Kami Kaze remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the throne. Thoughts raced through his mind. Finally, he looked at Yumi.
"Do you think… any of them will ever come back?"
Yumi hesitated. For a second, it seemed like even she didn't know. In the end, she sighed deeply.
"I don't know… but deep down…
I know they won't."
Both were silent for a while. Then Raiden straightened up, shook off the heavy thoughts, and nodded to Yumi.
"Come, let's see how our guild is doing,"
he said simply.
They stepped forward together, their footsteps echoing through the dark corridor, where faint light flickered on the smooth stone walls. There was a strange atmosphere—not suffocating or frightening, but filled with an ancient echo of friendship and power shared among the guild members.
The walls were adorned with huge murals, depicting the guild's greatest moments—times of great triumph and their eventual decline. Among them stood statues—no, colossal golems—each carved in the likeness of former members. Perfect replicas. Their stone eyes seemed almost alive, as if they were watching anyone who passed by.
Figures appeared at the end of the hallway. Maids in beautiful dresses moved with unnatural grace, their steps silent and elegant. Delicate lace and gilded embroidery adorned their garments, but their faces… were hidden behind masks. Each had a different pattern, a unique symbol, and yet all emanated the same cold detachment.
Raiden and Yumi passed them. The maids bowed slightly without a word and remained silently at their places.
In Eterna Skirmish Online, players could design their NPC characters entirely according to their imagination. There were no restrictions, except for the rule that banned 18+ content.
In Eterna Skirmish Online, abbreviated as ESO, every player could choose between three main racial groups: Heteromorphic, Humanoid, and Demihumanoid.
Humanoid races included elves, half-elves, dwarves, gnomes, aasimars, halflings, and others. They were known for their diversity and balanced abilities. These races had excellent magical skills, strong talents, and highly adaptable traits, making them very popular among players.
Demihumanoid races were, on the other hand, less attractive at first glance and often had distinctive appearances. These included orcs, lizardfolk, cyclopes, and others. While they usually lacked beauty or charm, their combat strength was typically impressive. This group was known for its endurance, physical power, and ability to survive in harsh conditions, making them invaluable in combat and survival situations.
Heteromorphic races were highly distinct and came with higher (mostly offensive) stats. They had unique abilities that gave them great advantages in battles. However, their uniqueness was also balanced by their drawbacks. Although their combat power and durability were overwhelming, their appearance and exceptional abilities made them vulnerable in certain areas—both in interactions with other races and in more delicate situations.
There were a total of a thousand playable races in the game, each with unique abilities, lore, and the potential to influence the world of Eterna Skirmish Online. Players could choose from thousands of race, class, and skill combinations to shape their gameplay experience.
They finally arrived.
Before them stood a colossal gate—dark and terrifying—adorned with depictions of torment and suffering. Hardened wood and cold metal merged into a massive entrance, its surface carved with faces twisted in immortal agony. They looked almost alive, as if trying to scream, but their voices were lost in endless pain.
Above the gate hovered a giant skull with massive curved horns. Its empty eye sockets glowed with a dim red light, giving the impression that it was watching everyone who approached—like a predator stalking its prey.
Between the massive wings of the gate ran a narrow crack from which a dim glow emanated—a red line that resembled a path.
Mist crawled around, thick and strangely heavy, while in the distance the cries of unknown creatures echoed and the atmosphere vibrated intensely.
This gate was not just an entrance to the guild.
Now, with only two of the original fifty-seven members standing before it, it felt melancholic. It used to be lively here—laughter, arguments, strategy meetings for upcoming battles, hours spent building something greater than themselves. Now, only Raiden—Kami Kaze—and Yumi remained.
Yet they held no grudge. They understood that surviving in the real world was more important than the game. Life moved on, and their former comrades had to find their own paths. Some vanished without a word, others tried to stay in touch, but over time their messages became more infrequent, until they stopped altogether. It was inevitable.
They had to accept it. Even though they stood alone, they knew the guild they had built together was once a home to many. And as long as the two of them remained, at least the memory of their shared effort wouldn't disappear completely.
Raiden and Yumi looked at the gate for a moment. Then, without a word, they entered.
The gate they passed through wasn't just any entrance—it was a symbol of their guild, their friendship, the result of countless hours of hard work and significant investment. It took them months to complete. Every member contributed—some with skills, others with time, and the most devoted even with their own money, sacrificing everything they could spare to build such a monumental structure.
The doors themselves were made from the rarest materials they could find in the depths of dungeons. Magical crystals, in-game treasures of great value, and other artifacts formed the core of the structure, ensuring not only immense durability but also an imposing aura that radiated from them. Every stone was carefully shaped to fit perfectly.
When the gate finally stood in place, each of them felt pride.
During those months of construction, their friendship solidified. They weren't just ordinary guild members or players—they were family. Shared nights of planning, mining rare materials in dungeon depths, hunting monsters and raiding bosses, endless discussions about how to improve protective spells—each of them put a part of themselves into this creation.
When Raiden and Yumi stepped inside, they were greeted by a colossal, gigantic hall made of black marble. Each step on the polished floor echoed, reverberating off the massive ornate columns lining the space. In the center stood a long, dark table, its surface smooth like obsidian. At its heart rested a throne—black, tall, beautiful, and carved with symbolic engravings. And upon it lay the Black Crown—a divine-class item that once symbolized leadership over the guild.
On both sides of the hallway stood twenty-one massive doors, each leading to a different guild floor. Each gate was guarded by powerful beings. Seventeen of them were protected by demons from Solomon's grimoires—manifested nightmares with eyes burning with hellfire and bodies constantly shifting between matter and shadow. Five doors, however, were guarded by angels with animal faces—beings embodying the highest angelic orders, their wings of flame casting a muted glow upon the hallway's cold stone.
Each floor was distinct. They were separate worlds, each with its own rules, its own landscape, and its own deadly protections. Each had been meticulously crafted to reflect the style and vision of the guild members who once designed it. And most importantly—each was guarded by incredibly powerful NPCs, whose levels ranged from 500 to 560.
The floors they created were representations of what existed in the real world. The first floor stretched out like an endless, beautiful grassy plain, scattered with stunning flowers whose scent drifted on the wind. The sun never set in this world, and the sky was as clear as the brightest summer day. It was a place of peace—so perfect it felt almost unreal.
Other floors were an ode to human civilization—magnificent cities that truly existed in the world beyond the screen. Grand cathedrals, ornate bridges, bustling marketplaces, alleyways full of lights and life—architecture from old Japan and other cultures was captured here with such precision that even those familiar with these places would have been awed. Every street, every temple was a masterpiece.
Another floor was like a gateway to infinity—a vast ocean or sea, its waves gently lapping against a soft, sandy shore. The salty scent, the sound of the sea, and the shimmering surface of the water sparkling like gemstones under the moonlight—this world was so calm and silent, it felt almost treacherous.
But not all the floors were paradises. Some guild members had poured into their creations the evil they carried inside.
One of the floors was pure hell—flames devoured the landscape, rivers of lava sluggishly rolled between the charred ruins of once-majestic structures. The sky here did not exist—only endless darkness laced with red lightning, illuminating the grotesque figures of demonic guardians.
Another floor was a prison, where eternal suffering was not just a punishment but part of the very essence of the place. Black bars, cold stone walls, the constant echo of chains, and the quiet wails of those imprisoned there. This place wasn't just a space—it was a feeling: hopelessness, loss of hope, the knowledge that there was no escape.
Every floor was unique.
Yumi looked around in surprise. She had expected that no one would be here anymore, that the guardians who once watched over this hall had long disappeared—either withdrawn or personally destroyed by former guild members. And yet they still stood there, motionless, just as they had when first placed.
"Hah… maybe they left them here on purpose," Yumi chuckled, amused, as she looked at the guardians who looked exactly as they had before—imposing, motionless, and deadly.
She decided to try it. Only those who had created these beings could issue them commands, but each was programmed to also obey orders from anyone who was a guild member. She raised her hand and gave a clear command: "Dismiss."
The figures didn't move. They simply dissolved into the air, as if their existence had vanished into nothingness. And yet they hadn't disappeared—they were NPCs, bound to the system, their essence not so easily erased.
Raiden and Yumi moved to the long, dark table and sat down in ornate chairs. As soon as they sat, a blue screen appeared before them in elegant gothic lettering:
"Lords of Kuro no Tenshi. Glory!"
It was a greeting they had once created as part of the guild's interface—a small but pleasant reminder of old times.
Without hesitation, they began clicking through the status lines.
First option—Guild status.
100% operational.
Raiden nodded slightly.
"At least something hasn't changed."
Then they clicked on territory management.
The guild Kuro no Tenshi had ruled several territories. It was the result of hard-fought wars against players of other races that took place in the past. These conflicts, however, rarely ended in the guild's favor—even though Kuro no Tenshi possessed several divine and even world-class items, their armies were smaller, poorly coordinated, and often unprepared for prolonged battles.
While individual guild members were among the most powerful players in the game, their territorial conquest strategies were chaotic. Attacks were uncoordinated, without clear leadership, and often ended in crushing defeat.
That changed when Raiden proposed a complete reorganization of the army and a new system of warfare. After weeks of testing and changes, the guild finally gained a strategic advantage over its enemies. Thanks to the new command system and refined planning, Kuro no Tenshi managed to conquer several key territories.
The most valuable among them were mines containing rare materials used to craft legendary weapons and artifacts. These mines gave them a supply of resources that allowed for massive reinforcement of the army and guild defenses.
Even so, the guild's reign didn't last forever. As time passed, many members stopped playing, with only a handful remaining active. Alliances of human and other-race players sensed an opportunity and launched coordinated attacks on Kuro no Tenshi's weakened holdings.
Despite desperate defense efforts, the guild lost one territory after another. In the end, only a few final strongholds remained, and the once-glorious realm shrank into a fading shadow of its former self.
Yumi blinked and tilted her head in surprise. "Wait… we still control all the original territories?"
That number didn't make sense. During the wars with human players and raids on bosses, they had lost several key strongholds and strategic points. So how was it possible that all territories still belonged to the guild?
Tsuki thought for a moment. "Maybe some territories automatically regenerated? Or the system evaluated them as permanently owned?"
Yumi, however, wasn't so calm. If territories regenerated on their own, and if the system evaluated them as still active, it could mean only one thing—something was wrong.
"This has never happened before…" she muttered, her fingers nervously tapping the menu interface.
"Lost territories never returned automatically. We had to retake them, invest resources, upgrade defenses… But this looks like the guild's territory regenerated on its own, like some kind of indestructible system element."
Tsuki furrowed his brow. "But that would mean our territory doesn't follow standard game rules… If it really does regenerate automatically…"
Yumi pressed her lips together. "Then there's a possibility that the guild system is operating under different laws than it should. And if it behaves differently…"
They both looked at the guild status line. 100% operational.
Yet one question echoed in their minds.
What the hell is going on here?