the small sword they had provided him. Despite being a necromancer by nature and not reliant on physical weapons due to his army of minions, Aiken found himself defenseless as a mere villager, necessitating the use of a blade to protect himself.

The group, their forms scattered like leaves caught in a tempest, found themselves consumed by the voracious maw of the encroaching darkness. It swept over them with a chilling swiftness, obscuring all in its ebony embrace. Amidst the abyss, a sudden blaze of light erupted, slicing through the obscurity like a fleeting comet streaking across the night sky.

Aiken's instincts surged into action, his reflexes honed by countless battles within the game's virtual realm. With a fluid motion, he brandished his sword, its blade catching the luminous arc hurtling toward him. Yet, as steel met steel, a jolt of surprise coursed through his frame. The force behind the attack was far greater than he had anticipated, a surge of strength that threatened to knock him off balance.

His muscles strained and his heart raced, Aiken's determination burned bright. Clenching his teeth, he anchored his stance, channeling his energy into the earth beneath him. His body coiled and then sprang forth, a sudden pivot that transformed his defense into a resolute counter. The ground seemed to quiver beneath him as he pushed back, a surge of raw power propelling him forward.

The collision between their forces created a palpable shockwave, a fierce struggle between two titanic wills. The assailant, shrouded in the dissipating shadow, met Aiken's defiance head-on. Yet, inch by inch, Aiken's relentless resolve gained ground, his tenacity a testament to his unyielding spirit. With a final exertion, he harnessed every ounce of his strength, giving his push an unexpected bounce, a burst of kinetic energy that propelled his opponent back into the diminishing veil of darkness.

As the shadow receded, the echoes of their clash reverberated through the air, the night still vibrating with the residue of their confrontation. Aiken's breath came in heaves, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of triumph. Around him, his comrades emerged from the darkness, their eyes aflame with determination.

"The night is still young," Aiken declared, his voice ringing with a potent mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. The challenge had been met, the battle joined, and in the depths of that enigmatic night, a saga of destiny and valor was only just beginning to unfold.