[‘Mordred’ has defeated the ‘Crimson Dragon God’.]

A single message was announced to the entire world. When talking about who the ‘strongest’ was, many names were thrown into the hat, but none could give a definitive answer. It was different now. The ‘Crimson Dragon God’ stood as the central pillar of this world- an absolute existence- but now its corpse laid dead below the ivory stairs of its palace.

If one were to describe the view in a single word, it would be:

‘Hellish’. Searing landscapes of molten rock and dust. Ashen skies torn asunder by the harsh, solar winds, and towering infernos so devastating it brazed the horizon making it difficult to tell differentiate between land and sky. Such oppressive décor was only appropriate for the inauguration of the one who had ascended the throne to strength and legacy. His prey -God- now a trophy; the magnificent and ferocious beast that even Gods and Heroes of legend feared was now no more than a fancy doormat.

Atop the ivory stairs of the ‘Crimson Dragon God’s Palace’ was a single man who stood triumphantly and silently. A thin, bloodstained silver-cross-sword sheathed in his hands. He clad himself in an elegant white overcoat that fluttered gracefully in the blazing gale like a regal cape. This was the man now recognized by the world as the ‘strongest existence’.

His name was…

“Mordred!” an echoed roar came from below.

The strongest responded with a hint of arrogance; Mordred cast only his sight down as though he were a God peering down onto ants who had gathered to steal food. If life had a peak, this was his moment. There was just one- mages, knights, fletchers and more- many of the world’s next strongest had collected themselves before him to overthrow the crown he had just won. Eyes filled with confidence and jealousy cast up towards him. Had they come to celebrate the birth of a new king? Or merely to be slaughtered? Those were the only two choices.

Wordlessly, Mordred applauded their courage. The harrowing percussive beats pierced through their armour and determination to then sink into their hearts like a poisoned dagger. “Just in time, as always,” he merrily spoke with a hint of malice. Slowly, in a fashion reminiscent to that of the final boss of a video game, he descended the stairs of the Dragon God one by one. He stopped just a few steps from the bottom, so he could still look down upon them, and with the professionalism of a theatre actor at the end of his play he bowed before them. Indeed, it was all just one big ‘play’ to him.

It was all sarcasm, of course. Despite this, the acted ‘etiquette’

had been enough to break down will of these brave and veteran warriors.

Their faces paled and collectively dripped cold sweat down their spines.

What was once confidence morphed into hesitation, assurance into unease. If merely the greetings of the strongest was enough to shred their confidence like paper, then exactly how vast of a chasm was the difference between their strengths?

“C- come on, boys! He’s just one dude!” one of them- probably their leader- yelled in a failed attempt at motivating the others. “There’s no way he could take us all on! We’ve brought an entire expanded raid expedition!” Yet, only whimpering silence was returned.

Much like a lion playing with its prey, the strongest decided to

entertain his guests. A warm, sanguine light glimmered throughout Mordred’s body. He slowly raised his hands and directed all to ‘kneel’ as he applied a bit of his magical powers. In an instant, all the veterans fell to their knees as though gravity had been intensified many folds. Their armour clanged audibly as they hit the floor, their bodies struggled to keep upright to just look at their adversary. Some of them

were already gone as their bodies dispersed into tiny fragments.

“Wuh… kugh… what the hell?!” came a disoriented shout.

“How is he doing that?!” another cried.

“What skill is this?!”

“What are the Paladins doing?! We need Anti-magic support!”

Voices of disarray arose after just a single spell. At that moment, one thing became clear: that they weren’t here for a celebration.

Mordred’s mouth curled from a stoic frown to a malignant grin. He bemusedly watched as the warriors tried to compose themselves, but if they really did get their bearings straight that wouldn’t be too fun.

Instead, like a child tearing off the wings of a butterfly, he adjusted the power at twice the output and re-cast the gravity intensification magic known as ‘Gravity Well’. With that, several more warriors were smashed into tiny fragments and removed from the battle.

“Holy shit!” came a pained moan.

“Seriously?! This guy is broken as hell!”

“I didn’t think the game was this imbalanced!”

“Is this even allowed? Is it even Magic?” asked one warrior. The knight adorned in a marvellous suit of white gold miraculously stood his ground to cast a powerful nullification counter-spell: ‘Null Magic’.

“H- huh?! It’s not work… you mean, this isn’t a magic spell?!”

“Oh, a Paladin,” Mordred was thoroughly and unironically impressed that someone could actually withstand his spell. Even if the target was a class known for its supreme anti-magical capabilities, Mordred was confident he could still suppress them with ease. “This won’t do,” witnessing the opponent’s resistance he shook his head, and with his free hand tossed out a small blue orb of fire. The flame travelled sluggishly and unenthusiastically, yet the moment it made contact with the Paladin’s white armour it combust into a pyre that dwarfed mountains.

“What?! Argh! No, no, no!! How came you use magic on me?!” the knight shouted, losing all semblance of grace and respect. “Null Magic!” he shouted, but the azure inferno did not give out until there had been nothing left of the knight but blackened remains of his scorched armour.

Once nothing more remained of his opponent, Mordred replied, “your ‘Magic Resistance’ was too low.”

Only after a full minute had elapsed and three-forth of the

expedition party wiped out by an ability meant merely to cause a status condition, did a contestant finally and truly break free of the gravity spell- their leader. Though he had been less clad in armour than the previously defiant paladin, the leader was no slouch when it came to strength, proven by his ability to break free. “Dammit!” he knew it was all over. Even though they brought almost forty people, it wasn’t enough to even launch a single attack against the ‘strongest’. ‘I… at least a single hit!’ he thought to himself as he mustered up an attack. The leader’s sword shone through the horrifying backdrop of flames and magma and pushed through his defeated party.

With the furry of a hawk and the anguish of his slaughtered comrades, the leader’s sword swung like lightning through the air to strike down upon the strongest. If he could just manage to deal some minute level of damage, at least then Mordred might acknowledge him. Victory was no option, but remembrance… perhaps.

The heavenly blade sliced through Mordred’s overcoat and left a deep wound upon the centre of his chest. In an acknowledgement of his achievement, the strongest retreated a few steps and fell to his knees while gripping over his wound. As the blood slowly trickled down, he looked at the leader and smiled, “not bad.”

… Or so that’s how it should’ve been. In truth, it had all just been a fantasy, and the reality was that Mordred had caught the blade before it even had a chance to go near his body. With just the slightest twist of his wrist the sword shattered into pieces like a certain ‘flaky’ chocolate bar. “I’d say ‘nice try’, but that wasn’t even close,” not praise as he wanted, but a mockery. Then, to throw further salt on the wound, the leader of the expedition party had been ignored as he was tossed aside like a discarded rag doll, and the strongest’s sights were

firmly against the rest of his allies.

Noticing the air of evil the leader desperately turned and shouted to his party, “you idiots! Don’t just sit there like fools, run! Scatter!”

The warriors only returned looks of confusion. “Leader, what are you…?” before the sentence could be completed, a group of them had suddenly been struck down by something and exploded into a pile of ash and debris.

“What the?!”

When the dust was cleared, what remained at the epicentre of was a flaming rock- a meteorite.

“Shit! ‘Hell Storm’!” realizing the seriousness of their situation

the remaining few members tried to make a run for it. Unfortunately, it was not their lucky day.

“Hey now, don’t run away. You’re all valuable piles of experience!”

Even more meteorites had been conjured up and started to hail down from the skies with the frequency of raindrops. Worse than continued artillery fire, by the time Mordred had wiped the entire field clean of opposition, the surroundings had all been charred to a nice, black crisp. Suddenly, Mordred’s expression dimmed as he let out a disappointed sigh. “All that and I only managed to get a forth of a level.” Turning to the only surviving member, the leader, he told him in

no uncertain terms, “it was entertaining, but next time try bringing a stronger party.”

‘There is no stronger party!’ the leader wanted to return but the

words refused to escape his throat. “You… you’re unbelievable…” he managed to utter. “Just… how…?”

“Play for a really long time and cross your fingers in RNG stat

rolls. That’s all I can tell you.” Mordred shrugged as he conjured a final parting shot for the leader. As a sort of ‘congratulations for surviving to the end’ deal, a very special and unique skill had been activated. It was a secret skill that had been released only a few days ago- most didn’t even know of its existence.

[RNG: Random Number Goddess(jk) Generator :, Random number in stat equipment]

The ashen and fiery clouds above suddenly parted, but what came out from the other side was the serene light of a clear sky, but a shadowy face. Its blank, white eyes were hollow and lifeless. When it opened its mouth, it revealed a row of sharp, shark-like teeth.

“What… what the hell is that?” the leader’s eyes widened as he witnessed the game abruptly shift into the horror genre.

“The ‘World Eater’.” Mordred chanted its name. “A skill that the

developers added with the last patch. To be honest, it’s also my first time using it after obtaining it. Rejoice.”

As though it were leaking from the very heavens themselves, the shadowy face started to drop down as its enormous gapping mouth rushed straight for the leader.

[Expedition Raid: ‘World Heroes’ has been defeated.]

None could dispute the power of the strongest…

‘Hellgana Online’.

It was never a particularly famous game, nor was it properly balanced. With a continuously dwindling player population it often struggled to justify its existence with each passing month. While nothing about the game was outstanding, there was a unique gimmick it used to draw players when it first launched.

A ‘classless’ system, or more aptly, a ‘boundary-less’ class system. Meaning, while it did technically possess the standard profession mechanics, there were no strict barriers of entry between each. Players were free to learn skills and spells from any of the existing ten classes and customize their character builds however they pleased. A ‘Knight’ could easily pick up a wand and start conjuring magic spells from the ‘Magician’ class or use a bow to become a temporary ‘Archer’. Conversely, they could simply opt to focus on one class and branch out only after achieving max level. Though, as with any other game, there were always ways to ‘min-max’ and customize for the most effective and efficient damage.

Each class contained a level ceiling of 200. Upon reaching the level cap players were then given a lengthy and difficult quest to obtain what was known as an ‘Ultimate’ skill.

The various classes were categorized into:

Alchemist

Archer

Magician

Necromancer

Cleric

Knight

Berserker

Puppeteer

Bard

Assassin

That said, if a player managed to obtain all skills and reach the maximum level of 2000, a secret 11th class known as the ‘Demi-God’ would become available. It was a class so incredibly rare that only five players in the game’s history had managed to unlock it. Yet, reaching level 2000 was only the prerequisite. An arduous and extremely cryptic quest had to be cleared, but even if a player somehow managed to beat the quest, an exorbitant amount of in-game currency had to be pledged on top of all that.

To those five players who had reached the pinnacle of the game, they were granted a special title by the player population. They were known as the ‘Polymath’s.

And the strongest of them all: ‘Mordred’.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one day,” a certain young man spoke to himself as he logged off from his online game. He sat quietly contemplating before his desk, staring blankly at the log-in screen and sighed. “The top… is it?” the moment he cleared the hardest dungeon -known to be impossible- there was an unbelievable sense of emptiness and boredom. What was he supposed to do now? He never really had many friends and much preferred playing solo. The few friends that he did possess had all quit the game a long time ago. ‘I guess that’s why they

all left,’ he finally realized what they had seen long before. A wry smile drew across his face as memories of his Polymath peers echoed in his mind. They were all members of one guild: ‘Summit’.

Though he wasn’t quite done with the game, it had now dangerously teetered along that line. Even before clearing the final dungeon, for the last few months all he had done was play around in these unofficial ‘player manhunt’ raids. He turned off his monitor and leaned back onto his computer chair. “Haah… I think I’ll take a shower and go to bed.”

Lazily dragging his scrawny and tired body to the shower, warm water ran down his back as he fell into a deep contemplation. “There’s college tomorrow… I’ll probably skip it,” he told himself. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. “College… my future, huh?” he wondered about it as he stepped out of the shower with still we hair. If it was about what direction he wanted to take his life in, there was one thing he was genuinely interested in. He opened his drawer to take out some clothes, and as he did several business cards fell to the floor from his hasty withdraw. Cards with the names of various professional theatre organizations and talent associations. “I should probably…” but he shook his head.

After he finished getting dressed, he climbed down the stairs to his bleak and empty house. A dimly lit lounge with eerie silence. He made his way over to the answering machine and checked to see if there were any, though there was only one person that came to mind who would send him any message.

Right on point.

“Hello? Is this thing on… Oh, hey! It’s your uncle. You haven’t been answering your phone for a while, so I was getting a bit worried if anything happened. Anyway, I checked past your house earlier today and saw the lights on, which probably means you’re doing fine. Well, I received a call from your school telling me that you’ve been skipping out a lot and that they’re also getting worried. I understand how you are, but I still think it would be a valuable experience for you to attend, else they might resort to holding you back. Other than that, I’m also calling about the Christmas party we’re having soon, and that you should come celebrate with my family. Your cousins said that they wanted to see you as well, so… hope to see you soon, okay? Just… just be careful, all right buddy?”

The young man sighed as he listened. A dry scoff in self-mockery, “sorry uncle, it’s impossible for me after all.”

He felt no enmity towards his uncle and relatives. In fact, he had been extremely grateful that they maintained a cordial relationship with him, however, it was because of that he felt wrong about barging into their happiness. His own parents had passed away from an accident when he was younger, and ever since he had lived on his own not to become a burden to his other relatives. There was no thought to change that lifestyle now.

With just his uncle dropping by a few times a month was nice enough for him.

With a sigh, he checked for more messages but there were none. “Of course not,” he shook his head and retreated to his room to sleep it off. Climbing back up the stairs he noticed a strange light coming from his room.

“Hmm? Did I leave my monitor on?” he wondered to himself but distinctly remembered that he had turned it off. Puzzled by this he rushed back into his room to investigate the matter. The source of the light was indeed his monitor. Strangely, the power button was indicated as ‘off’, but there was a text box at the centre of the screen which read: ‘Welcome to Aria’.

“Welcome to… Aria? What?” he walked forward and turned his monitor back on. “Wait, it was turned off after all, huh?” the message disappeared as he touched the screen. “Is it a virus?” He was no professional programmer, although he did ensure to keep up-to-date with the latest in anti-malware applications and performed regular maintenance. Still, if he couldn’t solve this issue, then he wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly.

A few minutes turned into hours as he checked his computer several times over. “There’s nothing here,” he sighed with frustration. No viruses, no anomalies; his computer showed no indications of slowing down and no files were altered. “Tch,” he clicked his tongue, “just what was it?”

It would’ve actually been better if there had been a virus, at least he would’ve felt better after erasing it. The only thing he found now was a migraine. It aggravated him further that nothing was wrong, but clearly that message was not an illusion. “Dammit!”

He stood up, sweat from anger trickled down the side of his face. Another shower might have been necessary and perhaps a drink to calm him down. Yet as he turned back to do just that the migraine intensified, bringing him down to the floor. On his knees, he held his head in pain and anger as his face turned beet red from all the blood.

“Shit…” it hurt, perhaps more so than actual torture, or at least that’s what it seemed like to him at the moment. It was as though his brain was literally burning up. Unable to endure the pain any further his vision started to fade. Sense eluded him and breathing becoming harder…

Eyelids heavier…

Consciousness waning…